Let Me Enjoy

God, please let me rest. Please, no more pain.

I Cant Remember

I am haunted by images and feelings that have no faces, no meanings. I know who didnt like me but still I cant place their face as perpetrator. This is before time had meaning and thoughts were just pictures. Words werent fully known and not assigned to their rightful place in my mind. I hear crying, yelling, berating, some of it me. I remember being held under water in the bath tub and scared beyond imagination. I was beat repeatedly and there is no face to blame. I remember in my small mind pleading for mercy without words. Night after night I was held down in bed barely being able to breathe and as I always explain it, "climbing an endless wall of blankets". The nights were also time for nightmares and devils coming out of the black hallway, evil laughing from space somewhere. My mother was later identified as one of the perps, But I cant imagine she did it all, because I was hardly ever with her. She gave me to whoever would take me, a neighbor, an uncle, grandma, babysitter. I remember countless houses as plain as day, but not one thing that occured within them. I could take you to them even now if they still exist. How can I remember so clearly going there and nothing else? I know that my moms side of the family were all against me. I suffered constantly whenever I was with any one of them. I remember boredom, fear, and humiliation beyond measure. I would literally be physically ill when I was to be in their care. My stuffed animals became my protectors and I drowned in them at night. Maybe if the mean ones couldnt find me amongst all those animals, I would be OK. One in particular was my champion, a very large purple poodle that my good grandma gave me to hug when I was hurting. Purple poodle became my safety amulate against all evil and if I hugged it tight enough, maybe it would all go away. That poodle was the butt of many jokes and teasing by the mean ones. It hurt me to have purple poodle treated badly.
The images of things, some of them genital, haunt me still. I will wake up gasping for air with the kind of fear one would have just before death. It continued in life as panic attacks that had no end. The sadness too continued. I dont ever remember being truly and purely happy like childhood is supposed to be. This continued on as depression so deep and dark, I couldnt find my way out of it. Anger also developed later and I became the perpetrator to friends and animals. I tore up every baby doll I ever had because I hated them so much. But I knew this was wrong, so I removed myself from the stimulus and the situation. I was afraid of myself, afraid of what I might do, afraid of what I might become. Life was never normal for me and I dont even know what normal feels like. Everything I know today, I taught myself because there wasnt any help for me. Most people dont even know my history, and when they ask why I am this way, Im at a loss as what to say. Ive been judged, hated, and feared by people who dont even know me. Ive been punished for things I didnt do. And the depression is ever present.
Maybe something can be learned from this posting. Think again that a child wont remember something because theyre too little. Think again that even one bad incident wont haunt them for the rest of their life. Many will be left perplexed as to why they are the way they are, with no faces or meaning behind it. They will think they are just inherently bad and start living up to their self image. They will recieve outside reinforcement from everyone around them that yes, they are indeed very bad and strange. They wont be able to argue this point because they wont remember anything except nightmares and demons. Maybe my gift is to be a voice for these children.

End Of Poverty

I was reading an article about how to end poverty. Midway through it, I had to angrily and sadly throw it down. It stated that God loves me and all I have to do is trust this. I believe in God. I am not an athiest, but I got more uncomfortable as I continued to plough through the article. I wondered what was upsetting me so, and it hit me, I dont believe God loves me. I just couldnt swallow that idea. I dont feel it, I dont see it, I dont believe it. To me proof is in the pudding. Ive never been given pudding. To say to me that just being alive is proof God loves me, doesnt hold water. I havent been happy about being alive most of my life. So thats shot down. I suffer everyday dealing with depression and bi poler. You will say to me that Im exagerating. I am not. It is inpainful to be in this body, literally. I often think that if people knew how much pain I was in, they wouldnt understand how I can deal with it days upon days and not do myself in. I have to, because thats what I believe Im here for. To endure, for whatever crazy twisted reason God, or my high self has. Yes, this is what I believe. Also, I believe it is wrong to kill yourself.
How can I change this? Ive tried everything. My core belief is that my Father in heaven doesnt care enough about me to give me happiness. Everything that is given, is taken away, so I dont trust anything or anybody. I allowed myself to think that finally I got my reward, my house, after wanting a home all my life. I began trusting it that yes, this was really true. Then everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. No amount of praying did any good. Now Im back in the cesspool where I began. Talent has done me no good. Neither has intelligence done me any good. I just understand my pain more deeply and completely. Thats what any gifts I might have, has got me. It leaves me feeling dead and a fool for wanting anything.
If believing God loves me is the end of poverty, then I have a problem.

Hypocrite

As I sit here eating my chicken, I contemplate my hypocrisy. Im against killing or abusing any animal for any reason. Hmm, whats wrong with this picture? I hate it that I believe I have to eat flesh. I despise myself for it. Ive tried many times to be a strict vegetarian and failed every time. You see, I get sick. My mental illness wallops me over the head, and the only fix is to eat pure non carbohydrate protein. Works right away, so I know thats what the problem is. No, its not just in my head. How could it be when theres nothing I want more than to stop eating meat. I literally cry when I think of animals getting killed for food. I feel like a reluctant vampire who has nothing but love in its heart, and yet must feed on human blood to survive. The self disgust I feel is at times overwelming. And yet if it came down to killing an animal myself versus dying, I would choose death. I will not kill anything for any reason other than defense of self or others. This is a real spiritual dilemma for me, because I believe it is a matter of spirituality and evolvement. Even though I truly believe this, I cant fault anyone else for eating meat either. This is a true conundrum for me and I really do not know how to deal with my hypocritical self. Yes, it does add to my depression. I feel really bad about it. The thing is we are all animals. And we are also spiritual beings having an animal experience. Its got me confused. How about you?

Next Question

I will refer to my "How To Think Like Leonardo...." book, when Im at a loss for what to blog about. The question: What is one thing I could stop doing, or start doing, or do differently, starting today that would most improve the quality of my life?
Without question it is to lose weight. Not purely for vanity reasons (believe me, I am vane enough!), but for a whole myriad of other reasons. Health: cholesterol would go down, chances of heart attack reduced, and in every other way would it improve my health. Some days I feel horrible. Some days its even hard to breathe. And also the worry of what could go wrong due to weight would be gone.
Self esteem: Heres the vane thing again. I certainly would feel more like getting dressed up, putting on the spackle and war paint, and get out there in the world to do what needs to be done. Do what I want to do. I was thin all my life. I never had to worry about weight, could eat whatever I wanted and how much I wanted. At about 42, that gradually flew out the window. I started taking meds for bi poler then and some people will say thats why, I dont know. I cant stop the meds, so there has to be another solution.
I would feel better: not quite about health. I would feel lighter, brighter, have more energy, and I believe less depression. I might be able to truly love myself, probably for the first time in my life.
Clothes and dressing would no longer be an issue. I could shop anywhere again, throw anything on and look good, feel comfortable. I could be more in fashion, which I always was.
If I could stay on a diet, I would lose weight, plain and simple. Ive dieted and was indeed losing weight. My depression always got the better of me and I just couldnt stay on the plan. At least I knoe that its not impossible for me to lose weight. Thats a mountain climbed already. Many people dont believe this or there is a medical reason why weight cant be shed. Not a problem for me.
So, without a doubt, losing weight would be the single most thing that would improve my life the most. Ok, so where did I put that banana and beer diet book. lol

Trying to find my way through

Being bi poler, and being it on mostly the depressive side, it is a constant battle to stay balanced. I really am not balanced hardly ever. Its more like Im either on my way up, or on my way down. That golden balance point is rarely achieved for long. It is a very hard day for me today, and Im doing everything I can think of to get out of it. Reading a book that has something to do with what Im going through is one of those fixes.Today Im reading the Hormone Connection by Gale Maleskey and Mary Kittel, a Prevention Health Book. It tells me to take certain vitamins, minerals, and nutrients, which I do. And also I read a section about being too sensitive. That would be me, and all of my life I was that. It says Im in a position of emotional leadership! Hows That! Wow, makes me feel good. I never looked at it that way. It also goes on to say that I notice more subtleties and process information more deeply. And I thought that was a bad thing. I now see this as a gift and an asset. Theres nothing I enjoy more than drawing someone out of their emotional shell. To share the human experience honestly and totally. I seem to be able to do that in all cases, even the tough nuts that are hard to crack. This is a precious gift and I have suffered terribly in my life so that I could fine tune it even more. This section on sensitivity was an excerpt in the above mentioned book taken from The Highly Sensitive Person, by Elaine N. Aron, Ph.D.
In trying to keep this somewhat art related, I will say Ive been working on a bluebird watercolor painting, and its taking forever to complete. It should take 3 days at the very most. But Im dealing with this mood disorder that affects every aspect of my life. Ill keep whacking away on it and will share it when its done. Now back to my book.