jumping around...

You might think that I write linearly. But I don't. I play two games at a time, Swapping between Spades and Triple Yatchzee. (Embarrassingly, I talk to my opponents, and get frustrated.) I also went out to deal with princess and feed her. And viewed facebook, reading my children's posts. Kian's made me laugh so I responded. If read what I wrote, you wouldn't know I was crying and feeling pain and sadness moments before. I laughed and smiled and wrote as though I was talking to him. It feels connected when I do that and when I reflect on that now, I feel very sad.


I am being honest in the moment with my posts or whatever. My children have seen how I live and they know I am in pain. I will however, drag them through the day-to-day of living it with me. They are happy and I would not destroy that. I raised them to love life and to pursue their passions and dreams. The dark place I live is no place for them ... not for anyone.


One of the most honest quotes of how I am comes from In Plain Sight.

“everyone hides pieces of themselves. some hide because they don’t like being seen. some hide because they just want someone to care enough to look for them.”

I heard it first in 2008 and quotes it in this next post.

06-02-08 1:41 am

they pretend to wish the dweller well

yet keep distance from a noxious smell

I liken it to leprosy

that kind and sweet can not defeat

they shun me as though I could or ever would

more than a half of a century has past

I live unskinned, raw and wet

the mounds of flesh I pack on and shed

are an ineptness to armor and to be myself

Oxymoron. Impossibility. Idiocy. Ways to live, to be alive.

“everyone hides pieces of themselves. some hide because they don’t like being seen. some hide because they just want someone to care enough to look for them.” – wisdom from “in plain sight” pilot. I think I hide to be kind and because I really want someone to care enough to find me.

I ask for help because I want to live. I don’t want to die. I just don’t want to live. The pain is too hard to bear, even then I hold back. I want someone to care enough.

Someone being depressed is worse than spreading a deadly disease. No one will talk to me. People would rather avoid me than feel what they do is not enough. Or perhaps, to even sense even a small touch of the amount of pain I endure. No one wants to know.

It’s kindness to stay away from my family. I wish I could manage on my own. I wish I was not broken.

I feel so normal sometimes. I step into a TV show or a poem or a conversation and I can almost not notice just how close to the edge I am.

Christie’s song Mary Jane accurately depicts me. She said it wasn’t me; even when she doesn’t know, I do not think she cannot see. 

I started up the next episode of Criminal Minds where F. Scott Fitzgerald was quoted,

"Show me a hero and I will write you a tragedy."

My life is a tragedy. Where is the hero? It makes my heart lighter to think I could be one. That would be a marvelous story to script and to be read or watched on a big screen. Afterwards, the the book closes or the theatre empties and everyone moves on to daily living.

Reminds me of my poem Framed.

I deleted the episode with watching it. Fitting.

"We are all brothers under the skin and I for one would be willing to skin humanity to prove it." Ayn Rand

I think I am ordinary, like too many people, and that is a shame. I used to think God and church was a way to cope with despair of the truth of the actual condition of being alive. The meaninglessness and hopelessness of being aware of living. I found who I am in the Catholic faith. Love. I had faith as a child and I grew up and lost it. I found love and kindness as a means to tolerate myself for how I am. There is insanity and irony in the blatant contradictions.

People who found or expound great ideas of love and kindness and of living good lives are introspective with deep-setted values. Over time, people who follow them are shallow, intolerant, and demand the world agree. A good idea turned into an absolute truth breeds great evil. I suppose irony is inherited from the ability to know oneself, or seem to.

There is an accuracy to the tree of knowledge bearing the fruit of evil. I never really thought about this tail. But it is very profound and simply stated. Evil tends to pervade without introspection. Teaching values is accomplished by preaching or by rote recitation. Values are leaned by looking, evaluating, and contemplating choices.

There have been a number of gay teenage suicides because of bullying. It doesn't surprise me, when on TV our public figures advocate the unequal treatment of gay people and support hatred of all muslims as though they were of one mind (terrorists).They rally support by preying on fears and nobody points out what these intelligent politicians or public figures are willing to do for power. They sell fear for votes or viewers or out of their own fears.

I remember when Christie came home from school upset because she was being bullied. She always loved school so it was shockingly different. I asked about it. Who was bullying; where were her friends; and she painted the picture for me. I looked around in it and spent some time there and then I said that it sucks to be bullied. I imagined being her. I also imagined her friends and the bullies. I told her to think about the choices. She could be a bully but would she want to be like that. She could agree the bullies and rally with them, but would she want to be like that. She could also disagree with the bullies by stand by silently. Wouldn't be even worse to be like that? I asked her to imagine seeing someone you liked being hurt and doing nothing, apparently agreeing so as not to be picked on as well. You can understand why they are silent, but when you consider all the options, wouldn't you rather be the one being bullied. And after we talked about that, I asked well is there anyone who is not like that who is your friend .... and she said yes. So I told her to hang out with her. I think from my daughters experience and our discussion, she made the choice to be someone who stands up for her friends and she is kind.

Later on that year when she came home crying and not wanting to go back to school, I called the teachers and complained and said that they needed to be around and make the school a safe place. I kept at them. I was pissed and they took action. I took a stand when she couldn't cope. I could tell the difference between a problem and crisis and when they need me to protect them.

My children bring the best out in me. I love them. I suppose that was why I laugh and engage when I see their posts on facebook. It is like I am with them for that moment. Now is all there ever is. So for a moment, while writing I felt alive and good, until now when I didn't. It's the difference between looking at myself and being myself without an eye on me. Introspection can be pleasant or painful.

I started this off as "jumping around." I think of it as involvement is spurts. Sometimes they last for a long time and I write a lot  or play games or whatever for hours and hours. Other times involvement is very brief.

As anyone can easily see I also wander and get distracted...