The sun arises in the early morning sky.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
The sun arises in the early morning sky.
Monday, April 28, 2008
I wasn’t going to write about my weekend adventure, mostly because I haven’t felt like writing, or doing anything else for that matter. So hopefully this will help to bring me out of deteriorating mood that I’ve been in the past couple of days.
People having been telling me if I get out and do things that will make my moods better, so when a friend called and wanted to know if I wanted to go riding around with them, I thought why not I wasn’t doing anything else, except for sitting on my fat ass staring blankly at the dingy white walls around me.
My boys stayed with their dad, so I didn’t have to worry about them, even though they are old enough to be left alone for a few hours. My friends picked me up around 8 and we drove into Tulsa, after stopping off and picking up a 5th of Tequila from the local liquor store. We then stopped at my friends house, where we smoked a blunt and started in on the Tequila. I hadn’t smoked since I got arrested back on the 2 of April, so I quickly became high, which felt really great. Best mood I’ve been in for days.
There are some weeds when you smoke them they make you feel laid back and relaxed, where other weeds have the opposite effect, anyway on me they do. Well, this was one of the those other kinds of marijuana where when you smoke it, you want to get up and do a thousand things. You can’t sit still, you feel restless and most of the time I want to get up and clean something after smoking. Problem was I was at someone else’s house, so I had to sit there shifting back and forth in my seat while my friend made call after call. I was starting to regret coming, and thought about what I would be doing if I were at home....alone. Not a good thought, I was better off getting drunk and high. I took another huge drink.
Finally my friend hung up with a big smile on his face, and told us it was time to head out. While driving we passed around the bottle and enjoyed listing to the songs being played on the radio, until we made it to a house on the west side of town. My friend ran in and came back out just a few minutes later with a giant duffle bag. He quickly opened up the trunk of the car and sat the bag inside, then jumped back into the drivers seat. Immediately the strong odor of marijuana filled the car. Panic mode set in. Am I going to regret anything in the morning? Will I be waking up in jail cell? Little thoughts like these are scrambling around in my brain, making it hurt. I’m still in a little hot water for the other charge, so I damn straight didn’t want another one, or have to call another friend to come bail me out of jail. I sit back deep into the seat, take a few deep breathes and another sip from the bottle.
We safely made it back to his place, where he took the bag out and we all went back inside, sat down to smoke some more. It was then that I saw what all was in the duffle bag, over 5 pounds of bricked up marijuana. My mind begins racing, wondering what the fuck I was doing there at their house. I don’t want to be caught up in any crap, so I begin questioning, in my head, the friendship I have with them. I don’t have a lot of friends, but most of the friends that I do have are all drug addicts. I don’t have a single friend who is straight. So, if I decide not to hang around them, then I’m left alone with my crazy thoughts. Neither one is a good option, but in the end my mind thought, I would rather hang with someone than be totally alone. I just went along with things. Whatever happened would just have to happen.
After several rounds of drinks and joints being passed around, my friend broke down most of the weed into different bags and then placed it all back into the duffle bag. We then got back into the car and drove around to different places delivering the product to people he knew. While they went in the houses I just sat alone in the back seat cradling the bottle of Tequila.
Somewhere around midnight, we stopped at a place in Tulsa called Sharky’s. My friend told me he had to drop off one last package to someone inside, then we would head back to his place. At this point, I was so drunk I could barely stand, but I had to pee so bad I got out the car to go inside to the bathroom. From outside I looked in and saw my neighbor, and being drunk I thought I would sneak up on her and scare the crap out of her. Just for a little fun.
So, I’m tiptoeing drunkenly my way towards her, when I look up and notice who she is talking to. I damn near peed on myself! My heart felt like it was going to explode when I saw two local police officers standing there talking to her. They know who I am, and one of them I have been told is now working with the DEA. Shit! My mind screams. I backed off real fast. Even though they weren’t in their uniforms, and look a lot smaller out of their uniforms, they still scared the crap out of me. I quickly made it back to the car, praying they hadn’t they seen me.
I get into the backseat of the car, when suddenly in my mouth there is a party going on and everyone is throwing up. I promptly open the back door, and upchuck everything I had for dinner. When my friends all returned and see the puke beside the car, I requested that I be taken home for the night. I had enough excitement. And people wonder why I don’t want to leave my house some days.
The hardest thing I've had to learn in life, is which bridge to cross and which bridge to burn.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
After all the lawyers finished talking to the Judge, they called the people who were in jail, and then they finally started calling names of people in the courtroom. Four of the people they called had returned without lawyers, so they were told to have a seat in the jury box area. The woman Judge got pissed when one lady tried to explain why she wasn’t being represented by an attorney. “If you can bond out of jail, you can pay for an attorney. Now go sit in the jury box,” the Judge harshly said to her. Don’t know if she went to jail or not, I got to leave before anything happened.
As I sat in the courtroom waiting on my name to be called, I kept expecting something bad to happen. Like me being told to go sit in the jury box with the other 4 people, or ‘Baker’ would show up, since my neighbor seems to think he’s the one out to get me, as she put it. If I have pissed you off that much ‘Baker’ I’m sorry, forgive me.
The closer down the line of alphabetical names went, the more nervous I became. I hate it when it gets close to my name being called, my heart starts racing and I feel like I’m about to have a panic attack, or I want to throw-up, but today I fought it off. When the Judge called my name I stood up, and she said, “Charges have been dropped. You are free to go.” I could barely believe what she had said and I almost wanted to turn to another person and ask them if that’s what she really said. (I hope that is what she said, and my mind wasn't playing games with me.) I walked out of the courthouse with the biggest smile I’ve probably had in months. It felt good.
Now I just have to worry about my other charge. I go back to court on May 12, with an attorney. I got a call back from one today, and she told me it would cost me $500, half now and the rest later. I’m going to check around with a couple other places and see if I can get one cheaper...probably not. At least I don’t have to worry about it for a few weeks yet.
Monday, April 21, 2008
I feel as though I will drown.
I feel as though I will explode.
Last attempt to communicate from a private hell
Razor cuts into the vein,
not to lose, not to gain;
simply just to ease my pain.
Others see me as a survivor
Who’s mastered all the pain,
But underneath the mask I wear
I think I’m insane.
The branches of my path
Are like shattered glass.
Tiptoeing through the grass
Trying not to think about my past.
Locked in my dark cage,
searching for the key,
waiting for someone
to please rescue me.
Lost in my chaotic mind
"God, are you real?"
"Am I wrong for asking?"
"Do you know how I feel?"
These voices inside they won't go away.
Try as I might there determined to stay.
It's an illusion a mask of shame.
They think I'm crazy but how can I make them see
This really is not me.
I’ve been referred to by hateful names,
At times my perception of reality,
Can be very different from yours.
To me it can feel like a nightmare,
I cannot awaken from.
I am feel buried alive
Inside the madness.
DIRTY! DECAYING! PUTRID! ROTTING FLESH! Rising up inside of me.
Currently on my other hand I have full-blown mania, which cause me to sometimes do outlandish, unpredictable, impulsive things with no thought for the consequences. On these days, I sleep very little, and even prescription sleeping medications have very little effect on me. I will also have increased difficulty in concentrating and paying attention to detail. But what I hate the most is the angry. It comes without warning, and I will explode with vicious, vulgar language at any given moment.
Sometimes I have wild aspirations of changing the world, thoughts racing at mach speed, starting numerous projects (and never finishing them!) then, crashing so low that nothing matters anymore.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
While sleeping, my dream took me back to a house that was very analogous to the house I grew up in. I was being held down on a twin bed, in the middle of a room, with a blanket thrown over me and tied down on all the corners so I could not move. Above me I could see the hole that was in the ceiling of my bedroom, but much bigger. As I struggled in my restraints, I was startled by a earsplitting sound of thunder. Lightening clashed loud in the air just above the hole repeatedly as I stared up into the sky above.
After several more frightening rounds of thunder, water began to trickle and then stream down on top of me. The blanket quickly became soaked as a tremendous amount of water began pouring in on top of me, making the blanket cling to my body. I struggled to breathe as the blanket tightened around me, slowly cutting off my air supply. As more water poured down on top of me, I could hear voices in the back ground.
“Quit just laying there! Get your ass up and empty the buckets!!” the voice of my father bellowed through the storm. But as much as I tried to move, I couldn’t. I fiercely struggled as the storm continued to send officious amounts of water down onto my cold, wet body. Over the stentorian storm, I could hear my fathers voice shouting obscenities as thunder crackled above my head.
The room began to fade black and I felt I could no longer breathe, and began trying to gulp in several deep breaths. I struggled and pushed hard against the flowing water and the wet blanket that held me down. I could feel pressure building in my chest, and with one finally push I awoke from my dream around 9:30 am, my heart racing and feeling like I couldn’t breathe for a moment or two.
I could feel the heavy beating of my heart deep inside my chest. As I laid there, I thought I could hear the rain pouring down in a heavy stream outside. Images from my past of growing up, flooded my mind with all consuming thud. I thought about all the endless nights without sleep I had, after a storm had passed over our house. The rain pouring through the hole in the ceiling, and splashing into the large buckets that sat underneath.
I couldn’t sleep then, so how am I suppose to sleep now when I can still hear the rain pouring down around me?
Not wanting to drift back into the intrusive dream, I decided to take a long hot bath. By the time the water had turned cold, I could smell the boys cooking food in the kitchen. Of course they made a mess as always, but managed to make sausage, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and toast. Around noon we made our way to the park for a nice walk through the woods. I even got to take a few good pictures.
Now it’s almost 10pm and I feel exhausted, with no energy, but wide awake. I took a Rozerem that a friend gave me a few of, about 20 minutes ago, so we’ll see if this one is going to work.
Tomorrow I’ve decided I’m going to one of the parks around here and take a long walk. Maybe getting some exercise, and taking a few pictures will help to relax my mind before I go to court Tuesday. Things should go along fairly simple, but I’ve learned to always expect the unexpected.
My father taught me that well, you never knew what kind of mood he would be in, so I learned to always tread quietly around him and be ready for the unexpected at any moment. Especially in the summertime when he would sit bare ass naked in his recliner, rubbing his penis, and looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I didn’t dare walk past him when Mom wasn’t in the room, if I did, it meant being pulled down towards him, making my hand brush against his penis.
Mom never stopped him from sitting around naked, even when we became teenagers and wanted to invite friends over to our house. During the summer when he mostly did this, I didn’t invite anyone over to the house because I was afraid that he would do them the same way he did me.
I thought about calling Parkside, or somewhere I wouldn’t have to pay for outpatient treatment and see what they can do for me, but right now I don’t have a way to get there. I don’t have a car during the morning hours, or any one who could take me. And I can’t go in the afternoon, because I still don’t want the people around me to know. No one knows about the accident at jail, except for all the officers that were there, but not any family or friends. It’s just another one of my secrets that I wish to keep to myself at this time.
Today my mood has been pretty good. I went out shopping for a few things at Wal-Mart, and then helped my older son buy a new cell phone, which made him really happy. He has a part-time job working at Wal-Mart, so he will be paying for it himself, and so far he is doing good at saving the rest for a car. I just can hardly believe that he will be out of school next year. Time has really gone by fast.
Happy Thought for the day...
There is a big, beautiful world out there, and you deserve to experience it.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Hide the problem,
No one will know.
I’ve become so good at hiding the problem
That I’ve convince myself there isn’t one.
Feeling, being different and separate
Hide our emotions.
Put on the mask so everyone will think we’re okay.
Even if it’s really not.
Rational alternative is to leave this life
Fools most people.
Feelings of doom preoccupy me
On a fairly consistent basis.
Too many drugs,
To much drinking,
Driving without a drivers licenses
Looking for my next high.
Chaos created by my mental illness.
I never learned boundaries.
Where does it end?
Where does it begin?
I’m a by-product of rebellious brain chemicals.
Oppressive, heavy, and suffocating,
Venom that takes over your mind,
Your body, your life.
Slowly eating away at you.
But then there are the times when it creeps in gradually, like a mist, so subtle that I scarcely notice it until I’m in so deep in mud, I can barely stand.
Depression is a nightmare from which it is extremely difficult to awake. Regular activities have again become incredibly difficult. Just getting out of bed and surviving the day is a huge accomplishment.
My depression seems to be the worse at night, while my boys sleep. I lie awake, distracted by the silence that only serves to amplify my racing thoughts, and physical pain. At times, there are very real feelings of suffocation drowning, difficulty breathing, and tightness in my chest. I yearn for something to help me sleep, but could I trust myself to hold a full bottle of sleeping pills in my hand? These feelings are sometimes terrifying and confusing.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
I’m going through a manic phase at the very moment, but I don’t how long it will last. For the past several days I have been rapid recycling, which means my moods are going from extreme highs to extreme lows in a short amount of time. It’s not the regular I’m sad because... My dog ran away, or even someone died...it’s far worse, and has no reason to why it happens. Then there is the other side where I’m happy, full of energy, but the weird part is I will burst out laughing or smile to myself after just recalling a memory. At least the laughing is a pleasant thing to go through.
Now instead of hating everything, I have started liking things too much. I have a thousand ideas running through my head, but no time to write them down, because I also need to paint the cabinets again, sweep down all the cobwebs from the ceilings in the house, pull the weeds from my flower bed, re-arrange things in my kitchen, etc. Etc....What I really fucking hate is that this will sometimes only last a day or two for me then it’s right back into the shit hole of depression, then nothing will get done and I want to tell the entire world to go to hell again.
Stress Release thought for the day....
Procrastination is stressful. Whatever you want to do tomorrow, do today; whatever you want to do today, do it now.
Last walk before the rain
If only I had known
I would have walked a different path.
I’m staring at things I can’t touch.
I just can’t stay out of trouble.
This life just hasn’t turned out to be what I thought it would be.
I haven’t seen the sunshine in three damn days.
I’m wearing the same clothes I wore yesterday.
It’ll never be the way it use to be.
I get tried of listen to the sound of my tears.
I’m always in the dark.
Every step I take is painful.
I’m like a little child who misses her teddy bear.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate all law enforcement, just about half. It’s mostly the ones who come at me with attitudes, and I can immediately tell they can’t stand my ass. Sorry I’ve got mental problems...do you fucking want them? I sure in the hell don’t. I wish it was as easy as just giving them to someone else, at least for a little while.
I have a friend who knows several of the officers around here, and this person let me know a little bit about what the officers around here think about me. It was no surprise to me at all some of the things I was told. Maybe I did a better job than what I thought in making them hate me. I know Randy Rains wouldn’t mind putting a bullet into my worthless ass, along with several officers from Sand Springs. I guess I’ve made a few enemies. Fuck all of ya’ll. I’m onto other things.
A person sent me an email asking me to post a picture of my ‘accident’, and at first I really didn’t want to do that, but I’ve changed my mind.
It’s been 9 days since the incident, and I have so far been able to keep it hidden from everyone around me. It has been stressing me a little knowing that I can’t let anyone see it and I have to wear long sleeves constantly. I still don’t want to explain it to them, because I still don’t have an answer to why I did what I did. Maybe some day I will figure it out.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
I’ve been thinking about what someone said to me, about wanting to know why I didn’t make my blog private. Especially since I have someone harassing me. When I first started this blog a couple of years ago, I did have it set to private, but then I went back and began reading some of my own post, and what I read even frightened me a little. I could see that some of my post were not ‘normal’, and I questioned my own sanity more than once.
One of my many voices convinced me to let the world see my thoughts, in hopes of it keeping me from reacting on one of my many bizarre thoughts. Big people know now why I’m so sad, and knowing that has helped me to avoid acting out.
The first few days after my arrest, I felt alert, more aware of what was going on around me. That feeling is already starting to fade. Stress is taking over and I feel like I’m wading through waist deep mud, with concrete buckets attached to my feet. Amazingly I don’t feel like cutting myself, which is where my thoughts usually take me when I want to feel normal again.
I don’t know if meds are the answer to making me feel more human, and a part of me is terrified to try any type of new drug, so I feel lost. I thought about trying to get an appointment to see a psychiatrist, but for now, I don’t have a way to get there. My insurance is not going to pay to see a therapist, so I keep making these excuses, letting one of my many voices tell me that there is nothing wrong with me, it’s the rest of the world.
Until I’m probably forced into getting some sort of help, I’ll be on here, writing about the way I feel and how my past continues to fuck with my mind.
Monday, April 07, 2008
If you want to read about good news, rainbows, butterflies, lollipops, little children smiling, jokes or anything else that makes you smile, you can go to this blog
A short part of my life story...
I was 18 at the time and continued to sleep in my Uncles garage. At night, I would go walking up town looking for someone or something that would make things seem better.
I walked into Roy’s Wreck center and saw Sammy sitting there talking to someone. I hadn't seen her in a few months and quickly went to see what she was up to. She said she was living in town now and wanted to know if I wanted to go riding around with her and the guy she was staying with. Eager to do something I quickly said yes.
His name was Larry and drove a red convertible car. I got in the back and we drove around through town acting like fools, yelling, drinking and just cutting up. After several hours of driving around drinking, we made a stop back at Roy's for a quick bathroom break. Sammy finished first and headed back to the car. When I finished and walked out a fireman who knew my name, stopped me and ask who the girl was I was with.
"Oh, that’s was just Sammy. She’s a friend of mine."
“Boy, she sure is fine. Those long legs of hers I would love to wrap around them", he said smiling big.
At first, I was surprised he was talking to me, but when he talked about Sammy, I understood why. Sammy was very pretty, skinny, long legs, long blonde hair, most men fantasized about her.
Laughing a little, I said, "I'll let her know."
"Oh no, don't say anything to her", he said with a boyish grin.
I smiled again and said I would see him later. Then I walked outside to meet with Sammy. Larry had bought a bottle from the liquor store and handed it to Sammy. She quickly opened it and took a big drink, then handed it to me and I did the same. After a couple hours, Larry was ready to go home, but Sammy and I weren't, so we had him drop us off up town. We walked through town several times, drinking and talking.
Around midnight we were stopped by a police officer that I knew. I could tell he liked Sammy by the way he talked to her. I didn't look at them in that way, but Sammy did. The only thing was she said she was a little frightened of them, so I agree to stay with her when she talked to them. I tried not to pay to much attention to what they were saying, and I couldn’t look him in the eyes. If I did for even a second I felt like I wanted to vomit, but Sammy was a good friend and I did it because I wanted to please her.
He wasn't the only one, over the next few weeks I was going with Sammy to their houses. At first I was having a hard time being so close to them, but Sammy was drawn to them as much as they were to her, so I began being able to tolerate them.
On different nights, we would go out drinking with whatever officer we had met earlier in the day. At first, I didn't want to go and let them know up front that they could go out by themselves. But Sammy always insisted that I go with her and of course the officer would invite me along, just so he could get a chance at being with her. I knew this and I didn't let it bother me. Still, I always felt out of place, but I went along because Sammy was my best friend.
The first officer Sammy dated came to picked us up after he had gotten from work. Sammy and I had already been drinking when he picked us up and planned on drinking even more. He stopped off and picked up a case of beer then we headed to Double Creek. We parked near the boat ramp and he got out and walked to the back of his truck. He took out a black suitcase that had several types of drugs inside. He took a few pills from a bottle and gave Sammy and me 2 each of the pills.
We talked and drank some more before heading back to his place. By the time we got there, my speech was slurred and on top of what I had already drunk I was feeling pretty good. Still at his place, we had a few more beers. It was really late and I was ready to lay down. Not really wanting to stay but, Sammy liked him and asked me to please stay. He said it was okay if I slept on the couch. I finally agreed and laid down while him and Sammy continued talking.
Even being drunk, it takes me forever to fall asleep. I silently lay there with my eyes closed for a least an hour every time I try to go to sleep. I can remember being this way since around the age of eight. I would always lay there, thinking, wondering, listening, being scared. Once I did get asleep, I would quickly wake back up in a short amount of time and it would then sometimes take me hours to go back to sleep. If that didn't happen and I stayed asleep, then I would awake very early in the morning at any sound that I heard.
This made me feel very jumpy all the time. I feel like jumping out of my skin if I'm confronted with anything that even remotely resembles a threat. I try to steer far clear from that type of danger or anything that reminded me of it. I was always told this was nature's way of teaching us a painful but important lesson, but my reactions sometimes would get out of hand.
This time I laid there on the officers couch, until I heard them go into his bedroom. A short time later I could hear them having sex. At first, I tried to blow it off and let them have their fun; after all, it was their business. For some reason, after a few minutes it began to really bother me. I opened my eyes and saw his picture on the wall in his uniform, and I began feeling uneasy and anxiety took over. I took several deep breaths repeatedly trying to calm myself, but I just couldn't relax.
I quickly and quietly put back on my shoes and walked outside heading back uptown. I stopped by a Quik-Mart and bought a single beer and a pack of cigarette's then headed towards my Uncles garage. I was almost there, when Sammy and him came driving up in his truck. Sammy rolled down the window and asked where I was going.
"Why?” Sammy asked puzzled.
I thought to myself for a moment then said, "Why? Because, you got what you wanted, so I wanted to go home. I didn't want to stick around. Just leave me alone, alright."
I really wasn't making a lot of sense. All I knew was I was done for the night and wanted to go home, away from him. Away from the way I was feeling. I felt I couldn't tell them the noise bother me, they would think I was nuts. Which as I walked on home, I thought maybe I was. Inside, I felt like I was falling apart.
Sammy stopped by the next morning and tried to convince me nothing had happened between him and her. I thought it was great that she was with him, it was just I couldn't be there. I still recalled vividly, the bad memories from around 9 months before, of my experience with the first LEO(law enforcement officer) I ever met face to face. The memories still haunted me.
I let her know we were still friends and I didn't care if that’s what she wanted to do, it was her own business. She said she was sorry but police officers turned her on, because they were hot looking, strong and fun to be around. I laughed and told her I was just having a hard time seeing them that way. She tried repeatedly to convince me that they were normal people, just like us. I wasn't seeing it yet, and I wasn't sure if I ever would.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Friday, April 04, 2008
April 4, 2008
I finally fell asleep around 5am this morning. Before finally fading off into a deep dreamless sleep, I kept thinking about when I first started having intrusive thoughts. I think it started somewhere around age 8 or 9 when I was being sexually abused. I would make my mind go somewhere else while my hands were tied above my head, and pictures were being taken with an instance camera. I would just squeeze tightly closed my blue green eyes and begin telling myself a story about whatever I could think of. Sometimes it would be about my knight in shinning armor on his white horse, riding in and slaying my father. A razor sharp sword to the middle of his back, blood squirting out in all directions, his heart sometimes on the end of the blade being held high into the air by my rescuer. Sometimes I even imaged the hand of God reaching down out of the sky, grabbing him, throwing him threw the air, smashing his body against a concert wall, or throwing his body over a cliff. I would secretly smile watching his body fall far to the earth below, smashing into the sharp, jagged rocks below, brain matter, guts, blood, squirting everywhere.
But no one ever came. No knight, no hand of God, no one. After a few years, the thoughts just became a normal process for my brain. I didn’t have to think about my reality around me, so I began enjoying the moments I could let my mind go somewhere else.
I used to keep a diary when I was around that age, writing down the stories that I had imaged while being abused, and even some of the things my father did to me. One day, someone found the little white notebook, and I became so frightened that it was my father and he would beat me, that I stopped writing anything for a while. Instead at night before I would fall asleep, I would tell myself a story until I would fall asleep. I don’t know if it was my father who found it, or someone else, but afterwards my father didn’t touch me again until around the time my younger brother was shot.
Now days, without even thinking about it, when I get stressed, my mind begins telling me stories. They work their way into the deepest parts of my brain and just mingle around like at a some big social party. The more I tell myself not to think bizarre thoughts, the more intrusive they become. I began writing down some of my stories in 2004, in hopes of being able to get the thoughts out of my mind. I think I was worst in 2004, I felt like a ticking time bomb. Writing since then has released a few demons, even though there are many more still crawling around in my brain.
I may have these MSPSYCHOS THOUGHTS, but I believe that is mostly what they are, unwanted psycho thoughts and nothing more. I have no plan, or intent to do anyone harm.
Click you heels three times, and say I wanna go home.
I wanna go home.
I wanna go home.
I wanna go back to when I was 5 years old and start my life all over again. Except for when I run away this time, I don’t ever come back.
I’m still not able to sleep yet, 37 hours and counting, I laid down for a couple of minutes, but I felt like I had that restless leg syndrome, so I’m back up walking around looking like some sad discarded old dog. I want to go into my garage and smoke until I puke (if that’s possible), but when the nice officers came to arrest me, I got rid of the only 3 joints I had left. I could easily go get more, but I better chill for now, I’m not sure the boys in blue are done with getting their jollies.
Stress is eating me up right now. I had to dig out my last couple of Loritabs that I had from when I first injured my knee, and took one about an hour ago, but it has yet to do anything. I twisted my knee just bad enough yesterday, that it is giving me a lot of pain when I try to walk. So, between the stress and the pain, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to use something. OK, YES I’M A FUCKING ADDICT!!
Shadows are dancing,
but there is no light to make a shadow.
Consumed by dreadful thoughts,
I want to drift away to another place.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
I know my stress is what's casuing my insomnia right now, but I know my body will/must eventually begin to shut down and hopefully sleep will then come. As long as I don't reach the point of insomnia where I have begun to hallucinate. It's been a long time since that happened.
Happy thought, I’d like to meet the person responsible for talking trash on my site, take him to a museum, hang him on the wall, criticize him and then leave.
I’m going to write this with having zero sleep, so if it comes out sounding fucked up, you’ll know why. Yesterday I was arrested for application to revoke a one year suspended sentence on Possession of Marijuana. I’ve had the warrant since August 2005, from where I didn’t/couldn’t complete my community service, due to the fact that I was put in the hospital for a week, and then it was one thing after another and I never got around to completing the hours.
After the jackass yaS reported what I had posted, which I figured he would, a few more of his friends made there way to my site. After finding out who I was, they of course ran a check on me and discovered that lovely warrant that has been hanging over my head for too damn long. When I made the post it was in the back of my mind that I could be arrested, but in a way I was ready to get it over with. I’ve barely left my house in the past two years, so this forced me back out into the real world again.
I was arrested by the Glenpool PD Officer Mobley (hope I spelled that right. Nice guy, smiles a lot.) around 3:45pm and was taken to the local jail. I did okay for a minute, but only a minute. I don’t know if I want to write about this next part or not. I’m thinking about it for a minute or two. I haven’t even told anyone in my family about it yet, and I probably won’t. I’m keeping my sleeves pulled down, just to make sure no one sees. I don’t want them to see, because they will want to know why I did what I did, and sometimes I just don’t have a reason why.
I mostly cut when I get stressed. It’s like I go somewhere else, and when I’m done cutting I return to a more normal state. That’s usually when I say to myself, what the FUCK!
I’m a cutter...shhhh...don’t tell.
Its socially unacceptable that I express pain.
I bleed just so I’ll know I’m alive.
Pain doesn’t hurt when it’s all you’ve ever felt.
I don’t know what the young man’s name was, but I guess I should thank him now that I feel a little more normal...well as normal as I’ll be. Part of it, I think I have already blanked out, like the first initial cut, but I do remember asking for some toilet paper, because I didn’t want to make a mess on the floor or on me. I guess that’s the OCD. The young man handed me the toilet paper and I thought he had walked away, but I guess for whatever reason he looked back, and that’s when he saw what I had done. I don’t know how far I would have went had he not looked back. Probably further than the seven stitches.
At the hospital, I had a real nice baby sitter, Corporal T. I liked him, mostly because of his remark that he didn’t need no stinking taser. I like that in an officer...lol.
Officer M returned to the hospital to take me on to the county, and as we drove the short distance, we talked a little about my past. Telling him just a small part of my life, almost brought me to tears right there. I still can’t face my past, and I damn straight can’t talk about it to someone’s face. Maybe someday I can let it all go.
I finally got to the jail around 7pm, and surprisingly I wasn’t treated like a drain on society, I actually felt ok...Or maybe it was the xanax that I had taken before the cops picked me up. It could also have been that the Sheriffs department is running the jail again. Or it could have been that a camera crew from American Jail was there. (God, I hope they don’t put my ugly ass on TV.) Whatever it was, expect for the ridiculous amount of time I had to just sit around and wait, it wasn’t the bad experience that I figured would take place. I know it is my own actions that lead to some of the bad experiences I have had, but not all of them.
I finally made it out of jail around 4am, $600 dollars poorer, but at least now I don’t have a warrant hanging over my head. (Watch out, I’m now able to freely roam the streets again. That’s not a threat...just a little bit of my sick twisted humor.) I laid down in bed around 5am, but was never able to drift asleep, finally I got up and took a long hot shower before being at court by 9am.
Last thought, then I have to get some sleep...I want to know from the Sand Springs police department...if it wasn’t one of the officers from around there who has been harassing me, then who was the person that contacted you about the post “Late Night”?
And everyone, if you don’t want to read about fucked up, weird, off the wall, crazy ass, stupid, sad, painful, nasty shit that I write, don’t come to my site. It will still be here, and anytime I feel the need to post some insane thoughts from my head, I will post them. It is better to post them, than to keep them locked in my head.