Rain drops are the tears of sad wandering souls...
souls that have no home..
souls crying in desperation...alone souls.
each tear/rain drop,
sadness falling to the earth,
soaking into the hardness of life.
a lost soul, crying out for what they cannot have..
hungry, alone, drifting..
dark clouds of wandering souls of sadness,
crying out to be heard
but dripping to the ground...
absorbed and evaporated, denied existence
a rainstorm of sustained sadness
soaking the earth...
Sammy
Shame on me,
for being born..
shame on me,
for fucking up my life..
shame on me,
for trying to be happy...
shame on me,
for having a shit brain...
shame on me,
for having alters...monsters...
shame on me,
for thinking I might matter...
shame on me,
for thinking I am loved...
shame on me,
for thinking I might be important...
shame on me,
for believing lies..
shame on me,
for my actions...
shame on me,
for my opinions...
shame on me,
for speaking out...
shame on me,
for thinking I even matter...
SHAME ON ME...
I know for a fact that my mother has always been ashamed of me. Never once did she ever say to me "I am so proud of you" or anything to pronounce any type of love of me. Of course, through my adult years I do remember her saying to me " I love you". but almost always it was a knee jerk reaction to me saying "I love you" first. If I bought anything new, as in clothes, or furniture, or whatever, and I showed her, she would just smile and nod...never the compliment. I could never make her happy. I could never be a daughter. She had no time for me. But, now it seems that she no longer has time for my sister either. She is ignored by mom, just as I am. Only baby brother is the golden child. All her love and devotion and momness goes to him.
My son, would get so angry with me, when his friends would come over. He was so ashamed of me, he hated when I talked with or visited with his friends. I could never go to his place of business, or comment on his facebook page because I had explicit instructions to never show up. My son was embarrassed and ashamed of me too.
I never had girlfriends, but one, my entire life. I had one best friend, that knew me better than anyone, and for years we were so tight. Then one day....poof...she was gone. The day I left Oklahoma and my husband, my one best friend was gone with the wind. She became ashamed of me and our friendship.
I left social media. My posts and comments on facebook were shameful to my family....if I ever spoke my mind, that was shameful. I was bringing shame to my family. Leaving my husband brought shame to my family.....never mind my mom was married three times. Never mind my daughter (in her thirties) and already divorced twice. But I AM THE SHAMEFUL ONE.
Last night, I was looking at some friends and family members social media pages.... there I posted pics of the few people who are important to me, that I love and felt would not be ashamed of having their picture in my account. I have tons of pictures of me with my friends or advocate, because they make me happy. But their pages have zero pictures of me. Why??? AGAIN, IT IS BECAUSE I AM SHAMEFUL. I guess I am the kinda friend you acknowledge in private, but not in public. NONE of my kids social media pages have pictures of me...none of my friends, not even my advocate has pictures of me....I am the dirty little secret. At least publicly, I am the dirty little secret.
I have wrote about this before I am pretty sure. But the words to my poem are still ringing in my ears.
THE DIRTY SECRET
I am the secret,
hush hush, don't say a word
phone rings, leave the room
camera out, get out of range
No pictures to post
not of the dirty little secret
no one can know.
Too many will be hurt
they won't understand
a lie, by omission
but still, the dirty little secret.
So, we decided to delete any pictures in my social media accounts that I have left, that have anybody but me in them. From now on, anyone looking at my pics will only see me, or boomer or my rats, I will not force "anyone" to be seen with me.
Surely, that will appease everyone.
I am fun to be with in private, behind closed doors...but to the world, I don't exist in their lives, I am omitted from their family pictures. Obviously ashamed to be associated with me...the fucking freak. I am not family after all...
I have been with friends and family while tons of pictures were being taken, some with me in them, but the pics that show up on social media are always the pics where I am absent. You know what that says to me?" I don't matter.
"yes, of course we love you, or you are my friend, or part of my family, --to my face--- but later, on social media or whatever, the only pics posted are the ones where I am not in them. I was there, but omitted from the pic others may see. That hurts me more than anything...when I am in the same room with everyone, yet later pics show I am not there.....again, the fucking dirty secret, invisible.
When will I get it into my thick skull, I am only paid lip service in private....if someone can get something or wants something from me. I am important to them, but if not...fuck me. I understand my kids being this way...most kids are that way towards their parent, but non family treats me this way...so, I know I am not important....I could drop off the face of the earth and nobody, maybe save one, would even know I was gone.
The fervent wish of all people who have dirty little secrets, is that one day that secret would disappear for good.
I am disappearing already. We all are.
S<T<s
I am pagan. Wiccan. I believe in the power of the universe and I believe there are many gods and goddesses. I believe I am a goddess. I do not believe in the "one god" "heaven and hell" theology.
With that said, I believe in "spells"...which is not unalike "prayer" except that more symbolism is used. Casting spells, good or bad, can have repercussions that are not always pleasant to receive, even if a "good" spell was cast.
For example: I would never cast a spell that would bring harm to anyone or anything. I do not believe in creating a harmful karma.
So my advocate is a huge Dallas Cowboys football fan. For the game this past sunday, I cast a spell for victory, with the caveat that no player on either team would be hurt or injured. A good clean game. I lit a gold candle for victory, and a blue for determination, calm, and clarity. Dallas won the game by 1 point at the very end of the 4rth quarter. The win was so spectacular...no other team has ever come back to win by 1 point in the way, dallas did with this game. He was so excited.
I did not tell him I cast a spell for victory until the game was over. the way the game was going, I figured it was not in the universes plan for dallas to win...it looked bad. then out of nowhere, here come the cowboys for a spectacular win...
I was so happy....no team players of either team were hurt or injured. It was a good clean fun game. I felt my "spell" had been answered. And it was....
However, I believe what you put out there will come back to you, either good or bad....the very next day, I started feeling really angry...for no reason. Everyone and everything was pissing me off and causing me to feel rage...Why??? nothing was going on to piss me or anyone of my alters off....so why did I feel like a fucking pissed off angry monster???
Then it hit me. Karma. I put a spell out for Dallas to win, but the game be safe for all players. But in Dallas winning, and the way they won, the opposing team and opposing team fans were angry. They lost when they thought victory was at hand....
Their rage and anger was coming to me, their angry karma, was hitting me...I was "standing in the gap" of their anger, rage, disgust, discouragement and disbelieve of the game....I was having to feel all their emotions. I had not thought about the feelings and repercussions coming back to me like that....afterall, I thought I was hurting none. But I was hurting thousands of fans and the players...
All spells have repercussions, even good spells. I am learning that with every good there is a bad. What you put out there, comes back to you 100 fold.
Today, I am feeling better...I slept 12 hours last night.
I tried to explain what was going on with me to my advocate, but he just did not understand. He discounts my "karma" thinking...he is not a believer like I am....he is scientific and rational. Witchcraft is not scientific or really rational...so he cannot understand the repercussions of spells....It does not compute in his brain.
But there it is......I don't think I will cast another "victory" spell for Dallas. I hate the way I have to feel the next day....
It was not my alters who were angry (as he was thinking about calling them out one by one to ask them) it was the emotions of the losing team and losing team fans rage and disappointment energy that was released....and I felt a small impact of that energy, but big enough impact to fuck up my day.....
But I guess, in the end, it is all good as the Cowboys won! and I learned a valuable lesson in spells.....
S
PS. I know I sound like a fucking fool, believing this way, maybe it isn't true, the Karma thing....but I believe in it anyway.
My grandson, Gage, spent much of his life in and out of the hospital. His mother, I am convinced, has Munchausen by proxy disease. She thrives on drama, especially drama concerning her kids. She is in her element when her kids are sick and everyone is telling her how great and attentive a mother she is...she gets all the attention. Well, she did not kill Gage, cancer did...but now Lane, her 4 yr old has started the hospital thang. He just got out for an ear infection? If you saw their home, it is filthy...I know that now that Gage is gone, she will turn to one of the other two boys left, to give her attention. Since Xander is a baseball savant, she will probably focus on the Lane for her "mommy attention from others"....this fucking makes me sick at my stomach.
The worse part is, my son does not tell me when one of his boys are in the hospital...I have to accidently find out. Why??? he says its because he is too busy and forgets....bullshit. He knows I know how much of a fuck his "wife" or "egg donor" is, and he will not stand up to her as a man and husband. So to avoid conflict, he leaves me out.
Fine, he can do that. But, by not keeping me up to date on my grandsons, he is doing them a disservice. He is not allowing me to be grandma...to send a card or stuffie, or call to my grandsons when they are sick or in the hospital. By shutting me out, that tells the grandsons I don't care about them...AND I DO...Lane and Xander will grow up thinking I don't care or love them...and that is just not true. I hate their fuck egg donor mother, but I love them.
The thing is, by my son shutting me out of the boys lives, he is shooting himself in the foot. If I can't be a part of my boys life, then my money and time and love will not be there for them when my son comes calling needing something.
My daughter is not much better. but at least, Kingston is never sick or in the hospital. Taryn keeps her home clean, she does her level best to keep herself and K healthy. Unlike my daughter in law, who keeps her house filthy and her kids sick for attention and because she is such a big fat morbidly obese woman who is too fucking lazy to get her fat ass off the couch....I know, even though Taryn does not keep me up to date on Kingston, at least I know he is properly being taken care of....but the same thing goes for Taryn, if she continues to shun me of any information on Kingston, she is shooting herself in the foot too.
I will not be taken advantage of. If my kids want something, they will have to give me something in return. Namely, access to my grandsons.
I have raised the most selfish, self-centered kids in america. They were spoiled for having such a great childhood and having everything handed to them...they have no ideal about reality...they are ignorant. They think I will always be there for them when they need me...well that is not ME. They treat me like shit, then they will eat my shit.
Fuck them.
S
I wonder what it would be like to have had a childhood like my kids had.
I wonder what it would have been like to be married to a man I loved.
I wonder what it would have been like to be a happy child.
I wonder what it would have been like to go to bed and sleep without fear...he would show up.
I wonder what it would have been like to be excited when daddy got home from work, instead of terrified.
I wonder what it would have been like to have a loving mother.
I wonder .....
My life would have been so different...I would not have DID. I would not have depression, I would not have sought out men to hurt me...I would not have hated my life. I would have been a better daughter, wife, mother, grandma. I would not have ran from my life.
My childhood ruined me. A child is not resilient, does not snap back or forget bad memories. A child stuffs bad deep down, and pretends it is gone away. A child is molded and shaped by its parents and environment. A crappy childhood, makes a crappy person, usually.
I tried to put an end to that cycle of abuse. I tried to be a good person, I tried to give my kids the life I did not have. I tried to love my mother, I really did. I tried to talk about my bad memories to my husband, but it fell on deaf ears...so like a child, I had to stuff it. The more I tried to be good, the worse I got. I became to the consumate actress. "I am fine", "I am good" "nothing is wrong" "I am happy" but those lies didn't fool me, even though they fooled others. When I broke down and was committed into the hospital...it became apparent that I was "not okay". All the stuff I stuffed, was spilling out at the seams and I was falling apart. I had no love around me, I had selfish kids and an absent husband...I was alone around a sea of people.
So I had two options, die or leave. So I left.
I wonder if my childhood had been different, if I would have left.
I wonder if I would have been happy, if my childhood was happy.
I wonder what type of person I would be today, if my mother had loved me.
but today...I am this....
Broken
split
depressed most of the time
not happy, but not unhappy
a mental nightmare
full of fear and phobias
deviant sexually
alone for the most part
lost, lonely
However, I am also..
grateful
away from sadness
finally in love with someone
trying real hard to not fuck up my life
trying to come to grips with DID
learning my alters
reliving my nightmares and talking about them
blogging
taking care of myself...ie, eating good, exercising, sleeping
trying to find a purpose....
I wonder what my purpose is? Have I already served my purpose by procreating to the species? Is that all I was born to do?
I wonder if I am missed at all?
I wonder if Karma will be good to me, or will I always be punished for being "Missy, melissa, sparrow"
I wonder if my destiny is to be alone...or if my destiny is with the man I love now and my alters...
I wonder if I am to speak out about DID, childhood abuse, and the like, I should I just keep my big fat mouth shut.
I am confused about my new life.....why me?
I have so many questions, and those questions will never be answered....open ended questions to fuck with the rest of my life.
S
There once was a little girl playing in a garage. Riding her sisters tricycle around and around inside...she was hoping no one would notice her. She is not suppose to ride that tricycle...she was told she would break it...so she is riding it when she thought she was alone. As she rounded the corner, she saw him, standing in the doorway...watching, smoking a cigarette, hands in his pockets. Quickly she got off the tricycle "see, I didn't break it", she whispered.
He tossed the cigarette on the ground and continued to stare at her. "What am I going to do with you?" she said nothing, just stared at her feet...."you were told to not ride that bike"..."but here you are trying to be sneaky...."and with that, he took 3 or 4 strides to her and grabbed her by the hair, and lifted her up onto her tippy toes....I think you need to be alone and think about your disobedience...
He dragged her to the small garage closet...he reached in and took out whatever was in the small closet, then shoved her into the closet...shutting the door and pushing something up against it so she could not open the door. She could hear him walk away, then slam the garage door closed.
She sat there....alone...in the dark...it was hot in the closet. It smelled like mildew, and dead critters...the smell was overpowering as was the dark tight space....she needed to pee so bad...she was so scared...how long will he leave her in this closet?....she imagined bugs and mice crawling all over her...she thought about screaming and banging on the door, but knew that would only bring "him" back...so she sat there.
At first she cried, then she stopped crying and started humming to herself...she pulled herself up into a tight ball and hummed for hours...it seemed...
finally, she heard the garage door open, footsteps, something being pulled back and the door opened. He stood there, looking down at her..."did you think about what you did?" she didn't answer, just stayed in the tiny ball....she had to pee so bad, it was causing her stomach to cramp....he reached in and grabbed her hair and hauled her to her feet, then she couldn't hold the pee anymore and she wet herself....this disgusted him and he pushed her back into the closet and slammed the door....she lay there in her urine soaked shorts....
She does not know how long she was alone in that dark room, but after awhile, the door opened..."get up and go get cleaned up..." it was her mother, letting her out. She quietly got up and left the closet and went into the house, into the bathroom, and silently cried. He was gone, not in the house. The mom brought her some clean clothes to the bathroom and told her to come and eat dinner.
She was so hungry, she ate everything on her plate and was allowed seconds...
S, Tessa
Sometimes, I forget to breathe,
sometimes, I forget to see.
sometimes, I forget feel,
and sometimes, I forget to heal..
sometimes they are happy,
sometimes they are sad
and sometimes, they make me really mad.
sometimes, I want to run,
sometimes, I want to stay.
sometimes, I have no fun,
and sometimes, I get to play.
sometimes, I get so tired,
sometimes, I just want to sleep.
sometimes, I am so wired,
and sometimes, I hurt too deep..
sometimes, I feel so good,
sometimes, I do not.
sometimes, I do what a should,
and sometimes, I have to accept my lot.
sometimes I dream...
but sometimes, all I do is scream.....
S/Sophee
I love living where I live. There are so many critters...way more than in Oklahoma. Just at my complex alone I have a family of deer, a buck, doe and twin babies.
I have a raccoon that likes to get in my trash can. In fact, I kept hearing a knocking sound, and discovered this little guy in my trash can...the can was empty and he couldn't get out, I tipped it over and he scampered up the tree.
..the first fall I was here, a black bear kept knocking over our trash cans, but later that bear was hit by a car, so sad...I also have rabbits everywhere, here is one sitting on the curb. I also have chipmonks that fill up their cheeks with the food I leave out..
I hung a hummingbird feeder, and have now got hummingbirds.
I feed squirrels on my balcony and have numerous pics of them, but this pic is hilarious...he chewed off the plastic lid on the jar, and would go inside the jar to eat his food...cracking me up
In my storage shed, my advocate had to relocate a 5 foot long black snake, but I got to keep the snake skin it shed...
Not to mention, my three pet fancy rats and my dog Boomer.
Living here is always an adventure...the down side...I had a fucking wolf spider in my house that was as big as the palm of my hand...NOW THAT...I can do without!
S
ps. my advocate shot this early this morning, the little raccoon on my balcony bannister
So last night,(two nights in a row) there was banging around on my balcony, again....a quick look out the window revealed my raccoon was back. I decided to name him "Bandit". I set out a hard boiled egg for him...
Yesterday I spent time at Gagey Tree, reflecting on his 8 short years of life...I reflected on what type of man he would have grown up to be, I wondered what his profession would have been, would he have married and had children, would he have made a difference in the world, had he lived? It is so sad that he will never grow up, but forever be a child.
My advocate, me and Boomer...took a lunch out and sat next to the tree. I called John, he wanted me to call when I got to the tree, we talked about Gagey, it was a good phone call....
So, now we move forward...the first year anniversary is over...hopefully instead of being sad or angry from this time forward, I am going to try and be hopeful and happy, because I know that is what Gagey would want...for me to be happy. Boomer is always happy to come to the tree, it is a happy place for him, with the creek and open space, as you can see from this picture:
So if my dog can be happy and make the most of a bad situation, then so can I....we all can.
S
I thought being abused as a child was horrible, I thought my head injury and consequent brain tumor/tumors were horrible, splitting from my husband and leaving everything I knew was horrible because it is so sad I was basically "forced" to leave...to leave a horrible situation...There have been so many horrible shocking things that have passed through my life.......but the worst, most horrible sickening thing happened one year ago today.
My 8 yr old grandson died of Chordoma. From his diagnosis to this death, only 6 weeks.....6 weeks to shove a lifetime of living down his little throat. 6 weeks to love him and spend as much time possible staring at his beautiful face, listening to his beautiful voice, touching him, hugging him, kissing him....6 weeks watching him die, an agonizing death in which the tumor literally cut his spine in two, killing him. An innocent child, struck down by a monster....The moment he died was the exact moment I turned my back on religion and god. No god would let this happen to a child....there is no god.
God was not there, when that fucking pig pedophile so severely abused me, god was not there when I was on that island being chased like a dog by more pedophiles, god was not there when my head was so fucked up with memories....god was not there when I wanted to die....god was not there when the cancer monster came to me.....god is not real...the day my grandson died was the day any type of christian god or belief died with him.
I got over my life....I had managed to forget and put away all those horrible fuck childhood memories...I had managed to make a life for myself, my children, I was trying so hard to be happy....I was taking care of me for the first time ever....I was beginning to be happy again....then Gage got sick....my fucked up life came crashing down again...weighting me down with so much grief and sadness that I can hardly breath...
I don't know how I am going to get through today.....all I see is my Gagey struggling to breathe, struggling to talk, not able to swallow, in horrible fucking pain...how did this happen? why? what the fuck does it mean?
It is so hard to believe that it has already been a year since he died...where did that year go? where is gagey? what happened to me? I will tell you what happened to me.....I died right there with gagey....my heart stopped beating the minute his did...now I am nothing but a shell of a person, alive because my heart refuses to stop pumping useless blood through my veins...but my soul is dead....a huge part of me died with gagey....
September 1, 2019.
The worse day in history.
S++6
