Light and Darkness

Absence

I don't ask God for things anymore...at least not for me. If I hear that someone is sick or that someone has died, I'll ask God to look out for that person and the loved ones. I ask God to protect Emma. But for me? Forget it.

I've been angry towards God for a long time. I gave God everything when I was younger. So much faith. Everything that I am. At least I thought so. I would beat myself relentlessly for thinking that perhaps I was holding out on God. Such guilt. But now, I just scoff at God. I snub God. I taunt God.

Perhaps I think if I incur the wrath of God, I'll have some attention from the Almighty. Proof that God exists.

Isn't that what's happening now? Seems like I shouldn't complain for all the crap in my life. I've brought it upon myself.

Non-believers and fucking optimists will advise me to just do it. Make my mind up and just change my life. To you, I give you the finger and say FUCK YOU! Take your worse imaginable day and multiply it a thousand fold. Then tell me whether or not you can get your fucking optimist ass out of bed and just take charge of your life. FUCK YOU!!! I'll fucking bash your face in if you tell me to just overcome this shit.

Followers of God, just don't talk to me. You don't know what you are talking about. Unless God, itself, came down from the throne on high, wrote a personal message for me, and asked you to deliver it to me personally.....I'm not listening to you. You don't know what God thinks about me. And the Bible doesn't mean jack. Honestly, man wrote it and it's a nice pamphlet and all....sort of guidelines...but it's not God.

I'm mad.

I think that under the circumstances of my life, I've done alright for myself. I've not killed anyone in my fits of rage. I've never been arrested. I've curbed most of my immoral and impetuous instincts so much so that I'm a zombie within. BUT...and this is a big ass BUT...I'm not strong. I've never been that strong. I've only just survived, waiting for someone or something bigger than me to fucking help. I've been promised that for so long. All of the spiritually inclined which includes every friggin person on this fucking piece of rock called Earth (and don't argue scientists or whatnot because their religion and spirituality is tied up in a different form of mysticism and such and honestly, I'm not in the mood for anyone to disagree with me right now...want a fight? Go sod yourself!)

I had decided to not send Em with my sister. The separation would have been to great for the both of us. Other circumstances such as money, space, and adjustment were of issue also. Instead, I had opted to make things stronger here for the both of us after a committment to the hospital. My mother who I have very s-l-o-w-l-y started talking to, had offered to help when she initiated contact on Em's birthday. I was hesitant. Alway am. But she said she would help if I need to seek out psychiatric help. I asked her yesterday if she would help with Em, allowing her to stay with her. "It will cut into my time, but I guess I can pick Em up and drop her off at school." Trying to explain that I needed more, she started yelling at me about everyone else in her life: my brother, her employees, and the fact that I made Jenn come here to take Em with her and then didn't send Em. Basically, Mrs. Devine's help is a patronizing hand extended as a disclaimer that she offered me assistance.

God is no different.

I wish I could say that God doesn't exist. But God does. As easily as I can say that my hair is brown, I can say God exists. So, what the fuck?! Was I that evil in a previous incarnation?

Unless you plan to drive to Pensacola to care for Em while I commit myself for a much needed visit to the loony bin...don't say shit. I don't want to hear it.

I've been doing things 'not me' lately. Craving cigs, pot, and alcohol. I've indulged in all. Hearing voices. Calling my name. Talking. Almost like ghosts in the house. Quieting the need to yell at random people...even wanting to get into physical altercations with them. Violent, self-abusive, sexual thoughts. Will not engage in any of them for fear of being killed. My heart has been chaotic. Sometimes pounding so violently in my chest and throat. Other times so silent, I almost convince myself that I'm not alive. And the chestpains have been unbearable....fear I've been having mini cardiac episodes of something or another. Been scared that I'll turn the corner and find the devil waiting for me. Been very uncautious on the road, swerving unintentionally into other lanes of traffic and onto the shoulder....just drifting in the car going well over the speed limit.

And I ask....Where's God?

It Never Seems to End

I am on the verge of my family committing to the psychiatric ward at Lakeview. I called my sister in a state of neurosis, rage, humility, depression, and suicidal ideation. She drove here from Memphis in the middle of the night with her boys, forgoing work and any other obligation at home. She leaves tomorrow. And I have the painful decision of whether or not Em goes with her to live.

I...I'm close to my end. If I don't let Em go, I may destroy her with who I am. If I entrust her to my sis, I'm dead.

Jenn said she won't take her if I don't promise to not do anything. She said she would only take her for a short time, approximately a year to get myself well. But the loneliness is unbearable know. It would suffocate me if the only constant in my life leaves. There are the feelings of guilt also. The needling voice that I am failing miserably as a mother...as an adult...as a person.

My mindset is in the extreme right now. I need something more than this life right now. I'm not in good judgement of what I should do. Years of my life and all the issues that I've avoided are not easily ignored now. My coping skills are inadequate. What am I to do?

The Daughter

Her mother was always very sad. Even when her laughter filled a room. Even when her voice swam in the air in song. There always seemed to be a sadness that lingered in her eyes. That darkness poured from her like sweat on a hot ninety degree day. The crinkle of her smiling eyes were always slightly moist from the deep blue that smothered her soul.

And all that the daughter could do was watch and wait. She knew it was only a matter of exhaustion before permanent sleep would overcome her mother. The tired fight thrown finally when no respite would replenish her spirit. And the girl knew it was an "eventually".

Eventually Mom would simply give up and die. Give up on trying to find her happiness. Give up on healing her wounds. Give up on wanting to rise in the morning and giving it a go. Eventually Mom would close her eyes and give up.

This sadden the daughter. She wished she could give her mom the spirit within her own body. Let her, no, make her see the light that was more intense than the darkness. She wanted her mother to know the woman she saw and loved every day.

A woman who found joy, no matter how small or brief in the simplest things. Finding a new root in a plant cutting. Walking barefoot in the mud. Laughing at the cats staring at an untouchable lizard. Picking up a rock in the parking lot.

The daughter pushed those images from her mind forward at her mother. She willed them to enter her mom's mind. She prayed that this sad woman would only see the happiness she really, truly had.

But those images seem to always hang there in the nothingness. They never seemed to move beyond the empty space directly before her mother.

So, the daughter could only wait. Wait and watch her mother torment herself with the infinite sadness. She waited for the the end. She watched with the same sadness her mother exhaled constantly.

The daughter wanted to scream out that she loved her mother but she knew the words would only be swallowed by the black hole. So, the daughter watched and waited. Watched and waited for the sadness to silence her mother's world. And her own.

"Mom, Look at the Monkeys!"

I like to describe my mood status as swinging through the branches of the emotional tree.

Today is no different. I hate it.

Woke up. Hated everyone.

This morning I dropped Em off at school and went home and slept. Depressed and feeling sorry for myself.

Checked on a job lead after paying a bill. Feeling dead.

Stopped at the cafe and saw Steph and Tony (new barista). Pissy and depressed. Then silly and playful.

Picked Em up. HATE EVERYONE AGAIN.

Library visit. Depressed, morbidly depressed, frustrated, hateful, lonely, pissy.

Mad at everyone for no particular reason. Angry at specific people for VERY particular reasons.

At the moment, I want to point a damn gun at my temple and blow my friggin brains out.

Remember that scene in The Sound of Music where the Von Trappe children were hanging in the trees?

Yeah, that's how I feel.

Fundraiser Time

I'm pimping my child's school. It's fall fundraiser time, and we all know the diminished funds going into education. If you are interested in supporting Em's school, that would be fantastic. I've already sent out some emails to some of you. I apologize if I've offended anyone but it's worth a shot to help the PTA. Anyone else that I haven't already contacted, I'm providing the link. Thanks in advance for the support. By the way....there are prizes for the kids for selling items during the fundraiser.

Thanks again.

Brentwood Elementary Fall Fundraiser

Student login name:EMMALINEPTA

Job Hunt

Looking for a job again. Here's what I've picked up applications for already:

Bookstore
Optometrist shop
Retail clothing shop
Sex shop

Hmmmm. So many choices.

One Thing by Finger Eleven

Restless tonight
Cause I wasted the light
Between both these times
I drew a really thin line
It’s nothing I planned
And not that I can
But you should be mine
Across that line

If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Just for one thing
If I sorted it out
If I knew all about this one thing
Wouldn’t that be something

I promise I might
Not walk on by
Maybe next time
But not this time

Even though I know
I don’t want to know
Yeah I guess I know
I just hate how it sounds

If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Just for one thing
If I sorted it out
If I knew all about this one thing
Wouldn’t that be something

If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Just for one thing
If I sorted it out
If I knew all about this one thing
Wouldn’t that be something

Even though I know
I don’t want to know
Yeah I guess I know
I just hate how it sounds

Even though I know
I don’t want to know
Yeah I guess I know
I just hate how it sounds

If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Just for one thing
If I sorted it out
If I knew all about this one thing
Wouldn’t that be something

If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Just for one thing
If I sorted it out
If I knew all about this one thing
Wouldn’t that be something

If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Just for one thing
If I sorted it out
If I knew all about this one thing
Wouldn’t that be something

Chuck Lorre's Vanity Cards

Anyone else watch Dharma & Greg? At the end of each episode after the credits, there was a white background with small print after Chuck Lorre Productions. But it flashes by and you may get one or two words. WELLLLLLLL. I am a curious sort and wanted to read them.

For everyone else who wondered what the hell was being flashed.

Get outta my way!

I do not have a fondness for driving. In the infancy of my license, I loathed driving. I hated driving. And I blame the other drivers on the road. But as I enter into the early part of my thirties, I have calmed my intense dislike for driving. It's not as bad. And the cursing has slowed to a stuttered word or two....sometimes.

And here is the big but, folks. BUT I am absolutely tired of people who purchase large vehicles and DO NOT KNOW HOW TO DRIVE THEM!!!! Get off the road, please before I have a friggin fit and my eyes pop out of my head from the pressure of maintaining my calm.

I have nothing, absolutely nothing, against SUV or trucks with the extended cabs. Nothing. I have no ill-will against mini-vans or full-size trucks. Again, nothing. I DO have problems with people who insist on purchasing them and refuse to learn to drive them properly.

Example....

Last week Emma and I decided to visit Steph at the cafe after school. I pull into the parking lot which was crowded as usual. Unfortunately I pulled in facing a large SUV driven by a person who wanted the space that just emptied. The driver turns to drive into it but realizes that she hadn't given herself enough space to do so. So, she put it into reverse and started to backup. Evidently she thought she had pulled out far enough and started to move forward into the space. Nope. Not enough room. So, she reversed the vehicle again and attempted to claim the space once more. Uh-uh.

Now I was waiting patiently during this with an eyeroll or two. I waited for her third attempt at the space when nothing happened. She was sitting crookedly half in the space and half in the lot; and when I focused on her face, I saw her talking on her cellphone. That's it. She had stopped to take or make a call. And she sat that way for several minutes blocking my way.

If I deserved to cuss at any time in my life, that was it.

I squeezed pass her and found another space elsewhere. When Em and I walked by her vehicle on our way into the building, she was standing on the grassy side talking on the phone. A male companion was in the driver's seat parking the SUV.

Learn to drive those gas guzzlers, people! I don't care if you own them. I don't care if you don't use the space inside of them for nothing but groceries or show. But learn to manuever them. Or I'll trade you. Give me yours and I'll teach you to drive something smaller like my Nissan Sentra.

Weather Wrap-Up

Pensacola was spared from the bad weather. Until Bonnie and Charlie hit Florida, we were hit with storms. That's all. When the weather actually hit further south, our weather here in the Panhandle cleared up. The skies were a brilliant blue, the temperature cooled ever so slightly but still noticeably, and a breeze eased us through the weekend.

We were the fortunate ones.

By now, most of you have heard the news of areas not so blessed. People died as a direct result of Charlie and during the aftermath. Millions of dollars of damage. Small business owners without their livelihood. Families without their homes. Supplies dwindling and non-existent.

I fear for this upcoming hurricane season. Seems we've started early this year and in quite a startling way. But Em and I and the other residents of Pensacola are fine. As usual there is the over-zealous reaction to "what-ifs" around here. Shelves are bare in certain aisles.

The Land Down Under

Ok. If this isn't the proverbial pot calling the kettle black. Nicole Sanderson of the Australian Volleyball 2-Person Team is a bit pissed off about the scantily clad females cheering during the Olympic sporting event. Evidently the bikinis, which are the same friggin size of what she digs out of her ass each game, and the women wearing them are offensive.

Um, I'm not saying that having cheerleaders of only the female persuasion is not offensive but since when did it now just become an issue? If you turn on a television set on a given day, at any given time, audiences will be bombarded with women parading around in anything from a towel to their undergarments. More female skin is shown in our culture than male. AND it's used to sell anything from douches and tampons to cars and allergy medicine.

It becomes a mute point when a female wearing a bikini is out there spiking balls and serving aces. If you are offended, Nicole then put more clothes on so that you prevent any excited male (or female) from getting more so when they congregate at your matches just to watch your boobs jump and your ass wiggle. Give me a fucking break!

Bonnie and Charlie

For those of you wondering how we are faring with the tropical storms out there on our coast (thank you, Sami), we are...unfortunately...fine.

Since we've moved here, I have yet to experience any weather in need of courageously heroic living on our part. Rain. That's all we've got. And nothing torrential either. It will rain hard with the accompanying lightening and thunder but then it will taper off. Nothing incessant.

I want to brave a storm. COME ON! I mean, I moved here hoping to record climate of epic proportions. And I've experienced nothing but the idiocy of people panicking in the stores...which is quite funny, actually.

When I lived in Tennessee, I missed the Great Ice Storm that hit Memphis and surrounding areas in the nineties because I was attending college in Jackson. When I moved back to that area, Jackson and its surrounding areas got hit by tornadoes. Such is the case in every place I've lived when I had the interest of experiencing some storm.

Philippines...evidently no typhoons or extreme rainy season when I lived there. Along the east coast...nothing severe in the towns I lived. Moved away from Indianapolis only to have friends there write me about being stuck at school when tornadoes touched down.

The worse thing that I've had to brave is the rainstorm during my senior year in highschool. The rain wouldn't stop and the roads were flooded outside the school. We lost power for a couple of hours during the school day. BUT that cleared up within hours.

So....we're fine. Tropical Storm Bonnie is scheduled to hit Panama City which is a couple hours east of Pensacola and TS Charlie has its eyes set on the Florida Keys.

Man, they get all the excitement!

"Tell me about yourself."

If there is a question more difficult to answer than that, I'd like to know. It varies in degrees according to social and professional circumstances, but it still rings as the same four words.

I don't like answering it. I'd rather have direct questions to answer. But with such a vague command, one opens a floodgate for complex answers. Where in my nearly thirty-two years of life, excluding my womb time, do I pull experiences to describe?

Do I tell you that when I was five I learned to ride without training wheels on my father's ten-speed down a steep hill in Beaufort, South Carolina because I was too embarrassed to acknowledge my dependence on training wheels?

Or do I simply explain the remorse I still have to this day for accidentally killing at least a dozen frogs and toads by drowning having left them in an empty trashcan overnight that filled up with rain?

Still yet....At sixteen I attempted suicide which sentenced a second go round at a mental hospital in Jacksonville, North Carolina and my committal ended because a riot broke out in the facility?

Do I come out and say that despite what my grades will tell you, I've been referred to as one of the smartest people they've known by people who did graduate in the top ten, and I've tutored people older than me in classes I've never taken?

Would it surprise you that in a public forum, after you've asked me to tell you about myself that I said love oral sex or that back rubs give me orgasms?

Are you going to look at me funny when I tell you that I give into random acts of hedonism like drinking the rain water off of my garden's elephant ears or licking the smooth inside surface of my conch shell just to see what it's like?

I hate the question. My life and personality can not be summed up in the span you so neatly want it to be. No one's can. I hate the question even more because I don't think most people sincerely mean it. They want small packages of safe, concrete answers. It's the same with "how are you?" When did that become a greeting instead of a question of genuine concern and care?

But there's no denying that I ponder the socratic conundrum of knowing myself.

Who am I?

I know the answers better than most. I have more introspection than most on not just my life but the surrounding atmosphere where I struggle. I want to get it out of me. I want to vomit and bleed out all that I have swallowed and pulled into me. And there's more to say but I don't think you'd appreciate my intruding harm upon your small, safe, quiet sensibility.

Bar Codes and Simon and Garfunkel

Is it just me or does anyone else miss the check out cards in library books? Pulling out a book and catching a glimpse of the history of it. Who read it last? How long did it sit on a nightside table? Strangers tied by the umbilical cord of words, plot twists, and emotions. Proudly signing your own name to the growing list on the cardstock.

With our disposal society comes bar codes. I know it's not as pessimistic as that. I love the computers to search for books (though card catalogues are treasured if you master them) and put items on hold. But what's missing? Only librarians privy to the unimportant recorded history. Names as sacred as the Jewish calling of The Holy One. No more secret glance at Bob Smith or Jane Doe. I know it's done in protection of our privacy but risking a connection. Our souls wither from such isolation, I think. Without knowing it, we sense this disconnection and lost.

I am a rock. I am an island.

The Blues

I'm suddenly very sad today. No matter what anyone says...you never get use to the mood swings. It's a reminder that I fail to be normal. That I can't succeed as a functioning adult. I hate it.

I don't know what has brought about the melancholy. Perhaps the sudden loneliness with Emmaline having returned to school yesterday. Everyone I know is preoccupied with life in some way; and I sit alone with too much time and too much silence. All that's good for is thinking.

I've been reading. This summer has renewed my thirst for books. I go through slumps when I don't read a single word. Strike that. I read the street signs and bills. But with no job and no money, the library had become my solace. I finished Memoirs of a Geisha, The Lord of the Flies, An Inconvenient Wife, and The Jataka Tales over the last week. Reading The Singing Fire and The Known World but no doubt that I will pick up about three more today.

President Bush is in town today. Campaigning to the Pensacolans. I would love to have gone had I known earlier that he would be here. BUT some of my friends will know this as true...I tend to neglect the news. It enrages me and I go without at times. Easier to live ignorantly in bliss at times. But I digress. It would have been nice to attend to listen to the man in person. I have opinions about his presidential term but I'll just pass by them with a nice little "I just don't care for his politics."

Watched a sad little foreign film this weekend. The Circle. I recommend watching it. It shows the fate of several women in Iran. For crimes that most of western society see as laughable, these women are condemned to shame, inprisonment, and death. The movie is in Farsi with subtitles.

My mother surprised me Saturday. She came by early in the morning before trekking to work. She had brought Em her birthday gifts. When she asked about our plans for the day, she did the most unexpected thing. She grabbed me, pulled me to her in a hug, and said she was sorry. I couldn't do much of anything but cry and not that cute, petite crying reserved for a sentimental card. I was ugly crying. I muttered that I was sorry also. For Em's birthday, she took us for a Mexican lunch. We chatted a bit but I have my reservations still...sigh...I don't know what to do about it all.

My brother is not doing well. He's in the same sad state as I. He suffers from issues that he is now just coming out with including depression. He is not getting any help though. Shawn said in no uncertain terms that if I offed myself, he was going to follow. I hate that responsibility. I feel this huge weight on me because he said that. It's not encouragement to keep me going. It's fear that I will cause someone grievous harm. I can't tell from one day to the next how much longer I'll live in this world, and I don't want anyone to be short-changed because I can't keep it together.

Friends have mentioned how cryptic I have been with posts and e-mails. I'm sorry. It's just how I get. I feel like a bloody broken record and feel it's just easier to shut up. Don't want to be an emotional vampire. Unfortunately, I've found that my silence is just as draining as my emotionally verbal diarrhea. Eh!

I want to thank everyone who has given Em a birthday greeting, card, gift. Thank you. She is in love with all of you as I. It means a lot to a child knowing that a community of people think of her and cherish her. We're poor fools but richer than kings.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PIE!!!

Today is one of the greatest days of my life. It is my daughter's birthday. Emma is a constant reminder that God exists. I can have no doubt. I can have no excuse. God is real simply because I have such a beautiful gift in life in my daughter.

With such treasures as our children, we are reminded of the responsibility of having them in our lives. Religious Christians will say that the pain of childbirth is a reminder of Eve's sin in the Garden of Eden. To me it's a glorious reminder that with the precious weight of my child, comes the tough reality of responsibility in caring for her.

Nine years ago, I was in labor with my child for two days. I was sent home from the hospital twice before they finally allowed me to stay. I was in recovery for twelve hours. I was dangerously ill expelling Em from my womb. And I'm glad for all that pain.

Again...a reminder to me. A reminder that a life will never be pain free. A life will never be without risk. A life will never be easy or handed to me on a silver platter. I will have to grunt and scream. I will have to be denied. I will have to sweat and swear. I will have to rely on others to calm me. I will have to ignore the pain as well as work through it. I will have labor and ills and recovery. But in the end...I will have something far more valuable than I know. Something that is placed in my arms and entrusted to me. Something to care for and love unconditionally. Something that requires my life full of its unique wisdom in order to survive.

Emma is my reminder that beauty exists. That God exists. That words fail. That logic falls away. That emotions are no longer concrete ideas that can be described but physical pains that catch in my gut, my heart, my throat, and my brain.

So...my daughter. I love you. I love you with a brightness that makes stars jealous. I love you with a strength that makes mountains crumble. I love you with all of my being...and when I think that I'm close to describing the infinite love I have for you, I love you even more.

Memories...in the corner of my mind

Oh god, remember?!

One Question

I've already posted this at the PlanetThoughtful message board, but not everyone who reads this goes there.

If God gave you the opportunity to ask Him/Her a question that He/She would answer without fail, what would you ask?

Where in the world is Brian Spitzer?

For a brief respite from internet surfing, check out my friend's page. I first met Brian in middle school with our shared interest in theatre...we met during play rehearsal. BUT we truly became friends during Mr. Schattner's algebra class at Guion Creek Middle School in Indianapolis. I was in eighth and he was in seventh; and due to Mr. Schattner's wise choice of alphabetical seating, we were introduced.

Enjoy!

And now for something completely different.

Papa

As mentioned previously, my sister and her boys were in town this past weekend. She told me something that is twisting in my stomach. She said our father is not looking well. He has been seeing the doctor quite often but hasn't said what specifically is wrong with him.

I don't speak much about him because I don't know how to address the subject. I just don't talk to him anymore. Since his wedding which was nearly two years ago, we've pretty much stayed away from one another.

I feel like a callous person in regards to my relationships with both my mother and father. It's really not like me. I strive my whole life to attain some sort of working relationship with my parents but alas, it seems to be a unsurmountable goal. I love...or loved...my parents with an intensity that is destroying me still to this day. It's really quite sad.

My sister asked me if I hated our papa since youth. No. He's the only one I know. He came into my life before words were concrete in my toddler mind. I've never been told that he was not my natural father. I've always just known. And when he first appeared, I clung to him with such verocity that I think the pains that occurred following just made the separation from him hurt more. I told Jenn that the first time I felt a hate...perhaps not hate but anger, disappointment, sadness are the proper terms...towards him was when I overheard him refer to me as "that bitch daughter of yours." I had waken in the middle of the night and heard my parents argue in the living room.

My heart split apart then. I was told until then how much my own natural father didn't want me. My own mother had such anger and hate towards me. And then the man that I believed loved me as his own flesh and blood, who loved me as much as his own natural children (my half siblings), drove a spike into my heart. He wounded me. He said what every one else seemed to say, "She's not mine. I want no part of her." Without realizing it, I removed myself from him permanently that night.

But I still strive to get this love from my parents...at least I did. I don't speak to either of them unless they initiate any communication. Unfortunately I have to remove myself from them in order to just get by. And I'm barely surviving as is.

Hearing this news from my sister breaks my heart. I worry about my parents. I feel like an ungrateful bitch that only hurts people in my life especially my parents. I'm scared at the thought that either of them leaving this world without resolving this pain between us. And I don't want either of them suffering from anything....I don't.

Not too long ago, I had a dream of my father dying. And now he is ill. He looks so ill that his family including his two sisters who are nurses called Jenn after he and his wife left our family reunion in Colorado to ask what's wrong with him. My father said he's fine. We don't believe him.

When my parents were divorcing, my father suffered a brain aneuryism. When the surgeons operated, they discovered that it had been there for quite some time and the man shouldn't have survived. Now I wonder what is ailing him. And I'm scared. I'm absolutely terrified. My papa may be sicker than I know, and I don't know what to do.