We got your letter
Two days after the call
Was received politely
Requesting our address
And I read it to him
At his request, as he
Listened intently, quietly,
Then informed me that he
Wanted to draw you a picture
With the two of you holding hands
Together…together holding hands
And color you a picture of Batman.
Did I think you would be able
To hang it on your wall?
Did I think you would like it?
Well to answer just a few questions:
No, he can’t read yet. (He’s still 4).
His favorite color is purple.
He goes to daycare, entertains
His teachers and plays
With his entourage of buddies.
He’s into Batman, Spiderman,
And Superman (In that order).
He’s just…well he’s just amazing.
Is he going to think you’re a bad guy?
Is he going to hate you because of
Where your drinking and poor
Choices have landed you?
Well, those just aren’t
My questions to answer.
You say you could ask
A million questions…
Well guess what?
He would still be a dozen
Up on you.

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Sponsor: Hey, you LOOK great! How do you feel?
Girl: I feel really bad.
Sponsor: Who cares how you FEEL, you LOOK really great!
Girl forces a smile on her face and walks away thinking:
Who cares how I LOOK, I FEEL really bad….
I want to cry, scream and curse at the top of my lungs,
“Is this as good as it gets, really? Seriously?”
I want to wash down a bottle of lortab
With a Stolichnaya bloody mary, lime twist
Before screwing a stranger’s brains out….
And that’s just getting warmed up
As I obsess on packing heat in the ER
Cocked and loaded, I order him to
Shoot me up as I go down….
‘Cause there’s nothing hotter than ER sex
Laced with top grade narcotics
But I’m so angry, so angry….
I can taste the gratifying salt from my bloodied
Upper lip as I envision finally exchanging blows
With my childhood bully, who teased me
Taunted me, day after day, after day.

But who cares how I FEEL, cause I LOOK great~ right?

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The young girl sits on her grandma’s back porch during the heat of summer, feeling every bead of sweat that rolls down her skinny little back.  She is sure everyone is judging her, having bad thoughts about her, whispering about her behind her back. (This isn’t the case, for the most part).  She is angry- they didn’t understand, they will never understand, hell she doesn’t understand. “Come talk to me a minute.” She hears a familiar calm voice summon her.  She doesn’t want to talk, not to anyone, about anything. Out of respect she follows the woman outside and they sit on the tailgate of someone’s pick-up truck.  Although she can’t make direct-eye contact, she listens. (She blocks out most people and the few she chooses to listen to she does her best to keep them from knowing).  There is no scorning, no judging or preaching.  “I may not know how you are feeling, but I believe that things will get better for you.  I don’t know exactly what to say but I can tell you I love you very much. After every storm the sun eventually comes out again.”  Her heart feels unconditionally loved.  This is the first time after an extensive stay at Charter Forrest that the 15 year-old “delinquent” feels just a glimpse of hope.  These are just a few moments in time that someone wanting nothing from her, made a profound impact on her life.  There are some things she will never forget.

Thank you Aunt Rosie.


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Get Your Tongue Out Of My Mouth Because I am Kissing You Goodbye

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I am finally taking the first step in beginning to write in a blog that is my own, to get some thoughts down and out of my head, to share my feelings and well…. to write whatever the hell I want….when I want.

I am SLOWLY learning that it is alright for me to have an opinion that may differ from yours and it is also okay for me to express it. (Gratefully, I don’t feel the urge to impose my difference of opinion, or your “misunderstanding” and “naivety” of any given subject as soon as you share it).  After all, I have had countless years, hours, and sessions of learning how to properly articulate my feelings without ruffling your feathers. (More so how to just keep my mouth shut because, well, my “perceptions of reality” are distorted, I’m “crazy”, don’t have a lick of damn sense and of course I may say something to cause the big fat grey (*invisible*) elephant to stir around. (He’s old now, and hasn’t been pink for quite some time).

NOTE: “YOU” is not an individual, even 5-10 individuals, but is used to reference countless individuals ranging from teachers, doctors, close and extended family to old acquaintances over the years. (Now why did I just feel the need to elaborate on that?)

Anyway, these past few months have been pretty strange for me.  There is no doubt a retransformation of thoughts and feelings back toward a person I used to love, respect, and feel good about most of the time.  Being spiritual in nature, this is at times an uncomfortable process, but it is a “design for living” that works for me, and I refuse to let fear keep me from the path I have always been destined for due to past experiences.  Rest assured I am “easing in with my baby floaties” and have attained some new “tools” that if properly used should prevent me from getting pulled under again.

As my awesome nephew would say, those who “get the trajectory” of what I am referring to will just get it.  Those who don’t….that’s really alright too.  My blog is for me, but you are more than welcome to stop by anytime.  I have learned to be pretty assertive while respecting your feelings, so I will gladly welcome all comments and questions, while exercising my given right to politely refrain from further discussion or comment if I just don’t feel the need to “go there.”

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How do I begin this story? Where to begin? How to begin? For the sake of trying to keep things as simple as possible let me try here. It was several months ago. I was in and out of the hospital, having kidney stents placed, having them removed, this test, that test. It had been over a year since my second open pyelplasty and my hopes of ever getting help and relief for this ongoing condition had just completely been drained through my soaked pillow case of quiet tears. “Where are You God!” I cried out in despair. No more monotonous, “God thank you for this day. Lord I pray that Your will be done in my life. Thank You for keeping me sober. I need you in my life, please guide my thoughts and my actions….blah, blah, blah.” I wasn’t sober. I was dry, and I had been dry and miserable for years. “BULLSHIT, enough! Where are You? You said You would never forsake me, never leave me…WHERE ARE YOU NOW? Furthermore where were You six years ago, when I cried out for you. I was praying, I was listening (or so I thought). I was doing everything I thought You wanted me to do to the best of my ability.” (Except overworking myself, not sleeping, and just not being capable of grasping the complexity and ultimately catastrophic consequences of an illness I refused to acknowledge and accept as my own). “You left me there! You knew what they did to me and You failed to protect me like You promised!” It was at that moment I realized I had left my faith in an amazing, all powerful God in that solitary confinement cell six years ago. After years of a painfully slow and confusing physical and mental recovery, I had never recovered spiritually, I never regained my faith. So that night several months ago I finally got real, got angry, and demanded answers.

The very next day as I was watching something I cannot recall at this time on television, a soft, gentle “thought” came into my mind out of nowhere. “I never left you. I was there and I will always be there.” I didn’t think much about it and continued to watch whatever I was watching. Suddenly the full series of a memory burst its way into the forefront of my thoughts as clearly as the incident occurred that spring of 1993. I had only thought of it a couple times in the following years and at that time dismissed it as coincidence or luck, (although deep in my heart I knew better), and never spoke of it to anyone as far as a I can recall, although I cannot be certain of this. I was a senior in high school at Riverdale Academy.  I had plans to spend this particular Friday night with a friend of mine named Brandy.  For some reason my mother did not want me to go, although she had let me stay with her several times before. Although I’m not sure of the reason, since staying overnight with this girlfriend would not include drinking, sneaking out, or anything of the sort, I did not have permission to go and was going to anyway. I was sitting outside on a bench during my last break of the day when a rushing “thought” disrupted me. “GO HOME.” Now these were the days before college and drug-induced hallucinations.  I shook it off.  “GO HOME AMY.” I had to fight off the instinct to look over my shoulder to see if someone was there.  After last period I walked over to my friend and told her I couldn’t stay with her that night.  I don’t recall anything of the conversation other than the fact that it happened, then I got on the bus and quietly made my way home. First thing Monday morning I heard about the accident. Shortly after Brandy left the school property she lost control of her car and was in a catastrophic accident. The car went off the road and from what I heard she was lucky to be alive.  The next time I saw her, she had been through numerous surgeries and her beautiful face was covered with scars.  She was on crutches and I remember seeing a huge surgical scar that seemed to go halfway up her leg and crossing her deformed knee. The memory subsided with that vision and then the words came again…. “I never left you. I was there and I will always be there.”

Written 7/2011

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Sometimes the thoughts in my head
Whirl round and round
Like a ceiling fan~
Spinning, turning, spinning, turning.

Sometimes the tears from my soul
Fall like a river flowing
Needlessly downstream~
With no clear destination.

Sometimes the pain in my heart
Feels like an anchor attached to a chain
That is pulling, tugging~
Awaiting an outcry.

Sometimes I have a different feeling
Of love and tranquility
That comforts me~
And I smile.

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