Feelings

Feelings

Have you ever sat down to write something, only to realize that you have nothing to say? By “nothing to say”, I mean nothing nice to say, nothing of consequence, therefore, you know within the deepest part of your soul that the best thing to do is keep your mouth shut and keep on keepin’ on, until, eventually, that ugliness in your head passes and you can once again write something nice. We all visit blogs for humor, inspiration, to escape our own lives, but not to visit someone else’s bitterness. If a person has a valid story to share, that is completely different, because I don’t perceive that as bitterness, I perceive that as “Hey, this is what I’ve been through.” Life experience is, sometimes, extremely negative in the living, but in the survival? We can look back on it and say “I made it through the darkest, ugliest, most brutal shit, and I’m still here.”

Of late, I really haven’t wanted to discuss a whole lot. Mostly because I am dealing with some very heavy, dark, brutal shit. My Fibromyalgia pain has escalated to a point where I cannot handle it any more, and I feel like each day is a battle for my life. That seems dramatic, but when you live with this son of a bitch day in a day out, having someone say you don’t have it, that you don’t suffer, and that you’re “perfectly fine” is God damn insulting.

Sometimes you can pick up little tidbits on my mind-set or mood based on the things I post when I am not writing, and other times you can’t because I might simply be feeling the need to be quiet. Not every song is indicative of my mood, but sometimes they are.

May, on a whole, is a dark month for me. It is riddled with loss, and from start to finish, I am reminded on a daily basis of each loss. It makes it tough to get out of bed each day and conduct myself in any kind of manner. In fact, I will probably be M.I.A for parts of this month because I just need to get back to myself. I need to take a step back and remind myself who I am, how far I have come, what direction I am going in, and re-set my goals. I need to deal with the pain I am going through, both physically and emotionally, and either go it alone or go through it with the support of good friends. Honestly, I’m used to doing everything by myself when it comes to emotions and hard shit, so when I have support, it’s often hard for me to adjust to it. It’s been a long time since I’ve had people I can rely on no matter what. That is no one else’s failing, it is merely the result of a lot of lies, abandonment, neglect, and the end result: Anger. I am not the kind of person that can remain sane, smile sweetly, and pretend people haven’t done horrible things to me. I’m not good at being fake. I don’t eat bullshit politely with a knife and fork and ask you to pass the salt. It’s not in my nature. I can be the absolute best friend you’ll ever have in this world, or the single most venomous person who will ever deal with, and it all depends on how you treat me. I try very hard to be supremely fair, but I’ve reached that point where my patience is severely limited. Idiots need not apply.

So, if you’re feeling like I am being neglectful here, please understand that it’s time for me to focus deeply on self-care. I cannot bring you quality and share my projects with you if I am unable to focus and create. I will absolutely be around, but not in an immense capacity. I will still read what everyone writes and posts, I will still comment, and I am reachable by phone and e-mail, and via Facebook, but beyond that, for now, I’m out. I’m drained. I need a break.

62352_375123302623512_558357610_n

Dad…

Dad…

It’s been six years today since you passed away. I still remember the phone calls that morning. I remember every day after it so vividly, even the months of not being able to get out of bed or function after burying you. I never want to re-live it again, yet it plays out each year in ways I never imagined.

Growing up I wanted to be as little like you as humanly possible, and you know why. I chose to separate myself and be my own person, because I couldn’t fathom having your blood running through my veins.

Our relationship was a difficult one, but in the end, I made sure you got the best medical care possible, I planned your funeral, and gave the eulogy. I did everything you asked of me. I spoke at the memorial service. You had battled cancer bravely for 15 years, and I chose to honor you instead of pointing out your many flaws. I can always discuss those in therapy. I wasn’t about to embarrass you in front of friends, family, or your co-workers. Lets not talk about your extended family, because you should be utterly ashamed of them. I know I am.

Today, I can hear your voice whenever my brother says certain things, and I can see your expressions when he does certain things. You live on in your son, with his twisted sense of humor, good heart, and firm belief that every single year is going to be a winning one for the New York Giants and the New York Yankees (Not this year M, sorry.). I’m sure you’re rolling over in your grave knowing that Mariano Rivera retired this Fall.

Unfortunately for my brother, he also picked up a lot of your bad habits and a great many of your issues. I have tried my best to help him, but now he’s on his own. I won’t allow myself to re-live my childhood and adolescence with another person with abusive tendencies who doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with the things he says or does, who refuses to take responsibility for his actions. I won’t let him become the worst of you, and I won’t allow him to hurt the people that you hurt for so long. If he ever treats a wife and children the way you did, I will put a stop to it. I won’t allow the cycle to continue.

Fortunately, at the core of who he is, he’ll give someone the shirt off his back and save a life. I have seen him do it countless times, and I am in awe of that calm, patient, gentle soul that is caring and accepting, that shows genuine concern for others, that listens to people and shows such immense kindness, it’s incredibly endearing. But when he turns on a dime, I hear and see you, and I probably always will.

Yes, you had your good points. You were smart & sharp, educated, and possessed a warped sense of humor, and a deep and abiding love for cats. You had amazing work ethic. You passed those things on to your children. Bravo.

In fairness, I know you were a product of your own childhood and the traumas you endured. I get it, I really do, but it’s no excuse. I realize you never wanted children, and to that I say “Then you never should have gotten married, and if you did, it should have been to someone who also did not want children.”

For years after your death, I decided to let it all slide. What difference would it make now, carrying around all the anger and hostility I felt and still, to this day, feel? I don’t want to live in the past and carry any of this forward, but the truth is, it does remain. Lingering around forever, like bad perfume.

I have always been very open and honest about what I’ve experienced in my life. I’d be more ashamed if I didn’t discuss the things that have shaped me into who I am. Nothing was perfect, but my mother came pretty damn close. She had to carry the weight of two parents, after all. You may have been physically present, you may have been home each night after a long day of work, but you did not raise your kids. That fell to my mother and Grandmother, and later the responsibility also fell to me. It continues to fall to me to this day.

I can forgive you for what you put us through, and some day that forgiveness will come to fruition. Not today, maybe not in a year or ten years, but eventually I will forgive it, or at the very least, make peace with it. I will NEVER forgive you for what you put my mother through. She deserved a husband who was everything she was, and God, did you fall short in every possible way, to the point where it actually pained me to bury her next to you, for in death I felt she deserved some peace and space that you did not also inhabit. I know eventually it’s just bones, but it still matters to me. She will always matter, for she is a part of me that is deeper than blood and bones.

This was not what I intended to write today, but somehow pain has risen to the surface and I do not possess the ability to “let it fly”. To fake it would be falseness of self, and I cannot abide by that. For today, I may not be able to “let it fly”, but I can certainly “let it be”, because to ask any more or any less of myself would be to court more madness and that is something I do not want, nor do I deserve. For today, it is what it is.

‘Six years can change everything. It can change how you see the world, how you see yourself, how you see your relationships, and how you see the future. I have hardened. I have softened. I have strengthened. I have focused on myself, and I have grown. I have fought battles, and won. I have fought battles that weren’t worth fighting, and walked away unscathed. I have tended wounds, and worked on scars. I have loved and been loved. I have seen beauty, and I have seen the dark underbelly. I have accomplished things people told me I would never attain on my own. I have risen out of the ashes, as the infinite phoenix of my own destiny. Most importantly, I have stood on my own two feet. No matter where life takes me, I know who I am. I know my worth and value.

In Memory of my father, who knows why these things are all so very important. …May You Never Be Broken Again.’

I’ve Endured This…

I've Endured This...

My pain has hit an all-time high. I can’t sleep, I’m struggling like a motherfucker right now to just “be”. It’s a struggle and a half, and I’ve had enough. I’m really, truly, sick and tired of this illness. In times like this, it’s harder and harder to be strong and be myself.

There Is No Poi…

There Is No Point…

“There is no point treating a depressed person as though she were just feeling sad, saying, ‘There now, hang on, you’ll get over it.’ Sadness is more or less like a head cold- with patience, it passes. Depression is like cancer.” ―Barbara Kingsolver

*I am not minimizing cancer, for those of you that might be thinking along those lines. You’d be incredibly mistaken to think I ever would. I’ve lost more than half of my family to cancer, I am not being insensitive.*