Johnny came to visit today. We tried to get him Friday night, but he was off with other relatives by the time we asked if we could take him for the weekend. So we got him today instead.

We were all pretty exhausted by the time we got home and got dinner ready and settled down for the evening. So everyone except me has finally gone off to bed. I am actually on my way there too in a few minutes. I already took my melatonin so I haven't much time before that kicks in and I am asleep.

Two more days until the full moon. I am watching a lone candle burn outside by the dying bon fire we burned tonight. Burning with intention. Every full moon I am like a kid in the candy store awaiting the fruition of all the new moon intentions.

Ok, I better to to bed now before I passout here in my chair.

Ciao.

Here I am coming up twice in the same reading. First as the King of Cups and second as the King of Swords. How could I change so dramatically from what I was like in the not so terribly distant past to where I am sitting today? Take 3 guesses amd the first two don't count.

King of Cups

Call him "The Godfather". A kinder, gentler, more loving man you'll never meet. His "kingdom" is his family, and his one dream is to be sitting at the head of a huge table filled with kin, kids, grand kids, serving up food to them all. His family comes first; for them he'll work, sacrifice, do just about anything; and, yes, like the "Godfather" he will consider doing terrible things to you if you cause grief to any member of that family.

More likely to be a chef, bookstore owner, museum curator, decorator or restorer than a Godfather, this King is a historian, an old fashioned man with quaint, old fashioned ideas. He'll motivate the neighborhood to restore old buildings, to be more friendly, neighborly and polite. Very like the Queen of Cups, however, he's too soft and sentimental. No matter how prodigal the son, this father will always bail the kid out. About his family, it is almost impossible to make him see reason.

 

King of Swords

Call him "The Judge". His kingdom is the kingdom of high ideals. Loving, friendly, but distant, the one thing everyone says about this man is "He's Fair." Likely a lawyer, judge, musician, politician or designer, he is a patient, careful man, with very high ideals. Here is a man of eloquence, so good with words and debate that he can easily see the other side of every argument. This does not keep him from his own strong beliefs, beliefs which he expects his family and friends to adhere to. Not that he isn't a good father; he can be kind, playful, a loving and faithful husband. He treats his wife and kids fairly, hearing them out, acknowledging when they are right. But if he is against child labor, and won't wear certain shoes to protest it, no one in his family can wear those shoes either. And he'll be bitterly disappointed in them if they do. Unlike the King of Cups, this King does not put "Family first, right or wrong." Ideals come first, and he can be unforgiving of the family member who is weak or more "human" than he. He is willing to go on hunger strikes, fight or die for these high minded ideals. He will not budge when it comes to upholding them, not even for his nearest and dearest.

 

Interesting that I would have said 5 months ago that I was the King of Cups only. Now I do not feel like the King of Cups any longer. For the last 3 months or so I have felt like the King of Swords.

So do you want to know how strongly I feel about my family doing things I find reprehensible? Strong enough to turn their asses over to the karma police and let them be judged accordingly for their actions, that's for sure. Strong enough that I am willing to let them go out of my life forever.

You do not want to know what the end result card was for this reading. At least not if you are the two members of my exiled family anyway. I'll put it this way. It will/is making me very happy. The reason I like my readings is, I am so very seldom wrong.

 

Doesn't Hoebicht sound like a great last name for a charactor in a story? I like it, I am gonna use it. It could be German or Eubonics, it's the reader's choice of interpretation. I love it!

 

Clamity Hoebicht stepped gingerly across the broken glass on the kitchen floor. Suddenly a voice of authority shot out from the living room "You, Hoebicht, watch where you are walking, that's a crime scene your coming through!"

See? It so works. <grin>  

I did a tarot reading on the outcome of 2 separate yet connect relationships in the last day or so. I almost always do simple 3 card spreads, past, present and future outcome cards. The first reading I asked for the outcome of the first relationship (the wholistic relationship, friendship and love relationship) at it's end and the timing on that ending. The second reading I asked if the friendship could ever be reconciled, and if it was to be reconciled, the timing on it.

The first card in the first reading was the Tower, that made the ending of the relationship a past tense event. The Devil and Death had come up in the two prior readings on this relationship in the present and future, so the Tower showing up in the past position wasn't really all that shocking. It simply means that the relationship is over and that they are now stuck living with each other because one of them no longer has a working vehicle and the other one has no home.

The second card, the present position was Justice.  Balance, adjustments in relationships, unfairness, lies and betrays being exposed and judged, fairness. Might not be the ending you want, but it will be Just nonetheless. It also indicates the refusal of one or both persons in a relationship to give in to the other or to help correct the problem in the relationship. In a friendship it can indicate that if there is a dispute between the friends, that only one of them is going to have the gonads to come forward to make things right in the friendship.

The last card, the future outcome card was the Two of Swords. Again, blindfolded justice, holding out 2 equally balanced swords. Whatever comes will not last, but it will appease the situation for the moment.

So I thought about these three cards and the people for whom they were drawn. The present and future cards seemed out of place considering that the Tower means that the relationship as they know it is permanently over. The last two cards are not exactly about reconciliation, but they are about balance, justice in an unfair situation and blind, balanced fairness. So I asked my guides if the Tower meant that the relationship was already over between them and it answered in the affirmative. The relationship, whether they know it or not is over.

I am thinking that the Justice card means that they are at this time being judged for the relationship and their part in it. So whatever the accessment of the relationship, it will be honestly and fairly just. This relationship has never been about fairness or balance. It has, since the very beginning (go back to around June or July of 06)  been about the selfish, wanton, physical desires of both parties involved. It has never been about love no matter what they wanted to believe. Which is actually why this relationship is over whether they still live in the same house or not. At this point, living in that house together is pure need on both their parts. And until they can get out of the place where they need to use each other, they are going to be miserably unhappy.

So I am guessing that at this point the universe is judging them as fairly as it can for their actions (past and present) and they will and are reaping the just rewards of their actions with each other. Based on the future card, I am guessing that they are not going to like that accessment or final judgement.

Now the second reading never really happened. That is due in part to the fact that as I shuffled the cards the Justice card fell out of the deck. Generally speaking, if a card falls out of the deck when you are reading, then that means that that card is most probably the card you needed to recieve in your reading.

Fair and balanced justice. Neither party may be happy with the outcome, but nonetheless it will be fair and just and probably just what each party involved needed to help with their growth as a person. Also, in a friendship, one of the two will have to be the one to come forward to reconcile the relationship if there is a rift. The other party will not have the ability, maturity or gonads to do so.

So I have been sitting here contemplating all of this for the last hour or two. I realised something about me a little bit ago. I am still too wounded from the intensity and depth of the betrayals to have a conversation with my former lover. So a reconciliation is not near at hand.  She knows what she has done and she knows how deeply she has wounded me. I am letting sleeping dogs lie until I am healed more.

Why do I not heal quickly from all she did to me? Because I have to see her face and the face of my other backstabbing betraying ex-friend far too often. If I didn't have to see them live, upclose and in person on a regular basis, I might heal faster. I notice on those weeks where I seldom see either one of them that I feel much more centered and stronger, like I am healing from the wounds. On weeks where I have to be around her and the slut she's been fucking more than occassionally, it wears me down emotionally and I feel like I have taken two steps backward.

It doesn't really help to know that their relationship is over. What would help is at least having that former lover of mine apologise for the lies she told about me and clearing my name. Her slut can apologise all she wants to me, but I honestly do not want someone like that around in my world in any way shape or form. I don't trust her or her energy. She is one sick fuck whore and I do not want her or her behavior near my life.

Former lover on the other hand, well, she is a sick fuck too, but her undoing what she did by unlying the lies she told about me to other people will at least make her tolerable in my world. I still don't want her in my life, but I will at least be friendly with her if she does undo all she did to me wih the people she lied to about me.

I have a new grandson as of the 14th. Benjamin Matthew. Sweet, got pics last night. They are up there if you didn't notice.  

Did I tell you the doctor put me on this estrogen/testosterone shit that I started taking Tuesday morning? I don't remember, but I am pretty sure I didn't. I don't like it, I can tell you that much. I feel like pure shit and it fucks with my blood sugar really bad. I need to call my doctor again and tell her I am not feel so hot. She may up my Metaforin, who knows.

Anyway, I need to note here that the slut is looking like pure shit. Geezus, less than 2 whole months in the lying whore's  house and she is looking like living hell. What the hell is she doing to her? Ha! Like I actually give a rat's ass.

So I just want to know why the slut thinks she has some right to talk to me. I don't want to talk with her. All I want is for her to move far far away from here forever and never come back so that I never have to look at her ugly face again. The fact of the matter is, I don't even give a rat's ass what she does, just stay out of my life and my world. I do not suffer back stabbing, betraying bitches in my life. My preference is that she did not exist at all. She has no way to make up for what she did to me. She did what she did on absolute, premeditated purpose. So in my opinion, she is an even worse excuse for a human being than the lying whore is.

Yeah, so fuck you slut. Everybody thinks you and your girlfriend are sluts and whores. So eat shit.

I think these drugs are really fucking with me. I am pretty sure I do not like them. The worst side effect of them is that they are suppose to make you sexual again. I do not want that, I am so used to not being ruled by the need for sex that it has been like a God send to not have hormones. I don't want to have hormones or sexual feelings or a period for no reason whatsoever..... NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Ok, I am off to work.

I was right, Carr Lane is in Stone County and it's about 25 miles from Eureka, 35 from my house though. I have been through Carr Lane more times than I can actually remember in the last 2 days. Four times (I sincerely had to think there), two full trips up Hwy 86 in the last two days.

The first trip was of course the doctor visit. The second trip was much further. Over 110 miles one way from my front door to the cemetary and back. That was of course (if you are paying attention) a funeral. The funeral was in Fordland, a town I had never heard of. It's about 15 or 20 miles on the east side of Springfield off of Hwy 60. That was a long ass drive.

It was a baby, an infant, one that never got the chance to get born but was close enough that had she not died in the womb, she would have lived, although been slightly premature. Steffie is young, only 19, so this is especially hard on her. Not that being older makes losing a child any easier, it's just you have less life experience when you are 19 with bad things happening. Not that Steffie doesn't have her share of bad shit in her young years, she does, it's just that the longer you live, the more time you have to reflect on shit that happens to you. As the years go by, you grow in how you perceive nad react to things. Of course, I don't think that death of a child is ever something you will react to much differently than with intense grief, period.

Anyway, my heart goes out to her. Steffie named her Emilee Lynn. Emilee after her best friend Emily who was killed 2 years ago in a car accident. Emilee was buried next to Emily, Emily's parents having given the plot to Steffie and Jeremy for Emilee. I do want you to know that Jeremy was also devistated by the loss of his daughter too. I felt deeply for them both.

I was thinking to myself while I was there at the funeral that I have had too much death in my life. Amazingly I haven't lost anything considered major. Well, Debbie was major, but I lost her to the disease long before the disease actually did something that killed her. Ok, I will buy that that was a major loss. But I never got to go to the funeral, so I have had to grieve in private all these years. And yes, I still grieve after all these years. I guess when I say "major", I haven't lost anything more than my grand parents and a sister.  My sister doesn't count as major because I was 10 years old and I also didn't get to go to that funeral either.  I have spent the last 42 years living her life for her. Her oldest kid is a freshman in high school now btw. And she's still married to that great guy who is a lawyer just like she is....

Most of my "death" has been friends. And lots of them. I went to most of these funerals. There were two I missed because I had moved here and had no way to get home for the funerals. That was Chris Ross and Tom Bodet. Chris died about a month after I moved here. Tom about a year.

Anyway, I meant to buy some facial tissue Monday when I was buying food and other stuff for the Deschner household. I kept looking at the Kleenex but for some reason (maybe because I was talking with Ron) I just never picked it up and put it in the cart. I managed to get paper towels and toilet paper in there, but no Kleenex. You know that just because the funeral is over that the crying has not stopped in that house. So now they will use the toilet paper instead. That's not nearly as good as Kleenex. Oh well, I screwed up.

Now I have to go buy Ms Linda a birthday present. We got Sensie this hand carved teak wood dragon from Romancing the Stone that he wanted. I got it for $1000 less than it was listed at. I got it down from $1200, to $750, to "this one is broken and I can sell it to you for $350", to "I will give you $200 for it". So for $200 bucks (plus tax) and Curtis staying up all night Monday night to sand down the broken parts and restain the whole thing (twice), we (Ms. Linda, me and Sue, Curtis and Misty, Sandy, Harrol and Patrick and Jody and Annie) got Sensie a really cool present.

Now I have to find some bling bling for Ms. Linda. Luckily we live in a tourist town which is chalk full of gift shops brimming with bling bling. This will just be from me and Sue unless Curtis and Misty was to be part fo this one too. I am not spending a fortune on this. The $72 bucks I spent on Sensie was enough. Linda will be lucky if I spend $25.

Ok, I am off to work and shop and then a private lesson and then maybe sign off on some stuff.

 

Wish Sue, K and I luck tomorrow. We are off to Oklahoma for tournament. Sue is worried I will win against her like I did last time. I sincerely doubt I will win against her this time. She has gotten considerably better since that tournament and, I don't care if I take a first this time. I just want all of us Groves Karate Studio folk to do well and make our dojo proud!

 

Ok, I know you all remember the seething post (since I think it was actually the last one). Do you want to know what causes me to seethe? Some of you do, some of you don't. If you are one of the "don't club" please fast forward to tomorrow's post.

I'll tell you a story that happened to me in my youth, this will give you an idea what causes me to seethe. When I was 9 and in 4th grade, I was in Girl Scouts. Not particularly because I wanted to be in Girl Scouts, but because everyone else was in Girl Scouts and so I had to be part of the group to be accepted. Being accepted by others really matter a lot to me when I was a kid, and frankly, it has most of my life.

There was this kid named Sandra Somethingorother that none of the kids liked and no one ever played with if at all possible. She was morbidly obese, a klutz, not particularly attractive and had a creepy personality to boot. To put it bluntly, she had no friends. I wasn't exactly Ms. Congeniality either, but I had some friends, was not fat, was extremely athletic and had some semblance of attractiveness going on there.

For some reason I attracted the "not so lovable/likable kids" when I was a kid. All the cast offs gravitated toward me even though I did not particularly want them doing that. The Rebecca Randrup story is a prime example of a social cast off latching on to me. Alex Pilobosian and Gregory Assadorian come to mind too (yes they were both Armenian).

I am not sure if Sandra had some fantasy in her head about being my friend or what exactly was going on, but she had been approaching me for several days (maybe even a week or two) during recess and lunch and attempting to hang with me. At first I was kind of oblivious to the fact that she was trying to hang with me because I thought she was just hanging on the peripheral edge of the group. The reality is, I never caught on to what exactly was going on with Sandra because I never paid a moment of any kind of attention to her. That was how little I paid attention to Sandra or even knew she was in or around a group activity I happened to be hanging around in at the moment.

So one day, there we all are in the MPR at school doing some dumb ass thing for Girl Scouts when one of the teachers (not mine), called me over to her and sat me down. She proceeded to ask me if I was angry for some reason with Sandra Somethingorother. I had to ask her to tell me who Sandra Somethingorother was because I honestly did not know who she was talking about. When she pointed her out across the room, I was like "Her? No, I don't even know her." The teacher then got this funny and confused look on her face and then said "Did you hit her in the stomach just a little bit ago?"  That was when I got the funny and confused look on my face. Of course I said "No."

She then proceeded to go off on me about why hitting other children wasn't ok. I just sat there stunned, looking between her and Sandra as if they all possessed 3 heads each. Every time Sandra looked over at me getting a new asshole chewed by this teacher, she looked down at the floor and acted all guilty. Every time the teacher would ask me a question like "Why do you think it is ok to hit other children?"  I would attempt to say "but I didn't hit her, I don't even know her, let alone play with her", and with that barely out of my mouth, she would continue to go off on me some more about physically assaulting other children.

Finally, for a split second, I got through to this woman.  I think she finally heard me saying I hadn't done what I was being accused of doing. She stopped, told me to wait there and went across the room to talk with Sandra. I of course could see them talking but the only reason I knew they were talking about Sandra being hit in the stomach was because Sandra grabbed her stomach and began to pretend that it hurt. Sandra also couldn't look over at me cause every time she attempted to look my way, I was staring right at her. That of course made her have to look down in shame and guilt because she surely could not look me in the eye.

Finally the teacher came back over and went off on me some more, she then brought another teacher over and they talked about calling my mother (I was cool with that, I knew my mom would believe me because she knew me better than they did... I have to admit that my mother was loyal about things like this, she would believe you if you told her you didn't do something when you hadn't done it, amazingly she somehow knew when you were lying too and then you got it for not only doing the dastardly deed, you got it for lying about it too).

All this time I was adamantly denying ever being any closer than walking past Sandra in the hall all day long let alone punching her. They are beginning to think I have maybe blocked out my evil deed. They are making me begin to question whether I did it or not. Here I am, 9 years old, they are making me began to think that maybe I am hitting other children in some kind of daze as I walk down the halls of Easterby Elementary.

That summer before 4th grade, I had had a pretty serious head injury. My brother had slammed a sledge hammer into the top of my head and crushed my skull. It required several stitches and I still have a scar and a deep indentation there on the crown of my head to this day. I was never knocked out from it, but I was stunned and I had a concussion from the event. In school, it caused me to have some learning disabilities, but it never took my memory away. If anything, I had a memory that was sharp and intensely clear.

I think these teachers were trying to blame my behavior on the injury. This injury was pretty apparent because the top of my head was shaved and I looked kind of weird. They were beginning to make me feel like a freak. Mind you that neither one of these teachers were my teacher and neither of them knew me from Adam.

In this whole sorted incident, as the whole thing progressed, as it began to dawn on me that I was in trouble (serious trouble btw) for something I hadn't done, I began to seethe inside. The more I tried to say I hadn't done it, the more they accused me of hitting Sandra.  The funny part was, normally I would have been so frustrated at that point that I would have been crying. I wasn't crying and the reason I wasn't crying was because I knew that I had to stay level headed because that shit headed little fuck who had just blown whatever chances she may have ever had at being my friend wasn't going to stop lying about me at this point. It had blown so far out of proportion at this point that she couldn't back down and say she was lying without looking like a total psycho freak to the teachers.

So I was screwed and I knew it. The teachers were thinking it was me who was being the psycho freak and I knew that too. And I had no way to prove my innocence either. It was her word against mine. My anger at her was growing by leaps and bounds at this point and I surely at that point wished I could hit her in the stomach. I was seething to say the least.

I am not sure where my troop leader was all this time I was being interrogated by these two teachers, but somehow, miraculously she showed up while they were trying to decide how I should be punished for this thing I did not do. She was attempting to save me from them and promised to have a talk with my mom and me about the whole thing. They told her they had already called my mom and she was on her way there now.

This was only getting worse for me. At this point I decided these teachers were reactionary assholes, although I have to say that I would not have used the term reactionary asshole at the age of nine. I would have thought they were going way over board and were being mean to me without having really researched this whole thing deeper. Like neither one of them asked the bitch if she had any witnesses to my supposed attack on her bulbulous ass.

At this point, the teachers were trying to decide if I was going to be suspended from school or have to do detention or whatever and my troop leader is assuring them that I am a little different/odd, that's true, but that I am not a violent child and that I have no history of attacking other children even when provoked.

Finally my mom shows up. She's pissed because she has been called there in the first place, she takes me aside with my troop leader and asks me if I did what Sandra said I did. That's when I started to cry and get so upset. All that seething frustration came pouring out of me then. I of course told them the truth, that I had indeed not hit that lying piece of shit like she was accusing me of doing.

Mom and my troop leader talked alone for a moment and then went over and talked with the two teachers. My mom was a teacher, so she knew how to talk to other teachers on their level and not just as a parent. I didn't hear any of their conversations, all I knew was that finally Mom came to get me and I went home with her, those two teachers still glaring at me in judgment.

I remember taking one last look at Sandra as we walked past her to leavethe MPR, she had this sheepish look on her routundly stupid, ugly face. I remember thinking that one day I would be vindicated for her lie against me. One day she would be punished for lying about me.  I am sure she has been punished in some way after 43 years. At least that is what I tell myself. My one real vindication in all this is that she was born ugly and it would take a buttload of plastic surgery to make her look even a tenth as good as I did on a very bad day.

As you can see, I still have some anger over this incident. If there is one thing I hate, it's being lied to and/or about. Which is why I am seething right now.

Ok, dinner is ready to put on the table now. Hope everyone is having a lovely Wednesday evening <grin>.

Ciao!

I have been thinking about what it means to be a shaman, a real shaman. Shamans are not just healers. Healers walk only in the light and seek to heal that which is sick. Yes, shamans do healings, but that is not their whole function. Shamans are not sorcerers, for sorcerers walk the dark side only and seek to purposely harm others. Shamans walk a middle path of balance. They seek to heal when asked and protect when necessary. They wish no harm, but will protect whenever and whatever is necessary to protect without doing harm if and when possible. And so I am attempting to walk that middle path. Balance is hard when you walk a path alone. It's not that it can't be done, it's just that it is more difficult when you are alone. What that aloneness does is make you a better and stronger shaman.  Shamans generally walk their path of balance alone.

Now, this is what I tried to post early this morning and have been fucking with all day. I think this is going to work, and so I apologize to those of you who have had to endure this mess.

Here goes:

Have y'all been paying attention? Tired of my tirades? Hmmm... I am holding back, I promise you. You are not even seeing a tenth of how I am feeling inside right now.

Yesterday's horoscope will give you a glimpse, but even this does not touch how I am feeling right now.

Personal Daily Horoscope of 3, March 2007 for J, born 21 May 1954.

 

During this time it is necessary to proceed slowly and cautiously. The more thoroughly and carefully you perform any task, the more chance there is that it will succeed. This can be a very frustrating and irritating time, when all your efforts to assert yourself are blocked, more by a sense of internal inadequacy than by circumstances or other people. However, you are not likely to take negative reinforcement laying down, even if it comes from within yourself. That part of you that is struggling to break free from inhibitions will feel very angry at being held back. Consequently you are likely to be irritable and easily angered, although your inner doubts make you reluctant to show your anger openly. But no matter how hard you try to cover it up, everyone willbe quite aware that you are seething inside.

https://calculator.eons.com/calculator/age?t=1  <~~~~this is how old I am going to live to be according to this life expectancy calculator.

Too lazy to click on the link? Ok, 99, I am going to live to be 99. Sue says, "Yeah, 99, unless I kill you first." You might want to click on the link just to see what your life expectany is, go ahead, take the test....

So Sue took it, she is going to live to be 90. That's good because I am going to die about 2 or 3 years before she does. That means she is going to be hanging around taking care of all the animals a couple years longer than me.

Sue is doing Kaitlyn's life expectancy right now. I figure if she is honest about how much processed food (McDonald's) that kid eats that she ought to come out with a life expectancy of 13 years old or so.

Anyway, I thought it would be nice to let you all know that I am going to be around making your lives miserable for years to come. Hehehehehe.... I can't wait, getting started on it today!

Ciao baby

I have been digging through my memory, remembering what being raped feels like. That feeling of total violation. Being forced to do what you do not want to do against your will. I won't get into my personal history of violations in my life, but suffice to say, I know how I feel when I have been violated.

I know what it feels like to feel dirty, used and creepy inside, like you will never heal from it all, like it's all your fault, like you deserved to get hurt like that. After all, you are the one who put yourself in that position where you got hurt, especially as a 3 year old, it's all your fault. Just being born was excuse enough for you to deserve to be treated like you have no value. I know what it feels like to let it just fester for years and years until it becomes this putrid flesh laying off to one side, smelling of decay and death inside of you. A blackened part of your soul that you have tried very hard to hide from everyone, including yourself.

It's something you never talk about, something you have to keep to yourself for fear that others will see you as less than whole, less than them, less than a real person. Even though as the years wear on, you learn to keep it hidden away, even from your own memory, still, every step you take is one to avoid touching it or going near it. Every move you make is one to keep you from having to see it, face it, watch it writhing there in the corner, broken, decaying, shattered, silently screaming in pain.

Every relationship you ever have is one to make you avoid it, or maybe even worse, one that slams it hard with whips and chains, that make the pain so intense that you still cannot really see "it" because the pain you are allowing yourself to experience in relationship is almost greater than the original pain you are trying to avoid. You spend years on end seeking out that which will abuse you worse than your original abuse. Something that will make you hurt worse, somewhere else in your being, anything is better than that original pain.

And after years and years of self abuse, allowing yourself to be used and shit on spiritually, mentally, physically and emotionally by not only your self, but everyone you call into your life, one day, if you are lucky, if you get tired enough of all the pain (which is really all you have ever known),  you decide you just can't take it anymore, that you really do want something different, that you really do want to be happy.  For once, you want to know what real happiness might really be like and you have finally figured out that repeating the same thing over and over again and expecting different results really is insanity. And so you seek out a different approach, you look for a different way other than the one you have always tried since the first time someone violated you. If you are very, very lucky, you find the help you need to stop the insanity, to stop the running from the pain and shame and to attempt to heal from the festering, blackened wound inside your soul.

And then if you are very honest and very real and very brave and look at it openly, you probably will eventually heal. After all those years of stepping around it to avoid it, you find you must go through it to finally once and for all make it go away and stop hurting forever. One day, the pain is no longer there, and the memory is just that, a memory of something you survived. You find yourself no longer seeking out that which will cause you pain anymore. You find yourself trying to establish healthy relationships with people who don't need to abuse or be abused to feel alive.

And if you work really hard, you grow spiritually in ways that allow you to be able to share with great unconditional love and vulnerability with others. It takes time as an adult to learn who is safe to be that open and vulnerable with and who is not. Slowly but surely you learn though, and you try hard to not let yourself be hurt, you work very hard to be a good caretaker with yourself and to love yourself enough so that no one else can honestly hurt you inside. You learn who you really are and fall in love with that incredible person. Love them enough that you actually can love others sincerely and honestly from your heart of hearts.

So when someone comes along, someone you allowed yourself to be completely open and vulnerable with, and they perpetrate against you in the worst way possible, despite all you have been through, despite all the healing you have done, despite all the love you have for yourself, and how hard you try to take care of yourself, you are still wounded to the core because their violation of you is so great. And what happens inside you is that you feel that violation, that perpetration just as strong and painfully as you did when it happened to you the first time in life.

Especially when they act like the violation never really happened, like you're making it all up. When they claim they never raped you, that you are lying. When they lie so blatantly to themselves and everyone else as if what they did to you, you had asked for or worse, make you out to be crazy like they have no idea what this crazy thing is you are accusing them of is all about, well, you feel powerless and violated even more. You pay the price for their shame and guilt. They dump all their shame on you and make everything you are feeling your fault. And you feel completely powerless to do anything at all as you lay there writhing in your pain from the new wounds that have been inflicted.

And when you look around you, even the few people who witnessed your rape are denying it too. Then to have one of them become a party to the rape, someone you thought loved you as a friend, the pain only grows deeper and more intense. With everyone around you telling you to forget about it all, to just walk away, yet they are not seeing that as you try to get up and walk away, the rapist is kicking you and throwing rocks at you when they are not looking and mocking you even more. And if you say anything to people, they say, you are exaggerating it or imagining it, just walk away. You wonder if they would walk away if they were having the same experience you were having.

You wonder if this rapist could actually be punished by law, if there was some law on the legal books of this country against what they did, would others still tell you to walk away? You wonder if they would tell you to press charges and go to court and testify against the person who wounded you so deeply. You wonder if they would tell you to walk away from that scenario. They would probably tell you that you should press charges in that case, because after all the rapist broke the law. But all these well meaning folk don't see the spiritual law(s) that were broken with my rapist and how deeply I was injured and wounded when I was assaulted by this rapist. They say I am being overly dramatic. Call me drama queen behind my back, and yet had I physically been attacked, they would not feel this way. Yet I was spiritually, mentally and emotionally attacked and in a most brutal way and the attacks have continued, rocks keep being hurled, and kicks to the groin when no one is looking. And no one gives a fucking rats ass about what is happening or has happened. Because it doesn't appear that I am being violated, at least not in their eyes.

I have no police to go to, to court to address my injury with. No prison or punishment for my violator to recieve for all the pain inflicted. No, I am supposed to walk away and just forget it all and let karma do it's thing in it's own time.

And what I have to say to that advice is this: Not this time.  

I walked away as child so many times I cannot remember them all, each time losing a precious piece of my spirit to the attacks and the perpetrator. And as an adult, I walked away over and over again, each time my soul bleeding, scarred and powerless. No, this time I am standing up for myself and I am fighting this. I am not going to walk away from my rapist feeling powerless and victimized. Never again. I refuse to ever be abused again. And I refuse to let anyone get away with abusing me, attempting repeatedly to take my power away and not having to make amends for it.

No one is ever going to abuse me again. I am never going to be raped again. And the abuse I continue to suffer at this rapist's hands is stopping right now. No more stones cast or kicks to my groin when no one is looking. No more attempts to hurt me further will be tolerated.

And if you feel you need to judge me for feeling this way then, whatever, that's your lesson, not mine. Mine is to protect me from further injury. My lesson right now is all about loving me enough that no one is or ever will be allowed to purposely violate my person and power again. No one. Period.

Ok, here's a good one, I woke up dreaming I was writing the opening line from a book I am writing. The funny part was, it was all about someone who is not necessarily a main player in this book, more like a peripheral hanger on. Nevertheless, here's the name that came to me in the dream, Reagahn Meagahn Antonelli. A confused Italian Irish girl from Chicago who's parents cruelly named her that back in 1980. Her parents were drug addicts (and still are) at the time of her birth and they found the rhyming play on words for her two given names to be hilarious. (btw, for those of you who don't know how the writing process works, this is how it works, I actually woke up knowing all this about Reagahn Meagahn, her motivations in life and how she got her name).

 

At any rate, Reagahn Meagahn Antonelli went by Meg and had been married at least twice in her 27 years (and just so happens to be currently married to some guy name Tim Cauhnt, a real putz and a sanitation engineer) and so had lost the Antonelli name long ago. She had had one child out of wedlock at 15 and had had two more, one with the first husband and 1 with Tim, all three girls. In the opening paragraph however, we meet Meg laying spread eagle on her back in the middle of having a conversation about how she got named Reagahn Meagahn Antonelli with Harold (he has no last name yet), her Sugar Daddy as he is busy doing his business on top of her.

 

The odd part about this dream is, I am just in the middle of character development and I honestly haven't named any characters yet. Well, except for Meg, she has a name now. At the end of this opening scene/dialog, Harold finishes his business and as Meg is leaving his house, he gives Meg a check for $500 so she can pay her utilities this month. Harold at least gets laid once in a while for the money he puts out to support Meg and her occasionally working husband. Meg also works in a roadhouse as a waitress in a little one horse town in the middle of the Southwest Missouri Ozarks near the Arkansas border. She is mildly attractive, but more than anything, she is a really good at making men feel like they want to give her the world on a platter, she just has no idea how to get the kind of men she really wants. What she really wants is men with money, prestige and power. So far, Harold is the only one she has managed to catch the eye of who has any expendable income to share with her.

 

So that's how it works. You just watched/read the development (so far) of a minor character in a book who just so happens to open the book, or at least this chapter. The fun part about characters you create is, you can do anything to and with them you want. It's sort of like playing the Sims only with words. It's simply the act of creation. Giving birth to that which lives in your head and heart.

 

Someone told me yesterday that I am more honest here than they would be in their journal if they had one. I just want to mention here that I am not nearly as honest as I could be. These are my feelings, my perceptions of my experiences and the ensuing thoughts that come from my experiences. I am blatantly honest with my feelings. But even in here I am not as honest as I could be. I often hide things, veil them so that the real feelings and thoughts remain hidden. Where I put the real feelings, when they scream out to be expressed, is in my very private journal. There, the real feelings are allowed full expression. I hold nothing back in there. I can say exactly what I feel like in there because I completely control the access to that place. So if you have ever seen it, feel privileged, it's extremely rare that I share it with anyone.

 

Barbara Harmony says I should be writing and so I am writing. Now if only I spent more time in school studying syntax and how to conjugate a verb. I am not really sure what a past participle is, I do however remember missing that question repeatedly on tests and in class discussions. Maybe if I knew how to conjugate a verb and could tell you what a past participle was, I would actually be a better writer.  I'd like to say I would be a published writer, but I already am a published writer. Got paid money and everything. It was of course for a fetish publication and was written with obsessed straight males in mind, but hey, I managed to get it written and I got paid, and they printed the sucker in their rag, so I am a published author.

 

In a final bit of news here, I still don't smoke. I dreamt I did last night (Glen says "we call that "Using" dreams in program" <grin>). In fact, I was chain smoking in my dream last night.  (Glen says I always chain smoked, I said, "No, not like this, I was lighting one smoke off of the other I was smoking so much.") Today I hacked up some ugly shit. Sue says that will go on for a while and that my body is starting to detox from the nicotine. I am not sure about that since I am still on a patch, albeit a lower dose patch. I think I need some lung cleaning stuff, like a steam cleaning/extraction machine or something. Do they make that for lungs?

 

Ok, I am done....

 

Ciao baby.