वे अल हवे अन Angel

I believe we all have an angel. Ill share a story now about a time that Im certain an Angel was looking out for me.
I was about seven and was riding my bike way away from home, which was common for me to do all the time. I rode out into farm land in the middle of nowhere. In the distance I saw a hunter holding a rifle and he called out to me to come closer. Little innocent fearless me rode over to where he was standing and he told me to do something totally disgusting. I didnt know it at the time that he was all turned on and ready to get down to business with me. I said no and that I had to go home. I got back on my bike and rode all the way around the field, on the road that I had rode in on. He had me in his sight for a long time and could have shot me. God knows he knew I would go straight home and tell my parents, and that they would immediately call the police. Well, I did and they did. While this all happened with that man, I felt such a sense of danger and I know an Angel was there with me, telling me it wasnt time to go home to Heaven yet.
I get so upset when I hear of kids that were raped or killed. I still believe they had an Angel, because it was their time to go home, as hard as that is to come to terms with, especially for parents.

सिंस ऑफ़ थे Father

Sins of the father are revisited upon his progeny. I cant speak for boys, but an unloving non-present father can be devastating to girls. He sets the tone for what they expect of and look for in men for the rest of her life. He is the one who teaches her self respect and self worth. If he shows her no love, she will only feel comfortable with cold withdrawn men. If he abuses her in a verbal or physical way, she will only feel comfortable with mean and brutal men. If he does not support her financially, she will only feel comfortable with cheap bums. But if he loves her and cherishes her and keeps his hands off of her, she will look for males who treat her the same way, and will not understand or tolerate anything less. Because shes never felt undeserving of respect, for her as a female.
This said, I did not have that good dad. He would never hold a job. It forced my mother to support us, which in turn never allowed me to bond with her as she was never home. When he took care of me, I was tossed in a car all day and fed half a Baby Ruth candy bar while he did his crazy obsessive compulsive whatevers all day. I was bored and neglected out of my mind. When I got a little older, he had me driving cars and tractors which scared me to death and I cried all the while. It showed me he had no interest in my safety or my feelings. My mother would give me the last can of beans and go hungry herself because there was never any food or heat in the house.
Despite all this I loved my dad loyally, even over my mother. At least he never beat me like she did. I learned to put up with all his other shit, because at least he didnt beat me. To me that equated with him loving me more than she did, skewed thinking of a child.
My mom finally left him and I was devastated. This was my dad whom I adored. I hardly saw him anymore because he never paid child support. I didnt know this was why my mom wouldnt let me see him. Again my mom was the bad guy because in my mind it was all her fault. My mom became sick shortly after the divorce. She was in pain and in and out of hospitals. She finally died after a long (2 years) and painful illness. My mom wasnt even buried before he filed for custody. I took this to mean he loved me very much, he just couldnt wait to have me back. I would later find out he did it for my social security check. His same behavior continued and all my moms possessions he stole, and squirreled them away in the attic basement or barn. I never saw any of it again. The one thing I did see again when I was 14 was my penny jar that I had saved for 3 years while I was with my mother. He had it locked in a trunk in the basement and I saw it by accident. I told him I wanted it back and he muttered some nonsensical bullshit. That stupid penny jar was a defining moment in our relationship. As was an incident when I was on a visit with him when I was living with my mom. It seems so trivial and yet it hurts me to this day. I didnt have much, but I had a Barbie Doll. We were in a store and I saw a Barbie outfit I wanted so badly. I asked him if he would buy it for me. I begged, I cried, and I never forgot that. I was 6 and to me that Barbie outfit became a representation of his love for me. I think it was at that moment I started equating stuff and buying things with the measure of how much a man cherished and loved me. HE didnt. To this day I am hurt if a gift is not forthcoming for a birthday, Christmas, or anniversary. Those stupid commercials that flood TV of a man romantically giving a gift to his love, never ceases to inflame me with anger and hurts like when I was 6.
I was told this by someone else that on my first Christmas with my dad and his new wife after my mom died, that my social security check was used to buy me presents, (mind you, my birthday is also in December, the 14th) and he made her return all of them. Thats why I know he was only in it for my monthly check.
When I was 18 and had nothing he would not even loan me his junkiest car to drive. I had a bike (that I bought) and to him, that was good enough. Never mind I had to bike to and from my waitressing job all the way on the other side of town at 3:00 in the morning. That includes in snow.
There is more and its even more unbelievable than all this. It concerns my Grandma and his criminal treatment of her, but thats for another time. I think I made my point. Dads are important and even more important that they be present. An orgasm should not be the reason a child is born and never thought of again.

नो स्लीप Zone

What the heck is with that chinese! Cant get rid of it. Oh well. Its supposed to say The No Sleep Zone. Through all thats happened this year, Ive become an insomniac. It really bothered me at first and the anxiety just made it worse. Not only was I not sleeping, I was also having huge anxiety attacks because of it. Well, Ive adapted. I have been up for 4 hours already and am OK with it. I idulge in TV and then by 3 or 4 Im ready for coffee. Sometimes that puts me straight to sleep and thats OK. I sleep till I wake up. No more guilt trips. Other times I remain energized and start my day after coffee. Usually I will go spend time on the computer and Facebook until 9:30 or until I cant stand it any longer, which ever comes first. The 9:30 cut off is for The Bold And The Beautiful. I brake for B&B. To those who dont have the luxury of a flexible schedule, I truly feel for you. I dont know how I would manage with a 9-5 job. My life is not that anymore and Im getting over my guilt and self digust, and learning to roll with the punches. There must be a reason my mind wont let me sleep and Im honoring that.

थे पुर्प्ले Poodle

Ive decided I must have 2 blogs, one for the artist and one for the damaged me. Like today, I feel like Im going to either explode or die. So Im exploding in words on my computer screen. Hope this helps.
This monster on my back has been with me now for over a year and the ending keeps getting pushed to a few more months, then another few months, and etc. I have other monsters but this is the one Im dealing with now. I have to be ready to move quickly and there is no place to move to. I know where I want to be, what would placate me, but the worlds very stupid rules has eliminated that as a possibility. Im tired of wanting, longing, wishing, fantasizing, thinking positive, thinking negative, crying, freaking out, and most importantly, being disappointed. I live in a constant state of disappointment. It makes you just want to give up, lay down, and never wake up if possible. After this long stint of uncertaity that is basically what I have resorted to doing. I lay in bed, watch TV, and try to sleep as much as possible. My favorite season is passing me by once again because I dont want to be present.
Why did I title this blog the purple poodle? Because a few days ago I made an important emotional connection from now to what happened and how I dealt when I was a small child. My little white dog caused it to happen. Lily, my maltese has recently become a companion service dog. I hug her and love her and she goes everywhere with me now. I was finding it hard to function, even to leave the house. Shes my love and security just as the purple poodle was when I thought I would die. It was just too much for a little girl to deal with and my Grandma recognized I needed a symbolic life raft because I was really drowning. She bought me this purple poodle that I fell in love with in a store window. She surprised me with it, she knew me so well. When I had to go away the poodle was grandma loving me and telling me to be strong. I clung to it many nights and cried in despair. The bad side of the family, where I mostly resided, made fun of it, me, and how attached I was to it. They enjoyed teasing me and watching how upset I got over my poodle. In my mind they were spitting on that which was holy to me, the very thing that had helped me survive them. And yes they were spitting on Grandma too. It really hurt and just made me more attached.
When I was going through cancer at 50, I saw this little white dog in the window and I just had to have her. She is now my purple poodle and shes the only one that can put a smile on my face and comfort me when I feel Im losing it.
What an important connection and comparison that was! Understanding myself just a little more.