silence

when i finally let myself start typing i was writing every day.  it felt good - getting the bile out of my brain.  call it kvetching, bitching, venting or processing - it's all because some things have to be purged.  the primary result of my purge, other than the immediate feel of release - letting the cat out of the bag is very freeing, was that my mother cut communication (see previous post "have i told you lately that i love you?").  i have wondered if i should still wait to publish the writing i've been working on for several years that are actually about my abuse.  if she grew so defensive of the man who took custody of my son, how would she react to statements about her family?  about her.

i have silenced myself again, because she doesn't deserve my truth right now.  not to mention, she can't handle the truth.  obviously.  she never has been able to - striving for the norman rockwell moments in life, she seems to have natural blinders to the hard stuff.  sometimes i wish i had them, so i could plough through the responsibilities of adulthood and parenting.  i wish i hadn't broken my fingernails trying to claw hers off her face.  but she just keeps rebuilding that crystal palace where things don't get dirty and voices don't get raised.  maybe children don't get molested there anymore either.  one can hope.

i am in my cave.  i am alone here, except for the child.  the child i focus each day to protect from the world at large.  sometimes by denying us both that world - but i don't think it misses us.  we are the ones missing out, but i tell myself it will be safe soon.  or someone will come to guide us.  to protect us.  someone will come to raise me, so that i might better raise him.  someone will come. 

and then the silence will end.  and we will hear music again.
we will dance.

peaceful easy feelings

it has been a transitional month to say the least.  some of the deepest healing work i've done since february/march and feel all the taller for it.  many life things have developed in the last week and although this blog has no true theme or thruline as i write it, mostly for myself - i mean who else is reading it anyways, it's a time to reflect and process.  certainly sometimes a very healing purge.

i am constantly reminded, as we enter a significant election year this autumn, of the variance of beliefs and opinions found in our small community of music and art minded folks.  not everyone believes in unity.  in my experience, not even all those who promote the concept of unity live by it's standards.  while i love sport, i don't believe in competition.  i believe there is room for everyone at the table.  i believe in balance and inclusion and equality, which all support the concept of unity.  the human race is the solitary race.  any dissent that doesn't include thought-provoking, rational debate is simply spew - fear is debilitating. 

the above sentiments encapsulate all three things on my mind this evening.  one is the upcoming presidential race and the social and performance politics that will come up in our village.  it is a time ripe for music and art as a primary tool.  i hope the creative masses of asheville will not be afraid to step out and step up.  act up.  activate change.  i hope that my own fear won't keep me in a box.

i am also thick in a mental aftermath of a night which included too many crowns and being forced into unexpected treats.  that is not a complaint by any means.  i was thankful for the opportunity to get out.  to hang out with a man i love and respect.  i was also incredibly thankful for the agreement to not hang out at one stop and go down the street to.... well, anywhere but the onestop.  it's a lovely place - especially the floor - and the sound is fine for the space and there are always lots of good people there, but i don't need to invite drama into my life, and when someone clearly doesn't like you it seems stupid to hang out at their establishment.  so, my dear man accommodated my need for speed and we sped away into that good night.  i was blessed to see some of my favorite women watching the screaming j's and thankful for a few drinks with good people.

at that point, i'm sure we should have gone home but i was outvoted 3-1 and returned to the onestop.  fully prepared to be asked to leave.  but adults behaved like adults and somehow we were there long enough for a few more drinks.  in rare form, i lost count.  i will cosmically thank the management for allowing me to be present.  i had a great time and was gracious, as always, to watch some of my favorite musicians funk it up.  mr.'s bjorlie, knorr, hovey, mason and more.  it had been way too long since i'd heard an instrument being played live, other than my plunking away on mine.  which is so not the same thing.  oh, for the day when i can sing while they play ((((((O))))))

i only feel a smirk of what can't even be described as guilt for loving another woman's man.  the feeling is like a suspension of disbelief - and guilt, well what is that anyway - more negative judgement that in my god's name must be declared unnecessary.  this feeling of appreciation is only slightly tainted by the illusion of our ability to be together.  except there is no illusion.  we are honest with eachother and when we're together, we are together.  what of those around us, that judge me for loving you and judge you for betraying her?  i wish i cared more for their projections but i just cast them back as reflections.  it confuses me but it doesn't upset me. 

if only your sordid tales of swinging didn't taint the spiritual objectives of a more puritan concept of the open relationship.  if only you would approach the topic with her.  discretion is not ill advised, but certainly goes against the grain conceptually.  which is why people who label themselves swingers can sometimes be so painfully outspoken.  my hypocrisy knows no bounds, but i'm painfully outspoken for different reasons.  one of them is because i find it difficult to trust people who are so very good at keeping secrets.

another big shift that occured this week is that mark griffith switched his alias to his real name on facebook and one of joshua's random searches last week brought them book to book.  he sent him a friend request and wrote him an email and has been patiently checking only once a day.  he seems content with the finding.  "even if he doesn't respond, atleast i can find him there".  joshua doesn't know what blocking is, hopefully neither does his father.  my greatest prayer is that he will reach out to him there.  i hope every day is the day he knocks on the door and introduces himself.

so in flight tonight, we unify.  i am spending a decent percentage of my days right now in meditation and psychic connection.  it is a time to be vigilent with the tools that keep you whole and connected.  to your body, your gods, your people, your world at large and the oneness of the human race.  it is a time of death and growth simultaneously in every given moment.  we must embrace these changes in order to outgrow them.  the next year is an incredibly important time to activate your deepest desires and to share your greatest visions.  i recommend you watch your volume and enthusiasm in public, hang with people who get it and moderate your substances.  love.  peace.  unity.

all situations fixed.

the stillness in the dancing

my heartbeat reverberates my madness and it swells as i move around this space.  the music moves me, motivates me to master my emotions and my thoughts.  with every beat the space echos sentiments of evolution.  i wonder how many times our paths crossed in so many years and then i wonder:  why now?  why not then?  have you really been almost everywhere i've been?  and will our paths ever merge again?

now i look out onto a fresh horizon.  noone to disappoint.  nothing to hold me back.  i wonder what my children will think when they look back from the future, but i believe they will understand.  i believe it will be a different world.  i know that judgement has already been passed, so now the only limitations are my own.  i will always know what is real.  i will laugh at their perceptions and only cry alone.

you are wandering toward a certain destiny, aimlessly and carelessly, but with unrelenting purpose.  you laugh at your loved ones and find yourself more and more alone.  you are envious of those who look up to you.  they have so much more than you had even dared to desire.  you wonder if they pity you.  you wonder if your loved ones laugh at you.  you know that they do.

in time, there will come an equality.  i ask my heart to beat balance.  i feel my space unify and strengthen my resolve as i move through it, dancing for your heart.  listen to it's beat.  it's yours.  yours alone.  i can hear it.  like a child who rests on it's mother's soft bosom, i can feel the silk nest of your chest against my cheek and my ear and i know that your heart beats in time with mine.  listen and you will find me.

you can have it all.  i can as well.  we already have it all.  it is there for the taking as soon as we reach for it.  can you hear the silence in the music?  can you feel the stillness in the dancing?

i was always there.  you have never left.

hunger

Found in a draft folder from 8.11.11:

"i wake up daily with my belly growling and satisfy it with glasses of water and fiber tablets.  i worry about my son's headaches as i ration out cheese and peanut butter and pear slices.  i wonder why my head is throbbing and i remember that i drank dinner because it's easier to get people to buy you booze than food.  i thought our $120 in food stamps would be available two days ago but i forgot they changed the processing date this summer.  we have four more days and then we can go buy some food.  every day seems longer than the one before it.  we'll be careful and only get what we need, and we'll keep rationing to try and make it last a whole month.  we'll go get the most affordable groceries, provided we can get to the grocery and back after putting $3.45 in coins in the gas tank yesterday.  the gas light is still on.  i wonder how i might get a storage unit for a few things if we get evicted.  i wonder how i got here.  i wonder if there is a time in my future where i don't feel totally and completely alone.  i don't know how to move.  i am stuck in this body with this mind.  i am frozen in fear and loathing, wishing for a string of men, who will pay me for my time and my touch and my nakedness.  i have already crossed all the lines in my mind and now i'm just biding my time.  my body aches for food and affection.  i don't care anymore about the consequences.  i just want to survive."

Almost 7 years later, 3.3.18:

I lost my home 2 months after I wrote this. I took my son to my mother's home & lived in my van for 2 months. After 18 months of vomitting every time I brushed my teeth.... due to PTSD and the surfacing of repressed memories, some of my teeth began to fall apart.

I received Section 8 and found an apartment to bring home my youngest son. So much loss in the previous years (2008-2011 was a severe period of my life) leading to so much healing and growth.

By 2012, I had found resolve. I practiced acceptance daily. As I repaired my affordable apartment I began my journey with EMDR. Eye Movement Desensitization & Reprocessing has healed my brain in many ways and empowered me to transform my life.

Today I return to Austin, TX for the first time in 16 years. I am heading to one of the most rewarding conferences in the entertainment industry, SXSW. Platinum pass for this leader in Edutainment. I am in graduate school, healthier than I've been in almost 20 years. My son is thriving.  I launched a podcast last month, Full Disclosure Asheville. I love my life.

So here's the thing. Embrace your plight. Write and sing your prayers. Believe in yourself. Hold on. Time does heal all wounds. Travel in multiple dimensions and seed your wildest dreams.

Hold on to your hunger, and allow it to feed your soul. You are full of breath and life. You shall overflow ((((((((O))))))))

beer and self-loathing in ashevegas

i suppose there's a modicum of pressure in being the happiest town in the country.  i sometimes wonder how beer city usa, home of the best homegrown, where the pharmacists and land developers are some of the wealthiest folks, will maintain this sense of humanitarian intoxication.  every now and then the fog settles and things have to get polished up.  the crust of the meringue on our key lime pie is very thin.  underneath drunken smiles, celebrating new clients and groundbreaking ceremonies, record releases and non-profit visions, lies a rash of violent break-ins, drug induced child molestations and bar bathroom rape.  married men in dive bars, cash burning holes in the pockets that their wives just mended.  divorced women dancing the line between harlot and whore.  cocaine brained geniuses passing out in their puke, while some novice deejay searches their jacket for loot. 

we sing our own praises and perfect all the tricks.  we are providing a place where the party is always available.  where freaks are bred like heirloom tomatoes and boundaries are clarified just to be crossed.  rule breakers toast drinks with rule makers and you don't need a full set of teeth to express an opinion on world finance.

asheville, stop repeating yourself.  you're not convincing anyone who's going to be around to support your preposterous notions when the snow is falling in a few months.  sit back and enjoy the moment.  you've created something that entertains all your whimsy and fanciful notions.  you can have an upscale dining experience or pbr in the streets with the same state of bliss.  both are likely to include dancing.  recognize the beauty in authenticity and stop projecting the facade of plenty.  most of our population is struggling.  and those who aren't are the conservative vote.  they could give a shit if another burlesque dancer is out of her retail job or some single mama can't afford the mortgage her ex-husband left when he went to california two winters ago and never came back.

i'm told my younger son's father owns a lot of land in west virginia.  that he lives a good life, with his wife and two kids and their incredibly profitable farm and i wonder what karma lies in not sharing.  i wish i had been better at sharing.  both times, i suppose.  one extreme or the other, as they say.  the irony of two fathers named mark.  one a condescending prick at the federal building, proudly displaying his choice to denounce me as useless, even dangerous, and another who lives underground in fear of me.  both small-minded and weak.  i dominated both of them as sport and loathe who i was when i did so.  so full of hot air i should have floated away, but instead preyed on what was available and was grounded by that universal sense of humour called offspring.  now i long to be dominated.  or at the very least, to be advised.  guided.  supported.  grounded.

grounded.  grounding.  i was grounded by my parents often in my youth, but had no concept of what it meant to be grounded the way i more commonly use the word now.  i wonder what getting grounded would have been like, if i'd had actual tools for grounding.  what would my teenage world have been like with meditation, sage to burn or vetivert to rub on my feet.  i suppose i unknowingly used tobacco and journaling, possibly in excess, as that was what was available:  grandma's cigarettes and the words flying around in my head.  get grounded asheville, before some higher power grounds us with water, wind or fire.

thank you for your acceptance and your tolerance.  i will choose whiskey and self-love any day of the week, but i will embrace your beer and self-loathing if you promise to pitch in on the chores.  there are people here doing amazing things.  they come and they go.  some say they will never leave, but everything is changing.  many will go back to where they came from.  some will go anew, to explore the changes.  the rest of us have nowhere else to go - we are road bound with roots - we belong here, nesting and creating in this valley.  we have to work together so, enough with the hate.  let's clear the plate and work together and grow.  i may be scratching at the belly of the underdog right now, but i'll be back to ride on his brow.  i stay plugged in, even when i'm cast aside.  i know i can sing and i strut when i stride, but i will also admit that i'm dying inside.  your hoops become boring after so many years, what's fresh to your ass is just another cheap beer in another odd year and i'm an old bitch so i can smell your fear.  i wish i could tell you i loved you my dear.  i know you're just hoping that you can fit in - you are going to break if you don't learn to bend.  you're right in the middle - these are your friends.  yet you look out at me and still need to feel big, so you kick like a donkey and snort like a pig. 

deflect the hot lights and make a big stink:  "please direct your attention to the lady in pink.  you know her, she's crazy, she played here last year.  just don't get too close or she'll bite off your ear.  she loves like van gogh because we painted her so, it's amazing what projections can form, don't you know.... " and i can be one in your stable of fools, because that's what you do when you're young, rich and cool, right?  surround yourself with a circle of jewels.  other young talent with promise and hope.  be careful, lest you end up with far too much rope.  like santa on easter with halloween elves, i hate it when the chosen go and hang themselves.   the brain goes insane from too much refrain, so please keep it fresh and tighten the reigns and don't let the horses get put up so wet, you'll be living out songs and grasping forgrets, wondering how everything got so over the top and wishing the carousel knew how to stop but the horses go up and the tigers go down and the ticker tape paper blows all over town.

wake up asheville.  the smoke has cleared.  there's no room left for fear.  especially of each other.

what now?

how did we get to this place together?  there is noone left to talk me back from the cliff.  i will take what you have.  your naked need and the thoughts that haunt your clean, pristine existence.  i will take what i need to build something better.  this life where i am handed fish with disdain while i beg someone to teach me, is no longer enough.  i will teach myself to fish and until i have caught my own - i will barter for yours.  what will i barter with you ask?  i have many talents.  the actual question becomes, what are they willing to give up their fish for?  a clean house or tailored lawn, custom draperies or a new dress, healing massage or reiki....  they will give up a little for intoxication.  and sometimes more for some conversation.  they will give even more for sublimation.  and whatever you ask for gratification.  and i have no choice but to reflect their desperation.


your dice, your wad.  my own vice squad.


for years i've walked the line and danced in a ring of fire, but now my innocence is dead and i have my own desires.  i don't need your pity and i don't care for your disgust.  i will still be watching when you begin to rust.  i notice when you look at me from across a crowded room and i wonder when our paths will cross.  we could fuck in an alley at noon.  i hate the way i want you as you stagger out the door and wonder why we ever met and what that night was for.  you took my breath away and planted seeds of deprivation.  you cultivated cravings that reflect this dying nation.  secrets rife with greed and need and playing dangerous roles when open doors and open lives are the saviors for our souls.  so instead of cumming into your life willing to implore, i will cast myself as mistress mary, temporary whore.  you will be my passcode and i'll call out your name and none of them will realize their pawnship in our game.  don't deny your starring role, own your inspiration.  soon you will come to harvest the fruits of your creation.

excuse me while i kiss the sky

long ago i played this part willingly
worked myself into the script
but now the time has come
that we all need the script to be flipped
i let myself stand in the wings
but that was in the past
one long ass mistake i let myself make
and now you all want to see me typecast

i don't know why committed men
seem to make me rhyme
i do know that i just go with the flow
and in my mind love is blind
and now i hear of another girl
somehow looking down on my friends
and i ask myself "ashevillage -
when does the bull shit end?"

i don't even know you
but i do know that you're kind
and i don't wish to hurt anyone
by admiring what isn't mine
but people need to recognize
and open up their eyes
and shovel out their own stable
and give up the ghost that lies
i never hit on anyone
or flashed booty in nobody's face
i'm just a woman on my own
looking for a place

a place where i can get in, fit in
maybe even stay
a place where i can mostly work
and that would be okay
a place where i am met with smiles
invitations to walk on stage
a place where i can play and dance
and sing and love and rage
a place where visions come to life
lifted off my page
a place where i can support my family
with more than minimum wage

and i just like his smile, his eyes
but mostly his open mind
the way it pours into my heart
riding on the wings of the rhyme
but i don't have to tell you
you hear his voice every day
i'm sure it makes you hot like a tater tot
or some fireworks on freedom day
and it is not my aim to fix what's workin'
'cause if it's workin' it don't need to be fixed
but unless it's open for everyone to read
there's always gonna be tricks

my advice to you is to own your spot
project what's true and don't believe what's not
instead of snatchin' hats when you're not that stealth
walk up and introduce yourself
could've nipped it in the bud 8 months ago
but instead - i don't even know you, yo

i wish i had somewhere else to go
but this is my home through heat, sleet and snow
the only place i'm going is on the road
so better get together and work on your code
a code of ethics so that noone gets hurt
when everyone's messy, playin' out in the dirt
it needs to cover locals, not just bitches on the road
and atleast two people who respect the code

namaste from kid and play
we cain't help it  - we was born this way

aurean hymn to dionysus

come to me

i am on my knees

lead me to the vine

take me to your ivy palace

where the water tastes like wine

in ecstasy

i shriek in pain

i writhe as i call out your name

such a fine thread there is

twixt ecstasy and this

no matter that you rip my flesh

your face doth give me bliss

wipe your lips

wet your hair

fall upon me through the air

i remember ariadne 

and her childless death

ripped of immortality

by you, who sped her breath

i know i'll always mortal be

but let your horror set me free

i feel the light

see only dark

the heat will burn my ice

i long for one rebirth from you

the god who was born thrice

let them tear me and devour

only give me one last hour

you will be flesh to my bone

i become flower to thy rod

i wrap myself about your limbs

and beg for you to be my god

the only favor i shall ask of thee

is to bear the child you will take from me

i shall, suppliant

descend to fire below

with your face burned into my heart

but first you must come

take me down

and then the submission start

and as i drown

upon the shore

i shall sing your praise 

forevermore

have i told you lately that i love you?

this morning started as late as yesterday was long, but i woke up in a fantastic mood - excited about the tasks of the day.  i decided that i was in such a good mood, that i was willing to risk it by attempting to contact my mother again.  our last conversation included the declaration from her that while she really hoped to spend some time with joshua soon, she didn't really want to see me.  she said she was just ready to give up.  she claimed that family members were concerned about me and implied that they follow me on facebook and write her asking about my life.  i find it curious that all these people are concerned yet none of them bother to contact me.  i'm not sure if my family is just a bunch of crazy stalkers or my mother is a lying fruit bat.  god bless her broken heart.

she also told me she wished i would try medication, so that i could get along better with my teenager (he is a teenager) and my employers (most of whom have been just as certifiable as i am) and her, of course.  because medication works so well for her.  she's anxiety ridden to the point that she's had a headache for the last 5 months.  i don't want to take one pill to get along, then another to sleep, then another for the mess in my stomach that the first two pills are causing.  i've watched countless people choose or be put upon that path and i've NEVER seen it work long term.  i know NOONE who is happier or wealthier or more anything than they were before a year or ten years of prescription drugs.  i have watched alot of people become very ill after many years and some people get crazier when it comes time to ween off the crap.  i had one family member that, after an amazing life 50+ years long which included a beautiful wife and four great kids, was put on anti-depressants for the first time in his life just over a year ago.  less than a month later he hung himself.  i'm not taking meds, mom.  you must accept that. 

in the near future, medicinal marijuana will be available and you'll finally start to see and hear testimonials to natural self-medication.  as needed.  right now, i'm going to stick with holy basil, meditation and screaming bloody murder when the urge strikes me.  i will continue to let out my rage in the healthiest ways i know how and process the memories as they come, but i will not numb my mind to make the process more bearable.  while i would love some emotional support, i can handle it.  i firmly believe the universe doesn't deliver anything we can't handle by our own evolutionary powers, until it's time to give up the ghost and get back to the real work on the other side.  i also believe every death holds it's purpose, which means that last task we couldn't handle was designed with just as divine a purpose as every challenge that stretches and shapes us into our authentic selves while we are alive.

so.... at the end of that conversation i told her that she was welcome to give up on me but that i would continue, every day, to open my heart to her and hope that our relationship would eventually heal.  i told her i would try again tomorrow.  the next day i called her.  and the next day i called her.  and then today, after a week struggling not to be depressed that she wasn't making any attempt to contact me via phone or email, i called again.  she answered.

she proceeded to tell me that she was disgusted by me and that my writing was pure filth.  that she didn't want to talk to me or for me to write to her and that while she would really like to talk to joshua and to see him she could not look at me.  wow.  the only phrase she brought up was from a facebook note where i expressed a fantasy of sodomizing my ex-husband with a dildo.  i didn't use the word rape and you couldn't convince me he wouldn't enjoy it on some level.  sick, vile pedophile that i presume him to be.  she said i needed to censor myself to protect my family.  where was she when i was campaigning against censorship with ian on my hip?  i was reminded of when she saw my first tattoo, japanese symbol for the word "poetry" and no bigger than a quarter, and proclaimed that "only sailors and whores get tattoos".  i wish i'd been clever enough to shout back that i wasn't ever going to join the navy.  instead i just laughed and walked away.  i was eighteen and she'd just ripped a band-aid off my arm in front of my friends.  it was, in fact, comical.

i pray to the powers of the universe that my mother can have some sort of awakening.  something that allows her to see my mental health issues as real concrete results of my childhood abuse.  that she can understand that the things i do and the way i handle things is not unique, or even crazy, but common among the faction of humanity that has experienced the same or similar experiences that i had while in her care.  i pray that she will see that i do accept my part, that i daily take responsibility for my children and the way my process and lack of skills has affected them.  that i take responsibility for breaking the chains.  i pray that she will realize writing about bending someone over is healthier than bending someone over against their will - or sometimes even with their consent, if they give it out of fear or obligation.  i wish she could see how hard i have worked to stop spreading the poison i was programmed to spew.  i wish she could understand how difficult it is to reprogram trauma and to break the generational chains of abuse; to end the domino effect that victims can perpetrate in their communities.  i wish she would hold me and nurture me and encourage me.  i wish she would tell me with conviction that everything is going to be okay.  i wish she could take responsibility for her part in this play.


The following is taken from a website for a women's treatment center (www.wiit.com):

The women who come to WIIT for incorporation therapy are often very frightened by what is going on inside themselves. They are depressed, angry, hurt, confused. They suffer from anxiety and panic attacks, they have trouble sleeping, they see pictures or hear voices, they make unhealthy relationship choices, their marriages or families are in trouble. Some have been involved with drugs, alcohol, sexual acting out, bingeing/purging, compulsive spending, etc. Most are bothered by suicidal thoughts or feel very tired of life.

What is dissociation?
Dissociation is a gift that everybody has to help them survive overwhelming events. It is a separation of the body and mind which occurs as a result of trauma... the body is trapped in the traumatic event, but the mind escapes. This is a highly developed survival skill which is recognizable from outside the victim by a fixed gaze with a slow or non-response to external stimuli or a marked change in mood, affect, and/or behavior.
 
What is "Incorporation Therapy?"
Incorporation Therapy is a proactive approach to the stabilization of the internal crisis and chaos that is the hallmark of those suffering from Dissociative Disorders. The approach is two pronged. These are very intelligent and creative people. It is their very intelligence and creativity that allowed them to "escape within themselves" when they were small and physically defenseless. So there is a strong didactic component to the program which helps them to understand how and why they got the way they are. This accomplishes a number of things. To begin with it helps them to begin to realize that they are not "crazy" and that they might possibly be able to get well. It also starts to take some of the terror out of their experiences and frees them to begin to talk about what's really going on inside them. At that point they can begin to learn some techniques to help them stay grounded and present... On the other hand, since these women have relied so heavily on their cognitive system for survival, it is best to work with them therapeutically from an emotional approach. Incorporation therapy focuses on the loss of self in the trauma episode. Therefore, the identification, acceptance and forgiveness of self are important if the patient is to gain a healthy internal relationship with self... In the final stage, Incorporation therapy is a patient driven revisiting technique that allows an individual to recover what they had lost during a traumatic event and to resolve the emotional component connected to a memory of traumatic loss.


i include this excerpt, as opposed to just linking to the website, because i think this passage explains alot, in layman's terms, about the experience i've had.  in addition, it discusses some of the modalities i've received in the last eight years, as well as the type of self-therapy that i engage in daily.  i am fully aware that i have a dissociative order to contend with.  i started leaving my body at a terrifically young age.  i can't be exactly sure but i believe by age three or four.  several of my therapists have said since the first incident.  it was explained to me that because i was so young - only a few months old - i had likely not lost the skill yet of astral projection.  it is one of the gifts typically unlearned as we are experientially integrated deeper into the physical plane.


this is their treatment philosophy at WIIT:

We Help Women Reclaim Their Lives. It is our belief that while the women we treat are suffering and in many ways have become dysfunctional, they are strong, intelligent and creative. Our goal is to help our patients recognize and experience their strengths and talents, which up until now have been invested in a survival effort which often relates back to childhood. We then focus on teaching them how to redirect their strengths and talents towards reclaiming themselves and building their lives.

We Foster a Positive Atmosphere. Atmosphere is very important to our program. Our women's unit is small and maintained separately from the rest of the hospital. The unit is not run in a strictly traditional manner. All of our patients are voluntary; there are no restraints used and there is no time out or isolation room. We treat the results of trauma in women: Depression, grief, loss, compulsive behaviors, self harm, Dissociative Disorders and PTSD. We support recovery and 12 step involvement for those with addiction or eating disorder problems, but we do not do primary treatment in those areas. We do not initiate abreactive work on the unit. We do not allow acting out or self destructive behavior. This is accomplished by making our standards known and having the patients contract with us regarding their behavior. The peer experience on the unit is positive. The grouping with other motivated women with similar problems helps them to "share the secret(s)."


i include this one on the off chance that my mother might actually read it and it will offer some sort of focus on how to understand me and my healing process enough to desire a relationship with me.  that it might encourage her to learn something about my issues and how professionals recommend dealing with them, instead of just wishing i could wiggle my nose and move forward, without another thought of the past.  my favorite statement on the website is "our goal is to help our patients recognize and experience their strengths and talents, which up until now have been invested in a survival effort which often relates back to childhood".  i wish she could recognize my strengths and talents and understand that so much of my mental and physical energy has been spent in an effort to survive. 

she would like me to suppress, as i did most of my life, as opposed to purging and healing.  the reality is i will no longer suppress, because suppression of toxicity causes dis.ease.  plain and simple.  i am healthy and intend to stay that way by continuing to address my mental health as needed.  it has been nine years since what i refer to as active recovery began and twenty-three years since the first time she and my father drove me to a therapist against my will and addressing my mental health is still a daily requirement.  i use the term active recovery because anything i did before my source memories surfaced wasn't actively addressing my real problems.  talking about rape and divorce and bad relationships was never going to heal me from childhood sexual abuse if i couldn't acknowledge that abuse as the root of all the other problems.  daily self-care is worth the time it takes to not use prescription drugs and continue to get healthier every day while experiencing the full range of emotions i was designed to experience.  an hour or five - it is worth every minute to me. 

someday i hope my mother can respect that.  someday i hope she will be able to encourage me along the path that i pave and occasionally even visit me and walk with me there.  someday i hope she will realize that mine is a beautiful life with nothing to be afraid of.  someday i hope she will find her way back to the source of unconditional love.  and i know it's a long shot, but someday perhaps she will even find something about me that fosters respect.  on this day, i respect myself and that's all i have control of.  i do so love this life.  enough that even in times of little companionship and even less compassion i will march on.  left.  right.  left, right, left.  breathe.  strut.  breathe, strut, breathe.

mad men and watchdogs

lurking in the shadows is the man with vodka on his breath
i hope his careless lies don't deliver his sudden death
like drunk drivers in the 70's with kids playing in the floorboards
your ignorance is no less dangerous than women keeping scoreboards

your bark was completely absent and now so is your face
i hope you enjoyed your 15 of fame 'cause you aren't welcome back in this place
you could have raised another one, maybe a daughter called destiny
but i won't do it again alone, letting you take the rest of me

you think you and chance will be close after his moms done raising him
chance knows his own reality and that you just drift while she can swim
your lies and deceit build your house of pain
your denial of me drives you insane
i somehow felt safe when you said my name
never crossed my mind i was only a game

i know that i am a lone bitch still searching for my pack
i believe you are a coward and have no defined skills of attack
your safety is just an illusion and your heart is bound in fright
i pray that you will find someone to get you through the night

i will accept my own tragic gullibility and be thankful for the two weeks of bliss
i will forget the month of loneliness and attempt only to remember your kiss
i have to assume all your words were lies but i know what i felt was the truth
i forgive you your absence and childish fear
you forgive the death of our youth

i know that when i bark, it is only a taste of my bite
i watch as much as three eyes can with vision that lights up the night
if you ever come near me again my eye teeth will make you bleed
you will then know the pain that she will feel as i cast out your seed