Acceptance and Blessings

So it has been a while. Things have definitely been busy and crazy, but despite the hardships, I feel blessed.

I’ve met the most amazing and caring person. Not to mention incredibly sexy. (He says no, but I disagree. Though when he says the same to me, I say no as well.)  He’s helped me by just being who he is. He knows who he is and is comfortable with who he has become. He accepts me for who I am, this includes my past. He embraces it, stating it has created me into who I am now, and that is who he loves.

Knowing this, and feeling this love and acceptance, I’ve been able to heal. It’s more of a total healing. I’ve been able to accept myself.  I know, who would have thought this would happen. I never did, but it’s amazing. I really am healing. I am finding my true self, and accepting who I am. When I say accepting, I mean it not in a “Oh that’s just who I am type of way, and it won’t change”, no not that, I’m realizing who I am, what makes me, and embracing it.

That’s right. Embracing who I am and what makes me who I am.

I’m also learning to trust. After everything I have gone through, I’m learning trust, something I thought was gone and would never come back. I won’t lie and say it is easy, because it’s not. Not a chance in the world of that being easy. It’s a constant battle. It’s so engrained into me to be negative and to feel that nothing will work out, but I’m learning to trust. My boyfriend is the best thing to happen to me and helping me with trust. I’m experiencing reasons to trust, and then having these feelings reinforced. I’m not going to say I have this down, and I know what I’m doing. I need reminders. I need help.  But here’s the point, I’m learning and building. I have a reason to trust. Everyone else in my life has shown me that trust is something that cannot be had, now, I know differently.

Kind of nice isn’t it?

Oh… I’ve changed a bit.  There are some pink chunks to my hair, and I now have my symbol on my wrists. My sparrows are with  me where I can see them always. My strength. They’re there whenever I need a reminder. I’m here, and I’m standing stronger. Little by little.


A little pink...

A little pink…

My strength, my reminders, my symbols.

My strength, my reminders, my symbols.

Week in Music (3/31-4/14)

Well I missed a week due to feeling, well horrid, depressed, bitter, and all that lovely stuff, and unfortunately, it really did not get better this week, but I shall give you TWO weeks of music. Not the happiest, but it’s me!

1. So the hair was chopped off, a message to JERK, which apparently he did not receive.  He told me it will grow back. H to the E, to the double L no!

2. In Case he doesn’t get it…

3. Every time I started feeling horrible and needed a pick me, you were there…


5.  I made a step forward in therapy these past 2 weeks. I was told I’m improving and making progressive steps. I’m recovering.

6. Nuff Said

7.  Just seems to fit into the week.

8. I’ve made up my mind this week about something….


10. Thank You.


My ups and downs with depression

So I’ve decided to have some guest bloggers lately. From having my stories of Mummy and Klaus on Twindaddy‘s blog, I thought it was most fitting that he be my first guest blogger.  He’s not the only one. AliceAtWonderland will be joining us too! Did you want to share anything? Just send me an email  (, and let me know.


Hello. My name is Twindaddy.  Some of you may already know me.  Some of you may not.  Some of you may wish you did.  Most of you will not.


This is me. I used to be meaner, but now I’m medicated.

Anyhow, Alice threatened to have the white rabbit stalk me  asked me to guest post here, but didn’t really give me much to work with in the way of a topic, so I decided to talk about depression since that’s the theme of her blog.  Or it originally was, at least.  I thought maybe it might help her in some way to share my story with her.  At least, that is my hope.  Some of this she already knows, some of it she may not.

Here goes… Continue reading

Alles, Alles auch so ein frei! (or Ollie Ollie oxen free)

I’m trying something to do. I’m trying my hand at being the old me. The me I was before. The one I’m missing. That person. Can I be her? Do I still have it in me? Maybe not, but I can try, at least for a day. Pretend nothing happened (yes, I know you shouldn’t but I don’t have it in me to remember today. I’m tired, I don’t feel great and my voice is nonexistent at the moment, so just go with it.)

So how am I trying to get back to being the old me? I’m at least dressing the part. Ok, the part that I miss. I don’t feel great so my usual clothes are my over-sized sweatpants (hello, they’re the most comfortable things in the world, besides the super fuzzy soft robe I have) and I found my CLASH t shirt. It’s my favorite. It was given by an ex that I’ve come to terms with and still think fondly of. It’s the best t-shirt though. It’s in Japanese. So it’s not a typical Clash shirt. Says The Clash, has a skull and cross bones on it, and then says something in Japanese, which I assume is probably the tour there at some point, but doesn’t bother me. It’s my most well worn shirt, has the faded black wanna be grey look, the fuzzies of being worn and washed often, but that soft feel. I don’t know why, but I feel powerful in that shirt. It’s my ME shirt. Something about it screams “This is who I am, deal with it.”

Not mine, but I found a pic through google. Mine is much more worn.

Not mine, but I found a pic through Google. Mine is much more worn.


I want that person back. Come out, come out, where ever you are.

I’m hoping that with the new therapy/counseling, that I will be able to become me again. Yes, I am me now, but I mean the other me. The me that was a bit more carefree, slightly manic and wacky, could give a flying frak if people said something to bring her down, tune out the world and be so focused and lost in projects that sleeping became a bit forgotten. She was a person that laughed a lot more, took more joy, had a happier outlook on life. Didn’t depend on her sidekick as to how she would be. Just let the sidekick tag along with threats of pain if they became too loud. That’s who I’m looking for.

Maybe the shirt will rub off on me and she will make an appearance for a little bit at least.

Really, what is depression?

There’s a song that talks about how there is only a place where I can go and I would like to share it with you. I believe I’ve mentioned it before. But today, I was listening to it, and another meaning came to me.

There have been a few people showing how they’re blogging for mental illness for 2013.  I think that it is awesome. The way people experience mental illnesses is as vast as ocean waves. Not one goes to the same place as the one before. Each reacts differently to the experiences that they are put through.


That’s how it is for me. Not one experience is like the last. Oh there are similarities, but no, they’re not the same. There are times where I’m just, how did you put it, oh yes, blue, depressed, down. Other times, I feel as if I’m empty, that a part of me is missing. Sometimes, I feel as if I’m as high as a kite, yet about to fall at any moment. Then there are the times where I feel as if I’m crawling on my hands and knees through hot coals and broken glass because everything hurts, and there is no hope of it ever stopping.

Look at this past week for an example. For most of it, I’ve felt an emptiness. It’s the first time since I confronted and admitted what happened to me that I’ve been by myself in the house for days. Just myself and the dogs. Oh they’re great to be with, they’re keeping me somewhat sane, but it’s not people. I feel a craving for people right now. I do not like being left alone.  I was vacuuming in the kitchen today and the light threw my shadow awkwardly. I had a panic attack from the way it caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I thought someone was in the house with me and I knew no one was home. It took myself 10 minutes to talk myself down and out of that state.

Before that, I was content and happy. I had typed out a story, something I have not done in the longest time. Except for a hacking cough (I was told this is a good sign, it’s removing impurities out of my lungs) and a headache, I feel like I’m over the flu. I decided to do the little bit of cleaning that needs done. Then the shadow struck. At least it was the last bit I needed to clean. My mood quickly vanished and I was hyper vigilant for an hour at least. Still am, but I pacify that by sitting on the couch that looks the door to come in the house. And there’s a baseball bat by the door. I know how to swing it. Don’t get any funny ideas now, ok?

Just like that, it can take one tiny thing to set you off on a mood change. Or one major thing.  I never know what will change my outlook. I try to keep a cheerful one, but just ask some people that talk to me regularly, it’s rather hard at times, and I cannot help but see the dire side of everything.


There are some things that help. Artistic and creative things help. If I can focus on something for a bit, I forget what there is that can be bothering me. I can look at the beauty in things, and see a better life. Of course, when I get away from that, it looks like the world is crashing, but for those moments, I don’t see that, just something that I am creating. When my anxiety hits highs, I run for my tea. I know that a little bit of it, smelling or drinking, I can feel some anxiety leave. Not all, but enough to take the sharpest edge off.

Do you know what it’s like to feel that anxiety gripping you? How awful it is when it comes out of nowhere and grabs a hold of you and won’t go away, but keeps building? I get that a lot. It’s almost as if sometimes my body and psyche feed of vibes in the room. It doesn’t have to be mine, but if I sense it, I seem to absorb it.  I cannot help it, I’m an anxious person to begin with. Both social and regular anxiety. Supposedly that’s what one of my medications is for.


There’s more, but I have a feeling I have bored you already, so perhaps this is a good place to stop for now.



I’ve been sitting and thinking, trying to describe the feelings that are coursing through me. Partially this comes from feeling numb. I’m looking around and it seems that those I know are happy. They have a life, they have someone to share that life with. They’re not judged, they’re not on the outside looking in. They know they belong and what they’re meant to do.

Not I, I’m not allowed to feel like that. I’m the dog that is in the animal shelter that spends their life there. No one wants them, no one cares, except for the volunteer that routinely visits and gives love. But that’s not all the time, for they have a life of their own, their own worries and cares.

I live in a world of being rejected. Being looked down upon. Knowing that I’ve been damaged, and we all know, that no one wants the damaged products. They’re overlooked and discarded, hidden so no one can see the unsightliness they present. Thus is life, or so I say.

Lonely. Doomed. Damaged.  Unwanted.  Unlovable.  Worthless.  Discarded.  Broken.

Would I ever be someone or something someone would want. Besides to use me. I’ve been used. I’ve been thrown away. I don’t want to repeat it. I want to be loved. I want to feel what it is like to exist.  I no longer want to be hidden.

Will you continue to judge me based upon what you perceive to be as my imperfections? Do me a favor, please, walk in my shoes for a day, an hour even, and see what it’s like. Feel what I try not to feel. Experience what you make me experience. Doesn’t sound like fun does it? It’s not as made up as you have thought now is it?



Are You A Walker?

You know I’m geek. I proudly admit it. The few friends I have tease me about it. I’m told quite often that I’m such a geek. And I love it. So I guess in a way, you can blame this observation upon that fact. That I’m a geek and I think in certain ways create rather unusual analogies.

I’m always referring to zombies (after all they’re rather cool and amusing to try and debate about).  They’re interesting, and make you wonder if in fact they could be true. Are there zombies out there?


I believe that there are. Not in the way that you are thinking of the walkers trying to attack and eat you, or infect you with the same virus to turn you into a walker as well. No, not those types. I mean the emotional types.

Scary thought isn’t it? That there could be zombies among us and you would never know, unless you are brave enough to interact, or try to interact with them. Guess what? You have. You’re reading this after all. I feel that I have been an emotional zombie for most of my life, especially the past 9 to 10 years.

To me, this type of zombie exists quite like a so called normal person (after all, what exactly is normal except for people to try and justify why they think people should act in like manners), except that they are more robotic, blank, dead emotionally. Like I am. Well was, or still am, trying to get better at it. They feel nothing, but continue on in a day to day manner. They’re devoid of feeling anything.  They try, but they’re unable to. Let’s look at an example.


Hmm, where can we get one? Oh I know! Duh, it’s me. I was a living dead girl. Still am, just only now I’m living half dead girl. From the moment of my rape, I shut off all of my emotions, this is known as we know it lead to some other problems that I’ve talked about. I went about doing everything inside of shell of myself. I was robotic. I worked when I was able to (I’ll be honest, I ditched work a bit, and then quit). I worked ate slept. Rinse and Repeat. That was my life. Tried relationships, but apparently I cannot commit since as far it ever got was being engaged, yet unable to feel as if I could trust ended that. I have a great knack for picking such “great” guys that feel that they should dictate my entire life to me and make my decisions for me. I have gone about things without really caring, or wanting to know what the consequences are. Why would I though? After all I was dead. Am dead. I’ve become a walker in my own sense. Emotions were gone and I’m out to suck yours out.

I’m sure you’ve met others in your life besides me who are like this. It wouldn’t be so easy for me to write and admit this if I didn’t think there were others. It’s easy to do. To die and hide your emotions from everyone. What is the point in sharing them when it makes you hurt so much you wish you were dead?

Are you a zombie?

Zombie Cat