Don't Tread On Me

I used to choose my relationships so poorly, because I never felt that I mattered as much as other people did. It took me a long time, and some exes who treated me badly, to finally learn these lessons.

They never got me. They never will. There is so much more to me than what they saw, than what they wanted me to be for them. So much more, past the cowed, past the insecure crumble, way beyond the victim, so far beyond the pleaser, and the weak, tear-stained crier. Just so much more inside, that they never even recognized. Pity- them, they couldn't handle it. They never recognized my FIRE. And I do have fire. It may have been dampened but it never went out. Now it burns brighter all the time.

Past relationships, they were always so dependent on me being that girl... that ''fucked up girl"... so much more easily controlled that way. And for so long it seemed easier to just give in. But guess what, the girl was not quite as fucked up as they counted on. She finally learned, kicked the damagers to the curb, and she found a tiny little foundation... it was enough to begin building a life on.

The slightest hope, the smallest belief, that I was worth more than how I had been treated, that's what it took to get started... the realization: "I'm better than that, oh Hell yes, I am...." and so it begun. A life was built, by and by. And it was so hard. But I did it. And the right people found me when it was the right time and place, when I took a stand against being treated like trash and held those in my life to higher standards. I don't need the bottom feeders, the ones who yell, the drunken idiots without control over themselves, the insecure, the controllers, the egocentric. All I ever really needed was me... because yes, it's true, I really can take care of myself! Whatever comes after is a bonus.

I'm so much better now. In a place that can't be ransacked. No one to call me a bitch. No one to hurt me in so many other ways, or with so many other words. No one to hit me in the face, no one to leave their bruises on my body. No one takes me for granted anymore. No one to intimidate me. I have not allowed myself to be put down by a man, or made to feel inferior by one, or been called any names by one, for years now. Because I don't, and never did deserve that... whatever the case may have been. And I would never take that kind of treatment again. So I piss you off? Discuss it like an adult. Be calm. Keep your cool. DON'T HIT (or push, or grab, or threaten, or scream at) GIRLS. This is something most people have learned at a young age and it shouldn't have to be repeated.

They wouldn't understand this, of course. They can't. Nothing beyond the surface layers ever mattered to them. It was always about their control and their egos. About shaping their twist on 'me'. But they forgot that there was more, so much more, to a human being... and so much more to me. Oh well, they never had the balls to go there, to join me there, as equals, did they? They were more interested in being the superior party who always dictated everything, while I held off the rushes. And gave in, in every other way.

Well now, fuck that.

Life should never have to be that way. We all have that strength inside of us to stand up for ourselves and to be respected. I live on my own now, in my own place. And I do what it takes to maintain it. I am not some hanger-on. I do what I need to do to take care of my family. I will persevere, in that regard. Bet on that. I am not rich, money-wise. But I am rich in a million other ways, and money does not mean everything, it comes, it goes. What stays is what you are left with... and what is left of you. Don't ever let anyone mess with that.

It is more valuable than gold <3

go be a snake

Life. Life life life life. What the Hell. Last time I posted here with the utmost naivete... talking about happiness with such simplicity... like it was ever that easy? It never is. And that's the beauty of it, in retrospect. Right?

As I write this I am not sober... I am riding on a warm lovely wave of drunken buzziness that tingles my limbs and lubricates my brain... lately I am learning to love myself so much, and also to be easier on myself, and to take care of myself. And to recognize the BULLSHIT. And to call it out when I see it. Last time I posted here I had a 'boyfriend'. A 24-year old, motorcycle-racing, death-defying, drug-snorting boyfriend. And wtf was I thinking on that one? Yeah. 35-year-old midlife crisis insanity... riding on the back of a bike at 195 mph... playing with guns and snakes and all manner of dangerous things that I would normally have a much healthier sense of respect for... who knows what I was thinking? But I straightened my shit and dumped the loser, and I got it together again. Dumbass Shady!

Right now I am in such a state of pureness... so in touch with myself. I am in love with life. I am letting myself go. I am feeling it all. Yeah yeah fuckers I know- you're all like "daaaaamn she's so wasted right right now!" ... and yeah, I am! But I am being sincere. Life is good. Life is worth living. It really is.

So last post I mentioned that I had inherited a pet snake- a 4 foot+ bull snake- and last week, I walked out into the desert and set him free. I watched him slither into the sandy desert floor, watched him feeling his freedom at last... and I told him, "Go be a snake, old man"... and he sidewinded off into the wild. It was fucking beautiful.
I let a little piece of myself go with him, into the wild, into freedom. Viva!

blogging into the void

Is this thing on? Can anybody hear me? *tap tap tap*

Blogging is both the easiest and the hardest thing for me to do. Easy, because I have always been a sort of human vessel that just pours forth everything that filters through me... it's very hard for me to self-edit, I just sort of spit out whatever it is that I am thinking or feeling without restraint. Always have.

And hard- because I am showing a very intimate side of myself when I write... despite all the fluffier pieces here and there about movies and fashion and other distractions, I am a person with a lot of serious baggage to handle, I've been through some very hard things, and exposing my life honestly & openly to the world is scary and intimidating. It's very easy to imagine how people might judge me about my clinical depression and my health problems, or my feelings about my little sister's murder and her murderer, or my other various trials and tribulations.

A big part of the reason I continue posting about these personal things like depression and loss is because I know there are people out there who are going through the same crap I am, who feel all alone, and who are afraid to talk about it openly. I hope to give those people some kind of sense that they are not alone. As for everyone else, I'm just hoping to maybe inform and entertain a little or just make 'em smile on occasion.

But the hardest thing about blogging is to keep going on when there is little or no feedback. Without comments, I have no idea if anyone is even reading this. Am I just throwing words into the world wide universe? Or are you guys lurking out there?

Previously, I blogged regularly for7 years before taking a break, so I am familiar with the frustration of receiving little feedback- it happens. And as a reader of blogs myself, I understand that lurking is not personal, I do it sometimes, too (though I have recently made a conscious decision to actually comment on the blogs I love, and it's been a really rewarding thing so far!) But since I am starting all over again here, it's easy to feel a little discouraged when I don't know if anyone is even reading any of this.

So if you're reading- drop a comment! Let me know my mike is plugged in, so to speak. Because without your feedback, I feel like I am, quite literally, blogging into the void...

sick and/or tired

Trying to wind down after a hardcore day (and night) of illness & convalescence. I had a rough day today. My body crapped out on me. I'm so tired of being sick & tired. I'm only 35 but my body sometimes behaves like it's 70... *grumble*

I've had various health problems most of my life, and I have always imagined that if I lived in the way-old days, I'd be one of those white-ruffly-nightdress-ed ladies that always got the vapors and spent most of their time lying abed, hand pressed to forehead dramatically. But since I do not live in olden times, I am instead just that chick who sometimes falls down in a faint, most usually not in a white ruffly nightdress. Fainting sucks!

Fainting has actually been a big problem of late. Right now I am sporting a nice, purply bruised lump at my hairline (and a lingering headache) from my head kissing floor during an early morning faint. I have a rather new scar above my eyebrow from a faint a few weeks ago (another one dammit, though it does kinda give me that fetching deadly assassin-ish type look) Also I have a little cut by my lip right now from yet another recent faint. I look like I've been brawling! The fact that my room- where the fainting has happened lately- has a superhard concrete floor doesn't help. Doh.

The fainting is happening because of my blood pressure issues, which are being exacerbated because of stress. And when it gets hot (like it has been lately with the crazy 105 degree temps) my blood pressure is even more apt to spike up easily, increasing faintage potential. I am in a stressful living situation right now (UNDERSTATEMENT), so decreasing the stress is not that easy right now. I'm sorta stuck here in a toxic (for me) environment- for the moment. Luckily, it looks like I will be moving out soon; we're just looking for the right mobile home now, as soon as we find it, I'm outta here!

In the meantime, I just hafta keep on keeping on and try to at least make light of things- I've long been known for finding humor in the grimmest situations so, lucky me.

And I could be doing better in terms of taking care of myself lately. There- I admit it.
I've been eating a crappy diet (and not eating nearly enough), I've not been sleeping enough, I've been pushing myself physically on those days when I know I should cool it and give my body a rest. I have to realize that I can't bully my body into not being sick. I have to- like my very dear friend recently told me- ride out the rough patches like a sailor (or a pirate, yearrgh?!) on the deck of a ship at rough seas.... roll with the swells while keeping focused on the horizon.

So, though I had a very shitty & discouraging day today, there's always tomorrow. That, and randomly stumbling across things like these brilliantly bizarre videos of Isabella Rosellini portraying the sex lives of various bugs in a sort of see-it-to-believe-it insane bug porn.
Now that shit made me laugh, and laugh and laugh. More, please!

bed bugs

I am a well-seasoned night owl and insomniac. My internal clock has been amped to high during the late night hours since I was a kid, so being liveliest at night is natural to me. But for the past decade I have also had the cannot-fall-asleep thing happening, I usually have to exhaust my racing brain in order to get it to shut the f**k up and it's rare that I fall asleep early. I've tried the usual- hot tea, counting sheep, soothing music, yadda yadda etc- but it's almost like my subconscious has this paranoia of going to bed before a certain time in the early morning hours. Recently I realized that the hour I can't seem to fall asleep prior to, is the approximate hour that both my mother and my sister passed away. I'm sure some would love to analyze that one. Bad moons rising. When I do fall asleep, I have the most bizarre dreams... lately there has been a series of recurring ones that rotate around my twisted little head. One of those is about a place, very strange and surreal in that dreamlike way of course, neons and purples and greens and reds and smoke hugging the ground... it's always nighttime, and I'm standing outside of some kind of club or bar... it winds around like a Nautilus shell to a velvety interior with the entrance to the heart of the place deep inside. And people are drifting in and out, beautiful people in beautiful clothes, in groups of 2's, 3', and 4's, laughing, cheeks reddened, partying down... they let bits of colored light and music spill out behind them in the doorway and it looks good in there, good, nice and cozy... and I always watch, from outside looking in... but I never go inside... I never get to see what's in there. I'm not sure how to get in, am I even allowed to go in? Nobody talks to me, and I talk to no one. People part and flow around me like I'm ghostly. And I always feel like I'm dressed totally wrong, I feel like I have forgotten something really important, there is always a sense of urgent awkwardness. Is something important happening inside? Was I supposed to bring something? Was I meeting someone here? Sometimes everyone is a stranger. Sometimes not. The circumstances, the details, the individuals and the sequences are always different, but always within that same premise... sometimes I like being invisible and watching everyone ebb around me... other times it makes me feel so lonely. Strangely, even though I often wake up intermittently while I sleep, I tend to just weave in and out of the same variation of one dream as I fall in and out of sleep, which is confusing as Hell. No matter what I dream or how I sleep, though, I always wake up the exact same way.... with a uberhyperactive chihuahua in my face. Yip yip.

I am...

I am a girl who was born on the 13th day of the year, Capricorn, photographer, artist, author, urban explorer. I am currently camping out in a spare room at my 86 year old gramma's house, I am going to be living in a converted spooky old garage at the back of her property soon. I am the classic starving artist, freelancing from home (photography, art, portraits, writing, websites, whatever)

I have many scars but I like most of them. I love most of my tattoos. I have Major Medical Depression and take medication every day. I have a killer sense of humor and I totally like to make people laugh. I am extremely loyal and I have difficulty trusting anyone. I question everything. I don't have a sense of where I belong in the world right now. I still have hope.

I have had my writing and photography published in books and magazines, and I have survived physical abuse, robbery, and assault. I have traveled the country and met many famous people, and I have been homeless and slept in parks. I have lived through the murder of my little sister. I have signed autographs for fans at conventions and I have been committed to a mental hospital. I have lived in deserts and I have lived in forests. I have been in love.

I want a place to call 'home' and satisfying work to do and a BFF of my own. I want to travel and create and relax and endure. I want to solve mysteries and get drunk and dance crazy-style. I want to be comfortable in my own skin. I want to submerge myself in art and music.

I want to be happy.