Does it ever stop? Does the crap ever stop? Does it ever get to the point where everything in your life is going great at the same time for any length of time? Does there ever come a day, when the warm sunny days come more frequently and last longer than the blistering cold nights?
I once thought that if I had the man my dreams and the love of my life all will be well. Wrong! I also thought that if I had the money, not a lot of money, just enough to pay the bills on time and have a little bit of change left over, things would be great. Nope!
Now, out after overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles, weathering devastating disasters, moving through mind-boggling challenges, I was ready.
As a lay in the the grass, watching my friends thousand dollar dog poop on the carpet, I finally got it! Life is about cleaning up the crap and, while you’re doing it, being okay with the fact that you have to do it. Life is about being willing to take your naked body, your most vulnerable self, out of the warm water where you are comfortable and clean up the crap without getting angry and losing your self in the process.
A word of caution. You can’t get caught up in the crap! If you do, you will surely lose sight of the real meaning of life and lose yourself as I have done. I finally understood I could not get caught up in what looks like, smells like, or how much of the crap is in front of me. There were days when I would leave the little things in my life undone, or half done, in fear of making someone mad at me, in fear of losing their love. Sometimes just to make myself look more tougher than I really was? There were times when I would sulk and cry about what I thought someone was doing or had done to me, believing that I was totally powerless to do anything about it. In many ways, I allowed myself to duck and dodge unpleasant situations in my life to avoid confrontation. I finally wanted to be the good girl, not the street girl, the biker chick, not scandalous. This, however was not one of those days, time, or ways.
I was choosing not to live like that any longer. I had spent enough days reflecting on this,in other peoples bathtubs to know that if you leave even a little bit of crap laying around in your life, eventually it will start to smell really, really bad. There are things in my life and about my life that has absolutely nothing to do with who I am now. I have to figure out how to read my life of the nagging little struggles, bits and bouts of confusion, an unexpected chaos that continue to crop up.
It was time to tell the truth-again.
I close my eyes and listen to myself, (Candi that’s what I was called back then ) she was raging again , she was angry and she wanted me to know it. And she was a part of me that simply refuse to change, refused to grow. She was the part of me in need of healing. The part where all my fears and character flaws were hidden. This is not about having a split personality or anything like that. It was about history. Candi had a history and I was creating my own. Candi had a history of pain abuse and neglect. She had a history of doing things in a certain way, with certain expectations, based on those painful and abusive experiences. Her history and those experiences often allowed her to neglect herself in pursuit of the approval and acceptance of others. She had a history of putting off the unpleasant, waiting until the last minute to do important things, and doing whatever it took to numb the pain. I understood Candi’s history and behavior. But I also understand that I have the power to change I have the right to live in peace. Starting with transforming my way of thinking and being, and to become a productive member of humanity. Candy and I had to become one.
This is part one of the journey .
A beautiful yet chaotic mind.
Some years you crawl and you swear you’ll never walk again.
Then suddenly you’re standing and swear, never, will I crawl again.
A kind heart has held darkness, a brilliant mind has felt madness,
Leaving a beautiful soul in a state of emotional purgatory.
Stroking my aggression, in hopes that I can roll my eyes
and forget that it happened again .
How did we arrive here, was it for want of the rush ?
Scraped knees and all, I whispered let’s crawl ..
Why are you so angry ?
Since that day when it all happened , you have changed. I was there that day too. I watched as you , I felt your pain yet I could not help you I saw all the people , the ones that have made you who you are fell to pieces .
The strong one , the bad chick, the victim, the educated one, the drug addict, the alcoholic, the co-dependent, the 16 yr girl who appears all too often, the compassionate one, the relapse queen who seems to be addicted to her pain.
I watched , yet I could not help you .
What had happened ? Why are you on the floor?
One day turned into two days, and into months .
I could see that were not yourself and in need of help. Hello “new you” , no reply! She doesn’t listen anymore . Shaking my head, wondering about this new you.
What’s going to happen to me .
I watched , yet I could not help you .
The new you has been sitting in the same spot for months now . What are you staring at ? Is it really so bad that you won’t let me back in to help you ?
Your crying is silent , not to be heard . The frustration and despair only I can see,has now become we. I watch as you try to manage a simple conversation. Only you and I know that you are not listening , not because you don’t want too.. You can’t.
I watched , yet I could not help you .
The bills are unopened , the dishes are stacked up and the cupboards are empty.
I see you trying hard to remember what day it is, why bother you don’t care . Things that were important , have no meaning for you . There are no appointments in the place that have gone to hide .
I think that you might need some help.
Hello you, it’s always been there, these memories that were so deep. Come get on your feet and let it go. Brush it off as fast as you can, being stuck here in this hiding place is closing in on you. Get up,and let me back in.
I watched you , yet I could not help you .
Struggling with the aggression and resentment. We get together as best as we can. You realize that you have changed . And then the anger came.
Is that why you have turned so hard? Look in the mirror, who do you see?
I watched , yet I could not help you . The reflection looking back at you is me .
And it goes like this
This is the true story
Or it could be fiction, the kind of fiction that could only be true.
A lot has been said about me, and you can bet your ass people will always start off with the bad stuff.You’re going to hear about that later. But for now I’m on the right side of being wrong. I’m just going to tell it the best way I know how. It so happens I’m talking about bad timing. either I’m always late or later.
If I didn’t answer I’m not coming.
In this case I should’ve been there two weeks earlier. Okay let’s get to the point it’s about a man, boundaries, lust ( that too) and it’s aftermath .
Or maybe I was just so fucked up at that time everything would have been a risk. I was broken , I was damaged and self esteem was a distant memory.
I’m also one of those kick ass chicks that your mother warned you about.
I’m a drug addict, I ran with the big boys , either on the back of a Harley yep that’s me one of the old ladies. And make no mistake it had its perks.
But this isn’t about my addiction and my ongoing struggles with recovery.
It took some time, I’ve seen the inside of rehab clinics in many different states and countries. I’m happy to say that I’m a recovering drug addict when I am not relapsing . There’s a lot of recovery when relapse is always just around the corner. And you guessed it I’m always on the corner of relapse. However, lately I wanted to understand why I hurt so bad, I’m damaged and damned pissed off about it.I became very serious and wanting to know what caused all this damaged. You guessed it dysfunctional right from the start. This story is about a lust, passion , desire. and sex.
I can say without a doubt the flying monkey’s have been unleashed .
Secrets to live by. The 48-hour rule.
I ask myself, “If I had 48 hours left to live , what would I do ? “
It makes you push aside anything that’s not truly important and focus on the things you love and make you happy! I would chose love and happiness over fun and a good night out .
It would take a special man.
A man that just “gets me” accepting my flaws and scars alike . I still have baggage that I’ve been working on leaving. I am not fragile living with shame and regret, drinking myself to the bottom of a bottle. Addicted to a kind of burning pain that leaves you mentally wounded . Trying to avoid the thinking, highly medicated, and drinking.
Accept me as I am, or watch me as I step in these heels and wiggle my ass out the door.
Broken I am not.
A chaotic imperfect hot mess, definitely!
Inhaling the essence of a passionate soul lost long ago.
Gone is the prison and it’s heavy chains, replaced by walls of boundaries, that will not be crossed.
Settling is not an option.
This was the conversation last night
I have never really gotten into the online dating thing . I am an addict, I have emotional scars , Behind the smile , there are still moments of great shame and regret. I understand that I can not undo the past, I now put effort into letting go. I assume this will be a on going process.
So there it is .. After waiting a few minutes , I was not surprised when the real person showed up. As the conversation went south, It took no time for me and my new high heels to wiggle my ass out of there .
As i was looking for a taxi , I ran into a friend that I haven’t seen in many years . Bottom line is the night wasn’t wasted.
Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder, what was this guy doing while I was sitting there having the all important first date conversation ? As I recall he played with hair quite a bit, and was playing his clothes every 5 secs..
Lets’ just call it a day and image that somewhere in there was a woman dying to come out and bitch slap him back to the 80’s . .
Apparently, ” I’m a woman” and and I have “feelings” and those” feelings” are activated through my vagina.
How should I process that shit ? I’m dangerous when I know what I am doing and know who’s doing it to me.
I’m dangerous when I know what I am doing and know who’s doing it to me.
When a woman says “don’t make me go there”, wait 2 mins and she’s there . I don’t negotiate .