Learning from the Silence

Cool air whispers past as the sky glows a soft baby blue with the coming of dawn. Yet another beautiful morning blessed by the deep chill of autumn. 

I find myself sitting out within nature, wrapped in warm clothing to offset the cold as I drink my strong coffee from a nightmare before Christmas thermos and write in my leather bound journal. Icy fingers gently caress the exposed flesh of my face, cooling the hot skin around my eyes as a chilly breeze dances around me.

I enjoy these moments in nature, my quiet solitude where I can remain still before another day filled with noisy interactions. 

Endless thoughts trickle and weave behind these tired eyes as I struggle to place them in order in my memory warehouse. As the days draw closer to All Hallow's Eve, a deep ache has begun to surface. One followed by heart wrenching memories spent with my father.

This was his favorite time of the year. Something we both shared.

Each day has been weighing heavily upon my mind, causing my chest to tighten with emotions that have a way of beating me down until I'm drowning within their wake.

Despite my recent and rather explosive change of outlook on life and myself, the gaping wound inside my heart begins to tear and reopen. Reminding me that I have not fully recovered and the pain is still as sharp as it was the day he left me behind.

Try as I may, the strength I've found within myself is no match when faced with the broken heart of a little girl who's lost her hero. I've tried to quell her wailing, to comfort the inner child who doesn't understand why Daddy had to go. I thought she had finally calmed, but I'm once again struggling to keep myself steady as the sound of her weeping echoes a tragic melody within the depths of my mind.

I find myself becoming callous to it, acknowledging the pain but indifferent to the feeling. I simply cannot afford to break down. Not when there's still so much to do and little time to do it. I have made myself a machine; a force of nature that will power through every obstacle it faces and come out the other side mostly intact. Only when the world has calmed and the engine is allowed to finally cool down, able to shut off and be still...only then will I allow her mourning to surface. 

Until that time I will embody the essence of stone and get through the challenges placed before me.

No matter how much it stings every time I take a deep breath, I must remain cold. It is an odd sensation, being able to hollow yourself out to continue forward. To push aside all the white noise of emotion for a sharp focus. There's a strange comfort within that living silence. That secret place I go when I'm at the edge of an emotional abyss and I'm losing the war with myself. In that quiet darkness I can see where my path leads and what I must do to get there. 

So I reemerge as something else. A shell of a person whose eyes reveal something terrible peering out. But it's only temporary. A means to an end. It will help me get to where I need to be then sink back into the depths from whence it came.

There is still an echo that will haunt me no matter how still or callous I am. The heart will fight no matter how broken it has become and will remind me of how very precious each moment is. 

Life is a series of chance, such fleeting moments that many take for granted in their appearance only to find themselves with regret years later. I have always cherished those moments, even when I was too young and naive to understand the impact of that truth. To live each day as though it were last. To love fully, forgive the mistakes others, to be in awe of nature and the life coursing through your veins. To realize that in an instant, it can all be taken away. Time is merely an illusion one tells oneself in order to avoid confronting their own fears. You miss out on so much experience and wisdom when you hide behind your own self imposed limitations.

Each new day is a gift. Another chance to live and embrace the life you still have. No matter how painful, there is always beauty. It's your very own perception that blinds you. Life won't wait for you to make up your mind. It's a relentless unforgiving beast that will stop for no one. Half the time it's trying to take you out. That's why it's so important to understand why you've got to get up, dust yourself off and keep going. To truly fail, is to just give up and never try.

I don't know about you, but I enjoy the challenge. Let it try to beat me down. I've come this far, and I don't plan on giving up anytime soon.

'Don't let the bastards get you down.' And I don't intend to.

Dad taught me that. 

-Adieu-

Contemplating while Caffeinated

Is it enough to be able to type these thoughts...releasing them into a world of light and noise? I pause my fingers; the soft tapping of long nails against black keys fading into the silence around me. 

My heart pounds beneath a strong ribcage; thump-thump, thump-thump. Reminding me there are forces at work inside me allowing me to even breathe, let alone think and be able to write those thoughts out for everyone to see.

Life in itself is such an enigma of workings. All the factors that have to come together to create such a thing...a tiny storm of chaos, complex and ever changing... It makes you realize how precious each moment really is.

My reflective mindset is due to the memories of my Father...and that today, is 5 months that Death came, and took him home.

Today I am going to make a change. To show the transfiguration of within.

I am not who I used to be. I say this with an eerie calm and gentle clarity. She is gone. 

I, remain.

Who that is exactly...well, it's still a work in progress.

So much happening and yet I don't want to give too much away. Not yet, not yet.

Things in motion, irrevocable change, a shifting from one stage into another. Metamorphosis and rebirth.

When the wings finally dry, I'll share what's to come. 

-Anon-

'The Red, it filters through'

I woke up with a terrible heaviness against my ribcage, as though something buried deep inside was out-growing the confines of its cage and was slowly starting to push the bars outward into the flesh around it. I took a sharp breath, placed my fist against the center of my chest and embraced the pain.

You don't heal from the wounds of broken yesterdays, you hollow yourself out and make room for the pain. You take it into yourself and let it become apart of you. You make it yours. And that's precisely what I've done.

This will not rule me. I carry the strength of my ancestors within my veins. Strong souls that fought to survive. Souls that carried the heavy burden of a hard life with no one but themselves to depend on. Their strength flows through me and I am not afraid. 

I've faced the darkness inside me and realized...we're not so different. Every facet of who I am, darkness and light. The inner child and the raging beast...we are one.

I have been lost for too long. I made it through the crossroads. I know where I'm going now. 

There is nothing but death itself that can stop me. I am not worthless. I am not weak. I am not broken. To be able to breathe each morning, to be able to face each new day...is a blessing. The tunnel vision had, has been lifted and I can the trees within the forest again.

I embrace this horrific ache inside of me and no longer focus on what created it. Because what it all boils down to, is this simple truth. It is mine and no one elses. It's buried within me and I'm the only one responsible for it. My emotions are my own. Period.

Today I celebrate being able to type these thoughts, these revelations. I am grateful for the life I've been given. No matter how hard it's been or what horrors and trials I still have to face... I know now, that I am my own obstacle. The walls around my soul have been broken and have become nothing more than shadows and dust. There is a strange kind of calm pooling around my clouded thoughts. An odd kind of knowing; a cold, calculated instinct that's slithering hidden truths through the blood that flows through these veins.

There is so much more to me than I ever realized. The strength of my Father hides behind my eyes. Remembering his words of wisdom. My anchor, my internal lighthouse to guide me back from the depths of my own personal hell. He would tell me to get angry, focus and keep going. That I was the Daughter of a Sailor, and god help the poor sonuvabitch that pissed me off.

-chuckles softly- As much as the pain of his loss still stings, I find myself finding comfort in the memory of him that still lives in my heart. He's still with me. A piece of him I can reach out to and find strength in when I'm at odds with the world and everything in it. All I have to do is calm myself and simply listen...and he's there.

This downward spiral has ended. It's a fresh start, and how convenient that it would all come together on October 1st. 

I may not be completely healed, but I can keep moving forward with fresh wounds and tattered scars. They don't haunt me, they simply remind me that I'm very much alive. A beautiful symphony of moments etched into the flesh, both inwardly and outwardly. My soul an open canvas of the story I continue to paint as my thoughts fill the chapters of a book that still has so much left to be written.

Chrysalis removed, the flames having purified and burned away what I used to be. I take these few new steps toward a future yet unknown, but of my own making.

I've been underestimated, beaten down, lied to, used, treated like I was nothing more than a toy, treated like I was inferior. That my thoughts and emotions weren't valid, that I was stupid and worthless and irresponsible. I was too ugly, too fat, too scarred, too emotional. That I couldn't do anything right. That I was a mistake and should've never been born.

Guess what? 

I'm still here.

I bring light and warmth to everyone I meet. I am genuine in my motives and feelings for others. I am more forgiving than I should be. We all hurt, we are all damaged and I sure as hell won't be there to cast the first stone. No one is perfect. I do forgive others for their mistakes, no matter the severity. But I Never Forget. 

I've learned so much...and have found strength in dying a little inside. We all change, we all move forward. We all become so much more then we ever thought we could be.

I am not the person I used to be and honestly, she wouldn't have been able to hack it. So I've removed the lingering weakness and replaced her.

I am Onyx Wildcat, an Angel in Chaos and I refuse to bow.

In fact, this life will bow to me or I'll break it.

"No Power in the 'Verse can stop me now."

-Wildcat-

Crimson Dreamscapes

Dreams can be an escape from the twisted pathways of an unwanted reality. Sometimes, they take you to places you'd never dare travel on your own. Sometimes they force you to face aspects of yourself you never wanted to see.

They force you to face your inner demons...

They make you truly See what's hidden so deep beneath the surface. All the chaos and anger you bury. All the hatred and damage buried beneath the rubble of a broken spirit. You're made to see the fragmented pieces you thought had faded away. You're forced to see who you really are...

Some call those dreams Nightmares... I call them self awareness. Seeing the Monster for what it really is... Just a twisted form of me.

Last night, when I finally fell into unconsciousness I found myself pulled into yet another familiar place. It was night and I was in a house I keep dreaming about. It's not here in california. It honestly looks like Oregon. It's the same area, the same streets and sidewalks. The same clear skies above a thick canopy of trees. This place has been showing up in every dream I've had since Dad died. I believe it's where I'm going... And every time I dream of it, the image is clearer and it feels more and more like home. It's where I belong.

When I was first walking through the house, I found a door to a room I hadn't entered before. I opened it and peered inside and saw the right side profile of a man, made of shadows... He went from sitting to standing. I closed the door and it took a moment for my brain to realize Who that shadow was. I opened the door and when I looked inside to seek him out...he was gone.

It was Dad.

Once again, it was a brief moment, he was in the other room, but this time I caught a glimpse of his outline and shadow...but I missed him.

-sighs-

The next part of the dream is just as odd. A few friends were in the house with me and I remember looking out toward a window that faced the backyard (no fence) that peered out into the forest. A Huge Grizzly Bear approached the window frame (there was only a screen seperating us) and it's shoulders were wider than the window, so it couldn't get through. The thing is, the window was almost six feet wide. It was Massive. Someone who was standing off to the side exclaimed, "Hey Erin, looks like someone wants to talk to you." And they didn't seem all that afraid of this mammoth grizzly approaching the window.

At first, neither was I. Until it reared its lips back and started roaring at me. It was Pissed...and I knew it was because of me. It was a literal manifestation of all the rage building inside of me. 

I knew it wasn't going to hurt me, but it was frightening. It's amber hazel eyes seemed to shimmer brilliant golds and fiery reds as it snarled and growled for me to face it. The scariest part... Those were my eyes, in the face of this incredibly dangerous animal. She was fucking livid.

The dream shifted and I was with four guy friends that I knew were all very protective of me. One in particular was the sweetest on me, but I can't remember his face. I just know he had light hair and pale eyes; possibly blue/green and had a deep voice. He was an old friend, someone I knew I could trust and be safe with. The reason the four guys were around me is because they were protecting me from something that was out in the woods...something that was hunting me. And the bear was the last thing they were worried about. It was something unnatural. 

While we were all camped out in this house, everything was very dark, possibly close to midnight and the power was coming from a generator on the side of the house. It was like we were in a cabin in the middle of very thick woods.

I was wrapped in a blanket and sitting out back, looking up into the starlit heavens as the other three patrolled the house. The fourth was holding me. I felt loved.

I can't remember exactly what happened, but the next thing I know there was a wound on the lower half of my left leg. I didn't freak out, if anything I expected it. One of the other three was there, wondering what happened because I was literally Covered in blood. And it wouldn't stop. I told them it wasn't a big deal, I just had to squeeze the poison out. And even though I was running the garden hose over it, I couldn't get the blood off. All I could see was red, all over me, making my pale skin appear ghostly. They were terrified that I'd lose too much blood, but I told them this was normal. That I was stronger than I looked... I wasn't afraid. Even though...it's the most blood I've seen in a dream in a very long time.

I honestly looked like Carrie's stunt double.

It was just... Weird. 

I also remember in another fleeting part of the dream, three Lynx cubs playing around me. And the smallest kept rubbing against my legs. The darkest markings with the lightest amber hazel eyes and black ears...a small female.

While this was happening, there was a Huge wolf nearby just watching us. Specifically, his electric blue gaze were trained on my face. And it was as though he was made of fog and shadows, but I remember those eyes... He was looking right through me. As if waiting...

No idea what any of it means... Well, no, I actually do...most of it anyway.

-smirks- The blood generally means something big is about to happen and happen fast. Heh...we'll see.

Toodles.

-Anon-

Venting Thoughts

There are whispers within these walls... Confused and tattered; bloodied things with no purpose. Hollowed and broken from years of pain and neglect. I've tried so very hard to stay stable. To not become something I've never known before. I don't know what's happening to me. Anger, courses through me like a tyrant hellbent on destroying the heavens and all that lie beneath.

I'm at war with myself. I don't recognize the person in the mirror. The lines are too harsh, the eyes are too piercing; scrutinizing everything for a weakness. 

Damaged. That term is so very accurate in describing my spirit. I can't put myself together the same as before. Too much of myself has been lost or washed away from the waves of chaos that's drowning my existence.

Do I really have to become a monster in order to save what's left of me?

I don't like these thoughts, I especially don't like the way I'm feeling. It's either a terrible stillness or overwhelming rage. I can't pin it down, fight it back or make peace with it. It simply, Is and there really isn't anything I can do to make it go away. Because you can't kill what keeps you alive. I'm barely functioning as it is and this seems to be the thing that's helping me continue forward. I suppose it's normal? Is it? I really don't anymore.

Too many thoughts and not enough words to speak them. 

As gifted as I may seem with poetry and prose, I'm terrible at expressing what's really going on in my head and how I'm feeling. I'm wired differently. Sometimes, the only way I can truly get my feelings understood, is in person and not the way you'd think. More often than not, it's written all over me. My face, my body language. My voice. My eyes especially... They scream out when I have no voice left to call for help.

Singing especially gets the emotions felt. And yea... I've got some talent for hitting all the right notes. It's sad really... I used to sing so much, it helped...god did it help. But over the years, being forced into silence due to not having any privacy or place I could sing without being heard... I stopped and began to hate my own ability.

I miss singing. I miss being able to push the poison out through song. It was so freeing. As was being on stage. Being able to vent repressed emotions through a completely different person (the character I was portraying) it was incredibly therapeutic. But I've lost that too... Or misplaced it.

Shit, I feel misplaced. Left to my own devices I've been on a downward spiral. I'm trying so hard to be positive and believe in a better day...it's just, so fucking hard. 

I'm being honest here, because I know it helps and I have incredibly wonderful souls that I am beyond blessed to call friend. I know you're all worried about me, or at least curious as to my highs and lows and dare I say, 'emo behavior' as of late. -chuckles at herself-...gods kill me I just referred to myself 'emo'... Sweet Thor please strike me down -shakes her head in utter shame-

I'm a mess. Mentally, emotionally...physically. The hardest lesson in all of this...what makes it soo much harder, is that when things were rough, I could always talk to Dad. He knew me better than anyone. He knew when I didn't have a voice to speak what was going on inside of me, he knew how to speak for me, to give the right words to say, to give my thoughts a voice. He understood me to where I didn't have to talk in circles because of my horrific fucking anxiety. He knew me... And I didn't feel so alone. I didn't feel crazy because someone understood when I couldn't speak. Because he could feel it and I didn't have to say it...

-completely loses it-

This hurts so much... I fucking hate these tears; spilling useless buckets of salt over that which I cannot change. I miss him so much... Dammit I hate this.

It so much harder without him...without his guidance, without his warmth. It's so fucking cold now...it almost feels like life has no meaning anymore. 

This pain is worse than I can convey. It's every day. Every moment. I try...god dammit I try so hard to buck up and soldier through everything... But he was the one stable thing in my entire life... And I feel fucking shattered because he's gone and I'm left with these fucking internal wounds.  

I'm so deeply scarred now... 

Wishing he was still here. Wishing I didn't feel uneven and hollow. Wishing I didn't feel at all.

-stops to calm down and violently wipes at her face-

It's worse because in times like these, when my thoughts were so scattered and skewed and I couldn't make heads or tails of a situation... He was the calm voice that brought me back from the brink. And that's gone now. So I'm not handling myself very well... And I am sorry to anyone and everyone who may be affected by it. It's not on purpose...

I just don't know who I am anymore...

...I feel like I'm becoming a monster...

-Onyx-

Cruelty in Dreamscapes

So much to be learned from experience. Great lessons taught, possibly in the harshest of ways so that the soul will open its eyes to the painful truth that nothing is ever what it seems. The innocence one tries so desperately to hold on to, to shelter from the terrible reality of this existence, to protect it from the agony of deceit. From everything that's out to destroy it. 

The innocence I've fought so hard to keep safe has been wounded and lies huddled in the corner, weeping. Helpless to watch as it mourns the loss of itself. Becoming numb at the sheer cruelty from heartless souls that only take until there's nothing left but a hollow shell.

But something has been summoned by the warm tears pooling down the innocent's face. A terrible energy brought forth like a waiting leviathan awakened after a long hibernation. A silent rage courses through its veins at the sight of the inner child curled up in pain. 

An unacceptable vision that will not go unavenged.

The terror from within curls its massive form around the innocent, allowing that broken purity to bury itself against its protective warmth. Guarding what's left of that precious light as predatory eyes peer into the distance...finding the very thing that's caused such a travesty. Glowing orbs narrow on the target, causing its lips to curl up and away from rows of dagger like teeth in a silent snarl. 

Such an act will not go unpunished. The beast will remain still, allowing the wounded innocent to heal and find some kind of peace again. As time passes, it will lie in wait...giving it time to bring a plan into focus; processing it within the catacombs of a methodical mind.

It has been sleeping for too long. Remaining hidden in the hopes that it would never have to rise... That the innocent would remain unharmed. But the fates have their own agenda...harsh lessons beaten into the gentle soul of an innocent that has only had the purest of intentions. 

This will not be allowed to simply fade into the winds as though it never happened. There are consequences. A reaction to every action. Whatever one sends out into the universe, they will get back three fold.

A shimmer of cold blue/fire glares defiantly within the darkness. 

A silent promise of what's to come...

...nothing will ever be the same.

-Fades to Black-

Insert Catchy Update Title

With a heavy heart, I force myself to type these words. With everything in my life, a mundane and productive thing. The same day in and day out. Becoming apart of the collective of blue collared society. Making a means as I focus on the future...

Alas, I am silvered tongue in that statement. For in truth, I don't see a future anymore. All I see is the thick fog swirling around me. Trapped in moments of yesterday, pockets of heart breaking memories that tear me apart piece, by dying piece. The case of my transition through this time of mourning has been silent. I haven't dealt with the emotions that have been forced through my veins.

In all this time, the realization of my world and everything in it being flipped upside down, has crippled me substantially. I've put on the brave face, forced myself to believe in it as I told myself like a Mantra that I Had to Keep Going. I didn't have time to stop and let myself cry. I didn't have the luxury to bury myself in the waves of grief that threatened to wash over me. I have bills to pay, feline children to take care of and my ghostly steed to keep running. All the cards were set. Placed precariously close to the edge of an unknown abyss.

A terrible gush of wind has risen and has thrown my fragile little world into darkness. Money is fleeting, no matter how hard I work, I barely make ends meet. But I saw it in a positive light. I don't live far from work, so it's not much strain on Ellie. It won't burn much gas.

Unbenounced to me, Ellie was sick. August 25th after leaving work and pulling right into the walgreens parking lot, her front right wheel made a horrific THUNK and when I parked, I realized it had gone sideways. I managed to get her home, parked, snapped a picture and immediately informed my brother who is currently in florida.

After Grandpa Mike (Glenn's father in law) looked her over, we've learned that the people Dad had paid to make sure this didn't happen, had in fact, done Nothing and ripped him off. It wasn't our normal mechanic either. It was a different shop that supposedly specialized in that kind of work. They lied. And all this time...especially driving on the freeway...I could've been killed.

But Ellie somehow kept going and only did this when I was less than a 2 minute drive from the house.

I wasn't too upset. Knowing that it's only a 1.3 mile trek to work, about 30 minutes on foot. She will be fixed, I just need to come up with the money to pay for parts and a tow to my brother's shop in desert hot springs. She will need a new alignment afterward, and two new tires. I know I won't have a car for awhile, possibly not until late October. I only get paid so much every two weeks and I spend most of it on car insurance and my phone bill. 

So I kept a level head and began walking to and from work. Thanks to working Faire, the walk is a breeze. Walking in high temperatures and direct sunlight has been slightly...uncomfortable, but I've managed to just get through it. 

On the bright side, I've shrank even more since I started walking and I'm stronger. I think I've lost nearly an inch all over. So there's the positive in that.

You also may have noticed the change in hair color. I didn't want to originally, but when I started working for PetCo, I was informed that I was allowed only natural colors. I had been debating on a darker color...so I went ahead and changed it. Didn't mean for it to come out nearly black, but it seems to fit me very well, in many aspects.

Also, I had a bit of a breakdown last night when I was lying in bed. So much nervous energy was tearing through me and the next thing I knew, I was growling and clawing my sheets as I struggled to catch my breath. It was maybe six minutes total...but when the sobs finally subsided, I found myself completely exhausted and could only curl up against my pillows as my eyes remained shut. I couldn't remain angry and depressed. I had literally exhausted myself into silence.

I actually slept. Hard. I didn't want to get up...but once 10am rolled around I knew I had to get coffee in me. It is my day off after all. 

-sighs softly and takes a drink of her coffee-

I can see how mechanical and detached I sound. Honestly, I haven't really been myself. And the moments, though brief, when I have been... I felt weakened from emotion and shut off again. The only way I'm going to get through all of this internal head trauma is to simply allow it to run its course. If I feel the need to share, as I'm doing now, so be it.

At least there's that part of me that still remains.

At this very moment, I'm listening to 'Say Something, I'm Giving Up On You'. When this song first came out, I couldn't bear it. It reminded me of how badly I kept fighting to get Dad to listen to me. How fucking hard I fought to save him... Only to learn that no amount of bravado was going to stop Death from taking him to the other plane. 

Now as I hear the lyrics, the song playing on repeat through the speakers... It has a different meaning. I want so desperately to know he's still, somehow, in existence. 

...Tears are flowing down my face as I type these words...

I question the reason why I'm even here. I wonder why I have this horrible pain inside and when will it ever stop. I fight the desperate need to be held, the only true thing that's healed me so many times before when my words won't work I just need to Feel...safe.

I wonder what's becoming of me as I push my beautiful feline boys away when they try to comfort me...

-pauses as another wave of spine-curling grief rips through her and has to calm down enough to keep typing with trembling fingers-

I struggle with being positive these days. It seems that the moments I find myself happy, I'm suddenly slammed backwards. 

Honestly, I used to think there was only so much I could take before I was sent over the edge. I think I've realized a terrible truth about me.

I have no limit. I just keep taking it. I feel like an indestructible machine created to power through each level of hell without stopping. 

No matter how many horrors it encounters, it's designed to go the designated course and return more or less intact. Though there is no visible damage, something within its mechanics has been changed. It's been altered in some way. It's not obvious at first...not until it's running for a short while and you can almost Feel the difference in the way its engine growls. A little harsher, a little deeper. 

As though something came back with it...

I feel altered and deeply scarred. That's how this works. The whole loss and grieving thing. I may come off callous, but it's really not that. I've been overwhelmed with emotion and now I'm numb from it.

Though I'm trying to suss this out, trying to keep a gentle spirit about things... There's something terribly awful living inside me. Hidden within the gaping void that was left by Dad's death. Even though I knew it was coming, I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to not have him in my life. I'm so broken and lost without him. 

-growls and chokes back the sob as tears start blurring her vision as they dash down her heated flesh-

It's hard to explain why this is so devastating to someone who doesn't know. We had a Twin connection. He wasn't just my hero, he was my best friend and I fucking hate myself for crying like this as I'm trying to type. Makes seeing the keyboard incredibly hard through a blur of unwanted emotion.

-pauses to gather her bearings-

And on that note, I need to use the bathroom and then wash my face. Know that I'm not purposefully being dark and broody. I'm trying to find my way back. I love you and thank you all for your patience and understanding.

-Anon-

Humility within Silence

Disjointed, I've hidden myself away when the world itself has become too bright and too loud. Nothing more than blinding white noise when all I've wanted is peace. Just a moment to collect the broken fragments of myself...to pause and find a means to begin healing the festering wounds left in the wake of loss.

It's a struggle even now as my fingers tremble along these black keys, forcing myself to type these thoughts out for all to see. A way to explain, for you to understand what's happening to me. I'm trying to make sense of everything. Trying to remain positive when I feel as though I've been swallowed by a ravenous darkness from which there is no escape.

-sighs and takes a drink of her second cup of coffee-

It's my second day off and tomorrow I have an early start. What's usually a short day (11am-5pm) will be thrown off by a 7am Meeting I have to attend, along with the rest of the store. At least I'll be able to get my check early and cash it before I have to go back in. So that's definitely a plus. It probably won't be much, but it's something. Enough to pay bills, buy two essential things for my furbabies and put gas in my Ellie. 

As you may have noticed, I haven't been on Facedesk as much as I used to, if at all. I've just...I can't really explain it, but I've become more or less withdrawn. Well, more than before. I go to work, come home and repeat. That's all I do. At least it's productive. 

There's been an odd thought process, a type of self reflection I guess you could say. I'm at a loss as to who I am anymore. I'm an odd mix of overwhelmed by tragedy and cold emptiness. Somewhere within the chaos I'm standing so very still, waiting in the wings. It's quiet there...safe. Lonely, but somehow comforting.

My energy level has plummeted. It's not so much dragging, but it's more like a low thrum of energy. You have to close your eyes and focus and you'll hear it. It exists, just barely. 

I've wanted to write, wanted to let myself be open...but there was always a wordless voice in the back of my head saying, 'What's the point?' and I'd back away and leave my computer off. I usually write in my leather bound journal. At least it's something. I didn't intentionally isolate myself from everyone. It just happened. I've always debated with myself, wondering how it is that I've reached this point. I instinctively know the answer (as I'm sure you all do as well). I just don't feel very enthusiastic anymore. I try to, as though the lingering echoes of who I am makes me appear as though I'm still here; bright and shiny. But it's a lie. A mask.

I suppose it's merely a stage of grief... We all change, you know? 

I don't know if any of this is even making sense or if it's worth posting. I'm here. Just quiet. I think there's a part of me that believes I need to be alone and detached from everyone. That I need to earn my way back. Since I've failed so much...I need to redeem myself. Which means keeping everyone at a distance. I'm already living in the middle of nowhere, so far from everyone I care about. It's too much time and money to come out and see me and there's no way I can go and see anyone because Ellie's not feeling well, I don't have the money for it, it's been far too warm and my two days off are Wednesday and Thursday. So it's pointless to think about going anywhere or seeing anyone. Instead of being sad and depressed about it, I've pulled away and began living in my head. It's safer here...temporary at best.

Today I'm rather torn... Had a dream of Dad, it was brief but it jolted me awake; choking on the sob trapped in the back of my throat. Not something I needed...and to add insult to injury, when I finally woke up today and checked my phone for the time, I noticed I not only had a missed call, but a message as well. So I listened...and it was Mission Health Care (the nurses who had been here to help Dad) and they wanted to know how Dad was doing...

My chest tightened and I felt my intestines twist into painful knots.

So if I don't seem like myself, well...you're not wrong. I'm not myself. Haven't been for awhile (hence my silence). Maybe this is who I'm supposed to be. Maybe not.

Gotta love internal transition.

-Anon-

-Bad Company, I Can't Deny-

AC/DC's "Walk All Over You" pours through the speakers as darkness swirls all around me, the window covered by two different throw blankets; both of large cats. I have a faint smile ghosting my lips as the small fan across the room, directly behind me on the right, circulates the cool air pooling in from the window.

After having a strange night, the news I received this morning was a blessing. I start my training as a Pet Groomer, Monday July 21st at 10am. I'm honestly relieved and excited at the same time. I love animals, enjoy going to that particular store and so it's only natural that I would be pleasantly surprised to learn that I'll be working there.

-smiles and takes a drink of her strong coffee-

Now, as I mentioned, I had a few moments of strangeness last night. You see, for the past few weeks I've been finding it very difficult to sleep through the night. In fact, I've been waking up every night around 3am. Probably due to stress.

Last night was slightly different. The dreams I experienced before I drifted back to consciousness stuck with me and made me feel off.

I was in a strange house, built on a slight incline, surrounded in trees that towered into the heavens. It was night time, and felt as though I was in Oregon already. But it wasn't too cold or too warm, it felt like fall. The air was cool and crisp and smelt of the forest. I was inside, going through the front room, opening the windows so the fresh air could pour in. But there was one room on the left hand side of the house I didn't want to go into. Ignoring the nagging in the back of my head, I traveled to the laundry room located straight back opposite of the living room, through the kitchen and toward the right. I was going through the motions of throwing in a load of laundry when the thought hit me again... The room. The reason I stayed away from it, was because I knew my Dad was in there. I had a vivid image in my head of him wrapped up in his dark blue sheets asleep. But I knew he wasn't asleep. 

I went out onto the front porch and someone was with me. Not sure who, but I remember telling them that I couldn't go in there... I didn't want to see him like that. Because he'd passed away and had been left in there for a few days. I knew that I was going to need professionals to come and collect him.

The dream shifted and I was still in Oregon, it was still night time, but I wasn't in that house anymore. I was actually in a small mom'n'pop type store with two other friends; one male, one female.

I remember telling them we had a few tests to go through (no idea how I knew that, but it was a thought from a deep male voice... Weird I know) and the young woman was the first one to go through them. I remember she was 5'8-5'9, lanky but strong, broad shoulders in a dark blue/grey tank top and black pj pants. She had dark brown, straight hair just below her shoulders and a feminine face with a slightly husky voice.

She jumped when dozens of jumping spiders started to appear from the darkened corners of the store. I told her to not be afraid, they weren't going to hurt her. I remember how calm I was, as if I'd gone through this myself. The Spiders were actually quite beautiful. All ranged in size; from as big as a dime to the size of my palm. They were jet black, smooth with no hair but their eyes... The most beautiful shade of dark metallic blue that shimmered an electric sea blue green in the light. They didn't move like spiders, more like a squirrel. Less arachnid, more mammal. They didn't wall climb, they simply crawled up onto shelves to get a better viewpoint of us. At one point, I was walking between two shelves and I felt them jump down onto my back. I wasn't scared, I knew they weren't going to hurt me. The odd part was feeling an itch sweep the length of my back. "Crap, they bit me!" I exclaimed when the young woman, somewhere off to the side corrected me. 

"No, they're not biting you. It's him, he's..."

And I woke up.

Groggy and feeling out of sorts, I gathered myself from my bed and checked the time. 2:44am. With a low grumble I left my room and headed to the bathroom. My brain was still trying to suss out the dreams I had just had when I finished up, left the bathroom and walked through the kitchen instead of the hallway closest to the front of the house. I think I was contemplating getting some water but realized I'd have to get my cup from my bedroom and decided to just go outside and clear my head. As I left the kitchen and started passing the stairs leading to the 2nd level, I heard the distinct sound of footsteps behind me. Separate footsteps. I was halfway between the staircase and the front door when I literally just stopped. I focused on any betrayal of sound and found nothing. Brow furrowed, I turned and made a slow sweep of the perimeter, wondering if perhaps one of the munchkins had gotten up. I even looked up into the top level and noticed the doors to my Niece and Nephew's room were closed. I was the only one up and walking around.

The crease deepened between my brows while I tried to recreate the sound I had heard with my feet against the wooden floor. An odd shiver traveled the length of my spine when I realized that it hadn't been me who had made that sound. Shaking my head, I proceeded out onto the front porch, sat down and had a cigarette. As I did, I even typed this all down so I wouldn't forget into the notes feature on my phone. When I finished, I went back inside, into my room and was in bed by 2:58am.

Like I said, weird.

I'm not all that worried about what I experienced last night. Could've just been some weird echo of my quiet footfalls against the wooden floor. But for it to sound the way it did, I would have had to have been in the Kitchen when I heard it in the Other Room.

-shrugs and takes a drink of her coffee-

Not going to think about it. 

In other news of doom, I've been writing everyday. Just a simple story based on the 'what if' thinking of me literally running into the winchesters due to a sea fog that rolled into the desert, which is actually an interdimensional thing and it drops me into their existence. And that anything that goes through that rift will be affected by the energy there. Blah blah blah, you get the idea. I actually like where it's going and it's just nice to be able to write again. Takes my mind off of thoughts that only cause my heart to ache.

And on that note, I'm going to finish this here blog of doom, drink my coffee and continue to wake up. It's a bit harder today because it's finally cool outside with a bit of humidity. Reminds me of my home by the sea...

Anyway... Later days.

-Adieu

Written in the walls

(Written earlier in the day on my phone, then transferred onto my blog a few hours later)

Been doin' alright... Takin' it day to day, going from heart broken to empty to an eerie calm... Today has definitely been an odd one. 

I felt great when I woke up, except when I remembered the dream of me sobbing over my little girl who I never knew I had and apologizing to her for not being there when she needed me. This girl who was 15 years old with strawberry red/brown hair and light hazel eyes (a lighter honey color with more green). Thing is, I know this was my daughter... This isn't the first time I've dreamt of her. The first time I was 17 and she was two years old. She looked exactly like me except her skin was slightly paler, and her hair was that lighter strawberry brown with those striking light honey hazel green eyes. Her hair was thick and wavy/curly to the middle of her back and she had bangs/fringe cut perfectly above her brows. Wait... I just realized something. I just did the math... If I had a 15 year old, she would have been two when I was 17... Ya, that just topped my weird-shit-o-meter.

Anyway...

Today I finally got around to washing my baby, who I haven't given a bath since before October of last year. She looks gorgeous but it's obvious Eleanore needs a new paint job. I was suddenly disappointed with myself that I hadn't been taking care of her like I should have. I could see that she's in desperate need of a good polish and I should've been on top of that. 

As I was beating myself up for not taking care of my baby, all I could think of was my Dad... I could almost hear his voice calmly telling me that yes she needs a new paint job but for right now, all she needs is a good polish and wax to bring the shine back. 

So I tried to push it out of my head and decided to relax, lay back on my bed and watch Jaws The Revenge. 

I'm mostly paying attention when the boys curl up to my left, near my feet and pass out on my Supernatural bag. Their peace was contagious and I found myself unable to keep my eyes open...but as I began to sink into that inky black, I was suddenly struck with that dream of my daughter and it was like a knife embedding itself in my heart. I jolted awake, sat up and glanced over to my left. There, among the pile of disheveled stuffed animals was my small gray horse I had won in one of those machines you find at a diner. I don't know what possessed me to pick it up and cradle it against my chest (possibly a subconscious need for physical reassurance) but as soon as I held it protectively in my arms, my mouth pressed gently against its soft mane...I was overcome with grief and started quietly sobbing... It was like a levee shattered and I was suddenly flooded with sorrow. I clutched that tiny horse for dear life and found myself quietly calling out for my father... Begging him to come home.

-wipes the wayward tears that escaped her eyes-

I can't sense him. 

The random thoughts I have of him are nothing more than modified memories. His presence is not here... Even after I put his ashes in the passenger seat and drove him home almost a week ago. Such a small box...yet somehow so very heavy... I had the fleeting thought of putting the lap belt on it because it was Dad; he was always adamant about wearing a seatbelt...

The box now sits at the end of my bed. It's a box within a box and I haven't had the heart to open it. 

I know how all over the place this must seem, my thoughts are as lost and chaotic as my emotions; scattered marbles rolling off into oblivion.

It's been a struggle to get myself to update anything on facedesk. I've been posting random, impersonal stuff so that I hadn't completely isolated myself. I wanted to write, wanted to alleviate some of this pressure building up inside my head. But I was held back... Suffering from panic attacks so severe I would start stuttering if I tried to speak. I've never experienced panic like this before, my anxiety having become a very real monster that attacks me any time it damn well pleases.

I've come to realize I'm struggling with myself to keep functioning. I'm trying to deal with losing my father. It's so incredibly hard... Because we were so very close. Not just because he was my best friend and my father, we had this very strong connection that used to trip my dad out all the time. I would say what he was thinking or vice versa. We didn't even have to be in the same room or even the same city. We used to laugh about it all the time... It's the same link twins have... Which is why this has been so devastating for me. 

I feel severed.

I thought I was getting through it just fine. I hate that in cleaning my Ellie, I triggered the waterworks and even now as I type this calmly in my phone, tears are streaming from my eyes, sliding silently down my face and pooling along the crease created by my lips being held shut.

It's hard to reach out and talk about how I'm feeling when I can't get my thoughts straight. It's hard to focus and be my old positive self when I feel fragmented. 

I hate what this tragedy has made of me. 

I don't want to be needy... I don't want to admit that it's become apparent I need physical reassurance. To feel safe again, held protectively in strong arms.

This is not something I'd openly admit. One, I refuse to appear weak. You can all tell me that needing to be touched isn't a sign of weakness... That needing to be held is perfectly natural. Here's the deal; I've been this way since I was 3 years old. I have an incredibly difficult time allowing anyone to see me cry or get upset. I'm even more guarded from appearing needy...especially when it's the need to be held by a male. That's when I'm at my most vulnerable and it's one of the very rare instances I allow someone else to be on guard.

It also makes it harder for me because I have severe trust issues with men. I've been burned too many times. Especially when I was at my lowest; when I really needed someone and finally found the courage to reach out... Only to find that I was reaching toward nothing more than dead space.

Intoxicated by honey coated lies and empty promises. Learning the hard truth that a genuine face generally comes attached to cowards.

I was Nothing more than a convenience to be left behind when I was no longer useful or entertaining. 

Sounds harsh, but incredibly accurate.

So you can imagine that even talking about this stirs up a hornet's nest of resentment. Especially since I'm basically admitting that I unknowingly let myself be used for someone's amusement.

Man have I gone off on a tangent in the hopes, that somehow, there'd be a better understanding of how my brain works. I'm sure that given the circumstances, anyone's thoughts would be fireflies in the wind. I just hate feeling like every facet of my being has been shredded and I'm left to weave myself back together.

-sighs and takes a drink from a freshly brewed cup of strong coffee-

Even the little things; waking up, making coffee, filling my nightmare before Christmas thermos with said coffee and heading outside to have my morning cigarette... All goes back to the memories of Dad. That was our routine. Where we'd sit and wake up and just talk about our dreams or what The View (who we called The Broads) was about that day. Randomly catching an episode of Maury and discussing the lack of intelligence in almost all of the guests on that show.

How every April 21st we would sit down and watch John Carpenter's 'The Fog' together...

How every night, we would say Locu Noć (Lock-oh-no-tch) which in Croatian means 'Good night'. That was something my mom taught him when I was a baby.

It was the very last thing he said to me the day before he died... 

-pauses to swallow the hard lump of emotion with a hefty drink of her coffee-

This is the most I've shared in awhile. It's not all 'lollipops and candy canes' but it's honest and it's only a glimpse of the roaring waves crashing through my mind.

With everything going on around me and trying desperately not to drown, I've made up my mind as to where I'll be headed before the end of the year.

I'm set on moving to Oregon. It's something I've wanted since I was 18 years old. At one point, even my Dad wanted to move there...and have a small house with two black labs.

I want to honor that. So I'm going to find a way back to a place that has always felt like home. Currently I have my little sister (we adopted each other as family) Ashley and her pup Dacey set on moving to Salem with me. She's been wanting to move there too, so it works out.

It's all I've been thinking about. The lease here in Beaumont will be up in November, so hopefully before then, Ashley, her Dacey, Pez, Gir and Myself will already be in Salem in our new place. And I can't wait to be able to have a garage for Ellie. It's what Dad always wanted for her and my beautiful girl deserves it.

I just want to feel at peace again. I want to have my own space where the boys can scamper around (and they'll be fine with Dacey, she's a lithe little dachshund (weenie dog) who loves cats) and I can finally have Betta fish in their own separate aquariums, all named after my favorite fictional characters. 

Even though I'll be sharing space with Ashley, we actually mesh well. Both natural gypsies finally finding a place to call home.

That's all I've ever wanted. I didn't want to leave my home by the sea. Knowing that the only Real home I've ever known was going to be gone... Broke something precious inside. My home is Gone. I have nothing left to go back to... Visiting is one thing, the great blue mother will always be there... But everything that was stable, the lighthouse of my childhood... Is now nothing more than a memory like the ashes of my father held within that box at the end of my bed. The warmth is gone and there is nothing left for me here.

Yes, many of my family (those friends who I am beyond grateful for) are here and are the only reason I would come back to visit. But I can't stay. I've planned to leave California for over 12 years but there was always someone keeping me here. Now that someone is gone. That part of my life that I hold so dear, is over.

I'm no longer trapped at a crossroads. The path before me glows with life and is beckoning me north. Where the trees stand like living sentinels, rising from the earth toward a new beginning. Calling out to me, their branches outstretched, begging me to come home.

I need to start over. I need to find myself and I can't do it if I'm suffocating in the past. It's no longer frightening but exciting to think about. No fits of panic, no anxiety to sweep through me and make me stone. It's not a hopeful notion that I'll be in Oregon. It's an instinctive knowing that I belong there. 

Stranger still is that a few years ago, perhaps two now, I wrote about this happening. It's not verbatim, but eerily similar. 

I also want to make clear that this isn't me running away. For the very first time, I'm excited about the future.

And on that note, I've written far more than I thought I would. -chuckles softly- and as much as I enjoy sitting outside, the flies are starting to get on my nerves and my phone is down to 53%. 

-Adieu