Thoughts From A Walk

In midst of a depression, I somehow managed to force myself to do some local errands on foot today. There is something about walking that, sometimes, seems to cause my brain cells to open up and cause me to think about the here and now. What is it that I REALLY want?

I've always tended to live for the future. The present was too terrifying so I planned goals to reach my hopes and dreams. Looking at my life now, however, I just see the broken hopes and the lost dreams.

I have to stop drowning in my loss because it is getting me nowhere but I do not know how. Quite honestly, I do not even know if I WANT to stop drowning because then the hopes and dreams would be really gone, right? ...I don't know.

So what do I WANT now? It will take a while to think about but here is what I've come up with thus far:

1. Companionship
2. Friends of a like-nature
3. Fun
4. Success at my job

Number one, companionship, is at the forefront of my mind at this time. I recently read that when your significant other just holds your hand chemicals are released into your brain that are better than anti-depressants. Just imagine if everyone had someone to hold hands with. Would we still need antidepressants?

Often when I walk around this neighborhood I always think "geez, I wish I could show that house to someone and talk about why I like it ... or why does that lady down the street have those statues in her windows (it confuses me because I think someone is watching me) ... or "... I have allot of thoughts I want to share.

Unfortunately, it seems that most people have been too hurt and beaten down to respond or have thoughts of their own. ..well...at least I run into allot of people like that. I'm sad for them but, quite honestly, they bore me. How can I be attached to someone who has nothing meaningful to share?

Yes, it is possible that I ask too much...which is probably why I am alone.

Nocturnal Chatterings #10

--It's 4am.

--My stomach hurts again.

--I'm sickened by my loss and want to move on with it.

--Today I made a terrible mistake. I got a black rescue-cat from the shelter. He is not Baby the other black cat who doesn't want to be here in this lousy apartment.

Nocturnal Chatterings #9

-It's 4am.

-My stomach aches.

-It's been a hard week. To have my self disregarded so often by certain others causes allot of pain.

-I had thought I would only have to live in this apartment for only a few months. Yes, I was aware of the statistics but still believed otherwise. After this week, I know it will be longer.

-He has repeatedly said, "I'll do anything to make this work." That has not turned out to be the case and it stings.

-My hurt and anger is too great to even be near him at this point. It is hard because I miss my babies. The cats are my babies and I've already lost too much in that area. ...I cannot speak of it.
-People with children tell me I am fortunate to not have kids. I don’t feel that way. I have a strong need to nurture and help a child grow into whatever he/she wants. They would not feel that they think me fortunate if they were to lose a child. I do not think there is another loss like losing a child.

-I drank too much last night. Not enough to make me ill or hung-over but too much for me. I wanted someone to hold me but there is no one so I drank.

-I do not know how to make it through the rest of the weekend. I most certainly do not want to.

When Good Intentions Go Bad

Good intentions are certainly better than bad intentions but sometimes I do not know the difference.

Let's say a mother takes a sunny day off from work and sips on martinis to spend time with her three-year-old playing in the yard. Buzzing along, a bee stings the allergic child and medication is immediately needed. In a panic, the mother races her SUV to the pharmacy to get the medicine to help her child all the time not realizing that the three-year-old had ran to the back of the SUV and eventually dies. The mother was loving and wanted only what was best for her child but all that really matters now is The Bottom Line -- the child is dead.

I learned long ago that a person's behaviors do not constitute who they are as people. A person can do a bad thing but still be a good person. However, for all behaviors -- no matter what the intention -- there are consequences... A Bottom Line.

How should any one person determine what is The Bottom Line?

...I guess when they are dying and can no longer continue as is. I do not have enough middle fingers for this one either.

What if it is not possible?

"How long before I get in? Before it starts, before I begin? How long before you decide?Before I know what it feels like?

Where To, where do I go? If you never try, then you'll never know.

How long do I have to climb,Up on the side of this mountain of mine?" *

Per Wikipedia, connection refers to the human desire to experience the integration of the self and the other. This is accomplished through communication and empathy.

Also per Wikipedia: "...Communication is a process by which information is exchanged between or among individuals through a common system of symbols, signs, and behavior. ...when speaking about communication it is very important to be sure about what kind of communication are we speaking about, mainly: what type of things are communicated, between what agents, and with what kind of results.

Again per the same source: Empathy (from the Greek εμπάθεια, "to make suffer") is commonly defined as one's ability to recognize, perceive and directly experientially feel the emotion of another. As the states of mind, beliefs, and desires of others are intertwined with their emotions, one with empathy for another may often be able to more effectively define another's modes of thought and mood. Empathy is often characterized as the ability to "put oneself into another's shoes", or experiencing the outlook or emotions of another being within oneself, a sort of emotional resonance.

* "Speed of Sound", Coldplay, X&Y, 2005

We Have To Make Changes And We Have To Make Them NOW

"We gotta make a change...It's time for us as a people to start makin' some changes. Let's change the way we eat, let's change the way we live and let's change the way we treat each other.You see the old way wasn't working so it's on us to do what we gotta do -- to survive."*

The National Resources Defense Council has teamed up with Green Day in a campaign to save our precious natural resources. Though those of us who recycle have made a huge difference, the crisis of our environment has gone beyond recycling paper, plastic, and glass. If changes are not made soon then many of our icebergs will be melted, more wildlife will be destroyed, and so on. The only way to really turn the situation around is at the policy level. We -- society -- each other -- must come together and demand that our government enact policies to decrease oil usage and improve water conditions.

Go to http://www.greendaynrdc.com/ and start clicking on the "DO SOMETHING" link which will allow you to sign some of the most important petitions you will ever put your name to.

click here to see Moving America Beyond Oil video snippet

*"Changes", Tupac

Thich Nhat Hanh 1: Why I Now Eat Free-Range Chickens Only

trapped chickens

Nāmarūpa: Concept used in Buddhism to represent the psychosoma; the mind-body as one entity.

"Chickens are raised in large-scale modern farms where they cannot walk, run, or seek food in the soil. They are fed solely by humans. They are kept in small cages and cannot move at all. Day and night they have to stand. Imagine that you have no right to walk or to run. Imagine that you have to stay day and night in just one place. You would become mad. So the chickens become mad."*

"In order for the chickens to produce more eggs, the farmers create artificial days and nights. They use indoor lighting to create a shorter day and night so that the chickens believe that twenty-four hours have passed, and then they produce more eggs. There is allot of anger, allot of frustration, and suffering in the chickens. They express their anger and frustration by attacking he chickens next to them. They use their beaks to peck and wound each other. They cause each other to bleed, suffer, and die. That is why the farmers now cut the beaks off all the chickens, to prevent them from attacking each other out of frustration."*

"So when you eat the flesh or egg of such a chicken, you are eating (their) anger and frustration."*

*Thich Nhat Hanh (Thây). Anger. Riverhead Trade, September 2002. Reprint

The Hardest Thing & I Am a Dark Pawn II

I take it back. Leaving my mother was not the hardest thing I've had to endure. Being left was harder. She left me first...if she was ever there.

Nocturnal Chatterings #8: Broken Doors

BAM BAM BAM ... BAM BAM BAM ... "OPEN UP I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!!!" ... "YOU'RE KILLIN' YOUR MOTHER!!!" ... BAM BAM BAM ... BAM BAM BAM ...

Years ago, those were the sounds that woke my husband and I one morning when we lived in our townhouse apartment. Sleepy and confused, it took me a few minutes to realize that my father was trying to get through the door. We decided to be quiet and hoped that he would go away. After all, what were we supposed to do -- phone the police? No, that would not work since he WAS the police.

Eventually, he went away but it took months before the frightening behaviors would stop: watching me from afar at school or work or at the apartment, threatening that mother was going to die.

When will I ever be able to go to sleep without feeling the lifetime of such behaviors? When will I be able to sleep for more than a few hours? I MuSt make this horror stop.

The Hardest Thing & I Am a Dark Pawn

Being away from my spouse and cats is beyond hard and may kill me but this is not the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It may look harder because of my physical health. My body cannot handle emotional stress like it used to and has broken down but, though second in line, I do not think it is most difficult experience I have had.

Like I have mentioned, my parents were two Michael Devlins. However, as crazy, horrible, and cruel as they were, leaving them was the worst situation ever. Though I'm told that the life I endured in their house must have been harder, I think it was the leaving that was worse. As is probably the case for everyone, I have loved my mother more than anyone else I have loved.

Though others think that in both situations I made a choice to make the change, I do not feel there was any choice on my part in either situation. Truly, I feel like a pawn being moved about and I do not know how or why.

Someone asked me today, "Aren't you estranged from your family?"

"Sure," I responded. Yet the implied term "leaving," in and of itself, implies a conscious decision and effort to take an action. I have made no such decisions. Not then and not now.

I would much rather be at my house right now and I would also like to be able to phone my mother about this weeks activities but it is just not happening and I have no answer as to why except that life is a crazy pile of crap and we somehow do what we have to do.

Nocturnal Chatterings #7

- i woke up @ 4:50 am. the alarm is not set to go off until 8 am. why must this happen?

+ well, between 3-4 am are the depression hours so...you know what that means. actually, given the time change you woke up @ 3:50 am.

- bastards.

- i keep hoping (spouse) will phone

+ @ 4am?

- maybe he'd like to hear me try to sleep. maybe he'd put the cat on the phone and i could listen to him snore.

+ the cat or (spouse)?

- the cat, definately. i hope i can make it through this week and feel ok. i'm surprised that i woke up at all yesterday after the previous night. i had thought i would die for sure. women are more likely to die from a broken heart.

+maybe you are taking the right steps to get physically healthier.

- it did feel ok to walk today in the sun but i don't know if i'll be able to do the AM Yoga before work and i'm not sure i'll ever have good posture AND i'm at the pc again. i'm only supposed to be here during business hours.

+ yeah, bastards

I Left My Black Soul Purring On the Sofa

"my black soul"

After such a emotionally and mentally horrendous past couple of days, I woke up STILL crying and knew I could bare it no more -- I had to go get the black furball. I had been vomiting and other yucky things, my face had raw spots from acid tears, and my body ached from the stress but once I decided to go get him some energy flowed back into my body and I was able get some much-needed errands done before I went over.

He was immediately glad to see me today and rolled around on the floor purring and grunting as he does so well. It was a good reunion, I had a nice meal with my spouse, and I also got more needed tasks completed.

...then it was time to go and I began to fall apart. He could sense my nervousness and my leaving and he tensed up. I did not have the heart to drag him out of that house with all his screaming back to this apartment.

I'm hoping that I can keep busy with work this week but do not know what I will do come next weekend when I am faced with time without him. It is obvious that missing him is too hard on my mental and physical health. I also know that I have other issues that I am supposed to be focusing on during this separation -- such as my marriage and trauma issues. .....

My Soul Is Black & Gone II

Still no "zzzzz"'s ... mind running rampant ... couple in the east part of the apartment building have been arguing fiercely -- she's very angry and how dare he "turn his back on her when she loves him so?" ...how universal ... I wish she would just go back to her own home so I wouldn't have to listen to her ... how ironic of me ...

So ... forty chapters later in a James Patterson novel, I wander aimlessly on the hardwood floors only to end up here again at the keyboard of my demise. I'm supposed to be staying away from all PCs when not working because they are bad for my health. So many creative things to be done if I am up in the black a.m. but I never feel like doing them during this time.

Times like this pop my plug and all the bitterness putridly oozes out. Everything that I've worked for is probably within my reach but I can't grasp it -- due to my own self I'm certain.

It's supposedly NOT a failed marriage yet -- just some time off. Me here, him there. Me in a chilly apartment with hardwood floors and him in a warm carpeted house with three cats curled up around him purring. It's not the man but the situation I hate. Bitter hate. Bitter hopelessness. Bitter failure. All self-perceived? Don't know, don't care. All I know is that I thought that if I followed Point A to Point B to Point C and so on, just as it should be done, then all would be good but I am still awake and there is no Point Zzzzzzzz!

Summer will be upon me soon, my favorite time of the year full of rich honey with me supposed to be planting and killing plants in my yard
, drinking a brew on the back porch under the evening stars, swimming until I am exhausted, raising fishies, reading books, having fun at work, chasing cats, and polishing my motorcycle. None, None, None, None, None, None, None, None, None.

Frightenly enough, to quote Marilyn Manson, "I just wasn't born with enough middle fingers..." at 2:54 in the a.m.

My Soul Is Black & Gone

"my black soul"

I tried to sleep without medication tonight and that doesn't seem to be working. Tonight is the first weekend night without my cat. Because he was feeling skittish I have let him stay back home. Even when I visit him, the smell of this empty apartment makes him nervous. Seems silly that my life should be so hollow without him but...as I've mentioned before ... he's more than just a cat. I sing inside when he's around ... sang ...

Vacations ... summertime ... movies ... hiking ... swimming ... I try to come up with things to look forward to...I try to come up with things to make the most of NOW... but ... nothing.

Head On Down To The Jesus Camp

Someone told me that they became angry after watching the documentary of religious extremists entitled "Jesus Camp." Hoping to find someone else's issue to ride (instead of my own) I finally was able to watch it. Unfortunately, I cannot say it distracted me much from my own brooding.

Having been raised in a community of Pentecosts and extreme Baptists, there was nothing new for me in this movie. I was not shocked and I was not appalled.

While not supportive of teaching such extremist views to children, I do believe that we have to teach our children something. Though I do not know exactly what that should be, I fear that the tactics used in Jesus Camp remind me of tactics used by Algeria, Angola, Bangladesh, Bhurma, Cambodia, Colombia, Congo-Brazzaville, Pakistan, Peru, Rwanda, Sierra Leone, Uganda, etc. At least there were no guns at the Jesus Camp.

Children need guidance and ideals to follow but in the end we all need to decide what we truly believe versus what we were taught to believe. After all, that is the essence of the Jesus story -- to let your old beliefs die to what you truly believe and are but... the path to such self-truth is indeed narrow while the path to craziness seems to widen...

Support UNICEF

i wish you would hurry...

...i miss you so much...and i wish you would talk to me.

The Fate of Inspector Javert

" It was my right to die as well

Instead I live... but live in hell."*

In the dark of night he flew to the edge of the bridge with what might his legs would carry him. He had discovered that his dedicated quest was in bitter and scouring vain. Despite his faith in what he believed and fought for, he had failed. The treacherous monster whom he had fought so hard to slay had given him mercy and, thus, also gave him doubt for everything he had held fast to:

"...And must I now begin to doubt,
Who never doubted all these years?
My heart is stone and still it trembles
The world I have known is lost in shadow."

The journey was suddenly meaningless. It might have been better if he'd never have taken it because it only led him to the devastation from which he was already running from and from which he had so dearly hoped to be redeemed.

In my naivete, I used to view Javert as a man to be respected. After all, whether or not his literal goal was worthy of his efforts did not matter because he was a man of integrity who sought truth and justice.

Now...I am no longer sure of my view of Javert. For example, until recently I used to medicate my fish in the hope that they would get better from whatever illness but I realized that I was prolonging their suffering and that it is actually more merciful to make them as comfortable as possible and allow them meet their fate sooner rather than later. Some goals are just not possible and not fair to put others or yourself through.

"I am reaching, but I fall
And the stars are black and cold
As I stare into the void
Of a world that cannot hold...
There is nowhere I can turn
There is no way to go on...."*

*"Inspector Javert", Les Miserables, Victor Hugo / Cameron Mackintosh.

Broken

I am afraid that my brain is broken. To do a simple task at work I have to make a detailed plan and then take notes throughout the day to keep myself on track. Abilities that I once had are gone. Over the weekend I found myself staring blankly at the wall on multiple occasions.

I cannot sleep. When I do eventually fall asleep I have nightmares that wake me up. I can feel the insomnia affecting my health and my fibro pain has been high. Nothing else is known that I can try. I've done traditional and non-traditional therapies and I am broken throughout.

Many times, I have experienced the rest of the world as through a tunnel. Other people speak to me and their voices are muted and far away. I now crave simple things like touch and personal conversation. There is really nothing I can say. I used to watch people, including myself, from above and could not get down to their level, nor did I want to.

Now I just want to function well, sleep, and be healthy. I want health with rosy cheeks and a calm stomach. Not a pale face with darkened eyes and a stomach and back that prevents me from standing up straight at times. I do not know how to fix this which has been broken.

Step Five: Rebuilding

"Danger past. The feeling that something was gone. Something that was part of you. Something that you needed. It protected you. The violence that you wore like a cloak of honor. The feeling that you could protect your world with fists has gone. It's not leaking out of you, it's pouring away, fast fast, faster. You're of no use to it any more. Maybe...maybe now you can fly with the gods."*

Warm and steamed with soap, I sat in a hot tub tonight in attempt to allow the recent stress to melt away and go spinning down the drain. After three nights of unrest the cats have quieted down and I got a little sleep.

Though I have no clue what lies ahead, I try to savor what little calm I can. I've eaten some food, brushed my hair, and slathered my skin with lotion -- things I have not been able to do for a while.

In the movie 16 Years Of Alcohol, Frankie managed to get a touch of peace. By slowing down his frantic running, he was able to take a look at what he was running from and stare the beast in the eye.

It is unclear what exactly happened to Frankie after his past literally caught up to him and beat him to a bloody pulp as he lay still on the concrete. We do not know if he got back up from the attack but it is clear that he had recognized the recurrent destructive patterns of his life and had given them up. Even if it meant the death of him, he would not participate in the violence of his life:

"If everything that you'd ever ruined fell from the sky at this moment...then the world would be covered in darkness. Is this what you really wanted -- is this the dream? Do you have it now? ...The shape of your journey -- at last you can see it. Maybe it's time to start the clocks ticking again. Look time in the face and forget about the past. Stop the past leaking into your heart. "*

Though the Gillian Welch folksy-love-song playing at the end of the movie implies the love relationship between Frankie and his girlfriend I can't help but to wonder if it is really a love song about Frankie finding his way back to his own true self:

"Oh I dream a highway back to you love
A winding ribbon with a band of gold
A silver vision come molest my soul
I dream a highway back to you.

Step into the light, poor Lazarus
Don't lie alone behind the window shade
Let me see the mark death made
I dream a highway back to you.

What will sustain us through the winter?
Where did last years lessons go?
Walk me out into the rain and snow
I dream a highway back to you.

Oh I dream a highway back to you love
A winding ribbon with a band of gold
A silver vision come and bless my soul
I dream a highway back to you"

The first step was HOPE. The second step was BETRAYAL. The third step was THE WAR. The fourth step was THE DECISION. The fifth step will be REBUILDING. I HOPE the sixth step will be a peaceful prologue.

*"Frankie Mac", 16 Years of Alcohol.

The Third Attempt

Yep, this weekend marks the third attempt to dwell in the apartment. I had been exhausted, crazed, and had some sort of jaw-joint pain problem -- I assume from nightly jaw clenching -- so I took last week and stayed home. Until tonight.

I can't sleep due to strange noises in this old place: creaks, pecking, popping.

I did finally get Milo the cat over here and that was very helpful. Later, to my surprise, my husband brought over my other cat. I know it was a big effort on his part to do that because he loves our cats as much as I. Shamefully, I am immensely relieved to have them here. Though still not enough to put me to sleep for very long, his benevolent act and the presence of the cats have calmed me significantly.

They are adapting much better that I had thought they would. Their curiosities have moved them to explore all the new nooks and smells.

With the aluminum windows, it is drafty here so I am open to suggestions as to how to get rid of the draft. I can't imagine what the heating bill will be but the chill is not helpful to my myriad of fibro issues.

The Second Attempt

Why do I follow through with things that I do not want to do? What ever gets into my head to begin with? Time is so short yet I am spending it alone and exactly without those with whom I want to be with.

Milo the cat is home in bed waiting for me. I know because I just left him there. The other cats don't know yet but Milo knows...he's a smart one.

My husband was standing at the door when I left so I didn't look back. The howling began at the back of my throat and escaped again so that I did not know if I would make the drive.

This is supposed to be our second chance...a time to regroup and start fresh...but it may kill me in the process and that doesn't seem right to me. I have no idea what I am doing, I do not know why I am doing it, and it doesn't feel right.

"Tell me when I can open my eyes
I don’t want to walk out that door
There’s no easy way to get through goodbye
I’d probably try and talk myself into staying once more

Or I’d lie and say it’s all for the best
Wish you luck and say I have no regrets
But I’m not up to being strong
So I’ll wait until I'm gone
Is it over yet...

My car's waiting in the driveway for me
I'd call your name, I guess I'm ready to leave
I could use help with a suitcase or two
But I’m afraid I’m gonna wind up down on my knees

I should tell you that I want to go
I really need to spend some time on my own
Smile and say goodbye
So you don’t see me dying inside...
Is it over yet..."*

*Wynonna, "Is It Over Yet," Tell Me Why.

The Attempt

In a far away voice I hear "Hey, hey..."

Half awake I see my spouse standing at the top of the staircase.

"I'm going to a basketball game tonight and will be home late," he says.

Trying to focus, I do not understand. Surely, I am not hearing correctly. This is supposed to be my last night at home before our allegedly temporary separation when I move from the comforts of my home into the crummy apartment without carpeting. I thought we would have dinner and watch the movie I rented just for him so, in my genius, I just respond "What?" Surely I am hearing incorrectly...

"I'm going to work a basketball game tonight and will be home late," he says again. Then he is off and I am left alone.

Hearing the door shut I begin to cry hysterically. Another failed communication. All the scabs are gone again and I am bleeding profusely. Not sure exactly what has happened, the howling of everything lost begins to escape from my throat and I continue to cry like a 2-year-old.

Maybe I should just leave now. If I can pull myself together, I should just gather the last of my belongings together and go. It might be easier than dealing with the miserable anticipation.

Not quite an hour later, I begin to think that I must have misunderstood so I phone him. "Are you going to be home for dinner?"

"No, I will be home late. " he responds and I cry harder.

I try to tell him that I am going to go ahead and leave but the sobs interfere and he cannot understand me so I just leave it at that and hang up.

I begin to throw my stuff together and pitch it into the car. Entertained and curious, the cats watch my latest activity and I try not to look at them very much knowing that I will die if I do. Milo the cat and I had some good cuddles today during my nap and...oh well...

At the apartment, I try to make myself eat something. I brought one fork, one spoon, and a knife as utensils so I guess I'll be doing dishes. Thirsty, I try to open a bottle of vitamin water but do not have the muscle for it so I focus on putting away my things for a while before I sit.

I know he is going to expect me to be there when he gets home tonight and the thought of him finding the feeble note I left eats at me. I know I am not thinking clearly but I do not want him to come home to an empty house with a note when he is not expecting it so I hook up my laptop, watch some Napoleon, pace, and cry.

I begin to phone him at home every five minutes but he does not answer. I worry. I wonder what the cats are doing and think how they have no idea what is happening. Milo is probably waiting in bed for me as usual. Unsuccessfully, I phone again.

Then the idea hits me: it is possible for me to hurry back home, remove the note, he will not have to face the empty house for tonight, and I will have another night in my bed with the cats.

Praying, I drive like a crazed bat and arrive at home to find everything as I had left it. I rip the note off the tv and check the answering machine to hear that he will is going out with some friends and will be home even later. I sigh relief and crawl into bed where Milo is waiting.

Senior Citizens & Breakfast At McDonalds

Man 1: "World's goin' to hell in a hand-basket..."

My Thought: "I think it went a long time ago."

Man 1: "...I've got so many red spots on me that I can't count that high."

Man 2: "Yep."

My Thought: "Must be talking about liver spots. I had tons of red splotches on me after that hot shower last night. Skin is dry from the winter...itchy itchy..."

Man2: "Tell you what...those damn kids today are killin' themselves in those tanning beds. Talk about spots...Good Lord..."

My Thought: "I was just thinking that last week! Carcinoma city!"

Man 1: "Kids...all got to have one of those 4x4's too.

Man 2: "Yep and they probably ain't been in the woods once. Don't know why they need those huge things...killin' us all...takin' the gas..."

My Thought: "I was just thinking about that a few days ago! People killing the environment with SUVs...why do people need an SUV in the city?"

Man 1: "Look at that old car..." (pointing to an elderly woman pulling in lot with a large car)

Man 2: "Yep, why she need such a large car...to go to the grocery store once a week?"

My Thought: "I was just thinking the same thought about a lady yesterday! Are they safer in those cars? How can they even see in those boats? I have enough trouble parking my sports car..."

Man 2: "I tell you another thing, I'm so sick of reading bumper stickers. I want a bumper sticker with NOTHING on it."

My Thought: "I hate bumper stickers too...I get tired of reading about other people's religions, politics, dumb puns... GEEZ -- HOW OLD AM I?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?"

Man 2: "Yep...world sure is going to hell in a hand-basket..."

My Thought: "...so must I..."

Media Struggles

Hell

I knew the ugly was going to get uglier. When they found the kidnapped boys in the small apartment I knew and I was right. It may be that the public needs to hear about it, but as the horrific details began to emerge I am stifled to even breathe. A little boy's trauma plastered in the news...

They can paint it with their "half-full" phraseology of a "Missouri Miracle", and no doubt it was, but I was raised by two Michael Devlins and I know. The entrapment...the helplessness...the identifying...the shame...the terror...the instinct to survive even though you don't want to...then the worst -- the war to get back something you may have never even had to begin with more less get again.

Neighbors say "he always seemed like an average guy" but now they call him "a monster." They properly coin him as a freak but do not realize that there is likely a similar one already in their neighbor's house down the street. Nevertheless, my vengeful wish is that he live long and suffer. I'm not proud of it but it is true.

I hope they do not let him die -- that they do not let him live his life in a jail cell where his health needs are taken care of -- that they strip him of his clothes, throw him into an isolation cell, let the diabetes eat off the rest of his body, and let him suffer long until he rots dead.

I Run From The Ball

Do dreams make no sound
As they die...the worst thing is knowing that I'll survive...*

That's right, I run from the ball. Picture this: pee-wee volleyball - skinny kid with spindly arms - ball larger than head - trying to pop the ball over a 50-foot net from behind a line that is a mile away. A couple of coaches were vaguely amused and tried tediously to help me get the ball over the net but it would not happen for years to come.

Though I did improve, I hated that sport. Yelling "GOT IT!" and attacking the ball was not my thing and usually ended up with me crashing into someone and both of us sent to the floor. Also, when the ball hit -- it hit hard. Hard enough that I just knew I would be again crashing to that concrete-hard, shiny wooden floor with half-an-inch of wax and that my head would gush with blood and I would be disemboweled that very moment. ...okay, a little extreme but that's what it felt like.

So I run from the ball. I've always ran...long and hard. Some say that running is sometimes actually standing up to something...saying "I won't do that or I won't live like that." The trick to the game is probably knowing the difference.

And I watched as you turned away
You don't remember, but I do
You never even tried

Don't fall away and leave me to myself
Don't fall away and leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands again **

*Fuel,Hemorrhage(In My Hands), Something Like Human
**Fuel, Die Like This, Natural Selection

The White Van That Stole My Teeth

Still with nothing good or hopeful to blog about, I'm actually NOT going to blog the hopeless and not-good things I have to say. So I'm going to tell another twisted childhood story that others seem to be so fascinated about -- the story of teeth and the white van.

So, it was another sunny day in my tiny first-grade classroom when the voice of the principal's secretary came over the intercom and started calling out student's names. One by one, students were led out of the classroom and when they came back they were in shock and missing teeth!

Sadly I, in my own la-la-land, was able to just write it off and not pay attention; that is, until MY name was called out.

Dressed in her white uniform, the school nurse led me out to the parking lot where there was a white van waiting for me. I crawled up into the van and a large man swept me up into a large chair. Something about the smell did not seem right to me but before I knew what had happened the man had removed my two front teeth, placed them in a towelette, and told me to take them home to my mother.

I had went to school that day, minding my own business with all my teeth, and the next thing I knew was that I had two bloody holes in my mouth! Though I now assume my mother gave consent to the whole ordeal, she had never spoken a word about it and was surprised to find me without teeth that evening. I do not recall having ANY decay in my front teeth and hadn't been to a dentist before that would confirm such.

Looking back, I guess that it was some government-funded dental project for poor and rural areas but it still remains a mystery to me and my classmates. Also, for the next year a rumor ran rampant that there was a mysterious white van kidnapping children so none of us went near the edge of the playground during recess out of fear.

My teeth grew back but they are surreal to me.

Nocturnal Chatterings #6

- I'm really not having chatterings, just can't sleep again. Eating away at my empty stomach, the ruthless stress has teeth.
-I can't seem to eat much, especially in the evenings when I have to come home. Much of the stress is here. Maybe if I could eat more then I could sleep better.
-I don't want to find a new place to live. I don't want to disrupt 40 gallons of fish, three cats, myself, and a spouse.
-I know that I need a lifestyle change. Working so much is not good, no exercise is not good, not eating is not good.
-I wish I could give more hope to others reading this blog.

I Must Find That Which Was Lost

"I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
With vassels and serfs at my side,
And of all who assembled within those walls
That I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches all too great to count
And a high ancestral name.
But I also dreamt which pleased me most
That you loved me still the same"*

Major life decisions are usually hard and complicated. They tend to sweep me under like a huge salty wave. Often, they involve causing hurt to others and this is very painful to me. Avoiding any harm, I put off major decisions as long as possible. Not until the point of losing more of my soul is upon me that I give in and make painful decisions.

I lost my soul a very long time ago. Thought stolen and/or dead, I believed I would never get it back. Often, I have not even wanted to try because if I ever were to get it back then the grief reminder from the loss would be to great for me to even breathe.

Tonight, I looked at my favorite cat and said to myself, "I love him so much. He is an embodiment of part of my very soul and I love him dearly. I do not know how I would live without him." Then it struck me what I had essentially said: that I loved my own soul. The thought of loving my soul...my essence..my very self... This causes feelings of shame to overwhelm me and that is sad.

"Only night will ever know
Why the heavens never show
All the dreams there are to know"*

I do not know what to say about this. It is too personal yet too foreign. I'll just cite a song that give me hope that I will find my whole soul again:

"Fallen Embers"

"Once, as my heart remembers,
All the stars were fallen embers.
Once, when night seemed forever
I was with you.

Once, in the care of morning
In the air was all belonging.
Once, when that day was dawning.
I was with you.

How far we are from morning.
How far are we
And the stars shining through the darkness,
Falling in the air.

Once, as the night was leaving
Into us our dreams were worth keeping.
Once, all dreams were worth keeping.
I was with you.

Once, when our hearts were singing,
I was with you."*

*Enya, "A Day Without Rain" & "Paint the Sky With Stars"

4AM Cat's Tongue or Rubbed Raw

There's nothing like being woken up to someone sand-papering your face -- especially if you already have insomnia and, thus, can't get back to sleep. I am reminded of a story.

Somewhere between first and third grade I had a classmate with whom I would frequently visit. Our mothers knew each other so they would sometimes visit as well. Apparently, this girl's mother did not want her to be wearing make-up and it was a BIG "NO-NO." Being a tom-boy, I did not see the issue this presented to my friend but whatever...she was obsessed with it. That was when she decided to try some cosmetics on me and the horror began.

At first it wasn't so bad but then she heard her mother in the other room and became extremely paranoid so she decided to wash it off me. The problem began when she determined that she couldn't get enough of it off me and that her deceitfulness was going to be discovered. There was something red about my left cheek so she rubbed...and she rubbed...and she rubbed...etc.

My cheek was very sore and I'm sure her mother noticed because the next day I woke up the left side of my face was all gooey, raw, and pink. A day later the wound began to turn into a nice brownish 3 x 3 inch scab and the interrogations at school and home began.

I tried to explain to the teachers, and everyone, that a girl had, matter-of-factly, simply rubbed the hyde off my face. Apparently, this caused allot of confusion, commotion, and I tired of it quickly so I began to lie to them. When one kid's mother asked me what had happened, I told her that "I got into a fight and you should see the other guy. Grrrrrrrrr!!!!" That was my reason and from then on, somewhere between my under-developed frame and the growling, and no more questions ensued.

The big question here is why did I let the hyde be rubbed off my cheek in the first place? I suppose I felt the fear of her mother's wrath and sympathized with the girl and also had too much of the victim mentality by then. In any event, it makes for a good party story.

Prologue: I did try to go back to sleep by using some techniques taught to me by a therapist but the wetness of cat #2's nose bamming me in the face made such impossible. So this time, I'm waiting for a Klonopin to kick in and then I am going to completely cover myself with blankets.

The Horror Of Darkness

Kurtz: I've seen horrors... horrors that you've seen.... but you have no right to judge me. It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror. Horror has a face.*

2:44am

with a thin t-shirt, I stuff into my mouth to bite down the screams of terror screeching up from the bottom of my acidic stomach, i crawl under a warm blanket to escape the chill which won't go away. what to do when the hauntings wrench your gut with such an agony that you can hardly breathe, even more want to. it follows you, the trauma follows you, and effects every moment of your life whether asleep or awake. those with whom you've had chances with are lost. you've been robbed. the list of possessions is too long to recoup and there is no insurance for such.

you walk through the day with your brain in a different mode from others. you've seen things, heard things, smelled things, felt things that should not have been consumed by any senses. it makes you different. you are a freak now. it builds a wall around you so that when you manage to break through no one knows quite what to do with you. people expect things of you but you can't figure out what, their voices blurring together like drugged fogs. you are supposed to be one thing but you are really another but no one knows or cares to know. it's too hard to know.

they find out what is important to you and they take it away. senseless acts of evil sneaking into a simple human body. threats keep you quiet and in your place. to the clueless, you look normal if you are able to walk around by day instead of holed up in a blanket.

Willard: Someday this war's gonna end. That'd be just fine with the boys on the boat. They weren't looking for anything more than a way home. Trouble is, I'd been back there, and I knew that it just didn't exist anymore. *

[quoting Kurtz]
Willard: In a war there are many moments for compassion and tender action. There are many moments for ruthless action - what is often called ruthless - what may in many circumstances be only clarity, seeing clearly what there is to be done and doing it, directly, quickly, awake, looking at it. *

*Apocalypse Now, 1979

Finding That Which Was Lost

"...And when she hath found it, she calleth her friends and her neighbours together, saying, Rejoice with me; for I have found the piece which I had lost.”"

Awake at 3am is not a good sign.

The entire St. Louis region has been glued to the TV astounded by the discovery of two missing boys. That fact that one was found was amazing but that two were found is beyond belief -- yet it happened. I remember clearly the picture of the bicycle from which the older boy had seemingly vanished into thin air over four years ago. Almost an evil blessing that it took one lost child to find another.

It has to take threats to get a child into a car and keep him for any length of time. Threats can be hard to recover from. The longer you live with them the more they change you. Like toxins, they poison your world and shape it into something unrecognizable and seemingly unbearable.

The trauma is haunting but there is no exorcism for it. I've had trauma and have searched every known avenue seeking resolution. Lately, the disillusionment that I would free myself has become too clear and the darkness of it is blinding.

Vividly, I recall living trapped in a house of torture where there was no escape. Threats of terror if I were to leave or tell burdened me heavily. I did not want anyone to get hurt.

Strange that even though the threat of violence is gone I still feel trapped in a house burdened by the misery of others and myself. If I could pack up and leave the sense of hopelessness and doom behind then I surely would but since I've done that once already I know that it would not work. My brooding haunted self will follow.

I hope that the boys get past the shock, the senseless self-blame and shame that replace the utter helplessness, the rage that surely should follow, and find peace. I hope we all do. Finding something lost is a good thing.

Missing Child

newslink

Amber Alert Issued for Ben Ownby
Last Seen: Monday, January 8, 2007 around 3:30 p.m.
Beaufort, MO (Franklin County)

Name: William " Ben" Ownby (male)
Age: 13
Height: 4 foot 10
Weight: 100 lbs.
Other: brown hair, blue eyes, last seen wearing a St. Louis Rams windbreaker and blue jeans. He was also wearing glasses.

Disappearance synopsis:
Officials say William "Ben" Ownby was last seen after he exited his school bus near his home on Burth Lane and Highway 50 in Franklin County, Mo.
Investigators believe Ben may have been abducted by someone driving a truck described as a white, possibly Nissan pickup truck with a camper shell and large rust spots. A witness said he saw a truck speed from the area after he and Ben split up.

Contact Information: If you have any information, please call:

Franklin County Sheriff's Department: 636-583-2567
911

Funds, Family Assistance

Ben Ownby Benefit Fund
A benefit fund has been established for the family of Ben Ownby to assist them while they search for Ben.
Donations can be made payable to:
Union Area Chamber of Commerce: Ownby Family Benefit
103 South Oak Street/P.O. Box 168
Union, MO 63084
Phone: 636-583-2555
www.unionmochamber.org
Donations can be made in person.

Find Ben Reward Fund
A reward fund has been established to raise money to offer as a reward for information leading to the safe return of Ben Ownby.
Dontations can be made payable to:
Union Bank Of Missouri
103 South Oak Street/P.O. Box 168
Union, MO 63084
Phone: 636-583-2555

Step Four: The Decision

"the world is silent, the clocks have stopped again.

i can see the ship that sailed has sunk to the bottom of the sea. I burn. My heart beats the tune that this is no fantasy, this is real. This is when you become dizzy with hate."*

I can't describe the mysterious world I seek as it seems I have not yet arrived. I can only search vehemently and learn from others. Only can I HOPE for Frankie's enlightenment:

::Sweating nervously in an AA meeting::

"My name is Frankie. And I am a violent man. I woke up one morning. It was winter. I could see an oak tree standing right next to me. It was cold. At first I couldn't feel anything and then I realized that my face was frozen to the ground. I couldn't lift it. It was stuck. I don't know how long I'd been there but it was long enough to freeze me. Something bad had happened. Something violent. My hands were free and I could see that they were blood red. But my thoughts were clear: They told me that I was a dead person. Dead, no longer living. Lifeless.

I remembered everything. Everything from the past. The past was there in front of me. As the sun came up my face was released but for a while I didn't want to get up. I just lay there listening to my thoughts about the past. This is where the world spins in the wrong direction, where it ends. The realization that everything that you ever wanted will never happen. Gone. Gone forever. 16 fucking years and gone. Think of all the love you gave people who never understood that what you were doing was for them and all you ever wanted back was something small. Hope. Not charity. You wanted them to make hope beautiful again.

After a while I got up and for the first time I understood something that had real meaning. You can't escape from what you are. You can only try and make you a better person. Anyway, I'm trying, and that's all I'm doing...trying to be better, trying not to give up. I guess what I'm trying to say is that things may not have worked out like you might have hoped and it's up to you to get on with it. ....Even though you feel that hope is tired and suddenly it isn't available any more... " *

The first step was HOPE. The second step was BETRAYAL. The third step was THE WAR. The fourth step was THE DECISION. The fifth step will be REBUILDING.

*"Frankie Mac", 16 Years of Alcohol.

The Bottom Line

"Faith is an island in the setting sun, But proof is the bottom line for everyone.” Paul Simon

I've always wanted to be stronger. I want to be the person with never-ending patience, understanding, and compassion but I always seem to fail.

In the business world, it is good to be understanding of an employee going through difficult times knowing that the troubles will pass and keeping the employee is worth the wait. Problems occur when the troubles never seem to pass and the BOTTOM LINE is reached. If the employer does not have a bottom line then there is a threat to the existence of the whole company. Should the company go under for one person? I don't know. Risking his flock, there was supposedly a shepherd who went in search of just one sheep.

I've come to the bottom line too many times with people. I do not know if it is because I've had extremes in "troubled" people or ... I am just not strong enough. I ALWAYS blame myself because there is ALWAYS a bottom line -- the point where my emotional and/or physical well-being come crashing down into a pile of rubble which I cannot seem to rebuild very easily.

For example, how long should a person suffer for an addict to obtain some sort of self-intuition and act on it? How long should a person hope to be seen, heard, and loved for who he/she is when the other person does not even seem capable of that for their own self? How long does a spouse wait for an abusive spouse to stop the beating or how long does a child endure parental abuse?

The answer always lies is the stinky and rancid BOTTOM LINE -- the point where either survival of self overcomes kindness to others or death occurs.

I've prayed to be stronger. I thought I had done all the right things to be so: dealing with my own demons, making healthy decisions....but obviously, something has gone wrong. Again.

Step Three: The War

Because my own war continues to rage at a merciless pace, I haven't wanted to write this post on The War.

Frankie had lived a life of alcohol and violence until he met other people with different lifestyles. It was a long struggle for him to figure out who he was versus who he had believed himself to be. Keen insightfulness is probably what saved him. After one particular fight he sees the uselessness of violence:

"this is not the stuff that dreams are made of. Each second here is another education in the art of destruction. The wonder of hate. There's no heart left here. Only eyes that lie and people that charge through the day. Trying to remember where it all began is not good. All that matters is how it affects you and the people you care about. That's the real world. How easy is this? Too easy to stop. They say when a ship sinks the rats float to the top. Some people look forward to this time. "*

While on a date visiting an unfamiliar museum, it was obvious that Frankie was out of his element. He had predicted that the scene would not go well, and after some patrons were rude to him, he resorted to physical threats of bodily harm until his girlfriend pulled him to the side:

Girl: what was all that about? what happened in there?
Frankie: they were horrible, they showed me no respect.
Girl: ...you threatened to cut and hang them from a wall... what did you promise me? ....you said it was over. the violence, the drink, all that stuff was over. it's never going to be over. they hit you, you hit them. someone says something, you say something back. you look for it. it doesn't come looking for you -- you're always on the lookout for it.
Frankie: what am i on the lookout for?
Girl: the past.

Even when we think something dark is behind us we go searching out for it like a hunter seeking to destroy monstrous prey. The need to put a resolve to a never-ending ache can be tremendous enough that it only causes us more grief.

Later, Frankie heads back to the bottle:

"people talk of strength at times like this.
strength of character - be strong, be a man, say no....
just when you thought it was in your grasp...you find yourself back where you started.
nothing is ever as easy as people would have you think. nothing. vodka, vodka, vodka...
where is love when you need it most. where is love when the past begins to leak into your heart.
where is hope...in a hopeless place?...."*

Time and again, Frankie is tossed back and forth between his old lifestyle and the fragile new one. Teased about his new girlfriend and lifestyle, he is threatened by old gang members:

"We heard you were a born-again. must have been given the wrong information. can't imagine ms. goody two-shoes would be too impressed. maybe I'll knock on her door and let her know her projects fucked. Her funny little experiment has fallen apart."*

Step One is Hope. Step Two is Betrayal. Step Three is The War. Step Four will be The Decision.

*"Frankie Mac", 16 Years of Alcohol.

Curses, bashings, and "I'm Only Concerned About the Kids"

I know I haven't blogged for a while. I've been busy with resting and trying to get healthy. I will finish the "Step..." series but this morning something jumped out and lit my heater up: the on-going fiasco with the St. Louis School Board. Who the hell voted for these people?

Diana Bourisaw, left, and Veronica O'Brien

Apparently, there was an emergency closed-door school board meeting called by the board president (Veronica O'Brien) to discuss the firing of the SIXTH superintendent (Diana Bourisaw) serving in the past three years. The session was described as a personal attack on current superintendent Bourisaw with no legitimate complaints.

One board member stated that. "They were hurling accusations at her, trying to demoralize her to the point she would quit," Purdy said. "If this was a school yard, you would call it bullying — that's all it is." This superintendent has only been in office for ONE semester.

Another member complained "I haven't seen her (Bourisaw) do anything productive. She doesn't have the leadership qualities we are looking for in a superintendent," he said. (I'm assuming he is meaning a "yes-man/woman" to do whatever the psychotic board ramblings dictate.)

How could ANYONE get a school system out of such a mess in one semester? Since 2001, the district’s fund balance has dropped from $63 million to a deficit of $30 million. Progress in test scores in the elementary schools has been offset by declines in middle school and high school performance. How can any good come from a group of people who are known for their violent arguing, walking out of meetings, throwing water over each other's head in anger, and placing "curses" upon one another.

I've seen the Bourisaw working in different school systems for the past few years. Whether or not she is right for this particular job is too soon to say. But I do know that she is very intelligent, experienced, and is a kind person. It is the school board, not the superintendents, that have been the problem. Specifically, the president of the school board is completely out of control. During her Fox 2 interview this morning, it was clear that Veronica O'Brien could or would not answer a question in any constructive manner.

A tidbit of history here: the new superintendent recently submitted a report to the state on the poor, but factual, condition of the school system. At one point the president did not want the state to intervene in this situation yet today (post-report) she suddenly announces that she thinks they should intervene. I have news for her, she no longer has a choice because the staties surely are already packing their bags.

With a long history of working with the mentally unstable and a few degrees in mental health, it has become fairly easy for me to identify severe and unstable personality disorders (thought I hate the coinage of terms). Extremely unstable and unpredictable, this president is manipulative and motivated by forces unknown. The frightening part is when she states "I'm only concerned about the kids" -- a mantra for all the school board. As if saying such will make their absurd behavior ok:

• "I'm only doing this for the kids": bash you over the head with a water pitcher...
• "I'm only doing this for the kids": put a witchy curse on your rotten soul...
• "I'm only doing this for the kids": cursing like a sailor regarding your personal life...

I encourage you to write a letter or e-mail to the Department of Education @ http://dese.mo.gov/contactus.html.

Here is a portion of my e-mail:

"Whether or not Dr. Diana M. Bourisaw is able to do a good job is not the issue here as she has not been give sufficient chance to prove herself. The School Board, specifically president Veronica O'Brien, has a history of disruptive behavior. In any organizational structure, dysfunction, corruptness, and incompetency often start from the top and trickle down their inefficiency onto others. At least move to replace Veronica O'Brien with vice president Mr. William Purdy. Possibly better yet, replace the whole board."

Honestly, if no one calls Nancy Grace soon then I'm going to start wearing my "VOTE FOR PEDRO" shirts again.