Over the weekend, I watched a program on the History Channel about the rise and fall of Hitler and The Third Reich. It really got me thinking about injustice and courage. At the end of the programming, they detailed the accounts of Germans returning to their country in ruins. They became impoverished and for the most part, homeless. Germany, especially Berlin, was reduced to ashes and rubble. For three years, they lived on near-starvation conditions. In fact, Germany's restoration wasn't even completed until the 1980's. But what struck me was my reaction to it. Part of me did feel bad for the Germans, but a bigger part of me did not.
I found myself wondering how a nation could let a man as twisted as Adolf Hitler come to power. Yes, I know these were different times, and I also understand that beliefs were also very different. I also realize that Hitler lied and fooled an entire country. What I don't understand is why, when he began his incessant ramblings about "the Jewish problem" and creating the "Master Race", did bells not go off in these people's minds? I know it did for some, for a lot actually, according to many written accounts. There was even a plot to assassinate Hitler, though it failed. But it came far too late, even if it had been successful. I also know that Hitler was greatly feared because he ruled by fear. I get it; he was a tyrant, a dictator, a very sick individual. And when you have the proverbial gun (or a real one) pointed at your head, it's not very difficult to buckle under the pressure. I get that too.
What has been gnawing at me is the lack of courage to stand up for the, what became pretty obvious to me, gross injustice that inevitably played out. Had his closest officers (although many were as sick and idealistic as Hitler) stood up and spoke out, along with those who could see what was happening, would he have even been allowed to come to power? I wonder why when those closest to Hitler knew what his plans were, and what was going on, they lacked the courage to stand against it. But I think I know why. It comes back to fear. How true is it that the vast majority would let others perish to save their own asses? I probably will get a lot of shit for that statement, but just think about it for a moment. Would you submit to such evils out of fear, knowing that someone else would die in your place? And how the Jews suffered; we all know the stories of experimentation, starvation, torture, and unmerciless death. Only to have their lifeless bodies be herded into trenches like garbage. I don't think anyone has suffered more in history than they did. I can't even imagine what it must have been like. I don't want to. So how can I be sympathetic toward a people who turned a blind eye out of fear and reprisal? Are humans as a whole not just as responsible for injustice and cruelty as the person or persons exacting it if we stand by and do nothing?
So it got me to thinking about my own courage and my own fears. I know at the very core of my being, I would die for those I loved. I would jump in front of a bullet aimed toward my son. I would fight til the death to protect my family, anyone in my family...of that, I'm sure. But how many of us, MYSELF INCLUDED, would do it for a stranger? If you were walking down the street and a thug was mugging and stabbing someone on the sidewalk, would you just stand there terrified and immobile? Or would you try to help the victim, regardless of the obvious danger? I honestly couldn't tell you if I could or would, and I really hope I am never in that situation. But I wonder how many of us would act, for that or any other act of cruelty or injustice. How many times have you seen a video on the Internet of beatings, stabbings, or shootings and people just walk on by? And the person behind the lens - shouldn't they at least be dialing 9-1-1, if nothing else?? And I guess what bothers me most of all, is that people are constantly yammering about what is wrong with this world - the inequalities, the injustices, and the whatever-elses, but how many of those loud booming voices actually have the courage of their convictions? I'm not saying that there is no one. There are those that are completely selfless, and I applaud them.
The bottom line is that we are all family, we are all connected. As a species, as humans, as a people. Fear breeds the world's cruelties and injustices. I also believe that fear in our own personal lives breeds selfishness. I'm guilty of it as much as the next person. There are fears that I have that have caused chaos in my own life that, had I just spoken out about them, or against them, I would not have ended up in the predicaments that I did. And I would not have hurt others in the process just to "save my own ass". I feel like, for me, living and roaming about the world with the attitude that others are just as significant as I am can bring about a profound change. Not just in myself, but those around me, and those that I come in contact with every day. That fighting for my own life and my own rights means fighting for yours too. No matter that I do not know who you are; you are me, and I am you.
AJW 6/22/11
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Tearing Down the Sanctuary Walls
It occurred to me the other day that I am all too comfortable being alone. Obviously, I'm not really alone; I have my family, my friends. But when I go through issues, as we all so often do, I draw back from the world and everything in it. I know that's not good. But I'm working to change that. For me, being and/or feeling alone has both it's drawbacks and it's advantages.
The advantage of being alone, in the physical sense, is that, like it or not, you're forced to learn to depend on yourself and move through the world on your own two feet. Before my husband, I learned through being by myself most of the time that I needn't depend on other people to define who I am. Having someone by my side was just a bonus, and if and when it did happen, it would be a genuine companionship - not one based out of need, in any form. Being independent definitely gave me a strong sense of self and a strength I didn't always realize that I had. Discovering who I really am has been a long, slow process though, marked by periods of self-medication. In those times I lose a part of myself and even after regaining clarity, I always need to rediscover it again. Despite the obvious drawbacks of addiction, one thing is true about coming out of the other side of it: I keep learning something new about myself.
Being alone has given me time to think, to realize, to discover, and above all, to learn who I am and what makes me tick. And more importantly, to look at everything in life, in my life, as a lesson, and to change those things which would block my path to real, personal growth. Not one person on this Earth can do that for me; I have to learn and change that for myself.
As for its disadvantages, well, the dark part of me has in some way always felt all alone in this world. I know now that's not true, but growing up I felt isolated despite those that were around me. I explained this before in a previous blog. So, when something felt uncomfortable, negative, or there were things I just had a hard time dealing with, I withdrew from the world and into my own. I know it's not a good thing, and my own little universe can be a very dark and scary place. The labyrinth in my head has way too many dark corners to hide in. I've gotten so used to hiding there over the years that it is a natural and automatic reaction to recede within, curl up in the fetal position, and ride the storm out where it's safe.
So for the last three weeks, between bad news, Father's Day, and the one year anniversary of my Dad's passing approaching, I've obviously been a bit down. I felt myself withdrawing - hanging back from everyone to deal with things in my own way, in my own mind. The key thing is though, I realized it. I never have before. I noticed that my phone, which my face is usually buried in to text all day, was placed wherever in my house and I didn't really care if it rang and I didn't hear it. I noticed that going anywhere was a task. I didn't feel like it. I'd have to force myself to be around people, and then when I was, I was already thinking about when I could return home, and retreat to the dark sanctuary in my head. And don't ask me what's wrong, because I am never going to tell you. Maybe a snippet or two, but not the whole thing. I can't.
But, I CAN. And I have, at least with my husband. Even if I only spill my guts to one person, it keeps it from festering in the Sanctuary. It is difficult as hell but I do it because I HAVE to. I'm not used to pouring out my feelings. At least not the negative ones. It helped, and I'm slowly coming around. To the rest of the world, I'm still hiding behind my mask of Humor, but at least at home, I know it's okay to be myself. I know it's okay to be sad. I know I don't have to put my happy face on all the time. And I know that in my home, I am loved for who I am regardless of how I am feeling. It is this last epiphany that drives me to keep going and to stand strong no matter what gets thrown my way, or in the way of the people I love the most. Growth, it seems, is not beyond me. And I'm so enjoying it.
~AJW 6/22/11~
The advantage of being alone, in the physical sense, is that, like it or not, you're forced to learn to depend on yourself and move through the world on your own two feet. Before my husband, I learned through being by myself most of the time that I needn't depend on other people to define who I am. Having someone by my side was just a bonus, and if and when it did happen, it would be a genuine companionship - not one based out of need, in any form. Being independent definitely gave me a strong sense of self and a strength I didn't always realize that I had. Discovering who I really am has been a long, slow process though, marked by periods of self-medication. In those times I lose a part of myself and even after regaining clarity, I always need to rediscover it again. Despite the obvious drawbacks of addiction, one thing is true about coming out of the other side of it: I keep learning something new about myself.
Being alone has given me time to think, to realize, to discover, and above all, to learn who I am and what makes me tick. And more importantly, to look at everything in life, in my life, as a lesson, and to change those things which would block my path to real, personal growth. Not one person on this Earth can do that for me; I have to learn and change that for myself.
As for its disadvantages, well, the dark part of me has in some way always felt all alone in this world. I know now that's not true, but growing up I felt isolated despite those that were around me. I explained this before in a previous blog. So, when something felt uncomfortable, negative, or there were things I just had a hard time dealing with, I withdrew from the world and into my own. I know it's not a good thing, and my own little universe can be a very dark and scary place. The labyrinth in my head has way too many dark corners to hide in. I've gotten so used to hiding there over the years that it is a natural and automatic reaction to recede within, curl up in the fetal position, and ride the storm out where it's safe.
So for the last three weeks, between bad news, Father's Day, and the one year anniversary of my Dad's passing approaching, I've obviously been a bit down. I felt myself withdrawing - hanging back from everyone to deal with things in my own way, in my own mind. The key thing is though, I realized it. I never have before. I noticed that my phone, which my face is usually buried in to text all day, was placed wherever in my house and I didn't really care if it rang and I didn't hear it. I noticed that going anywhere was a task. I didn't feel like it. I'd have to force myself to be around people, and then when I was, I was already thinking about when I could return home, and retreat to the dark sanctuary in my head. And don't ask me what's wrong, because I am never going to tell you. Maybe a snippet or two, but not the whole thing. I can't.
But, I CAN. And I have, at least with my husband. Even if I only spill my guts to one person, it keeps it from festering in the Sanctuary. It is difficult as hell but I do it because I HAVE to. I'm not used to pouring out my feelings. At least not the negative ones. It helped, and I'm slowly coming around. To the rest of the world, I'm still hiding behind my mask of Humor, but at least at home, I know it's okay to be myself. I know it's okay to be sad. I know I don't have to put my happy face on all the time. And I know that in my home, I am loved for who I am regardless of how I am feeling. It is this last epiphany that drives me to keep going and to stand strong no matter what gets thrown my way, or in the way of the people I love the most. Growth, it seems, is not beyond me. And I'm so enjoying it.
~AJW 6/22/11~
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
An Open Letter To My Dad
As Father's Day approaches, my first without my Dad, I've been thinking a lot about all the things left unsaid between us. I meant to write him a letter, and put it in his casket, but because I was relapsed at the time, I didn't do it. I feel ashamed that it happened, especially during that time, but in retrospect, I would rather write that letter to him now, while my head and thoughts are clear.
Before I do though, I think it is important to note that what I am about to say should have been said to my Dad long ago. I never had the courage to tell him how I felt. I struggle with that in all of my relationships. I wish I had just sat down and had a long heart to heart with him about our relationship. We have had mini conversations about it, and particularly about my struggles with addiction, but what I always really wanted to truly tell him, I couldn't. I learned a huge lesson from this. As painful as it might have been to say what was in my heart, it would have been the right thing to do. Now he is gone and all I can do is write this letter. Never wait to tell someone how you feel, they may be gone tomorrow.
Dear Dad,
It is coming up on one year since you left us, and our first Father's Day without you. I wish I had had the courage to tell you all that I'm about to say while you were here. I'm sorry that I couldn't. I hope that when I was holding your hand and you drew your last breath, you felt and heard what I was saying to you in my heart. It silently spoke, "I love you, Dad, and I always have."
For many, many years, our relationship was rocky at best. I thought you hated me, honestly. I resented you for your brutal honesty, your distance from me, your lack of emotional attachment, and never hugging me or telling me you loved me. It ate at me for so long. But as I look back, I think I know why you were so hard on me. It really WAS because you loved me. You wanted better for me and whether I believed it at the time or not, I am more like you than I ever used to care to admit. You saw yourself in me, and tried to shield and protect me from a very scary world. You were trying to teach me the hard lessons you learned along the way, but I wasn't listening.
I think about what your home life must have been like; growing up with Grandma. May she rest in peace, and we loved her, but she was so miserable in life. I know when I used to visit her, I'd always leave feeling drained and moody. Grandma had that way of affecting the best of moods. She was as emotionally detached as anyone can get, which helps explain how that attribute was passed to you. I understand that now.
I don't want to concentrate on the negative though. I've gotten past all that long ago. What I want to do now is tell you what you meant to me and what you taught me, as your daughter, as a woman. You taught me that family always comes first, no matter what - loyalty to your spouse and your children. Blood runs far thicker than water, and no matter what trials and tribulations our family went through, we stuck together.
You taught me patriotism and love of country. What more can I say about that? The statement is obvious. You served your homeland, and had I been able to, I would have too. From this you also passed on to me your passion for aviation. I can't look at a jet without thinking of you.
You taught me that love not need be expressed through words. Although it is nice to hear "I love you", actions far exceed the spoken word. I saw it in your eyes at my wedding, and felt it when we had our father/daughter dance. In case you didn't know it, you really were, and still are, The Wind Beneath My Wings. I saw it in your eyes again when Brendan was born. The pride and love in your eyes filled my heart and soul. And always the way you would look at him, or Jake, or Megan with a quiet smile on your lips, and tears in your eyes. I don't know if anyone else noticed it, but I did.
Lastly, you taught me forgiveness. For all of my own mistakes, trials and tribulations, in the end, you forgave me. I will forever be grateful that in the last 10 years of your life, we became closer than we ever had before. You were angry with me at first, and rightfully so, but the few hearts to hearts we did have will forever be burned in my memory. I will never forget Dad. I will never forget that for all the years of pain, yours and mine, that through it all, you loved me no matter what. And whether you knew it or not, and I think you did, I never once stopped loving you. You were and still are my biggest hero. You passed on to me your humor, your love of life, and your strength. I cherish those attributes and thank you for giving them to me.
So, as Father's Day approaches and your one year anniversary, please know that you are missed terribly. My comfort, our comfort, though, is knowing you are still with us, watching and taking care of us. You may be gone physically but just like in life, you never left us. Loyalty and Love.
Love and miss you always,
Ali
Before I do though, I think it is important to note that what I am about to say should have been said to my Dad long ago. I never had the courage to tell him how I felt. I struggle with that in all of my relationships. I wish I had just sat down and had a long heart to heart with him about our relationship. We have had mini conversations about it, and particularly about my struggles with addiction, but what I always really wanted to truly tell him, I couldn't. I learned a huge lesson from this. As painful as it might have been to say what was in my heart, it would have been the right thing to do. Now he is gone and all I can do is write this letter. Never wait to tell someone how you feel, they may be gone tomorrow.
Dear Dad,
It is coming up on one year since you left us, and our first Father's Day without you. I wish I had had the courage to tell you all that I'm about to say while you were here. I'm sorry that I couldn't. I hope that when I was holding your hand and you drew your last breath, you felt and heard what I was saying to you in my heart. It silently spoke, "I love you, Dad, and I always have."
For many, many years, our relationship was rocky at best. I thought you hated me, honestly. I resented you for your brutal honesty, your distance from me, your lack of emotional attachment, and never hugging me or telling me you loved me. It ate at me for so long. But as I look back, I think I know why you were so hard on me. It really WAS because you loved me. You wanted better for me and whether I believed it at the time or not, I am more like you than I ever used to care to admit. You saw yourself in me, and tried to shield and protect me from a very scary world. You were trying to teach me the hard lessons you learned along the way, but I wasn't listening.
I think about what your home life must have been like; growing up with Grandma. May she rest in peace, and we loved her, but she was so miserable in life. I know when I used to visit her, I'd always leave feeling drained and moody. Grandma had that way of affecting the best of moods. She was as emotionally detached as anyone can get, which helps explain how that attribute was passed to you. I understand that now.
I don't want to concentrate on the negative though. I've gotten past all that long ago. What I want to do now is tell you what you meant to me and what you taught me, as your daughter, as a woman. You taught me that family always comes first, no matter what - loyalty to your spouse and your children. Blood runs far thicker than water, and no matter what trials and tribulations our family went through, we stuck together.
You taught me patriotism and love of country. What more can I say about that? The statement is obvious. You served your homeland, and had I been able to, I would have too. From this you also passed on to me your passion for aviation. I can't look at a jet without thinking of you.
You taught me that love not need be expressed through words. Although it is nice to hear "I love you", actions far exceed the spoken word. I saw it in your eyes at my wedding, and felt it when we had our father/daughter dance. In case you didn't know it, you really were, and still are, The Wind Beneath My Wings. I saw it in your eyes again when Brendan was born. The pride and love in your eyes filled my heart and soul. And always the way you would look at him, or Jake, or Megan with a quiet smile on your lips, and tears in your eyes. I don't know if anyone else noticed it, but I did.
Lastly, you taught me forgiveness. For all of my own mistakes, trials and tribulations, in the end, you forgave me. I will forever be grateful that in the last 10 years of your life, we became closer than we ever had before. You were angry with me at first, and rightfully so, but the few hearts to hearts we did have will forever be burned in my memory. I will never forget Dad. I will never forget that for all the years of pain, yours and mine, that through it all, you loved me no matter what. And whether you knew it or not, and I think you did, I never once stopped loving you. You were and still are my biggest hero. You passed on to me your humor, your love of life, and your strength. I cherish those attributes and thank you for giving them to me.
So, as Father's Day approaches and your one year anniversary, please know that you are missed terribly. My comfort, our comfort, though, is knowing you are still with us, watching and taking care of us. You may be gone physically but just like in life, you never left us. Loyalty and Love.
Love and miss you always,
Ali
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Random Incursions Part III
I despise it when people wear pajamas in public. Like the girl I saw in court last month wearing jammie pants. Way to impress the judge.
Addiction is not a choice, but recovery is. I believe that. And recovery isn't just about quitting whatever it is you're addicted to, it's about change...in everything. This includes behaviors. I finally realized that it is other things that I do that can not only cause me to use, but do not make me a good person. The first steps to change, for me, are about making the right choices. The kind where I can lay my head down at night knowing that I did the right things, for the right reasons.
I've been asked why I go so far out of town for meetings. Well, for one, I'd rather go farther away a couple of times a week to go to a meeting that I KNOW I will get something out of and feel good. I find it much more beneficial than going to a shitty meeting every single night. The ones I go to aren't fashion shows, or about who is screwing who, or long, drawn out bitch fests. I don't go to meetings to hear about other people's problems, I go to hear about how they got THROUGH them.
I'm a geek, and not ashamed to say it.
There are many moments when my affection for animals is much deeper than my affection for human beings.
A few months back, I was told that I have anger issues. I guess that would explain the whole wanting to beat the living shit out of someone/something at times.
The only time I ever feel true peace and relaxation is at the ocean.
I have never been in a physical fight in my entire life. I'm a lover not a fighter. However, I'd make an exception if anyone ever laid a finger on my son or harmed one hair on his head.
My biggest character flaw is procrastination. I have to work to change that. I'll start tomorrow.
I had a 4.0 grade average while attending school for Computer Tech. I screwed that up by relapsing and never finished. Epic fail.
I absolutely adore Christian Bale. Yes, hubby knows. Yes, he rolls his eyes. And yes, he even puts up with it.
I was voted "Miss Jewelry" in second grade. And it's probably the only thing girly about me.
When having to give random urine tests, I secretly wish I was a guy, just for that moment.
Hubby and I amuse ourselves by having conversations consisting of movie quotes.
I try to see the lesson in everything.
I almost went into the Air Force. It was a dream of mine to become a fighter pilot. A bad set of eyes nipped that in the bud. I'd still give my right arm to fly in a jet just once.
My father and I both broke our backs. And both around the same age. Chip off the ol block I guess.
My grandfather taught me how to ride waves at the beach. My beloved neat-freak step-grandmother taught me how to do hospital corners on bed sheets. I make a bed so neat and tight that a dollar bill would bounce off of it.
I have mild OCD. I'm what you call a "checker". When I lock my car, I have to hit the lock button at least three times. When I set my alarm, I have to check the wake up time a few times before I crawl into bed.
My biggest pet peeve is bad spelling and bad grammar. And if you see a mistake in anything of mine, it's a typo!! And it's common knowledge that if you misspell something or mispronounce it, I WILL correct you. You can't learn if you don't know!
And, in conclusion, I guess, because I could go on and on (I'm long-winded like that), my biggest fear at the moment is loss, in any form. I don't think I could take much more. My biggest hope for the future is being able to be the best possible person that I can. There are no limitations. The trick is in knowing that there never were.
Addiction is not a choice, but recovery is. I believe that. And recovery isn't just about quitting whatever it is you're addicted to, it's about change...in everything. This includes behaviors. I finally realized that it is other things that I do that can not only cause me to use, but do not make me a good person. The first steps to change, for me, are about making the right choices. The kind where I can lay my head down at night knowing that I did the right things, for the right reasons.
I've been asked why I go so far out of town for meetings. Well, for one, I'd rather go farther away a couple of times a week to go to a meeting that I KNOW I will get something out of and feel good. I find it much more beneficial than going to a shitty meeting every single night. The ones I go to aren't fashion shows, or about who is screwing who, or long, drawn out bitch fests. I don't go to meetings to hear about other people's problems, I go to hear about how they got THROUGH them.
I'm a geek, and not ashamed to say it.
There are many moments when my affection for animals is much deeper than my affection for human beings.
A few months back, I was told that I have anger issues. I guess that would explain the whole wanting to beat the living shit out of someone/something at times.
The only time I ever feel true peace and relaxation is at the ocean.
I have never been in a physical fight in my entire life. I'm a lover not a fighter. However, I'd make an exception if anyone ever laid a finger on my son or harmed one hair on his head.
My biggest character flaw is procrastination. I have to work to change that. I'll start tomorrow.
I had a 4.0 grade average while attending school for Computer Tech. I screwed that up by relapsing and never finished. Epic fail.
I absolutely adore Christian Bale. Yes, hubby knows. Yes, he rolls his eyes. And yes, he even puts up with it.
I was voted "Miss Jewelry" in second grade. And it's probably the only thing girly about me.
When having to give random urine tests, I secretly wish I was a guy, just for that moment.
Hubby and I amuse ourselves by having conversations consisting of movie quotes.
I try to see the lesson in everything.
I almost went into the Air Force. It was a dream of mine to become a fighter pilot. A bad set of eyes nipped that in the bud. I'd still give my right arm to fly in a jet just once.
My father and I both broke our backs. And both around the same age. Chip off the ol block I guess.
My grandfather taught me how to ride waves at the beach. My beloved neat-freak step-grandmother taught me how to do hospital corners on bed sheets. I make a bed so neat and tight that a dollar bill would bounce off of it.
I have mild OCD. I'm what you call a "checker". When I lock my car, I have to hit the lock button at least three times. When I set my alarm, I have to check the wake up time a few times before I crawl into bed.
My biggest pet peeve is bad spelling and bad grammar. And if you see a mistake in anything of mine, it's a typo!! And it's common knowledge that if you misspell something or mispronounce it, I WILL correct you. You can't learn if you don't know!
And, in conclusion, I guess, because I could go on and on (I'm long-winded like that), my biggest fear at the moment is loss, in any form. I don't think I could take much more. My biggest hope for the future is being able to be the best possible person that I can. There are no limitations. The trick is in knowing that there never were.
Random Incursions Part II
Humans only use 10% of their brain (some, much less). I believe that if we were able to tap into that other 90%, things would get ugly, fast.
I don't believe in the biblical Armageddon, Rapture, Judgement Day, or whatever other phrase you want to slap on it. However, I DO believe that humans are destroying this planet. And either one day, we will destroy ourselves, or the Earth will fire back with all her fury and vengeance. I kind of think she's doing that already. I believe the strange weather, the increase in tornadoes, hurricanes and other such events are the Earth's way of saying, "If you don't change the way you live, you are SO fucked." And yes I did call her "she" - only a true bitch could unleash wrath like that.
I will never in my life be able to own or operate a firearm or vote. I'm more disappointed about the firearm deal. Even if I could vote, I wouldn't. I have never believed that mine or anyone else's vote has ever counted. I believe that positions of power are bought and paid for, period. Unfortunately, in this world, money talks, and ethics don't count for shit.
I wonder why the people I love have to suffer, despite their goodness and dedication to others. Why, when I was a total piece of shit, hurting myself and others, do I not suffer for my "sins"? I do, with guilt, but how am I in near perfect health, and others are not when they DON'T deserve it?
Everyone is addicted to SOMETHING. Some are just lesser of all the evils.
What I loved about my father the most and what I love about my sister: their honesty. Brutal at times, yes, but you would never hear a dishonest word out of my father's mouth, nor my sister's. I've always secretly wished I could be as bold and honest. I'm working on that.
What I love most about my mother: her undeniable compassion and unconditional love.
What I love most about my small circle of friends: they accept me as I am and I accept them as they are. There's no judgement, no backstabbing, no catty bullshit...only love, understanding, trust, forgiveness and compassion for each other. True friendship is one of the things I cherish the most in this life, where trusting others is usually and often difficult.
I have witnessed two deaths in my life. It is devastating and, put simply, it sucks.
I have witnessed two deaths of pets. It sucks just as bad.
I love people watching. Humans fascinate me. Often my husband has asked me why I stare at people, but it's not because I am doing it in contempt, but rather a quiet awe.
I've been asked why I am so into vampires, my own son accuses me of being obsessed. The main reason is I grew up watching the Christopher Lee "Dracula" flicks, and numerous other low budget vampire films. What can I say, it just happens to be my favorite horror genre. Over time, I also think it's because, even though they are fictional, I can identify with them, in the sense of addiction. They need to feed on blood to live, to survive, and as much as they may hate to hurt people to do it, it's the obsession and the "addiction" that drives them. They are stuck in a vicious cycle much like addicts. There are so many parallels if you just think about it.
I trust only 4 women: my mother, my sister, and two very close friends.
I trust only 2 men: my husband and my best friend.
Music is a huge part of my life. There is probably a song for every moment in my life, good times and bad. I don't know what I would do without it. I've always secretly wished I could play an instrument.
As I approach 40, it's hard not to think of my life as being "half over". But when the thought comes, I tell myself that the chance to make the second half of my life into something really great is too promising to ignore.
I don't believe in the biblical Armageddon, Rapture, Judgement Day, or whatever other phrase you want to slap on it. However, I DO believe that humans are destroying this planet. And either one day, we will destroy ourselves, or the Earth will fire back with all her fury and vengeance. I kind of think she's doing that already. I believe the strange weather, the increase in tornadoes, hurricanes and other such events are the Earth's way of saying, "If you don't change the way you live, you are SO fucked." And yes I did call her "she" - only a true bitch could unleash wrath like that.
I will never in my life be able to own or operate a firearm or vote. I'm more disappointed about the firearm deal. Even if I could vote, I wouldn't. I have never believed that mine or anyone else's vote has ever counted. I believe that positions of power are bought and paid for, period. Unfortunately, in this world, money talks, and ethics don't count for shit.
I wonder why the people I love have to suffer, despite their goodness and dedication to others. Why, when I was a total piece of shit, hurting myself and others, do I not suffer for my "sins"? I do, with guilt, but how am I in near perfect health, and others are not when they DON'T deserve it?
Everyone is addicted to SOMETHING. Some are just lesser of all the evils.
What I loved about my father the most and what I love about my sister: their honesty. Brutal at times, yes, but you would never hear a dishonest word out of my father's mouth, nor my sister's. I've always secretly wished I could be as bold and honest. I'm working on that.
What I love most about my mother: her undeniable compassion and unconditional love.
What I love most about my small circle of friends: they accept me as I am and I accept them as they are. There's no judgement, no backstabbing, no catty bullshit...only love, understanding, trust, forgiveness and compassion for each other. True friendship is one of the things I cherish the most in this life, where trusting others is usually and often difficult.
I have witnessed two deaths in my life. It is devastating and, put simply, it sucks.
I have witnessed two deaths of pets. It sucks just as bad.
I love people watching. Humans fascinate me. Often my husband has asked me why I stare at people, but it's not because I am doing it in contempt, but rather a quiet awe.
I've been asked why I am so into vampires, my own son accuses me of being obsessed. The main reason is I grew up watching the Christopher Lee "Dracula" flicks, and numerous other low budget vampire films. What can I say, it just happens to be my favorite horror genre. Over time, I also think it's because, even though they are fictional, I can identify with them, in the sense of addiction. They need to feed on blood to live, to survive, and as much as they may hate to hurt people to do it, it's the obsession and the "addiction" that drives them. They are stuck in a vicious cycle much like addicts. There are so many parallels if you just think about it.
I trust only 4 women: my mother, my sister, and two very close friends.
I trust only 2 men: my husband and my best friend.
Music is a huge part of my life. There is probably a song for every moment in my life, good times and bad. I don't know what I would do without it. I've always secretly wished I could play an instrument.
As I approach 40, it's hard not to think of my life as being "half over". But when the thought comes, I tell myself that the chance to make the second half of my life into something really great is too promising to ignore.
Random Incursions
Life is a blank sheet of paper, and I am the script that lay upon it.
Sometimes I literally feel like beating the living shit out of something or someone. Thinking of taking up boxing.
I am not afraid to die. I am only afraid of HOW I'm going to die. Hopefully not some flesh-eating disease, or zombies.
When I was very young, around the ages of 8-10, I had horrifying nightmares of demons, Satan, and Hell. A huge shout out to the Catholic School I attended for keeping me awake at night, for a very long time.
I am starting to believe that for every closed door, another one opens.
I was so traumatized by a childhood dentist, I still have nightmares till this day. I'm hoping that when the bastard dies, there's a special Hell where little kids get to torture him by drilling and yanking his teeth without novacaine.
Although I believe in psychic ability, I am apprehensive to believe most who claim it. However, a psychic I went to back in 1993, predicted exactly who I would marry. She told me a great number of other things, as well as describing my past, and thoughts I never spoke out loud...but she KNEW.
I have this overwhelming sense that I have something important to do in this life. I don't know what it is yet, but I'm patiently waiting to find out.
The only time I've actually prayed in the last 25 years is during my addiction. Either praying for death because I couldn't take the sickness, or praying for a fix and then an empty promise to quit the next day.
There's only 4 people in this entire world that I will ever actually care about what they think of me: my mother, my sister, my husband, and my son.
If I pay attention and focus, I can literally hear and feel energy changes.
My gut instincts have never failed me. Often, they have kept me from dangerous situations. I was invited to a party once, but didn't go, I had that *feeling*. I went to another party going on that same day. The next day I found out there was a shooting at the other party; one dead, one disfigured for life.
When I broke my back, I lost all bathroom functions for about 6 months. They came back but not the same. However, my menstrual cycle didn't miss a fucking beat. Epic FUCK MY LIFE.
Humor is how I deal with life. I sometimes laugh about things that I probably shouldn't, but it is how I cope. I also laugh about people, cruel as that sounds. But I am not prejudiced, I make fun of everyone equally.
I admire people who aren't afraid to say, "This is who I am!", even if it is seen as "different" or "strange". Those are the people who are REAL, who aren't afraid to be who they are, and they are usually honest people.
....more to come....
Sometimes I literally feel like beating the living shit out of something or someone. Thinking of taking up boxing.
I am not afraid to die. I am only afraid of HOW I'm going to die. Hopefully not some flesh-eating disease, or zombies.
When I was very young, around the ages of 8-10, I had horrifying nightmares of demons, Satan, and Hell. A huge shout out to the Catholic School I attended for keeping me awake at night, for a very long time.
I am starting to believe that for every closed door, another one opens.
I was so traumatized by a childhood dentist, I still have nightmares till this day. I'm hoping that when the bastard dies, there's a special Hell where little kids get to torture him by drilling and yanking his teeth without novacaine.
Although I believe in psychic ability, I am apprehensive to believe most who claim it. However, a psychic I went to back in 1993, predicted exactly who I would marry. She told me a great number of other things, as well as describing my past, and thoughts I never spoke out loud...but she KNEW.
I have this overwhelming sense that I have something important to do in this life. I don't know what it is yet, but I'm patiently waiting to find out.
The only time I've actually prayed in the last 25 years is during my addiction. Either praying for death because I couldn't take the sickness, or praying for a fix and then an empty promise to quit the next day.
There's only 4 people in this entire world that I will ever actually care about what they think of me: my mother, my sister, my husband, and my son.
If I pay attention and focus, I can literally hear and feel energy changes.
My gut instincts have never failed me. Often, they have kept me from dangerous situations. I was invited to a party once, but didn't go, I had that *feeling*. I went to another party going on that same day. The next day I found out there was a shooting at the other party; one dead, one disfigured for life.
When I broke my back, I lost all bathroom functions for about 6 months. They came back but not the same. However, my menstrual cycle didn't miss a fucking beat. Epic FUCK MY LIFE.
Humor is how I deal with life. I sometimes laugh about things that I probably shouldn't, but it is how I cope. I also laugh about people, cruel as that sounds. But I am not prejudiced, I make fun of everyone equally.
I admire people who aren't afraid to say, "This is who I am!", even if it is seen as "different" or "strange". Those are the people who are REAL, who aren't afraid to be who they are, and they are usually honest people.
....more to come....
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Emotions In Motion
6:30 am. As much as I abhor getting up early (I was actually up at 5 am), it is within these quiet moments, when everyone else is tucked away in bed silently dreaming, that I find myself. Unfortunately, I have this ability to shut off my feelings like a light switch. I used to think of it as a gift. Don't want to feel this? BAM! SHUT IT OFF. It really is a curse though; we are supposed to feel. After all, isn't that what being human is all about? Our emotions define not only us as individuals, but as a species. We are a unique army of ants in the sand hill that is our universe. However reversing my automatic shutdown switch is difficult at times, but I'm learning.
I've always had an extremely hard time with negative emotions; anger, frustration, sadness, disappointment. As a child, I'd escape within myself, to the farthest reaches of my imagination, being that "someone else" I wanted to be, instead of being me. In later years it was people-pleasing and chemicals. Anything I could do to take the focus off of who I was, was a relieving welcome. So, when my addictions surfaced at their very worst, that bomb of self-hatred exploded; the shrapnel piercing my skin like millions of tiny daggers, and I couldn't take it anymore.
I should probably explain what chemical addiction is like. In my case, it was heroin. It's like a long chain of dominoes - once you flick that first one, there's no stopping it until it reaches the end. And by end, that usually means one of three things: rehab, prison, or death. In the case of heroin, you are literally a rat on a wheel. The moment you wake up, the first thought is "How am I going to get my shit today?" Once that money is procured, the next thought is "Is my dealer awake yet?" Honestly, that's it. That's all you think about morning, noon and night. It is a vicious cycle of desperation and despair with only one goal: don't get dope sick - anything to avoid that.
Dope sickness: Your body's sick and twisted way of letting you know you are a hopeless slave. It is like having the flu but a hundred times worse. Sweating, chills, puking, shitting yourself, body aches that feel is if you're in rigor mortis, yawning, sneezing, chronic insomnia...and on and on. Countless times I would fantasize about sawing my own legs off to release myself from the pain, or pray (funny, the only time in eons I would ever pray) for death to come swiftly. It's not life threatening, but it is sheer agony. Ask any recovering heroin addict about detoxing and watch the corners of their mouths turn down in a grimace. Bottom line: it is Hell.
Desperation and Despair: When you know that this is not the person you really are, but still, you can't stop. You can't look at yourself in the mirror because deep down, all the pain and the things you've done, the lies you've told, and the people you've hurt will come staring back at you, through dark, soulless eyes. So to keep from driving yourself mad (and dope sickness being the other motivator), you press on and promise yourself you will quit tomorrow. But tomorrow always turns into next week, and next week turns into next month....
It is often these factors that finally bring you to your knees, broken and alone. Whoever hasn't left you has ceased to speak or associate with you. It is within these lonely hours that you can make even more bad choices. I've never attempted suicide in my life; which actually surprises me being that I loathed my own reflection all these years. But in the midst of my last relapse, hating myself and feeling like a complete nothing, I tried to take my own life. It was last year, I can't remember when, that one day I made the decision that everyone would be better off without me, and I could finally be free of this addiction. I mixed 30 bags of heroin into one shot and injected it, looking forward to finally ending the pain of living. It didn't work, obviously. My only thought? "Wow, I can't even do this right."
Of course, now with clarity, I am eternally thankful that I didn't succeed. How selfish of me to not even think of my family, my husband, and the most important of all, my son. I thought at the time that I would be doing my son a favor. Again, the addiction is extremely savage and is selfish in its own right. It doesn't care about you, or your loved ones, only about what IT wants. It would be happy to have victory over your meaningless existence. But IT didn't win - once again, I regained the upper hand.
So now, I allow myself to feel what I need to feel. That automatic switch is still there, but I try to be more aware of it's presence, and put mental duct tape on it so it can't be turned off. Again, it's not a simple task to reverse defense mechanisms. But I am trying...it's all I can do. I can't turn back the clock of my life, but I can reset its hands. Reversing low self-esteem, or lack thereof, is another heavy task, but I'm working on that too. Instead of avoiding the mirror, I can look into it now and say, "Hey, I kind of like you." And the reflection smiles back and winks.
~AJW 6/4/11~
I've always had an extremely hard time with negative emotions; anger, frustration, sadness, disappointment. As a child, I'd escape within myself, to the farthest reaches of my imagination, being that "someone else" I wanted to be, instead of being me. In later years it was people-pleasing and chemicals. Anything I could do to take the focus off of who I was, was a relieving welcome. So, when my addictions surfaced at their very worst, that bomb of self-hatred exploded; the shrapnel piercing my skin like millions of tiny daggers, and I couldn't take it anymore.
I should probably explain what chemical addiction is like. In my case, it was heroin. It's like a long chain of dominoes - once you flick that first one, there's no stopping it until it reaches the end. And by end, that usually means one of three things: rehab, prison, or death. In the case of heroin, you are literally a rat on a wheel. The moment you wake up, the first thought is "How am I going to get my shit today?" Once that money is procured, the next thought is "Is my dealer awake yet?" Honestly, that's it. That's all you think about morning, noon and night. It is a vicious cycle of desperation and despair with only one goal: don't get dope sick - anything to avoid that.
Dope sickness: Your body's sick and twisted way of letting you know you are a hopeless slave. It is like having the flu but a hundred times worse. Sweating, chills, puking, shitting yourself, body aches that feel is if you're in rigor mortis, yawning, sneezing, chronic insomnia...and on and on. Countless times I would fantasize about sawing my own legs off to release myself from the pain, or pray (funny, the only time in eons I would ever pray) for death to come swiftly. It's not life threatening, but it is sheer agony. Ask any recovering heroin addict about detoxing and watch the corners of their mouths turn down in a grimace. Bottom line: it is Hell.
Desperation and Despair: When you know that this is not the person you really are, but still, you can't stop. You can't look at yourself in the mirror because deep down, all the pain and the things you've done, the lies you've told, and the people you've hurt will come staring back at you, through dark, soulless eyes. So to keep from driving yourself mad (and dope sickness being the other motivator), you press on and promise yourself you will quit tomorrow. But tomorrow always turns into next week, and next week turns into next month....
It is often these factors that finally bring you to your knees, broken and alone. Whoever hasn't left you has ceased to speak or associate with you. It is within these lonely hours that you can make even more bad choices. I've never attempted suicide in my life; which actually surprises me being that I loathed my own reflection all these years. But in the midst of my last relapse, hating myself and feeling like a complete nothing, I tried to take my own life. It was last year, I can't remember when, that one day I made the decision that everyone would be better off without me, and I could finally be free of this addiction. I mixed 30 bags of heroin into one shot and injected it, looking forward to finally ending the pain of living. It didn't work, obviously. My only thought? "Wow, I can't even do this right."
Of course, now with clarity, I am eternally thankful that I didn't succeed. How selfish of me to not even think of my family, my husband, and the most important of all, my son. I thought at the time that I would be doing my son a favor. Again, the addiction is extremely savage and is selfish in its own right. It doesn't care about you, or your loved ones, only about what IT wants. It would be happy to have victory over your meaningless existence. But IT didn't win - once again, I regained the upper hand.
So now, I allow myself to feel what I need to feel. That automatic switch is still there, but I try to be more aware of it's presence, and put mental duct tape on it so it can't be turned off. Again, it's not a simple task to reverse defense mechanisms. But I am trying...it's all I can do. I can't turn back the clock of my life, but I can reset its hands. Reversing low self-esteem, or lack thereof, is another heavy task, but I'm working on that too. Instead of avoiding the mirror, I can look into it now and say, "Hey, I kind of like you." And the reflection smiles back and winks.
~AJW 6/4/11~
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