I can, and it is legal

I decided to write two blogs tonight.

why?

Because I can, it's legal, I want to, and I am facing one hell of a day tomorrow.

I am walking into a situation having to do with a courtroom(apparently your not aloud to speak about court proceedings with those not family and not involved directly so sorry for anyone who wonders-can't tell ya-the law dictates that not me).

I get to NOT know a lick about court apparel and walk in. I assume pajamas's are not appropriate but all I can get out of my lawyer is not to dress like a slut. oh yeah... "just no mini skirts or slutty tops", because being the frumpy displaced housewife who doesn't get cloths very often cuz they and the material are expensive(and my cloths are fine... I think-never be too sure I suppose) I am I SO own something like that. NOT! I don't own a miniskirt... though i do own some short shorts I use in case a skirt fly's up in the wind. I DO have a couple of shirts that show a little cleavage...  but I suppose what I have NOT got is any clue how your supposed to dress for court.

I am wearing a paint stained shirt that was once a nightshirt(when I was a kid-then I grew... I take care of my cloths), a pair of jeans and of course the regular other stuff(just got back from getting a couple necessities from a store nearby too- didn't wanna go too far at this time of night on a day many idiots drink and drive so I only went to circle k and got enough to last till I have to go to the store tomorrow evening), anyway... I assume paint stains are not considered appropriate. the problem I suppose really is, I know what I SHOULDN'T wear to court but I have absolutely NO idea what your ARE supposed to wear to court, and thus, am kinda wondering  if I missed something I am NOT supposed to wear.

I prefer t-shirt and jeans... mini skirts are not even a consideration while I shop for cloths. so I am conservative... and i take care of my older cloths and only buy new ones if I can afford it... actually I would prefer to have mostly black cloths as I once did but... my body type changed after I had kids. *pouts* so I am stuck with cloths I don't really like most of. to me though, I don't even really like skirts... I just wear it cuz cloths are cloths to me. I joined "club style" in school cuz I enjoyed sewing and the like... not because I was a fashion geek, though I do design some pretty neat stuff... just... I prefer fashion on OTHER people, not me. my fashion is my own... but I must confess... I really don't have any idea on what court attire should be besides a pants suit and I don't own one of those. I don't even know that due to anyone telling me... I just observed. when I ask nobody tells me... so yeah, I am  just gonna hope I get it right.... hm... maybe a sweater with an undershirt and jeans... no, a skirt? UG! I hate skirts so I am biased in sitchuations I know traditionally are considered more skirt appropriate for females... and my one pair of dress pants itch. the material is atrocious... and I don't like the stripes anyway. I prefer plain or tasteful designs... so perhaps I do like fashion... I just prefer MY fashion to anyone Else's.

so... I am having trouble finding a job not the one I have as of now. OK, I must confess, with all my previous experience, the voice portion of being a phone sex operator makes me feel like a whore. I do however, write erotic stories that I haven't yet had published... I have no idea how to even go about that. talking about it... with all due respect I promised myself I wouldn't go back to anything like that when I managed to get away from the things my grandmother made me do. I was tarot reading but insufferable people don't like the truth and it is a struggle for me to not give it in full. the job I have as of now is pretty bad... your not allowed to hang up and I wasn't told "no taboo" until I was already working for their company. their are times I can tell you exactly why they hung up. their is no such thing as a person with "no taboos". everyone has them. Mine (over the phone, in person my husband used to call me a prude as do friends who know it by conversation about such... what odd conversations those are too-I swear they do it just to see me light up like a frigging Christmas tree-doesn't matter anyway about my physical taboos-I refuse to have sex anymore anyway-husband was the last straw for me) involve no rape, no children involvement(though I have done my best to do as I have been told by the company and pretend to be a kid when asked-not my strong suit at ALL as I go into flashbacks from my own experiences), and finally... other than playing pretend about my twin still being alive, I will not even think about incest... ICK! it makes me think of my brother and sister... which makes me wanna puke. I endured because I was left with the choice of them or me, that idea was held over my head... it is the last thing I wanna think of.

I am ashamed of my job. It makes me feel dirty and like a whore all over again. I didn't choose it the first time and had I had other options I would have not chosen it this time... at the very least this time it is not my body and is in some way shape or form a KIND of choice... though to me it really isn't much of one at all... but at least it isn't like before... a bright side. the glass is still half full as it were.

I don't get paid much at all... I will need another job to cover stuff next month. as it is, I have been avoiding logging in until I reach my "set" hours I set for myself... because I do need the money.

I am of course, shy and therefore... no matter how much I hide the stuttering by holding my breath or using the "um" and "uh" and the *hold breath until not going to stutter*... pft, I was in parli pro, though I wasn't the best and never actually made it on the acting team itself... I do think quick on my feet and I DO know how to avoid basic shyness issues in public speaking... ug! I was an officer in my chapter ffa. we HAD to get over that a bit... so yeah, the ironiy is I can get on a stage and SING but seeking leaves me terrified... actually so does singing but I enjoy that so I just get "lost" in the song for lack of a better word.

I am willing to work obscene hours, and do the job I am asked to do without complaints(well I have plenty in my journal but that is because a diary is the place you put that stuff)... the only "taboo" I have for a work place is while I don't mind JOKING about stuff with coworkers after awhile or listening to them joke about it... to me, sex and touching need to be NOT part of my job or the things even remotely said to be considered what is expected of me. basically... I draw the line at sexual harassment.

I don't care if I am considered a prude, or "too shy" or whatever. I am not interested in dating or sex... well I laugh at sex in anime... "high school of the dead" is kinda disturbing but after watching so many zombie movies it is enjoyable. when they do the stuff where clothing is inadequate and you KNOW they are implying the girls are horny... or the guys are anyway... I laugh. I think it is absolutely hilarious. this fascination with the human body in general is funny... the sound effects... nothing against the artists and creators... my sense of humor is just plain odd. it isn't funny in real life so much... but I laugh at some of those movies and books... you know, before they cut out(or not in some book*cough*), they have this outlandish thing where everything goes smoothly... yeah, two people drop on the bed with LONG hair that by then would be a messy bundle of "OMG OWE" and nothing gets pulled. This is where I laugh... my sense of humor is just... different.

So I write dirty stories and read dirty stories... actually fanfiction.net has some that make these erotica sites look like they are cleanly done by amateurs.

In my defense as a "decent" woman, I don't typically look for anything of the sort, but when it does show up... I am not afraid to read it. tells a lot about the writer too. I write it into my stories(not smut-and no, not posted... they are not fanfiction) because I feel it pulls you more into the story. so... in real life people can't throw fireballs or  fly or any of that... and when two people have sex it doesn't fade out... so...? when I imagine my stories, which I try to make as "realistic" within fantasy as possible(as much like real people but add in the "supernatural" stuff... which BTW it should be noted I consider an exaggeration of things I really do believe in-just add some imagination and a trip to the other side of the veil between the two and BAM!-I got myself a story where my imagination runs away from me, only the basics start off with any backing.. the rest is all imagination-which makes it annoying when ppl assume real is imaginary... or imaginary is real, I kinda label what I am talking about when it is fantasy...-_-)

Anyway, yeah, I can post twice and it is legal.

What I do in recreation or for work has no barring on anything to do with anything and should have no place in tomorrows issues. When I have the opportunity, I will find another way to provide for my family.

I must confess, while I am shamed of the job itself, I am NOT ashamed to say I do what I must do and am NOT ashamed to say I do what is necessary for me and my family. That is the positive light of this... so yeah, I ended up working a job that is everything I hate(and I will do some pretty screwed up and nasty jobs without any complaints), but I am doing it because I am doing what is necessary. as for why i transferred within the same company? Because I didn't have much of a choice at the time...

I set it for myself to give myself structure... something to rely on when everything is crashing down.

other than that... I am running low bodily on calcium and though I have never been able to figure out why, this means I bruise with barely being touched... so even though I am going to have a massive stomach ache for a couple of hours... tonight's diner and desert involve cheese and ice cream. my fault for letting it go this long anyway. *shrugs* I like ice-cream anyway... I  cheat and eat it very rarely. I need the effects of this kind of ice-cream anyway... my ultimate anti anxiety as it were... and I am completely and totally terrified and stressed to my limit.

anyway, their you go... probably the worst you could ever find out about me too. the funniest thing is I can list everything I ever did wrong my entire life.. including framing my brother for stealing a cookie when we were very little... I felt bad even then but mama was scary when mad and I wanted that cookie! I was about 3 or 4(it was not long before my dad died either)... and we hadn't covered stealing or anything yet so... I didn't really know except that I felt guilty my brother got in trouble instead of me. over the years my brother may have forgotten what started our stupid childhood feud but I never did. it was all that cookie incident. it is stupid... but I never told him i was sorry so I still feel bad about it. again, stupid.

see? I am lame. most adults can't even remember that kinda stuff... but I didn't do it again that was for sure... I was a little kid. Now I am an adult who knows not to do that... so I don't steal... ever.

My husband, who has been fired for stealing more than once, has a job now so what is so wrong with me that they have this anti hiring thing?!

someone at a GAMESTOP pulled this on me. well this is one gamer who won't be going their. I stood behind this guy(not the gamestop really close, the one at the mall at spectrum), was speaking to someone in front of me about interviews and how he would call him for one... then I go up and he suddenly isn't hiring. I tried to convey i knew.... but in the end I just decided it wasn't worth it. I have turned in application to place i knew didn't want to hire me after interactions like that and found it pointless in anything but being spiteful and annoying. store after store in that place told me they would only hire those who spoke FLUENT Spanish. one looked possible but... only cuz the manager was being nice about it. life is life ont hat one and he was very up front in explaining it. the fact that he seemed to want to but was kinda tied up with the need for someone who did... was good I suppose. the rest of them were pretty mean about it, most of them had no real need for another employee who spoke it as they already had plenty who did... that I am learning Spanish had no baring... and if I never apply it in a such a setting I will never become truly fluent in it anyway.  I am of course nowhere NEAR fluent... but that touches a rough spot for me.

that goes against some odd policy effecting hiring and crap but... it wouldn't be the first time.

oi... so yeah, I dont' speak Spanish and wonder if I should fix up my appearance to be more "socially exceptionable" and all that jazz... because apparently my work ethic has absolutely no bearing on hirabilty.

some lazy person who looks like they go to the salon and has fashion sense gets hired over me... makes me wonder if I have to fricking pluck my eyebrows to get a fricking job... since when did that have anything to do with work? you do the job, you don't complain, you move on with your day. How is that so hard?

UG!

My work ethic is good... I do what I am supposed to and am organized, CLEAN, and otherwise qualified so I keep on fricking wondering why I keep on running into such bull!

anyway, I gotta go... I should probably make sure I have everything for tomorrow before I have to prepare myself(mentally) for my job.

anyway... have a nice time after Superbowl, drive safe, and be blessed. ^^

-Luna

new word

I decided to make up a new word today... a word to describe my brother.

Now, he swears he isn't gay or bisexual... "straight" is what he says.

He has no girlfriend(that he has ever mentioned and when I ask he always says no anyway), and spends all of his time with non sexual friend encounters and... cars. My brother has loved cars more than life itself since we were kids. Hot-wheels were his amazing toy, like catnip for cats. as a baby the only thing that could get him to sit still was NASCAR... ironically now something he is proud to watch.

No surprise, my bother grew up to be a mechanic and has pretty much built more than one of his own vehicles... oh sorry "restore" or is it "splice" with the way he makes improvements... I am not a car geek... but I am a geek.

Anyway, the word is... "Carsexual".

Anisexual  can be used for otaku who fall under the "obviously never will mate" anime otaku category... the term is interchangeable with anything the person does to keep out of dating or basically that is more interesting than their respectively appealing gender preference.

should I send this to Websters and then tease him some more... their is now a word to describe my brother and anyone like him... Carsexual.

*laughing maniacally* My brother would so kill me... *rubs hands together* bring it!

stress does odd things to a person doesn't it?

-Luna

poetry

I have written poetry for a long time. I even had an account on poetry.com for a long time... they even published some though I never made any money off of it. I stopped posting their because I felt that was stealing from me. I didn't even know that since I was underage, they couldn't even say their policy protected them. basically, no adult had approved or signed for me... they were using a kids work to gain money and I never saw a red cent. I knew others who left the site with their poetry for that reason as well.

Anyway... I wrote this poem years ago... seems like forever ago. I was young... and naive in love. I was in love with my best friend... and my best friend was an oblivious ass. He was, of course, dating one of the less "sit on the bleachers" type girls... he looked everywhere but the place I was simply a fixture in. In the end, I wondered if he even noticed when I wasn't their anymore.


"What I hide behind these eyes"

"Oh if I could only show you,
What I hide behind these eyes,

You say your grand,
You take your stand,
You've done half the school,
You broke all the rules,
You say your not worried,
You've never hurried,
You never get caught,
You are not afraid to get shot.

Oh if I could let you see,
what resides inside of these,

I am a tree-hugger,
I first told you to bugger,
I keep people away,
I know no-one will stay,
I know death first hand,
I know you wouldn't still stand,
I see in your eyes the fire inside,
I don't want to see you in death to slide,

Oh if I could only show you,
What I hide behind these eyes,

You can't see past the size of your head,
I can't see past the thought of you dead,
You fail to see your hearts existence,
I fail to tell you my secret admittance,
You go home and have it all,
I go home and watch me fall,
You go home knowing you'll see the next day,
I go back knowing if I die I will see you again someday.

Oh if you could only see,
What resides inside of these,

Maybe then you would see the tears I cry,
As the nights go by,
Maybe you would know the hands I pray,
Will not touch me this day,
Maybe then you would see the tears that won't go,
As I live in a limbo to or fro,
Maybe you will know the shame I carry,
Used and abused this yellow canary,
Maybe then you would see the marks on my skin,
Not the ones I myself pin,
Maybe you would know the game that I play,
Pretending that life has no price to pay,
Maybe then you would see the inside of me,
The wish someone see just what I can be,
Maybe then you would know the way I must travel,
Caged and kept here as my mind so unraveled,
Maybe then you would see the glass in your hands,
Is my heart as so little of what yet still stands,

Oh if only I could show you,
What I hide behind these eyes."


I wrote that... knowing what is written in my previous posts... one may even be able to catch the references to what was happening and what exactly they mean to me.

*shakes head*

I moved on with my life... fell in love.... all that jazz... this poem is only a part of the past. I see the foolishness in it now and I can catch mistakes i didn't then in it too... but... this poem was written after 2 days having been denied medication. it helped "soften" the mind. the effects themselves do not automatically fade when it is no longer in your system and I was conscious of my inner struggles to not have my mind die... which I imagine is possible(it takes a bit off of them for everything to fall back in order but when I wrote this I was relatively sane and alright-just... the part that doesn't go back so quickly was the erm... "different me's"... that took awhile... a few months at least and that is only after I finally got free, basically I was aware of what was wrong-even then and nobody listened when I tried to tell them so I stopped trying to tell them). I was trying to ease the pain and stay alive so i could one day see what made this world so great to my parents... more so my father but... I knew it was wrong, the things happening to me. I just couldn't stop it.

"Now I can stop it... to a degree,
If left here to choose which it would be,
I would not choose me,
But my dear family."

And now we touch on why I don't write, read, or re write(I didn't type this one, it was on an old paper) poetry much anymore without reason. I will be rhyming for a couple of hours and I don't like the weird looks I get. I will have to sign out of work lest I rhyme them to death...*groans*... it is a quirk.

-Luna

PS: I had a female crush at one point too... I am bi not flat out lesbian. Just tossing that out their... I ignored my feelings completely on that one... she was so straight...

heartbreaking find-childhood journals

I was going through some old boxes I hadn't even thought of going through for years and found an old journal(I had lots of those). I can't write in cursive... years on medications and I stopped trying for so long, I must admit I have to re-learn.

I ran into some things... some written before my mother died, some after... much of this was used in school for assignments. My mother had been teaching me cursive... so I... some words were written by her and not myself.

Scattered in this book... I honestly thought it would have been destroyed. must not have been able to... mama's handwriting was why i wanted to learn it. to me... she wrote beautifully curved words that looped and... well... now I realize my mothers handwriting wasn't the best... but then it was the greatest to me.

Their are things written from before the mental health system... I have entries after.

It was not as if I wasn't making it obvious something was wrong.

The things I wrote... it makes sense to me now as to why they wanted to advance me. I was advanced.

After CPS came in and took us... I was responding in what I now know is a normal fashion for a child to respond to such things... they opened the door to my personal hell. when my mother told them I was autistic they didn't listen, when she told them I didn't need the crap they wanted me to take, they didn't listen. she took me off of the medications because she knew. For all the times my mother didn't notice when something was wrong... they had to be blind to not see what even she could see.

I have entries into a SCHOOL journal detailing past abuses, and when they didn't, asking for help, pleading... saying I needed "help to get away from the 'help'" I was getting... that I liked being the way I was. As time went on... my writing digressed. My ability to retain information and express became challenged... my grammar, instead of improving, goes back levels as does my spelling... everything. And I write asking for help, expressing that more than one "me" is inside.

My mother protected me from the system as she should never have had to... but when she was dead my grandmother was more than willing to use it as a weapon. When I wrote about the abuse... asked for help... it was discounted as "crazy" or a "side effect of the medication" or "vivid imagination"... "attention". I have scars on my body. It was not any of those things... and the ones who dared to look close enough to see(basically not blindly listen to my grandmother) and actually checked, were promptly removed from my life, and if that wasn't possible, I was removed from theirs. My abuse was real.

I was a child asking to be killed... despairing over lack of love, life, help... because I knew what was happening was wrong. I watched other kids fall to my fate, some because they were abused too, some because some "helpful" organization such as cps had insisted their parents have them "seek help" for their children. I had been responding as any normal HEALTHY child was supposed to... was expected to... and though my words were mature, they had held a child's voice to them... some part of me hadn't given up on papa's dream yet. I believed people could be amazing. The abuse never once took that from me. With or without abuse... the words I wrote were older sounding than they should have been but rung with the sweetness of a little girl naive enough to believe all that was said with every fiber of her being.

The heavier the medication... the darker my writing, not just in the words... at first, I had held out hope and had trusted it was for the best... they killed that naivety. No matter how many times I spoke up, no matter how many times I let them KNOW I needed help... they thought they knew better. their solution was more of the same, therefore making matters worse.

From what I can see, I had retained information very well before and was actually ahead of my age group as far as I can tell(and since an advancement and participation in the spelling B had been discussed prior to my mothers death...) yet after.... everything... I must admit it is painful to look at.

What and who could I have been if they had just left well enough alone?

I remember being in my own body... so numbed with medication I had to struggle just to write. I got in trouble for writing the way I did, but it was the best i could do the way I was... it effected my fine and gross motor skills. My ability to retain information... even my bodies ability to keep me at a healthy weight.

I lost my memory in total several times. The last when I was 17... the time before that I had destroyed every old journal I could find. I should tell you... reading these I understand why. the time before I was 14. the time before I was 10. I should tell you I know what caused it, and it was deliberately done by another. It was periodically done... I will not state the reasons I managed to figure out... to me they are not good enough reasons. it was horrible.

Despite my unnerving maturity at times and my trauma in the past,  I was a normal, healthy child with a bright outlook on life, a sweet disposition and a stubborn streak from absolute hell... but... they changed that. it took years. I can tell by reading. even when my mind was torn to different pieces and everything was gone from me... I still was a hopeful child who believed. By age 12 I had made an attempt on my own life... but wasn't as serious about it as the next time... to be blunt, even then I still had a shred of hope.

while on the medications I wrote about their being more than one me... about not being loved... about mean words being said... my expression was very basic while on the medications. It is one thing to remember the horror, another to see just how obvious it should have been.

My school journals are like... I will be blunt. Nobody should have ignored the change. I should have been left as I was.

Do you think now that I am grown I will be listened to?

I do not see anything not their, I do not hear anything not their. I wish harm on none... though a hostile thought rises when harm is brought on me and mine.

On medication I put up with abuse... off of it I was able to stop putting up with it... all on my own.

When I asked for help I didn't receive it, when I wanted them to leave me alone... they decided I needed help.

These writing are from a child... yet I have had to double check both my memories and the few dates uttered on these pages just to get over the horror of it. No child should be writing such things and be so left to deal with it alone. I have been saying since I was a child that I was not sick unless they gave me medications... but they didn't listen.

Now I face those who will not listen once again... even my religion is put under debate to these people... they truly don't listen. The cry for help I uttered then is so similar to the one I utter so often now.

My understanding is fine... but what do you do when you know nobody is listening?

I found these journals while doing a little inventory to organize better(those boxes were not packed well this I already knew-they were just thrown together and I was organizing them)... I tend to do that when I become comfortable enough with a place to get attached... it take me awhile to do that, years... this place... I will stick through and make sure it is as it needs to be. Someday maybe I will have enough money to buy this place.

The building is old and I am sure I would need to save for a long time... but... this is where me and my family belong.

acknowledging this feeling in my heart... I was rearranging those things to make it better... more... settled? I could truly imagine my children growing up here... even if I have to fix it's problems myself(though I will have to ask permission of course) but I have experience with such things. I didn't even realize learning them was a big deal... just like sewing. she taught me how to do basic tiling too... the grouting was a pain though... I ruined my favorite pair of jeans doing the "Arizona room" with her. My grandfather cut some of the tiles and we even made an area with designs. I helped lay down the tiles int he kitchen that were just sticky types... I even did landscaping type things... trimming the pom tree... gardening...  fixing leaks(though I would first call someone for that-I was never good at it as anything but an assistant.

speaking of which... they were supposed to have someone come out on Friday... to fix stuff. yet... here I am still sitting here with a leaky faucet and a leak under the sink... hmm... maybe if I wrap duct tape around the bottom of the sink? actually that type of thing i was good at. it is done with PBC pipping... I worked with that in high school too... sprinkler systems use it(FFA-agriculture program), and I was in nursery management... so sometimes we had to fix those. I was quite good with it... the piping isn't my problem... it is the finer points of the leaky faucet. I messed up once and never did it again... I messed up REALLY bad... actually so bad I wasn't allowed to touch it for any other purpose than to use it, no fixing was allowed... not to say I don't know how... just... I REALLY don't wanna screw up again.

besides... the faucet we can live with. I am honestly thinking something temporary like duct tape should work. I don't have the parts or the tools to fix this anyway... so... duct tape fixes everything? as of now it has a temp fix I didn't put on it, and makes me uneasy... not right to me. a diaper... but it does work. actually for that reason I am afraid to touch it... again, afraid I will mess up.

*sigh*

when it rains it pours... well anyway, I gotta go finish up in that endeavor for the night...

laters

-Luna

good news for today

My bills are paid and I have been working tonight.

I was thinking of what to get my son for his second birthday... I was thinking a step stool and the mittens I am working on would be good... if I can afford anything else I will look out for something. I try to place thought in my gifts... thought and heart. I wouldn't be me if I didn't over think gift giving a bit.

Anyway... as odd as it sounds... I can actually kinda remember parts of my own second birthday.

I got a step stool and a "potty" with these sandals I loved(I can even tell you they were magenta), and this spinny thing... and a step stool of my own along with some pull up's. My parents are dead and anyone else their or who knew hasn't been with me most of my life... I didn't hear about this, I lived it.

I know it is odd...  however having once heard from my sister a recount of a memory her father was not their for and would otherwise be impossible for her to know by her own memory... it seems to be hereditary. anyway, gotta go. concussions are nasty things. over taxing so soon after isn't good... I gotta go take some Tylenol and meditate... that should help keep the effects at bay.

I don't even use pain medication unless their is something like this.  I usually just meditate it into the back of my mind or deal with it. granted their are limitations on how much you can do that but.... hm... well laters. I gotta go get some work done on those mittens anyway. his birthday is on the eleventh and they won't finish themselves.

^^

-Luna

tonight

I have been up all night. I did some studying, finished my homework for now(and turned some stuff in), have been working on a vid I am animating, and am trying to figure out how the fricking fudgsickles I am supposed to convert a "flash" movie into something compatible with ANYTHING so I can upload and share it.

Oi... the animation itself is pretty armature I am sure, especially since this is my first flash vid(I was using "paint" for my old stuff), I am sure it will be much better than the stuff I have done... hopefully.

UG! In a couple hours I gotta go job searching again.

Several places last time flat out told me only FLUENT Spanish speakers were welcome. I gotta admit, while I can kinda get the gist... I am in no way fluent... yet. I am working on too much at once at this point and in all honesty... I try not to do my language studies on days like this... when I am about to drop from exhaustion at the beginning of the day.

Serves me right... I got caught up in my art.... again. I also do that with writing and pretty much anything I immerse myself in. This would be why if I am able to get a job(beyond the phone one, which I desperately need-ironically I am also sick... yes, I know I should be asleep but you know-present situation makes the nightmares worse... I even caught myself animating a part of a nightmare without thinking about it! I certainly have enough of them-especially nowadays). anyway, this would be one reason why when FINALLY find something else that perhaps may pay the bills(I don't mind a minimum wage jobs-I am just needing a job and will work hard-I am a hard worker), anyway, that's why I would have to have them not sneak up on me. if I am too scared to get immersed in my job, I won't DO as good a job as I can do. the fact of the matter is, I am not scared of my memories... I am scared of the effect on the work I do... I may also be a teensy bit skittish in general. You would be too. *sigh* Nobody should be touching you in a work place anyway, so their shouldn't be any problems. No touchy! -_-.............. I reserve the right to not have to live every waking moment in my past and all I need form anyone is to remember the basics. 1-no surprising me(though accidents are fine and forgivable, not generally easy to do unless I am very involved in what I am doing, then exceptions apply at times-still rare).... 2-Do not touch me. No hugs. Hand shakes are OK, but otherwise no. I don't know you, your not one of my kids, and to be honest... I have no desire to face that part of my problem as of yet. It happens every single frigging time! I am damn ashamed I can even say that. oh hell... I had one friend that didn't even notice I went rigid when she tried to touch me. Not the first time I have been raped... but the more stress(non work related, that isn't as stressful to me anyway... dif kind of stress I guess) and crap I must deal with... the longer I am going to put it in the back to deal with later(first dealing with priority issues), and then dealing with that later, because when it boils down to it... being raped is never easy to deal with. Least of all dealing with it having been someone you trusted very much and therefore allowed them near you at your weakest and most vulnerable. Your supposed to be able to trust your spouse... yet my trust seems it was misplaced. I stayed with him even though he was progressively getting worse and more violent in those actions(though the act itself is still violent), but... I didn't leave until I realized their was no use, no reason. this isn't life growing up as a kid... I wasn't powerless to leave. I also realized, their was no point staying for the kids... I decided finally to go through with leaving after I had to get between my son and my husbands hand... you do the math. Nobody touches my kids. I am not talking touch the same way I previously stated for myself. I am talking about my son who was a year and a half at the time, and was about to be smacked very hard by a full grown man. This hit, knocked me, a full grown woman, more than a little bit away from where I was, and by no means was I still standing afterwards.

He apologized after, but lets just say I heard it all before.

I am not currently afforded the mental "spare" energy, if you will, to deal with it the way I truly need to. I am dealing with too much already... things will have to change and get better before I can let myself the time and energy to do so. My life is too much in the way of "hell" as of current to afford myself dealing with a past hell.

It is however... being raped by someone you trusted enough to do a hand-fasting that was supposed to last longer than life and have you meeting in the next(any pagans who read should understand), is a new experience for me. I have been assaulted by people I should have trusted or people who had already lost trust(I don't go out and get raped every day but I grew UP with this... I didn't grow up in the best of ways, the last person to do so had already lost my trust... so I am thankful it didn't happen before then-it hits harder when you trust them). anyway... point is... on top of this I am sick(not too sick to work and I won't be giving anything to anyone), in pain, and to be honest... I may be forced to stay home today because while I have no job outside as of current... it may be better to take care of this fever(if I really had to I would work with a mask on, but as it stands... well you probably get the idea-my health isn't good enough to go for what could be a waist of time, such as standing in line for a job app and listening to them talking a different story to someone else but to you they have no job or simply "just hired someone- etc... i am not stupid, my hearing is quite good as is my memory... which is the problem with my memory, it is too good-I don't want to only have so many memories of such bad deeds people do-but neither will I live in fantasy land-for me to see good in people, they must show me-I used to see it without needing to be shown... but too many times was I hurt by those who were supposed to protect or keep me safe, or be trusted... or who were just some stranger I never knew-fact is, I have seen too much of the bad to think of humanity as purely good... in fact-I am more surprised when someone is nice than when someone betrays or hurts me- hence why the things that I need time to deal with that govern my ability to handle human touch and whatnot-my kids are an acception- are not priority-getting in a better situation so I can handle it and get my life back together with my family-comes first, otherwise I will end up destroying myself or just making it worse-I know myself all too well, you can only handle so much at once- good thing I can file it away).

Anyway, I gotta go. I am gonna go lay down and hope I get up when my alarm goes off in 20 minutes because in all honesty... if i don't, the power will be off by 6:00 am... I am able to get it back between curtain hours but... my situation is just that bad.

funniest thing. all these people who "know" me swear my kids are my world, that I help people where I can, and that I am otherwise a very good person... yet where are those people when I need them? I have helped each and every one of them when they were in their own time of need... so where are they now?


I am a wiccan, I am not allowed to hurt anyone... and some may see this blatant display of negative emotions as a flux in practice(I don't know, the only coven I ever participated in was loose-not official in most ense, and to be honest... this wasn't "covered" besides, I am a solitaire... now also because of something else too. not something I did mind you, so don't go drawing conclusions. I left.

anyway... yeah, laters.

I don't have very long and I am pretty sure my health would catch up with me either way at this point... it doesn't help that I have yet another event in a few days... oh joy(sarcasm). I hate how evil people can be. I have already been informed how this will go... because the truth doesn't matter to someone it should matter to, that was the general gist I was given. the truth won't matter because the title and standing of the other matter more so "yay"... ug... gotta go now... seriously...

maybe I will figure out the coding thing tonight and be able to post the vid...

-Luna

doctors who can't agree, food sensetivity therapy-a peek inside my heart

 ‎10 out of 10 psychiatrists over the years agree on little(not really 10 of them... but not much few-I just thought that one was funny). they agree I am not a harm to myself or 

others, they agree I was abused, they agree I am over-weight(-_- because they need to point 

that out "so badly"), that I have no dillusions, that I have been off of medications for a length of 

time(ironically they can't agree on how long-they would if they opened their ears a bit), that I 

have 

been functioning for awhile, and that I have ptsd(not all of them agree on the rest ironically-

again- 

ears please open!), and finally... I talk lots. Wait rewind... they need to say that? OK... I suppose 

it 

might not shock them to know I talk in my sleep too. nothing short of physical issues could shut 

me up. after all... I am quite "verbose". OMG! they needed to say it? this was NEWS?! I talk 

when I get nervous... I don't like those offices. they make me highly uneasy and nervous, so they 

are not seeing me normal. no surprise they also note I talk quickly... OK. sorry, I just find it funny 

that, out of 2 years of records... that is about all they agree on.

several agree that I am focused on my kids(others don't reference it), that I am "fine" with my appearance(why do they need to rate that?),  oh yes, and a couple have me as a bit hard to figure out. the one that kinda ticks me off is when they can't agree on something as simple as married or not("boyfriend and 2 kids"???????? we were married long before that eval and the one before it says clearly "husband", we got married when I was 7 months along with our youngest! *snorts* never said I was a saint so those who judge me on that please consider yourselves only reflecting your own selves in a negative light).. or they misquote(it may seem stupid but...) or instead of saying "meds or no", they blame it one me as the reason not given(they can't agree wreather or not I am willing... that is annoying, I don't even wanna be in the system, I am happy the way I am inside, trauma's of the past and all-I have noticed and fixed my issues with abuse-I have no desire to repeat the past again-so no abuse is acceptable because it escalates-wanna ask me what abuse is as well? I can tell you that too-let me clear this up, if I needed them I would take them, the problem is I don't- I don't even get mood swings or anything they use meds for and medications have been detriment in the past- as it stands, let me state this "I would rather re live every rape and every terrible deed I have ever seen/been through and then have my internal organs spooned out with my conscious and no medication given, then go through the hell medications put me through"-yet for my children I will face this hell, want a list of the things they did to me? it is inhuman to force this on anyone telling them they have a choice but still taking that choice from them with your own words),  the most annoying part on the last one is when they use the ultimate cop out. "need more time with pt to decide", bullshit. that last one had an hour and a half. if you can't decide after an hour and a half... your looking for problems that don't exist or simply "passing the buck". some of them are incompetents who say they refuse to say without looking at my records. basically, they won't decide for themselves. recently they also decided(with no medical proof-in fact my medical records say otherwise) that I am diabetic. with all due respect... having a family history of it, doesn't make me have it. If I wasn't trapped in my current sitchuations(and I find it kinda funny years of records now "don't exist" even though I can prove I went their to the site most of these come from-since long before I was 18), I would be using that "voluntary" status to get the "hell outta dodge" if you will. I have bad experiences, OK, so I have had counseling... and some people even judge me by my music... oh shove it. that is what I say to them. if I judged half of the people who I meet, by their music... *refuses to continue that line of though*. In day to day life I am sick and tired of dealing with the ill informed who just hear a diagnosis and go all weird on me. I will clear this up, my diagnosis means I was traumatized. I look at life much differently than others. It can end at any moment... so live with as few regrets as possible. when I get up in the morning I think "what would I regret if I didn't do it today?"

To be perfectly honest, I knew it was abuse. I knew my husband was doing wrong. I stayed for my children. when it escalated, I saw something I never realized before. you see, I was raised to put up with abuse. I lived as the target. without my own self awareness excersizes... I could have ended up the beaten girl for the rest of my life... because I was brought up to accept it. I don't do such anymore because my strength is my children. whatever effects me, effects them. even if they never know about it, they will. it will progress to reach them too. The reality of that hit me when I got between my husband and my son. It was the first time and the last.

I was brought up in an environment where my own suffering was the way to prevent others from suffering in my stead. As an adult I have a power that I didn't have as a child. A child is stuck, they can't leave. An adult can... even if they don't think they can. I left for my kids, and in my current situation (not before mind you) I have faced moments of weakness... where I doubted myself. yet I have somehow managed... I wouldn't have been able to without those who offer a support from the ways they can. No monetary support mind you... but... I must confess... while it isn't always "enough"... it keeps me holding on even when everything seems I am just waiting for the next thing to go wrong... "what next"?

My next entry is half done... but I write with my heart.

This needed to be said.

and because I value honesty....

Here is what I have about food sensitivity therapy... then I gotta go do homework.

it is kinda weird but information on it isn't so common but for the aspects of it. I originally got it from a book called "the natural physician's healing therapies-proven remedies that medical doctors don't know about"(by Mark Stengler, N.D. -the natural healing physician TM forward by James F Balch, M.D.) on page 193.

The writer also references early on that "food sensitivity" and food allergies are often misconstrued in the reference of what they refer to. They reference two things that are much different.

This web site is relatively good in it's information on it... though the book is better, even kinda tells you HOW to do it on your own. It really doesn't take much in the way of anything but self awareness. this site seems more wanting you to go get tested with some weirdo and basically pay them money. no offense but I prefer to just pay attention to my own body.

http://foodtherapyonline.com/services/leap-mrt-food-sensitivity-testing/

another kind disappointing site...

http://foodtherapyonline.com/


let me bluntly explain in a very simple manner what "food sensitivity" is.

It is simply thus, everything you eat or drink effects your body and gains some form of reaction from you. many of us have something we have built up a tolerance for over the years but our bodies would reject without this built up tolerance and therefore it takes more to process it(an allergy I have is lactose-I also have a straight allergy to milk... so even though I cheat on cheese and milk products- I can't on milk itself-anyway to the point...). I can eat cheese and whatnot in moderation. now this one is one that wasn't suppressed with tolerance being built up. I wasn't able to eat foliage as a kid. for food sensitivity therapy, you cut off everything you know is a tolerance built up and start form their, pay attention to how things effect you(for instance pocky makes me so hyper it is avoided... accept maybe once or twice a year tops). now for me, completely cutting out dairy is kinda not an option. I can't have SOY milk(haven't tried much else-it is gross anyway) either!

anyway, with food sensitivity therapy, you pay very close attention to everything that you eat and if you need to ask others to help you see it, then ask. for instance, carrots(raw) effect my energy level in a very weird way... but cooked is different and actually makes me sleepy. coke a cola gives me migraines and makes me kinda "moody" but Pepsi doesn't give me a head ache... but it mellows me out a bit(naturally energetic). with food sensitivity therapy, everything you consume matters. I can even tell you, when I eat more meat(something I don't like to eat but it is pretty much the only thing I didn't have to build a tolerance to-I tried to go vegetarian once and about killed myself-no matter how much i combined foods to make "whole" proteins my body refused to be placated, I have to eat meat or I get deficient and can't produce the correct things for it to work-yeah... I tried everything on that level-good thing I don't mind chicken as much... or fish, and my kids love that stuff too! we eat lots of veggie's-fruits not as much, they get bad diaper rashes). anyway, meat means weight gain for me, while bread and starches go straight through me. those give me more short term energy instead of the building blocks the meat does. I lose weight eating more bread. for this reason, I use it for this too... but not like others would. it isn't a diet... I just slip a bit more in here and there while eating small portions, excersizing regularly, and otherwise keeping up good nutrition.

the point being... these are examples. every person is vastly different. I suspect this is why their is so little information. I had only found those web sites so far. then again, I have been too busy to look overly much.

http://www.amazon.com/Natural-Physicians-Healing-Therapies-REMEDIES/dp/0887234348/ref=pd_vtp_b_3/175-4285353-9803911 just to prove the book referenced exists, and you can even take a look at the description and whatnot. the one who wrote it is quite praised. apparently besides practicing, he also teaches at yale university... wow.

anyway, my point is, what he writes makes it very easy to use all on your own.

most sites seem to be trying to cash in... to be honest, my mom used to teach me remedies and about a month before she died we were coming up with "ideas" for names for a apothecary... even then I preferred to call it a "natural remedies store". ................ the name we chose... you know, mama was still working out the "how" but we had designed much of it together. it may seem a shocker but I still remember it and how it was supposed to be... along with all of the wild ideas we had that were thrown out but also not... mom was a good artist too. she was going to paint them instead... all over the walls. she was much better than me... especially drawing her horses. I love wolves... but my mama loved horses more than anything. kinda makes me partial to them. she used to say "because they seem to be so free they are flying"... that was the same reason when I was very little I wanted to be a ballet dancer.  I will never be such now. my tendons are not made for such and my structure is wrong for it... but I still dance anyway. never stopped me... just not ballet.

It is funny...  when I was little, I had many dreams and I still have most of them. they just kinda evolved with my age. in high school I was ashamed to tell them I didn't have some huge dream to be the first female president or anything... I just wanted to get married and have kids, and be a mom. that was my dream... by big dream in life was to be a stay at home mom. now that won't be possible, but... my dream evolved the first time I held my boys. I was hesitant to go for that old dream afraid it wasn't mine... but it is. I loved the moon ever since I before I could walk. like my oldest starred at this tree for no apparent reason(we have videos of it too-ironically he has a birth mark that resembles a leaf on one of his arms), well mine was the moon. their was no logical reason for it... so I also prefer silver to gold. my mother loved the sun and preferred gold, we were as different as night and day... and my brother wanted the stars too so... we had still been between "Sun and Moon Apothecary" and "Sun, Moon, and Stars Apothecary"

Personally, I like the second one. I kinda chose the first one just cuz mama liked it... though I secretly agreed with my brother. the other one sounded much better(my love of the night-time had "absolutely nothing" to do with it!... actually saying that would be a lie)

I still have this dream. Mama was very well versed in remedies as am I... and someday I will have this place with all the things necessary to achieve such. I dance regardless of what others think or say... all in the privacy of my own dwelling... and singing was never int hat because it is like breathing for me... as a part of me as the flesh on my skin. singing is... my souls air... for lack of better words, basically whatever I do, I sing.

I am wishing to become a forensic artist... though I admit... it is the melancholy and the obligations I feel inside that chose this path... the wish to make others happy. if I chose what makes me happy... I would have chosen animation as part of my road in life. Both things make me happy... in a way. One brings peace to my soul with the guilt of having not been able to do anything to help those I saw die or hurt... an inner peace from paying attention to  that wish... like somehow I might be helping someone else avoid such hurt. To this day, everything I was unable to do in the past... weighs on my heart. I must remember them as they died, because that was the very last time i saw them... some even begged. I want to help stop that... but I can't be a police officer... because I can't bare to hold a gun. a gun killed my papa. My papa was a talented martial artist, an honorable man who never said a harmful word that I ever knew... he carried me on his shoulders and let me just be a kid... I was his precious little girl. If it had been anything else... those people were civilians. My papa was a navy seal! He could have taken them easily and walked away... but when he told me to run I had never heard him speak like that before. I was 3. I was confused. "papa what is happening?" he told me to run... I didn't, I didn't understand. my papa was warm and kind and soft of hand... everything about him was something I had never seen before and the things those people said were so confusing. he even tried "go get your mother!" nothing worked. I still hold the scars from that day. I didn't just not run, I tried to help and got snatched up. I was nearly stabbed through my heart but instead I got slashed, papa stopped them. my only crime in their eyes was being with him as a possible witness... and his daughter. My papa taught me more about how people should be that day... about strength. they snatched me up and made him watch. a gun was to my little head. when he was asked why he wouldn't look away... he told them he knew what looking away would do... he knew... I will forever wonder how he knew. He told them they were the filthy ones and it wasn't my fault, but if he looked away, it would show shame in me. My small body hurt, I felt like everything was wrong... but papa gave me strength. I was 3 years old! I didn't even really know what strength WAS! I bit the man when I got the chance and got thrown. they gave him one last choice as he once again told me to run. this time I couldn't run because my body wouldn't move. I was still confused and now I was scared. I was 3... the most I really understood was that the people were bad and caused pain... I didn't want papa to stand alone. My papa never made me stand alone. even at 3 years old... that was something I knew well how it felt. my mother didn't know what happened when she wasn't home and even when she was... my strength was accepted as strength instead of what it was... a little girl afraid to cry. Papa... just would wipe my eyes and hold me... he got down on my level... he was the strength in my little world, when he was their I still wanted to be like him... wanted to be strong like him... but I treasured the weakness I was allowed when papa was their. I was such a daddy's girl. That day... their would be no more piggy back rides, no more shoulder ups... no more papa their to catch me while i was climbing trees... no more papa teaching me how to fight like him(though I now realize that wasn't such a great thing to be teaching me... I wasn't even really walking well when he started that)... my love of martial arts is the love of a daughter for her father. That is something I love because it is a beloved thing I shared with my papa.

right or wrong to teach me so early(my own children won't be learning so early-too much responsibility)... that is why I want to learn more... I have been told I display a combination of styles. I have kept up practice fro a long time. just as then... ironic how it couldn't stop me from being raped... and because I lacked the will to hurt anyone... the abuse given me, was... my fault. I very well could have turned around and beaten up my grandmother or taken things into my own hands. with my husband my body had become weak. I actually did try to fight him off of me... 2 pregnancies in a row of not being able to bodily keep up with all the things I do... I blame myself.

This I say now. Next time, the person isn't getting close enough to trap me like that. next time my knee goes up and I will keep them off... but to be honest I hope it never happens again.

The moment my father died, I was standing behind him. Had I moved... I have no doubt that bullet would have hit me. He had ample warning to move.. but didn't', because I was behind him.

My father... the strongest man in the world(I thought so)... was dead. His skin was so cold... his eyes weren't the same... I watched them glass over with death... I cried and screamed... I almost died. they hadn't left yet and I don't even know how I got to be beside him... I guess I ran, I heard his last words... I tried to wake him up. to this day... I dont' even think I screamed that loud after 52 straight hours of painful labor(ended in an emergency c section) with no drugs... my papa.. seeing him die was... their is no explanation.

for me death had been explained as a forever sleep. you don't wake up and people cry sad.

I realized he wasn't just sleeping... even as my mind didn't understand... the pain in my heart... that part of me knew, papa wasn't going to come back and would never wake up.

*shakes head*

you wanna know why he died? the last ultimatum they gave him was about religion. My father wasn't christian. they were. My father was shot and killed over religion. their is much more to this day that I have not said here... one day i will write it but... my fathers stories were the best, as were mama's(but he loved telling them more... though mama was good at it... nothing beat the fire in his eyes as he told a story) In honor of that... when i finally tell everything... it won't be all real. I will add things like the stories he used to tell me.

My dreams are many.

the day my father died is still very clear in my mind. while the pain has faded and I have let go of much... this is a big reason I wish to help catch criminals and find lost children... my father also used to speak of his fondness for making sure I was safe... I was his little firefly. he had many nicknames for me... I didn't like all of them but... he was my papa. All those years... I watched others dance with their dads knowing but unable to say a word, especially after mama died. my grandmother always swore he had run off, a deadbeat. my honorable father who was never anything but gentle with me... I had to live a lie with the pain of his death. he was a bright soul... my mother reminded me of the sun and my father of the moon. she was bright and shining, always so much a lighting up a room. type.. his light was softer to me... quieter. although to others that may seem odd. the moon is traditionally seen as more the woman and the sun more a man... but my parents were much different... I too think of a woman when i see the moon... but I also remember a memory of my father sitting with me under our favorite tree on that big rock... telling me a story with that shining look in his eyes and a soft look on his face... the day my father died was the first time I saw anything else on his face.

in retrospect... the day my father died... I didn't just learn about death. I often look back on it and lean many lessons. my father was like that just for me and mama... like the moon shines from the sun's light, he was like that just for mama... and then me. I must confess... I dealt with and accepted my mothers death long ago. My fathers death... I have never found a reason in any analyzing in this life. My mother... I could nationalize that her constant choices would have gotten my brother killed and she suffered so much in life that it was her mercy form the hell she was born into... and learned to ignore, thus becoming a part of mine. My father... their was no such logic to grasp and still isn't. the lessons I learned from it... I can't help but feel they were not worth the price.

My mother could have avoided her own death... my father could not have.

although it happened long before any other death witnessed, including my mother... I must confess... I have never found such peace with his death, but... when I look into my children's eyes... I begin to understand and let go little by little.

My father would want me to follow my dreams and be happy. "Do what makes you happy. Tell your mother I love you." why else would those have been his last words? I never understood those words... the weight of meaning... not until I had children of my own.

their happiness is my happiness. when they cry, I must stop myself from joining them... their pain is mine... my greatest wish is for them to be healthy and happy and grow to be honorable young men... but to stay innocent kids while they can... just being kids, the concept is too much for languages either written or spoken.

but I understand now. I was a kid... in my world i wasn't happy with him gone... but something happened even after. I know if given the choice I would choose to stay here with them... even with mama, papa, and my very own twin sister waiting for me on the other side... even if papa begged me to stay with them... no matter how much I wanted to stay... my heart is anchored with my children here. to leave them, knowing the pain I went through over my own parents... to know the incompleteness and the sorrow from watching other kids be with their parents while your family is so gone... I will stay for them... for their happiness.... because though they are young yet... my heart needs to know they are safe, needs to see them be such... I need to live. it is tough to explain in words... but I suppose such understanding... isn't meant to be such.

I spent a lifetime figuring out what those words meant without even truly realizing I was wondering.

Now... I live the rest of my life living by those words... because now I understand. their happiness is mine, my happiness is being their mother and following my own dreams while making sure they have whatever they need to follow their own dreams... despite the past, my dreams... everything that makes me, me.


funny how much your parents say... that you don't understand till so much later in life. so much that still is remembered. though our times were short... I will treasure every moment.

I will get that degree, I will help catch those criminals(though I can only use my art), I will get formal martial arts training in a dojo(not that he wasn't good but I wasn't exactly told what I was learning-I was too young- time to start again), I will excel in all that I do... regardless of obstacle, I will one day get that apothecary and name it for that dream shared among the warmth of family, and you know... I will be the best damn mom I can be while doing it. I am going to have to get a job though... last time I was checking daily and cracked my head open... *shakes head* figures. I could barely even walk straight... I was afraid I would end up in the street... regardless of obstacle... I will because I must. when mama was having trouble getting the stuff for our place... "failure is not an option, only a fear"... lately I have been saying that a lot... I believe it too. when facing your dreams... something you truly wish for... the ultimate unavoidable truth is success because when it is your dreams... you will keep going no matter what.

I know I wrote much more than I meant to... I write from my heart and kinda... almost forgot I was writing at all, I was just remembering and letting it flow. this is how I write... this post is essentially... a peek inside my heart.

these are my hopes, my dreams, things I know, things I dont... but all of it is purely me.

I am happy being me... content with myself... at peace with my own soul... I must confess. It was my grandmother who wanted me changed and wanted me to have problems beyond myself. regardless of my once wish to make her happy... I have grown to understand the words once spoken by those who did their best to show with actions the meaning... but only once I had my own little ones did I truly understand.

I am who I am. the past is what has happened in the past. the present is a gift no matter how much it isn't always what you wanted to get. the future is where everything you haven't done or gotten yet... where your dreams... where everything can shine. the future is a light to embrace with both arms... my future is my children. My dreams... my dreams are how I will show them dreams can come true, how they can someday make their own dreams come true... this is...what I believe.

blessings to those in all walks and all places in the cycle of life- may you find your own way in life-whoever may read this and even those who don't. ^-^

-Luna