Category: Stream of Thought

All this time, I could not overcome the trauma because my spine was pinched.

How I have worked, toiled, and endured – when all I needed was to literally be released from the pressure!

As the trauma begins to finally ease from occipital base release, alarmed nerves begin to calm and I remember times that things were still good between us.

He used to help me stretch-pop my back in a bear hug, for example.

And he would playfully tease me for and tolerate my affectionate pounce-snuggling.

Let the rain come down and wash my senses clean, replacing the bad with the much-needed good memories.

O blessed relief!

As my hindbrain begins to decompress after treatment, at last interpretations about the past begin to perceptably shift in the core of it.

For a moment, I could feel that what happened was never really about me.

I was just the golem in the scenery.

(Reference to the book, The Blue Adept.)

Gaslighting and subversive maneuvering could drive any reasonable person into reactivity.

She could feel the patterns of subversion and avoidance but could not stop what he was doing.

He was running away from trauma nightmares illuminated by THC which projected onto her.

I usually do not speak of the things that I write here in person.

They are on deeper processing levels than the average superficial politeness engaged between people allows room for.

To love me is to truly know and see me – to want that which is broken just as much as that which still retains its radiance.

But I have no idea how to break the silence to reach out, find, and bridge to someone prospectively designed for me.

On the surface, who I am presents a facade of intent direction and confused perplexion that hides behind an inclusive smile.

Not much of an ice breaker, and if pressured, I revert to autopilot.

My love, once spiraling outward, turns inward to explore and expand hidden dimensions.

As I pace throughout chambers attending to this or that at pressure’s or diversion’s whims, what slim silence and time on my own gathered here becomes a prized and guarded possession.

At last my lymphatic system begins to release fluid retention.

It has been both cranial and organ/abdominals that needed addressing.

The first to decompress hypervigilance; the second to restore drainage connections.

It seems better to be alone and crave love, than to be with a partner who refuses to give it.

It has been said that when your ideals shatter, so does the hold that the ego has over us.

Well, that’s all fine and dandy for those who are just beginning their learning.

But for a seasoned investor, it’s just discouragimg.

Is it reached when we give up hopes and dreams? Or when we cast aside outdated preconceptions?

Because I am swimming in the mire of internal emotional particals slurried together in a slew of stress-reactive chemicals, I am not sure that my life will ever get better in as far as I can extricate myself from viewing trauma retriggering negatively.

My sign if I ever got forced into an anti-war rally.

Warmed up, pre-cooked chicken and some canned, sodium-free peas from the store are nibbled upon and scooped into a delicate yet determined mouth, whereupon remnant bones are pushed through the straw-sized hole of an empty Starbucks cup – to be thown away later as a solution better than just being tossed straight onto the floor.

When the song “Sweet Dreams” first came out, it was breaking societal barriers where we had still been struggling under social conceptual repression.

80’s and 90’s, baby.

Now such liberating concepts are more mainstream accepted, but I remember how it felt to be one of the suppressed – unshackled.

Some say that it is better to be single – and lately, I am beginning to experience some advantages.

But, I have always desired the sense of being in a whole unit family.

Without it, pieces just seem to be missing.

This evening was my first bike ride out to the park and along the river, stopping along the way back home at a little neighborhood garden stand where I obtained a sunburst squash and sunflower seedlings, as well as some calendula packeted seeds.

Once I had met my fiance, I set out to find us a new place where we could have our family.

The journey uprooted me, and I traveled along different paths than I had ever gone on before, encountering many road blocks and difficulties.

I asked him for his patience and to believe in me. I promised I would succeed again and that he could count on me.

And though he left when it got very hard and is no longer with me, I am beginning to feel trickles of a great satisfaction coming because I am finding my groove again – and manifesting.

The long mirror on her bedroom had been there for who knew how long. It was rippled and disorted the figure, making difficult issues seem even more unapproachable.

She decided one day to completely cover it by a long, dark-woven blue and green hued symbol and floral patterns. Once it could no longer be seen, she soon felt her health recovering.

Right now, I’m not perfect.

In fact, I’m all-over-the-place messy.

But, my shoulder yielded this evening.

And another once-frozen muscle reactivated.

If I keep making things more and more simple, eventually I will get to the root of it all.

And from there, I can branch out and excel again.

I finally could hold back no longer and had to state my concern to the marijuana shop over their advertisement. It was funny as heck, and I appreciated the humor, but the message could steer people in a not-so-healthy direction. Surprisingly, the gent behind the counter was receptive – and we came up with a solution!

You have made your choices.

I can no longer afford to care.

When the tension flares up and I am blamed for another’s personal sense of helplessness, it feels like I cannot break free of our past tragedies – and that I am marked as social pariah, forever to be only seen as a survivor

I have the edgings of jowels, now – WTF!

It could be funny – in fact, hilarious – but that’s my skin misbehaving!

The words whispered, “I am not loved,” are devastating.

I was beautiful, gregarious in my shyness, a soul of kindness, and innovating.

But the puppets around me danced to repeatedly crratr thry same scene:

” I am not cherished for who I am – and tbus, discarded.”

I remember when my face fell.

That’s when the first had me.

Then another joined from the pendant.

Then another from the window.

And another mirror.

And then, almost everywhere.

In the camera

At the fairs.

Haunting me.

Warping me.

Lying.

I know who I am.

I know what I could be.

But I can’t be who I was.

They stole my youth.

They took that from me.

All I have now is a new identity.

Wait before you envy me.

I have paid a terrible price.

I was born as if a saint to balance the wreckage of other people’s behaviors; to oust abuses as if I were a savior; and to calm quivering hearts that are tender. I wish that these abilities could work to help my family. But those closest to us do not always want to listen.

My dark side is not pretty – especially when driven into self-defending.

I was raised but a fierce-cutting witch’s blade – so fear me if you think I’m “made.”

Yes, I know you have me.

Maybe from the spells his “mistress” cast.

It makes me mad that he fell for that old trickery.

He had known and wanted better for us once, but then let go of his responsibility.

You are not me, have not had my trials – so do not fear my trials as if they are your own. They are not nor ever will they be.

What right do I have now to desire love?

Why should I accept it if it were to come – now that I am beaten and kicked down to the gutter?

Do not have pitty on me now, oh love.

Where were you when I was bright and hopeful?

When I was on my knees and dutiful?

When I was self-sacrificial and faithful?

When I was valiant and championed you above all others?

Oh fickle, errant love – how you have betrayed my heart’s beliefs and destroyed my self confidence.

I am only remnants of what I could have become had you embracsd me.

When I look into the mirror, I see myself aging. Rapidly. In one year, my hair has gone from hints to streaks of silver graying. It happened after I changed shampoos. People I meet just see me as me and my kid is afraid to hear my distress because they don’t want to get a phobia about aging. But they weren’t listening when I tried to explain what I was feeling. What I am seeing. Something has happened to me. And it got a jump start when my husbsnd left, I had a small stroke, and the Crone laughed as she attached to me that one day when I put on the pendant. The struggle to find and reclaim myself before time runs out is upon me. I have never been here before, and no one stands beside me. Who I am inside is under assault by external entropy. This isn’t aging. It is a spell that’s siphoning energy. Maybe it’s all of the stress that continues weighing. Maybe its the lack of rest while I keep striving to overcome the sense that I’m dying.

Pulled out breach and soon dropped onto head.

It’s a wonder I walk with grace and speak with articulate eloquency.

Nestling into simple patterns so that when difficulties arise, it is easier to address them.

A primary goal for me had been to find my man, have a family, and settle into a life of mutuality and adventurous co-evolving.

Having given my younger decades to this cause, I find it exasperating and disorienting to find myself single and without intention of dating.

I mean, am I just giving up?

Yet, how and why would I wish to invest time in another person who could just change his mind on a whim and leave me in a lurch again?

Like a cat forced to haul itself up a tree, claws extended into scrabbling for traction – then hiss-spitting disfavor on a branch in reaction – I have been alarmed by the ignorant mistreatment of love’s innocent purity by the world.

And I am not pleased.

Perhaps I am still doing to much.

Perhaps I must further do less.

If it is true that I “did everything right” in positivity, then I should no longer accept responsibily for others’ claims that I caused harm.

A scholarship notification came through my email today with tomorrow as its deadline.

It is sizeable enough to grant me 5-6 units, inspiring me to attempt to obtain it!

When a huge truck rumbles aggressively as it speeds past me, I find that I have a reaction of anger at the driver’s obstinant blasting past the speed limit along residential and school zones.

I thought that I just very much disliked the willfulness in lawbreaking being conveyed, but now I wonder if the large and loud noise suddenly growl-rumbling so close to me sets off my alarmed reactivity.

Some say that there are none to Truth.

But there are many, and what matters is honesty.

Our garden in pots can at first look a bit skewn about. But as the season weathers on, more seeds planted and mulch convering placed over the potted soil’s surfaces will make the whole display seem well cultivated.

For as much as I could stay in bed, it seems that I rarely get to indulge in doing so.

I have refused to let myself succumb to that depression I intuited was creeping around hidden corners.

But now at 2am, it feels so wonderful to lie down and let go of gravity’s struggles.

I love that you are moving forward from those dark days which seem not so long ago.

Thank you for taking time this evening to share your special kind of love with our family.

That crisp-chickering sound of a male quail alerting his flock of foragers, my ears had been dialed to keen listening by a sound before that I had thought might be a woodpecker.

With the dogs on the porch, I could hardly believe it – but there he was, a proud sentinal perching on the neighbors fence where I could see him!

And then I realized the call before had also been his, guiding his family.

Tolerance.

Too much willingness to allow understanding of other’s situations has backfired on me.

Allowing people into my sphere and caring for them deeply is what has foibled me.

I did not vet them even more before, as I ought to have.

I just observed that they seemed nice – and my heart was striving.

(Title of multiple meanings)

When I have been quite, self-reserved, and confident, people have felt the need to project onti and pick away at – and even directly challenge me.

These are some of the reasons that I do not often seek social company.

I shared with an employer once that my hair still had its natural coloring.

He was going through a mid-life crises and desperate to gain an edge over anyone and everybody.

I saw then how he took my simple statement of pride – and in his mind, turned it against me.

It has taken me years to tighten skin up again after my attempt to lose weight by innocent carb starvation.

Therefire, I must be slimming down if they are reappearing.

I will take it as a good sign – rather than despairing.

It is clear now, more than ever, that I am the master of my own fashioning.