100 messages

Some conversations go
From hate to mate.
Some stay stagnant
Some stay loyal

How do you string a man up
What would u use as bait?
Persistent desperation
As long as your willing to wait

One thing to understand
Women don't play fair
They don't need the upper hand
They honestly don't care

I can feel the stench from your lies
I can see it seep through your rotted teeth
It lies deep in your lovers eyes
Obvious as a bloody sheet

Your promises are vague
Your attempts are weak
Don't say I didn't warn you
You (he) are (is) mine to keep.

wrong house, right neighborhood

Today I pondered depression, anxiety, the usual...

and I wondered IF I never suffered the typical trauma victims conditions, 

then maybe that is why I don't seem to connect with others effectively. Meaning, sure I make friends very easily, but somehow there is always a small detachment.

To put it into context, a typical example of this would be my inability to have a close girlfriend, with out getting pissed off at her needy girly ways. I use to chalk this up to being irritated that the majority of women don't take care of themselves and jump from Daddy to whoever without even thinking about it. And that kind of thinking coming from a daddy's girl, is impressive. The few strong women I do meet, blow me away. But I still find it amazing, that even these strong women get weak in the knees for a man with a fat wallet. I could go on about the psychology to this, and how it pertains to me. (because trust me, If I could swallow my pride, and find a man that I could almost tolerate, that would and could take care of me... I would think about it. Because it beats eating ramen under a stack of old comforters just to stay warm AND still shake from the bitterness that is your home. well.. in theory at least) 

But the idea is, I couldn't stomach these women who had every problem in the world, but exactly none at all. Boo hoo bitch, Im sorry you spent too much on the credit card that IS IN YOUR HUSBANDS NAME and he cut you off. Go home and cry about it into your organic curry and expensive whine, and leave my cold hungry ass alone! See what I mean, can't stand them. I always chalked up my attitude about it as being bitter, from my upbringing. Being taught to never depend on anyone, even my own family. Which is halfway true, but then I started realizing, I always manage to find excuses to not confide in someone. I think MAN we could so be best friends, if it wasn't for your intolerable WHINING. 

The cool thing is, I use to hold my lovers to the same standards. They can't be whiney, needed, stubborn, aggressive, abusive, ignorant, etc. But, when they say love is blind, its the truth, because you never see any of that coming. then bam, a year later your like.. why am I still with this boy? He acts like a toddler. But again, that could be a whole other round of psychology based on "boys never grow up" bullshit. 

Moving on. My point is, instead of all this being justified by skinning my teeth with psychological jargon. I think it boils down to trauma. First, a building trauma, made up by a series of unfortunate events that lead my preschool life by its nose hairs. I mean, imagine being 3 and sleeping in different houses every few months. then stretch that concept a few years, and add hotels, trailers, and trucks to that equation. Built trauma. 

Then there is the one time trauma. As seen in my post "Cuffed at midnight". Parent separation round 2, because round one, revolves around my dream. So riddle me that. 

Then there is living with the trauma afterwards. And then experiences rounds of neglect and abuse throughout your preteen years, while trying to heal the trauma from early childhood. 

Its like a mixing pot of nonsense.

And now, at age 22 I think I know exactly what I did to survive it all. 

I think the night my mom got arrested, a part of my brain switched off, or shut down. I acted on instinct, then never stopped. 

I remember recalling not feeling the cold while standing on the playground at school that following winter. 

I remember coming in from outside, peeling off my wet clothes that I had packed snow on to. Then taking off my shirt, and not feeling naked as I walked into my first grade classroom.

I remember the following spring, playing on the playground, running around barefoot. Then running through a puddle and falling on my back. I just laid there until my dad yanked me up and whooped my ass for being stupid. 

I don't remember being sad when I said goodbye to my grandma or little brother. I didn't cry until I got older. 

Its almost as if i put my brain on auto pilot. 

I didn't even have many wants or desires during that time period. I didn't care. 

I saved my allowance every week during third grade, because I didn't care to use it. When we moved my dad found $250 some dollars stuffed into a penny bank. 

I didn't start feeling again until I felt anger. 

Anger and hurt towards my step mom who came into my life when I was 10. 

that is where it began, crying when Im angry. 

I can't divide the two feelings very well, but Im getting better. 

I made myself numb and defensive to the world around me, and I finally realize it 15 years later. 

Self harm is one thing, and often isn't performed with the idea of death in mind. It doesn't even cross your mind. Its wondering how something feels, and if you can control how it feels. Its understanding fear. I didn't do self harm as much as I whiling found harm.

Like 18 piercings in one year. just to see if my body could handle it, and rate the pain scale. 

Have you ever been so scared, your brain shuts down?

it feels like it skips a pump. the blood just stops. and your eyes shake from the tightening of your nerves. 

can you imagine that being triggered by a memory? or a thought? or a place? 

that is anxiety

but that is also emotional detachment. Once your brain enters that stage, it has shut down the pain receptors and response reflexes. So If you are confronted with death, you most likely won't feel most of it. maybe a little pinch. -_0 

I think I spent 3 years with my brain like that. frozen. I lived in motions. I did this, then that. And enjoyed being alone. 

so when the anger happened, it was the only thing that could make it through the freeze. It burned, and I could feel it. So I used it (no regrets)

It wasn't until 2009, that I started feeling sadness. And even that was somewhat filtered. 

Like Im thawing out, but there are still parts that are frozen solid. 

I can feel my body again. I can feel my skin, my feet, my hands. But I feel almost alienated, like Im not suppose to be in the physical nature I am in. 

I don't feel like I am explaining this accurately, mostly because I am really tired. But its exciting, and a little scary at the same time. But if this is how you get over trauma, I am all for it. Even if it makes me a wreck for a while.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emotional_detachment

http://www.helpguide.org/mental/emotional_psychological_trauma.htm

Childhood trauma results from anything that disrupts a child’s sense of safety and security, including:

An unstable or unsafe environment Separation from a parent Serious illness Intrusive medical procedures

Sexual, physical, or verbal abuse Domestic violence Neglect Bullying

I don't want to be scary

I want to be inspiring.
I want to carry my life
in representations
scattered on my body

I don't want children
to see me as the monster
I want them to see beauty
in the person I am

I can't convince adults
to see me as anything
more than a punk

I can't tell them
demons only live
in their mind

But I can help children understand
you can't judge a person
until you  know them

you must be weary of everyone
but still exude trust and love
because there is nothing else

Don't classify bad people
by appearance or style
classify them by deeds done

and you will understand

Memory #the flight

this is where the story begins, then goes backwards and forwards simultaneously.

July 1998
Two years ago, my life was perfect. Well maybe thats an exaggeration, but I loved my life.
I was 5, and I had everything I could ever want. Even a pony I called "pinky"
My little brother was a year old, I lived in a few different houses. All of which were beautiful. I was in gymnastics, ballet, tap, jazz, played piano and violin, and got my nails done with my mother every other week. Oh and I had dresses, hundreds of dresses fit for a princess.

But a little over a year ago, my life started to change. I had to become a different person, very quickly. My mother, my father, my brother, and I were in great falls to see my grandparents. It was christmas. I sat at the window, and watched the snow fall. Then a car pulled up to the curb. It was a familiar car. <insert dream here). I ran to my mother. "Its that man! the one from my dream!" Moms eyes widened. She ran to the window. Then grabbed me and carried me to the basement. "Mom?" I asked "What are you doing?" "Shhh Quiet" "Mommm!" "Shhhh!" She placed her hand over my mouth. I heard knocking at the front door. Grandma answered. I heard a deep voice. I couldn't hear everything but I heard "Presents for Charley" and got excited. Moms grip tightened. I heard the door close and broke free from mom. I ran upstairs. "PRESENTS!" I squealed. Mom was right behind me. "Charley for christs sake be quiet!" She went to the window. "Don't worry, he's already gone." Grandma said. "Presents!" I tried again. "What presents?" Grandma said.
Im not sure what they did with the presents, and at the time I had no clue that man was my dad. In my reality, my dad was the man who had lived with me. The man who came to the house that day, was a man who had haunted my dreams since I could remember. I tried to get information from my mom and grandma, but they wouldn't tell me anything. Said I must have made it up. We stayed through my birthday, age 6. I had two cakes. One barbie one and one chocolate one. And we ate little ceasars pizza, my favorite. Shortly after that we went to live in a small house on the outskirts of town. The house had pink shudders, and it was there I swallowed a penny. 3 months later, we were back at grandmas. Mom and the man who I thought was my dad, were in trouble. I don't know what they did, or who was after them. But we had to split up. Mom, my brother, and I stayed with grandma, and the man had to run. I guess I can refer to him as my step dad, no matter how weird it feels. That is the last time I saw him. A few weeks after he ran, there was another knock on the door. It was my dad, the man from the dream. And this time, we couldn't hide, he had cops with him. Mom had to let him visit once a week, after a few weeks he was allowed to take me places. We loved McDonalds and the park. He even taught me how to play checkers. I didn't mind this man, I still don't know why mom didn't like him. Maybe its because he brought the police to her, and I know mom doesn't like police men. And the police men don't like her. In late May of that year, they came and took her. In the middle of the night. (insert cuffed at midnight memory)

After they took her, the life I knew fell completely apart. I had to go live with my real dad, the guy from my dream. Which was pretty cool. He tried to feed me these flintstone vitamins that I hated. So i hid them under his toaster and fridge. He found them eventually. He had two cats that I loved playing with, and was very kind to me. But my little brother didn't get to come with me. He had to stay with grandma, because his dad had run away a few months earlier. On the weekends I would go to grandmas house to see him, and her, and we'd all go see mom in jail. They moved her quite a bit, so sometimes we had to talk to her through glass, on a phone, and sometimes we'd see her in a small room with tables and chairs. A few times we got a nicer room, just to ourselves. But that didn't happen often. Mom asked me a lot of questions about my father. Where we lived, who I met, what he does. Dad didn't like it very much. I guess that is why we are moving. He waited until I finished 1st grade, then called his mom, my nanny, to come get me and take me to Virginia. That is where I am now. Sitting in the boarding terminal, waiting on my plane. My little brother is standing on the other side of the glass with his face all pushed up into it. My grandma is next to him. Only grandma, not grandpa. He died a few months ago. I made a few silly faces at Dalten, and he made them back. Then grandma bent down, and said something to him. His face fell. Tears and snot streamed down the glass. My nanny grabbed my hand, it was time to go.

In virginia, I won't be Charley Johnson, I'll be Charlene Schillinger.

surrounded

needing time.
untangle unwind
from the chaos
the reality that is mine

seeing age in a different light
being alive isn't a privilege
darling its a fight

Fix this and replace that
everything is insured
live for tomorrow
prepare for it today

we simply don't know
any other way

and in my heart, in my mind
I know this is wrong
we see it as normal
life isn't suppose to be long

only the good ones die young
23 is the magic number
he knew it all along
it's magic from his slumber

my clock is winding down
and I want you to know
i love my small town
with six months to go

i hope you read this
and understand
the plan was his
my deck is his hand.

Forgotten

All it takes is one picture
To send me whirling
Out of control
Disconcerting
All it takes is a phrase
From a time
Perhaps a place
Ill loose my balance
My heads in space

Ill forget who or why
But I can remember how it felt
No matter how much time goes by
The anger doesn't want to melt

While I get older
And continue to loose touch
Ill remember those places
I once loved oh...so...much