Light and Darkness

Simply

...i love.

Tied and Quartered

When overwhelmed, stressed, and depressed, I have no idea what needs my attention first. I avoid. I repress. I put blinders on and get an acute case of tunnel vision. This is the only way to enjoy the day at hand. Not a healthy way to approach life. I know. I've written at length about this.

But I feel my life is too much for one person to handle....at least this person. I have been very far behind for what seems eons and trying to address one issue at a time is stressful as well. If I could just be blessed in one area of my life, then maybe I'd be a bit more hopeful. I really am tired of struggling in everything I do. This head just barely above water bullshit is getting old.

Someone give me some working advice.

Power

Do you believe you have the power to get anything you want? Do you exercise such a gift; or afraid of what it may actually do for you, do you squander it?

A Love Letter

To the pothole at the beginning of my apartment complex that seems to be getting larger every day and that none seem to be responsible to repair.....

To the pothole filled with water making it deceptively smaller looking than it actually is.....

To the pothole that I know is there because I must drive over it each and every day to get home.....

To the pothole that despite trying to avoid, I hit coming home in the dark of night.....

To the pothole that my tire hit with such tremendous force that I actually thought that the earth's submerged geological plates had shifted causing a hole to open up at that precise moment swallowing me and my little red Corolla like a python swallows a fat pig, until I come to rest in the stomach of middle-earth where a species of alien-like creatures live as society insects such as ants and bees do, with no independent thought, so that the unexpected intrusion of me in my chariot of metal from the heavens is seen as miraculous.....

To the pothole that made me into a goddess of aforementioned creatures, directing every day living as well as sacred ritual, even against my will and my desire to turn to surface living and all the life I had known, because my presence destroyed all order and previous ways of their living; and escaping from the creatures would only cause them to surface and destroy the world and all that inhabit it, so my exile into the hive would be one of ultimate sacrifice for humankind.....

....thanks for fucking up my brand new tire.

Deadliest of Sins: Repression

Over the years, I have unleashed many of the beasts that torment me onto the pages of Vagabond. I think those that read this site will agree that those entries have been emotionally raw and terse at best and ugly and cuntish at worst. And some would agree that I've written less and less in at least a year's time.

I've tried to convince myself that writing is good because I know I cannot survive without words and expression. And when I sit down to write, I do nothing. I wonder if it's because I'm trying to be more respectful of those in my life that could be affected by what I express. Or is it because I truly having nothing unique to say.

I'm depressed. I'm punishing myself. I'm withholding what makes me happy. I haven't purged myself of all that emotional angst I've written about. Oh no. I've just expressed it in different ways. In oh so many ways. And the depression and anger and excitement that I once freely participated in from my teenage years until my early thirties have resigned themselves to apathy and silence.

Seriously, which is worse? The over the top outward vocalizations of a spirited person or the seemingly stoic coldness of said person?! Like the true bipolar that I seem to be (though I'm refusing to believe that i am anymore), I have no happy middle.

Apathy is worse. I think I live this way because I'm trying to not scare people away. My emotional side seems to have severed all my relationships so I try to compensate by expressing nothing. And I bet you're asking, "How's that working for you, Naomi?"

Shit! Does anyone have any tips on how to play nice with others?

As my birthday draws closer, I need to reexamine this latest approach...cause it ain't doin me no good! And my creative life is stagnant. That I can't handle.

Like Amelia

I am not great with the cold shoulder from people. I'd rather have a rough, punch in the face fight than get the the silent treatment, which is a bit demanding considering how I act when I am superbly pissed or uncaring with someone. A little insight into Naomi....if I'm still yelling at you and cursing, you're ok. Just ride the wave until I'm calm. But if I don't look at you. If I don't speak to you. If I don't acknowledge your existence in this world....you had better find a way to avoid me or you better make up for the FUCK-UP you did. Like I said, demanding and unfair of me.

When people start the silent treatment with me, I try as I might to keep them engaged. I continue to call or write. I do so hesitantly. I reduce the contact dramatically almost immediately in response but I keep trying to be friends or lovers with the person. I'll be the first to admit that I may be overreacting to the other party's silence. So, I try. If the silence persist, I ask what's up. And if that doesn't change anything, I go away.

I don't like the feeling that I'm bothering someone and that person doesn't have the courage to just tell me to go away. Hurt my feelings. At least tell me that you don't want me in your life. I spent my childhood trying to figure out where I belonged in other people's lives. I know exactly how I feel about people and their importance in my life, but I try to reserve that information until I know my value in the relationship. Silence just confuses me and causes major panic. In defense, I just leave a person be. I disappear in a manner of speaking.

It's a rough way to live.

Maybe she faked her death to avoid the effed up relationships in her life.

Discordant

I wish I had the ovaries to tell people what I think. I hate that I think I'm a bitch while others think I'm too nice. I need to get rid of some shit in my life.

Unlimited Potential

Watched What the Bleep?! Down the Rabbit Hole on Sunday. I need a new way of living because I'm damned tired of destroying myself.

I am. I may not have a gun at my temple, a razor at my wrist, or a bottle in my hand but I am killing myself. In a slow, seventh ring of hell sort of way, I am killing myself.

Last week, I programmed the suicide hotline number in my phone. That's a declarative with a lot of weight in it. So what does one do after saving such a number to her contacts? She....I look at what the FUCK are the alternatives to suicide.

I do not like that I treat myself with such contempt. I say with utter earnestness that I will help my worst enemy. Give that person a place to sleep, my last crumb of bread, and the clothes off my back. But me? I shit on what I am every day. Why?

I don't even know if it matters anymore the reasons why. It just has to stop.

I asked my friend, Michael to help. A therapist. A creative man. A well-read man. A human who like us all, has transformed through experience. At his nagging (filled with love) persistence of just a couple of days, I got a copy of the Bleep movie. Had heard of it and was curious about it before. No new theories or concepts in it. Things I had encountered through various classes and books and wanderings.

It was the frightening image of seeing the main character Amanda yell ugly remarks at herself in the mirror. I was....I am....her.

I would and have defended people being attacked by another in such a way. So why not me? Why haven't or can't I defend myself? Especially against the vicious self-inflicted attacks?

It can't continue. This way of thinking stops. Not "has to" or "will." It actively stops now.

I've been a parrot repeating the same phrase for two days now. A mantra. My mantra. NEW DAY, NEW WAY. I can't worry about tomorrow and can't undo yesterday. Today is a new day. So just for today, if that's all I can manage, I'm going to try a new way of doing things. A new way of looking at myself. A new way of loving myself. A new way of doing anything and everything. And if the whole day is too much? Then this moment. I'll take care of the next moment as it occurs but for THIS moment? A new way.

Nearly Empty and Uncrossed

I have a small red book, unsure now if it's real leather, that holds my Bucket List. Only a few pages are filled with the things I want to do before I die and only two items are marked off as being done.

I don't know why I find it difficult to put things on my list. No....I think I do. I always know why I do the things I do or don't do.

I shouldn't be afraid of putting things on my list, no matter how grandiose or improbable they are but that's how I live. Afraid to utter, speak aloud, what I desire.

I continue to punish and deprive myself long after others have stopped. It's a dangerous way to live.

I carry it and my journal with me every where. The only two items you are sure to find accompanying me. Not even my license has that to be said about it.
Perhaps if I can allow myself to even write my dreams down, imaginable or not, I can actually start living.

Tortoise versus Hare

Still deciding which one I am in this race called life. A mutated marriage of both perhaps.