If Eyes are Windows…

I am going to start this off by telling you I have a rather petite frame.  Though I wear medium shirts in men’s sizes, my bone structure is on the smaller size.  I have been known to find my jeans in the adolescent section of department stores by mistake, not knowing I was not in the adult section.  Which has caused others to feel embarrassed, but it always amuses me.  I wear medium shirts in men’s sizes (and usually large in women’s) because my shoulders, for my frame, are rather broad.  I have great difficulty finding dresses that fit due to this, or long-sleeve shirts.  Do not even get me started on jackets, as I also have incredibly long arms.  Yes; I realize I am starting to sound like a lanky circus freak; I am not.  Well, I mean, I AM, but not proportionately speaking.  It is hard not to be considered somewhat freaky to many people when you have this many tattoos, stretched earlobes and unnaturally-coloured hair.  And watches.  I cannot buy a watch that fits unless it has a leather band and I cut extra holes in it.  My wrists are so petite but attached to them are incredibly large hands, for a woman.  I always have to buy large or extra large gloves.  And extra large hats, too.  My daughter has also informed me I have Vulcan ears.  Aren’t kids sweet?

I swear, this has a purpose.

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Suicide IS Painless..Only to the Dead

I have read so much over the past few days about depression and suicide. It has long disgusted me how we, as a people, will band together over a situation short-term, yet go back to our petty ridiculous squabbles so quickly. I most certainly have my own very strong thoughts about both depression and suicide, as I have survived depression so long, and have known so fucking many people who have killed themselves.

I cannot tell you when I was diagnosed as bipolar, which used to be known as manic depression, which used to be known as blah blah what the fuck ever. A lot of people have it. So what? Every person on this planet goes through periods of depression. It is a part of life to have high and low points. Some of us are lucky/blessed/whatever to have more highs than lows, some of us are unlucky/cursed/whatever enough to have more lows than highs. Some of us are intelligent enough to realize our perspective changes the situation for our own good, regardless what happens. I cannot tell you when I was diagnosed because, as with most things in my life, I simply do not remember. Head wounds, what wonderful things.

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Anxiety Attacks and drowning in the ocean…

It’s funny how, being classified as bipolar, when I get stressed enough, I stim like someone with autism, asbergers, Tourette’s, etc. And yes, I’m spelling shit all sorts of wrong, and, at the moment, I could give two fucks or a shit less about that or grammatical errors. I have been having fairly intense stims somewhere around an hour. For those of you who suffer from any psychological prizes (hey, let’s call it something fun, instead of a disorder!!), you know how utterly motherfucking god damb exhausting they can be. Just…life-draining. And when I stim, I tic like a motherfucker. Scratching, rubbing my fingers, hitting myself, rocking back and forth,openingand closin gmy mouth,s ieltn screams, rapid blinking, rapid eye movement, tapping, sometimes sounds.. I get a nice lovely run of the stim spectrum. LUCKY ME. Thankfully, it’s only when I am incredibly super HOLY FUCKSHIT stressed the motherfuc out. And I have been..

This time of year is always pretty fucking tough on me. Starting at the beginngin of July through about the first week of August. I adopted a son out the day he was born, August 4th, 2004. And starting about a month before, I just………sink. I sink beneathe the waves of.. everything. Sounds, tastes, touches, feels. thoughts, breaths, leaves, colours, life itself. I have to keep busy. God damn, do I have to keep busy. I will cut a fuckin gentire yard with a god damn pair of scissors if that is absolutely all I have I can do to keep busy. Today, I rearranged my entire livibng room. That may not seem like much, but I had to vacuum and spray for spiders, too, because I have apparently gained an infestation of cute cuddly wolf spiders. Absolutely adorable, not lethal to most folks, but their bites suck big bulbous elephant balls. And I don’t like things randomly crawling on my face for me to squash. Yes, this has happened. And these motherfuckers are fast as hell. Look them up. Shoo, spider, you belong outside. Assholes. Anyw ay. This involved moving one 32″? television that is somewhere around 75-100 pounds off a 2′ high stand across the room.. rearranging 2 oversized loveseats and an oversized couch, moving two old-school studio speakers (the 4′ tall heavy as fuck type), the tv stand and putting a 42″? 75″ television back on the fucking stand. Alone. While dodging fucking spiders and keeping the kid busy. Whereupon I also found a tote I forgot about, seeing how it was cleverly disguised as a side table (don’t ask) and I found old birthday cards. And pictures.

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On this, my deceased father’s birthday, an update of importance, if only to me.

I have been conspicuously silent the past few months, and for good reason. Things in my life have, at points, come to a screeching halt, and at other times they have sped so far out of control, I wanted to yell LETMEOFFLETMEOFFLETMEOFF. This has definitely been a year of upheavals and trials, for sure.. though it has also been a year for good revelations, smiles, laughter, love, dancing, blah blah all that sweet shit.

Where to start? not the beginning this time, Dear Reader. Not this time.

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Manifesto with a Death Warrant

As the fifth anniversary of my father’s death quickly approaches (it is less than a month away), many things from the past 5.5 years are popping in to my head with nearly alarming regularity. Not all of them are bad, but they have given me pause for several reasons.. Be they times of great loss or great gain.

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