I want to add in a completely different thought that:
If you read my poem, and it disturbed you- I was going through a rough patch in the stages of dealing with everything.
I'm on my own, in a new place, working by myself, and my stable rotation of friends seems to be changing a bit because people are getting into relationships all around me. It leads me to fall back on myself in moments of weakness...
And we all know I blog more in moments of weakness because writing out my thoughts is therapy for me. I never found a better way to self soothe. Perhaps I'll ask Joanne about that next time I'm there.
Anyway- my new place is amazing, I'm adjusting, but I'm not sleeping well at all even with the pills (both Xanax, and ambien.) However, I absolutely ADORE my new roomates and the set up we have.
I'm stoked to be going to California, the details have been arranged and set in motion. (Business contacts! Cross your fingers for me!)
I ate some amazing Greek food last night, and threw a party at my place that ran til 4am yesterday.
The band I manage is holding their second cd release at the High Dive in June, and now that we have that set in place I'll be working on setting up their northern tour for Summer. I guess I get to find out what kind of a negotiator I can be. Last night's party was sort of a listening party, and I got some great feedback. :) I'm excited for this part, as I've never done it before. I imagine, like the rest, I'll find it exciting and new, and manage somehow.
Still have 3 dates left to book at different venues for April, even though I won't be able to oversee a week's worth of them.
I started writing a new song yesterday, and something came through that hasn't really happened for me ever: my dark chords in my verses turn downright positive in the choruses. I want to write of something other than heartache. I'm tired of doing the same old thing. (Thanks to one of my Pig N Whistle family members for being able to open my eyes to some things.)
And, weirdly, I'm drinking a Merlot tonight instead of a Reisling.
Anyway. That's it. Going back to my littile idiotic life. :)
Monday, March 28, 2011
S.L.A.A
It's hard to imagine love being a disease, but in essence, it can be.
An aquaintence of mine began waxing on the reasons he's remaining celibate through April. Frankly at first I was curious as to why this person was revealing all of, what you assume to be private information. But as his (long winded) conversation rolled on he continually used the phrases "do you understand what I'm saying?" and "that's not crazy, right?"
I obliged, but realized what he was seeking from me was validation, almost like he wanted my permission his actions were ok. Why did he care about my opinion so already?
About thirty minutes into his almost one sided chat I started paying attention and realized what I was speaking to was another un-self aware sex addict. Now, I don't have his sexual history to go off of, but his reasons, his need to explain his actions and seek understanding and approval, and his main excuse of "work is stressful and I take it out in my sex life and it increasingly has bad consequences" were all code for: Do I need to get help, or is my celebacy going to be enough?
I guess sometimes when your shit gets so bad, you are willing to share it with an almost total stranger. So I listened, I got irritated, then I listened harder. When he finally more or less asked me what I thought he should do, or if his fast was wise, I told him that the celebacy without realizing the behavior for why he was becoming celebate to begin with was useless. He needed real time for self reflection, therapy, and likely meetings. He asked if I'd ever attended and I told him I had.
I gave him the very basics (as I'm not willing to share all the details with anyone at this point) as to how I decided I should try it, what I got out of it, how long I went for and why I stopped. I think more than anything he was relieved to hear someone say "you're not crazy."
I think my letting him ramble was simply something he needed, and others had either dismissed the conversation (likely his "bros") or shushed him so he never got the validation he was seeking.
I guess the only real thing I took away from the meetings was that I did in fact have a problem with love, which translated into a problem with sex. But when I realized I couldn't get anything more sitting around in that enviornment, hashing out the beginnings of a fledgling understanding, I opted to stop.
When my relationship ended I went into full on withdrawls.
Ha.
It seems so stupid, really.
I did everything I could to make "my drug" feel it was ok to stay in touch, because even if I couldn't have him in an intimate sense anymore, going cold turkey off of something that intense is pure, unadulterated torture.
And so I fell. I fell for a long time...
I fell into a few desperate phonecalls. I fell into a complete nervous system failure that led my lupus to flare up, which landed me in the hospital. I went home and fell into a person I no longer knew. I didn't think there was anything worse. In fact, I knew there wasn't. I had made myself sick. I do not blame anyone but myself. I want to make that perfectly clear.
My next phonecall was for help. 2 weeks later I was sitting on a couch telling someone and an intern my life story, and how my ass had landed on that couch to begin with. As in 95% of women in recovery, part of my story began with sexual abuse. Eventually the intern excused herself as I watched tears well in her eyes listening to my story. I wondered how fucked up I really was. I wondered if there really any help anyone could offer, or if I would end up another statistic. I wondered how long it would be until I would feel like myself again.
Meanwhile I found my next "fixation." Dating was not on my agenda, nor was having any physical connection of any kind with anyone. I knew it could easily make me sick, or draw out my old demons, and in fact, it eventually did. But luckily(sarcastically) he was a predator. Another addict. He was self aware. He was also a complete asshole. Even though he knew what he was capable of, he was not remorseful, nor did he want help. Eventually he ended our friendship with the words "I think you're just too nice for me."
Point in fact, I definetely was.
I was sickened at the fact he had drawn me in so quickly. Was that something I did too? Did he see too much of himself in me? Longing for that connection? Wanting to confirm that connection in the most basic ways?
By stopping the train early, by knowing now how easily a train like that could break me, I had learned something. I began to realize I was learning quickly.
Therapy became my meeting, only in these meetings I had feedback. I was taught the beginnings of making boundaries. The boundaries that had never been set in motion, not because I didn't respect myself enough, but because I was afraid having boundaries would make people leave me.
Then she said the thing that resonates with me, I may never forget: "If everyone leaves anyway, why not tell them exactly how you feel?"
As in maybe my not having boundaries made it easy for me to be walked on. (Shit, yeah. I know I've been a doormat. I KNOW it's not sexy. I didn't know how to change it.)
People leave people they don't respect. My niceness in an effort to never hurt anyone, lest they pushed away sooner, was in my way.
So I began to slowly change my behaviors, and try out this new approach. I wasn't crazy about it. Some people in my life went away. People that were used to the old me.
I focused on creating what is now "Sparrow Music." When I would meet people it was solely for business contacts. It made things clear in my mind, and I needed clear.
When someone would cross my path that sparked an interest I began a real, serious assesment of whether or not that person would be good for me. I always landed on the answer 'no' and moved on. I refused to become attached.
Even though I doubt I will ever fully be able to kick the habit, as love is such a crazy amazing feeling when everything is going right, I am able to follow my brain down that path now, and not my heart, my addiction, or lust. It doesn't mean I have to abstain forever. It just means for now, I'm either not ready or I am finally learning quickly what things will be more healthy in a relationship for me. I am also following the rules that are the groundwork for finding people that aren't that interested in me... And not getting attached, and moving on, back to work, and back to my life.
I don't think anyone who hasn't been through the horror of sexual abuse can fully understand what it does to a female (or in the asshole's case, a male- let me clarify while I empathize, I do not condone he continues with the behavior created, and I hope for his sake and anyone who crosses his path that he eventually gets some fucking therapy).
But while the damage is done, and getting people to understand and accept my shit is an uphill battle, I hope someday that there is someone out there for me who will love all of me, even the broken parts. Who can listen to me talk, pull the hair from my face and look me in the eyes as I divulge my most secret self, and accept that while love can be dangerous, I am willing to take that chance on him.
It doesn't always have to be romanticide. I just have to make some behavioral adjustments, admit to myself honestly whether what I'm doing is addictive behavior, and take action in either direction. (Though the leaving may be painful, and seemingly impossible, I have to keep my network of friends strong, and my work to fall back on.)
I hope my aquaintence finds exactly what he's looking for, but he's going to have to admit to himself what that is first.
I hope I find what I'm looking for too, but only when I'm ready enough to hold onto it. When it's meant to be. When the universe finally gives my heart a safe place to rest for a time, and for the first time ever, it completely does.
An aquaintence of mine began waxing on the reasons he's remaining celibate through April. Frankly at first I was curious as to why this person was revealing all of, what you assume to be private information. But as his (long winded) conversation rolled on he continually used the phrases "do you understand what I'm saying?" and "that's not crazy, right?"
I obliged, but realized what he was seeking from me was validation, almost like he wanted my permission his actions were ok. Why did he care about my opinion so already?
About thirty minutes into his almost one sided chat I started paying attention and realized what I was speaking to was another un-self aware sex addict. Now, I don't have his sexual history to go off of, but his reasons, his need to explain his actions and seek understanding and approval, and his main excuse of "work is stressful and I take it out in my sex life and it increasingly has bad consequences" were all code for: Do I need to get help, or is my celebacy going to be enough?
I guess sometimes when your shit gets so bad, you are willing to share it with an almost total stranger. So I listened, I got irritated, then I listened harder. When he finally more or less asked me what I thought he should do, or if his fast was wise, I told him that the celebacy without realizing the behavior for why he was becoming celebate to begin with was useless. He needed real time for self reflection, therapy, and likely meetings. He asked if I'd ever attended and I told him I had.
I gave him the very basics (as I'm not willing to share all the details with anyone at this point) as to how I decided I should try it, what I got out of it, how long I went for and why I stopped. I think more than anything he was relieved to hear someone say "you're not crazy."
I think my letting him ramble was simply something he needed, and others had either dismissed the conversation (likely his "bros") or shushed him so he never got the validation he was seeking.
I guess the only real thing I took away from the meetings was that I did in fact have a problem with love, which translated into a problem with sex. But when I realized I couldn't get anything more sitting around in that enviornment, hashing out the beginnings of a fledgling understanding, I opted to stop.
When my relationship ended I went into full on withdrawls.
Ha.
It seems so stupid, really.
I did everything I could to make "my drug" feel it was ok to stay in touch, because even if I couldn't have him in an intimate sense anymore, going cold turkey off of something that intense is pure, unadulterated torture.
And so I fell. I fell for a long time...
I fell into a few desperate phonecalls. I fell into a complete nervous system failure that led my lupus to flare up, which landed me in the hospital. I went home and fell into a person I no longer knew. I didn't think there was anything worse. In fact, I knew there wasn't. I had made myself sick. I do not blame anyone but myself. I want to make that perfectly clear.
My next phonecall was for help. 2 weeks later I was sitting on a couch telling someone and an intern my life story, and how my ass had landed on that couch to begin with. As in 95% of women in recovery, part of my story began with sexual abuse. Eventually the intern excused herself as I watched tears well in her eyes listening to my story. I wondered how fucked up I really was. I wondered if there really any help anyone could offer, or if I would end up another statistic. I wondered how long it would be until I would feel like myself again.
Meanwhile I found my next "fixation." Dating was not on my agenda, nor was having any physical connection of any kind with anyone. I knew it could easily make me sick, or draw out my old demons, and in fact, it eventually did. But luckily(sarcastically) he was a predator. Another addict. He was self aware. He was also a complete asshole. Even though he knew what he was capable of, he was not remorseful, nor did he want help. Eventually he ended our friendship with the words "I think you're just too nice for me."
Point in fact, I definetely was.
I was sickened at the fact he had drawn me in so quickly. Was that something I did too? Did he see too much of himself in me? Longing for that connection? Wanting to confirm that connection in the most basic ways?
By stopping the train early, by knowing now how easily a train like that could break me, I had learned something. I began to realize I was learning quickly.
Therapy became my meeting, only in these meetings I had feedback. I was taught the beginnings of making boundaries. The boundaries that had never been set in motion, not because I didn't respect myself enough, but because I was afraid having boundaries would make people leave me.
Then she said the thing that resonates with me, I may never forget: "If everyone leaves anyway, why not tell them exactly how you feel?"
As in maybe my not having boundaries made it easy for me to be walked on. (Shit, yeah. I know I've been a doormat. I KNOW it's not sexy. I didn't know how to change it.)
People leave people they don't respect. My niceness in an effort to never hurt anyone, lest they pushed away sooner, was in my way.
So I began to slowly change my behaviors, and try out this new approach. I wasn't crazy about it. Some people in my life went away. People that were used to the old me.
I focused on creating what is now "Sparrow Music." When I would meet people it was solely for business contacts. It made things clear in my mind, and I needed clear.
When someone would cross my path that sparked an interest I began a real, serious assesment of whether or not that person would be good for me. I always landed on the answer 'no' and moved on. I refused to become attached.
Even though I doubt I will ever fully be able to kick the habit, as love is such a crazy amazing feeling when everything is going right, I am able to follow my brain down that path now, and not my heart, my addiction, or lust. It doesn't mean I have to abstain forever. It just means for now, I'm either not ready or I am finally learning quickly what things will be more healthy in a relationship for me. I am also following the rules that are the groundwork for finding people that aren't that interested in me... And not getting attached, and moving on, back to work, and back to my life.
I don't think anyone who hasn't been through the horror of sexual abuse can fully understand what it does to a female (or in the asshole's case, a male- let me clarify while I empathize, I do not condone he continues with the behavior created, and I hope for his sake and anyone who crosses his path that he eventually gets some fucking therapy).
But while the damage is done, and getting people to understand and accept my shit is an uphill battle, I hope someday that there is someone out there for me who will love all of me, even the broken parts. Who can listen to me talk, pull the hair from my face and look me in the eyes as I divulge my most secret self, and accept that while love can be dangerous, I am willing to take that chance on him.
It doesn't always have to be romanticide. I just have to make some behavioral adjustments, admit to myself honestly whether what I'm doing is addictive behavior, and take action in either direction. (Though the leaving may be painful, and seemingly impossible, I have to keep my network of friends strong, and my work to fall back on.)
I hope my aquaintence finds exactly what he's looking for, but he's going to have to admit to himself what that is first.
I hope I find what I'm looking for too, but only when I'm ready enough to hold onto it. When it's meant to be. When the universe finally gives my heart a safe place to rest for a time, and for the first time ever, it completely does.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
GN Love
So...
I moved. :D
And my new place is amazing. Separate entrance. 2 years old.
And, as a cruel joke, I met the perfect third for Johnny and I tonight. Abi. She's beautiful. She's not tall blond or skinny, but she is average height, beautiful build, and gorgeous face. I know Johnny would have dug her. Seriously. As far as *that* was concerned. Damn, sometimes you wish you could just offer shit. No strings attached.
Anyway, life is what it is.
Tomorrow I'm putting up black out shades. I have to go to Target to buy a large mirror, and I have my open mic. Abi's coming. I'm happy to be playing some tunes again. And in 3 weeks I should have a new tune. I'm working on a piano cover of 'Doll Parts' by Hole.
Anyway I'm SO HAPPY to be in my new place. My life so far is... Adventurous. Met the roomies, played some music, ventured to a fairly new spot. Worked a few good hours this morning, planned an bill for one of my bars for April. Rehearsed for my open mic tomorrow. Now I'm watching Dexter and getting ready for pills.
So far, so good.
Let's hope it doesn't change.
For now anyway.
I wish people could see me for who I am now.
Who is the girl watching Dexter and focusing on work tomorrow.
*yawns to you*
Gooodnight love
I moved. :D
And my new place is amazing. Separate entrance. 2 years old.
And, as a cruel joke, I met the perfect third for Johnny and I tonight. Abi. She's beautiful. She's not tall blond or skinny, but she is average height, beautiful build, and gorgeous face. I know Johnny would have dug her. Seriously. As far as *that* was concerned. Damn, sometimes you wish you could just offer shit. No strings attached.
Anyway, life is what it is.
Tomorrow I'm putting up black out shades. I have to go to Target to buy a large mirror, and I have my open mic. Abi's coming. I'm happy to be playing some tunes again. And in 3 weeks I should have a new tune. I'm working on a piano cover of 'Doll Parts' by Hole.
Anyway I'm SO HAPPY to be in my new place. My life so far is... Adventurous. Met the roomies, played some music, ventured to a fairly new spot. Worked a few good hours this morning, planned an bill for one of my bars for April. Rehearsed for my open mic tomorrow. Now I'm watching Dexter and getting ready for pills.
So far, so good.
Let's hope it doesn't change.
For now anyway.
I wish people could see me for who I am now.
Who is the girl watching Dexter and focusing on work tomorrow.
*yawns to you*
Gooodnight love
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Complex ME
What are the symptoms of Complex PTSD?
The first requirement for the diagnosis is that the individual experienced a prolonged period (months to years) of total control by another. The other criteria are symptoms that tend to result from chronic victimization:
■Alterations in emotional regulation. May include persistent sadness, suicidal thoughts, explosive anger, or inhibited anger.
■Alterations in consciousness. Includes forgetting traumatic events, reliving traumatic events, or having episodes in which one feels detached from one's mental processes or body.
■Changes in self-perception. May include helplessness, shame, guilt, stigma, and a sense of being completely different from other human beings.
■Alterations in how the perpetrator is perceived. Examples include attributing total power to the perpetrator, becoming preoccupied with the relationship to the perpetrator, or preoccupied with revenge.
■Alterations in relations with others. Examples include isolation, distrust, or a repeated search for a rescuer.
■Changes in one's system of meanings. May include a loss of sustaining faith or a sense of hopelessness and despair.
What other difficulties do those with Complex PTSD tend to experience?
■Survivors may avoid thinking and talking about trauma-related topics because the feelings associated with the trauma are often overwhelming.
■Survivors may use alcohol and substance abuse as a way to avoid and numb feelings and thoughts related to the trauma.
■Survivors may also engage in self-mutilation and other forms of self-harm.
Blaming the victim
A person who has been abused repeatedly is sometimes mistaken as someone who has a "weak character." They have been misdiagnosed by mental health providers as having Borderline, Dependent, or Masochistic Personality Disorder. Survivors have been unjustly blamed for the symptoms they experience as a result of victimization. Researchers hope that a new diagnosis will prevent clinicians, the public, and those who suffer from trauma from mistakenly blaming survivors for their symptoms.
Summary
The current PTSD diagnosis often does not capture the severe psychological harm that occurs with prolonged, repeated trauma. For example, long-term trauma may affect a healthy person's self-concept and adaptation. The symptoms of such prolonged trauma have been mistaken for character weakness.
I'm not weak. I'm not without. I was misdiagnosed. I am trying to be better than what happpened to me. I'm trying to move on. I *do* need someone to understand, but I don't think anyone really gets it right now. Maybe they see it, but understanding what happened and why I am what I am, is hard now. I've gone into an isolated state.
I hope hope hope when Monday rolls around, I'm willing to reconnect because I'll be in a new place, and by Tuesday I'll be back to normal for my next open mic.
I'm going back to California in April I've decided. I'm gunna take the 18-25th off.
I also went on a date last Thursday which was good, because it was a benefit I was participating in. I invited a guy called Bret to come along and we had a lot of good conversations. He's extremely liberal which is something I am toally about. I donated $30 and PAWS made over $500 that night. I was very proud. He donated money himself and was attentive all night. Overall it was a good time. I don't know how much potential we have exactly, but it was nice to go out again. I hope I can see him again next week sometime after Wednesday, when everything calms down and I can make a real assesment. Not just of me and getting back to me, but of him and seeing if we're on the same page.
I texted Johnny about giving his stuff and getting my microwave back, but he is being illusive. I guess I'll just take it for what it is. I really wish we could be ammicable. (As in amiche the word for friendly in Italian. Perhaps a more literal definition.)
I'm counting down the days til I am finallly in my beautiful new townhouse. Finally a new chapter. Finally some closure in the best sense that started last year in March when I moved to the U Dist. Finally I start with a new diagnosis and CBT. Finally...
And maybe I'm wishing too much.
But tonight the Reisling was good and the day was spent watching tv and playing video games.
Tomorrow I'm scouting a show at El Corazon. Sunday I move.
It's random, but here's another entry. I will write again soon.
<3
The first requirement for the diagnosis is that the individual experienced a prolonged period (months to years) of total control by another. The other criteria are symptoms that tend to result from chronic victimization:
■Alterations in emotional regulation. May include persistent sadness, suicidal thoughts, explosive anger, or inhibited anger.
■Alterations in consciousness. Includes forgetting traumatic events, reliving traumatic events, or having episodes in which one feels detached from one's mental processes or body.
■Changes in self-perception. May include helplessness, shame, guilt, stigma, and a sense of being completely different from other human beings.
■Alterations in how the perpetrator is perceived. Examples include attributing total power to the perpetrator, becoming preoccupied with the relationship to the perpetrator, or preoccupied with revenge.
■Alterations in relations with others. Examples include isolation, distrust, or a repeated search for a rescuer.
■Changes in one's system of meanings. May include a loss of sustaining faith or a sense of hopelessness and despair.
What other difficulties do those with Complex PTSD tend to experience?
■Survivors may avoid thinking and talking about trauma-related topics because the feelings associated with the trauma are often overwhelming.
■Survivors may use alcohol and substance abuse as a way to avoid and numb feelings and thoughts related to the trauma.
■Survivors may also engage in self-mutilation and other forms of self-harm.
Blaming the victim
A person who has been abused repeatedly is sometimes mistaken as someone who has a "weak character." They have been misdiagnosed by mental health providers as having Borderline, Dependent, or Masochistic Personality Disorder. Survivors have been unjustly blamed for the symptoms they experience as a result of victimization. Researchers hope that a new diagnosis will prevent clinicians, the public, and those who suffer from trauma from mistakenly blaming survivors for their symptoms.
Summary
The current PTSD diagnosis often does not capture the severe psychological harm that occurs with prolonged, repeated trauma. For example, long-term trauma may affect a healthy person's self-concept and adaptation. The symptoms of such prolonged trauma have been mistaken for character weakness.
I'm not weak. I'm not without. I was misdiagnosed. I am trying to be better than what happpened to me. I'm trying to move on. I *do* need someone to understand, but I don't think anyone really gets it right now. Maybe they see it, but understanding what happened and why I am what I am, is hard now. I've gone into an isolated state.
I hope hope hope when Monday rolls around, I'm willing to reconnect because I'll be in a new place, and by Tuesday I'll be back to normal for my next open mic.
I'm going back to California in April I've decided. I'm gunna take the 18-25th off.
I also went on a date last Thursday which was good, because it was a benefit I was participating in. I invited a guy called Bret to come along and we had a lot of good conversations. He's extremely liberal which is something I am toally about. I donated $30 and PAWS made over $500 that night. I was very proud. He donated money himself and was attentive all night. Overall it was a good time. I don't know how much potential we have exactly, but it was nice to go out again. I hope I can see him again next week sometime after Wednesday, when everything calms down and I can make a real assesment. Not just of me and getting back to me, but of him and seeing if we're on the same page.
I texted Johnny about giving his stuff and getting my microwave back, but he is being illusive. I guess I'll just take it for what it is. I really wish we could be ammicable. (As in amiche the word for friendly in Italian. Perhaps a more literal definition.)
I'm counting down the days til I am finallly in my beautiful new townhouse. Finally a new chapter. Finally some closure in the best sense that started last year in March when I moved to the U Dist. Finally I start with a new diagnosis and CBT. Finally...
And maybe I'm wishing too much.
But tonight the Reisling was good and the day was spent watching tv and playing video games.
Tomorrow I'm scouting a show at El Corazon. Sunday I move.
It's random, but here's another entry. I will write again soon.
<3
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Until next time
Hey
If you think you know me-
You think you care-
You'd know my next move
Like a chess master, predicting me 6 moves ahead.
I'm not like that.
I'm 6 months anywhere.
And now, it's not even 6 months.
Cuz, you know, who knows?
I've dumped everything I wouldn't want anyone to deal with.
I'm giving back all I have of others
(anybody)
And I'm retreating to a place with my own entrance.
My space, as I call it.
No one's.
Just me again, in some words.
For peace.
For a place I can seek all I want from any
prying eyes.
Prying opinions.
Prying concern most of all.
If I thought anyone could understand I would let them.
But I cut my world to the quick.
If you don't know on Sunday where I am-
The likelihood you will is slim.
Why bother with the formalities?
I am me. You are you.
Our lives are seperate planes now.
Everybody loves me
(I get it)
But they have moved on.
And I can not, becuz it is not fair for anyone involved now.
Yes, maybe I liked you.
But liking leads not to love, nor any REAL sentimental attachment.
In fact, I feel the opposite.
Fuck you.
Getting to know me takes more than a few lines from
Some fucked up poem.
Some train or river of thought.
You must know more about why I retreat
Then about my love of dogs, or sushi, or music.
I'm not sure whether my heart is healing or breaking but either way
PROGRESS.
I have loved so many, so deeply.
But I have claimed a spot in the lonely hearts club for life-
Because even as I give every part of my being to another
They can not feel the same.
It appears all a game.
The truth, the REAL truth is only music saves.
And as I lay on that bed
with the needles and the drip
I don't care
Because music goes on forever.
and something in that is how I found my way back the first time.
I reassure my father "you'll know where I am when the time comes"
He becomes so confused.
He signs the check from my account without the real knowledge of where I am just yet.
He has other worries
And again I push, why bother?
I promise him it's beautiful. He'd be happy.
Someday, likely in weeks, when I'm ready he'll know.
But the reason for this secret
Is becuz people can't be trusted, and I can not hurt my Dad.
So here I am. Writing this stupid entry, in my little idiotic life.
And the next chapter is bigger, less expensive and only until August. We can see how my blood is then. Let's not get too excited or in over our heads. But for now this is enough for me.
I'm too tired to write anything else tonight, cryptic or otherwise.
I love you so. I miss you. As always, I feel.
Until next time...
If you think you know me-
You think you care-
You'd know my next move
Like a chess master, predicting me 6 moves ahead.
I'm not like that.
I'm 6 months anywhere.
And now, it's not even 6 months.
Cuz, you know, who knows?
I've dumped everything I wouldn't want anyone to deal with.
I'm giving back all I have of others
(anybody)
And I'm retreating to a place with my own entrance.
My space, as I call it.
No one's.
Just me again, in some words.
For peace.
For a place I can seek all I want from any
prying eyes.
Prying opinions.
Prying concern most of all.
If I thought anyone could understand I would let them.
But I cut my world to the quick.
If you don't know on Sunday where I am-
The likelihood you will is slim.
Why bother with the formalities?
I am me. You are you.
Our lives are seperate planes now.
Everybody loves me
(I get it)
But they have moved on.
And I can not, becuz it is not fair for anyone involved now.
Yes, maybe I liked you.
But liking leads not to love, nor any REAL sentimental attachment.
In fact, I feel the opposite.
Fuck you.
Getting to know me takes more than a few lines from
Some fucked up poem.
Some train or river of thought.
You must know more about why I retreat
Then about my love of dogs, or sushi, or music.
I'm not sure whether my heart is healing or breaking but either way
PROGRESS.
I have loved so many, so deeply.
But I have claimed a spot in the lonely hearts club for life-
Because even as I give every part of my being to another
They can not feel the same.
It appears all a game.
The truth, the REAL truth is only music saves.
And as I lay on that bed
with the needles and the drip
I don't care
Because music goes on forever.
and something in that is how I found my way back the first time.
I reassure my father "you'll know where I am when the time comes"
He becomes so confused.
He signs the check from my account without the real knowledge of where I am just yet.
He has other worries
And again I push, why bother?
I promise him it's beautiful. He'd be happy.
Someday, likely in weeks, when I'm ready he'll know.
But the reason for this secret
Is becuz people can't be trusted, and I can not hurt my Dad.
So here I am. Writing this stupid entry, in my little idiotic life.
And the next chapter is bigger, less expensive and only until August. We can see how my blood is then. Let's not get too excited or in over our heads. But for now this is enough for me.
I'm too tired to write anything else tonight, cryptic or otherwise.
I love you so. I miss you. As always, I feel.
Until next time...
Monday, March 14, 2011
Tenuous
A single moment
Before the call that drew you to the sea
A single fragment
Of a loss that's buried deep in memory
In stillness, no comfort
In silence, awash in fervent dreams
In stillness, I see you
Returning back to me
A shrouded echo
Resounding waves that fall apon the shore
I feel you moving
To a place where I shall see you nevermore
Before the call that drew you to the sea
A single fragment
Of a loss that's buried deep in memory
In stillness, no comfort
In silence, awash in fervent dreams
In stillness, I see you
Returning back to me
A shrouded echo
Resounding waves that fall apon the shore
I feel you moving
To a place where I shall see you nevermore
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Pain, work, goodbyes, longing, peace, and me
Today was a really hard pain day. The codeine didn't touch it, so I had to take the vicodin. There were a few tears. I'm not sure if they were from the pain, or the emotions surrounding the pain.
I've been told that it might be good to start writing some goodbye letters. Letters that I'd never send out, but that say everything to that person I'd want to say. That perhaps this is a step towards closure. I think they want me to do it for a couple different reasons.
I guess I never realized how many people that truly meant something to me I've had to say goodbye to. That I can not contact, will not contact me, or died.
Sometimes the world is so fucking big. Sometimes, I feel like I know everyone in Seattle, even if it's by proxy. But I feel small myself right now. I guess because I'm feeling vulnerable.
Anyway, the goodbye letters are going to take some time to write. The hardest ones will be to my past loves. And to the future one I may never know.
Sarah and Bob are doing well. Surprisingly it hasn't really changed how much Sar and I hang out which I'm thankful for. Sar is my constant right now. Debbie and I grow apart, mostly on my accord I guess. I'm tired of playing her games and shit. They just wear me out. I miss my Wayne terribly. He crossed my mind for awhile today for the first time in awhile. Ironically he called me tonight. I didn't answer. I didn't want him to hear me weak.
My other "friends" are the people I'm working with now, rotating around. The other musicians and bar owners and other bookers. The people at their shows. I'm officially the de-facto manager of a local band here now, and I've been doing a lot of reading and research. We are meeting weekly or bi-weekly to make a game plan. We're coming up with tasks every week we need to accomplish before their second cd release in June. I'm still trying to network like crazy of course, because the saying is true, it is partly about who you know. I want the boys to get out there and make new friends, and I want to try and get them playing at a college frat party. I want to develop their stage show a bit, but these aren't the steps we're on yet. I won't outline everything here, but it's a big job and we're hitting the ground running.
Meanwhile my own personal music I'm still writing, but the solo shit has been stalled. Understandably. I'm getting ready to move again, and my health has come first, when I'm not working. I have come up with a good new rock song called "We Only Love What Kills Us" and I'm excited about it. There are other ideas and concepts but for now, that has the most promise.
The meds I'm on are making me gain weight which blooooooows. As soon as the rain quits I'm gunna start running again. I've already started to change my diet, but man have I been up and down the last few months.
Anyway, all the writing til now I confess was just an excuse. I really wanted to write about Johnny again. I was going through my camera and saw some of the pictures I took of him back around this time last year. When I feel I was happiest with him. (April-ish) and got incredibly nostalgic. He really is an amazing guy. He always knew how to make me laugh. I do still miss him quite a lot. It's not that I can't let go either, but there isn't any closure for me there.
Anyway I loved him for many reasons. And I was angry when I wrote the last blog about him not caring. Maybe he does care, but is holding back or something. Maybe I'm not giving him enough credit.
The person I am now, versus the person I was even 8 months ago is ridiculously different. I mean, I'm still me, but I *feel* different. For the first time ever. I can't explain it, but everybody says so.
I'm acting different. I'm not actively seeking love (perhaps a good step in the addiction process) and I spend all my time putting my efforts into something I hope one day to really make something of. Almost to the point I get burned out, but not quite. When I feel it happening I do something else.
Anyway, I wish Johnny had known this Kate. She's still fun, but more focused. She has her own life/work now versus just playing music. The time I'd need now is less, because I'm more comfortable with the network of friends I have and want and need time with them. Perhaps I'd even be able to explain myself better to him.
Unfortunately, I'm still a romantic though and I do gestures. It just turns out that friends appreciate them too. I bought Sarah some sushi and a cd with our song on it when she was having a shitty day. I took Jay out to the last good show, and insisted he come with me to the next show I'm STOKED for at El Corazon. I avoid ambien at night altogether now. I limit my drinking more, and I rarely get the urge to self destruct. Hasn't happened in months anyway.
I am also happy to announce that The BPD Diagnosis I was once saddled with and felt so... at war with... has been labeled as a misdiagnosis. Which means I'm not as fucked up as they once thought, or I once was. I'm less ashamed to tell people I have complex PTSD because that means it's not so much about me, but about what happened to me and how I internalized it. I apparently turn out better than a lot of cases. Of course, as always, I am a work in progress. But I'm thankful to be working on it. Because that means there are ways of continuing to get better there. I just hope that whatever they find in my blood allows me a chance for more practice. Of course, just living means there is a chance something could happen that makes me worse, too. That's part of the complex thing I guess.
My open mic was packed last night. I was so happy to see the place full. It's the best it's been yet. But with all the talking I'd done that day I went hoarse. Didn't care. Still had fun. Besides my band coming out Mary, Meggie, and Jeff were all there as were my bar staff family.
Listening to a lot of Levi Weaver lately again. Been emailing him more often. He really is such an incredible man. His music touches me so. He finally got the second full cd out. It's great. I just bought his first E.P finally. Should've done it years ago.
I am alone tonight again, but for one of the very few times ever I'm not really uncomfortable with it. The pain has died down just enough to sleep, so I'm off to do just that. And feel this longing in my heart for my memories with mr blue eyes, but to be simply ok with that too, rather than desperate and lost.
I hope you find yourself some peace tonight as well dear reader.
I've been told that it might be good to start writing some goodbye letters. Letters that I'd never send out, but that say everything to that person I'd want to say. That perhaps this is a step towards closure. I think they want me to do it for a couple different reasons.
I guess I never realized how many people that truly meant something to me I've had to say goodbye to. That I can not contact, will not contact me, or died.
Sometimes the world is so fucking big. Sometimes, I feel like I know everyone in Seattle, even if it's by proxy. But I feel small myself right now. I guess because I'm feeling vulnerable.
Anyway, the goodbye letters are going to take some time to write. The hardest ones will be to my past loves. And to the future one I may never know.
Sarah and Bob are doing well. Surprisingly it hasn't really changed how much Sar and I hang out which I'm thankful for. Sar is my constant right now. Debbie and I grow apart, mostly on my accord I guess. I'm tired of playing her games and shit. They just wear me out. I miss my Wayne terribly. He crossed my mind for awhile today for the first time in awhile. Ironically he called me tonight. I didn't answer. I didn't want him to hear me weak.
My other "friends" are the people I'm working with now, rotating around. The other musicians and bar owners and other bookers. The people at their shows. I'm officially the de-facto manager of a local band here now, and I've been doing a lot of reading and research. We are meeting weekly or bi-weekly to make a game plan. We're coming up with tasks every week we need to accomplish before their second cd release in June. I'm still trying to network like crazy of course, because the saying is true, it is partly about who you know. I want the boys to get out there and make new friends, and I want to try and get them playing at a college frat party. I want to develop their stage show a bit, but these aren't the steps we're on yet. I won't outline everything here, but it's a big job and we're hitting the ground running.
Meanwhile my own personal music I'm still writing, but the solo shit has been stalled. Understandably. I'm getting ready to move again, and my health has come first, when I'm not working. I have come up with a good new rock song called "We Only Love What Kills Us" and I'm excited about it. There are other ideas and concepts but for now, that has the most promise.
The meds I'm on are making me gain weight which blooooooows. As soon as the rain quits I'm gunna start running again. I've already started to change my diet, but man have I been up and down the last few months.
Anyway, all the writing til now I confess was just an excuse. I really wanted to write about Johnny again. I was going through my camera and saw some of the pictures I took of him back around this time last year. When I feel I was happiest with him. (April-ish) and got incredibly nostalgic. He really is an amazing guy. He always knew how to make me laugh. I do still miss him quite a lot. It's not that I can't let go either, but there isn't any closure for me there.
Anyway I loved him for many reasons. And I was angry when I wrote the last blog about him not caring. Maybe he does care, but is holding back or something. Maybe I'm not giving him enough credit.
The person I am now, versus the person I was even 8 months ago is ridiculously different. I mean, I'm still me, but I *feel* different. For the first time ever. I can't explain it, but everybody says so.
I'm acting different. I'm not actively seeking love (perhaps a good step in the addiction process) and I spend all my time putting my efforts into something I hope one day to really make something of. Almost to the point I get burned out, but not quite. When I feel it happening I do something else.
Anyway, I wish Johnny had known this Kate. She's still fun, but more focused. She has her own life/work now versus just playing music. The time I'd need now is less, because I'm more comfortable with the network of friends I have and want and need time with them. Perhaps I'd even be able to explain myself better to him.
Unfortunately, I'm still a romantic though and I do gestures. It just turns out that friends appreciate them too. I bought Sarah some sushi and a cd with our song on it when she was having a shitty day. I took Jay out to the last good show, and insisted he come with me to the next show I'm STOKED for at El Corazon. I avoid ambien at night altogether now. I limit my drinking more, and I rarely get the urge to self destruct. Hasn't happened in months anyway.
I am also happy to announce that The BPD Diagnosis I was once saddled with and felt so... at war with... has been labeled as a misdiagnosis. Which means I'm not as fucked up as they once thought, or I once was. I'm less ashamed to tell people I have complex PTSD because that means it's not so much about me, but about what happened to me and how I internalized it. I apparently turn out better than a lot of cases. Of course, as always, I am a work in progress. But I'm thankful to be working on it. Because that means there are ways of continuing to get better there. I just hope that whatever they find in my blood allows me a chance for more practice. Of course, just living means there is a chance something could happen that makes me worse, too. That's part of the complex thing I guess.
My open mic was packed last night. I was so happy to see the place full. It's the best it's been yet. But with all the talking I'd done that day I went hoarse. Didn't care. Still had fun. Besides my band coming out Mary, Meggie, and Jeff were all there as were my bar staff family.
Listening to a lot of Levi Weaver lately again. Been emailing him more often. He really is such an incredible man. His music touches me so. He finally got the second full cd out. It's great. I just bought his first E.P finally. Should've done it years ago.
I am alone tonight again, but for one of the very few times ever I'm not really uncomfortable with it. The pain has died down just enough to sleep, so I'm off to do just that. And feel this longing in my heart for my memories with mr blue eyes, but to be simply ok with that too, rather than desperate and lost.
I hope you find yourself some peace tonight as well dear reader.
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