So, The Story Goes…

I can’t believe I am retelling this story again.

But, here it goes…

The story is, I was never a reader growing up.  I would rather do than watch which is what reading felt like to me.  I felt reading was passive.  Its’s not that I couldn’t read or read well.

Unfortunately for me, my action orientated mind landed me in a reading-for-the-impaired class when a teacher asked me to read out loud then explain to the class what I had just read.  When I said I couldn’t explain what I had just read, she sent to remedial reading class.  Upon which the first day I was kicked out.

The teacher asked a student to read – I couldn’t believe how low these kids were reading let alone how slow.  This poor kid had a problem reading out-loud a simple word  like – T-H-E – I was so upset with having been placed in this class, I started yelling.  What is wrong with you, You can’t read that word!!!!!!!  The teacher asked me to read next, and I read as fast as I could, I was so upset.  I was told not to come back to that class.

When the teacher asked me to explain what I had just read and told her I couldn’t it was because I was thinking about so many other things other than what I was reading at the same time as I was reading that I wasn’t paying attention to the exact story.  My brain had other ideas in mind other than the science book I was asked to read.

So, I grew up not being a reader until…I became so upset from watching a movie.

Twilight came around and was everywhere.

Ugh, Twilight and vampire, and UGH!

I didn’t want to watch Twilight.  I am too cerebral, interested in culture, the world, and life to care about teenaged vampires!

However, I decided it might not be a bad idea to see why the whole world is in love with Twilight.  I was a care-giver to my mother at the time, so stealing away to go to the movie theater was a big deal at the time.  Sometimes, it was more than six months at a time before I left to go do something just for myself.

I went.  I saw Twilight…I thought, it’s not so bad.  I’ll go see the next movie when it comes out which was New Moon.  I waited and planned for New Moon.

That stupid movie!!!!!

That is how you end a movie with a wedding?!  What?!  Why?!  Ugh?!

I despised the ending!

I was so upset…for days!!!!  I had wasted my money, and  more importantly my precious time.

I tried to figure it out.  I decided there must have been something lost in translation from book to movie and that is why it was so bad.

So, I bought the books.

First book, not bad – easy reading.  Next book, and the next book.  I wanted to read them all because I was enjoying it.

Then, I remembered when he told me we were like Katherine and Heathcliff.  I remember it, but I don’t feel it anymore just like I don’t feel anything anymore.

So, I read Wuthering Heights.

Which brought me to another time when he and I argued over whether it was Anna Karenina or Anna Karen.

So, I read Anna Karenina.

Not, my favorite story, but there was a story beyond Anna Karenina which started in Volume eight.

In volume eight, Tolstoy shares more of a personal essay into what was happening in his life at the time.  For me, it was a profound moment reading volume eight.  My mother had been tiresome during the night.  I was up all night making sure she was ok, and didn’t have any more strokes.  But, this night she was particularly hard on me.  I couldn’t even stay in the room with her.

I had to finish reading this book.

When…with the reading of seven little words, my world changed.

I nearly dropped the book out of my hands.


What, just happened?!  Why was he at the center of the sentence?!

Memories, the past, all flooded my mind trying to comprehend.

I had loved him more than I had ever loved any other man in my life.  Yet, I had never been able to tell him, or share with him how thankful I was just to have known him.

I felt a connection to him – at the time – I thought, would never end.

Unfortunately, for me…I don’t feel anymore.  I have a complete disconnection from my heart and have been disconnected for years.

However, had I not read Twilight, I would not have read Wuthering Heights, had I not read Wuthering Heights, I would not have read Anna Karenina, had I not read Anna Karenina, I would not have leaned an appreciation for reading and classical literature.

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.


A realization hit me tonight – it has been more than 25 years since a man has found me attractive enough to ask out on a date.

I mean, I’ve been on a few dates a few years ago, but they were all a set up.  Only a couple of them where ok-looking, but hardly what I found sexually attractive.

I understand I am no great beauty.  I am just an average looking woman.  But, in more than 25 years I have never met another man – other than Michael who wanted me.

Michael was not a good man.  I didn’t understand completely until tonight that was the last man who is ever going to love me.

I just can’t live like this anymore.

I just can’t manage or deal with the stress and isolation of this life any longer.

Especially since I’ve come to understand Michael is the only man who has and will ever love me.

Laughter – Gone

The last time I remember really laughing was at Panera.

A man asked to meet me at Panera.  I was skeptical.  It felt like a set-up  – it was.

I walked into Panera with this man.  I showed up late, dirty hair in a ball cap because I intended to dye it later that evening.  I ate before because I didn’t want to share a meal with this man any longer because I cared nothing for this man.

At Panera, I saw him at a table with other men.  He had closed the door to him so severely, I didn’t go to his table to say, “hi.”  I walked outside without saying anything or even looking at him when I recognized him.

Yet, outside eating with this man I could feel him looking and watching me from the window.  As always when I was around him he turned something on that lit me from inside.

I was hilarious.  I was witty.  I was so funny.  I was improving and throwing out one-liners that would have entertained the entire world.

I knew I was funny.  Not because the man was laughing – I just knew I was funny on a professional level.

What I have learned.  What I understand – I will NEVER be that person again.

My proof is the last few times I’ve met him and been around him.

I’ve turned away.  I’ve not acknowledged him.

He walked by touching my knee at a bar a while ago.  I didn’t speak to him.  I touched his side as I left – that was all.

There was a time I thought I needed to speak to him one last time.  I guess that time is gone.

And with it, my laughter has gone.



What I Booked, Not What I Got

I come here to write.  Because I want to write.  Because I need to write.

All I get to do anymore is explain and report – at least that is what it feels like to me.

I used to have it.  I used to be able to free associate without being pushed, motivated, or told.

I guess, that was back when I still had feeling in my hands, freedom and control over my brain space.

So, now ALL I am left with is telling.  Which is not the same as writing – not to me.

Oh, how I miss the writing path I was on with control over my head and body.  I was just getting to a point of being extraordinary when it was taken away from me – stolen from me.

I did some travelling last year as a way to escape the prison of this house – twice it was an enormous mistake.  Twice I had booked reservations for a carefully planned out trip, yet was forced and manipulated into a different experience.

So, I am naming names here for anyone who cares even if it only me.

I wanted to stay at the Best Western in New Orleans even if it was on Rampart street.  I understood it to be the best choice for me.

I wanted to stay at The Key Lime Inn at Key West.  I was going back a second time to Key West for inspiration because it has gone from me entirely with the loss of control.  I need the inspiration to write again, so I can live instead wishing to die everyday.

I wish I could explain the means that were used to convince me that the decisions I made were incorrect.  But, how can I?!  Honestly, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

I wanted to go back to Key West to visit Ernest Hemingway’s house hoping for inspiration to write again.  Visiting his house a second time was the same as the first – it did nothing for me.

However, when I saw that the hotel I wanted to stay at was across the street from his house I nearly cried.  It was so much closer.  It would have been so much less walking.

I can’t stand this experience of being taken advantage of ALL of my memories.  It is shamefully disgraceful.

I would have had a front porch if I had been able to stay at the Key West Inn – all to myself.  It was nicer accommodations and everything.

It is so painful.

I’ve stopped paying attention anymore.  This life has gone on for too long now.




The End Of My Ability

Can someone please explain to me why a single man does not ask me out, does not ask for my time, does not ask me anything?!

I am not unattractive, or undesirable, or ugly, yet I am left in a prison and unbearably alone.

Still not writing.

This house is a prison.

Can someone please explain to me why every man I might find sexually attractive is already involved with another woman?!

I feel the time is too late and my time has long since passed.

Why do I continue on when I so clearly should let go of this life that has nothing left for me.

Let go of this life – Yes!

The Worst Person I’ve Ever Met

Watching movies.

So many movies I watch anymore are so depressing.  So unenjoyable.  So unbearable.

I used to love watching movies.

I would sit through a lousy picture in case there was a moment within the film I found of value.  I used to study film.  I would look to it for inspiration.

But then, I used to love and enjoy a lot of things before working at The Container Store.  Once, the illusion of my job, home, and car were no longer mine alone, but were completely filmed and monitored I have never been more depressed and suicidal.

The General Manager at The Container Store, Marvin Price was not always the same person.  He was in a body suit and costume.  Which goes for many of the other person at that store.

In fact, I believe that he, donned in costume, dated me several times.  There was always something wrong with every date I was on while working at The Container Store.  Worse still, most of the dates I was on they were men wearing full body suits – a complete costume from head to toe, including rubber dong.

I can only recall two dates where the men were not in costume and full body suits.  However, those dates were also off because they were monitored.  The men were not there because they wanted to date me.  They were using me to get information.

Being around this person – alias Marvin Price and so many others – has made me so miserable.

I believe “Marvin Price” also played the part of a woman.  So he was a man, playing the part of a woman pretending to be a lesbian.  Because he was a man who liked women.

That relationship was used as a way to torment and torture me.  Push me out the door so to speak.  It was used to get me – along with the unnatural tooth communication – to say some terrible words.  Of course, literally starving me to death, along with sleep depriving me, talking to me in the middle of the night through the microphones in my fans and through the tooth would have no other reaction than to drive a person completely out of their mind.

There is no way I would ever have said some of the things I said before.

I will not apologize for the way the experience made me feel.

I will say this, my words were not heard correctly.  In no way did I ever wish to take away any rights from any person regardless of color, nationality, sexual orientation, gender, or ethnicity.

I had been screaming at the top of my lungs for help, and no one listened or helped.

No one could have lived through the exact experience I did – violated, privacy invaded, deceived, and constantly lied to.

Doesn’t matter if I am correct with every detail.

I did not audition, or sign up to have my life taken away from me, or sign a contract, or agree to any such conditions.

You know, I never in my whole life ever heard my mother swear, except once.  We were having an argument about something, I was barely a teenager and she stopped me cold when she answered back, You had better goddamn respect me!

Perhaps because I never heard her swear even at my father – they were always having screaming fights – I am not sure, but I have remembered it to this day.

Without respect there is no value in any relationship.  For there is nothing of value that the other person or people find worthwhile enough to change, or stop, or alter for the sake of someone else.

You had better goddamn respect me!

They are words to live by.

I have been accused of not having enough confidence while working at The Container Store – something I have never been accused of before.  But, then that was Marvin Price who accused me of not having confidence.

How else was I supposed to deal with the knowledge that my work was not real?!  My home is a set-up for a reality show?!  My car has cameras and the radio is live?!

All this has done is taken strength away from me.  Stopped me from being me.  Stopped me from pursuing any dream I once had.

All I wanted after placing my mother in a nursing home was to marry a man who would love me for the rest of my life, and I could love him for the rest of my life.  Everything would have fallen into place.

The dentist.  I went to the appointment.  The nursing home set-up an appointment for my mother to go to the dentist.  I don’t know what that was but it was all a set-up.  Could have been a Marvin playing the dentist.  What a waste a time.

That person.  That Marvin Price has the worst effect on me.

I see no future.  I feel nothing but doors closing and an end.

Worse, I see a final end as the only possibility.




Life simply just does not exist here – where I am.

I am not used to living this way.  My whole life I’ve had living things around me in my home, my life, etc.

This is like living in some hotel with no personality or personal effects.  Actually, it is worse than living in a hotel because a hotel would have more personal effects and furniture.

I understand now why people don’t want to live in a place where they share walls with other people.

Looking for a photograph today, I came across pictures of me as a child reminding me of the very real pain that I can never bear children.  I couldn’t help thinking I would have had beautiful children.  A part of me I will not be able to have carry on.

Something else, looking at myself through the years – if no one else could – I saw the changes that happened.  My early childhood you could see the innocence, pure joy, and happiness not only on my face, but it affected others in the photographs as well.

Then, we moved.

Dramatically my face changed and altered.  Whether or not I was smiling my face is burdened with weight.

The first time we moved it was because my father had decided he was going to go to seminary school.  He didn’t even last a semester before dropping out entirely and never returned to school again.

The greatest memory of that time I have is him teaching my brother and I the Greek alphabet.  Quite honestly, I’m not sure he taught us, or I persisted in knowing about what he was doing until he thought of something that would keep me quiet.

We had a life and a home before we moved.  It takes years to build a life and a home.  People, friends, family members, and a home which is more than just things.  It is the memories you build and keep building your life around.

The move was very dramatic.  The strain on my parents marriage never seemed to leave me or my face.

I know my mother did not wish to die married to my father.  Decades she tried to divorce him.  Churches convincing her it was her duty as a christian woman to stay married.  Even after her strokes what she wrote about endlessly was divorcing and being divorced from my father.

I believe she decided in her heart that she was divorced.

No one but my brother might understand the truth I am writing.

My mother did not want to die married to my father.

In a way, I feel I let her down since I was not able to help her carry out her wish for a divorce.

My father should have divorced my mother since they did not live as husband and wife since I was very young.  He has/had many other women if not families.  He knew she did not wish to stay married to him –  he chose the cowards way and did nothing.  More importantly, he chose not to honor her wishes.

The sins of the parents, the problems they try to cover up in their marriage do not exist with just two people.  It affects the entire family outside even the immediate.

Problems in a marriage cannot be fixed quickly, but if and when problems in a marriage happen and they cannot be fixed leaving the problems to fester and cause further damage creates a ripple effect through the whole of society.  Like open wounds that ooze and puss, a band-aid will neither heal or help them.

A divorce probably would have meant other problems.  However, not addressing a problem, pretending what is real is not real and what isn’t real is real, not listening to the problem or concern, not taking your own ego out of the equation to hear the other person even if it is at the expense of your own heartbreak it is nothing more than a childish and juvenile notion of marriage and love.

When an ending needs to happen choosing to pretend otherwise is damaging for all persons involved.  It can also create some serious fatalities.

I have loved more than one man even at the expense of my own heartbreak.  Because as long as he was happy and had a full life, how could I not be happy for him in return?!

Perhaps not everyone loves the way I do – deeply and profoundly.

When it is real – it is real.  When it is not, no matter how many times you try asking it will never be.

Love and marriage can never be a metaphor – for there is no truth that can live in a metaphor.

Here I am absolutely isolated from the entire world.  It is an existence that has no depth or dimension.  I would never purposely choose this life, nor would I ever chose to give this life to any person.

My reality altered the day I understood the store I was working in was not real.  Since then, I see no possibility for a future, or happiness, or a life.  For it is not possible with this existence.

The day that car crashed into mine has altered me dramatically.

I will not continue to believe in a virtual possibility.  I know for certain, I cannot continue the same way the last few years have gone.

I feel my days are numbered.  I feel the end of my existence ever closer.  I feel a door closing where there should be a future.  That is a problem for me, as I have never lived without planning and having plans for the future – that has all gone from me long ago.