Tag Archives: torture

ride upon your stallion


Have you ever heard a song that stole your heart, your mind and your very soul?  I think all of us have songs that fulfill something in our lives.  Some music may make us happy or remind us of another time or even give us hope for the future.  My experience with people during the last few years has shown me how passionate one can be about music and/or lyrics.  Styles and genre is debated all the time.  I’ve learned so much from so many about music.  I don’t ever want to stop learning.

Today I heard a song that, years ago, moved me to such an extreme it changed my life and my relationship with myself.  It may not have that effect on anyone else in the world but this is something I can own and I’m marvelling at how much it still gets to me.  It’s remarkable how much it did affect me back then and how changed I am now.  It just clicked!  I feel I’ve worked harder than I thought.

It’s a song about war and a soldier who is in battle, exhausted, weak and alone.

I first heard this Tom Cochrane song back in 1995.  My sister gave me a tape she made me for my birthday and it was the last song on the 120 minute tape so it took a while to get to it.  On this day, I plunked that tape in my trusty Walkman for my daily walk in 28C heat.  I loved to walk in the heat then.

It was an amazing time for me…just bought a house with my boyfriend who had balked about committment for 4 years, my son was the light of my life and could do no wrong, I had a job I loved, some actual girlfriends, I was in great shape for the first time in ages, my parents were healthy and I had a decent relationship with most of my siblings.  I was loved.

On this walk I was finally almost at the end of the tape when the song came on.  As I listened. I could feel the heat from the sun on my face and the sweat running down my body.  Halfway though the song my legs felt weak and I sank onto the grass nearby.  I played that song over and over, crying like my heart was broken in little pieces.

Well, it was.

Shut your eyes my darling there’s nothing you can say
the man in the moon won’t fall on you
he doesn’t live there anyway
you don’t have to be a soldier to fight in your private war
let the blood you might see rain down on me
you don’t have to fight no more

I saw pictures in my head.  I saw a very little girl with bright, curly hair and old eyes.  I saw a man on a white horse reaching down for the fragile little thing and pulling her up to sit in front of him, wrapping his cape and strong arms around her.  He dried her tears and hid her fears for a time, just to show her it can be done.  He knew that all she wanted was for someone else to take the pain from her but she couldn’t let that happen because she couldn’t wish it upon anyone.

there’s nothing you can say
there’s nothing you can send
there’s nothing that can change the facts
not all the king’s men

That little girl spoke to the strong man and told him and his horse about the fear that has filled her nights in a home where she should be safe from harm and of the fear of people she loved.

He could hear her screaming.

Have you ever cried until there were no tears left? I did that day as I listened to that song again and again.  I could see that little tiny girl grow up to go to school, filled with incredible fear and loathing.  I could see what she saw; a scarred and ugly girl in school where it was kind of hard to make friends because if you looked at her funny she would cry.  She was afraid of everything.

By fourth grade there was a new abuser to take the place of the one before.  He had taken it upon himself to torture that girl and did, until high school.  Unspeakable days and nights.  The bath was her friend; so cleansing and it was the only room with a lock on the door.

ride upon your stallion
and I’ll ride upon your mare
we’ll ride so far, ride so hard
far away from here
and when we look back upon it
it all will become so clear
and the gates will open up for us
and we wont have no more fear
there’s nothing u can say
there’s nothing u can send
there’s nothing that can change the facts
not all the kings men

I know there are a lot of little girls out there just like this one.  She’s special to me though because she lives inside me and won’t go away.  Its been rather awkward sometimes, because the more I push her away the more she’s in my face.

there’s nothing you can say
there’s nothing you can send
there’s nothing that can change the facts
not all the king’s men
look away look away

you might be tired and troubled but not today
when they come down upon you
I won’t let them get anything on you
and we’ll dream away all those fears and troubles may
look away

we both were motherless children
they sent us separate ways
the family you’d seen beat down on you
mine it was okay
I’ve come to take you back now may
save you from this fate
they won’t have any more chances
to treat you this way

I’ve been in therapy for a long time because of that kid. My love/hate for her has eaten up a lot of my life.  She has made me strong though and, no matter what, I needed her.  If only she had known about me during her time. If only she had known how strong she would be.

I was brave enough a few years ago to go to the police and press charges against my abuser because I could see him grooming another girl and this girl was one I loved too.  The Crown couldn’t take it further because of the time that had elapsed but I had done it; I went on video, told that little girl’s story and dragged up details I thought were gone.  I sat through and answered every embarrassing and difficult question perfect strangers had for me, describing things in achingly painful detail.  I managed to stop him anyway.  I think he lives in fear of me now.

I found out recently my abuser lives less than a block from where I live.

Stronger.

A survivor.  I’m no longer a victim.

there’s nothing you can say
there’s nothing you can send
there’s nothing that can change all that
not all the king’s men

Now I’m listening to “All the King’s Men” by Tom Cochrane for the first time in many years.  I have been on a journey for a very long time, which most of my readers know, and I can see that horse as I listen and look into my heart. There is someone reaching down for that little tiny girl but it’s not a man at all. Not anymore.

It’s the 51-year-old …

me.

u don’t have to be a soldier
to fight in your private war
let the blood u might see rain down on me
u don’t have to fight no more

Holding you tight.  And Our heart is whole again.

Advertisements

Peace…


I know what I’ve written may read rather all over the place.  I’ve edited as much as I’m able to.  I’m satisfied though, that my message is clear.  I ask not to be judged and appreciate your support.

When will this ridiculous disorder decide what it’s going to do already?  I’ve had enough of new or exaggerated symptoms.  I want a way out of this prison that is holding my brain hostage and my life in limbo.

I’ve experienced the deep, dark blue of depression where it was all I could do to hold on to my life.  I’ve even lived through the highs: racing thoughts, reckless abandon with money, big ideas.    What I was not prepared for was the all encompassing consumption of this disease, even while on meds.

Consumed.

I’ve been consumed with various things for weeks, none being productive nor good for me.  I mentioned my racing mind.  That’s a huge symptom and the springboard for the others.

The worst times are the nights.

I stay up until 3 or 4 in the morning.  Every day.  Not easy getting up at 7:30.  Not good either, considering I’ve been going to a wonderful program and working at my contract part-time job.  The job was only for 2 weeks and I did lousy at it.  I’ll be lucky if they call me again.  Both the program and the job ended this past weekend.

What do I do during the night?  Why, I’m right here.  For weeks not writing in my blog  as some of you may have noticed.  Not researching jobs I should be applying for.

No.

I’m on dating sites.  Talking to strangers who really aren’t pretending to want to know me except in the carnal sense of the word.  I could think of nothing else but to see whether anyone had messaged me.  I even checked my phone while at work, taking more breaks than allowed.  Even as I write this I’m peeking at the other page to see who’s on.

Men messaged me, saying all the nice things I wanted to hear.  Good thing there was SOME judgement left in me where I made sure to talk to them for quite a while before meeting them.  I even had a safe plan if I was to meet anyone.   One guy went ballistic when I gave my view on porn after he asked.  A real bully and potential emotional terrorist.  Didn’t meet that one, but it was close.

Another man seemed to be perfect.  He was very spiritual and funny.  So amazing looking in his pictures; what could he possibly want with me?  He didn’t talk about sex at all until about a week of talking online and then it was for one evening and, charmingly,  he was filled with regret the next day.  I made the mistake of letting him read my blog.  So here is this stranger reading about the most vulnerable times in my life.  I was so anxious I did the wrong thing.  He assured me otherwise.  He felt closer to me than ever.

Then, a few days later, he stopped answering my messages and emails.  I only sent 3 as I did not want to look more pathetic.  I was devastated.  We were just about to meet in person. He played me like some kind of stringed instrument with a background of primal african drums. When I got to my Sara Riel program the next day I couldn’t focus and I cried throughout the class.  The other participants and the facilitator were so wonderful.  I stayed until the end of the day and wallowed for a couple more but went on with my life, as it was. One morning, I woke up and it was done.  But now the other symptoms were becoming more apparent.  In hindsight that is.

I only met one fellow in person and ended up hurting and confusing him with my scattered thinking and poor judgement.  I felt nothing for the guy except that he was funny, made me laugh and feel good.  As a matter of fact I felt shocked that this was the first time in my history with men that I didn’t imagine I was in love with someone I was with or even turned on with HIM.  I was clingy and paranoid.  I accused him of things that were ridiculous.

Sex had consumed me and my every thought and movement. There seemed to be no way to stop.  It was destroying my life.

This had never, ever happened to me before. “Hypersexuality” it’s called. Thank god it’s ending now. Unfortunately, that usually means a crash. I hope I’m ready for it.

I was also drinking.  Every day.  Weeks of it.  Never giving a thought as to how this fucks up my meds.  It wasn’t until tonight I realized there is something definitely wrong with me and did some research.  I found out that not only does alcohol retard the effects of the medication I take, it also can cause death, and not rarely either.  My meds affect my central nervous system and, mixed with alcohol, are lethal.

For those of you who are living with bi-polar disorder or who love someone who is, please visit this website here.  Read it, read it, read it.

Now for my plan:

  • It’s cold outside but I am going to walk at least a block every day and slowly add to it.
  • Somehow I have to limit my time on the Web.  That’s so hard to do since my life is so isolated.
  • I will read more and even watch TV.
  • I have to stay off that dating website as much as possible.
  • I will eat better and buy groceries.
  • I will NOT drink alcohol at all.

Thank you all for being here with me and making it all the way through this post.

I wasn’t sure I was going to.

Peace

Curves


I’m going to apologize in advance to all who read my words at this time.  My life has, once again, taken a turn for the worse.  I think my next couple of posts will be on the oh so tragic, poor me, side. If I can post anything at all.

My heart hurts, my life hurts.

I lost my job and I lost it because of me, who I am and I’m just no good.  My brain is confused and has been for months.  The near misses when I’m driving, the forgetting where I am or even what I’m doing. The paranoia that drive many people away from me is on full attack.  I’m at the door and windows half the night watching and waiting for some one to come for me.  This is even on a doctor approved triple dose of my anti anxiety medication and I can’t sleep.

I think I’m sick.

I think I’m sick again.  Now I’ve lost my job due to my incompetence and have no way to provide for my family. I’m in no shape to work and no one will want to hire me.

I had the presence of mind to go to Employment Insurance who told me, even though I was fired, I might still collect from them.  I had walked in there, thinking it was the welfare office and realized later that I must have known it wasn’t.  They were very kind.  I must have looked pretty awful because the woman behind the desk came out and led me to a chair where she explained to me about filling out the form online.  She led me over to a computer and got me started and introduced a man who would be around if I needed help.  I checked the time, not that I had anywhere to go.  I stared at the screen for a while, reading each word carefully, using all my energy to be focused on this one task.  I started to type; to fill in the blanks.  It was then I noticed how bad I was shaking.  The kind man was right there as I held my head in my hands, willing my body to have some class, some dignity.  He ended up filling in the claim for me.  I sat there and shook and shook and answered the questions he asked me. Except for my address.  I had to find something with my new address on it.  Even as I left I lurched into a couple of chairs, sending one of them skidding into the aisle.  More humiliation before 10:30 am.  This had taken 2 hours of my pathetic life.

I called welfare from my car after EI and I go Tuesday after I see my GP who had called me about test results that were a “concern”.  Great.

Soon no car.  Soon no phone.

After calling welfare I went to my lawyer’s office to stop him from proceeding on my domestic case against my Ex.  I couldn’t afford a lawyer.  He was so kind and assigned his son to take my case as he does the Legal Aid in the office.  Good.

I went to the grocery store and bought 4 things.  I don’t know what they were.

I got home and went to take off my shoes and realized I had worn my slippers all day.  What a stereotype of mental illness I must have looked like, shuffling along in my slippers, clothes that don’t fit because I’m so swollen.  None of my shoes fit either as my feet are double the size.  I could not afford the medication I take to get rid of the swelling and had to get my psych meds so something had to go.

I had seen Dr. G. shortly after I was fired.  He’s not talking about putting me on disability again; he wants me in a 4 week program that is supposed to help me get back to work and deal with my psych issues.  Today I got in touch with them and I’m set for an interview/intake for Monday.

I had to tell my ex tonight that I lost my job.  He had brought money for “child support” (I would laugh but it’s pathetic) and he immediately made noises of taking our daughter.  I promised my sister I wouldn’t tell him I applied for welfare this means I’m able to get Legal Aid get the frigging money he’s supposed to be giving me.  There is a risk of him deciding to just cut me off now and wait for a court decision.  He would too.  He resents every pitiful cent.

Today, 2 days after leaving the office, I slept.  I slept all day.  I know that’s bad.  I couldn’t help it.  I got up and drove my girl to school and came home, crawled into bed.  I got up once after a couple of hours only to realize I was falling asleep drinking a cup of tea which sloshed on my shaking hand, waking me.

My sister said a wise thing last night(?):

 Hopefully this is your rock bottom and all you can do is go up from here.

I figure I must be stronger than I think.  I’ve been grabbing onto anything I can to be alive.  I welcome the numbness my meds are bringing me right now. Today there were all kinds of posts on FB and the internet about suicide.  My thoughts were definitely in this direction. I don’t know how the hell I’m holding on, my threads are my children, my sister, my precious few friends and even my cat. These are the things that keep me alive.

I want to do something.  I NEED to do something.  I don’t know what to do. I’ve done what I can.

I feel bad for those I let down.  This is my punishment.  Who the hell do I think I am.

I want to be somebody again.

Rip and Buzz


Many young woman face a certain phase in their lives.  Some do nothing and just let nature take its course, maybe take the easy way, while others will stare at it, head on, with vision, bravery and, yes, a little naivtey.  How best to meet this problem?  It’s one that always comes back so a good plan is important, and it will, hopefully, be used throughout womanhood.  My Daisy* was faced with an unspeakable suffering yesterday.  I let it happen.  I couldn’t stop it.  My poor, brave, agonized Daisy.

No this is not about her period.  She would kill me.  She will anyway because I said “period”.

This is what I heard almost as soon as I got home from the hospital:  “MOM!!!!  I’m going to CAMP for a WEEK and how the HECK am I supposed to SHAVE my LEGS?  Can we buy the wax strips, please?”  This conversation had been going on for a while now with me telling her she had to grow the hair on her legs first and she was horrified she would have to wait a week or two.

I explained to her how painful it would be.  I don’t think she believed me.  So off we went to the store and bought wax strips that wouldn’t need to be microwaved.  Not that it matters.  Belatedly, I checked her legs.  Two days of stubble.  Oh boy.  She was sheepish and pointed out the strips were made for short hair.  Of course, what did I know; I’ve only waxed, sugared, tweezed, shaved, buffed and epilated for years.

“Sure sweetie, worth a try.”

She insisted on no help from me at all.  So, armed with her box of strips she locked herself in the bathroom.  I waited.  I waited some more.  I thought maybe she changed her mind.

“Mom?”  “Yes, sweetheart?”  “So how bad will it hurt?  I’m afraid.”  I told her she could do it and it would hurt like hell but her leg will be bald.  “okay” she said in a teeny tiny voice.

Then, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I hear my poor baby gasping for air.  I was at the door in an instant but she would not let me in.  Seconds later I hear AAAAAAAAIIIIIIII.  Wow.  She did it again.  And then she did it again.  I stood outside that door listening to my little girl scream and realized how, more and more, she is becoming a very strong woman.  She faced this problem along with its pain and stuck with it to the end.  I was so proud of her at that moment.  Listening to her cries, I beamed with pride.

Crazy momma.

“Mom, not all the hair came off! And I still have to do my armpits.  What do I do now?”  I told her I had an epilator.  “What does it do?”  I didn’t have the heart to tell her but I did.  She actually went white.

“Get it for me please Mom”  I did, set it up, gave it to her.  This time I stood outside her bedroom door listening to buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzOWowowowOWOWZZZZZZOWOWowowzzzowOWowowow

Yep, she did the pits too.  And no bad words at all.  She walks like Frankenstein now.  But she is gonna look great at camp once the rashes go away.

*Name changed to protect me from you-know-who.