For those of you who might be wondering where the aich-ee-double-hockeysticks I've been and what I've been up to, I can easily sum it up in two words: THEATRE WORLD.
Things in my life have never been dull or still. I usually stay busier than the average Joe (if not the average Jane. Most of the Janes I know are pretty danged busy ladies.), but lately everything has been cranked up a notch, all the way to '11' really.
I think you all know about the comedy troupe I perform with - The Feral Chihuahuas (Stoneleaf Festival (cool, huh?) which is VERY exciting, but also only a few weeks away. We are also performing our regularly scheduled shows every other Wednesday (Thank goddess though, after this week, we'll basically just be doing our Stoneleaf rehearsals on stage). THEN, on top of this, this weekend is the Renaissance Festival. We (myself, Chris and two other members of The Feral Chihuahuas, our good friends Liz and Jay put together a Shakespearean (well, loosely Shakespearean... ;) show called "Periwig" to perform at the faire. In that 30 minute show we do an intro, an ad for Gandalf's 'Plague Be Gone', a strange little piece that breaks the 4th wall, a fantastic "dueling thespians" scene betwixt Hamlet and Antigone (the boys did it for Kumquat this week, with Tommy playing 'Duelling Banjos" on the guitar - it was a RIOT!), and our big show-stopper - a 15 minute production of "A Midsummer Nights' Dream", in which we pull EIGHT victims... I mean, er, volunteers from the audience to play all of our uncast parts (we lost most of our troupe to the plague, y'see...) and perform a MUCH abbreviated version of the entire play - including a catfight betwixt Helena (moi) and Hermia (our Liz), and multiple excellent death scenes for our poor volunteers. (The boys get their fight during Duelling Thespians.)
SO. We've been rehearsing EVERY SINGLE DAY for weeks now. Sunday we had THREE different rehearsals (Kumquat, a run-through of A Midsummer Night with vols from the faire - THANK THEE, GOOD FOLK!!!, and a full run-through of Periwig on Sunday night.) On the other nights we've done both Kumquat and Periwig, and on Wednesday we performed Kumquat. The few nights that we've been unable to meet, we've spent learning lines, working on props, costumes, etc. and on the nights that we have been completely off (only because a principle couldn't make rehearsal), we've gone to see OTHER people's plays.
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Please forgive me for not being more present, more involved, more noticeably in tune. I promise that I have been aware of what's happening in all of your lives. Mama-Norma has come through her diagnosis and surgery with flying colors; baby Bella (Isabella Madison Sitton - MOOOOO!!!!) came into the world big, beautiful and healthy on April 28 - our little spring flower Princess;
life spins in its' circles, and even in my nigh stupidly hectic (but happy and helping) state, I think of you all while I work and whistle, wishing you all good things.

One other bit of news... big news, happy and sad at the same time: on May 4th, I gave my notice at the Library. I will work 'til the end of this month, and then, flower in hand, I will take that leap of faith and trust in myself to make my way with my hands, my head and my heart - once more! The day that 'Bella was born was the day I lost my fear of leaving the security of this good job, and realized that there is more happiness and better health for me if I just follow my heart. The library won't lose me - in fact, they'll have me for free, because I'm going to join the ranks of the volunteers! And I am looking forward to being my own woman again, having a more flexible schedule to do with as I please - see my friends more; work on projects I've needed and wanted to for so long; learn to use my sewing machine; get back into photography wholeheartedly; put more time into my jewelry work and other saleable arts; get my sick body back into better shape; walk the roads and wander the woods and fields (HURRAY!); set up a little ebay business; try as many part-time jobs as I want and need to; visit family; write more; finish Loki's Little Acre (and convert it to a screenplay!); help Chris with his films; knuckle down to the Comedy-grind; clean my house and yard - well the list is fortunately, joyfully endless. What it comes down to is that I can live on Sam-time, and I believe with all my heart that I can make Sam-time even MORE productive and at least as lucrative as TheMan-time - AND I CAN WEAR PAJAMAS AND FLIP-FLOPS 98% OF THE TIME IF I WANT TO! WHEEE! I can work a 14 hour day one day and go fishing the next, if I want to. I can say 'Yes' and 'No' to whomever I please, and if someone has a problem with me, I can walk away and smile and forget that they exist. I can explore the change that the last five years has made in me, and hopefully repair the physical change for the worst.
I don't have to ask for you all to wish me luck - I know you do. Everyone has told me how happy they are for me to have the chance to live my art (art my life? :) on a bigger scale. My patrons and co-workers have said they're proud of me for taking the chance. I doubt they'll ever know how much that means to me. I promised myself that if I left the best job I've ever had, that I wouldn't leave it for less than something wonderful. I'm going to do my damndest to make this jump count. I can still see my patrons and kids when I volunteer - not to mention spend social time with them sans the fear of - for example - getting too squiffy on red wine at the W_____'s house on Friday night, telling all my fave naughty jokes, and then having the whole town talk/it getting put in the paper/getting called on the carpet) the next Monday. *sheesh*

So, let it be OFFICIALLY known: after May 28, I'm a free woman - I have taken on a luscious baby-sitting commitment for the bulk of the summer, 3 days a week, mid-week, but I'll be able to work my art while I do that, too. And the rest is an open field. If you have commissions, ideas, need to "Rent-a-Sam" for a day, for any purpose (for example, Liz is hiring me to help her organize her house, in trade for some sewing lessons...), let me know! I suspect that my calendar will fill up fast! :)
Much love, and many, many hopes and dreams,
(much more like the OLD-)
-s.

In the midst of a hard, painful, tearful day, there is still this...

I am delighted to say that a few people have accepted my challenge so far! Aunt Sue was first, she sent me 10, so I added 10 more to her list to encourage her to think of 80 more. OurAndi did it in her blog - which I recommend reading just for the heck of it. It's a worthwhile 20 minutes or so a week, I promise. My friend Carol has sent me 50-ish so far, a few amended, and has promised to try to add more (I'm going to see if I can post hers here too, when she's done) and also dear Hannah Bright.
Hannah - who I think is 15 (though her soul, as you will see from her list, is much, MUCH older...), who should, in my opinion be the library's MASCOT, who makes me believe in divine possibilities just by knowing her - gave me permission to print her awe-inspiring, just downright inspiring:
100 Things I Like About Myself:
1. I read at least one book a day.
2. My middle name(Bright) never in my 16 years of being have I encountered another with that middle name but when I do, I'm going to kiss them and ask what is(one of) their favorite
book(s).
3. I LOVELOVE LOVVE words and do all I can to learn more about them(I have read Webster's cover to cover at least 14 times, and study forgone languages whenever possible)
4. I memorize poetry obsessively and to perfection, sometimes spending up to 3 hours on a speech/sonnet/extremely-long-poem
5. When it does not distract others from the music, I lie under the piano when it is being played, it heightens the sound and experience for me(especially if it's Brahms)
6. I read encyclopedias for pleasure(and other non-novels that many people tend to dislike out of a classroom setting - histories, science books, methods . . . other things) obsessively and can never get enough knowledge of . . . well, most anything worth being a scholar on.
7. I am a Christian, and am also very sad about how my beliefs have been skewed by other people who, in regard to their actions, are not.
8. I love Richard Harris(and I cry over his voice).
9. I love Richard Burton(and cry over his voice).
10. I can whistle fairly well.11. I believe in fairies, goblins, brownies, orcs [she even included ORCS!:], changelings, waifs, niyads, ents, polkas and driyads.
12. I LOVE moss.(and most of the things it flourishes on)
13. I love Rudolf Nureyev(I scream over his voice:).
14. I can draw anything (and nothing) fairly well(and am not afraid to try)
15. I dream about things before they happen(and have all my life)
16. I THRIVE off books and poetry of ALL kinds . . . and love to write letters when I have the time.
17. I LOVELOVE LLLLOVE art and give to it whenever possible.(music, books, dance, visual, people)
18. I have read Les Misérables countless times and am not weary of it.
19. I have read MANY books countless times and still adore them.
20. I have beautiful friends, who are like family to me, and I make certain they know it as often as possible.
21. I have failings, and am a flawed human being.
22. I cry when it is warranted(and when it's not)
23. I have never denied(verbally or by my actions) that I have a soul.
24. I ADORE Bjork [!!!].
25. I love weeds. [Dandelion Liberation Front approves! ;]
26. I give flowers(wild and otherwise) to loved ones and complete strangers(and have made gazillions of friends in that way)
27. I sit on my roof in rain and snow as well as sunny weather.
28. I love the way I feel before/after a storm: everything seems sharper, and more alive.
29. I kiss trees.
30. I have ALWAYS admired and respected American Indians, and am proud to be a distant relation(my great-grand mothers on both parent's sides were of different tribes)
31. I love scarves and will wear them with anything.
32. I have goodgood friends who range in the ages of 5 to 87; and I love and treat them all as equal(and sometimes BETTER :D) to(then) my peers.
33. I have never been made ashamed of "weird" things I do, say, or wear by people the truly care about me.
34. There are chapters in my life that are seldom read and certainly not aloud, and that's O.K.
35. I have withstood hurtful things from people who could love me.(though, how can I say this knowing you will read it Sam? YOU who have had hell to crawl through and ended up blooming in spite of it all, and the truth is, I have a wonderful, awesome family, but my cousins HAVE thrown mud/rocks/branches at my on different occasions(all because I didn't want to play Truth or Dare), at every(and I mean EVERY) social gathering they tell me(most of the time in front of others) how ugly I am, my lips are paper-thin, my hair is thin and non-colored, my legs are so short, I am a midget, I am so short they could use me as a prop, my arms are chubby, my teeth are bucked(I had BRACES for heaven's sake!), my IQ is ssssssoooooooo low(they know that's not true hehe), my eyes are too small and SO close together, my ears are bigger then Dumbo's, my chest is out of proportion with the rest of my body(oohhh it burns me up!), my butt is huge, my stomach is HUGE, you get the picture. All of these things they say in one setting, and more, they seem to be inventing new wrongs every time I see them, I have tried talking with them about it but they always turn it into "Hannah, CAN'T you take a JOKE?!" but they never laugh. I'm over-reacting, I know and I'm sorry. When I THINK of what some of my FRIENDS not to mention people I don't know have to DEAL with I could just kill myself for whining over a few curt remarks, but it gets tiring.)
36. I am in a jazz band.
37. I love(LOVVVVVVVE) philosophy, and often will walk out among the stars and dew in a muddy soccer field and scream to the sky - alone: "WHAT'S IT ALL ABOUT, ALFIE?!!!"
38. I make up words and phrases to describe things, and have heard strangers using them.
39. I don't watch T.V. at all or listen to any other radio station but NPR.
40. Despite a frequent addiction to day-dreaming; I am capable of firm and decided action.
41. I want to live in Estonia one day(even if it's only for a few months).
42. The reason I am considering nursing as a profession is because of a Snowdon photograph.
43. I have a deep respect for water, and it is one of my favorite elements.
44. People have opened up to me with problems they have said they share with no one else.
45. I love my brother and talk to him about a lot that goes on in my life and the world, and he(although 9) usually understands.
46. I sing in many "inappropriate" places.
47. I name things I use. My bike, my roller-skates, my pens, my guitar, our piano, our van, my coffee cups . . . etc.
48. I believe in the phrase "to thine own self be true" and try my utmost to keep to up. I am also passionately honest with other people.
49. I blow kisses constantly.
50. I understand that the quality of death, like that of life, must be of an infinite variety and color.
51. I can speak conversational Farsi.
52. I can speak conversational French.
53. I cook some mean scones [Andi could've added this one too! :]
54. I have read all of Shakespeare's works.(the complete sonnets, plays, everything)
55. I have INCREDIBLE friends who love and enjoy(most) of the things/people I do.
56. Despite contrary belief I am not a feminist, but I do believe in equality of the sexes.
57. I LOVVVVVVE all kinds of tea and coffee, and will make it whenever the opportunity arises.
58. I don't have a problem with inter-racial(I hate that term, it sounds so CLINICAL) marriages.
59. I dance around the bathroom when I'm brushing my teeth.
60. I love to listen to stories, true and untrue, especially if an elder is the teller.
61. I have lots of foreign friends, who have told me they feel more comfortable with me then any other American they have contacted while here.
62. I loved vintage before vintage was cool(and I MEAN THAT!)
63. I try to see beauty in "dappled" things.
64. I hate excuses and try my best not to make them for myself.
65. I have scars, and that is O.K. with me.
66. Fear drives the world(and me), I know that, and try to be unafraid.
67. I have, at one time or another, lent everyone I know(and some I don't) grace.
68. I have the ability to laugh at myself.
69. Mary Shelley is (one of) my hero(s).
70. I have been named "the grammar nerd" by a college English teacher.(though I'm probably slaying everything I have learned here)
71. Befriending dirty, "ugly", homeless, junkie, sluttish people doesn't scare me.
72. I am fluent in sign language and have used it on countless occasions.
73. I have defended myself and friends as well as broken up physical and verbal fights and (have also) never lost(I had to slap a prostitute once though).
74. I wear mis-matching clothes.
75. I hate prom and everything having to do with it.
76. I love the city. I love the lights, the sounds, the metropolitan vibe...there is so much energy, life...filth, corruption, anger, blood...with all that said, I have never lived in a city and would die for my family's farm.
77. I celebrate Mardi Gras every year(usually by myself or with Isaac)
78. I have a love/hate fascination with carnivals of all kinds.
79. I have read the Bible from cover to cover.
80. I have also read "The Origin of Species" "The Feminine Mystique" "the Koran" and other various religious writings, have weighed and measured their ideas, and come to the conclusion that the Bible is absolute truth.
81. Although I believe people are as diverse as leafs, most of our struggles/emotions/reactions are akin to one another, and are not at all different.
82. I can surf well.
83. I believe that how you relate to people is one of the most important things in life.
84. I have been accused of pointing out how stupid "everyone" is all the time, and responded with "Wait, I haven't told you how stupid I am yet!"
85. I believe you should not reject what you don't understand, for with understanding there may be acceptance.
86. I play dress-up.
87. I have had near-death experiences, and come out better each time.
88. I can dance well.(9 years of Ballet, I SHOULD be able to!)
89. Not many things impress me.
90. My kittens.
91. My tear-bottle.
92. I go barefoot a lot.
93. I can sleep well in uncomfortable places.(on rocks, sticks, in wetness, etc.)
94. I am a Southerner, not a red-neck, and could care less about the flag.
95. I have never had a crush on a guy before, and am glad. All the men I love are dead.
96. Guys and girls find it easy to relate to me, and(most of the time) I to them.
97. I am (by Barry's definition) a "walking paradox".
98. I have done/said things, been laughed at, and continued because whatever it was made me happy.
99. I love mud puddles.
100. I appreciate and treasure Sam Lovelace's friendship(and ALL she does for me right down to smiling!) and love her this *spreads arms as wide as they will go* much! :)

Love is the most beautiful of frustrations because it is beyond the power to express. I love you, Hannah Bright"

Yes, she's a real girl, and I am lucky to know her. I can vouch for many of the amazing things on her list, and though some are surpises(farsi?! surfing?! wow!), none are shocking. I'd be proud to be just like her when I grow up, and I am proud to know her now. Thank you for all your band-aids, Hannah Bright! I love you too!

Keep making those good lists folks - you might even surprise yourselves!
much love,
-s

I Challenge Everyone to Do This.

(LJ folks:You don’t have to do it here – though I’d LOVE to read folks’ lists. Blog readers – e them to me!) Be honest, and don’t worry about “bragging”. I don’t know a single person who doesn’t deserve to brag at least a little. And for those of you who might have a bad opinion of me (and I know that some do, and I can honestly understand why). I didn't do this for the purpose of bragging - I did it because I needed to, and I posted it to encourage others to do so.

100 Things I Like About Myself:

When I go to Google, I automatically (unthinkingly) click “Images” first.

My elegant, often unbelievable name: Samantha Louanne Lovelace.

My own sort of Geekism, which I usually think of as somehow inferior, is actually true Old School Geekism, pre-computer, pre-con, pre-game. I am an art*/knowledge/language/
hedonistic nerd, who also happens to love and respect all this “new-fangled” Geekism, too.

People find it easy to be honest with me, even if they think that what they need to say might hurt.

I can’t keep a secret.

I cook good soul food.

My taste in much music and many films is unashamedly cheesy.

I feel comfortable with children.

I love things that are bent, broken, mottled, freckled, speckled, spotted, strange – things that are often unloved by most everyone else. Even things that are often broken and completely unusable, but still beautiful, I turn into art.

I like to try new things.

My tattoos make me feel strong and happy.

I can often make the very best of very bad things.

I try to see the good in bad things, and often can.

As much as the past hurts me, I still love the person that I am, and admire my own strength.

I draw kindness from good people.

My bizarre and festive fashion “sense”.

The fact that my birthdays are month-long events, and that people look forward to being included in the fun.

My very deep and ingrained “Southerness” – I suppose it is the heart of what grace I have.

I am – despite popular opinion and even possible evidence – very logical and practical.

My love for all animals, but especially “weird” ones.

My passion for boys, Orc and otherwise.

My ability to love ‘the monsters’ (Frankenstein, Roy Batty, the Orcses, Tobie, etc.)

My odd face.

My hands. The way they look, their sensitivity, all that they can do.

My very strange and intermittently eerily accurate mnemonic ability (yes, sometimes I even remember things that haven’t happened yet)

Despite their origins, my hyperawareness and hypervigilance.

The intrinsic artistic nature of my entire being.

My ability to create so easily.

The fact that I recognize some good things about myself.

The fact that I recognize some bad things about myself.

My ability to empathize.

The fact that I really DO like long walks on the beach.

I can draw anything.

I enjoy honestly flattering people, even strangers.

The extra wonderful fact that cool, intelligent, strong, amazing women love me and are drawn to me.

When I go to “ethnic” restaurants, I do my best to speak/practice their language a little (which I actively attempt to learn bits of in my spare time).

I think bugs, even spiders, are really cool.

I like to organize things.

I can’t resist cute baby anythings.

I like boy clothes.

I am “cute”.

My scars (and the scars of others) are beautiful to me.

I am not shy about trying any new cuisine.

I am “old-fashioned” in a lot of ways.

I press dozens of flowers every year, and on every trip I take, then make them into bookmarks.

I think girls are wonderful, pretty, special, and as unique as flowers.

It makes me happy to make girls feel extra-special, extra-pretty, and stronger.

One day, I vow to live in a place and situation where I’ll never have to wear anything but pajamas and flip-flops if I don’t want to.

I don’t play video games.

I gave up TV eight years ago.

I quit smoking two years ago yesterday (04/15).

I sing pretty much constantly.

My sketchbooks and journals could fill a small storage space.

I think Bjork is the coolest human alive (that I know about).

I think most of my friends tie for second-coolest human alive (and that birds of a feather flock together).

I feed the rabbits in my yard, and leave nest-stuff for the birds every year.

I ‘art’ obsessively.

Storms make me veryvery happy.

I still miss my ex-husband. I especially wish I could discuss the latest movies with him.

I reallyreallyreally love hot tea.

I don’t actually think that people are generally so very different, and I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.

Sometimes I like the “bad” things about people so much that I’d rather them stay that way than change so that I could be around them more.

I miss my grandma.

I have a lot of heroes.

I make GREAT salsa.

I like to be sparkly, I like sparkly things.

I am both veryvery silly and veryvery serious, and I don’t think that’s bad.

I’m both a BIG girl and a SMALL person.

Rubbing my face on kitty bellies works better at relieving my stress than any drug.

I make insecure men mad.

I make secure men happy.

I challenge people to be more – whatever they are, whatever they want to be – directly and indirectly.

People say that I am the most capable person they know.

People say that I am the sanest person they know.

I’ve been through hell and I’m still a good person.

I trust people more than I should.

I make up words, and people “steal” them.

I’m good at lots of things.

I’m excited that there’s still so much for me to see and learn.

“Shy” is a word that is seldom used to describe me.

I’ve had to physically defend myself and others many times, and I have never hit a girl and I have never lost a fight.

I’m a good dancer.

I am known for speaking my mind.

I’ve faced a lot of my fears.

I inspire people.

Motherhood is not for me, I know exactly why, and that’s ok.

I am a great babysitter.

When a movie is based on something else (comic or book), I can avoid comparison, and enjoy the movie for what it is.

I am not a snob about books, movies, etc. – though if someone tries to get snarky on me, I can go there.

I am very (veryvery) sharp-witted. I never think “Oh! I wish I’d thought of that - (fill in snappy comeback)!” an hour later.

I am brave in many ways.

I am really into good hygiene.

My house is never too very messy and things are pretty well organized, despite the fact that I am a terrible pack-rat.

I am less of a pack-rat than I used to be.

Although I am sentimental, I can also let things go. I have learned to lose things and cope.

I exaggerate AND procrastinate.

I’m bad at paperwork and other red-tapey things.

I want to make/see the people around me happy.

I have survived horrible things and still am not bitter, cynical or jaded.

I can think of at least 100 things that I like about myself!!! :D

MAKE A LIST! Send it to me, if you want to!
Much love,
-s

*art = visual, photog, film, music, dance, etc. – all to me.

I will NEVER stop trusting, NEVER stop skipping and singing wherever I go, NEVER stop enjoying the flowers, the sun the rain...
Find a better hobby, folks...

There are some cowardly, pathetic, embittered, spiteful, petty, insipid, hateful, two-faced busybodies in this world, and apparently, at least a few of them read this blog. Let me say right off the bat that this is not the kind of thing I would say in this very public forum about anyone I know (no, Andi, it’s not YOU! ;), so let me also add “anonymous”* to my list of hurt and angry adjectives. If I knew who they were, I’d more than likely not have anything to do with them, therefore saving them the trouble of having to be involved in my horrible, sordid, useless, annoying life, and save me the trouble of having to lower myself to their level to say how little I appreciate them using this sacred space that contains the outpourings of my heart and mind against me and other innocent people.
If, however, these were people I knew, and they were brave and self-aware enough to actually speak to me in person about the problems they have with me and any of the things I say here, then I would tell them what I thought about the methods to their madness**, and how unkind it is to use assumptions about what I write here to emotionally bludgeon me and others as well***. I wouldn’t waste my time posting blogs about it, I'd wait for the right time, and deal with it as directly and diplomatically as possible.
I can’t even begin to imagine why they would do this to someone they call a friend****, and I suppose that’s between them and the people who call them friend, but I have plenty of guesses why they might come here and read what I’m sure they think of, if they truly dislike me so much, as drivel, then turn around and try to use it as a weapon in multiple ways*****. I went to high school; I remember this methodology all too well. In order to be aware of this blog, they must also know me, and know that I trust them to some extent, and that’s terrible******. I admit it, I am way too trusting. But thank god SOMEbody is. I’m glad that these folks are too cowardly to show their true feelings to me, because then I would be angry and find it harder to treat them like I treat everyone that I don’t know for sure is an ignoranus*******. I may be self-centered (which is – or should be - a perfectly normal state for anyone who isn’t a parent), but I try to give people the benefit of the doubt and assume that everyone has good intentions, and that I am not wasting my time by trying to be nice to them. In fact, I try to find a soft spot in my heart for those who are hardened and hurt, because I know there’s usually a reason for that********, and I feel sympathy for them. If growing up in my family wasn’t able to kill my ability to trust, then this incident certainly won’t, and I really think, when it comes right down to it, that this attitude is a BIIIIG part of the problem. I think that some people are so unhappy in their own disappointing lives********* that they can’t bear to see anyone else making a better go of it than they do. They feel compelled to try to knock people down to what they think of as their level. I could be wrong. I could just be the terrible person they think I am, and deluded, but I trust my friends who I know are good people, and who tell me always how much they love, respect and admire me. I wish this anonymous, acrimonious lot had friends like mine – I think that’s a BIIIG part of the problem too. There’s also the fact that I trust my own judgment – at least regarding myself. If I thought I were the be-all/end-all proverbial donkey’s knob, then I can see how folks might want to knock me down a peg, make me less “popular”, or make potentially bad relationships even worse (that’s extra-shoddy, because that stands to hurt more than just me. UN-cool.) But I have plenty of flaws and problems. And I’m not shy about admitting them, or discussing them openly, as all my friends and readers – anonymous or otherwise – well know. I know that deep down, despite all my flaws (some of them quite huge and noticeable), I am a good person, with the best intentions, and that I have a lot of love for myself, my friends, and the world in general. Yes, one of my many imperfections is that, if I am hurt or angry, I want to talk about it, and share it with people who either care about me, or who might sympathize. But I try very hard to be as gentle and honest as possible when doing so, because I know that my perception, as well as the perceptions of others is limited, and that I might not have the whole story. I try very hard not to write anything here or say anything out loud that could make the situation worse. And attempting to lie here would be like standing in the middle of wherever you’re most unpopular wearing a sign that says “SHOOT ME”. People would definitely notice it, and definitely call me on it – at least I hope they would… the public forum helps to keep me honest and realistic.
Nobody has to like me. That’s perfectly all right. I work well as a Universe of one (well, one plus dog...) Everyone is welcome to his or her opinion, even if that opinion is that I am a worthless piece of drek. But if someone doesn’t like me, they need to either stay away from me and ignore me, or if for whatever reason they are forced to interact with me, then they can offer me the minimum of input, and I will treat them with as much respect and care as I would any stranger in need of my assistance. If they feel enough hatred for me to read my blog and try to use what I write to hurt me and other people, then they need to go ahead and tell me how they feel, get it out of their system, and move on to filling the hollow space in their life that disgusting, terrible ME is currently occupying, and do something to make themselves a better, happier person. If there is really a problem between myself and anyone else, then I sincerely hope that they and I are adult enough to deal with it in our own good time, and even if I did write something terrible about someone here, slanderous or otherwise, how could it ever hurt them if they didn’t know about it? (Are these people looking my mother up to tell her about all my complaints too? Those at least are true.) I would certainly question the motive of the person who brought me the news as much as I’d question the person who allegedly did me wrong. A real hero and a real friend would try to protect the victim from the attack, and confront the bad person (me, in this case) who had the audacity to do this to them. My motive – for saying something hurtful about someone in this public forum – would at least be obvious, and I am brave enough to be straightforward, NON-anonymous, and be available to explain myself to whomever I might have hurt.
Let me make it clear that I am writing this in full awareness of the non-anonymous, otherwise innocent people who might be reading my this page – I’m pretty sure you know who you are. I hope that you can understand why I felt the need to express this particular sentiment in this particular place, and I want you to know that I appreciate you being honest with me, your willingness to try to see my perspective, your understanding and your acceptance of my apology. I respect anyone brave enough to confront their dragons, even if their dragon is me. I am willing to accept any and all backlash from this, simply because it is my right to express myself here. I know you understand that because you told me so. Thank you.

Folks, question your own motives. Protect your friends. Confront your dragons. And instead of hating someone for loving life, learn to love your own. Here are some hopefully helpful antonyms for some of the harsh words I’ve used here tonight:

acrimonious: pleasant
cowardly: brave
pathetic: admirable, heartening, magnanimous
embittered: mellow, glad
spiteful: kind
petty: important, generous
insipid: exciting, full of life
hateful: lovable
busybody: someone who likes their own life enough to mind their own business.

If this isn’t YOU I’m talking to, you’ll KNOW it.
-s

*cow·ard·ly [ków?rdlee] adj
not brave: caused by a lack of courage, or lacking courage
cruel and spineless: showing meanness or cruelty to those who are weaker and fear of those who are equal or stronger

**pa·thet·ic [p? théttik] adj
pitiful: provoking or expressing feelings of pity
contemptibly inadequate: so inadequate as to be laughable or contemptible (informal)

***hate·ful [háytf?l]
spitefully malevolent: characterized by malevolence or spite
evoking feelings of hatred: eliciting feelings or reactions of hatred, detestation, or abhorrence

****bus·y·bod·y [bízzee bòddee]
n prying person: somebody who tends to meddle with other people’s business (informal)
[Late 16th century. Via French pathétique from, ultimately, Greek path?tikos “sensitive,” which was formed, ultimately, from pathos “feeling” (source of English pathos). The underlying sense is “moving, arousing emotion.”]

*****spite·ful [sp?tf’l] adj
vindictive in petty way: full of or showing petty maliciousness

******two-faced
adj 1: marked by deliberate deceptiveness especially by pretending one set of feelings and acting under the influence of another; "she was a deceitful scheming little thing"- Israel Zangwill; "a double-dealing double agent"; "a double-faced infernal traitor and schemer"- W.M.Thackeray

*******both stupid AND an a-hole.

********em·bit·ter·ed [em bítt?rd] adj
feeling bitter: having become bitter, for example, because of hardship, injustice, or neglect

********pet·ty [péttee]
adj
insignificant: of little importance
narrow-minded: narrow-minded in nature
mean: spiteful in character
of relatively little importance: subordinate in rank or importance
[14th century. From Old French peti , a variant of petit “small,” of unknown origin.]

*********in·sip·id [in síppid] adj
dull: dull because lacking in character and lively qualities “that insipid languor that results from the removal of all passions from the mind”David Hume
[Early 17th century. Directly or via French from late Latin insipidus “tasteless,” from sapidus “having a flavor.”] -in·si·pid·i·ty [ìnsi pídd?tee], n -in·sip·id·ly [in síppidlee], adv -in·sip·id·ness, n

Some INCREDIBLY shocking* results from some online quizzes I took tonight:

You scored as Punk/Rebel. Punk/Rebel 75% Drama nerd 69% Stoner 69% Geek 69% Loner 50% Prep/Jock/Cheerleader 25% Goth 19% Ghetto gangsta 6% What's Your High School Stereotype? created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Peter Pan. Your alter ego is Peter Pan. You are a child at heart. Anything you believe is possible, and you never want to grow up. Ariel 88% Peter Pan 88% Sleeping Beauty 75% The Beast 75% Goofy 75% Snow White 69% Donald Duck 63% Cinderella 50% Cruella De Ville 50% Pinocchio 44% Which Disney Character is your Alter Ego? created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Existentialism. Your life is guided by the concept of Existentialism: You choose the meaning and purpose of your life. “Man is condemned to be free; because once thrown into the world, he is responsible for everything he does.” “It is up to you to give [life] a meaning.” --Jean-Paul Sartre “It is man's natural sickness to believe that he possesses the Truth.” --Blaise Pascal More info at Arocoun's Wikipedia User Page... Existentialism 100% Utilitarianism 85% Hedonism 85% Strong Egoism 40% Justice (Fairness) 40% Divine Command 25% Kantianism 25% Nihilism 20% Apathy 20% What philosophy do you follow? (v1.03) created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Congratulations! You are obsessive-compulsive! You know nothing curbs images of mutilating your mother like a good counting/checking/washing ritual... wait, DID you forget to turn off the stove??? Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder 83% Schizophrenia 75% Unipolar Depression 33% Antisocial Personality Disorder 33% Eating Disorders 33% Borderline Personality Disorder 25% Which mental disorder do you have? created with QuizFarm.com

yeah!

You scored as Charlies Angels. You are a kick ass girl! You and your friends are intimidating! Charlies Angels 92% A Cinderella Story 83% The Notebook 75% Legally Blonde 67% Mean Girls 25% What Chick Flick is just like Your Life? created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Marijuana. The most beautiful, chill drug out there. You want something that's not too harsh on your body, and soothes the soul. It's also not addicting, so smoke it up, baby! And never have to go through withdrawls. Marijuana 69% None! 56% Mushrooms 44% Alcohol 38% Inhalents 38% Ecstacy 25% Cocaine 19% What's your ideal drug? created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Bjork. You are the strange and elusive Bjork. A recovering drug addict, sometimes your lyrics are quite insane. You really need to tour the US soon. Bjork 63% Ani DiFranco 54% Tori Amos 54% Shirley Manson 52% Fiona Apple 44% Which angry female artist are you? created with QuizFarm.com

*They didn't have a "How Sarcastic Are You" quiz.

"One by one they fall, it always breaks me down...*"

Well, just when you think you might be starting to get a grip on things, it rains !#$% axle grease...
Wednesday night as Chris and I were driving back home from rehearsal something happened. Something broke, and I think it was me. I'm not sure exactly what triggered it. I was very tired, I'd had a couple of drinks, and the motion and sound of the car on the road, combined with the effect of the world spinning past my window has always inspired me or made me contemplative.
I started thinking about the rant I wanted to write the next day. I wanted to talk about how my childhood wasn't all bad, and so I started thinking back, trying to remember the good times. As I said yesterday, the problem with this new clarity is that it is that unusual "Sam-brand" clarity, that comes with smells, sounds, feelings - total recall, and the fact that the few good things that I could remember were surrounded by so much pain and misery that I was almost instantly crippled, first by recall, then by hysterical tears. I found that every good memory I could muster was either preceded or followed by (or entirely intertwined with) some bad connection - for example, the memory of my almost surreally wonderful fifth birthday was followed by the thought of every other thing that happened that year - and it was a very bad year, and yet still nothing compared to the horrors of my sixth year (there are a few funny stories from that year, but looking at them realistically, they were all centered around shocking cases of neglect, which I suppose in comparison to brutal mental and emotional abuse DOES seem pretty funny. Jesus Christ.) - and so it goes. Once I'd started down this grim memory lane, I couldn't stop. My mind dragged me through one horror after another, and instead of it being just a story memory, I found myself THERE again, remembering every sensation, smell, sound, and emotion. I tried to tell Chris how it felt to have this knowledge, this inescapable experience as an entire childhood (not just one or two or even ten - or even one hundred isolated events). And worse, how it feels to have seen your siblings, almost all younger than you, go through the same things.
I found that once I'd run out of tears and started dry-heaving, I first resorted to a sort of catatonic stupor, and then when my brain began to wake up, it immediately turned to its' oldest comfort - business. I began to think of a million things at once (fortunately - or un- my standard mode), a sketch I wanted to write, another I wanted to re-write, jewelry commissions I needed to do, etc. Of course one track of my million-track mind was also watching me do this, completely aware of my distraction technique, as well as all the other tracks - including the things I was trying so hard not to think about. Yes, I did think "Wow. I've got a pretty amazing brain..." but I also thought "Wow. This is scary..." And then I just went on to cope until I fell asleep. Things have been different since then. I feel like a human soap bubble. I feel like memory-wolves are stalking me. I feel totally lost and as if I am made up of nothing but pain. I can't sleep normally - I have to be in strange places, like the foot of the bed, the floor, or the couch, and I can't be under the covers. This is definitely an "easy flight" reaction - looking for someplace where I can feel safe, or escape easily. I feel tender all over, and I DEFINITELY don't want to be touched. Poor Chris.
And that's where it stands. I was finally able to talk about it in the light of day when I opened up in an e-mail to a close girlfriend (which, ironically enough, she never recieved) but I saved one draft of it, and she said it was ok to re-post some of it here.
None of you may care - and that's ok. I really can't blame you. But it helps me if I can spell/think it out. Something about the 'in-black-and-white' factor and the 'saying it out loud' factor makes it more real.
Here is the pertinent excerpt from my e to Andi.

"I've started to have total recall of my past, and it is kicking my ass. As much as I've always known what happened, I still didn't really remember it... Or I should say, I remembered it like a story that happened to someone else. All those years are finally starting to hit me like: "Shit. This all happened to ME." And it's !#$%ing me up very badly. I've realized a lot of pretty brutal things lately, past, present and future, and I'm truly stunned at how badly prepared I am to deal with all of it. I really get the feeling that I shouldn't be talking about it, if only because that makes me think about it even more, and I've also realized that it's something that can never be repaired. The part that can be repaired (hopefully) however, I think requires my talking about it, so I hope you will all bear with me. It's not the past that I need to talk about, but the overall fact that the only good memories I have for the first, say, 15-17 years of my life or so are (mostly) of hiding successfully, or of the few rare moments of charitable reprieve from the horrors. The times I've always thought of as the 'ok' times, are really just bridges where my memory was blank. I told Chris in the midst of a really bad breakdown last night that every moment of my childhood that I looked back on was like a flash from a bad horror movie. Even the "good" ones turned out, in the light of my adult, aware perspective on the bigger picture, to be sadder than any sane person could bear. Good thing I'm not sane, huh? *ha ha* :[
that's the problem, ultimately. I've realized that no sane person could take even SOME of the things I've experienced and live decently, much less ALL of it, and that the only reason I have is because I am just so !#$%ing strong. The problem is, I'm running out of strength. I've been sapped and sapped and sapped, and now I am finding that nothing can renew my strength fast enough. What's kept me from being another raving baglady or serious junkie has been my sheer force of will, and it's fading. I can feel it and see it everyday. I want to say that my love for my friends and their love for me is enough, but it isn't. Please don't take that the wrong way Andi, but I think if you really think about it, you can understand what I'm saying. Maybe if there were more connection, more time, more sharing, it would make a difference, but maybe it wouldn't. I don't know - and I certainly don't blame anyone but myself for any of that. I am responsible for the renewal of my spirit, and for how much love and goodness I soak up. I just didn't realize until very recently that I was running on patch-jobs and temporary charges. I think it's just that the horrible, terrible weight of the past has finally caught up with me.
The catch 22 situation with my health and my job is a huge factor too. I think my deep injuries have contributed seriously to my physical health problems, and that my health problems have contributed seriously to my inability to re-charge. Same goes with my job. Now I'm stressing over the fact that if I stay, I'll be sick and caged and miserable, and if I leave, I'll be broke and a burden and miserable.
There are no short, easy answers. I've had the best therapy; no one that I have ever known has worked harder and longer to defeat this kind of thing than I have. I've tried all the things that Buffy* (for example) might suggest, and the pure, simple fact of the matter is that there is more there than anyone, even my badass self, can handle.
I do know now that the reason I stay so busy, I work so hard, I create so prolifically, I burn midnight oil and two-ended candles like nobody's business (not to mention drink, smoke, flirt, etc.) is because it is all a distraction from this simple, brutal - and inescapable truth. The hard thing there is that my ability to distract myself from it (and indeed, my desire to do so, just because of the whole addiction/denial/putting-off-the-inevitable factor) is fading fast. I just don't know what I'm going to do Andi."

I'm really sorry that I can't be more hopeful right now, y'all. Believe me, I want to. And obviously, I haven't given up yet. I promise, you'll know beyond a shadow of a doubt when I have. I think my job right now is to just keep from exploding or breaking down, and try to figure out how I can re-charge my batteries. I know I can handle this, I have for 37 years already. But if I'm going to make it for another 37, I have to figure out how to renew my strength. If I can't, and soon, then it'll be all over but the crying - and anyone who might have the gall for saying I'm selfish to even say such a thing, needs to take a short stroll through my memories and then, before they apologize, they need to commend me on how I've even made it this long. 'Fact of the matter is, I've actually gotten to a place that I've never been to before, and that's a place where I just don't care. Nothing seems to be enough to give me hope right now, nothing seems to be able to shore up my will - not even the desire to keep those hateful, irresponsible, insane, selfish bastards who did this to me - to us - in the first place from WINNING. That's a very new place for me.
I've asked you all not to give up on me before, but now I have to say that if you do, I can't blame you. If you don't, I will be grateful, because I've discovered that I need more love than I ever thought I did; but ultimately, it may not make any difference, and I am more sorry about that than anyone.

MUCH everything,
-s

*from my favorite song by The Screaming Trees
**my very wise, level-headed sister-friend who is also a counselor.

-kinda' continued from yesterday's "Grey"...

Sometimes I fear that I’m just running around in circles. I know a lot of people in my family, and maybe even some of my friends think or wish that I would/could just let it all go, just forget the past and all the hurt and be happy. I know when I was about to go into therapy my mom said “Y’know, there’s this new kind of therapy where you just start from today and go forward, you just forget the past!” Then, when I’d been diagnosed and was about to enter River Oaks for treatment (following a breakdown I had on the trip home from my last visit to her house, “strangely” enough), she said, “It’s just a vitamin deficiency!” God, save me from that kind of guilt and desperation. If only our (humans’) faith and will was as strong as our denial sometimes…
Another family member told me fairly recently (last fall, I think) that my mom has “erased” me; that she says I don’t exist anymore. I know that the experiences that caused me so much pain and left permanent scars on my psyche, my body and my life don’t exist to her. She insists that those things never happened, that my memory is faulty, or that I am just lying to hurt her, and she is able to maintain that “truth” no matter what. In a way, I envy her the ability to make the things that hurt her and me just go away – including myself. I just have a hard time believing that it’s really possible. These things are such an intrinsic part of our lives. Whether we like it or not, they are a big part of what makes us who we are. I don’t know. Maybe she’s just stronger than me. Somehow though, that doesn’t ring true either. It may just be my perception – though I know that my friends, some of my family, the volunteers I lecture to at Steps to Hope, and the mental health professionals I’ve dealt with over the years say that I am the strong one, because I am brave enough to face the pain, the past and the truth. I think that when you don’t deal with the past, new pain comes from those old, untreated wounds. As much as the memories of the past hurt, none of that hurts as much as being a motherless child, or knowing that your mother says you don’t exist. That’s an injury that is new every day. Seeing my siblings struggling for sanity and healing in their own ways, knowing that they’ll be having their own struggles for the rest of their lives, and knowing that the damage our families did to us will always be an obstacle to our being a real family in our own rights. I struggle to be peaceful, and to try to wish people – even the people who hurt me – nothing but good, but I am who I am, and I think there will always be a part of me who wishes that I could just have one good go at beating my mother’s ass until I’m too tired to go on, and then when I’ve rested, resurrecting dad, grandpa and grandma and having a go at each of them until I feel better too. Yes, I know that it’s some pretty bad anger when you want to bring your loved ones back from the dead just to beat their asses, but hey, I’ve thought worse.

I can’t help but wonder what mom thinks about all of this. Can she really have forgotten everything that happened? Does she ever have dreams about it? Do everyday things ever trigger her memories of those times? Does she have panic attacks for “no reason”? Does she need “drugs” (prescribed or otherwise – the internet, reading, etc) to give her a cushion from the past? And I wonder about dad too. Did he feel guilt over the terrible things he did? He never hurt us, but he left us with people who did. He neglected us, let us slip through the cracks. For years, my feelings toward dad were untouchable. He was the good one, and that was that. But time and truth – and talking to my siblings about their feelings – told the real story. He could have done so much more for us. He could have taken us out of the hell that was our life with mother, and he could have taken better care of us when he had us. Sometimes I think that he chose death as just one more easy way out of his responsibility to us and to his mistakes in the past. One significant difference between him and mom is that I believe that dad loved us all. I think mom only ever cared for my oldest brother. In a way though, that almost hurts worse, because it’s easier to understand how someone who never loved you could hurt you. I’m sure mom believes that I think she’s the only villain in this sordid tale, but nothing could be further from the truth. As much as it hurts, I’m glad that I have a more realistic view of my other family members than I did when I was younger. I’d rather have pain and the truth than a false sense of happiness based on lies – and other people’s pain – any day (who’s the stronger one?). And it probably seems odd, but I can identify with mom’s perspective more than I can with any other adult (not siblings and cousins, I mean) in the family. I am more like her than I am any of the others, and I have spent more time thinking about the “why’s” and “how’s” of my relationship with her than any of the others. In a strange way, I feel more sympathy for her than for any of our other “grown-ups”. It’s sad and sickeningly ironic that none of this will ever matter.

One of the hardest things that I am going to have to learn to accept is that, ultimately, none of this will ever matter. With dad dead, and myself dead to mom, I have no choice but to try to stop wondering about their thoughts, feelings, reasons and deeds, and just accept that they were – and are – only able to love themselves and us so much. The end. As selfish as it may seem, I have no choice but to focus on my own raisons d’etre and try to heal without their help. That’s definitely nothing new, but that doesn’t change the fact that I will always miss them, or at least the dream of them. It would be so much easier if we could help each other, those of us who are left, but I know that’s no more than a dream either. It’s time to face up to the fact that I have been alone in this since I was born, and though my siblings suffered too, they were alone in their own way as well, and that, to some extent, we always will be. Chris loves me, his family loves me, and I love them, but there will always be a kind of wall. I won’t walk away from new friends and “family” because of this – that would be stupid, and that’s one thing I’m not – but I have to learn to love myself enough to fill in the empty spaces, because the fact of the matter is that no one else will ever be able to.

So many things are affected by the shadows of my past. The way I watch movies and listen to music; the reason I love the clothes and art and landscapes that I do; my dreams, my beliefs, and the way I judge people. I have noticed that I am harder on any of my friends who are parents than anyone in our circle. I am very quick to anger when I feel that a friend is being a neglectful parent, even if only in thought if not deed. I know that I have huge obstacles to overcome if I am ever going to be the person I want to be, and that makes me angry too. These days, it seems that it all comes down to a whole lot of anger. That sucks – but it still beats hopelessness. I just wish that I could make people see these things about me, so that they can understand my judgmental nature*, my temper, my “moodiness” and obsession with the past, and be patient with me while I am trying to grow and change.
God, I feel like THE eternal teenager. Ugh. :)
At the very least, I can lay my head down each night, knowing that I am not hiding from the pain and the truth (which, unfortunately, are the same thing sometimes), that I am trying to become a better person and hopefully make the world a better place in the meanwhile, and that I am not passing this madness on to another generation. I may be sad, I may be impossible to live with sometimes, impossible to love at others – and to quote Miss Celie: “I’m pore, I’m black, I may be ugly and can’t cook… But I’m here." – I’m here. And to quote the author, Ms. Walker: “Don't wait around for other people to be happy for you. Any happiness you get you've got to make yourself.” Amen!

I’ll leave you all with some more incredibly relevant quotes from this favorite author of mine, and a promise of more ponderings when I can handle it.

“Being happy is not the only happiness.”

“And so our mothers and grandmothers have, more often than not anonymously, handed on the creative spark, the seed of the flower they themselves never hoped to see -- or like a sealed letter they could not plainly read.”

“How simple a thing it seems to me that to know ourselves as we are, we must know our mothers names.”

“No person is your friend (or kin) who demands your silence, or denies your right to grow and be perceived as fully blossomed as you were intended.”

“I think we have to own the fears that we have of each other, and then, in some practical way, some daily way, figure out how to see people differently than the way we were brought up to.”

“The most important question in the world is, ‘Why is the child crying?’”

“For in the end, freedom is a personal and lonely battle; and one faces down fears of today so that those of tomorrow might be engaged.”

“The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any.”

“What the mind doesn't understand, it worships or fears.”

“Nobody is as powerful as we make them out to be.”

“Writing saved me from the sin and inconvenience of violence.”

“Life is better than death, I believe, if only because it is less boring, and because it has fresh peaches in it.” :) [Amen, sistah!]

“I try to teach my heart not to want things it can't have.”

“Expect nothing. Live frugally on surprise.”

Much love – and some peaches,
-s


*the tarot card for my birthday is in fact Judgement. Its’ meaning is:
“It is time for the seeker to look back and evaluate his or her life or a phase in life. [weee-eee-ee-ooooo!] This card represents closure and a sense of summing up what he or she has achieved during the phase that is ending. It is a card of powerful transformative energy [huzzah!]. It also signifies a time of rebirth, a cleansing of burdens and past mistakes, before moving on [!!!]. This is also the card of Karma – of reaping what we sow. One should be aware of how their actions effect others. To a great extent, it can represent awakening to the call of your destiny or an effort to understand your higher purpose. [whoah!] It also represents a judgment in a legal matter.
Reverse - Phobias, obsessions. Denying the truth of the matter. Procrastination. Using obstacles as an excuse for not changing. Stagnation. Divorce. Vain attempts to recapture youth or the past. Letting life pass you by. Failure to face facts. (freaky, eh?)

Grey

Hello faithful readers. Today marked my return to the so-called “real world”. I have only cried a couple of times in the last two weeks on thinking of returning to The Red Tape Factory, but today on the way here I started crying at the thought of crawling back onto the microscope slide – even before I turned on the radio and heard:
“…she feels like kicking out all the windows and setting fire to this life…*”

Once I was actually there I was calm, and happy to see some of those familiar, truly beloved faces. Fortunately, the ones I dreaded seeing were not in evidence, leaving me a quiet first day back in which to wheeze in peace. The second I stepped in the door I could smell the ‘sickie-funk’, and within minutes I had to hit the inhalers (for only the second time this month). The migraine started within five minutes and I had no choice but to open the doors to let the fresh air in. (HOORAY for spring and Midrin!)

So many things have occurred to me over this last month. It’s hard to convince one’s self and those close to you that it’s a good thing, though, when all this thought has left me sadder than ever. I’m sure that the chemical re-alignment of my system has a lot to do with that too. I’ve been on so many mood-altering psychoactive chemicals (all of which I’d kicked either before or during this time off) for so long that it took the better part of the month to realize which feelings were mine and which were –ic’s, -il’s, -ol’s, and –ine’s. One of the hardest realizations I’ve had to come to is that one particular prescription – the one I’ve been on the longest, 21 years – has been protecting me from a huge amount of pain. Everything that happened to me during those first fifteen years - truly the worst and hardest part of my life - and then all the things that happened after that (a lot of it pretty terrible, too) has always seemed a bit distant. The only time I’ve ever really come close to feeling the weight of all that pain was when I was in River Oaks, and had people around me who were trained to help me cope with it. They also took me off of all my prescriptions, and basically forced me to look at the past and all of the hurt and anger. Other than that small amount of time when I was completely unmedicated, as well as sober, all of my memories have always seemed as if they’d happened to someone else. I know that this is part of the whole ‘DID’ experience, but even when that ceased to be my problem, the cushion of meds and self-prescribed palliatives kept me at an emotional distance, even when I was talking deeply and seriously to people I trusted.
Now, I’ve come to a place in my life where my age and mind-frame combined with a mostly clear head (21 years is a long time) is causing me to have a fairly shocking emotional awakening. I didn’t make the choice to be chemical free for this reason. I mainly decided that for my health, and for some additional clarity regarding my depression, that this would be the best thing to do. My doc agreed. We have tried so many different drugs in the last year that I had no idea what was really going on in my head. When I asked if I could get off of the drugs and start with a clean slate, since this month off was supposed to be all about my health anyway, he agreed – as long as I kept him posted and was sure to be aware of any changes – especially drastic ones. Luckily, there’s been nothing serious. My depression has been no worse than “normal”, and thank god, the hallucinations have stopped. So far, that is truly the worst side effect I’ve ever had***. The doc said that he didn’t think it was a result of the last head-med, but I’m pretty sure that it was. Either way, the “acid cats & people” and weird (-er than usual) noises have taken a hiatus. In a way though, I’d almost rather have that than this bizarre emotional clarity.
For so long, all the things I’ve talked about to my friends and loves ones – the mental, emotional and sexual abuse; the neglect; the abandonment – have been sort of ‘not quite real’. This added to my self doubt, especially in the face of my mother and other family members suggesting (or even swearing) that it was all fiction. I knew it was real, and my brother confirmed it to the family during my stay in River Oaks, but it didn’t feel real, and that led me to wonder at times if I wasn’t really making it up, for some horrible, !#$%’d up reason. Needless to say, that added to my misery (not to mention my dependence on these prescriptions), and made me feel even more hopeless and lost. I have said to myself and to others many times over the years as I was telling these horror stories: “I know it doesn’t sound possible. It’s hard to believe myself sometimes…” My husband – and probably others as well - never could accept it as the truth, not because they thought I would lie about it, but because it’s hard for some people to accept that such things can happen. I suppose it worked on me that way too.
Now, however, it seems that I am beginning to be able to truly feel the pain and anger that I’ve been cushioning myself against all these years. When I think about the things that happened, I feel sad, I cry, I feel angry. I am finding that so many things in my day-to-day life are related to these memories, even if I am consciously unaware of it.
The first really strange realization came when Chris and I were looking in a friends’ very well-stocked fridge. They had lots of good “special groceries” (prosciutto, gnocchi, capers, leeks, etc.) as well as all the basics, including potatoes. For some reason we were talking about this to another friend later and I said that I felt that I deprived Chris because I never have potatoes. He looked thoughtful for a second and then said “Weird. You don’t! You never have potatoes!” He knows I like to eat them, and they’re a cheap, versatile, filling staple, but they are never in my fridge. I buy and cook yams fairly often, and I buy them when my friends request my famous potato salad, but otherwise, my house is potato-free. When Chris asked why, I realized I didn’t know.
The conversation went on to something more interesting, and they forgot about it, but I didn’t. I don’t like it when I don’t understand something seemingly basic about myself, and so I’ll retreat to the inner layers of the Onion Girl** and search until I find an answer. When we got in the car I told Chris that I knew why, and I went on to tell him about one of the worst periods of my generally horrible childhood, and about my grudge against the storage and preparation of potatoes. I won’t bore you all with the details, but I will say that I was six or seven (no older, for sure) and my sibling were even younger, and if you’ve ever had to dig and wash potatoes seemingly endlessly, especially as a punishment, or a way to keep you locked out of the house, then you know that it’s a job that no small child should be forced to do. I also had bad mnemonic connections with the place where we stored the potatoes, but I definitely don’t won’t to go there right now.
Strange, I know, and I’m sure that some people might say it was silly, but I suppose you had to be there – and yet I’m honestly glad that you weren’t. I wish I hadn’t been, and that’s the truth.
How “funny” though, that something so small and yet so intrinsic to your daily life can be hidden from you. And how strange that you could have such pain, and have no name or face for it, until your brain “unfreezes” and someone asks you the right question one day.

So, needless to say, I’m dealing with a lot of “new” pain right now. Things that I’ve said out loud a dozen times that never hurt me, now bring tears at just the thought. I’m finding hidden, unspoken anger at every turn, too. I wanted to believe that all those years of therapy and the time in River Oaks – not to mention all the exploration I’ve done since - had brought all of it out into the light, but I think that, basically, I just built a window. Not that that’s anything to sneeze at (ew! Get the Windex!), but all the same, it’s hard to realize that I’m almost just starting again. I have to tell myself that, at least I am not still that little girl, crying in the dark, confused, hopeless, terrified, lost. But I have to tell you, she’s still there, and those feelings have never gone away. I am beginning to realize that I may never be able to forgive my parents – either of them – or any of the people who knew what was happening and didn’t do anything to help us. I’m beginning to realize that nothing or no one were what they seemed when I was little. I’m beginning to realize that there is a huge difference between people who were loved and cared for as children and people who weren’t, and that some terrible handicaps are completely invisible, and so very difficult for those handicapped, as well as the rest of the world to deal with . I’m beginning to realize that no one I know – with the exceptions of my siblings, possibly – can truly understand me, and that will be another kind of handicap that I will always have to deal with. And worst of all, I am beginning to realize that I will probably have to deal with this pain, and the specialized loneliness that it brings for the rest of my life – and that this is just the beginning…

Sorry. The truth hurts. I can only hope it hurts all of you less than it hurts me, and whether any of us like it, I will talk more about this later. I need to, I’m grateful that I have a “safe” (and inexpensive/guilt-free) way to do it, and I’m especially grateful that so many people love and trust me, despite the fact that I am such damaged goods.

Much love,
-s

*Grey Street - Dave Matthews
Oh, look at how she listens, She says nothing of what she thinks... she just goes stumbling through her memories staring out onto grey street. But she thinks hey, how did I come to this?I dreamed myself a thousand times around the world but I can't get out of this place. There's an emptiness inside herand she'd do anything to fill it in but all the colors mix together to grey and it breaks her heart. How she wishes it was different. She prays to God most every night and though she swears he doesn't listen, there's still a hope in her he might. She says, I pray, but they fall on deaf ears. Am I supposed to take it on myself to get out of this place? There's an loneliness inside her and she'd do anything to fill it in and though it's red blood bleeding from her now it feels like cold blue ice in her heart when all the colors mix together to grey and it breaks her heart. There's a stranger speaks outside her door, says take what you can from your dreams, make them as real as anything. Oh, with it, take the work out of the courage. And she says please, there's a crazy man, he's creeping outside my door. I live on the corner of grey street and the end of the world. There's an emptiness inside her and she'd do anything to fill it in and though it's red blood bleeding from her now it's more like cold blue ice in her heart. She feels like kicking out all the windows and setting fire to this life. It could change every thing about her using colors, bold and bright, but all the colors mix together to grey and it breaks her heart.
**Crowgirl calls me Onion Girl sometimes, even prior to the "ogres have layers" and "state of the onion" stuff. If you've ever read the story, you'll know why.
***ugh, other than horrible codeine sickness, but we won’t go there… puuuuuuuuuuke!

state of the onion address:

well, to be perfectly frank, how bad could it be. i'm sitting three feet from the terribly handsome (and equally silly) ken sitton who is amusing chris and brett by letting them beat him badly in magic. i started my day with a nice walk downtown with luna and george*. chris met us at the coffee shop after he got off work, and then we went down to say hi to his folks who were working at the theatre for super saturday, which is a big children's festival. we ran into kat, molly, risa and the twinks - lena and anna. since they were there, and the entertainment looked good, we decided to hang out a bit. we saw a great mime**, and then while everybody else went to an improv show, i did a big mural on the street in sidewalk, of a GIANT child peering through the bushes (along with a bad tabby cat), in awe of fairies (the size of children) at play. we had a hotdog, watched the "parade"***, then went home. chris slept and i worked a little, then i got a call to come and rescue a friend with DMS**** chris hauled us all over to fairview, and they played cards while i KoL'd, checked e's and blogged a little (ta-da!)
this was my first day to be able to walk comfortably since i sprained my ankle two weeks ago, so i took advantage of it. my body hurt when i walked, because i'm not used to being hobbled for so long, but i am going to walk every day 'til i go back to YKW, because i NEED to, and because i love it. i'm working some this week and next week (pet and baby sitting), so i am making up some of the income i'm losing. i've designed some more nice jewelry, i got to talk to jams for a good long while, we've written another, much tighter show, and we start rehearsals for wednesday tomorrow. yay. there's some good stuff.
i'm happy to say that, for the most part, this has been my life for the last two weeks. god, i don't want to go back into the pits. i've only had ONE asthma attack since i left... i've made a lot of change in the house. my workroom is set up, the living room is much nicer (both thanks to chris, who moved everything for me). i've visited with friends, watched some movies, cooked a little... AND SAW ADAM(!!!), who is home on leave from iraq. he surprised chris and i on our veg-out day last thursday! we(shaun and gavin came over too) had a blast. no one was injured in the celebration, but jager-bombs (a foul combo of jagermeister and red bull) were consumed. yesh. well, it was worth it. there's still more to do, more to see, less than two weeks left. i intend to make the most of it, dadgummit. :)

i only had a moment to drop in, but i wanted to fill folks in while i had a pc available. think me good thoughts. i need them. i will send them on in a big, wide circle, they'll come back to you.
MUCH love,
-s

*i put him in his little mesh tote and carried him on my back.
**believe it or not!
***there were about 20 people marching - including the band. molly said you couldn't even enjoy that parade if you were DRUNK!
****Dickhead Man Syndrome.

Blogging from a different place...

Today has been another one of those days that proves to me that there really is something to quantum physics. So many weird things that could only be explained by the fact that my particular reality is influenced by my thoughts - or particular ability to BELIEVE. You can call it vanity, or even insanity, but I know that it’s just perception. Lately, it seems that I have more of those kinds of days than any others. Yay me! Maybe I’m getting closer, each day, to waking up.

This morning I saw the #1 WORST hair salon name so far. It’s not even a bad pun** - it’s just
"Hair Den". Eew.
I also saw hundreds and hundreds of some pretty birds in the fields along Scriven road, in the valley. They were on the ground, and as I passed, they flew up, past Esme’s windshield, into the trees on the left side of the road. The ones who stayed stood stone still in the winter grass, looking almost like little penguin statues. I parked and got out to try to identify them, and as I walked along the fence row, they broke their freeze-tag poses and flew over my head. They looked a little like robins, but their breasts were rustier, their heads were smaller and their heads and backs were much darker and glossier than a robins’, and they had bright white flashes under tail and wings. They looked like very proper little English gentlemen in russet "wescots", tux and tails.
Any time I see birds - especially in large numbers - I go off on a contemplative tangent. It’s like the moon - it always means something to me, and it always feels like a gift from the Universe. After that, just as I was about to leave my beloved backroad and enter "highway-land", I looked up, above the cemetery where my friends and old neighbors William and Osa are buried, and saw a swooping flock of my beloved starlings. Now that's a strange sight on a cold day like today. I was still considering the "general omenry"*** of that sighting, when I walked into the Dollar General and heard "Meatloaf" playing over the store speakers. This is odd because a.) I don’t think I’ve EVER heard "Meatloaf" as muzak, and b.) I JUST borrowed "Bat Out of Hell" from Stewart because X had never heard "Paradise by the Dashboard Light". He heard me singing this the other day and had a hard time believing that it was a real song. Who could blame him? I also borrowed "School Daze", ‘cause he had the same question when he heard me singing "...Luna’ got a big-ole’ butt, oh yeah! George’ got a big-ole’ butt, oh yeah!" a few days ago.

Next, I stopped in for my free Tuesday cuppa at the old Amoco, and "Blinded by the Light" was playing. Not so weird - unless you know a few odd facts: I love that song. ‘Have since I was about 12. I didn’t even know that Bruce Springsteen did the original until Stewart told me a while back. I also love Bruce****, so I was curious. I’d never heard the song, didn’t even know it existed (and I remember songs almost better than anything else...) Until Stewart told me, and here it is, playing at the Amoco. Cool. I also saw in the papers that the !#$% Landrum po-lice
are having all sorts of troubles. Oh darn! Apparently it has gotten so bad, with people coming forth about all kinds of quackery - including officers ratting out OTHER officers (WOOO!!!), that they are now down to THREE uniformed officers. MUWAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!!!!

- For those of you who don’t know, I was arrested and put through a night (and then ensuing WEEKS) of horrible misery by this bunch of greedy morons. I was originally taken to jail for STEALING MY OWN !#$% TRUCK.
I know it’s wrong to revel in the misery of others, but in this one case, I feel I’ve earned the right.
!#$% the !#$%-!&*^%$! LANDRUM PO-LICE!

In other news, George has completely recovered from his little surgery. By that evening, he was already tearing stuff up again. He seems relatively unchanged by the removal of his... bits. The only seeming difference is that he is much more affectionate, and has developed a new way of letting you know that he wants to be petted. First he nudges your hand, tries to get his head under it. Then, if you ignore that, he bites down on it. Not too hard, but it’s a clear message. The first night he did this, I was trying to sleep, and when I ignored his little volley of hand-bites, he bit me on the cheek. Otherwise, the little weasel is unchanged. This is, overall, a good thing, but I can’t WAIT ‘til he’ll be able to go outside.

In other news, I did get my 30 days of med-leave from work (UN-paid. Grr.) . I am to use the time to try to get my immune-system bolstered and to clean and organize Casa de Luna, so that I can reduce the dust as much as possible. I have a pretty busy month planned. I have only been off two days (and sick with some upper-respiratory junk that all the kids have had), but I have already made some good headway on the house. We got Grover to come get the spare bed* and I am turning that front bedroom into a work/storage room. All of my tubs (full of books and art supplies, mainly) will be stacked in there, and all my sewing & beading stuff will go in there. The dining room table (which I’ve always used as an art table) will go in there to hold my sewing machine, and to bead on, and my drawing table and a tabouret will go in the dining room. X and I eat on tv trays or on the porch anyway, so if we have company, we’ll just pull the dining table out of the "work room". I’ve washed all the linens - our bed, spare bed, luna bed - towels and rugs, cleaned the fridge, grocery shopped, and X and I cleaned an rearranged the spare room to make room for the max number of tubs and the table. Weeee!
I have a lot planned, both work- and fun-wise. I have set aside days to bead, to visit and/or help friends with a few projects, to adventure, draw, clean, etc. I have a cooking schedule, and an exercise schedule. I’ll actually have to pay attention to the weather reports, ‘cause I’ll need to know if I’m going to have an inside or outside exercise day. Words really can’t explain how happy I am to be out of the toxic fishbowl for a month - paid or un. I’ll be using up all my leave, sick AND vacation, but the bills are covered, and Chris paid for gas and groceries, so we’ll be ok. Hopefully I’ll have enough jewelry and art by the end of the month (not counting the commissions I’ve taken on), to make up for the loss of income. It’s worth WHATEVER to be able to see the birds in the daylight, walk with Luna, and get my house clean. One of my goals this month is to walk the length of River Road. Another is to see all my nearest/dearest girlies.
(Yes, Andi, Buffy, Carol, Erin, Heather, Jen, Liz, Sarah - this means YOU.) I have a couple of lunch and dinner dates planned as well, and I am scheduling at least one evening of Canastaphe with Peggy. YAAAAY, ME!!!!!!!!!!
Please call me and set us some play/work time, ok? Take advantage of "rent-a-sam" days while you can!!!
I’ll only have access to a pc occasionally. Sarah is sweet enough to let me borrow her house while she’s at The Coal-Mines. (Hey Sarah... I’M IN YOUR HOU-OOUUUUSSSSSEEE!!!)
My blogs will be intermittent (not to mention e’ing). Hopefully I’ll be able to make up for the erratic postings by having good things to SAY.
Ok. Enough inside time today. I still have a couple of errands to run, and the weather is actually only ikky and cold, as opposed to !#$% horrible, so I’m gunna go carpe some diem while the carpe’ing’s good.

MUCH love,
-s

*yes, if you come visit now, you’ll either be on the couch or on an air mattress... anybody got a spare air-mattress, btw? ;)
**at least, I think it isn’t... could it possibly be an EXTREMELY bad play on "harridan"? Ug.
***Thank you, Mr. Pratchett.
****I KNOW. Shut up!