माय थौघ्ट्स तूर्ण तो दीप एंड Dark

Its dark where I am now. I cant expect anyone to understand this or to understand me. Im free associating my thoughts for this blog today so I can get it out. This is not a masterpiece work by any means. I will watch the english because I like to be perfect and I want people to see me as intelligent. It bothers the heck out of me to sound stupid. Im 57 years old. Therein lies the problem. It is a problem for me. Im not young and beautiful anymore. I cant get anything based on how I look anymore. I feel like giving up and letting go. Theres plenty wrong with me physically, that leaving could easily happen soon. I really just have to lie down, stay there, and let my desire to not be anymore overtake me. This is the nitty gritty folks. This is how it is inside my life. This is what I struggle with nearly every day. It was easier when I was pretty and when there were lots of other pretties to be had to distract me from my pain and emptiness. Any pretties I try to obtain now are very few and not very pretty at all. In fact they are pathetic. Because in this old fat body lives a person who still feels 16. What I see and what I am does not fit with what I feel or is the truth at all. I felt very ugly till I was 18 and then I got contact lenses. Males started falling all over me. Suddenly I had a power I was uncomfortable with and didnt know how to handle. I still felt ugly inside however, even though I could at times see me through anothers eyes and see maybe some of what they saw. I totally relied on that and couldnt do anything else to give myself love. I let whoever wanted to take from me, take whatever and however much they wanted from me. I thought I was getting something in return, love. Then I wondered why no one ever stuck around or wanted to make me a forever person in their life. I really didnt figure that out till it was all gone and unretrievable. Not until I couldnt play those tiresome games anymore, or had a bounty of good health and energy to give anymore, or until my health wouldnt allow me to drink and have one night stands anymore, or till I wouldnt tolerate men who abused and cheated on me anymore. When this was finally all over, I had nothing more left. Not to give or a place to receive it.
Now I want a new life, a new start, freshness, health, beauty, a lucrative art career but Im an old 57 year old fat woman in ill health, depressed beyond my ability to cope and just cant find the right meds to stabilize my bio chemistry. My body wants to kill me one minute then live in a fantasy world the next. I could have done something with my life if I had a body that didnt betray me, a body I could rely on, a body that I drove rather than it driving me.
It seems everyone is either looking for an artist thats well known or looking to discover "a young emerging artist"! If I see or hear that one more time I might just off myself right here and now. Do older women have no value? What makes their work worthless or unremarkable? Besides, all Im doing is switching from one unattainable dream to another. I cant be that super model or famous actress anymore so now I want to be another O Keefe. I think it all comes down to sex, sex appeal, the if or maybes of possibly getting in my beautiful pants to take something from me. But, oh, thats right, Im not that anymore. There is no sex to be gotten from me, so why bother? I really think that is a womans worth in this world and if she doesnt grow a pair of balls or secure her place before she becomes obsolete, she doesnt have a snowballs chance in hell to survive happily the rest of her bitter sorry life.

हेअड्स साउथ इन अन Instant

The trouble with being bi poler is in one instant everything can change. A word, a look, an opinion by someone else can change your immediate reality. I was feeling great today, a day that is traditionally the hardest day of the whole year for me. I thought I would be handling it well this year for the first time. And then a button is pushed innocently, because others are completely unaware of what my buttons are, and Im off on the downhill slide to Sadsville.
I am so disconnected with my family. Its a never ending misunderstanding, hurt, anger, and withdrawel. No matter how much I try to connect on any meaningful level, I get my feelings hurt. Maybe I am too sensitive. No one can truly feel what another feels inside, or what that person has been through in their life. But where does love come in? Unconditional love. And forgiveness? Mothers day is all about unconditional love. Who on earth is supposed to love us like our mothers? It is expected of mothers to love unconditionally. It is the highest expression of love. But are we willing to love everyone this way? No. Alot of us didnt get these perfect mothers that is so rampantly portrayed by the media incessantly. I didnt have one, not only that, but she died when I was 9. I wasnt that to my son because I was a troubled motherless teenager with an abusive husband and a newborn. I ran away to maintain my sanity and my life. And for that I am brandished with a scarlet X by everyone for the rest of my life. No one understands, no one wants to talk about it, everyone is bitter, and I dont even exist in some circles. I feel like vermin who roams the earth. Maybe that makes them feel better that Im punished for the rest of my life. It is not cared about, that I struggled everyday for normalcy. It doesnt matter that I cried and prayed that maybe someday I would be given a reprieve for my sins.
Its funny how my mothers parents, my grandparents, said they wanted nothing more to do with me when I fled an abusive marriage. I literally left running down a country road shoeless in Birnamwood Wisconsin. I ran through cow pastures to escape my husband who was determined to drag me back. I went to my grandmas who really didnt want me there. I ended up once again the ward of the state and eventually went back into the mental hospital. There was no where else for me to go. And yes, I was being a terrible mother. I ran away to be an actress according to my mother in law. She made sure everyone knew the lie and not the truth. That is the story everyone has recited concerning me. I am just not worth much to them.
My heart is just breaking with no healing in sight. Im just so sad now, I probably should sign off before I say more. More that I shouldnt really say.

व्हेन विल आईटी गो आवे?

Im watching Nancy Grace and someone is testifying to witnessing the abuse of a toddler. The baby is locked up and put away, pushed down when trying to walk, hit over things he doesnt understand, and he doesnt cry because he is afraid to. Afraid to cry lest he gets punished even more severely. All he can do is turn away and let the tears well up in his eyes. He can save the real crying for when he is alone and that is most of the time.
That was me also. Dont ask me how I remember this, I dont know how. It comes back to me in bits and pieces and when it does, its as if Im reliving it all over again. I am not even always conscious of it at the time. I will just spiral down into a hopeless weeping little child, afraid of her own shadow. It usually is precipitated by something I see or hear. I guess you could say it is like post traumatic syndrome disorder.
I remember while in kindergarten and grades after, I had a paper doll that I would make happily and so carefreely skip across my desk top. After a few skips I would knock her down with my other hand with such force and with such sick joy, that I would reenact this over and over throughout the day. It interfered with my attention in class and the teacher would often yell at me. I felt the happiness in the skipping doll and in a split second I felt the pleasure in knocking any little bit of joy and security that poor little girl had right out of her. It confused me and I progressed into an adult even more confused, switching between wanting to be secure and happy to anger so deep and terrifying that it caused me to avoid anything that made me feel that way. It is probably why I couldnt deal with my son when he started to walk. I never felt anger or hate towards him and I never even touched him in frustration. I was too paralysed to. I just had to leave. I had no other acceptable coping skill.
This blogger has failed and I couldve lost everything I just typed so I will end it here, hopefully to continue this thread at a later time. Wish me luck. Here it goes.

नोट त्र्यिंग Anymore

Im not trying anymore. 57 years of trying and not giving up has left me exactly in the same place. Im a no one thats no where. The anger and bitterness just wont subside. I can push it down pretend its gone, not look at it at all for a time, but its still there like the cesspool that lingers beneath our feet. This is mental meanderings. It is what I allow myself to express so that I dont explode and should on everybody else. The only difference now is that I have a virtual audience to my dirty secret. As I have said before, If you dont like this, dont read it. Its mostly for myself anyway. If someone can glean something positive out of this, then good for you. Im happy for you. I will remain here till the cows come home, the world ends, or a magical faery comes and waves me on. Im in this garbage bag with a wayward brain for some unknown reason to me. I dont even know if knowing would help anything.
A funk is where one gets stuck and cant seem to lift even their little pinky to aid their escape from pergatory. Even if you could move your pinky, you so dont want to because you just dont care. If death came to take you away, that would be fine and there is no particular feeling good or bad about it. Its existence. The most I can say about it is that I think, and that I think I feel, but not even sure about that one.
Why me? Why not me? For all the things that exist in space, there must be someone that must take the hit. Of all the infinite possibilities of expression, there must be something somewhere that must express this way. Its me. Lucky me. Dont go yelling at me and tell me Im lazy, because you will see venom come spewing out of my mouth the likes of which has never been observed by any living creature. If you say to someone, you are lazy, and they feel sorry for themselves, maybe they are lazy. If you say that to someone who is not lazy and they become enraged, then obviously they are not lacking in energy! They are lacking something, that spark of life that keeps us all moving forward. There spark isnt there.

सुगर Addiction

I was listening to a subliminal CD on extreme motivation, and just kind of laying there in bed because I wasnt feeling well. This is a time I take for myself to meditate or fall asleep, whatever my body wants to do. Otherwise I would just vegetate in front of the TV, mindlessly passing the day, waiting for inspiration or energy to hit me. Sometimes the Cd will stimulate me to such a degree that I can not lay there. I must get up and do something. Other times the tone takes on a more meditative, soul searching mode, that is if I dont fall asleep. Today I started wandering. Strange seemingly unrelated subjects started popping into my mind, with no rhyme or reason. I remember wanting to be told where Natalie Holloway was. I got pink round plastic snake thing. Hmm. OK. Then suddenly I wanted to know why I was addicted to sugar. I started hearing, seeing the old baseball star Babe Ruth. What on earth could that mean and how is that the answer to my question? Shocked, I realized that I had a very personal connection to Babe Ruth, or should I say Baby Ruth, the candy bar.
When I was anywhere from a toddler to 5 years old. My dad would take care of me when my mom worked. He dragged me along on his strange wanderings and faux work errands. We would be away from the house from morning to late at night. I longed to be home and have a normal childhood, play with my friends, my toys, in other words, do what I wanted to do. But I was forced to sit there, usually in the car for a hellish length of time on end. Those were the first times I remembered having extreme anxiety. I still have nightmares to this day about those times at least twice a month, leaving me very depressed upon wakening.
The only bright spot in my day was a Baby Ruth bar that dad would buy both of us to eat for the whole day. He would divide it anywhere between half and a quarter, depending on how much I could argue for a bigger portion. I remember having tantrums in order to get more candy. Sometimes I would win and thats when I felt my daddy loved me. God only knows how that affected my development both bodily and mentally. The only time I got a delicious healthy meal was when he would take me over to his mothers, my grandma.
So, there is the connection to my addiction to sugar. Yes, it is a physical craving, but more importantly, it is a soul craving. It equals love and nourishment to me. Sugar is what makes the anxiety go away, and the more of it I can get, the more I "win". But as everyone knows, addiction has a very bad side. You feel worse after the so called "wonderful feeling". And you feel more hungry, more anxious, more self hating, and more angry.
I can only hope that making this connection in my mind and by writing about it can help me manage this once and forever.

फ्रीदोम ऑफ़ Speech

I am pissed off! The freedom of speech amendment was designed to protect Americans from SPEEKing freely and openly about their religious and personal views, without fear of persecution. What have we now? Kids are banned from talking about their Christian faith in schools. Public areas are banned from any one faith being promoted, mostly Christian. And yet we are free to say anything vile or hurtful to others. These jerks are protected by this amendment. We are talking about pornographers, hate mongers, and anyone who wishes to display obscene material. First of all, since when does "speech" include images? How is an image of a woman with her legs spread or being brutally harmed in some manner "speech"? What is the pornographers message in this freedom that he has been given? Why does he not just say, " I like to see women with their legs spread and I like other men to see it because they pay me lots of money to see that". Would that be more honest? And wouldnt that be protected under the law? Yes, it is protected. But distributing images should not be protected. The saddest thing is that we cannot freely speak of our religion anymore, lest it offend. How crazy is that? And why do we sit on our asses and do nothing about it? Do you see my point?

लिविंग इन अ फंतासी World

Watching "The New Adventures Of Old Christine", (love that show) and I was reminded of something I did just cause I could. I was about 23. I was so easy it was pitiful. I was feeling angst at the time. Resentful and maybe even a little mean. OK, alot mean.
A good looking man, my teacher, was one of those cruisers who looked at anything female like she was lunch. I knew he was engaged. But, he was attractive and into me so I had a date with him. I just went through probably the most painful breakup of my life. It really deep sixed my ego. I didnt know who I was anymore or what I believed in. I wont go into details here but it was about as bad as it gets in the heartbreak arena. This man said awful things to me. As he pushed me out of his doorway after retrieving the rest of my stuff, he said all I ever was good for was sex, and slammed the door. He was the first man I had ever gave my heart and soul to. Waking up in the morning together he would say I was still fuckable, sans makeup and a shower.
OK, so Ive explained my mood at the time, now back to that idiot teacher. I took to heart what (we'll call him C.) C said and I was going to give this man (dont even remember his name, we.ll call him T for teacher) a night he would never forget. My inspiration was a bruised ego and a gallon of wine. As far as I was concerned, I was an actress doing a porn movie, and thats what he got, a porn movie. I did in no shape or size enjoy any of it. That mans eyes were rolling back into his head. By the time I got through with him, T would never want regular anything ever again. He kept calling and asking me "in", and I always had a fantastic excuse on the ready for his horny self.
Years had gone by and T once again gave it another try and asked me out. He told me that sex was never the same with anybody else since me and he just couldnt get over it. Silently pleased with myself, I rebuffed him one last time. I never told him about the farse and I wasnt sorry. It was my one "Big Get Even", and it felt great!
I guess the point I want to make is, we are all actors on a stage. Sex these days is played up and acted out in the media to be something much more spectacular than it is. If it seems too good to be true, than it most assuredly is. And if you spend the rest of your life looking for that "whatever", you will never find it. Porn movies and airbrushed 18 year olds have become the gold standard in this society. I have news for you, that isnt real either, not even close. I have had the opportunity to see a few famous beautiful women walk on a movie set just out of bed with no makeup, and I did not even recognize them. It is all fantasy and we choose to live in a fantasy land, some of us more than others. All I can say is one day you will wake up from this wet dream and find yourself past the half century mark wondering why you could never find "it". And then it may finally dawn on you that you were chasing an illusion.