Sometimes, OK, a lot of times, I feel bad that I don’t hang around my friends so much. James even told me I should reach out to them, I guess he thinks I’m depressed. Today I keep thinking of how it sucks to not be invited to Halloween, just like last year and this year. One of my friends had ghosted me after my nephew died, that’s why I wasn’t invited last year. I guess, because my nephew died I didn’t get invited this year, too. Well, anyway, the truth is I was glad I was at home. James is too old for Halloween and I just am tired of doing the same shit. I felt like my dad, though, because our new Ring doorbell went off and I hid from the Trick-or-Treaters. LOL. I feel bad for Carlos because he used to love Halloween and I feel like I dragged him down to doing nothing. But he did have an Xray last night, or else he would have made me go to the party I wasn’t invited to, even though I wasn’t invited.

It’s time to stop hiding from the truth. No worries. This is for the best. Changes are coming, I can feel them. I think. Or maybe more of the same. I don’t know.

I’ve been a good friend. I’m not someone who calls anyone. That’s how I’ve been a bad friend. I’ll tell you what, though. When the situation was reversed, I RAN to be with my friend and didn’t leave her side until it was over. I’ve been there for her, she’s dropped me at the most important times in my life, more than once. When I needed her. It’s not her fault, she doesn’t deal with things very well. Just, I’m saying I’m a good friend. Even if I don’t know how to be the friend who calls you every day.

So.

Just, if you read this and you see her, I don’t care if you tell her. I’m too chicken to call her out. That’s bad on me. My bad. My bad.

I’m going to try to write more. Even if this bullshit is the only thing I can think of to write about.

Also, I believe in God. I don’t care if anyone thinks it isn’t cool because they’re Atheists.

This is a beautiful world. We can’t get out to dig for crystals in November because my husband, Carlos, is having surgery on his knee Nov. 8. It’s funny, I can’t be there to take care of him because one of us has to be at work. Since we work together, you know. James is pretty good at taking care of people. He drives me to my back appointments where they put me under and I wake up all doped up so he has to drive me home.

That’s another thing. James’ dad just moved to Florida. At his graduation, I walked by him in the bleachers and he says, “yay, no more parents”. I’m like, WTF was that? Well, he figures his duty is done and he went off with his wife to Florida. I’m positive he will be happy there with all the retirees there. He’ll probably drive them crazy. I just don’t get why he would leave James like that. I’m the opposite. I told James if something happens to Carlos I’m going to move in with him. I told him he should probably have a mom’s suite in the back yard, just in case. I don’t want to actually LIVE with him, but I want to live next door. Or at least in the same region.

Also, I’ve claimed that I don’t get fanatical about anything. To my family, because they geek out at stuff and I always was like, “I’m so cool” and all that. Well, I am geeked out by Blue October, but there are other things. I LOVE listening to Alex Jones most of the time. Sometimes he scares the shit out of me because of his “we’re going to die” rhetoric and I have to give it a break. I kind of care what other people think about me because I listen to him, so I don’t say much about it. I’ve been listening to him for a LONG time, though. Over 10 years for sure. I’m of the opinion it doesn’t make me a MAGA person. Even though I did vote for Donald Trump this time.

What have I become??? AHHHH…

Just kidding. I’m just like many other people who get more conservative as they get older. Plus, now we have this Pedophile President now. It just amazes me people voted for him.. but alas, here we are.

I love Milo’s Unsweet Tea more than any human should. I bring a gallon when we go visit family. Now they already have a gallon or two when I show up. My sister and my sister-in-law both do that. They’re so awesome. Starbucks is another thing, I HAVE to stop by there or else I don’t feel right. It is more of a habit, really.

Now that I’m older, I buy one thing and if I like it, I will buy like 10 more in the same or different colors. Last year I bought like at least 10 flannels. 3 from LL Bean. Then, this summer, I bought like 5 pairs of the same black pants from Land’s End. The owner of the company I work for wants us to wear shirts with the company logo on them. I picked out my 12 from Duluth Trading Co, they make really good shirts. This winter, I am buying all these pants from Columbia. I found a great pair of “leggings” I got for digging for crystals and they’re really comfy.

So. You likely think I’m crazy and I’m here to tell you, I’m crazy. If I’m going to write every day, things are going to be a bit crazy, I’m just sayin. But I’ll make that commitment. If anyone actually gets to the end of this, hello 🙂 I am pretty happy for a human being these days. 🙂

Wow, I turned 47 years today. 47 trips around the sun on this ole Earth. My body may be 47, it feels like it is anyway, but my mind feels like a child still sometimes. Like the times when I get my feelings hurt.

I HATE those words. The reason I don’t like telling people how I feel if they have hurt me is that I don’t want them to tell me “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings”, like I’m a little child. Although me not telling people when they hurt my feelings is exactly like a child and not an adult thing to do. Not at all.

Sometimes I feel like I revert back to my childhood. This boy said, “Niecy don’t cry” when I was in third grade and my cat had got run over. I’ve always been an emotional person. No matter how “tough” I tried to be. It was especially hard when I was in elementary school, but I got a little better dealing with my emotions as I matured.

Now I SAY this, and I shouldn’t act as if it were true, because the emotions I feel come out of me in ways I don’t like. Mostly by doing something to harm myself. Not a single action. It’s more like, I’m going to go eat like 5 cookies because I’m seething mad at something someone did at work type thing.

So when I post lyrics on Facebook, it is usually to express some sort of feeling I’m having, and often times a rather immature feeling I’m having that I don’t want to be having. Just today in therapy she said, “Why can’t we just allow ourselves to FEEL the emotion and not judge ourselves for feeling bad about something?” Like, I didn’t say, “Because I don’t WANT to feel that way about (insert person) so I try not to feel that way and it just becomes something else then I feel bad for lashing out like a baby”. That’s what I should have said.

Therapy is an awkward thing, isn’t it? You go in there and you just get to talking then “times up!” and you’re just there like, well, we were like knee deep in talking about my Dad and now I’m just getting in the car to go back to work like normal.

Anyway, this Blue October song, Light You UP, I posted the other night like a FUCK YOU because I was feeling hurt. Yes, I was feeling like a little baby. The anger was at myself, though, the song says he is saying this to the part of him inside that doesn’t know how to explain how he feels so he’s like FUCK YOU! You hurt me so I’m lighting you up!

Another thing I relate to that song about is that when I get mad or hurt by someone, I want to “light them up” as if I’m going to burn all my bridges down, because I’m feeling vulnerable and I’m tired of hurting in silence.

Then I act out. That’s my disease, the very essence and core of it right there.

I can’t explain the way I feel inside (I’m too afraid), but you hurt me, so I’m lighting you up! (as if I’m never going to see anyone ever ever again)…..

That’s the little girl who lives inside of me who IS tired of being hurt. It’s true. Except I’m the one who hurts me because I don’t do what mature people do and TELL people when they do something or I think they did something to hurt my feelings.

Then it gets all weird and i just hide away, another part of that song. “You can’t admit you’re poison, go run and hide! FUCK YOU!” (he’s talking to himself on the inside) That feels like me, I’m the poison, I run and hide.

Well, that’s why I love music so much, it brings it out of me.

I’m just a jumble of feelings and sometimes I don’t even know what to say to describe it a lot of times.

What I’ve come here to talk about are those feelings I can’t explain and try to explain them the only way I know how, through music lyrics.

Sometimes I’ll be sitting next to Carlos on the couch and I’ll put my airpods in and start listening to music and all the sudden I’m crying.

Let me tell you a story about when I was in rehab as an example. In November of 2015 I went to rehab. In rehab there are these classes you go to during the day for therapy. One of the classes was music therapy. The therapist told us all to sit on the couches and chairs and close our eyes. Then Whisky Lullaby comes out of the blue tooth speaker:

“She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short, but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby”

Those words really hit home for me.

My dad was in the nursing home for 4 years before his body gave out on him. The truth is, he gave up on life. Everything he loved was gone, I guess. He couldn’t work anymore, his hands wouldn’t work to play his guitar. He stopped eating. He ran me off when I tried to take care of him. He wanted his girlfriend to do it. She did, put him in the nursing home. As much as I pleaded, he would not go home. He would not come to McKinney with me. He just wanted to stay there in Hondo and be left alone.

The amount of grief I went through those 4 years was so bad. We were really close. He was my hero and when he gave up on life like that, it devastated me. He fell down hard from the pedestal I put him on in my mind. We had our down times, we fought about money a lot. He’d give me some, I would spend it all, then he would get mad, then get over it, then give me more money, then get mad and over and over and over. And I was a full grown adult with a kid. My guilt was heavy. Really really heavy.

When he died, I refused to grieve any longer. After everything, I felt angry at him for giving up. So angry for not wanting to live for me or my brother or James. We weren’t enough for him to try for. I didn’t want to feel that way anymore. So I pushed it down. Except the nights I would get messed up, though, there it came back out. Late at night I would sit in the living room playing the slide show I made for his service over and over and over on my laptop. Or I would go out in the garage and look at all the pictures I brought back from the home I grew up in. The one he let his girlfriend sell and didn’t care one bit about how it would affect my brother or me.

Sitting on that chair and hearing those words, I realized what I was doing. My grief was not going anywhere, I wasn’t getting over it. It managed to push its through when it had the chance because I wouldn’t allow myself to feel it when I was sober. It was also causing me to act out and hurt myself with bad behaviors. If I kept on like I was, I was going to lose everything I loved. My husband, my son, maybe even my life. I had already lost so much. My car, my camera, my self respect..

That song helped bring out what I was really feeling so I could get over it. I didn’t want to kill myself mourning for the loss of my dad. Or anyone. This lady in the class had the same reaction, as she was also mad at her dad. We hugged, complete strangers hugging it out in rehab.

I’m grateful for that. For my friends who helped me get into rehab. My family who supported me while I was there and every day since then. I’m so lucky.

This morning I actually had a thought of something I have learned that may actually help someone out there. Many of us humans struggle with this and it is probably one of the hardest things a human can do. It’s finding the courage to allow ourselves to feel our feelings, no matter what they are, no matter how bad it hurts.

Ever since I was a little girl I have tried to run from my feelings. I’m sensitive and I got picked on a lot for that. Then, once my parents divorced when I was in the 3rd grade, making my way through my childhood without much guidance made everything harder. Major life events, like starting my period, were blown out of proportion because I had only myself to guide me. When that happened, I was in gym class and the coach made such a crass comment when I didn’t know what was happening to me, everyone knew what happened. It was embarrassing.

Eventually, things got to the point where I was just stuffing those bad feelings away. Year after year. Mistake after mistake. Until finally I could hardly feel at all, unless it was pain. I mean, I wasn’t walking around all sad, I was having a lot of fun times. I guess it was easier to go have fun all the time than face my feelings packed away.

Until one night, I was like 25 or so. Laying on the floor of some guy’s apartment. His wife he had separated from had come by and they were talking in the bedroom. He and I had been shacking up, sort of. More like he was using me for a place to stay. As I lay there in the silence, I thought of the things that floated around my head and really judged them. There was a judge, that was me, and the thoughts would come by and I would either dismiss or keep. For a while this went on, until I finally got down to it. What the FUCK was I doing laying there like some second class slut. So I got up and got in my truck and from my mouth came a gush of pain. Crying, beating the steering wheel. Years of pain just washed out of me. Then I went home and never went back over there again.

After that I started writing a lot. Writing and writing and writing. Finally I felt a little peace. I thought it was done, I was like enlightened or something. It felt really great and I was relieved.

Alas, it isn’t that easy. Because I still kept running away from my bad feelings and packing more in to boot. Only until it came to a head and I ended up in rehab 7 years ago did I really start to unpack my garbage.

After I got out of rehab almost 7 years ago, I had nightmares for weeks. I’d start screaming out in my sleep. It would wake Carlos up and he’d just pat me and roll over. I’m sitting there, panting and terrified. Afraid to go back to sleep. Eventually, the nightmares stopped through my therapy during Intensive Outpatient (after inpatient rehab). Once I figured out the reason for the nightmare, they would go away.

But, you guessed it, that wasn’t even the end.

A few months ago, Carlos tripped a huge trigger that sent me into a rage so bad, I was beating the door. My hand was bruised pretty bad. My husband did not deserve the horrible insults I hurled through that door at him. Then, once I realized how out of control I was, I went into a really bad panic attack. I made my way out to the front living room and sat on the couch trying to calm myself. Then James got home and he is just standing there looking at me because he didn’t want to leave me alone, but he wanted to go put his stuff down. Then Carlos gets out of the shower and tells James to go ahead and go to his room. He’s like, “do you still want to sleep in the guest bedroom” and I shake my head, no. He and James gathered all my stuff I had angrily dropped off in the guest room because I had intended to sleep there and, basically, put me to bed.

That’s what they do, they take care of me when I can’t take care of myself. It isn’t something I love, having to be taken care of. This is just the state of my life sometimes with the disorder I have.

After that awful rage I had to trace the trigger. That was the worst rage I have ever had and I needed to know why so I wouldn’t do that again. 22 years ago, I broke up with this dude and he turned his feelings off like a spigot. One day he loved me, the next he didn’t. For almost a year I wandered around heartbroken trying to do enough drugs to make me stop feeling the pain. It hurt so bad, I wanted to accidentally die but it not be a suicide.

He was trying to wind down from the day, it was already 11 o’clock and I went out there wanting to talk. He told me he couldn’t listen anymore because he was tired. What I heard Carlos say, “we’ll, he’s not in this room” when I told him, crying, that I had no one to talk to because he wasn’t listening to me. (he says he didn’t say that, but that’s what I remember) When those words came out of his mouth, it was KABLAM, 1999 all over again. It set me off big time, spewing all the anger and hurt towards the wrong guy because I felt rejected and was afraid of being abandoned. (which Carlos wouldn’t do because he is a stubborn mofo, and dug his heels in when I tried to run him off.. and he loves me, too)

Even after all these years, and all the garbage I never allowed myself to heal from, I’m still finding more shit in there.

May 10, 2021, one of my greatest fears came true when we lost our Cody, my nephew, who I loved so very much. He was born my senior year of high school. I helped take care of him and my niece Chelsea a lot. And I love them as much as my own son. I especially hurt for my sister, who is my personal super hero, lost her baby boy. That hurt a lot because I love her so much. Anyway, before I get too sad again, I just want to say that through this horrible pain, I have allowed myself to grieve and haven’t tried to push it away. Except for the drive to Wimberley right after it happened, when I was trying to get to my sister. For that, heavy metal played really loud helped. (just a tip if you ever need it)

The difference I have found, as time has gone on, I allowed myself to grieve and feel all the pain because I knew I had to. When I think of him, it still makes me mad at the universe that he had to go so soon, but I am not traumatized by it. I’m healing from it. That makes me happy because I know Cody wouldn’t want me to hurt like that.

This turned into another long post, jeez I talk a lot. Well, time to put on Alex Jones and go to sleep. It’s 11:30 and I gotta work in the morning. Hope maybe this helps someone out there if I ever get the courage to tell people I am actually writing stuff in my blog.

Peace out, my dudes.

All my life
Been running from a pain in me
A feeling I don’t understand
holding me down

So rain on me
Underwater
All I am, getting Harder
A heavy weight
I carry around.

Today.
I don’t have to fall apart.
I don’t have to be afraid.
I don’t have to let the damage consume me
Or my shadow see through me ’cause

Fear, in itself
Will reel you in
and spit you out
over and over again
Believe in yourself
and you will walk

Now, fear, in itself
Will use you up and break you down
Like you were never enough
Yeah, I used to fall
Now I get back up

I’m up here
I’m looking at the way down there
and I’m staring through the I don’t care
and it’s staring back at me

The beauty is
I’m learning how to face my beast
Starting now to find some peace
and set myself free

Today
I don’t have to fall apart
I don’t have to be afriad
I don’t have to let the damage consume me
and my shadow see through me cuz

Fear, in itself
will reel you in
and spit you out over and over again
Believe in yourself
and you will walk

Fear, in itself
Will use you up
and break you down
Like you were never enough
I used to fall
now I get back up

I’m moving on
Oh, GOD just move on!

Today
I don’t have to fall apart
and I don’t have to be afraid

GET BACK UP! GET UP! GET UPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fear, fear, ohh no no no

now fear, fear in itself

can use you up

and it breaks you down

like you’re never enough

yeah, i used to fall…….

breathe.
ask for more.
If you’re bitter, still
Ask Him to help you carry on

Blue October – Justin Furstenfeld

If you wake up many mornings with that knot in your stomach, drag yourself to the shower, put this song on full blast and GET BACK UP. Even if you have to grit your teeth and push through the fog and the fear and pain, just GET BACK UP.

One day at a time, my dudes. 🙂

My first introduction to clandestine operations in government came by way of a Vietnam vet in like 1994. For the life of me, I can’t remember much about the dude. What I do remember, is he told me there were things in the government that happened in secret. Like, I’m maybe 20 years old at this time. I’m really into secret stuff, so I payed attention, even though back then I was not interested in much beyond where the next party was. This made an impression on me, and I filed it away in my folder of interesting and odd things in my brain.

Then 9/11 happened. Of course, it is the collective trauma of my generation. It was the first time in my life something happened I had never considered could happen to us, in real life. I was 25 years old. The only news story I had really followed up to that date was the Monica Lewinsky and Bill Clinton thing. Silly me, I loved that doofus Bill Clinton. What an innocent little girl I was.

After I had James, then his dad and I split up, most of my party life lay behind me in piles of rubble. It actually gave me more time to read and watch YouTube, you know, things other than drinking. In my adult life I’ve leaned toward non-fiction books about politics and such. I was drawn to books about clandestine operations, the NSA, the CIA, etc. After we entered Iraq after 9/11, my once admiration of George W. Bush (I thought he was a good governor of Texas), turned to distrust and scorn. Also, I became interested in the JFK assassination. There are so many books and movies about that subject, you can spend a lifetime researching that subject.

One Sunday afternoon around that time, I was driving back up to DFW from San Antonio. Bored with what I already had listened through (these were the days of the CD), I started shuffling through the AM radio stations. Low and behold, I caught The Alex Jones show. Way back before he was the word’s favorite villain. When I got home, I looked him up and started downloading his podcasts to my iPod to listen to while I was working. Eventually, I got an iPhone and was able to GCN live. I mean, say what you will, call me a weirdo or a conspiracy theorist, he was a hoot. He really was funny back then. He’s really intelligent and says the most outrageous things. This was all back before his head got so big. I mean, his ego has always been large. He did actually do some good work around Austin. This was also back when his most famous friend was Charlie Sheen.

Yes, I was listening live when he interviewed Charlie Sheen and it went south. It is one of my favorite interviews of all time. There I was, at work, when Charlie Sheen was spewing all this stuff about “tiger blood” and said the best quote, “I’m not bi-polar, I’m bi-winning” in his grizzly voice. I was sitting there, mouth agape. That’s about 2011 or so. I remember I almost wore my friend out quoting Charlie Sheen. I told 6 year old James once, “I’m not addicted to Charlie Sheen. I cured it. With my mind”, which was a rip off of one of his quotes. Har har.

I know Alex Jones has always been a sensationalist. One day back then, I was listening to him interview Ron Paul. He asked Ron Paul if he thought the TSA Scanners were an invasion on your personal space and body and Ron Paul gave him some non-committal answer, basically yes. Then Alex Jones jumps to, “you heard it here, Ron Paul thinks TSA Scanners rape people” or something like that. That’s what he did. He took something not so extraordinary and blew it up to something inflammatory.

Over the years, even through all of his ego, I really believe he was doing good and he really believed in his cause. One thing I always liked about Alex Jones, though, is he was non-partisan. No matter which party was in office, he was against it. I mean, he knew Obama was bullshit. Not me, I voted for Obama. It was only when he revealed his “Affordable Healthcare Act” that I realized that hope and change he was peddling was just more bullshit. That, and all the drone strikes. Hope and Change bullcorn.

Don’t think I didn’t vet him, either. I’m not a trusting person. Back then there was not much negative to find about him, actually. He was legit, I think. The only thing I found was former employee that alleged him of being a jerk. Which, I mean, shocker, right? (that was sarcasm) Honestly, though, if you can weed through his boasting and bragging, he is actually super intelligent. He knows a lot history. He’s almost savant like that.

By now I’m sure people have either clicked away or are reading indignantly. Just know, I’m a reasonable, intelligent person, who has been listening to him for a long time. So, instead of blowing the whole thing out because it involves Alex Jones, maybe trust that I have a legit opinion and valid questions about the whole thing, not just hating him because he’s him.

Over the years I have listened to him, I’ve gone in and out, really, especially when I stopped working at Transamerica. His show is a whole lot of negative chi to digest. He’s like on all the time, too. Except the moments he jokes around. He’s like a machine gun, spewing with all these facts. I’m guessing he does that because he figures he can get the most information in before the person he is talking to interrupts with inane interview questions. He did this to Pierce Morgan and The View when he was on those shows. Which, its just him. If you think about it, he’s hella successful in his approach, though it is off-putting to a lot of people. He’s like a maniac, but its the way he gets attention. Remember, any attention is good attention to some people.

As years went on, even though I wasn’t a daily listener anymore, If something happened in the world at least I knew Alex Jones would be covering it, even if the mainstream media wasn’t. You’re not going to get the stonewashed version of news here. You will, though, get the alarmist version. Somewhere in between, if you have the ability to discern and sift through the information you can often times get a clearer version of what is going on. This is something I value from his show. There are others, but his show is usually on repeat even if it isn’t live.

What first threw me off, though, is when he jumped on the Trump bandwagon. Why Alex Jones, who hasn’t ever supported a president and, in fact, has preached how presidents are “puppets of the globalists”, supported Trump during his campaign and presidency is interesting to me. I’ve been wondering for years if he knew something I couldn’t find on my own about Donald Trump. To me, if what he had been saying for years was correct, Trump couldn’t have been elected unless the “globalists” supported him. I still suspect Trump was put in for a reason, if only to show that, indeed, Americans are stupid enough to elect him. I mean, we elected a brain dead dumb ass after that, too. I’m sure the next president will be a pile of goo, if we get to elect a president at all, that is. What I’m trying to say, is they’re pushing the public to see how far they can take us. We’ve been one big petri dish for subjugation practice, even through COVID and now with the way they’re raiding the president and people are calling for him to be hanged without even seeing any evidence. This is all crazy as hell. It doesn’t matter if you like him or not, you can’t just sit there and say that 1. cancelling a sitting president of the most “powerful” country in the world and 2. raiding his home and 3. calling for his head is not crazy and unstable and scary.

Anyway, now that Alex Jones has gone through that trial, it seems he’s more popular than ever. Which is whatever. What most people don’t remember or don’t know because they probably weren’t following alternative media back then, is just how many people were propagating the idea it was a hoax to begin with. Alex Jones covered it a tiny bit of the total amount of time people spent researching, debating, even writing books about whether or not Sandy Hook was a false flag. This trial is a sham trial. Just everything seems like a sham now a days. Why didn’t they air the Ghislaine Maxwell trial, but they aired every second of the Alex Jones trial?

Usually I listen to Alex Jones on the way home from work (for about 20 minutes) and when I go to sleep (for like 5 minutes). It’s really weird, but listening to him makes me go to sleep. Some nights, though, I’m just tied in knots because most of what he is saying is, pretty much, we’re all going to be eating insects, poisoned by the vaccines and dead within 10 years. BUT, there is still a chance if we keep sharing the information. Share his website, share his articles. Buy his products. Listen to his show.

Then what?

You know what I have always thought was missing from his show and shows of others is real solutions. Alex Jones says he is in an infowar. Merely having this information is going to change the world, how? Action has to be taken, plans have to be made. Not that I’m making any plans, because I’m not. People generally don’t listen to me, I could never be a good cult leader. Trust me.

He likes to say, “I’m at the tip of the spear”, and he has been in many in person events over the years. Like it or not, he was at the “insurrection” of Jan 6, although he was actually trying to get people not to go inside the capitol building, which is caught on video. Also, he hangs out with Roger Stone, himself a kind of shady character from the Nixon days, resurrected by the Trump campaign. He also says they’re censored all the time so they keep making new domain names, but Infowars.com has been around for a long time. I’ve not seen it come down at all. Also, the guest hosts are hosting more than he does. They don’t lull me to sleep. I don’t like it. (heh)

Okay, now I’m just complaining. So I’ll get to my point.

The other nights I’m listening to his show and the more he goes on about the doom we’re spiraling towards, the more my stomach turns into knots. Its not even funny anymore. I’m convinced life is nothing but a stage, media is a tool being used to drive us crazy. As hard as I try, I’m in my phone too much. Its driving me crazy and I’m spending way too much time in my head. Facebook is cool to watch other people’s kids and stuff. I like keeping up with people. I see friends doing things without me and it makes me feel bad. Then twitter is just idiots arguing. That’s all. Maybe some news gets through, but I trust that’s pretty much been censored by now. YouTube is censored and boring as hell. Bitchute has all these startup podcasts that are way too “dude-bro” for me.

Then the way radical people that have gone crazy, just crazy.

Its billions of voices competing to be heard.

You know what? When you unplug from that shit, life is a lot better. When I’m at the grocery store, everyone is just normally shopping and going about their day. Online, people are looting the grocery stores. In real life, I talk to people and no one has asked me for my pronoun. (not that there is anything wrong with it at all) Online, there are endless people demanding their pronouns be used or else they throw a fit. Online all the people are at the beach swimming in clear waters. In real life I’m staring at a computer all day sitting at a desk, living in a concrete desert, where everything is manicured to death to where everything looks the same. Online people are enjoying their pretty alcohol drinks. In real life, I can’t drink or I will lose everything I love.

So maybe Alex Jones has been compromised. Maybe not. Who knows. This is all obviously speculation on my part. If anything, it proves that even Alex Jones is not beyond suspicion in my mind, which is healthy.

If you made it this far and seek someone to give you an insight to what’s really going on without all the fear porn, may I suggest:

http://www.corbettreport.com (james corbett is the only alt media person I donate to and he is SUPER DUPER HELLA smart and my favorite, reliable, and sane source for history and news)

and

https://grandtheftworld.com/ (the podcasts are 6 hours long, but Richard Grove is another SUPER DUPER HELLA smart person.

and check out Jason Bermas and Luke Rudowski, both significant 9/11 truthers and great for info as well.

A while back I wrote this poem, then I folded it and tucked it neatly and placed it in my bag. I’ve been carrying it around since then. It’s a horrible testament to the dark place my head has been for months now. This is my confession, of sorts. An attempt to shine light on the darkness by confessing it exists. I don’t often write poetry anymore since fucking Facebook came into my life, but sometimes it just comes out. I’m guessing this is the me who tucks myself into myself because of my social anxiety. No offense to my friends, at all. I’m sorry for my bad thoughts. When I go somewhere with my friends, I have to push that anxiety down. The anxiety that says, “they don’t want you around anymore”. In my rational head, that’s my fault because I don’t reach out to people. In my head, its torturous.

So, here is the poem:

Hiding Deep Inside by Myself

Hello, from the depths I have plunged myself to
Protect myself from
People like you
and all of my friends

She’s scarred and She’s
Withered
Don’t look at her
She’d rather hide away
But no choice, never a choice

SHE doesn’t have a choice

He asked, “why weren’t you there?” (withered hag)

Say. Why wasn’t I there?

WHY WASN’T I THERE?

That’s the question, isn’t it.

From the inside where
I sit watching
this party She’s participating in
and here I am, safe inside

Like sitting in the middle of a bunch of pillows, I AM SAFE

But SHE noticed. She noticed and didn’t say anything.

INDEED, WHERE WERE YOU DENISE?

WHERE?

who fucking cares?

——————————

My thought, long ago, was to contest everything society accepts as “normal” with my words. I’m sure it meant something totally different when I started this blog than it does now. I’m not the same person I was before COVID. My thinking has changed. A lot. Before COVID, I was more optimistic about the world and the people in it.

Everything a person is judged by seems to come down to which way you lean politically these days. Usually, I do not like to pin myself down by subscribing to one belief, but if I would classify myself it would likely be more Libertarian than anything. My attitude is, live and let live. If you don’t hurt other people, do what you want.

People are so polarized now. Sometimes it is very hard to have a conversation about something without getting blow back in your face about how offensive it is or how wrong you are. The key word in the zeitgeist for this is “nuanced”. Nuance is the reason some people can’t pin Joe Rogan down as a conservative or a liberal. On his show, he converses with people in a 3 hour window, really debating and discussing subjects with his guests. They’re not shouting at each other. His show is a great example of civilized debate. People hunger for this now. That’s why Joe Rogan is so popular.

Real news is rare in the mainstream today. Our staple “Dinosaur Media” would mostly be considered editorial, and all opinion. Really, most of it propaganda. If you want to find out what is going on in the world, don’t look to our news establishments. You have to go to Al Jazeera or RT or even the BBC to get any news outside of the US anymore.

What has emerged, though, is exciting. Alternative News excites me because it gives the ordinary person a voice. I think it aggravates the Intelligencia and all of the wanna be intellectuals out there. For some reason, some of these people believe one has to have a degree or be stamped with approval by the government to even have an opinion on something. It is a totally desperate need for “authorities” to validate anything before they’ll even consider it. It is very odd.

That’s a major part of the problem we’re having right now as a society. The people who fancy themselves an intellectual like to look down from their thrones upon everyone else. If you try to have a debate with these particular people they will either automatically insult you, or try to debate you, realize they’re failing, and call you a trumptard or something like that. Its insane, and it was happening online even before COVID. You just can’t have a real debate about anything with them.

It makes me really sad. If we can’t learn to have a conversation without raging against one another, we are going to lose everything our forefathers fought for. This country depends on Freedom of Speech. That’s why it is the First Amendment. It is that important. If we lose this, we’re done. I’m fearful we lose more and more of it everyday. Perhaps we have just become too reliant upon the internet. Eventually we may have to just go back to mailing out newsletters or handing them out. Who knows.

My intent with contesting normal is to try to write blog posts that are timely and relevant. I want to contest normal, especially the “new normal” crazy world this is becoming. I would also like to share my journey through this world as I navigate the sometimes choppy waters of my life. Having PTSD makes things harder, but I wouldn’t count me out. You never know, there could be someone out there who needs to know that they’re not alone in their struggles. The good news is, I’ve come a long way in the last year and I feel better than I have in a long time. I’m ready to do this for real!

Onward and upward!

This past spring I went for testing with a neuropsychologist because we were worried about residual symptoms that stuck around after my psychosis, such as fumbling over words, using the wrong words, and memory loss. After interviews and extensive diagnosis, she came to the conclusion that I don’t have ADHD or Bi-Polar, but Chronic PTSD. She explained to me that as I have been navigating through life, experiences have piled on top of the things I never addressed with therapy. Basically my psyche formed little defense mechanisms that were intended to protect me from perceived danger. According to her, what looks like ADHD, which was what her first diagnosis would have been if not for the trauma, is not. It is Chronic PTSD. It kind of surprised me, because I don’t have flashbacks or anything like that. I’ve been through therapy in rehab, outpatient and in the hospital. I’m still skeptical, but willing to accept it.

Since I got that diagnosis, I’ve been trying to figure it out on my own, so I can deal with it faster than I could get a therapy appointment. This is pretty much how I have been healing over the last 20 years or so. There are things that are so deep and hurtful I do not like to get trapped in the thinking about them. They’ve been locked up in the no-no zone in my head. These things I pushed away from me, I refused to think about them. After I moved back to Hondo in 8th grade, I can remember laying on the couch at my dad’s house trying to sleep. Thoughts would enter my head and I would imagine pushing them down out of my body. After a while, I forgot a lot of what happened. To this day, I find it hard to remember a lot of detail about that time in my life.

Those events locked in me, I believe, are the last hurdle I need to climb over in order to free myself. Even though I’m nervous about it, I am also hopeful. My therapy appointment is next week. They didn’t have an opening for two months, so I have been patiently waiting. I’m hoping through seeing a trauma specialist they will be able to train my brain to stop doing the bad behavior that has been keeping me from living the life I know I should be living.

This blog post was going to be about how it is bad to look back on the past. When I do, I get stuck there sometimes. Even the good times. Then I wrote, and revised, and revised and came to a whole other conclusion. It is essential to look back into the past sometimes. The trick is not getting stuck back there, though.

The reason I started this blog post the other day was to show how looking back into the past can be a bad thing. The other day I found the band we used to follow around had uploaded their album to Spotify. This is music that was so important to me back when I was like 20-22. When I put the music on, it made tears come to my eyes, I was so happy. I’m sentimental like that. To me, songs can be like friends. When I play them, its as if I’m spending time with an old friend. I’m an over emotional person, lots of things make me cry. When I heard the first song, I was taken back to the time I loved that album. It was very special to me and I listened to it a lot back then. We used to go around with the band when they played around town. There’s a whole story to that, but just say we were friends with them.

After I listened to the album, the rest of the day I was in melancholy. As usual, I wasn’t sure why I was feeling bad. I even wrote “guilt” on a post-it note and hung it on my little cork board. It helps to name the feeling I’m having so I can figure out why. When I finally realized why I felt guilty, it sort of made me indignant. The reason is, I started to look at other people’s Instagram and compared myself to other people I used to know. Over the years of me acting crazy and drink and drugging, I was sort of left behind. That group of friends still keep in touch. Most of them don’t talk to me anymore.

This blog post started out way different than it ended up. After I started telling my story, I realized all the things in my life I have and how thankful I am for everyone in my life now. How things play out the way they were meant to. It made me change my mind about it being so horrible to look into the past. Now, I realize, it can be quite helpful. The trick is not to let yourself get stuck back there. Carl Jung calls it working with your Shadow Self.

I’m like the phoenix. Throughout my life I’ve created messes with my messed up mind. I’ve destroyed a lot of situations in my life. There has been a series of burning it all down then clawing myself back out of the hole, only to rise again as a beautiful bird – like a phoenix. Every single time I was knocked down, I got back up. Considering all the things I lived through and overcame actually made me realize I’m a lot stronger than I think.

My life has been pretty great, even though it has been harder because of my neuroses. Even though things were rough sometimes, there has also been even more great times. I’ve found that is the way life is. Good and bad, yin and yang.

We can’t escape suffering in this life. We all can, though, learn how to deal with it. We’ll see how it goes. I’m going to keep writing about my struggle with mental illness because it helps other people. It isn’t easy to talk about because some people will think I’m crazy. Well, let me tell you, I have been in a psych hospital and I will say, there are a lot of people out in the world who think they are normal and are actually crazy as a loon but completely normal in their own head. At least everyone in the psych ward knows they’re crazy and are able to admit it and make changes for the better.

It’s not the biggest secret. Since I fell into temporary psychosis in 2020, I think I have been at least partially open to the fact that I have a mental disorder. Not to get in too deep with this post, because I just feel like I need to share this today, I want to tell you a little about what happened to me.

In March of 2020 I got a new job with a software company as a quality assurance person. So, I thought, I am good with software. It is an insurance related software, bonus there because I have a lot of experience with insurance. Day 3 of my employment with this company and we were all sent home because of COVID. Over the next few months, I tried to do what was asked of me. Basically, I had to change one thing on a form to see if it made a mistake or it did what it was supposed to. Then, if I found a mistake, I would send it on to the programmers. Lots of states, lots of different insurance companies. It isn’t that I didn’t TRY, but I have ADHD. This was the worst possible job for someone with ADHD. It was super boring. There were so many distractions having James home with me and Jaxx and Sookie wanted to go outside every hour or so.

The masks were freaking me out. I’m a very visual, symbolic person so the sight of all these people in masks was like watching a bunch of people with someone’s hand over their mouths. How many times I sat in the Market Street parking lot, watching for how many people were wearing them and how many weren’t. Then they became mandatory. My libertarian self told me this was not right, it isn’t constitutional. Every day I would park there and watch people coming in and out of the store. Wearing a mask made me feel like panicking, felt hot, felt awful to me. Say what you will about my desire to keep people safe, I wore the masks, ok? Just loathed every second I was forced to wear one.

James was studying for his drivers license test. My dad was a DPS Trooper who did drivers license for most of my childhood. My hero worship of my dad made me want to learn everything I could learn about driving. He had stacks of those drivers ed books and I loved reading them. My dad passed away in 2013. Teaching my son how to drive was deeply connected to this mission. We studying and helped him so much in the week leading up to his test. I got to take him, we were so excited. My focus was great, we were going to pass this test. We turned on some good music to pump him up on the way. We studied in the car waiting for us to go inside.

Let me tell you, the poor boy had to take his test wearing a mask and gloves.

So focused was I, I even positioned myself right where James could see me but I turned around so he wouldn’t be nervous that I was watching him parallel park. He was most concerned about that. He passed, and we walked back inside the office. By now, tears are streaming down my face. The lady was so nice. I told her my dad was in DPS and gave me my drivers license. It was really great, but I couldn’t stop myself from crying. Really, I hadn’t been in DPS since my dad passed away.

So we went to eat at Lupe’s Tortilla Factory in Allen to celebrate. My thoughts were so clear, everything was making sense. I was very pleased how the situation turned out. James and I spent the night watching a cartoon made by Mike Judge, kind of like King of the Hill, but about middle aged parents trying to navigate the world. We also watched a game show, and I told James that I thought they were rigged. So I studied the contests, told him I thought it was all for show. James disagreed with me. It was a good time.

Then James went to bed. By myself, my fears returned. The COVID fears I had, that the government shouldn’t be forcing us to wear masks, it is unconstitutional. At one point, Tucker Carlson was on. He talks very to the point. Slowly, like hypnotic. Pacing around our living room, I just kept trying to figure things out. The Friday before that, I was yelled at by my supervisor for not being as productive as the rest of my team. I had nothing to compare to. I thought I was doing good. Scared of failure, I tried to convince her to just let me have Friday and then we can find out. I was scheduled off for James’ driving test, though.

By the time Carlos woke up, I was sitting on the bed looking at him. I said, “you need to call my sister. It’s happening again. I can’t go to work. Can you please call Mariella and tell her? I need to go to the emergency room”. Carlos didn’t want to deal with this, he had to work. They need him at work, he is very important to the way things run around here. There I was demanding to be taken to the ER. I called my sister and told her, “it’s happening again”. She talked to Carlos and told him he needed to take me in.

James and Carlos took me to the ER at Medical Center of McKinney. We sat there, Carlos and I (James had to go home because only one person could be in there) all day. Poor Carlos. I don’t remember much about what I was saying. Just betting him if I could predict something by the time the clock moved 10 minutes I would run out of there naked. He was so upset, he sat there and cried and held my hand. I think I even told him his brother was with us there, in spirit. He was scared that wherever my head was taking me, I would never return. He was also feeling guilty because he felt like he was abandoning me. As they wheeled me into the ambulance, pulled away from the hospital, I thought I saw Carlos and James there. We made our way to the most dreaded place in my life.

Wysong Hospital.

I had been there before in 2008, the last time I went into psychosis.

So, what I want to say, in all that, is this: Borderline Personality Disorder can run in families. The prognosis for many Borderline patients is not good, lots end up in suicide.

There were four of us: my dad, my brother, me and my other brother. They were not diagnosed bi-polar, that i know. All I do know, is bi-polar runs in families. Of all of us, 3/4 have attempted to take their life at some point. One was successful. Two if you count my dad giving up on life and laying there waiting to die.

If you are reading this, and you are related to me, and struggling with some weird shit right now, I just want you to know, this can happen.

I was at a Game Night this evening with a group of people who are new to us. The women in the group were chatting in the kitchen about things and people I didn’t know yet. This teenaged girl and I were left sitting at the bar of the kitchen talking to each other. On the way home I mused about how uncomfortable teenagers made me in the past. Then I would have been looking for an exit or an adult to rescue me. Since I have a teenager myself now, sometimes it feels more natural than talking to the adults.

She said, “Sometimes when I’m listening to my music on the bus, I just start singing and I don’t care who hears me. It’s so fun,” she said.

I remembered when I was on the bus going to a game with Volleyball and somehow someone got a hold of a tape I had made of myself singing along with Mariah Carey. This mortified me! People actually heard my voice and I was being SUCH A NERD…OMG. Someone just casually said to me, “that’s pretty good”. There I sat, surprised that I wasn’t getting a hard shaming for allowing someone to see me vulnerable.

She said she read at a 12th grade level when she was in elementary school. I said “Me too!” I told her about that book I read, Night of the Twisters, that scared the bejeezus out of me. She talked her “Chronicles of Narnia” and I thought how I should have read that, but I thought I was too cool to read books a lot by the time I was her age.

She said she likes Christian Rock Music and showed me some of her stuff. I said, “I like music, too!” Though I thought Christian Music wasn’t cool when I was her age. The only band I could offer up was Big Daddy Weave, though. She started giggling, “they’re so old!” I laughed

She told me stories about her dog and I told her stories about my dogs. The kids liked the stories I told them about my two mutts and I enjoyed hearing their stories too.

As I was sitting there listening to her, I was impressed how smart she is. Also amazed that I felt like I was looking at myself when I was younger, inside, but way more confident and doing what she should be doing for a girl her age. I thought my time was better spent drinking and having fun with my friends. “She is going to go so far,” I thought. She is really intelligent and well versed in literature, that’s for sure. She is at Game Night with her parents reading C.S. Elliot and I, I was too cool for that.

When I got home I sat here reflecting on our conversation. It was as if I was just sitting there, as a kid myself, just having a conversation with a new friend. We’re just hanging and chatting and being like, “me too!” She is so confident in herself, she is an inspiration.

We sat side by side and she said, “I pick at my fingers and my nails.” I said, “me too!” Though she wasn’t ashamed at all and I have been struggling with that for years. Thinking about that made me cry a bit because it brings me such agony, knowing I am doing it but not being able to stop myself. Knowing there is a girl out there who picks her nails and isn’t ashamed of it makes me feel better about my affliction.

Me too! (It’s important to know you’re not alone)