Top Ten (Ponderings of a Warped Mind)

10. Swallow bleach.
9. Slit my wrists.
8. Cut my throat.
7. Jump off a building.
6. Play in traffic.
5. Sit on the train tracks.
4. Take a whole bottle of pills.
3. Overdose on insulin.
2. Buy a gun, shoot myself in the head.
1. Kill a bunch of assholes and let the cops shoot me.

Songs I am Feeling Right Now (Yeah, I confess, I like Nicki Minaj)

This is a REAL telephone conversation I just had!

So, I am on the phone with one of the dudes I chill with on a semi-regular basis. He and I get together once in a while, do the damn thing, and keep it moving. So, I call him, and ask him if he can help me out by assembling my new bed frame. He tells me to ask one of my "boy toys". I get quiet for a second, then start laughing. He asks me why I am laughing. So, I told him to think about what he just said, and maybe he would figure out WHY I was calling him!

Support this Business - Wet Ink Comics

I would like to bring you attention to a business called Wet Ink Comics, deemed the "Home of Urbanese Art". Wet Ink has several projects in the works which are available on the website. Wet Ink produces several comic book series, and a project featuring graffiti art. The company also sponsors the "Kids Ink" project, which promotes early reading and art education in schools. Please check out Wet Ink and support it's efforts.

This is for my homie Capone... even though I know he can't see it right now!

Stay strong homie, and take this opportunity to become the best man you can be!

I bet you think these songs are about you.... don't you?

When we first met, I NEVER thought that it would be more than a one time thing. But there was something special that I saw in you, and it wasn't too long before I fell head over heels in love with you. I thought I had been in love before, but I never imagined it could be so good between two people. All that has transpired between then does not matter, because I would love to be back in your arms in a heart beat. I do not care who I meet, you will always have my heart. Even if I meet and marry someone else, you will always be my boo.



When you left me, I thought I would die. I did not want to breath anymore. I wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. I listened to this song hour after hour, day after day for months and months on end. I still feel like no one else can possibly make me as happy as you make me. You are still my best friend, and I am always here for you, if you need me, you know how to reach me. You bring sunshine into my day. If a day goes by and I do not hear your voice, it feels like it has been a day that I have not been truly alive.



Yes, I imagine us together some time in the future, walking down the aisle. And at our wedding reception, this is the song to which we would share our first dance. I cray when I hear this song and imagine you and I reuniting and being able to sing this song to you. Through all the years, all the trials and tribulations, you are still the one I love, I always have, and I always will.

So.... I spent the evening with a man...

So, I went out with a man who I have been avoiding for a few weeks now. He is a really nice guy. Not bad looking. Polite. Friendly. Courteous. The type who opens doors for a lady. First thing I noticed when I walked out to his car was that he opened the car door for me. I thought that was really sweet. Not too many guys do that nowadays. (I remember not knowing how to react when my ex pulled out my chair for me the first time we went to a restaurant LOL)

So, we went to go get coffee and doughnuts. I wasn't going to have him come to my house, because it was kinda messy, but we were really having some good conversation, so I changed my mind. So, we headed back to my apartment to watch a movie. He gave me his last two cigarettes. He even gave me money for the bus when I told him I was going to have to cancel my doctor's appointment because I had no way of getting there.

Then, he tried to kiss me. And thus ensued the awkwardness. Why? Because he is the "wrong" race. Yeah, I know, shallow as hell. And, I felt really awful about it, because he is a REALLY nice guy, and for all I know, he could become the love of my life. So, while my first instinct was to go back to ignoring his calls, I decided to tell him the truth.

I told him that I have dated Black men exclusively for the past 15 years, and am having a really hard time adjusting to the idea of dating someone who is not Black (he is El Salvadorean). He said he understood, and would be patient, and that he would still like to see me again.

I didn't know exactly how to explain it to him, but honestly, I almost feel like I am a traitor to my ideals by dating a man who is not Black. I don't know WHY I feel the way I do. It is like I feel that if I date someone who is not Black, I am turning my back on the fight for racial justice. And I know realistically this is not true. I can be just as effective in fighting racism dating a white man, a Black man, or a Hispanic man. But, there is this fear in my that if I date a man who is not Black he will end up being someone who is racist towards Black people.

I tried dating a Puerto Rican man a few years ago. But, after a few weeks of speaking with him, he started saying some fucking up things about Black women. So, I had to cut the relationship off. And I am terrified that the same thing will happen with this man. So, I told him about my concerns.

He SEEMS to be open minded and nonjudgmental SO FAR, but only time will tell. But, THE FIRST time I hear him say some uncalled for shit, will be the last time, believe me. I just hope he is patient and can bear with me until I am able to adjust to what is a brand new experience for me.

Schoolhouse Rock...

Dear Penis.....

I can't Understand!

Why is it so easy for other women to get pregnant and not me?

I look at women who treat their children like dirt and wonder why they have been giving the blessing of being a mother while I have been denied. What egregious sin have I committed that I have not been able to conceive? Why am I being punished?

I look at 16 year old girls have babies and foisting their care off upon their mothers while they go out partying and wonder why THEY are able to be "mothers" when they DO NOT EVEN CARE or particularly WANT TO BE while I, who am DESPERATE to have a child of my own, am unable to??

I do not care HOW I have a child, whether it is a biological child, an adoptive child or a long term foster child, I WANT TO BE A MOMMY!

It is ALL I WANT OUT OF LIFE!! I am not asking for a lot of money! I do not want a fancy car or a house! I do not need any of the "finer" things in life, I simply want the opportunity to raise a child. I want to be able to pass the lessons that I have learned throughout my life on to another human being. I want someone to nurture and take care of. Someone to provide for. Someone to love.

Every month, I become more and more depressed when I realize I am not pregnant. I trick myself into believing that it is GOING TO HAPPEN. This month I have take THREE pregnancy tests! I do not want to believe I am NOT having a child. I am late. I am nauseous. I am peeing every half hour. But, I am NOT pregnant.

Why??

I NEED to become a mother, more than I have ever needed anything in my entire life. I do not even see the purpose of continuing this life if I cannot have a child.

For YEARS, I have been "irregular". Because of my blood sugar (I thought it was my weight, but it turned out to be my sugar) I would go months, even years, without getting a period, and then when I did get one, it would last for months and months. At one point it lasted almost two years. So, I could understand why I was unable to conceive then.

But I am doing everything right now. My sugar WAS in the normal range (until a few weeks ago) and my cycle was regular for the first time in years. For the past three months, I have been trying to schedule my sexual activity around my cycle, to optimize my chance of conceiving. And still, nothing.

I am at my wits end. My doctor wants me to wait 4-6 months to seriously try to get pregnant. She wants my sugar to be BACK in normal range (it is still a tad high from the past few weeks of falling off my diet), and she wants to take me off of a bunch of my medications in preparation for pregnancy. I am terrified that no matter what I do, it is not going to happen!

I would love to be able to adopt, but as a single woman on a fixed income, that would be very difficult right now. So, I am going to work with my doctor on this one. I want this. I need this.

It WILL happen. I have to have faith.

I have to believe.

Every Sperm is Sacred!

Lonely

I am so sick and tired of sleeping alone at night. I have a big, huge bed, and I need someone to lie beside me in it. I want to wake up and see his sleeping form beside me, and know that he means something to me and I mean something to him. I need love.

For the past few years, I have said that having a man didn't mean as much to me as having a child. That I could live without a boyfriend or a husband. That I preferred to be on my own, to not have anyone to answer to.

I am not so sure now.

I want someone here who will hold me when I need to be held. Who will kiss me when my lips are burning with desire. Who will stroke my cheek and run his fingers through my hair.

I am sick of being alone.

I really cannot imagine living the rest of my life as a single, childless woman. If I have to, I would honestly rather not live at all. I need love.

I need someone to listen to me when I speak, to comfort me when I cry, and to cheer me up when I am down.

I need someone in my life. I have an empty void in my life. I am tired of being alone.

I am 36 years old. I have no husband. No boyfriend. No children. No prospects.

I do not know what to do. I cannot continue to go on like this. I need someone special in my life. I need someone to love.

I need a miracle.

Shit, at this point, I will just settle for a warm body lying next to me at night.

"I Bet My Daughter Knows my Name!"

So, this little girl apparently was awakened by her parents "love". So, her father decided to probe to find out what she saw. And the results are hilarious!

I have to say though, I admire her parents handling what was an embarrassing situation WITHOUT making the little girl feel like what she saw/heard was not natural. They did not make her feel like she was "bad" for witnessing a totally natural act. I applaud them for that.

I also have to say that some of the comments I have seen around the internet about this video are hideous. A lot of racist comments of course. A lot of "the parents should have known better". WHAT exactly should they have "known better"?? Should they never share an act of love while their daughter is living with them?? Out of fear that she may realize that sex is a normal, natural part of a loving relationship??

Whatever the naysayers may believe, I see this video as an example of a loving family and think it is precious!

Don't Tell Anyone, but I Have Three!

I LOVE my Snuggie! So much that I went out and bought two more for myself. And one for my father's wife. And another for my sister.

Yeah, yeah, you can stop laughing now...

But for real... when I first saw the Snuggie commercial, unlike most folks who laughed, I looked at it and thought..."What a fantastic idea!" I bought one right away! I was a Snuggie pioneer! Now, almost every household has a Snuggie!

I have to admit though, I was a bit disappointed at first. It was the dead of winter, and even covered in my Snuggie, I was freezing my ass off. So, I stuck it in the closet and thought I had wasted my money. Pulled the comforter off my bed and got under that instead.

Well, when spring came, it was too hot for my comforter, but too chilly to go without anything. So, I took out the Snuggie. It was PERFECTION!

So, I used it all through the spring then pulled it back out in the fall. By winter time, I was back to using the comforter. But, to be honest, many times over the winter when my apartment was icy, I got under my snuggie again, wrapped a blanket around my back and shoulder, and over my head, THEN got under the comforter.

Ahhhh, Snuggie.. I do not know how I lived without you!

Do "Fat" and "Crazy" go hand in hand?

Obesity -- defined as a body mass index, of 30 or higher -- was associated with a 25 percent increase in the likelihood of major depression, bipolar disorder and panic disorder.

Although the risk of depression over a lifetime is about 20 percent, the study indicated that it is 28 percent among people who are obese, a statistically significant difference.

The link between obesity and mental illness was most pronounced among those who were more educated and had higher incomes. The association may be as high as 44 percent among individuals who had attended some college, according to the research. No significant differences between the sexes were found.

The study sparked debate over the chicken-and-egg question of which comes first -- obesity or mental illness. One expert suggested that the two conditions perpetuate one another.”

Source

I remember riding in a cab one day and discussing my experiences with mental illness with the driver. He told me “Just lose weight and all of your mental health issues will go away”. I was offended.

But then I really sat and thought about what he said. I had to question whether there was kernel of truth to what he was saying. All my life I had told myself that if I was just thin, I would be happy. Then, these doctors had come along and told me that I was “mentally ill”- that I had a biological condition not related to my weight that caused me to suffer from depression, mood swings, and an inability to participate in healthy, mutually beneficial relationships.

It was so easy to accept the word of the doctors. After all, most people believe that an individual is fat because of their own laziness and lack of moral integrity. So, I had walked around believing that since my weight caused me misery, I had brought it all on myself. So, I quickly latched on to the “mental illness” theory because it meant that my issues were NOT MY FAULT.

Over time though, I have come to believe that the intersection of mental health and obesity is far more complex.

I have a condition called “borderline personality disorder” which presents as a severe problem establishing appropriate boundaries, obsessiveness, and fear of abandonment. A chemical component has NOT been established as a causative factor for BPD. It does not respond to medication. Most doctors believe that environmental factors (or “nurture”) have a larger role in the development of BPD than genetic or biological factors (or “nature”). Looking back over my life, I believe that I was so severely traumatized by the bullying I received as a child due to my weight issues that I developed maladaptive ways of coping which resulted in BPD.


So, I really hate my BPD diagnoses. Instead of blaming the people who constantly bullied me and the ones who failed to stand up and protect me, I blame myself. I feel like it was “my fault” that I was fat, and that the people who terrorized me were only responding to a situation I brought upon myself and could have prevented. Maybe if the societal messages that fat people are ugly, stupid, and worthless were not so strong, I would not have developed this disorder. Maybe BPD is not even real. Maybe it is just an excuse for my failure to thrive. I have even gone so far as to tell my doctor that BPD is not a “real” mental illness, and that the real problem is that I am a just a fucked up person (part of me has bought into the idea that most of society perpetuates- that mental illness is not a "real" disability and mentally ill people deserve derision, not support).

I wonder how many children will develop this disorder because they suffered at the hands of bullies? If our society was not so filled with hatred, if discrimination was not so acceptable, could the next generation have better mental health? Why do we consider it OK to mock people, especially children, for being different, and expect that there will not be serious consequences down the line?

I have also been diagnosed as being bipolar, and having generalized anxiety and panic disorder. These I can deal with. In fact, I sometimes ENJOY these diagnoses, since they give me an excuse for my bad behavior and actions. If I hurt someone I love, I can tell them it was the mania talking. When I am too lazy to go shopping, go to work, or even shower, I can say it is because of my depression. And maybe I am telling the truth.

Depression causes changes in appetite. Some people eat exorbitant amounts of food when they are depressed, simply because it provides them comfort. I know when I become extremely down or very anxious, eating helps to relieve some of the tension. So, for many people, depression can lead to weight gain. I believe that depression from childhood contributed to my weight gain when I was younger.

So, did my mental illness cause me to become fat or did the fact that I was fat cause me to become mentally ill? I do not know, but I suspect that the answer is not so cut and dried. I think that I became fat for a variety of reasons, including depression, genetics, and laziness. I believe that the torment I faced at the hands of my peers as a child triggered my predisposition towards depression, and that my depression caused my weight gain to spiral out of control. And from there is was a vicious cycle. The more I ate, the fatter I got.The fatter I got, the more depressed I became. The more depressed I became, the more I ate. And the fatter I got, the more I was tormented. The more I was tormented, the more my coping mechanisms became maladaptive.

I think that if someone had recognized that I was suffering as a child and had interceded on my behalf I would be healthier today. If so much stigma was not attached to being overweight, I would not have gotten to the point where food was my only friend. If I had been treated with kindness instead of ridiculed as a child, I would be a different person than I am today.

Would I be fat? I do not know. Would I have been mentally ill? Again, I cannot answer that question. But, it is what it is. I AM fat. I AM mentally ill. And, if I work really hard, I KNOW I can be a happy, successful person despite both of those facts.

Time to get Buckwild! (or Yes, I was a PHONY!!!)

Remember Buckwild (aka Becky) from Flavor of Love? If so, the first thought that pops into your mind is "phony"! I remember the whole season she was on listening to her try to talk in her stereotypical (perceived) "Black girl" fashion, until she got upset and the real Becky came out. And guess what? The REAL Becky was a WHITE GIRL! Surprise, surprise! I HATED Buckwild from day one. She seems like she was perpetrating a fraud big time! I couldn't understand WHY she was acting so damn phony! And, then I spoke to my ex. He told me to think back a few years. He told me to remember what I was like when I first started spending more time with Black people than with white people. And I realized: I WAS Buckwild!

MY flirtation with phoniness did not last all that long. I thought I was SO COOL, using slang, talking with some sort of accent that I imagined REAL Black women spoke with (never mind the fact that my friends were not some monolithic entity who all spoke alike). I thought if I spoke in a phony manner, and called myself a "gangster bitch" somehow I would gain some semblance of acceptance, which is what I had always wanted in life. I really thought it worked. I started hanging out with ONLY Black people. I was invited to parties where I was the "token white girl". I thought it was because of my new found persona that I was accepted by my new friends. I never imagined that people were actually amused (and sometimes offended) by my antics. And I REALLY never imagined that I could be accepted by my new friends WITHOUT acting like someone who I am not!

Well, after a while, I met my ex. The first thing he did was tell me that I need to get off the fake shit. He told me that if I talk like a "valley girl" or "the whitest white chick on earth" (which I do) to accept that and move on. He told me that I could find more TRUE acceptance and friendship by being WHO I AM instead of being WHO I THINK OTHERS WANT ME TO BE! The funny thing is, at first I protested. I swore up and down I was NOT faking anything. (Even though I knew damn well growing up I spoke TOTALLY differently then I was speaking at that time) But, after he specifically requested that I not speak that way in front of his family, I realized that he was right. He was right about me acting fake. And he was right about people liking and accepting me more for being myself.

I became very close with his family. I KNOW that if I had continued my phony ways, they would have NEVER accepted me. I WOULD NOT have been invited to their parties. They WOULD NOT have asked me to go to the clubs with them (I never actually went, but I was invited)I would have never been offered the opportunity to live with his brother and his brother's girlfriend. They would have looked at me as some white clown who was "trying to be down"... which was what I HAD been!

After that, I learned my lesson. Now, I do get a lot of flack from my friends about how I talk.... they call me a valley girl or "snowflake"... but they tease me with love. They know I am an honest, real person. And the fact that I DO sometimes use slang (said in a valley girl accent) is more organic now, when it used to be manufactured.

I decided to write this post last night after a conversation with a relatively new friend (who I discuss politics with). He had texted me a few weeks ago asking what kind of music I like. And he typed "Tell me the truth, don't give me an answer that you think I want to hear" That made me think about the fact that for years, once I started listening to rap music and R&B, I TOTALLY denied my love for "Freedom Rock" (remember that cassette set they used to sell on TV of "classic rock"?) I thought that I could not enjoy different genres of music, that I had to make a choice. When I answered his text, for the first time in years, I admitted the truth. I told him "I love 90s rap music (especially Biggie), 60s and 70s rock, and show tunes" He laughed about the show tunes... saying I was "Like a gay man" but when I spoke to him yesterday about how hard it was for me to admit that I was still into genres of music OTHER THAN rap/R&B/reggae we got into a discussion about white chicks who feel the need to act phony to gain acceptance from Black people (especially men). It felt liberating to admit the truth. I felt that by being myself, I was being a lot more "conscious" than I had been all of my life. And that is a good thing!

Still wishing and hoping

Well, another month goes by and still no prospect of becoming a mother. Went to the doctor today, and, due to wishful thinking, decoded to take yet another pregnancy test. Of course, as usual it was negative. I have been wanting this and trying to make it happen for 17 years now. I am on the verge of giving up. There is practically no time left. I try to read encouraging stories about women who became first time moms after 40. I remind myself of my cousin, who had a child at 40, and another at 42. With no fertility treatments involved.

But, I still keep thinking that 40 is this magical cutoff date. That if I do not get pregnant by the time I reach that age, I might as well give up entirely. I read once that by age 40, we only have 12% of our eggs left. It seems like it is practically impossible to get pregnant beyond that age.

Two years ago I went for a consultation for weight loss surgery. I declined to go through with it because the doctor told me I could not get pregnant for two years after the surgery, and I was intent on having a baby sooner than that. Now, the two years have passed, and I look back in dismay when I realize that I could have had the surgery, lost a lot of weight, increased my fertility and thus my chances of getting pregnant, and have a child on the way by now.

Now, it is REALLY too late to get the surgery if I want to have a baby. It is a year to wait before the surgery, and 2 years after... which would bring me to 40. And my odds of getting pregnant at 40 are slim to none.

My doctor today told me I should start walking. Get my blood sugar back under tight control (I was doing so good there, but depression has got me overeating again). Have sex 14 days after each period. Take folic acid every day. Get my hormone levels checked.

My ex keeps telling me to consult with a fertility doctor, to see if I CAN actually get pregnant. But, I do not believe my insurance will pay for it. I think that a fertility doctor will try to dissuade me from becoming pregnant, because it would be high risk (the risk to me is so worth taking though). And, what if I go to a fertility doctor and find out that I really can't get pregnant?? What will happen when I realize all hope really IS gone!

I would like to receive training to be a foster parent. But, my apartment is not big enough. If I HAD custody of a child, I would be allowed to get a bigger apartment, but they will not give me custody of a foster child until I do have a larger place. It is a vicious Catch 22.

My father's wife claims that they will not give me a foster child because of my mental health history. But, I met a woman who is an adoptive parent, and she told me that as long as I am functioning well currently, and for the past few years (which my doctor says I have been) then they will allow it.

I need something to happen. The desire to be a mother is too strong to ignore.

Another Day Another Blow Job (or My First True Love)

From 2002:

Dear Diary,
Another day... another blowjob...

Oops!!! Sorry, just having a Go Ask Alice kind of moment. I would like to sincerely thank Mrs. Braithwaite, my fifth grade librarian, for recommending the book that indelibly etched those words into my psyche, and marked my transition from the Children's to the Young Adult's section at the local library. I would also like to thank my mother for patiently explaining, in words a fifth grader could understand, what exactly a "blow job" was. Two things I will always remember: 1) My Mom always answered my questions about sex without becoming embarrassed or angry, and 2)A "blow job" sounded like the most disgusting thing ever invented by a human being, and I was NEVER going to participate in such a degrading activity (yeah, right!)

For some reason, I was thinking about that book on my way to work this morning. I was remembering the people in my life who encouraged my adoration of the written word. Mr. Siegel, my second grade teacher, always read to the class, and set aside class time for "independent reading." Mrs. Braithwaite, the above mentioned elementary school librarian, invented a special award which she presented to me at my "moving up" ceremony. It was a maple plaque with a brass plate reading "Super Reader", and I was the first and only recipient. My mother, always my staunchest supporter, who trekked to the library with me every week and allowed me to choose whichever books piqued my interest. And last but not least, the children's librarian at the public library, whose name, for the moment, I cannot recall, who instituted the Summer Reading Program, in which teen volunteers listened to children describe books they read each week, and helped them pick out trinkets and stickers for each tome completed.

Anyway, I was reminiscing about my days spend curled up with a good book on my way to work this morning. I was one of those oddball children who would repose on a tree stump, engrossed in my newest discovery from Judy Blume, rather than playing hide and seek with the others. I used to beg my parents to allow me to stay up late, not to partake of the latest drivel offered by network television, but to finish the chapter I was working on in my Harriet the Spy novel. I am thoroughly convinced that the reason I wear glasses to this day is because of the reading by the light of a nightlight that I did as I child.

I hope that my children develop the love for the written word that I did. I refuse to force my interests upon them, but I will try to sway their opinion of reading by providing an environment that encourages them to lose themselves in the pages of a good book. I will purchase books for them that reflect their hobbies and interests, and make them available for their perusal. My cousin was reading by the time he was in preschool, not because his parents forced him to study phonics or learn his alphabet at six months, but rather because they constantly read him his favorite books, allowing him to follow along with the words as they verbalized them.

All I know is that as a child, books provided an alternate world for me. Books did not care about my weight. Books did not call me four eyes. Books did not care if I was afraid to catch a ball. Books were my first love, and it has developed into a life long affair.

How Can I go from Promiscuous Girl To Virtuous Woman?

I have NO IDEA how to be a girlfriend! A friend with benefits? Got that down pat! A booty call? Sure, no problems there!  But a girlfriend? I am TOTALLY clueless!

My last serious relationship lasted for four years, and ended six long, lonely years ago. And even that relationship was not traditional. I won't go into details, but my ex and I definitely participated in some activities that were out of the norm. I never "cheated" during this relationship, because there was no need to, I was able to experience  "variety" without telling lies or keeping secrets.

I have made some "interesting" choices in my dating/sex life over the years. If I was a man, I would have been called a "playboy", a "stud" or a "player", but since I am a female, I was looked at as a "slut", a "hoe" or a "freak." Serious double standard there, but that is for a whole other post!

Now I am at the point where I REALLY want a COMMITTED, LOVING, and LASTING relationship. Only problems is, I have NO IDEA how to go about transitioning from a "good time" girl to a "good" girl. I suspect the first step is to STOP having casual sexual encounters. I went from having sex on a regular basis to being celibate for the last two months. But, I feel like there is something wrong with me if I am NOT having sex. I read that the average single person has sex 49 times a year, which is roughly once a week, so I feel like I am doing something wrong by NOT participating in all the fun! I am used to being ABOVE average in all aspects of life, and being BELOW average when it comes to frequency of sexual activity is difficult for me to accept. Friends point out that over the years I have had enough sex for three lifetimes, but still, I don't want to "fall behind", dammit!

So, I have been looking for someone serious. A future husband, father, household partner type of man. And I have met quite a few in the process.... but therein lies the problem... I have NO IDEA how to be a future wife, mother,  household partner type of woman.

Mainly, I have been resorting to online dating... I am a big woman, so I have joined some personals sites for BBWs and men who like BBWs. I have been reading dating advice books, and reading websites with romantic advice. And it seems like I am doing EVERYTHING wrong.

One advice page I checked out said to NEVER talk about politics or religion on the first date. TO keep the conversation on movies, television, music. But I cannot help but talk about my opinions on hot button issues. My political ideals are part of my moral fiber. I don't want to get involved with someone and find out they stand for the EXACT OPPOSITE of the things I stand for! So, I ramble on about my opinions on the government, the police, immigration, racism, and on and on. And never get a call back.

My friends tell me not to have sex too quickly. So, I make it clear from day one that I am NOT looking to jump into bed too soon. When a man asks to come see me at home, I make it a point to mention that an invitation to my apartment is NOT an invitation into my bedroom. I try not to get involved in ANY physical activities that may lead to my panties on the floor. And never get a call back.

I am SO romantically challenged that I do not even know dating protocol.... is the man ALWAYS supposed to pay for dinner? If he pays for dinner, should I offer to chip in for the movie? If he says he wants to come to my place and watch DVDs for our first meeting, is he just being cheap? Or looking for some nookie? Or is he just a homebody that likes to have peace and quiet? And as for phone calls... how long am I supposed to wait for him to call me back after a date? If I call him before he calls me, will I look too desperate? Or like a stalker? I am totally clueless!!

And then, there is the long distance issue... if I meet a man who lives an hour away in Manhattan and has no car, how often can I expect for him to make the trip out here to see me? If I speak to him on the phone everyday, but he doesn't take the trip out to visit, is he still interested, or is he just stringing me along? When he tells me his Mom and him live together, and that he helps her care for his grandma, is that reality, or is he just a Mama's boy? If he says he is working two jobs and doesn't have time to hang out is that just an excuse to not see me? Is he just trying to let me down easy?

I think I need to attend some sort of dating boot camp.... they have boot camps for weight loss, boot camps for wild teens, even boot camps for people who don't know how to cook.. so why not a boot camp for those of us who have no idea how to meet that special someone? Hey, when someone starts a dating boot camp, please sign me up!! You never know, I might just meet a nice guy there!P

Some People Say I'm Crazy

I am NOT mentally ill. I DO have a mental illness, but it is NOT who I am. For years as an individual in the mental health system, I learned to define myself by my diagnoses. When people asked me what I was, I said "I am bipolar" or "I am borderline". As if my mental illness defines me as a person. I am so much more than a medical condition.

I am a woman,
I am a lover,
I am a fighter,
I am a writer,
I am a sister,
and I am a daughter.

For so many years, my life was spent living as a mental patient. Not because I was in the hospital (although I did spend some time there), or because I was in an outpatient psychiatric treatment program. I spent my life as a mental patient because I allowed my diagnoses to tell me who I am. I let my illness tell me how I should run my life.

That is over.

I am no longer going to let anyone put me in a box because I happen to have a medical condition. And, oh yes, it IS a medical condition. It is not a moral defect, it is not laziness, it is not an excuse.

It is NOT something to be ashamed of.

I used to frequent a message board on a cooking website. From day one, I was open and honest about myself, sharing some of the most intimate details of my life with the others on the board. I shared that I had a psychiatric condition. I shared that I was on SSD. I shared the information that I live in Section 8 housing and receive Medicaid. And boy, was I sorry.

The shaming began early. From day 1, I was accused of "stealing" taxpayer money for receiving Social Security, WHICH I PAID INTO for many years. I was told that I didn't act "poor" enough because I had a computer and a TV. I was told that I did not need the subsidized housing or medical benefits, because I didn't have a "real" disability. I was accusing of defrauding the taxpayers.

If I had exposed that I had a PHYSICAL ailment that prevented me from working, I would have received nothing but support and well wishes. Instead, I got accusations of impropriety. I was told I was not fit to serve as a field editor for the magazine by another field editor BECAUSE I shared my experience as an individual with a mental illness.

I asked this woman if she would have been opposed to me holding this position (which is an unpaid, at home volunteer job) if I had chronicled my life as a person with diabetes. She didn't even need to respond, I already knew the answer. My diabetes is an "acceptable" diagnosis. Diabetes is a "real" medical condition. My mental illness offends other people. They believe I should keep quiet and neglect to advocate for myself and others with a mental illness. They want me to hide from the world.

They want me to be ashamed.

Well, I am tired of being ashamed.

I HAVE A MENTAL ILLNESS.
IT IS NOT WHO I AM, IT IS SIMPLY A MEDICAL CONDITION.

And as much as people might hate me, I do not care.
My family loves me.
My friends love me.
I love me.

And in the end
isn't that what really matters?

I Love A Good Cry

I am a crier. I cry at TV shows, movies, new articles, even TV commercials. I LOVE a good cry. But, for a period in my life, I was totally UNABLE to cry. I could not figure out why. I would feel like crying. I would WANT to cry. But, nothing would happen. All those emotions stayed bottled up inside with the tears I could not shed.

I was in a psychiatric day program at the time, and I complained to my shrink that I had forgotten how to cry. He had a simple solution for the problem. He took me OFF of my anti-depressant, and lo and behold, within a few weeks, I had regained the ability to bawl. And bawl I did.

I cried all the time again. Not out of depression. Not even out of sadness. I cried when I was touched. I cried when something or someone pulled at my heartstrings. I cried at music, literature, Youtube videos. You name it, I cried at it. And I LOVED IT. I still cry now, though not with the same intensity as when I first got my tears back. I think I have teared up AT LEAST three times over the past 48 hours. And I wouldn't change it for the world.

I am an emotional person. I do not like to bottle things up, and crying helps me to relieve my pain and anxiety. So, I have made the decision that I WILL NOT take anti-depressants again. Nor will I take mood stabilizers. I HAD sworn of ALL psychotropic medication, but when my anxiety started getting really bad, I had to give in and take an anti-anxiety medication. Not one of those real powerful, addictive ones. Just a real mild little something to take the edge off.

A few years ago, I lived in a house that was owned by an agency that provided housing for mentally ill individuals. I was REQUIRED to take medication. Someone even came over twice a week to monitor and count my pills. I thought I was going to have to take meds for the rest of my life.

When I moved to my own apartment, I continued the medication for a while, CONVINCED that I would fall into a deep depression or get extremely manic if I did not take pills every day. About 2 years ago, I just decided one day to not fill my prescriptions (NOT recommended, it CAN be potentially deadly if you don't taper off) I go through bouts of depression. I go through manic periods. BUT, it is nothing I cannot get through with the help of a few good friends.

In this society, they want to medicate us for everything. I mean, did Restless Legs Syndrome even EXIST before they came out with a medication to "cure" it? I hear of children as young as five years old being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder (which rarely starts earlier than the late teens to early 20s) and given medication. They give us pills because they do not want us to be too "difficult". But, it deadens us.

It makes us fat. It decreases our sex drive. It causes us to be unable to reach orgasm. It deadens our emotions. It makes us PLIABLE. It make us VULNERABLE.

Now, I am not saying that NO ONE should take psychiatric medications. I mean if someone is hallucinating, or having delusions and medication can make them stop, then by all means prescribe something. BUT, psychiatrists often like to prescribe as many medications as they possibly can, in hopes that ONE will work. And DAMN those pesky side effects. Just a small price to pay.

At one point I was taking 9 psychiatric medications a day. Now, I take ONE. And, I feel SO much better. I am more productive. I can think and write better. My fantasy life (I have a vivid imagination) was GONE when I was on medication. Now, it is back. I can cry. I can dream. I feel like a million bucks.

Taking medication might have been necessary for me AT SOME POINT (though it is debatable) but now I do not need it. I feel like I am free now. I feel like I can be me. I feel like I can fly!

Dreams

1) Have you ever had a dream so scary you had to get up and check the lock on your door and you were afraid to go back to sleep?? Doesn't it suck when that happens? Do you jump on your computer and blog about it right away, or do you actually HAVE a life?

2) Have you ever been head over heels in love with someone who you never even met, purely based on the fact that they are the most intelligent person you ever spoke to? And, dreamt about that person over and over even though you KNEW that you were not looking for the same things in life?

3) Have you ever called someone to tell them you dreamt about them and had the get annoyed, and tell you to STOP?? Can you really CONTROL your own dreams?

4) Have you ever dreamt about someone who has passed on, and worried that because they were angry at you in the dream, they were really sitting up in Heaven pissed at you?

5) Have you ever dreamt that you were the exact type of person that you hate and rant and rave about?

6) Have you ever tried to scream in a dream, and find that only silence comes out?

7) If you die in a dream, do you die in real life?

8) Have you ever been in that half dream, half awake state, and felt your whole body jerk when you dreamt you fell?

A Time to Kill

It all started out innocently enough. I was a 13 year old freshman in high school, and a bunch of us in my honors English class were writing song lyrics on the chalkboard, waiting for the teacher to come back into the classroom. I was a hippy chick, into music from the 60s and 70s (even though this was 1987), so I chose to quote some lyrics from "Turn Turn Turn" by the Byrds. Everything was going fine until I wrote the line "A time to kill..." Well, that certainly got my classmates attention!

The other students in my class started looking at me strangely, asking me why I decided to write that specific lyric on the board (completely ignoring the fact that that it was probably the 5th or 6th line from that song I had written). So, over dramatic teen that I was, I decide to really shake things up!

I started telling my fellow students that I there was going to be a revolution, that the "nobodies" like me were going to rise up against the "popular" students. I said that some of us were sick of being treated like crap, and we were going to change things! I even made some fake posters, and showed them to some of the kids in my class. Over the course of the day, things really snowballed.

Pretty soon, the entire student body was whispering about how I had threatened to kill a bunch of kids. They even spread the word that I had a list of students who were going to be the first to die. (I didn't, and I had never even met some of the kids who approached me in anger over the course of the day angry at me for daring to put their names on the list.)

Eventually, I was called into the dean's office. Apparently, some of the students who I had been talking to about my (non-existent)"plans" were frightened, and decided to turn me into the folks in charge. The dean KNEW the kind of things that students in the school had been putting me through since day one (I had been working with my counselors to get transferred out of the school due to extreme harassment). He and I actually laughed over this situation. He told me he understood why I said the things I said, and that he knew I was not serious, but was just venting. He warned me to refrain from speaking about things like that in the future, because if anything actually happened to the students, I would have been the first suspect. Then he sent me back to class. And he STILL didn't bother to address the issue of bullying with the student body.

Today, a child who did what I did would probably be expelled and charged with a crime, even if they had no concrete plans to back up their words. These situations are taken far more seriously now.

Now, I am by no means condoning school shootings. But, I cannot understand WHY schools, parents, and fellow students decide to remain blissfully ignorant UNTIL a child acts up, and either says, or God forbid, DOES, something extreme. Why is it that when I was being TORMENTED by my classmates on a daily basis, the school administration did not feel the need to call the kids who were treating me like garbage into the office? Why did they try to find me a new school to attend, instead of addressing the issue of bullying that was causing me enough stress to cut myself on a regular basis, and to go home most days in tears?

So many times, I considered taking my own life to stop the pain I was feeling from being treated as less than human. But, I knew if I did, the same students who were constantly throwing things at me, pushing their friends into me, attempting to burn me with cigarettes, and doing whatever they could to make me feel small would be front and center at my funeral, talking about how much they would miss me and what a wonderful person I was. I refused to give them the satisfaction of thinking they did a good deed by attending the funeral and "mourning" the poor fat chick who was bullied to death.

The kids in my school obviously KNEW they were treating me as if I was less than human. If they didn't realize how much their actions were hurting me, they would have never believed that I was capable of enough anger to start a "revolution". (I had NEVER shown any signs of violence). So, why didn't anyone intervene?

I wonder how many school shootings could have been prevented if teachers had bothered to actually SEE the students who were being bullied, and given a damn??

Reading is Fundamental

I love to read. I have ALWAYS loved to read. I LOVE a good story. Although my parents were not big on reading themselves, they instilled a love for the written word in me early by reading my sisters and I a story every night before we went to bed. After I learned how to read, I was constantly found with my nose in a book, immersing myself in the world held between the pages.

I also LOVED learning. I remember when I was in 2nd grade, my aunt had been given a stash of discarded textbooks from my cousin's school. She was getting ready to discard them, when I spotted the pile of books. I asked her if I could take them home, and when I did, I absorbed the information found within voraciously.

When my sisters, neighbors and cousins would spend the day playing games and sports, I would participate for only a short while. Then, I would go sit on a tree stump in the backyard, and read a story. How I loved the adventures of Harriet the Spy, Encyclopedia Brown and Superfudge. I learned how to eat fried worms, and I imagined I was a student at Sweet Valley High. I desperately wanted to be a "Greaser" and hang out with Ponyboy, Soda Pop, Johnny and the rest of the gang.

As a child, I was picked on and berated by my peers. So, I would lose myself in the world I found in my books, in a world of my own imagination. Everywhere I went, I carried at least one book. When my mother took me to the library I would pick out more books then I could carry. I even read the back of cereal boxes!

I remember begging my parents to let me leave my bedroom lights on for "just ten more minutes" or "until I get to the end of this chapter". And after lights out, I would struggle to read by the dim nightlight!

Nowadays, I spend more time reading than I do in any other past time. I NEVER go anywhere without a book. I try to rotate between fiction and non fiction. I am partial to thrillers and forensic detective novels. I love fiction by Black authors and featuring characters from all walks of life. I also love reading books about politics, race and justice. But, I will read absolutely anything (except those corny romance novels with models like Fabio on the cover)

I cannot imagine life without books. I read somewhere that the majority of people, once they are done with school, NEVER pick up another book. I cannot imagine living my life like that. There is nothing that can compare to a good book. Nothing in the world.

Right now, I am hoping to eventually be a mother. I look forward to the day when I can read "Good Night Moon" and "Where the Wild Things Are" to my own child. I am looking forward to the joy in their eyes when they read a Harry Potter or Twilight book (or whatever are the children's must read books at the time when they are growing up)

I hope that I can instill in my future child the same love for the limitless possibilities that reading provides. I know my love for reading has probably impacted my life more than anything else. I hope to pass that on. When a child loves to read, they are never alone.

I realize that as a child, my reading materials offered little to no cultural diversity. So, although I would like to share some of the stories I enjoyed with my own children, I do realize that I need to find books with a diverse cast of characters.

I am someone who loves to do research though, so I am sure there will be no problem finding reading material suitable for my children, books they can see themselves in, and characters with whom they can identify! But, if anyone out there can suggest some good books with non-white protagonists OR a multicultural cast of characters, I would really appreciate some suggestions.

This Show is a HUGE Step in the Right Direction

A few weeks ago, a show premiered on ABC Family channel, starring Nikki Blonsky. The show is called "Huge" and chronicles the lives of a group of (fictional) fat teenagers who are at a weight loss camp. And, miracle of miracles, the characters ARE REAL. They are relatively NORMAL. The lead similar lives to other teenagers (including having crushes AND EVEN RELATIONSHIPS!)

The characters in this show are not caricatures, as most fat people appearing on TV or the movies are. They do not share all of the same values. They are not lazy, or stupid. They are not used as the perennial butt of a joke. They are individuals. Some are beautiful, some not so attractive. Some are athletic, others stay as far away from sports as they can get. Some of them have loving families, some have parents who attempt to shame them into being thinner. Some are outgoing and gregarious, some are shy and withdrawn.

The show portrays the lives of fat teenagers with sensitivity. They are not presented as some monolithic entity. They are each individuals with a wide variety of characteristics. Will, the main character, is a gregarious, proud tomboy who tries to rebel against the body standards set by society (and foisted upon her by her fitness obsessed parents). She comes to fat camp with the idea of gaining weight. And during each episode she gains a little more insight into life and all that it offers.

There is one character who is portrayed as a pretty, popular, albeit chunky blonde bombshell. Another is a shy girl who comes out of her shell while LARPing. There is a boy who is gay, and who is afraid to shower in front of the other boys. Another is an athlete, who became totally obsessed with sports as a bonding ritual with his father after the death of his Mom.

I believe a show like "Huge" is a welcome alternative to all of the one dimensional fat characters that are portrayed on TV. We have all seen the fat character who is the butt of all of the jokes. Ditto for the tragic individual with low self esteem who only finds her true self by shedding the pounds. And of course, who can miss the "reality" shows which pit contestants against one another and encourage dangerous behaviors all in the name of losing weight.

"Huge" shows the realities lived by a wide variety of fat people. It shows fully developed personalities with healthy relationships, and addresses the difficulties of being fat in a body obsessed society WITHOUT making weight the center of the character's lives. I am definitely excited by the prospect of laughing, crying, and sharing in the lives of these young people each week. I hope this show has a long run, because it is sorely needed to balance the message that there is only one standard of beauty and that appearances mean everything that so much of the media pushes.

A HUGE Revelation

"Sometimes I can't even comprehend this is what I really look like." - Ian
from HUGE on ABC Family.

Ahhh.... how many times have I looked in the mirror, and had this SAME EXACT thought running through my head. I think EVERY fat teen says this at some point in their life.

You get to a certain point where you are SO USED to being "different" that it becomes "normal". You feel like you are just like everyone else. You know that emotionally, you go through the same ups and downs as the rest of the world. You experience the same emotions as others... joy, pain, love, fear. You start to feel like you "fit in", like you have a place in the world no different from anyone else.

Then you look in the mirror.

And it all comes crumbling down. You realize that your fat makes you somehow different from every around you. You recognize that being obese makes you a pariah in the eyes of the rest of the world. You start to question your own confidence, wondering WHY you actually thought that you were entitled to live the same sort of life as the skinny, attractive individuals around you.

At this point, you start to obsess about every little thing you say and do. When someone says "Hello" to you and smiles, you imagine that as soon as they are out of sight, they are laughing at you. When you ACTUALLY HEAR people laughing, you assume it is because they are making a joke at your expense. You worry that when you are asked out on a date, it is because the person was DARED to approach you.

Now, I am speaking of fat teens because I think those formative years are when you are impacted most by being designated as "different" or "ugly" or even(and yes, this is a personal one) "a beast". But, those feelings never quite go away entirely.

I am 36 years old, and I still carry the "fat girl" burden around with me. And that burden is comprised of low self esteem, insecurity and self hatred. The burden lightens over time, but it is never shed entirely. It follows me into every relationship I have. It follows me to the grocery store, to a concert, on all of my dates. And sometimes, particularly after taking a long, hard look in the mirror, that burden becomes almost too much to bear.

When I was younger, I tried to punish myself for being fat. I cut myself. I overdosed on pills. I shied away from any social event where I would have to be around "normal" people.

I am at the point now that I am starting to love myself for who I am. Yes, I am fat, but SO WHAT??? Being fat has made me the person I am today, and actually, I think I am a pretty cool individual. I am smart. I am caring. I am inquisitive. I am unique and I am me.

I was going to say that being fat is the least of these things, but that would be a lie. Being fat has defined my life. It has directed my choice of friends. It has affected the way I interact with others. It has shaped how I look at life and what I care about. And that is actually a pretty good thing.

So now, when I look in the mirror and see myself as "fat", "weird" or "a loser", I try to look a little deeper and see the positive impact that being fat has made on my life. I know it is there.

Another Post about Love (and Hell)

I am in love. There is a person in my life who I would love to spend every day and every night with. When I imagine him with someone else, I feel like I am being roasted in Hell fire. When he talks about his children, I wish I could have a child with him. At one point I even asked him to be the father of my child. He turned me down.

I tried to distance myself from the situation, knowing that I tend to get extremely emotional when it comes to men. When I realized I could not stop thinking of him from the moment I woke up until the moment I laid my head down to sleep at night, I thought I had to do something to get him off of my mind. So, I stopped talking to him, thinking I would get over it in a few weeks. After two months, I realized it was not going to happen. So I started talking to him again.

I try REALLY hard to keep our conversations business like. I KNOW he does no reciprocate my feelings for him, but I keep holding on to hope that he will some day. This is my pattern. I fall for someone who wants to "just be friends", I cannot let go. I obsess day and night over the object of my affection. I annoy my friends and family by constantly talking about this individual. I go out of my way to do things for the person, hoping I will convince them that I am who they want in their life. And it NEVER works.

When I find someone who I feel so strongly about, nothing else matters. I can meet a million other men, even find someone who says he loves me, and it doesn't matter. I cannot give up on the person who I feel all of these emotions for. I am willing to sacrifice anything to be with the person. I want to cook for him, clean for him, perform any sexual act he desires. I want to love him. And, I want him to love me back.

Supposedly, if you can't be with the one you love, you should love the one you are with. I cannot do that. I keep imagining that things would be so much better, that I would be so much happier if only a certain person would make me his wife. I keep thinking that one of these days, one of these men that I love so hard will actually return the emotion. But, another part of me feels like I could never be "good enough" to be with the person who I love. I idolize the person. I make him into my God.

The funny thing is, the current object of my affection is someone who I have never even met. But, I want to spend my life with him. I want to take care of him, cater to him, love him.

Then again, if he DID offer me his love, I don't think I would know what to do with it.

I got More Issues than a Magazine Rack

OK, I should be doing what any good liberal blogger should be doing right now, and writing about the overturning of Prop 8. But, to be honest, right now I just do not really care who gets to marry who. To be honest, I would rather NO ONE be allowed to get married... that way maybe I will not feel so disgusted with myself for being a lonely old spinster cat lady with no prospects.

Yeah, I got issues. Anyone who talks to me for more than 15 minutes knows that I am a whole sack full of crazy. For that reason, I do not have many friends. The people who ARE in my life are the ones who can put up with my clinginess, my selfishness and my histrionics. As you can imagine, there are not too many of them.

I have had people tell me that they cannot understand why I am so lonely, why I spent most of my days home alone of the couch with no one to talk to, nose deep in a book. I am friendly, I am smart, I am caring. On the surface, I seem like a really great gal. But, once you get to know me, it is like you opened Pandora's box and unleashed all that is evil on the world.

When I find someone who treats me with respect, who seems to give a damn, I start to OD. I call them CONSTANTLY. If I cannot get in touch with them for an hour or two, I freak out and start to think that they are mad at me and never want to speak to me again. When I end a conversation with someone, I find myself mulling it over in my head for hours after wards, chastising myself for all of the things I said or did wrong. I pick apart every minute detail, and see only failure. Usually the other person who is in on the conversation never even gives a second thought to some faux pas I made that to me seems like a major tragedy.

My therapist told me I have abandonment issues. I do not know where they come from, but my life seems to revolve around the fear of someone leaving me. So, I end up pushing them away by all of my crazy demands. And I really don't mean that I consciously demand "things". Rather, I demand a lot of time and attention. I need Someone who is going to be there to talk to me and listen to me when I need someone to talk to. I need someone to talk me down when I have a batch of pills in my hand, and am ready to swallow them all. I need people who can deal with my crazy.

And frankly, that type of person does not come along very often at all.

I Struggle Every Day with the Concept of Heaven and Hell

I was raised in the Catholic Church. From birth to age 16, I attended church every Sunday with one or both of my parents. When I was 12 or 13, I sang and played trumpet in the church choir. I received all of the "sacraments". I remember tears in my eyes during my confirmation in 8th grade, because I was awed by the seriousness of the ceremony. I remember praying that God would not punish me in elementary school when I scribbled in my religious instruction book. For MONTHS, I was CONVINCED I was going to go to Hell for defacing "sacred" materials.

I have read so many books about the afterlife, and frankly, I do not know what to believe. I have heard that there is no "Heaven" or "Hell", that there are simply higher and lower planes of existence. I kind of like that idea, because I know I have done some things in my life that others say will land me in the fiery pit, and that is somewhere I DO NOT want to be!

I am kind of grateful to my Catholic upbringing for one thing though. All of the times I have thought that I should just end it all, I have stopped because of my fear of burning in Hell. I was taught growing up that suicide was the one sin that was unforgivable, because you could not confess your transgression and receive a "pardon".

Other days though, I think that THIS life is actually Hell. That I committed some horrendous crime in a past life that is causing me to suffer each and every day I am on this Earth. When we die, are we AWARE that we are dead, or do you go onto another plane of existence believing we are very much alive?

Over the years, my perception of organized religion has changed. When I was younger, I believed what I was told to believe by my parents, by the priests, and by the religious instructors. I had questions about why people who followed other faiths were doomed for all eternity, it did not seem fair to me. I wondered how it was possible to believe the biblical story of creation when the scientific evidence clearly proved it wrong.

I stopped going to church when I was 16 and had to work on Sundays. Then, when I went to college, I suffered from a severe depression. I was looking for a place to fit in. So, I attended Campus Crusade for Christ meetings. I tried the local Catholic church. I even joined a bible study group and participated in the services at a local evangelical Christian church for a while (until some of the church members proved to me how biased and ignorant they really were, but that is a story for another time!)

I used to read the words of Mother Teresa. She said on many occasions that there is a God who watches over all of us, but that the people of the world developed different religions to worship the same God simply because of cultural variations. That seemed pretty smart to me, and flew in the face of the "you must be Catholic or you are going to Hell" doctrine I had heard growing up.

For the past few years I have been trying to figure out what I really believe. I DO believe there is a higher power out there, a "God". I believe that Jesus Christ was a good guy, and a social activist, but I DO NOT believe that he was the Son of God. I DO NOT believe the Bible is the "Word of God", particularly because it contains so many contradictory elements. I do not THINK there is actually a Heaven and a Hell, but I am not sure. I DO believe that we live on in some form after our deaths, and that we are eventually reunited with the spirits of our ancestors.

I think the best label to describe me at this point is "deist". I believe in a higher being, a "God" but I do not believe in organized religion. In fact, I tend to believe that 90% of the madness in this world throughout history has been caused by warped interpretations of what and who "God" is.

Every day, I wonder if I am a "good enough" person. I wonder if I am wrong, if there really are such hard and fast rules for salvation as some people believe there are. I wonder what WILL happen to me after I die. But right now, I am not willing to take the chance of finding out any time soon.

The Thin Line Between Sexual Addiction and Just Plain Sluttiness

I decided to repost this one, because everyone was so supportive when it was originally up. I had allowed my feelings to get hurt when I originally posted it, and took it down hastily, but I am reposting in hopes of having someone who needs to hear what I am going through read it! And, maybe even find others who have gone through similar situations and can offer some assistance!



I am constantly seeking love and acceptance. I want to feel like SOMEONE sees me as an important person, even if only for a few hours. Which could possibly be why I seem to be so intent on participating in sexual activity so damn much!

I actually told a friend the other day that I wish I had someone who would touch me, caress me, kiss me and LOVE me. And after I said I wanted someone to love me I added "or at least pretend they do". On other occasions when I have spoken about wanting to feel loved, I have added "at least for a few hours". It seems I am seeking something, a way to fill a void in my life. And, unfortunately, sex often seems to be the best remedy for my empty feelings.

Which wouldn't be so bad if I actually had a steady partner. Instead, I end up allowing a random series of men into my life, into my home, indeed, into my BODY hoping to fill the void. Yes, I am satisfied for a short while, but eventually that feeling of perpetual loneliness returns, and I find myself right back on line seeking my next "fix".

I have always wondered if I was a sex addict. Those questionnaires that are supposed to help you determine the answer are pretty useless. According to some of them, everyone and his uncle is an addict when it comes to sex. But, I do see a lot of "issues" surrounding sex in my life.

1. I feel like I have to keep up to a certain standard regarding the frequency of sex in order to be a "real woman".

2. When I am emotionally stressed, my first thought to relieve the pain I am feeling is to have sex with a random man.

3. I go through periods when I am stimulated only by the thought of being controlled, dominated, and yes, even humiliated during sex.

4. I cannot have a straight male friend without wanting to sleep with him to "prove" my desirability.

5. I become angry and frustrated when someone turns me down sexually.

6. I try to sleep with men who already have women to feel like I am "special" enough for them to risk ruining their relationships.

7. I have ruined friendships in the pursuit of sexual or emotional gratification from a man.

8. And, one that I NEVER thought I would do... I have cheated! (All through my dating life, I prided myself on having always been faithful, and I threw that away a few months ago.

9. I have a problem with self satisfaction (though I enjoyed it when I was younger) because I feel like a desirable woman does not need to resort to masturbation.

10. I have put my personal safety on the line time and time again by bringing strange men into my home, and by not practicing safe sex.

11. I have spend countless hours looking at porn on the internet, or having "cyber sex"

So, now you see me. I am letting it all hang out. Part of me desires a long lasting, truly committed relationship, but another part is constantly seeking the stimulation of a new encounter. I always try to say "I am a good woman" or "I would make a good girlfriend/wife" but at this point, I do not know if I believe all of that. Part of me feels like I need to pursue emotionally unfulfilling sexual experiences to keep from being hurt. I am afraid to REALLY TRULY give myself over to another human being, because the last time I did that, I got hurt. So, sex is the next best thing to intimacy.

Anyway, it is 6 in the morning, I have had no sleep, and this blog has been taking a serious detour into "personal" issues which is not what I intended when I started it. It has gone from a tool of political expression to a place of unburdening myself, and I am not quite sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing.

Have You Ever Wanted Something so Bad it Hurt?

I never knew it was possible to want something so badly that it hurts. Too need something so much that you cannot sleep at night. I have been laying in bed for hours now and sleep is nowhere to be found. My mind will not stop running. I am absolutely obsessed. I cannot think of anything else. It is hard to even type because my body does not want to respond to my commands.

I want to be mother. I cannot imagine living another year without the prospect of having a child. I would walk through fire to have a son or daughter. Every time I think about life as a childless woman, I feel like I want to curl up in a little ball and turn to ashes.

I look at pictures of the children of my friends and it causes me physical pain. When I spend time at my father's house and see his wife's kids with their children, I end up having to leave the gathering, usually in tears. I have NEVER in my life wanted anything so passionately.

People tell me it is the wrong time to have a child, I do not have a career to support a child on my own. But, there are millions of women out there who are able to raise children with less resources than I have currently. While I do not have a high income, it is steady. My rent is a nominal amount. I spend half of my income each month on books and other forms of entertainment. If I cut back on those things, I will be able to support a child. He may not be able to always buy the newest video games or the brand name clothing, but he WILL be clothed and fed. And, even more importantly, he will be loved.

I have so much love to give a child. I have so much I can teach a child. I have always imagined being a PTA mom, going on school field trips with my child, and reading him bedtime stories at night. Even as a teenager, I knew that my ultimate purpose in life was to me a mom. Now, I am 36 years old, and nearing the end of my window of opportunity. And it terrifies me!

I do not want to go through life without a family. I am past the point of needing/wanting a "husband". I will be perfectly happy having a child. As long as the father of my child is in his life, he does not need to be my man.

I cannot sleep tonight because the thought of never having a child is weighing very heavily on my mind. Call me obsessed, but I simply do not want to live a life in which I cannot have a child. I dream about babies when I sleep. I wake up wondering if I will ever be blessed with a child. I go to sleep at night thinking about being a mother.

My mind will not stop. If I cannot have a child, I pray that my life will end. I cannot live without becoming a mother.

Please do not use my comment section to tell me how wrong I am to want a child at this point in life. I feel the way I feel, and no one can stop how I feel, so PLEASE do not try to convince me I am wrong.

A New Religious Endeavor

So, after all of the posts I have made about being a "deist" and having no interest in following any sort of organized religion, I have decided that before I can give up on religion entirely, I want to find out more about what is out there in terms of established religions. I was born Catholic, I went through my "born again" phase, but never went beyond the realm of Christianity. And since I decided I do not believe in the "Holy Trinity" and I DO NOT accept Jesus Christ as my "Lord and Savior", I kind of decided that I would just accept the idea of a "Higher Power" and leave it at that. But, I have always wanted to learn more about OTHER religious traditions, specifically Islam.

One of my pen pals is a Muslim. After writing to him about how I had received a free copy of the Qur'an several years ago, which was subsequently taken from me BEFORE I had the chance to look it over, he offered to teach me what it is that HE believes as a practicing Sunni Muslim since 1978. He said he is going to send me a copy of the version of the Qur'an HE prefers, as well as some study materials. Since I have been interested in learning more about Islam for about 6 or 7 years now, I decided to take him up on his offer.

Now, I may read all of the material he sends me and decide that it does not coincide with my personal belief system. Or, I may study the material and decide that Islam is the appropriate choice for me. I really do not know. But, just as I gave Christianity a chance (well, MANY CHANCES) in the past, I am going to do the same with Islam.

I am going to keep an open mind as I speak with my friend and read the things he sends to me. There is really no harm in learning more about Islam, even if I decide that it is NOT for me. Only good can come from opening my horizons to new information.

The Quintessential Evil Stepmother (aka TAB)

I have a woman who is in my life, NOT AT ALL by choice, but simply because my father is BLIND and cannot see that she is pure evil. I REFUSE to refer to her as "stepmother" because she does not deserve any name that includes "mother" in it, so from here on out, she will be known as TAB. She will not be in my life for much longer, because as soon as I am able, I am cutting off contact with my father and his Trifling Ass Bitch (TAB).It will really improve my circumstances to let go of my relationship with my father, because he is JOINED AT THE HIP with TAB. He married her despite the fact that all three of his daughters BEGGED him not to, and since the day he met her, she has run his life 100%. Wait, let me correct that: her takeover of his life was gradual, but after eight years he does not fart without her permission. So spending time with my father requires spending time with TAB.

The other day, I went to the Dad's house for dinner. Over the past year, I have been asking my father repeatedly to allow me to come visit on an ordinary day, not a holiday (when she and her entire family are around). He kept avoiding extending an invitation, claiming that TAB was too tired to cook for company. Of course, when I offered to cook for them, there was another excuse reason why I was not invited. Meanwhile, her children spend TONS of time over their house!

Anyway, of course when I was at their house the other night, there were about a million ignorant statements spewing from the mouth of TAB that caused me to secretly roll my eyes. But, I kept my mouth shut. Of course, then my sister had to listen to me railing on about TAB for hours yesterday.

At one point I told my father that I wrote a blog in which I often speak about politics. Now, I did not go into details about any of my opinions, because I know she is a rigidly conservative TAB (even though the only things she knows about politics are what her ultra right wing daughter and son and law tell her). Well, as soon as I mentioned the word "politics" she started flapping her arms and telling me loudly "Oh, don't get me started, or there is going to be a problem!" Meanwhile, I had not mentioned a SINGLE issue, I only said that I write about some political issues. And I had NO INTENTION of expounding upon the issue of politics.

Anyway, that was not the worst of what TAB had to say. I was talking to her about the show "Huge" and how it is the only show that I have seen thus far that accurately portrays fat people with dignity and respect. I mentioned that the kids on "Huge" were NORMAL KIDS who just happened to be fat. That they had friends and interests ASIDE FROM food. I mentioned that the kids on "Huge" EVEN DATED.

Then, of course, TAB had to pop up and comment about how the only reason the kids on "Huge" were able to actually FIND romance was because, well, the girls had FAT BOYS around who were willing to date them. Then, when I mentioned the many GOOD LOOKING men I have dated throughout the years, she rolled her eyes, and asked me what my most recent "friend" did for a living. She was in utter shock when I told her that he was a professional, and that he owned his own house. Apparently, us fat chicks are not good enough to date a man who is attractive, and if we do, it is because he is a loser with no prospects in life.

This is not the first time TAB has made comments about the dating prospects for fat women. A few years ago, she made a point to tell me that men want women who look like my sister, who is about 120 pounds soaking wet. When I told her that while not every man is willing to date a fat chick there are many who actually PREFER big girls. OF course, all she did was roll her eyes and sigh.

I do not even know why I let this woman get to me. She is an ignorant TAB. She is a racist pig, and stands for every thing I am opposed to ideologically. I think what upsets me more than anything is that she has taught me A LOT about my father. When my mother was alive, my father was a loving, caring, open minded individual. Now, he is a narrow minded, pussy whipped fool who prefers TAB's family over his own daughters. So, hopefully soon, I will be able to accept the fact that my father is no longer the man who raised me, the man who I always loved, and who loved me. He is a stranger now, thanks to TAB. And the sooner I realize it the better!

I Like the Way it Hurts

I have been obsessing over this song ALL DAY. It must have played on the radio about 10 times today when I was running errands, and it caused an almost visceral reaction in me. I do not know why, but when I fantasize about a relationship, it is usually an extremely volatile one. Not that I would REALLY want to be in an abusive relationship, but for some reason, in the deepest realms of my mind I seem to associate dominance, jealousy and aggression with love.

When I meet a "nice" guy who treats me like a princess and really cares about me, I tend to push him away when I am at my sickest. And I gravitate towards the man who cannot love me the way I SHOULD want to be loved.

When I was 20, I had a brief experience with a man who laid his hands on me. It terrified me, but I went back to him the next day. And, every moment that we were together was filled with anxiety. A few weeks later, he hurt me again. And, I got away and never saw him again.

But, realistically, I know that if it had not been for my family keeping him away from me, it would have only been a matter of time before I went running back to him. And when he told me that him hitting me was proof that he cared, I believed him. For years after, I thought about this man, wishing that I could have been with him, but grateful that my family kept me from going back to him.

Now, I tend to gravitate towards men who are controlling and abusive. Now, I do not mean physically abusive (although if it came to that, in the state I am in right now, my feelings of "love" would override my common sense, particularly with one individual who I fantasize every day about being with)

For some reason, with a certain man, it excites me to be chastised, yelled at and insulted. I do not mean that I enjoy it at the moment, but I find myself gravitating more and more towards him the worse he treats me. I actually met a REALLY GREAT guy earlier this year who adored me, and told me so all the time, yet I could not commit to him because I was entranced with the controlling, domineering guy.

Now, I am not ALWAYS like this. I go through phases where I want to be dominated and controlled, and then I go back to "normal" and start looking for a man to love and respect me.

Someone once told me that every woman needs three men in her life: the romantic, the super stud and the gay best friend. Me, I need two men, one who will spoil me and love me, and one who will dominate me. Wouldn't live be perfect if I could find a man who was an amalgamation of both???

PS--- This song must really intrigue me, because normally I do not like Eminem. At all.