Salivating Drops of Poison

On the move again, although, I must say this last stop was eventful, challenging, and oh so fulfilling.

One thing that shall stay seared in my mind is knowing the hearts of many are not pure. I should know that by now, after all my parents drilled it into my brain. I ignored them for the longest time. I ignored it until I was the target of those my parents warned me of. Their tongues continue wag, and I have to laugh.

Still, even after seeing the evilness, and gossipy nature first hand, and clicking the block option on all of my sites, my phone and email, I still believed most people were inherently good.

After all I've been through, seen, and heard, I see, or want to see, the good in people, most of them anyway.

After I moved into this last place, within a day, the entire neighborhood knew all about my life. Much of it was news to me, as a lot of it has been over the last two years.

The knives that some attempted to plunge into my back, were actually amusing. The Diva learned a lesson: catch the knife, sincerely smile, and hand it back. I've known for awhile that those that have no life seem to like to live through mine, and that's ok. Mine is a roller coaster of sorts, and as they say, "truth is stranger than fiction."

Saturday, as we load the truck for the next phase, I shall sincerely smile, hand the knife that was intended for placement between my lat muscles, back to the one that tried to insert it. I've stayed quiet for months. I saw through the plan, the evilness, and the blackness, that was intended for me when we first met. Saturday will be the perfect time the reveal to this keeper of knives, and a salivating tongue, I knew her intentions from our first meeting.

See, there is a difference between mistakes and plans carefully laid to harm another.

I believe I should be wearing my Go Pro when I hand back the knife, covered with the poison of a wagging tongue, and a gossiping storyteller. I'll smile sincerely, and tell her thank you for teaching me I have an unbreakable bond.

Wishing you a good night.

xoxo

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The Call

I'd seen the number come up on my phone. Even though it began with an 877 prefix I knew who it was.

I stared at the phone for several long seconds before answering. The automated voice prompted me to push one to accept the call, the collect call, a call from the jail,  a call from my son with autism.

I was present when he was born, I watched as his 15 yr old birth mother cried in agony as he was taken from her arms and placed into mine. That was nearly 22 years ago.

His voice was weak, scared, and trembling. I had been searching for weeks for my child, the one that's lived, by choice,  on the streets for close to three years. I'd even found a site that is a data base for unidentified bodies. I fearfully studied each drawing, and every marking on the bodies they held. I was afraid, I knew he had no ID, no cell phone, and I had a new number that he didn't have. No one would be able to contact any of his family members if something happened to him.

Then I searched the jails, and finally I found where he was being held. I went through miles of red tape to get my phone number to my child. The next day he called. My heart broke. I called the attorney, that really didn't give a shit, I called the mental health facilitator trying to explain my son's mental conditions, I tried everything to explain how to approach him, how he could react, how fragile he could be one minute, and how destructive the next. I could find no one that would/could help.

I heard the fear in his voice tonight. He goes before a judge tomorrow afternoon. Most likely he'll be held 20 days, far too many for a young man with his mindset, and much too long for his mom. My only consolation is that he has a bed, food, and isn't in the weather.

As I spoke with him, I know his heart is sincere, he wants to do well, he wants to succeed, but with his emotional state that's difficult for him to achieve.

I wanted to hold him in my arms, I wanted to dry his tears, I wanted to make everything ok, but reality tells me something entirely different. My greatest fear for my son is that he's destined to live on the streets, arrested time after time, and perhaps deciding it may be easier for him to live in jail than in society.

How, exactly, does a parent walk that fine line? The line of knowing what is right, or going with our hearts? He was dealt a hand of cards he didn't ask for, and for that his future is unsure.

A person on the street would think my son is an incredible boy, and he is, but there's another side they know nothing about.

Tonight my heart cries. It cries for my son's fear. It cries for his future. It cries because I know there's not a single thing I can do to change things. I can't bear to imagine him in a cell, caged as an animal, while at the same time I firmly believe if he is guilty of something he needs to pay the consequences.

I'm not quite sure how either of us will sleep tonight knowing tomorrow he goes before a judge, that knows nothing of his disabilities, and what his decision will be.

Tonight he and I will both have tears welling in our eyes and droplets running down our cheeks. They will continue until he stands in front of a man tomorrow that hasn't a clue as to my son's disabilities.

And then my phone will ring once more.

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He's a Pychopath, Obsessed, And Vicious

Everyone is familiar with the phrase, "sex, drugs and rock and roll." Let's add a beautiful woman, obsession, stalking, and stripping to the mix. What exactly goes through the mind of a psychopathic stalker? What about the woman that is the subject of such a vicious person?

The answer to that question just might be found in the film I'm going to tell you about. The Director of Photography we used to film the official music video for "I Found A Better Way," performed by Hammerz Down and written by Dave Kennedy, is Andre Khrul, producer for Vicious. 

Andre and I met awhile back and became friends. His talent overwhelms me. His passion for his job is amazing. Watching his eyes light up when he speaks of his work is inspiring.

I'm writing for him. I'm asking for your help, whether investing ( a healthy 120% return on your investment when the film sells is nothing to sneeze about), spreading the news, or encouraging comments to springboard him. I have to say, of all the film makers I've met, Andre is the most down to earth of any of them hands down.

They've, his film-partner Jason Rosenblatt, and he have invested everything they have into this film. They're at the finish line, they only need $8,000 more to pay for the audio mix, scoring, festival submissions, and posters. The distributor for the film has helped in distributing over 42 titles including The Expendables. Pretty impressive right?

If I had the money I'd invest it all, but I don't, and that's another series, volumes possibly, of posts. So I'm asking you. Oh, and something way cool, anyone that invests at least $3000.00 will be listed in the credits as a producer.

Here's a brief description of the content. It's a psychological thriller/drama about an "exotic dancer" and a psychopath on a mission to stop the woman from stripping, even at the cost of murder, if that's what it takes to get his point across. The question is, can anything, or anyone, stop him?

Throw in a sure to sell mix of murder, exotic dancing, rock and roll, drama and psychological suspense, not only is this film going to entertain, but will most certainly be a warning for those seeking the seductiveness of "exotic dancing" as a career choice.

By the way, remember Jason Richter from Free Willy? He's in the movie as well.

Maybe I can get him to throw in an autographed picture?

INVEST!

Shoot Andre an email so you can be in on the action!

Anxiously awaiting,

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Where I Was

Eight years ago the words that follow cascaded from my core, through my finger tips and dripped onto the keyboard in mere minutes.

They aptly conveyed my wishes, and my desires, for my future at that time. So much has happened since that night when my room was lit only by a dimly burning candle and the glowing screen of my computer. In the darkness my mind was filled with thoughts no one should have to endure. Thoughts unimaginable to many, and sought by others.

I feel the need to share this, and probably a few more of my darker pieces, with you to accurately portray my mindset at the time, and how far I have come since those days of fear, frustration, and torment I experienced in my depth of my being. 

My path since then has been rocky to say the least, confusing, and uncertain as to where I would end, or perhaps begin.

My words, my feelings, and my desires of that night in 2007 are below.

Sea Turtles

The water was so clear, so aqua, so warm, so salty.

I dove under to swim with the great and majestic sea turtles.

I could feel my hair flowing behind me and the water rushing over every inch of my body

I dove even deeper following after the elusive, graceful creatures

Their effortless movement was mesmerizing. Their glances at me were all knowing

I was soon gliding behind them

They were just beyond my grasp. I knew I would soon be with them if I could just make it a little longer.

My world was moving further away and I was moving closer to theirs

I had to breathe, I could wait no longer

I took the salty water deep into my soul

It was warm. It was refreshing. It was liberating.

It permeated every crevice of my lungs and circulated throughout my body.

It filled me completely. I continued my journey and continued to take in the clear sea water

It was so easy, so natural, so welcome

Suddenly my speed increased and I found myself in the midst of the group

They had opened a portal to allow me in and quickly surrounded me

I was now one with them, one with the sea and one with the turtles.

There would be no return from this new and mysterious world.

There were reefs to discover and waters to navigate

My freedom was complete. My prayers had been answered. I would not return.

My home would be the sea, and my family the graceful shelled creatures that had in their wisdom coaxed me to follow.

Stronger today than then, 

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Hey Strangers!

It's been a long, long, time since I've written regularly, and I so miss the cathartic effect it has on me. Many times when I go to write I might have a vague idea of what I'm seeking to convey, or a nagging question in my gut that is answered by the end of my post. My writing was part of my therapy, part of trying to understand my chaotic world.

I've had many, many, emails asking where I've gone, what's been happening, and if I'm still living. Well, here I am. Fresh out of the shower, no contacts, no make up, but I did blow dry my hair, so give me a little break will ya? You can still tell it's me, see the Texas flag and I am wearing a Harley shirt. Same girl, just a year older.

Where have I been you ask? Well, it's been quite the eventful year. Approximately one week before my 27th wedding anniversary my marriage officially ended. I've made three moves, and am about to make another one. 

Here I sit, at 53 years of age, having only worked from home part time, attempting to decipher the uncharted paths before me. I'm wondering what in the hell I'm going to do. It's been anything but smooth, but each day brings more peace. There's much more healing to work through and I need to learn to look at the world with fresh eyes. I need to gain a feeling of worthiness, and empowerment. 

For years I have been in therapy, and treatment, for bipolar disorder, type 2, generalized anxiety disorder, and panic attacks. I've dealt with trauma after trauma since my grandson died in 2004. Many of you have been through the ups and downs I've endured in my life. It was a life filled with uncertainty in everything that surrounded me. I sought solace, and escape, from the world, from life, from everyone, and everything, and I went about it in the wrong way. 

The blog I began to help others gain the confidence to take control of their world, and not allow it to control them, ended up being some of the best therapy I could have ever asked for. You, yes you, have helped me see myself through new eyes. However, being in the eye of a storm is not conducive for writing logically, so I had no choice but to stop. 

For years I ran. I wasn't sure from what, but the running continued until recently. I was running from demons I couldn't, wouldn't, see. They were creatures my doctors tried, year after year, to get me to realize for myself. They hoped my eyes would be opened and my marathon would stop. I could then catch my breath, see my world differently, and deal with the monsters I had buried deep within my soul. Ones that were too painful to face. They finally convinced me, although BD2 is a piece of the puzzle, "severe PTSD" is the major piece and I need to deal with fitting into my therapy, into my life, and into my treatment.  

When I was down you encouraged me. When I wrote something that to me was normal I would get tons of emails and messages thanking me for saying, admitting, what others hadn't, or couldn't admit themselves. They told me they had no idea they weren't alone in their feelings. Those messages were life savers for me. The people that wrote me helped unseal my eyes. They helped me see that the way I was experiencing the world wasn't the norm, it was outside of the lines. I've never been an "in the box" person, and that's ok, but you all have helped me realize that I wasn't seeing things correctly myself. I'll never fit into others preconceived notions of how a person should be, I'll always have an adventurous spirit, but now I can work on seeing the correct way of living in technicolor. 

Yes I have tattoos, yes I ride a Harley, yes I have piercings, yes I'm outgoing and friendly, and you know what? That's ok. If people have a problem with those parts of me, it's their problem not mine, and that's ok. 

I'll be writing of many of those monsters. I need to confront them, get them out, give them a name, and rid them from my life. I also need to be respectful of others, and their feelings, while being transparent enough to, hopefully, help others to avoid the same rolling boulders my family and I have endured. 

xoxoxoxo

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