dark

 It started yesterday.  Well atually it started last week.  This long awaited depression that comes when you are doing everything chemically possible to suppress dopamine. Does fucking suppress have 1 or 2 p's.  That pisses me off.   I am not happy.  I cancelled my day.  I generally teach yoga to the elderly on Fridays on a volunteer basis.  I am under the weather.  Under the weather allright under the hood of a car expecting a slam on the head which is what I am about to give myself....A cocktail of sorts, doctor prescribed.  My life is full of pills.  Pills to go up , pills to come down, pills to stay right in the middle where I am supposed to be but never am. I feel sorry for my son.  I feel sorry for my husband.  Fuck I feel sorry for my dog.  Everyone reassure's me my son will be okay.  My husband asks what's wrong..?  Will I find out in about 6 months?  hahahahaha  probably....by then I may have formulated an answer that I will scream with authority...like I own it!   I spend a lot of time alone.  I have few close friends.  I don't trust letting people close to me.  I really don't.  So  I don't.  Simple as that.  I have a yoga crowd, a belly dancing crowd, a consignment store crowd....Bart's crowd....and me and a few mother's whose children Jared enjoys.  I share my deepest secrets with noone.  At one point in my life I did.  I am not that  person anymore.  In fact I do not know who that person is.  Taking pills numbs me.  Numbs my creativity, my emotions, my ability to feel, to express.  I resent it.  I do yoga for peace.  I find a quiet in it.  It feeds my buried spirit.  When I am without pills I am alive!  colorful, vibrant, sensual, talkative, open....right now I feel halfway to dead.  Falling down a hill...ready to climb into my mountain of blankets cover over my head and never wake up....it never changes I am stagnant....slumped over like a lump of coal be pushed into a smoldering fire that won't go out.   I am like a broken record.  I worry about being a good mother.  I give all my energy to Jared when he is home.  My husband says I need to draw more lines.  I coddle.  I do for him.  I am not a good disciplinarian. I am aware of that..  My therapist often tells me I need to show him that the world is not going to do everything for him.  ha  I am aware of that, bitch.  I protect him with everything I have...and yes, he uses it to his advantage. lol!  He has a very different relationship with his father than he does with me.  I work on it.  Trying to set more boundries.  Being Jared's mom is the love of my life, my full time job.  The minute I found out I was pregnant I was elated and I have been in love with him ever since.  I am very hard on myself.  That is why I don't work at the farm anymore.  I become hyperfocused with task at hand.  It is a letdown.   discouraging.  I feel handicapped...They are doing it for my own good.  I need to take the time and take care of myself... hahahahahah  take care of myself...how much more can a person do...great now I am crying.   .     lol  I'm back.  Just started the woodstove, put in laundry...so this is what depressed people do....they go on living....God forbid I tell anyone I was crying .  That would spark worry amonst the masses. My husband would come home. My family would talk among each other.  It would pure chaos  lol!!!!!  I am teaching on Sunday at an all day yoga event to benefit hospice so I have pull myself together.  I am a good actor.  Although while I am doing yoga I am in a totally different zone.  It takes me away from the here and now .  It makes me feel settled.  Quite a few classes have been cancelled over the past few weeks due to weather.  That is never a good thing.  I like volunteering.  I like giving back to the community.  Showing others how to relax and chill out.  My dog is insane.   Back again.  I keep coming and going.  I am going to keep blabbering until I am unable to type or see...whichever comes first.  Went and checked my facebook acct.  and a friend posted on a song and it made me cry..  It made me cry so much I wanted to scream. The song reminds me of him,...as does a lot of music from my 20's  He is all my regret summed up in a ball.  Every ounce.  I have dreams recurring nightmares with him involved.  I work on letting go.  Can't change the past...blah blah blah.. I have heard it all and then some.  When I look back over the past the only true regret I have is the hurt I caused him.    He tried to be my best friend and I shoved him and shoved him and tore him up and down.  Similar to what I did to Bart 2 years ago.  Although with him....I didn't stop and didn't fix what I broke.  I lost in the end.   Hindsight is 20/20.   I guess having all your regret piled into one ball is better than a million little pieces.  Sure I have done a lot of repair and apologizing for the past.  Christ...Facebook alone I had 3 people come at me anrgy and we discussed it and I apologized and definitely knew where they were coming from.Then I found out there are a few more  mad at me?  who me?  little ole' innocent me?  no, never lol   sinister scowl laugh from hell  fuck em"   What I can't do is change the past.  oh well.  I would do anything to change just that one thing. I carry it with me like a thorn in my side.  Maybe we will meet again in the next life.  I am just happy we have always retained a relationship through all these years.  Makes my heart smile.  Yes it does. Boy I am mumbling...That is if this was speech.  This is the part I don't like.  You start to feel good again and then your vision gets blurry....can't it be easy...make you feel better without causing you to pass out?

starting over

I am going to start over today. I thought about erasing my previous post but hell no.  I was just rambling about this and that .  It was early and I was aggravated by what? I am not sure.  I have a good life @ this point .  There has been a lot of trouble along the way.  I am still in the recovering process.  I am still not back at my job full time.  I will probably be part time for many years to come.  I am teaching yoga more than ever.  I am financially stable.  I have a loving husband that puts up with me.  Seriously, I am not sure how he does it.  I guess I add color to his life.  We are polar opposites.  When I met him 13 years ago.  He was young and determined.  He knew what he wanted and how he was going to get it.  He was organized, sincere and honest.  Sometimes brutally honest.  I on the other hand was floating back and forth between Nyc and Mass.  Spending time in San Fran., Chicago and Arizona. I had a lot of loose ends.  Doing heroin.  In a relationship with a girl named Julie.  A beautiful artist.  Working at a Health Food Store and just floating about. Bart and I went out once and that was all it took.  We were then inseparable.  He posessed qualities that I did not and vica vera.  We were ying and yang.Although he was immediately concerned about my relationship with Julie. He was asked to join before we broke it off.  He was also concerned with the idea I was saving money to take off to Arizona that summer.  Instead I convinced him to come to SF with me for awhile and spent some time in Vermont and flutter from here to there.  We eventually settled down in an apt. in Mass.  His family started sending me to plant talks and seminars out at Stockbridge The school for agriculture and I moved my way up the ladder at work and started leaving my wings behind.  Bart and I enjoyed each others company.  He was willing to come anywhere with me,.  We went on alot of trips and he taught me how to mange my finances and become a more responsible human being  hahahahahhahahha!  I have been clean for 13 years.  We built a log home 8 years ago, had a son and made a comfortable, calm life for ourselves.  For the time being there are no big traveling plans on the horizon.  I would like to buy some llamas and become more sustainable.  Have evrything at our disposal.  For now time is about make a calm environment for our son filled with peace, love and understanding.  When he is old enough we hope to bring him on a trip across the United States visiting various National Parks , exploring nature.  As for myself I would like to see the world.  Which I will in due time.  My husband hopes all my dreams come true and he will help make that a reality.  My first destination will be India.  My husband would like to go to Alaska.  We are still night and day.  But it works.  Respect is where it is at.  Communication.  He is my best friend.  I have never met anyone quite like him.  He is the most sincere human being I have ever met.  I am honored to have him in my life.

Where do I start this morning.

delete   If I going to express angst it will be in a more civilized manner.  lol.  Meaning it will make sense.

The first post.

This should have been my first post.  I am not a writer.  I am not very good at telling stories.  I am using this blog to vent, to clear up some debris.  As I go along I hope to open up more.  Bring closure to a few areas of my life by writing it down.  I am thinking and recalling events out loud.

 This morning I was going to write about yoga nad then I was sidetracked.  That happens quite often so bear with me.  The two most important people in my life are my husband and my son.  Everything else falls below.  I will throw in the dog, cats, fishies and chickens.  My family.  My little unit.  My husband is my best friend. My son is the most precious person in my life..  I want to be better for him.  I have survived for him.  I strive to be a good mother.  I am not the best and I have been reassued that I am not the worst.  I have put my family through a lot of things they do not deserve.  That was in the past.  We look forward to the future and take it day by day.
  I enjoy doing yoga.  It is my passion.  It has helped me in so many ways.  I can not begin to describe.  So I will not try today.  I can only say it has pulled me through some of my darkest hours and made me a better mother, a better wife and a better member of society.  better.

Yoga.  I am very passionate when it comes to yoga.  I am a student as well as a teacher.  I was teaching this past Saturday.  A student asked me why I practice yoga and I let them know it was primarily for spiritual purposes.  They proceeded to inform me that they dreaded coming to class at times.  Ashtanga yoga was a workout. Often they saw no means to an end.  I was alarmed. I found myself trying to explain my view. I offerred them book references.  They were staring at me as if I had 2 heads.  I came to yoga 15 years ago.  I was transitioning back from Nyc.  I was just released from the hospital after a suicide attempt.  I was restrained for a month and a half.  I had nothing.  The love of my life was up in the air, I let go of my job and all that I knew for the past 6 years.  My mother was temporarily in charge of all my money and my keys.  I was attending day treatment.  They picked me up at 9 am and I spent my days with the mentally ill  I was empty.  The only thing keeping me alive was the wide array of pharmaceuticals  that I shoved down my throat each day.  One of them being navane a strong anti psycotic that made me numb to the world.  The only joy I found was swallowing large quantities of nyquil on a regular basis.  That I would buy on my regular day trips to the drugstore.  I was obsessed with my skin.  I often purchased new moisturizers and things of that nature.   My only social life was AA  which I attended daily.  That is a whole other story. I was dead inside.  I stumbled upon a yoga class in the newspaper one  evening.   I was interested in that and tai chi.  I signed up for both.  The tai chi instructor freaked me out a bit.  We would spend a lot of time juggling.  Yes, juggling.  The yoga class was soothing.  It sank right in.  My instructor was going to visit an ashram in Virginia.  I was asked to go with her,.  I did.  At that point in my life I would go anywhere on a whim.  One of the very reasons my mother was in charge of my money.  So I did not disappear.  We went to Virginia and did yoga.  I slept in a tent for three days.  I did not want to return.  The people I met were ageless.  A women read my palms and told me there was a blockage which I in turn took to be my medication.  I resented it.  I resented everything and everyone.  I felt alone.  I wanted peace of mind and I could not see it in the very near future.  I could not see 5 feet in front of me.  I just skipped all over the place.  I'll touch back later.

I spent most of my life knowing that I was not my parent's child.  I found out the truth when I was 11.  It was told to me by my drunk abuser.  He laughed. I shook.  I was raised by my grandparents.  Not in the conventional manner.  They raised me with the understanding that they were my mom and dad and my uncles were my brothers and my older sister was my mother.  She had me @ a young age.  They wanted to spare her the trouble.  She wanted to put me up for adoption. I wish she did.  My parents were good people. My father passed when I was 23 and my mom is still living.  I have a reasonable relationship with my birth mom.  I even refer to her children as my sisters and brother.  It confuses people.  It is entertaing.  Occasionally I introduce her as my mom.  In which she will never be.  I am maddened when my  mom signs cards "great nana".  She often sends my son mail.  He likes it. I often wondered what my "real dad' was like.  Had an imaginary image in my head.  They met at a young age.  Slept together and wala.  Nothing romantic or special about it.  Sometimes I would comb the phonebook.  Which leads me to one night a bit over 2 years ago.  It was about 10.  I was searching the internet.  I came across an obituary with his name in it.  It only made sense.  It also referred to Newburyport.  Plum Island, my childhood resting spot.  I was conceived on the beach.  Is that why I am fascinated with the ocean?    I went downstairs called information and then called his number.  "Did you ever know a woman named Lee?"  "wHy ,yes she is the mother of my daughter.  Floods of feeling washed over me which quickly led back to numb.  I am rather callous, emotionless.  Inability to express a lot of emotion.  I have been going to therapy since the age 14 to get help for it.  I am locked.  Back to him.  We chatted about this and that.  He expressed disbelief.  He was chatty and arrogant.  Talk tomorrow.  So, tomorrow came and I was somewhat elated, stunned.  We talked off and on over the next 2 months. I learned a lot about him.. A lot of lies.  I am very good at reading people.  I often scan them.   I remember things and tie them together.  He was an ex heroin user which really meant a current user.  I could tell by the crackle in his tone.  Heroin abusers have a certain sound in there voice.  Very distinctive.  One of the few ways of telling them apart from the rest of the population.  Outside the pinning of the pupils.  I abused heroin for 7 years.  I broke free.  To the extent that anyone ever does.  My dad and I both liked masking our fear and anxiety with drugs.  The last time I spoke with him he asked me about my social security number.  That was enough for me.  Time to say bye.  Which I did.  This whole deal caused excitement in my family.  They all wanted part of it.  Most distressing was Lee was concerned about herself.  Her relationship with him.  I saw her selfishness.  I saw a side to her that I didn't like.  I broke off my relationship with Lee for a year.  Honestly, she is so wrapped up in her self she probably didn't notice.  When she did she just drank until oblivion.   Months later he called my brothers house ( my uncle lol)  and asked for me, apologized.  I didn't return his call.  I asked my family to quiet down about it.  They clearly did not understand me.  They did not understand much.  The most dysfunctional group.  Kind hearts.  I had a therapist through all of this.  She helped.  Although, I am often closed when speaking with my therapist.  There is a lot I don't tell her.  There is a lot I tell no one.  I don't know how.

The Beginning.

The night before the accident.  "right now I am in a shallow hole and some sand and gravel is being kicked in over the sides.  Has been for a few days.  Well aware.  I'm tired and would like to take off my protective glasses and rub my eyes because I am tired of pills and thoughts and tension....but if I take them off a big piece of dirt will get stuck in my eye.  Tomorrow, if I feel this way... take something.  Stay aware...remember my list...remain alert. Get Sleep.  "

Stream of consciousness.  I have always liked that.  I am not sure where I am going to begin so I will just begin.  I could write about the tortured child, the road to enlightenment or the insanity in between.  I will touch on each.  I was reading a book today about a young girls journey through crazy.  I laughed and thought I have always wanted to vent, usually on paper but I chose this route. 
  The fourth time started like any other day.  I got up, sent my son to school ( he was 2) and went off to work.  I checked on the guys also known as the planting crew ( for further reference) proceeded to walk over to my boss and say "Hey, I don't feel so great, I am going home."  All of this happened before 8am.  I walked home.  Marched through the greenhouse vaugely recognizing the faces before me.  I had a destination, a one track mind.  I had been wallowing in my head for weeks.  Constantly being told I was becoming detatched.  No, not me, I'm fine.  I arrived home, jumped in my car.  I did have the keys that day.  My husband had a habit of hiding them from me, including the spare set.  I went to N.H and bought myself a 6 pack, not my usual array of vodka 50% nips, but a 6 pack of budweiser.  I headed home had one then two then made a phone call to my birth mom, Lee.  Everything was great and sunny.  The sun was  shining bright.  I felt wonderful sitting on my porch stairs looking about.  That is the last thing I remember.  The next minute I was staring at a police officer.  Apparently my dog and I had gone out for a ride.  (The rest has been told to me)  I was crashed in the bushes about 1/2 hour away from my house.  I told the police officer "I was bringing my dog to get his nails done."  There were pill bottles thrown about the passenger seat and in the compartment between.  A bag of budweiser with 2 missing in the back seat.  Then there was Moose.  They took me to the hospital. Overdose.  Finally they  let me go home with the understanding that I would return in the morning . I did.  9am.  That night there was a rustling on the porch.  I was convinced someone had opened up a ladder and they were coming in to rape me.  I went into the other room.  Where my husband was sleeping and told him.  Very nervous.  convinced.  He told me to go back to bed.  I often slept in a separate room when I was in these states because I am restless and awake.  Turned out in the morning it was a racoon wrestling with a trashcan..  I was hearing music amongst other things.  The ticking of the clock.  The hum of the refrigerator.  The music.  Was I meant to be a composer is that what it meant?  Time was creeping by.  Things felt dirty.
9am sunshine time to go to day treatment.  I wasn't there 10 minutes and they admitted  me.  This wasn't the first time.  It wasn't the worst time.  There were still 6 more consecutive stays to come that summer.  My walls had been ripped down, my husband was on the verge of leaving and I was told that I looked like a patient that would eventually die.  They had a look.  I was beside myself. Outside looking in and not seeing clearly.