Demons of men

I don't believe in the devil but I do have demons. Demons like self loathing, low self esteem, zero confidence, depression, and many more.

I've dealt with these demons for years. I was bullied in school and on the school bus (a boy punched me in the nose.) In fact, when retelling this story my MILs partner asked what I did to deserve the punch in the nose, basically condoning the abuse. I was bullied in my family. I'm always been heavy. I got a taste of being thin (for me, I was a size 9) and a boy told me I was still fat. I've always been short. I've not had the life of being lived and admired because I'm thin, tall, and, well, that's all. 

I'm passed over, ignored, and not respected because I'm a chubby and short woman. My MILs partner is a shining example of what an asshole men can be. He's loved by everyone for being a nice guy. That's because he bends over backwards for thin women and all men.

I digress. The point I'm making is that I'm not magazine model worthy and I'm not a Mensa scholar. I'm just a regular person that works like to feel happy.

This brings me back to my demons. I'm not sure how to vanquish my demons. How does one kill the demons that keep the happiness away?

How does one come to grips that their family and married into family are toxic and how to deal with that?

I'm not sure where to begin in my healing. I've had many talks with my husband about this but it falls on deaf ears or he sets up his defence. Either way, I'm left worth no resolve.

I'm quite disgusted by men. At one time I went asking with it. Sex when you didn't want it, accepting their belief I was the bad guy, and accepting the overwhelming loneliness and silence.

Tired of being the bad guy that deserved what I had coming to me just based on the fact I'm a woman and I must have don't something to cause the; abuse, rape, and painful words.

I'm tired of men. I'm so weary. I'm willing to accept my flaws and work through them but most flaws wouldn't exist if it were not for MEN!

Silencer; The Great (NOT) Communicator

In "normal" interactions with humans one person speaks the other person says something back. Back and forth, the natural flow of nature. Ocean waves of human conversation.

Yet, everyday I speak my waves and everyday I stand back waiting...waiting...waiting. No one grabs onto what I'm talking about and ask questions, make statements, respond, nothing. NOTHING.

It's hard to feel connected with people that don't make an effort to be connected to you.

Spiritual endeavors

I was on the road to happiness and was spiritual when my turned super ill and then died. Then I turned into s grief stricken,  angry, Good hating human. I was bitter, lost, sad, and extremely lonely. I went from talking to my every single day, sometimes more to nothing. NOTHING. I grieved alone. I lost my spirituality. I lost my soul. It slipped away with my mother because I wasn't strong enough to hold on to it.

This June will be 3 years since she passed. My birthday week marked the slip in her health. A tedious and painful time that happened in a blink of an eye in slow motion. I did it alone with my emotionally absent father. I was the rock beaten by the seas and I was also the wave that carried the burden of the ship and her crew.

When it was all over and I was alone at night weeping in my bed suffering, from what I now know was Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, I went from sad from the loss to complete  anger in the abandonment from everybody. All the men ran out of my life, ALL. I was angry. I'm still disappointed in them. Mostly because I don't think they get what their lack of actions did to me. They don't get it. Plus, they have no idea how it all happened.  I was angry at all men, even the ones I had not met. I was angry at God, the idea of God, and everything God stood for; I was pissed and I wasn't backing down.

Today I went to church. Not your typical church, mind you. I went to a Unitarian Universalist Church. I still do not believe in the God most people believe in. A loving and living God, in my opinion, wouldn't take someone out of their bodies like that. I do need community. I do need fellowship. I do need women. I've lost all trust in the ability of men to be present, to be available. I was let down mute than once over the 3 years. In my time of need I was passed over. When my husband grandfather died my bitterness returned when he was angry I didn't go to the funeral.

I realized I needed to step out of my lonely box and look for my soul again. I want it back. I'm finding shards along the way and gluing it back together.

I've signed up for a women's mini re-treat. I went to chant. I drug my family to church, even if non-conventional.

I don't trust the traditional religions, dogmas, the belief in this God in a box. I don't trust hierarchy of the patriarch and the status quo. I know now my place is among the sweeter scents of women, the warmth, the love, and the connections that form among sisters.  I know my place is among chanters, dancers, and lively folks. I know my place is among those that accept me for me and I give them mutual respect. Bit by bit I pick those pieces out of the muck, wipe them clean, glue them together, and welcome myself back to this world. And each shard glued together leaves not a scar but a beautiful reflective shimmering light catcher that shoots rainbows and stars into the eyes of all that look upon my radiant beaming soul.

Look out world....I'm back!

Wonder what life is....

Lately I've been exploring myself. What do I want? What do I need? Who am I? Uh? What? Um? Mostly my conversations with myself have been dim witted, dull, lifeless, and unintelligible. I'm going to go back to the middle, the beginning is too far back. The middle was my mom dying. That moment was life changing in the fact that it felt like it took something away from me. What was it that was taken away? Who was I before my mother's last breath? I can tell you what I was doing. I was meditating. I was tap dancing. I was exploring my anger issues with my mom a few months before she died with a life coach. I was very angry with her. I never told her. In fact, I lied to her as I said she was a great mother. She wasn't. She never said sorry. She never admitted wrongness. She lied about her role in arguments with my father and making me out to be horrible  and she was sweet. She was not a nice person beneath her smiles, laughs, and she masked that ugly person very well. At her wake I heard all about her bubbly personality. I know we are not all perfect but it's really hard to respect someone who is not perfect when they act like they are, always. 

So, what  was ripped from me when she died? What was that piece I need to reclaim back into myself? Happiness? Forgiveness? What was stolen or was it given? 

Respect is something I never got from my mother. Never. Jealousy, she was jealous of me like no other person on this planet, perhaps the cosmos. She was angry. She broken. My mother was broken but would never admit even to herself she was to blame. She always, always, set that blame out into everyone else. She blamed me, her aunt, my dad, other people. Whatever it was, it was someone else's fault. Being one of the people she blamed angered me. I was blamed for her smoking, it was my fault she couldn't quit. I was blamed for her anger. I was blamed, period. 

I need to forgive my mother. I'm having difficulty doing that. I look at things she purchased and it sits in my home and I'm angry. I'm angry I never got to tell her she was a mean and spiteful person that needed therapy more than anyone else I know on the planet. I wanted to tell her she needed to grow up. She needed to stop being jealous of me and my life. She should take control of herself and not let chaos ensue. I wanted to shake her and scream in her face like she did me but say these words, "To get respect you need to give it, bitch." 

Now, I know stooping to her level would not solve anything. It would only anger her more because it would be my fault, again. You see, I think death was a blessing. I needed peace. She needed out. We both got what we needed. I do feel sad I don't have a mother. The last few years of her life she was trying to atone for her shithead ways without admitting to it. Our relationship did get better but she was still the same old person that never got help. The same person that would snap her fingers and by damn you better jump! She was still the same person that found more pleasure in being out of touch but numb. She was the same yelling, screeching, bossy nutcase that I hated with a passion and loved just as much. 

So what did she take with her when she departed? She took me. She took the person that coward in her presence. She took the little girl with no voice. The person that's feared her most. She sucked that person right out. What she left behind was a person that didn't have a clue how to react, behave, and how to get along in this world without my unstable rock. 

I was given a gift and a curse. I was left without saying my truth and left knowing it doesn't matter now. It's a surreal swirling tidal wave of chaos to swim in. A murky abyss with the unknown. 

I'm getting back on track. I'm thinking about meditating. I chant, not because I think it's magical, but because the rhythmic nature of it all releases tension. It's my verbal meditation. I'm exercising. I'm looking at lifestyle changes in a new light. I'm joining women groups and doing my best to let go, love, go deep, and don't give a fuck about shit that doesn't matter. If it's not a life at stake or the environment, it probably doesn't matter. Case by case matter. 

I think it's time to forgive mom, the wounded broken woman child. 

Diet fail

I've given up on the diet. Even while being faithful and exercising I started to gain. I stopped after watching a video on Gaiam Tv from an Ayurvedic physician about diets. I did some research and I bought his book and I'm starting the first phase tomorrow. First phase is you eat 51% from the season your in food's list and you eat only 3 meals a day. When give comfortably mastered not snacking at all you move into the next phase, so on and so forth. It's all about not stressing and figuring out how much or what kinds of foods you need to sustain yourself until the next meal. He advices to play with that aspect until it's a stress freeand works. He also says gaining weight in the winter is normal and not to be stressed either.

I've never read such a natural instinctive diet. His philosophy is simple, honest, and  seems easy enough to follow. You tweak for your body type and try to eat as many of the foods for that season.

There are 3 seasons; winter, spring, summer. Fall is included in winter because you are in fact eating fall foods in the winter.

Winter is high fat and high protein meals. Your cheese, nuts, meat, and fats. Slow down and hibernated.
Spring is low-fat and low-protein cleansing diet. Lots of spring greens, sprouts, etc. It's detox and get active time.
Summer is high-carb; cooling pasta and fruits to keep you going longer for the longer days. Then cycle back to winter's thick warming foods to cuddle up too.

I'm excited. The funniest part is that I've been naturally doing what he said. I've been eating lighter, juicing to detox, etc... plus his herbs I've been taking as well fir the spring season without knowing he was going to say that. I just could feel it in my body I needed something different.

I hope this lifestyle change helps.

SPOTTED LEAF

About 4 years ago a kitten arrived at my door hungry and sickly. I took the kitten food and water. When it got cold I brought the kitten in and she was named Spotted Leaf. My son was into the Warrior book series about, well, warrior cats. Spotted Leaf was a tortoise-shell cat that died in battle. Oh, how we live up to our names.

Spotted Leaf went into heat in the spring after her first winter indoors. It all happened so fast. She sliced open the second story window screen and escaped for several days. She came home pregnant. People railed me how I should've gotten her fixed. Yes, I should've  done that but my mother was dying and spaying a cat when my other cat was already neutered didn't seem important. Less than a month after my mom died Spotted Leaf gave birth to her kittens. We find homes for 2 but couldn't for the other 3. One we kept had never came home and presumed dead. We still have the 2 Grays; Walkie and John.

Spotted Leaf was not a good mother. She was young and dumb. I put kittens on her nipples, I had to watch her like a hawk because she works steal them away and then not feed them. If she was human the kids would've been in foster care and adopted out.

The cats were allowed to stay in the house for their first winter. Since they were born in July they were not ready for snow and ice. They were much too young. The following spring I set them all free. I put food and water out and off they went to explore the great outdoors. Come winter my husband wouldn't let them back in. Spotted Leaf was cold and found a warm spot, an old car. The problem was the hole she crawled into was to high on the windshield to get back out. My boys just happen to walk by the abandoned car in the field on a nice winter day and see her hopping around inside. She was almost dead. She'd been missing for 3 weeks. I had been concerned but didn't know where to look. She ate and ate and ate and drank and drank and drank. I can't help but think more than one factor played in her youthful demise. Feral kitten, tortoise-shell (they typically don't live as long), eating God knows what on her adventures, almost starving to death, stress of dogs hating you, and young mother. This winter I put my foot down with my husband. I told him to either help me build a warm cat house or they were coming in. They came in.

Tonight Spotted Leaf took her last breath. A young cat that lived hard and fast left this earthly plane with a fight. She was not happy about dying. She wasn't ready. She was determined not to go. It was extremely painful to watch and experience.

I didn't have hospice drugs to help facilitate the end happening faster and easier. I had to hear all the screams. It was like being there when my grandma died.

I chanted, I petted, I said "I love you" and "goodbye." I wiped her bum every time her bowels emptied. I would lay her on a new clean towel. I was her attending nurse for an entire week.

Not being my first death I knew yesterday the end was near when she started eating and drinking like crazy. The calm before the storm was about to hit. This morning I found bloodied vomit. When I hit home from my dad's there was poop everywhere. I knew it was going to be tonight and, sadly, I was correct.

Her last 3 hours a rarely left her side. I am filled with grief. I was alone. It was painfully hard. I'm exhausted and too upset to sleep. Life, as it is.

Here I am

I don't understand everybody's journey, it's not mine to know. I do know this, I can appreciate beauty even if I don't understand what or why of the situation.

I wish people could be more tolerant and loving. Tonight I read aloud what an acquaintance had written on Facebook about the death of his ox. The ox quit eating 12 days before and had been lying down for a week. Several times a day he was pampered with water, brushing, and chanting. They set up an iPod in the barn of chanting so he wouldn't feel alone while they did other chores. He was well cared for as he made his transition. Today after his morning petting and brushing and refusing water he passed.

I read the post out loud because I thought the care given to this ox was beautiful. He was treated with dignity and love.  The crass person across the table said...oh never mind. I can't blemish Vayu's death with nasty remarks.

Anyhow, I realized how many people out there preach love but they have none to give and they are completely unaware of their situation.

I may not I understand the religious aspects that these humans give to these oxen but I can understand the love and because of that I can find common ground with them. 

Goodbye, Vayu. If you reincarnate I hope you come back with as much love as was shown to you in this life time.