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It seems witches are replacing the mermaid craze in trend lemming chicks. All this bru-hahah! And oh, lemme insert this into a band name! Itās timeless! Yāok! Suddenly theĀ āCraft,ā movie has a new following. It seems everyone is so pre-occupied in being someone else. Everyone, anyone seems like a better alternative, right?!
Oh, let me just pretend Iām a Dodo bird or any other extinct or mythical creature! Unicorns are the new snowflakes. Every upcycle on pop trends just irks me. When will it beĀ ācool,ā to care and be a kind human being?! When will people examine their lives and arrive at reasons for their being. It seems I walk next to a centaur fused with a platypus and whatever new item that raisesĀ peopleās heads up from their phones. Oh but I donāt. People just push their version of,Ā āshock value,ā for a double take, a head turn, anything selfie-able to record somewhere in someoneās mind, howĀ āunique,ā they are. How about we go back to how common kindness should be !? Be unique in doing it! Make a twitter account for Kindness and create a crowd fund account and always pay into it!? Thatās timeless! Thatās sexy! So popularize it!Ā
Today is Mexican Motherās Day (5/10/17). I miss my Mom. Weāve had a conflictual relationship all my life but I think Menopause helped her to calm down somewhat. Today is the only day that Iām cool with chicks calling me a Mamacita (Hot girl who is not a Mother, itās also said in other contexts but not today). My Mom put me in private school and what I take away from my Christian education is the missionary work. I really enjoyed helping to feed orphans in Tijuana and thatās where my kind (my tribe) of kind started. I laterĀ built homes in Americorps for Habitat for Humanity, feed the Homeless on my home front, made military care packages, tithed and raised money for underdeveloped countries and missionary scholarships. My Mom instilled in me that no matter how much you have, someone will always have less and to humble myself and be grateful for the clean water, electricity, food and miscellaneous add ons that I have.Ā
I used to be into fashion and was very creative with textiles (my grandma was a seamstress and my uncle a fashion designer in L.A). I used to spend money frivolously on fine dining, clothes, technology and travel. I donāt really care about those things anymore. They lost their luster. I still see the appeal to it but Iām more transfixed on souls now. Being a Christian, we always strived to improve and be asĀ āChrist like,ā as possible. Now I see it as, the best version of ourselves, our highest good. I never like to ask for money but I was required to for a suicide prevention event Iām volunteering for. I put my goal at a meager $25 and two donors advanced me at reaching my goal at 240% I cried. I cried because I do not ask for help because I feel I have to be self sufficient and because people have let me down more times than my heart is willing to forget and then a stranger gives and a friend I am not close to. That friend was with me on the few times I wanted to commit suicide, myself so it just added to my flow of tears.Ā
In just writing this, I am remembering how much God has blessed me and even though I feel victimized very often (latest is someone breaking into our rent drop box to steal resident checks and my co-worker reaching into my bag and stealing my medical gloves and grinching the gloves from their designated box), I need to remember that he has always stood in to protect me. Like clockwork, the moon lines up to my moon (my menses) and my emitted pheromones run very high. Past lovers contact me and guys (even from their cars) cat call and try their primitive mating tactics on me.Ā
I had a blog here 4 years ago and I learned of nympho ninjas through here and well, tumblr is mainly used in that way now; for porn but thatās not what NN is. A friend from L.A had made mention that my hyperlink to my tumblr on my Instagram was broken and when was I going to re-activate it again? Since Iāve felt the need to get a lot off my bouncing Bust! I re-activated one. I didnāt think anyone but that friend who see this because IG is like a scroll of picture slideshow. I mean, who visits the page unless they want to add you?! Well, my old spirit guide did and was offended. He didnāt like me taking up tantra with someone new. Iāve had 2 tantric twins. Tantra transcendence is not something you go into, it calls you and it originally did not involve sexual involvement. You canāt carry it out with just anyone. I communicate with him in ESP like that handful of other individuals I have this ability with. I was upset at first because I felt like he was making my blog about him. Iām not writing to anyone. Itās dead air or space and I have typos and just write as fast as I think it. Still, I feel compelled to go to a different blog hosting site like word press or something. Iām censored on FB by my Mom and family. I canāt post just anything on IG bc I have my sister-in-law and some co-workers on there. I just wanted to have a platform where I could freely not be filtered. Iām kind of over Instagram now that everyone and their Mom is on there. I kind of liked it when I had it more to myself. I stumbled on,Ā āEllo,ā and I think I might dwell there instead. Sometimes going against the grain feels better. When too many have caught on to what youāve been a part of for years, I just want to let it go, let them have it and start anew, somewhere else.Ā
I feel a little weird with the amount of people from my past that I was in contact with today. I texted my ex husband after 7 months of no contact. It was refreshing that his response was as I expected. That guy always had a way of creating levity in darkness. I miss the me (not all aspects but, the merriment of our adventure back then) I was with him and I miss a few former flames often enough. I used to feel this way about my brothers when they took up partners but then they had children and now I donāt miss my childhood with them so much because it extended through their kids. My Mom said that she told my 3 y.o nephew that his tia (aunt) came to visit him. He didnāt register that she meant past tense so he roamed the halls shouting for me, looking around each bend. That melted my heart. I have immense, unconditional love for my twin nieces and nephew. To them, I am a fun, taller child who plays piano, takes them on park outings in the radio flyer, stacks lincoln logs and legos with them, plays hide and go seek (under their game changer rules). I do these activities with them but even in stillness when they rest on my lap and I read or when they eat in their high chair and I feed, they stop and look at me and smile. They see my soul and they are tender in a hiccup laugh that follows. Their little hands reach for mine because they think theyāre the strongest, they look at me and think Iām perfect,Ā that Iām important and they see my arms as strong enough to hold them but gentle enough to sway their discomfort away. Ā They see in me what I donāt see in myself and still I gravitate toward them, not for the appraisal within those actions, but because I love them for no reason and they love me without reason. Neither of us have to, we just do.Ā
The Disney,Ā āDumbo,ā clip,Ā āBaby Mine,ā song always makes me a blubbering mess over it. Since first viewing it, at 4, the Circus was not something I wanted to patronize and my affinity of elephants expanded from there. I used to have an ele-friend. I donāt now. I just realized how therapeutic these entries have been. Itās as if Iāve fast tracked my suffocated down tears to flow again. I think Iāve cried at some point with every entry. For some reason, this medium is where Iām being called to be in and since I donāt want to offend people, I will vacate premise and take up a new home (undisclosed) but I just need to keep doing this. I need to keep writing from my soul. It recalibrates me. For these, Iām not a grammar girl, my run ons and inappropriate placements of punctuation and typos go, anything goes! Iām not a victim ofĀ āForced PC,ā here. I can accept my thoughts as I read them and thatās the only affirmation and validation I need. This is a film projector for me and the reel is my writing. Here, I am me and readers donāt have to like it, they can back off my blog. Itās not that Iām bullied to leave. I think I may be exposing myself too much if people I know really are visiting this. They donāt know these thought patterns or sides to me. I donāt owe anything to my old spirit guide. Maybe itās because Iām tired or (insert whatever other speculation here) but I just donāt give a fuck anymore. Iām not sayingĀ āNo more nice girl,ā or no to being nice. That stays. Iām saying that I donāt care anymore. To the person who texted me that has this link, No! I donāt want to fuck you! Itās been a year and 1/2 and it was once and it was not what I had in mind. You: āWhat happened to our friendship and love?āĀ āI miss going out for Rocky Road ice cream at 2 am!ā Me:Ā āYou were more of an acquaintance, there was no love.āĀ I pined for you 3 years before that and you were,Ā ātoo cool,ā and then through the course of time, I realized who you were and was turned off. Youāre 24! Just go away!Ā
I donāt read these intrapsychic interferences like a radar, more like an EKG that I want to go flatline. To Daniel Son, DAAAAMMMNNN Daniel! I donāt have to know where I stand with you and vice versa. It doesnāt matter anymore. There was a lot of destruction that canāt be undone and I donāt have energy for trying anything with anyone anymore. My time is my own. I donāt even have energy for the last person I loved. The only thing I show up for now are my nieces and nephews. Even though theyāre energy consumers, they synergistically give me life. We mutually enliven each other. Thatās the only love concerning me right now (not that itās any of your business). I donāt owe you an explanation but there is one thatās beyond your interpretation. Iām not boy crazy. I can say I miss my past but I donāt carve out time for it in my present. I move in upward strokes like the salmon. I write about it because it lessens the experience that it was and I let go more and more, each time. I welcome in the new positivity that will take over and I rid of past strife.Ā
Yeah, Iām not a fan of lurkers, stalkers, trolls and voyeurs and in just knowing thereās an audience, it creates this bias, as if Iām writing for a show.Ā āOn the next season of Melissaās life...ā Yeah, fuck that noise! Iām not a bitch, I might be numb and apathy might be setting in but I think I need to remain in that state for a while. I feel too intensely that it burns out. I live between the polarity of loving/caring too much and just not giving a fuck. I donāt have a middle ground right now. Iām a little scattered and kind of secretly wish that Scooby Doo Fred would give me a hug and haunt me again. He was the last person I was with that felt to the same intensity and frequency, what I did but the hug would be more for him. Iām not boy crazy, I just feel small sometimes in the vast infinity continuum that is my head. I donāt have the headspace for half the shit that tools around in there and half less the heart space for it. Because of this, sometimes my heart time travels to bookmarks, saving the place where I was held and felt safe and saw them as perfect.
My heart is cold like an ice cave, the arteries stalagmites. My feelings are frostbitten. I am making this period of time what I need it to be for me. I will unlearn, like the magic of oxytocin allows. I will live out goals from my heart center (love list). My days are great but more will fuse on and in plural, they will be great again. When I am open, I will love again and my soulmate will be as ready for me as I him. There is a voice in me that hears all the collective compliments Iāve received on my eloquence in writing, my skill at it and in a small way, it make me feel big.Ā
Love is fluid. My friend told me today,Ā āI need to fully love myself!ā I replied,Ā āI donāt think thatās a thing, I mean you canāt be yourself 24/7 and your needs change and you adapt to the wave forecast that is the ocean of life!ā She wrote back,Ā āOh, thatās true!ā I donāt know if anyone is fully themselves at any given time, given our influences. I just feel that we do have an authentic self and an ideal self and we tend to overlap the two in balance but more commonly live in one domain and itās usually theĀ āideal self,ā (this is not who you are but who you project yourself to be, some traits can carry over but itās not really you). The authentic self is something every philosopher and abstract thinker has pondered on. Ben Franklin says,Ā āThere are three things extremely hard: steel, a diamond and to know oneās self.ā
I like the girl on her bike, sheās badass, I like the girl with the cat, Neechee, the girl who takes on challenges and new adventures, the girl who pays into her health through many fields and avenues, the girl who loves wholeheartedly, even with the risk of non reciprocation. I love the girl in me who is a feminist and brave the boys in ways most girls donāt step up to. I love the girl in me who feels energies and can measure auraās and determine whether the person is spirit decayed. I love the bookworm girl who sways on her hammock with a page turner and is transported there, bringing life to the text. I love the girl who is a woman but feels mostly like a girl because she is playful, witty, funny and kind with that girl like innocence. I love the woman in me that can be a woman but also an archer and tap into my divine femininity. I love the hips that can gyrate into figure eights and undulate in belly dance. I love my legs that choreograph my steps and out dance the floor mass, I love my arms that extend warm embraces and contain. I love the lips that feel around taste like a blind man in the dark and land on bliss. I love my kaleidoscope eyes that can transfix on fire and subdue men. I love my sexual parts too. I love my sensitive breasts that comfort with their volume and surrender to stimulation. I love my bowed bottom that is positioned below my Aphrodite dimples. I love my dendrite, pulse point and erogenous zones. I love me on a cellular level, not all the time and not all at once but in this roll call, I see the snapshot and I do love me from the inside out and I keep this in mind daily. I may not fully love myself because I donāt think one can fully know one self but Iām working on continuing as a love luminary and knowing that I can be all these adjectives and more but when I can love myself for no reason, perhaps I have loved fully.Ā
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Fetishism on a Full Moon
I was on the subject of kink clubs with my two Chinese co-workers. I love those ladies. They are very cerebral and I feel intellectually fed when I talk to them so I always get off on hump days, at least brain stimulation wise. I asked them if they get the whole Full Metal Jacket reference, one did and the other did not. One was bothered by it and the other was above the opinion of others. Iāve been told myself by my Anglo counterparts that I am exotic looking which made me immediately feel compared to a Macaw from South America. Iāve been called a fiery spitfire, a hot tamale, the iconic curvy Latina, the sexy Spaniard, you name it. I often live in a margin, afraid to come out because I find a lot of men predatory. So I peek my head out and force myself, even when unsafe if need be because I am often alone and have no choice. My inner guard dog snarls at them at a molecular level. My spirit becomes snowed in and then I spent the whole next day shoveling an entrance out.Ā
Weird happenings have always occurred to me and the more so on full moons. Maybe it is the she wolf in me. I will howl tonight in attempt to connect with my spirit animals for protection. My spirit friendās are the crow and the elephant. I know I have others in there too but my spirit healer said I need to connect to my heart chakra more and that is where they will be revealed..in dreams, visions and visitations. The crow is always visiting me and I thought that it was a SoCal thing but the crow does not speak to all. It is a tempestuous animal, like myself, highly selective when it decides to be social and the social aspect having to be centered around something more meaningful than small talk.Ā
Aquarians enjoy authentic, intellectually stimulating conversations. I have often said that I cannot meet someone where they have not met themselves. My friend, Tony cut out on me. A couple days ago he said,Ā āJust when I thought you were cool, you go on diagnosing me!ā like a capricious child. I like Tony but he is a man child. He spends his whole day high, always in a mental fog in it and outside the bounds of reality. He is 30 and still lives with his Mom who caters to him and babyās him. I donāt respect him for that and it also triggers me because my kid brother is spoiled in the same way. Tony has never had a relationship and does not know how to cultivate one. He plays games. He deleted me on Facebook on an impulse whim, he did the same for his Dad who didnāt agree on something he posted. I donāt like FB for the reason that my Mom tries to control me even there. After several requests were shot down, I finally gave in and added her and after 6 years, she feels she can tell me what to post and she misinterprets things. She will always see me as a child she can control and since Iāve been an outlier to that for some time, she tries to secure portals of loopholes that will grant her access to having a say in my life.Ā
Back to Tony...I met him at work, three years ago. He said he felt like a Frankenstein and I was the fair maiden he couldnāt figure out why, would talk to him. In the Maxx comic book series, my ex (Fred from Scooby Doo, yes, I was his Daphne) said that he was the Maxx and I was the daintily feminine blonde. These guys have felt like monsters and have low self image and worth. Tony said he wanted to be a chef on a cruise ship and be gone for 8 months out of the year. he said I was his only friend here. That made me sad. Heās working two jobs again. He immerses himself in over working because he avoids living outside of an institutionalized kitchen. His Dad left when he was 3. He feels hyper vulnerable when he puts himself in a position of susceptible rejection. He asked me last Thursday if I wanted to smoke and watch Star Wars (it was May the 4th) and I said I couldnāt because I was en route to Hot Yoga (on my bike). He flat out felt dejected and lashed out in the days that ensued for this declination. A week earlier I asked if he wanted to go to the local bar we go to after work and he denied with hefty,Ā āNope!ā and later added the,Ā āCanāt do it, smalls,ā for the softening effect. I didnāt get butt hurt over it. Tony was getting into Buddhism and introspection and I was really proud of him, especially since he did so in a position of vulnerability (he quit his job and had $2 to his name). It was at this point in time where I felt his heart chakra saw across to mine and he was disciplining himself to not smoke and not smoke with staff and be,Ā āmore serious,ā about life. A couple weeks after, he went back to his old ways and started smoking with staff because he said they called him a snob who kept to himself when he wasnāt smoking and because itās a social lubricant for him, he extended theĀ āpeace,ā pipe to them and instantly changed their perception of him in their eyes.Ā
I visited Tony at his restaurant on my bike. I saw him in the line of cooks, through the window. With hand gestures, I signaled one of the main cooks to flag him down for me, he thought I was flirting with him. I made an arm silhouette of aĀ ābig, tall guy,ā and right at that moment, Tony turned, catching me pretty much with my arm outline of an ogre, lol. His kitchen staff asked him who that cute girl was. I donāt know what he told them but he confuses our friendship for more than it is. I like his comic book side and I used to be able to talk to him. I canāt anymore. He told me a man approached him, asking if he wanted him to mentor him. Tony was weirded out. The man asked,Ā āOn a scale of 1-10, with 10 being best, how satisfied are you with your life?ā Tony answered with a solid 8. I said to Tony that he had a blockage. I said this because I was tired to Tony running away from his emotions and now mine. I tried to sit with him over tacos and open up but Tony was a ticking clock. I felt rushed and heavy, with my emotion caving in my chest like an anvil. I donāt know if he had any idea but to be rushed along like that sucked. It would have been better that he stayed home, over me sharing some heartfelt things and him pushing them down some assembly belt, only to never come back to them. So, this is my issue with Tony. He lacks intimacy that I need to maintain a friendship. I canāt be faked out to someone who is in denial about themselves (faking their own selves out). I donāt buy it. Iām too keen on my own authentic self to not be able to spot out who is not their authentic self. Aquarians revel in genuine relationships. We are genuine, warm hearted people. Most Aquarians I knew were like me, independent, creative, artist types with big hearts.
Iām reading,Ā āThe Brain that Changes Itself.ā In it, I read that oxytocin is something we need to partner up and be able to shift and meld in compatibility to our partner. The other side of Oxytocin (according toĀ āPsychology Todayā) is that it can promote envy and self boasting. Well, Oxytocin helps us to unlearn so, for example, I was devalued, shamed, and abused in my formative college years in my cumulative relationships. Oxytocin raises the bar for me so each new relationship I take on was better than their predecessor. Oxytocin helps soften or eliminate trauma so that one can love again, as if they have never been hurt. I always wondered why I was like this, thinking all the while I was a doormat to abuse. My first boyfriend and I were going into anal sex for the first time. I wasnāt for it because we were Christians and anal (think Ali G interviewing Posh Spice) was still considered taboo and lewd back then, even though it was a loophole toĀ āremain,ā a vaginal virgin. I just remember my first bf saying with revelry,Ā āIāve never done this before!ā As if it was some kind of virgin island he encroached upon by accident and was going to name and post a flag pole in. I hadnāt either. He knew that but he didnāt keep my shared truth in mind, it was as if it was all about him and for him and so there I was at table top, all fours and then I collapse into cow pose. When I felt the pain and his overwhelming hype of having to get me drunk on a very hot day to have gotten that far with me was where I felt my spirit unyoke from me.Ā
My soul was on the ceiling and I was watching the experience from a disassociated front seat, not interjecting, just helplessly observing as if it was someone else because in my heart, this would never be me, more precisely, at least never, carried out in this way. This wasnāt my first disassociation but it was the most dramatic and it was the abolishment of a lot of,Ā āfirsts,ā that day. Since an exorcism took place downstairs, my car was broken into (all my modeling portfolio from Suicide Girls and some amateur takes and my paintings and high end studio clothes, robbed) and I witnessed a young boy overdose from heroin in an abandoned car (needle in his arm) and there were fired gunshots, I was trying to collect myself against events that traumatized me on many and different levels. Sometimes I think that I went through too much at once or over time that my tolerance threshold is so low that the slightest degree below optimal could catapult me into crisis. Sometimes my hormones play into that. I wouldāve liked sex to have started out different for me but I canāt undo that. I did one take of EMDR and it softened the very cathartic frozen memory for me. That first boyfriend recently found me on FB and tried to add me. Even though me and him had gone through novels of usual event to befall on coupleās and still survive, we didnāt. He changed and I changed after that. He tried to come back into my life for years after but once someone closes the threshold, I am like the floating spirit, disassociated from them. I am there but unreachable.Ā
Once someone has done enough/too much or I have, they are gone to me. My soul no longer recognizes them, much in the way that a foreign organ transplant will not take or in the case of animals, a mother ewe will not recognize a baby lamb that is not her own. She will however, if she is injected with oxytocin. I donāt think I will respond with as many injections of Oxytocin and while simultaneously on theĀ ālove,ā drug (ecstasy). There is a part of me that gives up and shuts down. I just stop trying and once that is established, I will never be the same toward the person again. This is why I try to make it easy for people and give them my cheat sheet to my coding but they are lax and unmoved and donāt respect my plea to take it seriously until itās too late. Ā I see my ex husbandās YT channel and his tag labels me as,Ā āwife.ā men donāt tend to acknowledge a loss until much later than a woman. I feel like they are out of touch with their emotions and live in denial to a large extent.Ā
My old spirit guide texted me today with the words,Ā āYou do deserve a healthy relationship,āĀ āsounds like you miss your ex because you wrote that you two have unfinished business.ā I didnāt know he read my blog. I write here the way people who transition from a warm building out into the cold outside comment on the weather (saying the observation to self or aloud to whomever ears it falls on but with no attempt for attention). IĀ do miss him and I probably will for a while. I miss elements of him and who he was. Like me, his executive functioning was compromised. He had poor word recall. I even noticed that he would trip on curbs...something with his gross motor. He had good intention but would overcommit to ideas or in offering to lighten your load because his follow through (like ADD me) was poor. Both of us would have to change the plasticity of our brain and itās mapping for a relationship to work. We would need outside help because our internal supervision can be poor.Ā
Most of me feels, with great sadness, that it is a loss cause. I gave him too many chances, only for him to intensify his retention in his ritualistic ways. this gave to minimal relief for me because I have rituals as an Ocelot but they did not impair a relationship in the ways a bachelor who fears commitment and only reinforces his bachelor behavior, does.Ā
My new spirit healer asked me out to dinner. Iām kind of intimidated by him, not just because heās obscenely attractive but mainly,Ā because heās so knowledgeable. For only being 29, he has a prestigious career in Oncology and helps people and offers pro-bono reiki. We like each otherās eyes. Iām scared to enter into something with him. I know heās a Tantric and things have already gotten quantum with him, upon our first meeting. I felt like I had met him before. Ā I guess I need to inventory myself but he helps me. I feel like we were communicating to each other telepathically before we even met because I felt something move within me when I picked up his business card at juice crafters. He said he had not even placed business cards there. That was the weirdest thing. I think the Universe aligned us for some reason (unknown to me yet). He fascinates me in the way something on the tip of your tongue does. Itās that intrigue where you donāt know what to call it but it feels familiar and you know you know what it is somehow. It will Ā be revealed to me. All I know is that I feel safe with him, like heās a guardian angel and there is no animal lust. We respect each other, as if we only see our souls and not the encasement, though we love each otherās eyes.
I will make a meditation schedule as he advised and I will howl at the moon tonight. Today some things have fallen into place and I will let the rest lie where they lie.
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The Ocelot & the Spider
I am the Ocelot (itās closely sounding, consonants wise to what I go through) and the Spider (is his,Ā āGambit/NolanāsĀ issue, mnemonic). So, I know what I come with and I had my break down 7 years ago and have actively sought solutions and submitted to treatment over it.Ā
Yesterday I discovered that a co-worker went through my purse and stole gloves out of my personal bag and the gloves were there because they were going missing by various staff who for some reason attack what I hold dear. I feel Iām pretty open about what I am willing to share but after some seasoned fuck started trumping my territory for his own gain, it was war. I closed off stuff and tried to conceal it. Then some new chick started labeling all her shit bc disrespectful people were taking supplies off her desk and misplacing or using them up, so I got into that practice but they crossed the line when I tightly wound something in a bag and it still was riding the,Ā āpass the potato,ā wave.Ā
Anyway, this co-worker (I am told by the other staff, is a hoarder). Itās not uncommon for aĀ piece of a lawn mower to show up in my cabinet because of this guyās overflow. His locker is filled to the brim. He even tried to recycle the saran wrap on his plate from the cafeteria, even though it was all oily and soiled. So he has a hardcore crush on me and got me this chair and now I see that it came with strings attached because when he saw a picture of Gambit and me, he stewed over. He collects patient trays and cutlery and shoves it in my cabinet. He does the whole,Ā āI will sniff māladyās handkerchief because it has her scent/touch trail on it,ā with those gloves he rummaged through my purse and shelf for!?! Iām sorry but I think this dood is fucked up and even though Iām an Ocelot, I respect peopleās boundaries and rights and I donāt hold them to the standard of my type of Ocelot, even if theyāre one themselves and have a better understanding of what being one is like.Ā
I just feel pretty discouraged because, even though being an Ocelot at my job can go under the radar, I am seeing that it is for all the other,Ā ācrazy,ā critter kind too and weāre all affecting and impacting each other, not to mention the horrible prejudice and bias that exists at my job placement. If youāre not a certain ethnicity, you get doors slammed in your face, no matter your credentials. Because of this, upper management is not on your side when it comes to troubleshooting or simple solutions, like buying lockers for staff belongings because I work at a psych ward. Now, Iām seeing that staff has the same likelihood/potential as trespassing your rights as patients.
Along those lines, Iām tired of letting people off the hook. In my last relationship, it seemed like things were overlooked on account of a,Ā ātechnicality.ā I call and even he called it for the bullshit it was. The guy before him cried wolf too many times too. Iām over my relationship with Spider Gambit, and over most of him. I didnāt like how he would chew things over and then spit them out at the end and blame it on Hinds sight. He had this roll call of things that didnāt sit well with him, like calling me bizarre over me getting up abruptly because it felt that we were playing at Knightās of the Round Table (as children do) more than getting to getting it on. With Spiderās..some can startle with sudden moves like that because a startle reaction in their constant threat environment was a warning signal that something was about to go down (I didnāt know that at the time or even know if itās accurate for him). In any case, itās not warranting of calling someone bizarre. I think his reaction was bizarre to it. Even King Arthur knew Guinevere would betray him but he chanced it. He didnāt go back to here once it was confirmed. I canāt keep covering up for people. Just because I understand the reasons behind the behavior, it doesnāt make the behavior right. Like the co-worker; GambitāsĀ āSpider,ā syndrome was impacting the relationship.Ā
The relationship wasnāt suffering but I was. Iām a very animated person and he is not. He does not emote much. I donāt emote because my humor is deadpan and Iām avoidant of people but I have a wide range of emotions I can experience in one solo minute. Iām a very sensitive person and know how to be delicate with people because of it. He tripped out on me because I was coming down on my period and I cracked a smile after an emotional disarray had occurred. I smiled, not because it was the calm after the storm, I smiled because he did and he did not do that often. I realized I was growing inward and losing my expressions. I donāt think he knew I was and it wasnāt his intentions but I tend to pick up energies so positivity brings me up (like all or most) and because he didnāt outwardly express that often (like a child with autism), I was disconnecting from myself and mismatching was I was feeling with how it was supposed to look (like a child with autism).Ā
Being with him often felt like being with a depressed person and eventually that takes itās toll and brings you down. Because I loved him, I overlooked it, justifying in ways like,Ā āWell, Iāll rule in his suspended state of perma-boredom over him being overly jealous and possessive like has been the case with most of my boyfriends.ā Even with this trade off, I was losing sight of myself. I was happy with him. I felt fulfilled most when we cuddled and had long, elaborate conversations but most of his passion was fueled by frustration or anger and so I did not see many sides to him beside that one. In my research, I find that Spiders resulted as loners and prefer it now so it warned against trying to have a relationship with one because, though itās an honor that they got thus far with you, itās not exactly a privilege, especially when it takes someone determined to go after someone who will never chase after you. This would mean that I would have to carry the relationship because they are wired to carry one in the terms that average couples do. They try but they feel discomfort in doing so and because we are programmed to avoid discomfort and fear, like a procrastinator, they will never feel like doing it but like all of us, missing the motivation, it involves a decision to just do it somehow and that is drive enough. Spiderās social life declines dramatically with age. Many end up entirely alone and because the Spider syndrome usually shows up in young adulthood, he may have had not long with it but even less to do something about it. I guess the fixer rescuer in me wanted to save him from this because even if heās not with me, I donāt want him to die alone. I just see that as sad for myself but Spiders are and can be content with that.
If I saw myself dying as an Ocelot, I saw me growing old and dying with his Spiderhood and pulling that off in an arrangement that weād both be comfortable in. I guess itās time for me to stop envisioning that Iāll always be doomed as an Ocelot in a Honeybadger world. I need to see that I can live without it and not die to or from it. I need to see this for myself and know that I can have a healthy relationship as an Ocelot and not as one. I deserve a healthy relationship.Ā
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Notes from the Underbelly
On my introversion...Well, first off, I feel I must insert the disclaimer that I am treating this blog as parts of my autobiographic manuscript, a lonerās manifesto of sorts. Four years ago, I had a blog here and a surprising amount of followers. Today, I donāt care if anyone sees this, well maybe one or two daring souls because feedback is sometimes nice. I will have to learn how to correct my typos and add flair later but for now, itās 2 am and Iām on what I call,Ā āmanic menstruation mode,ā itās where I canāt sleep and often have rapid cycling thoughts, sometimes scribomania (example being here).Ā
I recently realized a month ago that I am avoidant of people. I hide if I hear my neighbors opening their door at the same time or walking down the hall. There is an urgency in me to not be seen. I think it stemmed from hiding from my Father during his famous rages. He was one for emotional cannibalism and I was trimmed of all the fat I could give. The image of young Jenny from Forest Gump (minus the molesty part) was me. There was no incest but what took itās place was an emotional predatory incest (a family that fed on itself). I was always on the lookout, always dodging, always in trouble and made like a tree, with no sudden moves.Ā
I realized that Iām hiding from the world because it was ingrained in me that I was not safe in it. I must be a cataclysmic, walking catastrophe with orbs of negative energy encircling my aura. Well, at least that what the education my Father ushered into my life. I try to connect if itās that I feel that I should not receive attention or acknowledgement because I reside in the shadows where I was appointed. My neighbors to the left of me violate a lot of the home associationās rules and the main lady of the house would bug eyed gawk at me. She has a mole on her chin that most would depict on a witch. She scared me once in the laundry room when she appeared, silent as desertion, glaring and moving her head in an orbital half rotation, like adjusting the aperture on your camera she zoomed in on me and freaked me the fuck out. The whole family walks as if you live in their dominion. The Dad would pollute his cigarettes like confetti and leave openings for non residents to sneak into the property (I live parallel to an alley with a lot of drug activity and schizoās doing tae kwon do to the wind and banshee shouting their ails). One day the ladyās granddaughter left a non sensical note on my door and I showed it to the lady. She then ordered the girl in, with no time off for redeemed behavior (little girl vandalizes and has a booming boy voice thatās never ends). That was when the family backed off from me, because now they figured, I had something on them, confirmed. All their suspicious, hyper vigilant paranoid gazes now stopped but after all that, I still avoid seeing them again and I race to the elevator every time a neighbor parks at the same time I do. Iām a single person, surrounding by these rule breaking thugs who stuff immigrant family members in their house like a Christmas stocking and ride the Welfare system, with continuos hand outs and pay a rent of 1/4 of mine for a 2-3 bedroom because they have a family size of +1 !!!
Anyway, this plays into my attachment style too. I have aĀ āpre-occupied,ā attachment style. Iām not sure what that means. I interpret it to mean that I usually see myself through the eyes of someone else (my therapist calls this co-dependent). Iām also a therapist and say, no, while I do have co-dependent traits, I donāt enable behaviors and donāt exist for other people, even though the servitude I was force nominated into (with being caretaker to my Mom who is in a toxic masculinity relationship, to which it became physically abusive) would tell you otherwise. Maybe I was primed this way and it gives me a special skill set to work and serve the underserved and wounded but since career takes up the same amount or more of your sleep life, wouldnāt that be a set up for someone like me to date and attract client like material? Donāt get me wrong, Iām a consumer to mental health myself. I would like to eliminate the use of the word,Ā ādisorder,ā and replace it with something more accurate like,Ā āHey, change your neuroplasticity and youāre good to go!ā or deficit, deviate _x_ amount of degrees to left on negative side of spectrum (well thereās that word, negative). I donāt know, I can only speak for myself and it doesāt sit well with me to be,Ā ādisordered.ā It reminds me of musical chairs, fun game sifting and shifting and sorting through a line up of people, till the seat is pulled from under you and now you have added the disorder, when the system involved chaos.Ā
Either way, this is not to identify myself as a victim. I noticed that when people leave (like in a job) and they were one of the many people that I could connect with on a deeper level, I suffer the loss. I actually mourn them. The landscape changes and suddenly, my job becomes something Iām reporting to instead of engaging in. I donāt take well to change but change has itās way of making you adapt, whether youāre ready to or not. This is another reason I hide. The people that instilled life in me took off and so I feel abandoned for something better and I feel empty, not as filled as when they graced the campus with their presence. I work on de-personalizing things and de-sensitizing myself. Iām afraid I donāt have it down to a science yet. I operate in two extremes, 1) Youāre in my line of view or 2) Youāre not. I guess that can sound arrogant, cold or detached but Iām none of those things. On the contrary, if I like you, I can exude too much, I can be too giving and attentive and devote and it can be off-putting. Once I have tried in relationships to the point of where the person amputated my feelings for them, I canāt come back. For example, if I give people,Ā āanother shot and then another... well one of us ends up metaphorically dead.ā As in my romantic relationships. Once I tired and gave it my all and the person activates on the cycle of insanity (dong the same thing over and over, expecting different results), I may still love them but itās an altered love, a frugal one that used to see the as a full and bright picture and now they are dimmed and dusty. I donāt like this in me. Like a Borderline, I can idealize and devalue a person. It just goes back to my boundary and limit setting. If Iāve put in too much effort an practically carried the relationship, I might build resentment so week one of,Ā ātrying to work things out, a.k.a the end times,ā might have me making up excuses for their behavior, softening up their unaccountability and putting in the work to land at solutions. Week 2 or 3 rolls around and I lose interest (thanks AD/HD) and feel almost taken advantage of, victimized because my efforts were not enough to prevent the relationship from suffering. I attribute this thinking pattern to the role my Mom put me in. From the age of 14 to 17, she vented and justified my Dadās abusive behavior, I would sing her praises and raise her self esteem to where it should have been, only to her going straight back to him after all the work I put in (yes, I was parentified). Here was a women, eldest of 8 children who incessantly complained of a robbed childhood, doing the same to her daughter. SO yes! I have issues with trusting women because like my Mother, many girls who confided in me repeated similar patterns and I just dropped the drama entirely. I hide from girls now. I was raised with two brothers. My older brother raised me and I raised my younger one because t.v. took precedence to everything for my Dad who was supposed to be watching us while his wife worked two jobs to sustain her suburban life with her material possessions.Ā
Because my older brother was funny, drew, liked Legos, He-Man, GI Joe, Thundercats and all things cool, I confided in him. I even jumped in his bed when I couldnāt sleep (Star Wars sheets). I idolized him. He was protective over me (we had neighbor boys and I had the biggest crush on the one that was his best friend). The one that was my age came off as a sissy and was babied by his Mom who wanted a girl but stopped attempted after 3 boys. I loved my older brother. People thought we were twins, like,Ā āEscape to Witch Mountain.ā He was alpha. He had the toys, he had the baseball cards to trade and the Lacoste shirts to tote. The boys flocked to him and I was in there with that cluster. Boys haze you. I was hazed into being accepted into their group and they would give me the girl figurines even though I really liked Boba Fett. I had to watch some chubster get to play with him, while I got Scarlett or Teela (of whom my brother ironed off her tits for some reason). In this sense, I became alpha, as a female within groups of alpha men or what they would coin,Ā āOne of the boys.ā
My younger brother, consequently had the misfortune of having to succumb to being beta (being 8 years younger than my older brother). Now, my younger brother could kick my older brotherās ass. Heās like cross fit craze buff and he emerged as a strong, silent type. A lot of my care giving and maternal side comes from my interactions with my kid bro. Subsequently, this rolled into my relationships too. I am in the middle, always, odd one out. I can be with an alpha but they can be the meathead variety or I can go for a nerd beta, whoās muscles are literally atrophying and complain when a grocery bag is a scotch over 10 lbs. Ideally, a glance would be both, right? We are supposed to exercise our female and males sides but how often do you come across that in society? So what am I attracted to? Anomalies, misfits, people at a house party not wanting to be there as much as I donāt, rebels, freedom fighters, civil justice warriors, hippies, etc. That is just the personality base, there is the looks factor and intellect and humor and ability to be emotionally intelligent and literate. Yeh, basically, a unicorn. Interestingly, I feel like a unicorn so Iām sure my tribe is out there. A lot of posers and people passing off things as,Ā ālove,āĀ āhonesty,ā etc. So, I acquiesce. I stay in a fortitude of solitude. I donāt see it as hiding, and not necessarily avoidant. I see it as, I gave you air time, you gave me an impression and vice versa. I only dip/duck when someone has hurt me or shown themselves to be someone I canāt respect. Even then, Iām polite. The conundrum Iām in is that I donāt like to be so visible but sometimes, I want to be seen and sometimes it can be one right person and sometimes any contact can fill in and itās right. I do feel exposed and I guess I feel the world is not a safe place. Iām trying to connect the dots between my fear and what lies underneath it. Like an introvert, being around people depletes my energy and then I have to recover on my own. Sometimes itās because they are takers and sometimes I just need to raise my vibrations around people I am grounded with (thatās about 3 people I know and one lives in Sonoma, the other 2 came to mind but are probably best left in the past) so that leaves me and this is why I am a lone wolf. I have a low threshold/tolerance for bullshit and I read energies and see behavior and experience it and well, I instead flee and thatās my way of dealing with it.Ā
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This is Me Today
Iām sad. My period is due in 2 days and thus, elfinā with my brain and fluctuating my hormones to this current state. Iām a desolate island, unconsoled. Today I did enough and I can count it as a cheat day. Sometimes this guurrrrlll duty drags and drains and Iām wiped out for days at a time. My moniker is; melancholic mourner today. I searched for my ex husbandās YT channel because I have felt him psychically contacting me for the past week. I have claircognizance (however you spell it). I can feel and sense when someone who imprinted on me is thinking on me. It sometimes happens with events. Two relatives who crossed over, contacted me when I was a late teen but never after.Ā
I have often wondered if I should explore this...āmediumship.ā Though it all sounds so,Ā ānew agey,ā it probably started at the beginning. Anyway, connecting to my ex. Well, We grew up together. Much of the make up of my personality is indebted to him. I loved our story and most who encountered it fell in love with us as much as we were in love with each other. I visited his page in hopes of finding the short films I debuted in and the one he had of himself at the beach. When life gets hard, he was always of comfort and support. I loved his endearing listening and ability to make me laugh (I find myself underwhelmed by most which in turn, overwhelms me).Ā
I saw that he had just posted something an hour earlier. It made me happy. He has many subscribers and has really developed his love for nature, animals, plants and bringing awareness to the preservation of them. His intro had a soothing song, followed by a George Carlin quote. From his page were links to his instagram and something called,Ā āello?ā or titled that way. I saw a picture of our old cottage in L.A. with his tagsĀ ā#love#struggle#oldtimes#sadtimes#inoverourheadā
I creeds profoundly. I really wept. With pursed, swollen eyelids, the tears flow again in just expressing this. My heart is a tomb. I mourn in a bittersweet sorrow, in despair. I tell myself I will overcome this but it is not something to overcome. Loss is sometimes something you will not get over, you just get on and you manage it around the life you set out to become, the life you feel you are not closer to but try for anyway because the alternative is death and you have already survived many deaths. To turn on yourself would be as easy as those before you that left. It was not easy for them, Iām sure but what came after for me was nothing short of destruction, devastation and listlessness.Ā
I love my ex husband as I know he does me and I always will. We are bonded even in the death of our relationship. I am not connected to all I have dated. Some critical characters in the screenplay life wrote in for me still show their face. I see them in objects, triggers, memories and dreams. I saw my ex in a chance encounter and I knew the Universe gave me that parting gift. I loved that ex deeply as well. I mourned for the child in him that was as shipwrecked as my soul. Because of his condition, it was difficult to be with him. It was rationalizing with an 8 year old. He had all of the innocence of one but all of the tantrumming and under developed logic as well. I see him in my home, overtime I watch a movie where him and I sat or when I see the bottle of Rose that I never finished, that last met his lips. I miss him. He was uplifting and adventurous and his actions made him funny. He would draw me with my eyes as the inception. He fixated on my eyes,Ā āLike nebulas inside,āĀ āThat hold whole galaxies within them,ā he would say. To be his friend would have been a splendor but it never stayed stunted, it always grew more intimate. If I could see him again, I would not have words. I would hope he is healthy and superimposed his old self.Ā
That leaves me to the most recent in this rant (I used to have a tumblr and a friend asked me to re-create a new one). Though this is like a diary and I seriously doubt anyone would reach this word count, itās ok. I will write my feelings out and eject it into cyber space. There is a planet for it to live there. My last love was someone I came to love in his entirety. He was an intellectual too. He had soft gazes every time our heads crashed atop the pillows and his eyes met mine, it was as if they blurred in our high vibration. His teeth flecked in an interlocked pattern, kind of like gridlock off a beaten path, aligned but unconventionally.Ā
He was unconventional. I was attracted to his optimism. It was as if he had something on us, like he had a superhuman ability to know the impossible is possible because he had proven it multiple times over. I lost him to himself because he was hidden unto himself. If he wanted more of me, I was a genie to grant it. When I pulled in too close, it was not too fast, over the course of 14 months time but still...he felt engulfed. I feel he wants to be with me but also apart. In many of my journal entries I had written,Ā āHe said donāt fall in love with me, I donāt want to fall in love with you,āĀ āI donāt trust Nolan (fictitious name), I donāt even think he knows himself.ā Many of our circular patterns revolved around his identity. When his core self was satisfied, it was because he was engaged in a career more fulfilling to his true authentic self and his ideal self. Now, I feel he just checks off his ideal self, so, in that way, his true self is compromised. We were a cohesive pair. I did trust my intuition about him but nothing inside of me told me that he was not meant for me.Ā
On the contrary, nothing deemed that I was not meant for him either. I do feel off and unbalanced without him, not because I need him, because I felt we enriched each otherās lives and lived in a harmony most people aspire to feel but never achieve. We were above pop cultural practices and the ceremonious societal peking system. Inasmuch, we were two loners, not alone with each other. We were complementary in a style that words cannot describe. I empathized with his childhood that played out into disrupting and severing our ties. I feel that he developed in a way that disturbed his existence. I saw an advertisement that sold the consumer on making a blow glass art out of the ashes of a departed loved one. I see his childhood as such. Where he was ornamental, where maybe his adult figures around him deprived him of preference, autonomy, opinion but rather, he was instrumental to them. He was the stepping stone for adult figures that should have been that to him. His rights were limited. I think that built anger in him for the frustrated child who had no voice, who could not object to the carried out injustices. He is a hidden child, partly because of being put there and partly for retreating to safety there. I could not help him find his way but I fear I dislodged something in him that caused for him to be beside himself and see (head on) the glimpse of this child he thought was put away and only comes out to play.Ā
I loved Nolan. I love him still but, with him he did not navigate to resolve that pain. Like a foghorn I cried out but the lighthouse was too far away and the fog impenetrable. I am lost at see without the beacon to port. The lighthouse is not defective, it will find the way to rediscover itās purpose and it will be able to relate to the ship with tattered and torn sails, eroded by the unforgiving winds and the abrasive salty sea. I will battle these waves alone, as I have always, but here I will not remain. Life will create for me an excursion, seven seas to sail ahead and unexplored terrain. If it strikes fear then I know I need to dive into it. It is right. My heart hurts from his interpretations. I know nothing of what is to come. I just know that I am to dissolve this pain, become a stranger to it. As an empath, I was ridiculed and horribly shamed for my hypersensitivity to energies but children and animals share this with me. This is where my innocence lives. If I did not have it, I would not detect the wounded child in those who have crossed my path. Once it is clear to me, once I see that, it cannot be undone. I fall empathically in love with that raw image and the sadness capsizes my heart, it sinks and the individual takes it. I am told that is a gift I have as a healer but one has to receive it, if they donāt then the exchange is not honored and the Universe will stop providing soul and spirit opportunities to the individual. The seat of judgement, if not tuned and turned off; goes unheard and as simple as fluoride being a pineal blocker, well, some guardian angels imparted gifts (if denied) will only expand on existing blockages.Ā
I wish the best for Nolan. For some reason, I feel as if our story is unfinished but who knows. My spirit is left on ellipses. I do continue on and know that hope greets me where I meet it. I wish the best for myself. Life is not easy but our decisions determine the outcome, not our circumstances. I want to change my current state and I will, I am moving closer to becoming who I ultimately was created to be. I have embodied the bulk of who I am, I just need to pave and polish the rest. My eyes have grown weary. I will take a soak and sleep. My dreamcatcher will remind me that I am as good as my affirmations and I am as near to my dreams. Goodnight
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