Why Not Today?

1. a week ago i had a little crash on the ninja.

why this is bad: it weighs 400 lbs. and i can't pick it up. this is so stupid, but for me, the ninja represents some sort of emotional freedom and that is why i ride. so ... in other words, i can't control my freedom. if someone else has to pick it up for me, then it is not freedom.

2. i've just walked into a new job where some type of political / social problems are occurring and today it fell right on top of me. nothing new, this is everywhere.

why this is bad: i'm tired ... really tired. i don't want to compete anymore. i don't want to work 12 - 15 hours a day to prove something. really, i don't have anything to prove - REALLY. i don't know this technology. i have a skillset - this is not it. i don't know shit about it and don't want to spend my personal time to learn. been there - done it - look where i am NOT.

3. a fellow female biker went down this weekend in a major crash. i asked some of the others in our group if we should send flowers. i received an e-mail from one in our group that pretty much said that the biker is not the "flower" type and this is not "what we do".

why this is bad: as always, like everyone, i want a sense of belongingness. i have tried but i don't get it. i never get it. i am the geek. i can try to be a bad-ass but i am not. i am not a party girl. i never have been. i'm not even the square in any group but the damn polygon. for once, please, just for once. if it weren't for me phoning or emailing others then i would have no personal contact with anyone. i could go a whole week without any personal contact with anyone. yes, i know it is my own doing in some indirect way. today, i had some physical therapy for my neck and spine and i had to go through my multiplication tables to NOT cry that someone was actually touching me and speaking to me. she even offered a freebie so i went to calculating division.

4. i get dragged down by superficial problems.

why this is bad: because there is so much junk underneath that i cannot seem to unload.

5. a therapist was supposed to phone me tonight to discuss my lethality but forgot.

why this is bad: ....duh...

6. i'm writing this blog post.

why this is bad: well ... i expect i don't need to explain that.

The Non-Violence Of Child Predators

Today Missouri governor Matt Blunt announced his continued pursuit of allowing the death penalty for violent child predators. If you've read my blog at any length then you know I support this initiative; however, you may also predict my next statement: "What exactly is the definition of a NON-violent child predator?" An oxymoron?

Perhaps this is just an issue of verbiage but I do wonder how the government will proceed with handling the absolutely massive numbers of child predators out there (if they are caught). Personally, I have no problem with killing them all but I doubt the majority of the general public would concur -- especially when it is the next-door neighbor and close-friend who is caught molesting his or her own child. Parents ARE a good majority of child predators, you know -- they just do not get successfully reported.

In any event, if this passes then there will be allot of specifics to work out but it would be worth it. I never thought I would say that about the death penalty but it seems to me that the horrific ramifications that these rapists end up passing through generations constitutes such extreme measures.

Quake It As You Will

One-Hundred and Fifty-Seven miles away from my bed at about 4:37am today, the Earth started to rumble. Approximately seven minutes earlier, I had been awoken by the sound of growling cats crashing about. I thought that they were up to their shenanigans again, moaned at them, and then rolled back over to sleep but never made it back to Z-Land because a few minutes later my bed began to shake, the windows rattled, and strewn jewelry tingled on my dresser.

I immediately shot up in bed wondering if I was dreaming or having a strange side-effect to my latest medications. But wait, there were the cats - they were real and they weren't looking so good. Eventually, the movement stopped and I listened for my neighbor upstairs moving about to confirm that it was not my imagination but there was no noise. After inspecting the apartment and finding no signs of damage, I clicked on the television for any emergency warnings but there were none. Still drugged and drowsy, I returned to sleep with a headache.

When the alarm clock went off a few hours later, I recalled the strange event and switched the tube on to the news and sure enough there had been an earthquake. It was then that I became severely afraid and noticed a knot on my forehead beginning to bruise. I phoned the almost-ex-husband to check on him and the house but there was no answer. For the who-knows-how-many-times-this-week, I realized the vast immensity of my aloneness in this world. An earthquake had occurred and I had no human to give or from whom to receive support. I choked my tears back and focused on getting to work.

Not even an hour into the workday, my cubicle walls started to shake, my monitors jiggled, and it was happening again. People began to panic as the world around us became a vertigo jungle. We pretty much tried to shrug it off with jokes but none of us have lived in California so we hadn't experienced anything like this. We all knew it could be much worse ... perhaps, that's why we were bothered. I think my degree of fear was intensified due to having grown up along the infamous New Madrid Fault. Nevertheless, I received the email a few minutes later from the almost-ex who was wondering if I was okay and my fear diminished significantly.

Not allot of work got done in our office this morning but something happened and it was more odd than the seismic activity. It was just the day before that I was mapping out my plan regarding how I was going to cope with the many trials of divorce and now a spot of damned hope was back again. Quakes come in all forms.

Please Pull The Plug

When I was younger, I volunteered in a nursing home. This was my first experience with Alzheimer’s. I was bothered by the things I saw but I didn’t quite grasp the immensity of the disease.

After graduate school, I worked many rotations in a geriatric psychiatric ward which mostly consisted of various types of dementia and Alzheimer’s. This time round, it was hard NOT to miss the devastation heaped upon the patients as well as the families.

Rich, poor, educated, uneducated – nothing mattered that caused these individuals to become so ill.

The reason I was touched so significantly is because they were not always delusional. It wasn’t their confusion or the bizarreness of their behavior but it was the look in their eyes during those moments of sanity (and those moments did exist) that my heart broke for them. Only the most hard-hearted could ignore the extreme trapped, helpless, and panicked piercing expressions that begged for help when their mouths often could not. I’ve witnessed the same scenario with schizophrenics and other psychotic disordered individuals.

I vowed suicide should I ever find myself to be heading in such a state. I’d rather die the most grotesque miserable death than experience the slow torture of a person whose own mind has betrayed him or her.

Long ago, when my body was under possession of others the only thing I had was my mind. I may not have been considered very smart but under my hood I could make a joke or go anywhere I pleased and no one heard or knew. Later, I discovered could even train my mind in such matters that I could go to college and escape so that my body would not have to return.

This past week, my own mind has betrayed me in such a way that I have gone to extremes just to cope. It comes and goes and they say it will not last but I’ve seen too much to not be overcome with such complete fear. As harrowed as my mind may be in it’s “normality”, I do hear-by declare that without my mind I do not want my body to breathe. I am not so fortunate to have someone listen to my eyes and bring me clean underwear so if there is a God then it is my hope that I am heard.

Letter Unsent

Dearest,

You are too busy to do any calling all week yet tonight I should be so lucky as to receive a last-minute call late evening with the message request for dinner. You have no clue what has been going on this week and how afraid I have been. Worse yet, if we lived together it would be the same situation as you would still be so clueless. I would only be of interest should it be dinnertime.

I have no idea what is going to happen to me and I can’t turn to you – the person who I had trusted would be there as long as we were living.

So, have dinner with yourself. That is what I have pretty much been doing for the past ten years.

Unknown Expectations

They tell me not to expect anything from him so that I will not get hurt. Likewise, they would also say that it is not fair to expect something without asking. The problem with both of these scenarios is that I will expect something without even realizing I was expecting it and then the next thing I know is that it doesn't happen and I am lying flat on the ground again -- long-term bad habit of mine.



It's my opinion though, that sometimes certain expectations come with the package. For example, if I buy a new car then a steering wheel, seats, and motor are expected.



In any event, the referenced un-fulfilled expectations are what caused me to leave in the first place so why I am blabbering about it still is beyond me. Time to throw in the cards and end the whole ordeal. I've made attempts but if he isn't wanting to win the relationship back and make it work then the kindest thing I can do for myself is to kill it once and for all. It's like watching your favorite horse spin around in agony - unable to get off the ground due to pain and missing legs ... just have mercy and shoot it.



I should not have had to go through this week alone and he has no clue about any of it. Yep, save up for a gun and shoot it.

Here You Go Well-Tolerated Strength of Craziness

I don't know if I believe it anymore but whatever it is - IT IS.

It was about this time last year that I was tossed in the throws of death while weaning off Effexor - the worst of worsts. You'll have to track down the serotonin-syndrome blog posts themselves because I'm too cranky to link you to them.

"Lexapro has the least side-effects for people like you," spoken by the medical director himself. I had hope.

In any event, here I am having gone three whole days without the Lexapro. For the past couple of weeks I took half a tab every other day. In one day my blood pressure was 150/120 then 90/70 and my heart-rate would be 130. I have been checking my vitals so often I feel like a hysteric - a hypochondriac - a near-psychotic - Munchhausen's by non-proxy.

Now I'm a labiling-roller-coastering rapid-cycler wondering about the proper DSM. I don't know what the hell is going on but I'll be writing my own scripts from now on: etoh.

They tell me to be patient because it will take time for my body to adjust but hell, I've blown a grand this past week alone, raged like a maniac, cried a swamp, and currently ready to slice out a vein.