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Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Somewhat Offbeat: Still Trying To Figure Out What Reilly's Possible "Daddy" Wants & Almost Fainting Today

When "Momma" has to sort of lie to Reilly about what she's doing, that's not good. In fact, "Momma" felt dizzy and like fainting as she got on to check whether or not he checked her blog re Reilly—and confusion, heartbreak, etc. can cause one to want to faint, as Reilly has sensed for at least two regarding someone else whom's going through heartbreak.

Puppies—baby and adult puppies alike—can sense when someone's enduring pain, etc.—and Reilly really is an empath, and perhaps even an exceptional one, though Camille was also emphatically tired yesterday.

Saturday, July 2, 2016

If I Didn't Keep Asking People To Pray For Me (And For Others), Then...

People would have to worry. Right now, I'm only getting older every day and not strong enough for myself—I'm still, e.g., jobless, single, etc.—and I've blogged and otherwise written, as well as spoken about, my struggles with Cerebral Palsy, mental illnesses, etc..

Besides, I can ascertain that many other people with disabilities and mental illnesses can relate—and who knows whether or not they feel like they wish they had the courage to speak up like I'm speaking up; despite that I'm just talking about what I endure in part to keep myself from doing something detrimental to myself, as opposed to being courageous? After all, addictions (e.g., Alcoholism) and suicide run in my family; and bottling anything up can become dangerous to the point of fatality.

If nothing else, keeping myself alive for some reason is somehow being for others and not just myself, isn't it?

This one is a Vincent van Gogh drawing that found on Wikimedia Commons.

This one I found on Facebook as I was browsing. This speaks to a lot of what I'm enduring—the loneliness, missing a lot of people, some secrets that even I, the type that believes in as much full disclosure as possible, have; and, in my case, knowing that people like me are out there and wondering why I have to numb, mitigate, or suppress my own pain just because others are suffering. Incidentally, I think about my two ex boyfriends, each of whom I had to report to the police and should not have dated in the first place—I dated one from August 4, 2004 to about May 19, 2005; and the other one I dated for literally six days, or at least I initially remembered from about February 26, 2013 to March 2 or 3, 2013. Maybe it was 10 days, from about February 20th to March 2nd—either way, that came after almost eight years of being single again and is being followed by over three years of being single again for a second time.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

In Spite Of That Certain People Have Hurt Me, And Because Other Certain People Have Hurt Me...

I think about quite a few of them from time to time, sometimes even often or every day. To some of them, I'd say, "I hate you" or "I hate you, too"—that's how much they hurt me. Not that I was always right—still, a spirit of unforgiveness and hypocrisy hurts; and some would say that I'm being a hypocrite, although my "I hate you"s are quite honestly a way to numb the pain from how they hurt me.

By the way, I told a former Chapelgate member that I'd not name other incidents because I'd made my point. However, I will name one other incident since Anti Semite Donald Trump seems to be on track to winning the U.S. Presidency; and the incident is even more unfunny now:

When I was a student at Chapelgate, I took Mrs. Bonnell's drama class. One of my fellow students (whom I will not name)—whom, by the way, is Jewish him- or her-self—thought funny to give a Nazi salute as apparent satire at the end of his skit during one of the class meetings. When I confronted Mrs. Bonnell about finding it funny, she told me, "I don't see Jesus in you"—and she left me in tears for it.

At the time, I was suspecting that I am Jewish; and before that—during the fallout of 9/11 and when I was learning about the Holocaust—my OCD/Anxiety set off, and partly because (though I didn't know it at the time) God was telling me that I am a Jew whom lost relatives in the Holocaust (Sometimes, one doesn't know what the Holy Spirit was doing until he or she looks back.). Later, she accused me of calling another student a Marxist—which I never did—in her "apology" non apology—someone else had jokingly called her that, and she thought that I did. By the way, why would I call someone whom I didn't even know well a political disciple of a self-hating-Jewish man whom stated, for example, the following?

We recognize in Judaism, therefore, a general anti-social element of the present time, an element which through historical development – to which in this harmful respect the Jews have zealously contributed – has been brought to its present high level, at which it must necessarily begin to disintegrate.
In the final analysis, the emancipation of the Jews is the emancipation of mankind from Judaism.
The Jew has already emancipated himself in a Jewish way.
“The Jew, who in Vienna, for example, is only tolerated, determines the fate of the whole Empire by his financial power. The Jew, who may have no rights in the smallest German state, decides the fate of Europe. While corporations and guilds refuse to admit Jews, or have not yet adopted a favorable attitude towards them, the audacity of industry mocks at the obstinacy of the material institutions.” (Bruno Bauer, The Jewish Question, p. 114)

As for an example of when I think about certain people in spite of that they've hurt me, I continue to think about (at least whom I thought was) a dear friend, father figure, and writing mentor (whose self estrangement from me still baffles me in many ways—as I've written, that estrangement threw me into a Depression flareup that is still ongoing in quite a few ways, especially as I await an update about the publication status of my second book.). 

As I've stated before, I also think about those whom've hurt me with a spirit of unforgiveness and hypocrisy—and when I didn't even do wrong to them, despite that I might've or did hurt their loved ones—and when I've made amends to those whom I've hurt.

Some—maybe even you—will have read all of this and nonetheless wonder why I think about the people whom've hurt me, and why I sometimes numb the pain with an "I hate you" or "I hate you, too" in my thoughts toward some of them—and especially when I've never forgotten what they said and/or did, let alone how they made and make me feel to this day.

Monday, February 15, 2016

Belated Valentine's/Singles Awareness Day Entry (Which I Needed To Write)

A two-time (not "two-timing"!) ex girlfriend, with each ex having had the police called on him for harassment, I had a single-again woman's Valentine's Day that could not have been lonelier for me; and being a two-time-single-again woman wasn't the only reason. Other reasons concern being a 26-year-old woman and waiting-for-marriage virgin whom has Cerebral Palsy, mental illnesses, no job, and two failed relationships on which she tried to workand one was from August 4, 2004 to about May 19, 2005, and the other was for six days in 2013. 

Meanwhile, I thought about, saw, and heard how many of my loved ones and friendsincluding able, neurotypical, and employed oneshad a happy Valentine's Day or Singles Awareness Day, all while I'm a single-again pariah and wondering why I can't have a Cinderella-type story while more-fortunate ones have their happinessestalk about one having his or her
cake and also eating it!

Some other loved ones and friends, at the same time, had their own Cinderella- or Frog Prince-type stories, all while I fared worse than even Gatsbywhom at least had guests at parties, requited (even though illicitly-requited) love for a while, and even five people at his funeral. Even a fictional character fared better than me, and he could've had his lover had she had the courage to leave her long-time-philandering husband for a man whom loved her!

All I have to show is two broken relationships, unrequited and unrequitable loves over the years (including within the past few years), zero offers to set me up with someone, and failed, fruitless, and little- and non-supported attempts to find someone and/or have someone cross my path. Happy Valentine's and Singles Awareness Day to me, indeed :-/ —or in all seriousness, to those whom had and have what kind of happinesses I could not have this year or for the other past 10 years.

Monday, January 18, 2016

More Depression

"A man's soul sustains him, but who can endure a broken spirit?" I am enduring another Depression flareup, loneliness, etc.—I have even suspended working on the manuscript for my next book.

Spiritbrokeness, unlike my sister's stomach flu, is a kind of sickness that doesn't just go away with prayer, fluids, and rest. Spiritbrokeness takes even more than prayer, sufficient hydration, and enough energy to heal—especially when it exacerbates and feeds off of, e.g., Depression in a vicious feed-be fed cycle.

Saturday, September 5, 2015

A Reminder That A Cousin's Cousin Inspired Me To Give

I normally don't do this; so, bear with me:
To all of my Facebook friends and others, I'm asking you to think about this (as a friend of mine reminded me and others) for a second:
  1. Among the strongest of people are those whom are also among the most sensitive of people—or at least the ones whom are willing to admit that they are sensitive and are willing to not desensitize themselves.
  2. Many who at least try to be kind are also among the ones whom are usually the first ones to be treated unkindly. The reason for that is that unkind people like to take advantage of kind people and see how strong they really are—to them, sensitivity is weakness and/or a witness against them of their own weaknesses; and sensitivity, of course, includes putting the words "I want to talk about it [whatever 'it' is]"* into action.
  3. Many who at least try to bear others' burdens are trying to do what someone refused to do for them—and frankly, they're hoping that someone will finally bear their burdens in turn (or at least that God will reward them for helping others)**.

If you find this reminder worth sharing, share it. If you don't find this reminder worth sharing, then decline to share it and leave it at that. Also, feel free to take this reminder and—for a lack of better wordage—modify it to put it in your own words, give your own examples that pertain to this reminder (See the asterisks.), and ultimately have it come from your heart.
Remember, too, that we're all imperfect; and many of us at least sometimes hurt others in the ways in which we ourselves were hurt, whether we realize or don't realize that we do—and I certainly grant that many others (for example, the aforementioned unkind people) do often, or even always, deliberately hurt others
* RIP Mary Trudnak Czarnecki (Those were her words to my aunt when she finally broke down. "No, no; it's okay—I want to talk about it."
(I wish that I knew and understood that that's why I knew such a vulnerable Great-Grandma Czarnecki when she was still alive—she was trying to be strong and hold her own for at least 73 years, 16 of them in which I was alive—she married Great-Granddad when she was 20-going-on-21 years old in 1934, and she died when she was 93-going-on-94 years. I was born in 1990 when she was 76-going-on-78 years old.).
** RIP Mary DeBoy Pundt (I only heard about her and never had the chance to meet her.).

Monday, June 1, 2015

Short Story: Ditched

Author's note: I wrote this based on quite a few things, including how I just felt when I thought that I was the only person who was downstairs and, thus, unable to get Reilly up to my room for the night.

That was it...there it was...undeniably in front of her...facing her as much as she was facing—or at least having to face—it: the fact that she was ditched—abandoned—and now entirely alone—and helpless.

"...if you were the last person on Earth"—well, she was (or at least she felt like) the last person on Earth. The ridiculousness of that phrase finally revealed itself to her. 

"Nobody would help you if you were the last person on Earth because nobody else would be on Earth!" she thought to herself. "Shouldn't the phrase be '...the only other person on Earth', then?" Then again, her case fit the "last person on Earth" type of situation—she couldn't help herself now, and she couldn't help herself if she were the last person on Earth. 

"Then why should I even be on Earth?" she thought. Then again, she couldn't take her own life if she couldn't help herself for her own life; could she? Nonetheless, she was alone—she didn't even have any angels watching over her (let alone the Angel of the LORD tending to her —Elijah had Him to encourage him to at least eat and drink). 

If anything did  happen to her —G-d forbid —she'd at least write this epitaph down as part of her last will and testament for anyone whom would show up and find her. "At least throw me in a ditch if you must ditch me in my death as many ditched me in my life."

As she wrote her epitaph down, she realized that her sardonic humor was keeping her alive. "'Misery loves company'", she mused, "and 'two are better than one.'"

Monday, January 27, 2014

What Makes Me Special? Well...

Nothing, really; and I get that. In fact, I know that Scripture even expounds quite thoroughly on that point: for example, I ought to "not to think of [my]self more highly than [I] ought to think, but to think soberly, as God has dealt to each one a measure of faith." (Romans 12:3, NKJV) Besides, I damned well know that people are going to ignore me, tell me to shut up, etc.. If they don't tell me to shut up, etc. to my face, they're surely telling me what they're telling me behind their computer or mobile-device screens.

As I've stated as wellat least trying to be humble and honest (as is my Christian duty) leaves me all the more in non-employment limbo. One of the criticisms that I got was that I was too personal in my interview video. Well, excuse me—what would have happened if I didn't disclose that, for instance, I have Cerebral Palsy, OCD/Anxiety, Depression, and ADD until an interview? Either way, I'm screwed: damned if I do, and damned if I don't!

As I've also stated, I would drive around to employment places and send out resumes, etc. if I could, I would. Then again, I really have no resume on which to go. Furthermore,  doing the YouTube video and utilizing social media to even seek an interview in this day and age has ironically (and/or paradoxically) backfired—here, as a friend noted, I was trying to be innovative and, in my innovation, miserably failed. 

The irony further comes to light when one considers how a YouTube video helped Kate Upton, who was not even trying to be discovered, become discovered. From how I heard the story when I watched Geraldo Rivera's show, this girl was dancing at a game for fun (I remembered it being a football game—my bad), and a talent scout discovered the video and asked this girl if she'd like to model. Meanwhile, I tried to make a video to seek an interview partly because of how Kate Upton's story affected me, and I got few or no points for innovation.

Besides, how cool is having my mom drive me around all of the time? Let a kid who wasn't born disabled tell you. I can't find the video now, but there's a video where a 30-year-old man in a wheelchair rhetorically asks "How cool is it to have your mom as your best friend?" In addition, I had a 27-year-old college classmate who once talked about how he got jazz for still being in college at 27 years of age—not that he is disabled, but still being in college at 27 years of age and being a disabled 24-year-old woman who can't drive share the "not cool" factor.

So, I'm certainly not special—I get that. But I still have a dream, I guess—a dream of getting somewhere with being as humble as possible and using what I can with what I have and where I am. If nothing else, this could be my sad, pathetic life at best:

This isn't the comic strip that originally came to mind. I was thinking about the strips about Rat's dream zapper, but this strip works, too —except my Saturdays are spent at counseling and around the house.

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Who Am I More To Complain Than Anyone Else; Right? Well...

Example One and Example Two might give you a clue. Also, I majored in Political Science at UMBC, and I thought that majoring in Poli. Sci. might get me picked up by someone, especially if I was already blogging, on LinkedIn, etc.. I also always heard about how UMBC grads get so hired, and even how one of Fox News' contributors (Kirsten Powers) is a UMBC grad! Either I'm the exception to the rule (since, as I recall, Megyn Kelly and Laurie Dhue are two of numerous examples of Political Science majors who have careers and have even taken off in them), or (if some articles that I've read are correct) I fell for the exceptions (since Poli. Sci. majors are among the least likely to get employed).

If you didn't read Examples One and Two, by the way, keep reading: I'll gladly add for you why being a possibly-unemployable person who went through college just to be stuck on SSI benefits and perhaps even better off in a corner drinking myself to death might be my life (and then you'll see why I might be better off in a corner drinking myself to death, although I surely as Heaven and Hell wouldn't do it):

  1. I'll have gone through all the crap in my life for, at best, just the same or, obviously at worst, even worse in the end.
  2. Since I'll have gone through what I've gone through for just more of the same or even worse, then (for instance) getting a ITB pump and going to physical therapy will really have been a worthless, meaningless, waste of time.
  3. I'll be living as an alteh moid (read: "spinster") in my mom's house until (unless the Rapture comes) she dies (and she's in her late 50s; so, God forbid, anything could happen within 10-15 years at minimum); and I'm not going to be able to take care of her like I otherwise could if something does happen and/or she doesn't live up to or beyond 70-80 years.
  4. Again, I'll be on SSI benefits. So, I won't have my own income. Besides, who is going to want to take in the disabled relative or friend who might cramp his or her style and/or inconvenience his or her life? He or she might say that he or she would be wiling to take me in, but push to shove will tell both of us quite differently (and he or she will either prove to have not known him- or her-self well enough or come to light as a lying hypocrite who doesn't want the disabled around). After all, one can ask the Delta Airlines crew who shoved the crying Marine in the back of the plane, and Texas State Senator Wendy Davis—their victims weren't even born disabled, and they were more than willing to put them out of sight or use them as open targets.
  5. I won't be exalted above my enemies (including my unforgivers), and God's promises will seem to mean nothing for me. My enemies will roundly say, "Aha! We knew that, that bitch wouldn't go anywhere. We knew that we'd beat her!"—or (as the Psalms can be applied to my situation) "They also opened their mouth wide against me, And said, “Aha, aha! Our eyes have seen it." (Psalm 35:21) Then what will God's promises about being humble, etc. (e.g., Psalm 70:2-4, Matthew 23:12, and James 4:6-10) mean for me and in my life? My enemies will, thus, have reason to gloat.
I could go on, but I already know at least some the responses that I'm going to get:
  1. "Oh, poor baby....Shut the fuck up!"
  2. "You think that you have it bad? Bullshit!"
  3. "You might have it bad, but some people have it worse than you!" (as if that takes my pain away. Cue Response One or something similar—e.g., "Get over yourself!" or "Suck it up!")
  4. "Other people are going through things, too." (Again, as if that takes my pain away! Nonetheless, Cue Response One.)
  5. "You're proving your enemies' points!" (Or, if you are my enemy, "You're proving my point!")
  6. "You'll get better when you get to Heaven!" (Sure; and even if I do, have you read about David and Solomon, for example—and they got the best of both worlds?!)
  7. "You can't have your cake and eat it, too, anyway." (Again, what about David and Solomon?)
  8. Eye rolls
  9. "By the way, if you wanted to be a voice for people who are going through crap or someone to whom they can relate them, you surely aren't that voice or that someone. Nice try, though—oh no; wait: your effort makes you look pathetic and worsening your fate at best, and adding to even others' miseries at worst."
  10. Just being ignored (And Job and Jeremiah had it better. I even sometimes wish that my enemies would yell at me and say, "I hate you!" or "I hate you because...". At least Jeremiah had his enemies hate him to his face. Mine, whether I'm wrongly hated or just plain unforgiven, usually leave me to guess what I apparently or actually did and won't tell me.).
The even-sadder part is that I'm going these kinds of responses from supposed or even actual friends as well. At least Job had friends who could simply keep their mouths shut and comfort him for a while. Heck, I even got relatively-little support during my ITB Pump surgery in the end, for example. 52 likes on a post at max by one of my uncles, a couple of visits, and returned comic books from my dad, for instance—and I was on anesthesia for two consecutive days, I was throwing up from caffeine withdrawal (I couldn't even hold water down.), and I was in the hospital from July 17-August 2, 2013! I've seen and heard people get more support and well wishes for even less! 

Then people wonder why I complain, ask for prayer, etc....and add something like one of the 10 example responses above!  

Saturday, January 25, 2014

When Tragedy Is Close To Home Or Even At Home

I was born in Baltimore, Maryland, and lived in Columbia, Maryland throughout my childhood. I still live in the Baltonapolis Area (I'm not saying where), and I can tell you that the tragedy was close to home. In fact, I was under the impression that Columbia, Maryland is the county seat of Howard County (It is not, though—Ellicot City is. Incidentally, that's how much I've been unable to get out.). I was even under the impression that Columbia, Maryland is the Wilkes Barre of Maryland (As I said,  I was under the impression that Columbia, Maryland is the county seat of Howard County.).

Who knew that Columbia, Maryland would make the news this way? My sister was angry that Julia-Louis Dreyfus called Columbia "dreary". I just thought that she doesn't know Columbia. From schools like Owen Brown and Oakland Mills, and even (quite frankly) Jeffers Hill (and I went to both Owen Brown and Oakland Mills Middle Schools, as well as Jeffers Hill Elementary), to the busstops at Howard Community College and signs in the neighborhoods (at least my childhood neighborhood), the culture of Columbia is quite evident—and "dreary" is a compliment (especially since, for example, some brats burned a bridge in my childhood neighborhood a while back. The bridge has long since been rebuilt, by the way.).

As far as I know, I didn't know the victims (of blessed memory) and I don't know their families (May they be comforted at this difficult time.). I also don't know whether I knew the shooter, and speculation is indeed vain. Nonetheless, I would not be surprised if the shooter did end up being one of my classmates—after all, one of my classmates was involved in a second-degree murder (I thought that, that kid was a brat; but I never expected him to be involved with a second-degree murder. Could it even be him who was the shooter? I doubt it, but I don't know—the last that I heard is that he'd been arrested for his part in the second-degree murder, although he wasn't the one charged with second-degree murder. Unless the Columbia Mall shooter does turn out to be him, I won't name who he is—and if you want to know, Google for his name, since that's how I found out that there was an incident that he was involved in at all.).

Another classmate, meanwhile, died of a drug overdose and left a son behind. Also meanwhile, I was once at an arraignment hearing for the at-the-time boyfriend of one of my classmates. I could talk about other incidents concerning Columbia and Columbians as well.

So, this shooting shouldn't have surprised me. It did, and it shouldn't have. Columbia, Maryland, is more than "dreary" after all—and now it's on the news as more than a "dreary" city. It's not the city that Edward Norton is (or was) proud of (and I didn't even know that Hollywood had Jim Rouse's Columbia-raised grandson in it for the longest time.). It's not the city that Aaron MacGruder is (or was) proud of (I guess. From what I recall, he was raised here—or at least raised around Howard County. For some reason, the idea that he went to Oakland Mills High School came to mind—though I could have a wrong idea.). It's not the city that Jim Rouse would be proud of, either.

Again, I can tell you that "dreary" is a compliment for Columbia, Maryland—especially after an incident like this, and an incident that should not have surprised me as at all.