What I Didn’t Understand

Sometimes prayers are answered, but you just don’t understand it at the time.

Praying silently for hours at my mother’s bedside begging God to give her back to me because she was the last person I had left in the world who loved me.  What good is this life without love?

Leaving my mother’s side for a moment, my mind was overcome with pain, hurt, and loss.  Yet, in a moment a name was whispered in my ear.  He had not been a part of my life for years, I brushed that moment aside as soon as it happened because when it came to him I left so much room for doubt.

When we were together it was different – I was different.  Just being near him I was different.  He made me feel alive in ways I can’t explain.  He had a way of turning me on – not just sexually, but parts of me I didn’t believe I had.

However, I was so hurt by him.  I believed he felt the same for me, yet he never spoke of feelings to me.  I believed he was either ashamed or embarrassed to have feelings for such a large woman.  I cannot begin to explain the pain it caused for him not to speak to me, or share his emotions with me.

Years later after our worlds went in separate directions, I tried as best I could to reach out to him.  He closed the door so severely it made it impossible to approach him again.

Perhaps, though what I didn’t understand in the moment when his name was whispered in my ear was that my mother was not the last person in the world I had left who loved me.  Perhaps, he did love me, or perhaps there was a man out there who could and would love me and that was my destiny and my future.  I did not need to spend years of my life caring for her just to have some form of love.

The problems with my father at home were and are so difficult to explain it was hard to believe in any other future other than protecting my mother.

Perhaps, what God was telling me and letting me know – in an answer to my prayer – is he is out there.

Returning home from the hospital my mind was a mess thinking about him while trying to put my life together.  What do I do next?  Thinking of him at the same time, trying to understand why it was his name that came to me.

He has been the strongest connection I’ve ever made.  He was not my first love, or even my friend really, we were just a boy and a girl who went to college together.

We were in a play together.  I was Big Momma and he was Gooper in a Cat On A Hot Tin Roof.  The director stopped and changed direction.  The direction was for me and him to turn at the same time from opposing sides of the stage.  The director said it looked liked incest.  Because I couldn’t help myself when it came to him, I was excited and happy every moment I got to see and be a part of his life.  I remember the turn.  My heart leapt at the sight of him.  It was something I couldn’t control.  It was just pure happiness.

Our last conversation I will not forget.  He and I sitting on the lawn just talking.  He was going one direction in life and I in another.  I knew that would be that.  We said our good-byes.  I walked away.  But, I looked back, I had to look back as we walked away from each other.

I was a mess for months and months afterwards.  It was as if I was in this world, but not apart of this world as my tethering point – which was him – was gone.

Yet, at this moment he has been presented to me as my greatest enemy, killer of all my hopes and dreams, the one person who has brought me to the point of suicide every day for years.

Perhaps he is my enemy with only one wish to destroy and torture me.

I don’t know.  We haven’t spoken to each other for years.  He chooses to not be a part of my life.

But, an answer to my prayer was he is out there.  I just didn’t understand at the time.

What Happened Today

The purpose for sleep is to allow your brain to repair and regrow tissues, to build bone and muscle, and to strengthen the immune system.

When this is disrupted it sends the entire order and balance in these bodies God designed out of whack.

Since, the tooth radio has been installed in me, I have had my sleep interrupted every single day.

Can you imagine what that can do to a person over years of not being allowed the normal function of what their own body was designed to do?!

The possibility that people have access to my thinking as it is being thought exists, but NO ONE has any concept of LIVING the experience.  Nor, does anyone have any idea what it has cost me emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

Which begs the response, just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should do something.

I used to think I was an insomniac – it was just the way I could explain, I do not get good restful sleep – because after I placed my mother in a nursing home I thought I would finally make up for all those years of sleep deprived nights, and rest, and repair.

My whole entire being had been on high alert while taking care of her.  My mind, body, every single nerve ending on high alert making sure I was there the moment my mother needed help.

The best way I can explain it: It was like being a solider in battle.  I was removed from everyday life – as the majority of the population are not care-givers, nor do they have an understanding or comprehension to the life of a care-giver.  So, when I finally was able to give the care of my mother to a nursing home, I thought my mind and body would relax.  And rest.  And do everything I had wanted to do whilst taking care of her, but was unable to do so.

Just as a side note: I ended that last sentence with “so” because I did not want to end the sentence with the preposition “to” which would be poor writing.  Remembering “to” as a preposition because I played “to” the preposition at a school assembly.  I think it was the only time I did well at that Christian school, since I was kicked out or asked to leave there.  They were not prepared or equipped to manage a dyslexic student, especially an auditorily dyslexic with a high reading comprehension.  Even public high school was at a loss as how to manage a student who could read at such a high level tested years beyond my grade level, but get lost during lectures.  It has taken me years to find a way to get my brain to work with the standardized norm.

Whoops, rambled for a moment.

Another side, but must be said: Today the world at large tried to make me feel bad for ordering a pizza.  I had a coupon for a free pizza and I am broke – yet, again.  So, I ordered the pizza, so that I didn’t have to go another day of eating celery and apples because that is the only food I have left.  I was made to believe that I was asking to gain weight because I ordered pizza.  I am so sick and tired of being mocked, and having my existence controlled by purchases instead of just being allowed to actually live.

I have literally starved myself to near death just to prove a point and claim my innocence.  

I am simply trying to live.

My life since The Container Store has been a series of jobs.  I will never completely be able to describe the terribleness of those jobs.  The place I work for currently is the place I should have been able to go to from The Container Store.

When I first started at The Container Store, the store hadn’t opened yet, we were in training.  We stood in a large circle in the store while a trainer was talking.  A woman, I’ll call her Sue, stood beside me so close she was nearly touching me.  I thought to myself, uh ok.  Then, she put her arm around my shoulder very tightly.  I was at once on high alert.  If my face didn’t show it my body was trying to shrink out of her hold as I was thinking, What the fuck just happened.  At the same time I had no judgement or preconceived notion of her intention.  I’ve just never had a woman hit on me – that I recall.  If that was her intention or what happened.  I have no idea.  It just creeped me out.  My entire reaction was, Eeeww, yuck, and gross!

It was all a set-up.  To discover my trigger points and discover my reactions.

I will say this my departure from The Container Store and everything including my jobs has been very poorly planned.  Ninety-five percent of which has been completely unneccessary!

The first job after The Container Store I was forced to only use one door to exit and enter, otherwise I would never have used that door.  I still have no idea what my job was there as it seems they were still develpoing my job as it went which is a terrible mistake.

That gentleman helping me with my air-conditioner was a defining moment.  However, I would never have stayed at that job had I not been conditioned to do so from the previous job.

Walking into the Starbucks, seeeing that gentleman with his laptop was another defining moment for me.  It made me believe in the possibility of my employment.

It is a shame so much bad and terrible happened previously, since it has and is effecting my entire life still.  My current employment should have had the longest duration.  However, the time must be cut short.  My life is at stake.

I walked into a dealership today to get my key straightened out since it has been stolen.  Quite honestly, I went back a third time to make a point and name the person I believed should be in charge of helping me.

I know a person, or persons use a key to gain access to the contents of my car.  They spray accelerants – could be drugs for all I know in my car.  I believed I was walking into a door where the television could not see me, I feel tricked.  I am so tired of having to duck under and get out of the way of everyone’s television just so I can have my life back – to me.

Needless to say, my attempt to gain access and control over everything in my life – failed.  I have to replace everything the key touches in order to keep someone who stole my keys, my life, and my identity.  On top of which, actually planted false evidence in my own home as a means to control me.  Based on what evidence they chose to plant that evidence, I have no idea.

They told the story first as a way to control me which was not my story.

I know this post may appear criptic and out of context.  Saying something without actually speaking about something which is why my reality at the moment is fundamentally flawed.

No one can live in a virtual bubble without friends, relatives, family, and for me without a boyfriend or husband.  No one can live rushing from appointment to appointment, fixing one problem only to have another problem created, to fix that problem, only to have another problem to fix, etc.  It is not a life.

I was not meant to return to a pond, nor was I meant to be walked to death.  Isn’t that why he left that job?!

want to live, but at the moment I see no alternative.



Lost In The Moment

At Panera, which was normally our routine after rehearsals, sitting at a high-top table we over-worked, tired, broke, stressed-out college grown-ups trying to release the dull-drum schedule of work, school, and very little sleep – not necessarily in that order – talking and bull-shitting, would one-off each other.

Somehow the topic became a question of whether or not there could possibly be a limit to the size of a man’s junk.  Is there such a thing as too big?  Certainly there is such a thing as too small, right.  But, too big?!  Is there such a thing?

While the table started to discuss the very worthy question of how big is too big, I recalled I time a man got me drunk on red wine.

My wingman, a girl from work who had been hooking-up (do people still say hooking-up?) with a guy from Turkey (can anyone say Green Card – not to sound bitter, I just found it an unequal match) said, we’ll all go out and have a good time.  Meeting them at his apartment I waited on his sofa while he took a phone call when I arrived.  Most of the conversation took place with him staring at me while speaking Italian on the phone.

Let’s have a drink first, he said when he hung up his phone call.

Sure, what do you have?

He poured me a glass of red wine so sweet from the fruit that was soaking in it, I finished the glass rather quickly.

And then I finished another and another.

Oh, it was so good.

We never made it out that night.

Lying on his bed, tipsy, and wanting more…when I got to unzip his pants – Whoo, Lord have mercy!

It was a beautiful sight to behold.  That man was hung like a baby elephant.  Holy shit!  That was a beautiful creation God made between his legs!

I still recall that moment with stammering wonderment.  It’s a story to tell your grandchildren.  Embarrassing them with the life you lived before them.

So, well equipped with that memory, I blurted out matter-of-factly, yes there can be such a thing as too big because my jaw does not come unhinged!

There was great laughter all around the table, but one person fell back with such laughter he fell to the floor.  It took me a second to realize he was not only laughing so hard he wasn’t making any noise, but he was completely flat on the floor.

Almost immediately I started crying tears of laughter from the beautiful sight of him laughing.  And in that moment an overpowering need took root.  I just wanted to be next to him.  Close to him.  Just to be near him.

In the past I have used laughter as a weapon as a means to unarm people, so I can see people as they really are perhaps even as God meant them to be.

When a person is so gone in the moment from laughing they could pee themselves and not even care, or notice just to have one more breath, so they could laugh again – it is the most beautiful sight to me.  There is a boundless wonder of the human soul and spirit to behold a much greater story to be told in that single moment.

Worn Through

A kind of tired wears on me.  It is not just in the way my drab clothes hang upon my petite frame, exhaustion echoes loudly across my face yelling keep away, I’m worn out.

I’m so sick of traffic.  Anyone else sick of the same old shitty traffic?

I brought home take-out today,  I’ll be able to eat for days off it.  I’m reminded of the days when I took care of my mom.  She would go through times where she would not eat what I fed her.  She never did eat very much,  I would have to bribe her with chocolate or treats in order to get her to take her medicine.  Because if I couldn’t get her to take her medicine, what good was I?

So, I would get take-out just to try to get her to eat.  Honestly, it was always a great deal of work.  I would feel exhausted afterwards, but I felt as if I accomplished something at least.

I would have gotten her up, bathed, and dressed.  Given her a ride, so she was out of the house and out of bed.  She would have walked some instead of lying down in bed.  Then, she would have had some real food.

It wasn’t just the drive and getting out of the house.  She loved people.  She worked with people her whole life, international students, refugees, and children.  All shapes, all sizes, all colors, all ethnicities, she truly loved people.

She would reach for people, talk to strangers even after her strokes she never changed, she never altered.  She loved people and she wanted to make sure they – whomever she came across – knew she loved them.  Maybe it was her belief in God, maybe she was compensating for a lack of love in her own life, maybe she saw something no one else did.  I don’t know, but she loved people.

They say the apple doesn’t fall from the tree, and that’s true.  Sometimes people might find that hard to find in me as it was my job to protect her which sometimes meant asserting a different approach.

It’s a kind of terribleness to no longer have someone to care for.  I’m like a mother without a child, a nurse without a patient, or a solider without a fight.

Given my present circumstances that continue to keep those who know and care about me far, far away, I believe my loss to be unrecoverable.

Once, I went into a store and I thought I would get married there.  I can’t explain that.  Perhaps there was an unfair advantage that persuaded me into believing that story, I’m not sure.  But, I believed it.  And I believed it would help to marry him.

I will cry when I am ready, but not before then.  They will be my tears and no one else’s.  Don’t push your luck, buddy.