I can make me hurt (Trigger Warning!)

Hurt Nine Inch Nails (live)

I can’t stop listening to this song. It makes me feel some kind of way that I can not ignore.

TRIGGER!! I used to have a problem with needles when I was in Jr. High and High School. We didn’t call it cutting back then, I don’t even know if there was a word for what I was doing to myself. I hate to admit that I used to hurt myself, I know it is sadly not uncommon. I have learned it is not uncommon around girls. I am not a unique snowflake (ha ha, Fightclub reference…).

Sorry, I got distracted… Needles. I used needles because I could explain why I needed one. Hey, I need a needle I have to hem my pants or fix this pocket or, whatever. I had a flashback the other day to being somewhere in my teens and keeping a safety pin pinned to my jeans at all times. I never talked about it, I don’t even think I wrote about it in my kid diary. It was like I knew what I was doing wasn’t “normal”. I would use the needle to rip up my skin or even scratch lines, shapes, initials, whatever. I check myself out every once in a while after a shower and count the scars.

Listening to this song… the lyrics “the needle tears the hole” have me so stuck. I feel like I got hit in the stomach.

Don’t worry, I am not in danger. I am just feeling shit. I work so fucking hard to keep my shit tucked in and the wall is crumbling, kids… I am not sure how I feel about this. I am remembering things that I had kept blocked, things I didn’t even realize were blocked.

I’m not sure what to do with emotion, no matter what it is it always feels weird. I cry at the drop of a hat (my ex used to say when she was on the rag she cried during those carpet cleaning commercials where someone spilled red wine on the white carpet, I’m in the same boat), I am prone to strong bursts of anger, I feel sad and reflexive. Like I just want to cut open my chest in front of the mirror and examine all the gooey stuff in there. Metaphorically, of course. In real life, blood and guts are icky.

I don’t know what it is that made me stop playing with needles. I know that one ex pissed me off to the point that I tried to jump back into the bad habit about 6 years ago (an answer to the why is there a triangle shaped scar on my hand), but long before that I had out grown it. I am lucky that I outgrew that habit, I know some people don’t make it that far. Some people have way more and worse scars than I do.

This song doesn’t so much make me want to, just makes me remember what drew me to it. I really hate feeling empty, I hate that I can’t process my emotions “correctly”. I hate that I can’t smile for real anymore. Dude said a few days or weeks ago that he can’t remember the last time I laughed without it being sarcastic or fake. That’s doing pretty bad, man. I didn’t have words and I still don’t. I just can’t get happy. Most of the time I feel lost and alone.

The best way I could explain to him. I don’t want to hurt myself, I promise I don’t. I just don’t have the motivation to live. I wouldn’t play in traffic, I wouldn’t ever tempt death. But there are days where I could flirt with him a little bit.

Hurt reminds me of those times, thoughts. I never listened to music then the way I do now, I never held on to lyrics like they were written for me. She taught me that. She taught me to take music and use it as my voice when I could not speak. I don’t think she knew it then, but I think she taught me how to heal myself.

As always ❤



It’s Time


This could have been written by me not the end part where she actually goes, but the realization it’s time. The moment you begin questioning, while looking really hard for reasons to stay. I get it, I hear it loud and clear. It’s time. ❤

What to Write?

Ever just have this nagging sense that not only do you “have” to do something, but you kinda, sorta, really Want to do to as well? That is how I feel about this blog today. The last few days I feel like I have had ideas coming out my ears, but then I sit here ready to let them pour out and they stay in my head, unwilling to move.

I started this blog as a way to express the thoughts and feeling that I cannot fully get out in my “real” world. I treat it like a virtual diary, I write expecting that no one is reading my words. I think it is that thought that helps me to write about people and things I would never allow myself to normally. It is with this thought in mind that I can allow myself to be as honest as possible without fearing vulnerability. I keep saying that I don’t want to only write when I am feeling depressed, I want to write when I am happy, or even sick. I want to feel this desire to hear my keys tapping when I don’t want to speak. I used to write poetry, but I have been blocked so long I’m not sure the gift will ever come back. Hmmm… Maybe I just need to visit my muse live and in person?

I have been given much food for thought lately, my brain seems to never shut off. This is not a bad thing… Remember how I said I wanted a sign? Something to point out this spot on my map and say “Here!” I’m not sure I need that so much anymore. I mean, I do have some plans and ideas, but maybe a sense of openness with where exactly I am headed isn’t such a bad thing? Maybe the prize is in the discovery? I am thinking this journey might be as interesting as the end point…

Your Crowley Thoth Tarot Card for May 12th is The Tower

This is a bit inspirational for me… ’bout to graduate and a whole mess of change is heading my way. I don’t know that I thrive in change or chaos, I think I am like a phoenix and I rise from the burning ashes after I have set off the bombs. I am cognizant of the change, aware that it could be good and bad at the same time. I am currently in dire need of change. This gilded cage has finally become too small and this birdie has to get the fuck out and stretch these damn wings. This card reminds me that with change and chaos and destruction; a sort of rebirth can happen. In my case, a rebirth would be very good. It is high time this girl pulls up the drawers and gets it done!

#quickinspirational #changeisgood

if I push you away..

This is beautiful

Read My Thoughts


When I push you away,
It doesn’t mean I don’t want you to stay.
And if I ever want you out,
It doesn’t mean that I don’t want you around.

Sometimes I answer your questions impolitely.
And it always seems I talk to you only half-heartedly.
I may sound as if I’m always mad at you,
But believe me, it’s actually never true.

If I push you away, it doesn’t mean I want you to go
If I ask you to leave, at the same time I’m hoping you’d say “No”
My heart is full of fear so I keep pushing people away
Because I don’t think that someone would really like to stay.

I used to be attached to people I care,
There were those who made me believe they’d always be there.
Until one day, everything suddenly stopped between them and me
Even if I know I…

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The Greatest Intentions

All weekend I had the greatest of intentions to sit down and post something new. When I reactivated this blog I decided I would write as often as possible, but not only when I was sad. Sometimes we have the greatest of intent to do one thing, and it just doesn’t happen. This is like, the 4th time I have sat down in front of the lappie and tried to type something out that didn’t sound canned, we shall see how far this sucker makes it before I trash it or post it.

I had the greatest intention all weekend to sit down and tell you guys about my mother. I tried to write that post twice and for one reason or another nothing I could say was quite right. If I tried to give you the reader’s digest version it will still make me cringe a little bit. Maybe that subject is better saved for another day that isn’t Mother’s day. I wanted to talk about my step kids and how they finally made me feel like a mom, mixed in with a little bit about me and why I have to be satisfied with just having fuzzy and step kids. Maybe a little bit  about my honey’s mom, ex mom-in-law, and some really special mom friends including my sister, but damnit I just couldn’t do it. Nothing came out quite right, nothing quite gave justification to my feelings about any of them.

I had the greatest intention to study like a mad woman all weekend. I had visions of pens, pencils, paper and my calculator; my math and spanish books spread out next to each other in-order to maximize studying potential. I think I studied in increments, little sections of time in between doing other more exciting things.

I have been told this little saying for as long as I can remember: the road to hell is paved in good intentions. I am not so sure I believe that anymore. I think sometimes intentions are okay. You have a plan, you know there are things you both need and want to do. I think problems only start to surface if you get stuck at that intent and never go any further. Eventually, I will call that number to try to get an appointment with a therapist, eventually I will talk to you guys about my mom, eventually I will get through the important stuff. Some stuff is more important than others, prioritizing is a must. Shit will get done.