Tag Archives: strongwoman

#bloganaury 5

Todays prompt: what is something you wish you knew how to do

“The beautiful journey of today can only begin when we learn to let go of yesterday.”

Steve Maraboli

In a nutshell, the above quote says it all.

I have always been a self motivating person. When I wanted to learn to sew, I did. Pretty much on my own. I won’t lie and say I am extremely gifted or always take my time and pay attention to all the details but I will say I can sew a zipper!! When I wanted to raise a couple of goats to milk for their milk I learned how, then proceeded to learn to make goat milk soap, which I recommend to any and all with skin conditions or to those who just want a natural but lavish soap. When I wanted to learn to cook, bake and grow a vegetable garden, I rolled up my proverbial sleeves and leaned, I was self taught. Self motivation and self discipline are traits I am thankful for. I can really only think of one thing I aspire to but am regularly defeated, flounder and fold at. It is not forgiveness that I lack, I think. It isn’t that I cannot let go of yesterday even. How can I let go of the past when I still find myself repeating the same pattern? I do positive self talk, I do the homework and I practice it. Still, I am back in the same paddle boat, without the paddle. I have come up with a plan this time, I love lists so plans are fun to make. Of course, that requires plan A and plan B. This is where it gets problematic. At the moment my right knee ie impaired so I am unable to execute said plan(s). I will, however keep everyone au courant!!!

I wanted to learn to sew cloth diapers when my kids were still using them. This was the last batch I made in 2007. I googled for patterns, I don’t recall the site I used. Anything you want to do in life, you can do! Make up your mind, don’t settle! I am still working on my process but I know that what I put my mind to do, I do. So can you!

Heroin

I am nothing more and nothing less

Than what I have become. I have become what I despise.  I think I will always be what I hate, what I have become. I tried to run and What I ran from. Is what into.  It chased me down and now as I stare into lifeless eyes they seem to me my own eyes I stare upon.
This is an illusion of me. Confidant? Not truly. Carefree? Not really.. I thought I owned my addiction. I thought I handled it. Maintained it, controlled it. It broke from free from its chains. It roared to  life angry at its bit that held it. It came at me with fiery darts. Darts laced with Heroin. That became my Master. For all the control I had on meth. Heroin took more on me. The only pure high imaginable. The chase for it endless. Feeding it Was impossible. The hunger pains rooted and inflamed by the lust for it. Lust. Is it ever satisfied? Addiction? is it ever cleansed from your soul once it has left is Mark?  Is it ever forgotten. Are we Ever forgiven. Can we forgive ourselves..
I’m alone. Alone with myself. Am I lonely. For it. For him. My friend that helped me become what I am. He wanted me for naught but more darkness that I held in my wallet. How used I am. I am used so thoroughly that I am useless. Like a dried up well. A wasteland. Wasted away. I am heartless.  I can love only that which takes leaving me loveless but to the unlovely, I deserted my loved ones. I deserted myself. I ran my race but I ran a course that was not meant to be ran. I decided myself to be this. To become this. They only showed me the path. I opened myself to this disaster.  My falling from grace. My falling into Heroin. You fiend. You falsehood of character. I am not your slave. I broke your chains. But I cannot break so easily from you in my mind. For  it is where your memory remains. Buried. In a shallow grave. You rear your ugly face and I cringe. For this moment of clarity I pay dearly. This cleanliness is unbearable. This destruction is ongoing as I answer his call and ask. No. I beg for his return. I yearn , as much for him as it. Wrapped up n in a warm blanket of oblivion. If not a warm coffin of death. Will he call again. Will he help me wobble to my chains again. Only he can free me from freedom. Only he can chain me to the chains I offer him.  Death isn’t always cold and isolating. Where I have been  its a blanket of love, lust and a yearning for more. Always more. The beast is s hungry beast. Ready to pounce on innocent souls, our loved ones crying out to us for us as we indulge our addiction to the beast that knows not race or Creed. Is not prejudiced against anyone but the ones that say no. To the truly strong. The ones that stay true to b themselves and the ones they love. But I love none. Not myself. Not anyone. I love him  for what he gives me. He gives me the beast. Will I become strong enough to conquer my elf. My beast. My destruction. I rides on destruction. I looks for freedom in a prison.I seek freedom in chains. I loves my Master. My keeper. My lover. A faceless heartless destroyer. It knows not a thing but is all  knowing of our shortcomings and promises to fulfill our deepest need. To know. To experience freedom from pain, and Rejection.  Our struggles to acquire it far outweigh our struggles to live. To Love. To feel anything. Pleasure is only acquired through its course through our veins. It’s arrival into our soul as it captures our spirit. Drains our dreams empties our pockets and finishes our lives. We r remembered as nothing more nothing less than heroin addicts. Mothers give up their children. Wives give up their husbands. And our children give up their lives to it. It takes over every part, every spectrum of dignity. And it makes us barbaric and debased to the masses. It ruins everything it touches. It touched my soul and I gave it my life. I handed myself to a brown spec of nothing that promised a minute of freedom. But only a minute. And that freedom was a dream dreamt in desperate  delirium of deceit. Longed for by the desperate. Desperate for the happy delirium  that makes puppets out of us. Addicts. Addicted to Heroin is addicted to nothing short of hell designed to look and feel like heaven, every fiber of my being covets its return. Return, Return private hell. Return capture me again. Take me captive. Take me prisoner. Force my defeat.my surrender Take me that I can n once again dance in my saviors arms  tho they b cold heartless loveless arms they are at least arms I can feel. Arms I can love. Arms that deserve a wretched sort as I,  come to me I beckon you. I beseech all that is hell to overcome this indecisiveness and have him come to me. Take me. Take me away to a land of dragons that breath fire. Fast and furious be your agreement to come. This refuge is not the Refuge I desire. I desire you, Heroin. How can I refuse you. How  long will my hunger b denied. How long will you hide your lovely face. Come to me. Come to me  I long to wrap my body with your warmth, your passionate kiss of death so far. Why did you run. Why did you go so far. Come back to me. I will work for you to please me. I will work for your pleasure. I will do whatever you ask if you but  remain with me. I have a lovely face  I have a comely figure. I will give over myself to you. My mind I will Forge to your liking. Your acceptance is my priority. Your taking me is consuming me. Why wait any longer. I give you full ownership to all that I have if you will just own me. Love Me with loveless arms. Just say you love me. Say you will not desert me again. Stay by my side as I refuse them. Deny them charge of my being. You are my Master to which I give my sovereign loyalty. My creation was for you to satisfy yourself. Depleted of choice I still choose you. Can I beg more? Can I offer more? Pray tell and it is yours. I desire you as I desire breath. I offer my whole body. My person. It is yours if you will only take. Take me and I will serve you well. Take me and let my body  please you. My arms long for you, to feel you. To become one with you. Can you not hear me. Why do u stay so far. You are  so distant with the one that wishes to become yours. To become what you will. What you desire, take my soul. Take my spirit. Take  it all but give me your promise of ownership. I needed you once and  you came. Won’t you come again. Won’t you relieve my pain. Give me your shackles and I will serve you shackled. Give me your promise of lies and I will make them my truth. My all I offer. Is it not enough? Our paSt should be our present. My future I give you. I offer it all. On my knees I vow to you my money. My allegiance. My priority will be your priority. My promises will be your  promises
Take me. Make me. Mold me. Train me, make my life yours. You hold all that i now hold dear. Come. Let us indulge together the sweetest of sin. Come. Take me to your prison. I will not run. I will not deny your rights to me which I freely give. Just come to me. I offer more than I am willing to give but give i shall.  With ease I defile my principles to serve a master of such evil assault that would deny me. A taste of its delicate wine. Rich n in lies. wealthy in its entirety of lies and it far out reaches my denial. If you but come to me. Take me. Master, I beg you. Do not deny your servant her service of pleasure.

June 30
He came to me to leave me. He gave me a little back of what he took. But he tossed that part of me to the wayside.  Perhaps I am just an afterthought. Small  insignificant me. Remaining at  your feet begging for your scraps. Remnants of memories can be forged into any one thing you find good and acceptable as long as you think in certain, carefully thought out delirious thoughts producing memories you want to remember and not memories you long to forget
Forgetting yourself. Forgetting your loved ones. Tossing them aside as you prepare to b tossed away into oblivion. Addiction. Heroin  is a ravenous fiend carefully walking, lurking ,stalking those hurt lost Weary soul’s that dare pass by. TaKing what it can. It can take everything. It breathes it’s poison into your soul while it’s injected into your arm. Innocently it begins. Just a thought at first. Just one time. But then. The once turns into twice And the twice turns into your life, as lies sink  into your heart and come out ugly and evil truths.  I am alone. Alone with myself. Alone to think. So very alone. I think I believed him so I could believe in it. If he wouldn’t let me down and it didn’t Let me down then I’d remain on top. But being on top isn’t the grand adventure I told myself it would be. It’s not Grand. Nor is it an adventure. Not even a story worth mentioning. Just another lost, Weary, sad soul entwined in self hatred and self loathing that cannot be fed on its own but by the poison that deceives it with every administration. I cannot quite recapture the woman I once Was. Her essence has been reborn. Rebirthed into an addict living in a private prison of darkness relieved only by the Feeding of this monster. The character of it is unfathomable, its evil ways to re capture the warm cloud of peace. The deceptive taste bitter sweet and in the end it only leads to more self hatred which leads to more captivation to the poison of Heroin. Yes. I know my nemesis name. My foe. My faithless friend. Heroin. I can call it by its name. It knows that I know it. I am after all. It’s keeper. I feed it. I’ve helped it grow. I let loose on myself the vilest of affliction, my Heroin addiction.  Can I be saved? That is not the question my dear. The question is. Do I want to b saved. Do I want to see myself. Do i want to know myself? Is there anything  good left inside of myself that I can deem worthy of salvation? I really cannot answer such a question as this. I have no answers but lingering questions myself. These are the questions I hide from. I run from. I devise daily to a fault the perfect way to avoid asking them at all. If by chance I defy myself and ask, well then, I’ll have hit a bump, just to make a bump. My fix is my fix all. My beast performs well. On time. Every time. I bask in the warm cloud I float upon on each use of its poison. That I readily chose. Readily I chase my Dragon down. It never makes me chase it long. It awaits around the bend to offer me comfort against the assault of pain on  remembering the beauty of those precious jewels I hid from myself. Hid them so as to not destroy them. Every now and again I look into my minds eye and I can capture the sound of their giggles and stomping  Feet so precious that I cannot allow myself to touch them. There is to much I want to say. So many explanations I cannot give. So much love I want to share but all my  love is not able to love. . A shadow remains. But my monster, my ugly fiend. My face. My very being is that desolate desert of despair I desire to spare them my defection into darkness. Theencumbrance of being me. Go on beauty. Beautiful soul’s move away. Go. Flee from me as fast as you can. Don’t look back. Back at me. Move on. You are the best of me, with tremendous effort I give  way to another. With inner strength of will I leave you. It is like iron this will. This iron fist of addiction I let grab me when I first flirted with this destructive decision. This addiction. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I laid invalid while it ravaged me. While it sank its claws  into my soul and I gave myself over to  it. I laid willingly upon my bed of despair and begged it to overcome with a moment, just a moment of what it promised. Not fully understanding the depth of proprietorship it would have on me once I had tasted it’s sweet juice. It’s poison. It’s pollution over my being my soul

Broken

The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.

Ernest Hemingway


I believe in that quote. I am stronger today in my broken places but it took 7 years and a two year stint in prison to heal that brokenness but it certainly did. I think. I was married 16 years and had three beautiful children. My marriage was a happy one until one day it wasn’t. I sank into a depression.Actually I have struggled with severe depression all my life.

Let me backtrack a little. When I say I sank one day, I think that is not quite true. I was a lonely little girl that grew up with horses and alcoholic father. After fourth grade I was home schooled. I grew up often times scared of the outbursts of a dry drunk father. That is what my mother called him. To this day I don’t totally understand the meaning. I just know I was alone and scared and as I understand the meaning, broken.

I will post this and update it as I can. I brings up a lot of pain and I have begun to see perhaps my brokenness is has not healed and mended as much as I thought.

update: I think this will be as broken piece of written material as I have ever written. Bare with me please. I must sort through my broken thoughts, delicately, to reach my broken heart and then I can brokenly talk, or write about it.

So I was homeschooled at fifth grade and let loose into the countryside astride a horse. I had the grandest time riding. I let my imagination fly as fast as I let my horse gallop. I was anybody and anyone I wanted. I learned to do tricks, riding backwards, spinning in my saddle at a gallop. I had read that Native American riders would tie a knot into their horses manes and then loop their arms through it to appear as if the horse had no rider and then attack the settlers from under the horses neck. So I attempted the same. Horses became my friends. At one time I had four of my own. I can’t say I did any schooling. I did however have a very quick memory recall so once I read something I retained it so it looked like I was doing my work but my math was terrible. You can say I have fourth grade education. Because that was the last full year of school I ever did.

The other side of my growing up was my father was abusive towards my mother. I was the youngest of five kids. At the age of thirteen or fourteen my dad began introducing me as his girlfriend. I was shocked and felt utterly disgusting when I noticed the leers of the men he had introduced me. It wasn’t until I was divorced and in therapy I understood why I felt so gross and throughout my teens and young adulthood I would shave my head and do anything to NOT have my father call me beautiful.

Fast forward….why digress and talk about what fucked me up. Let me finish with the fact that I choose to forgive my abusers. I am not ready to talk about it. I am however ready to move on and sometimes that means you stop thinking about it. You focus on here and now, the present. I survived, I am overcoming and I am not being hurt anymore, in fact the only time I hurt now, is when I let them, in my memories. We can choose our thoughts. We can stop thinking about one thing and rethink upon positive. Stay positive. I am broken. In places. I am healed and healing some of my broken places and in those places I am stronger, wiser and that is what I will end this on.

Mad

I am not mad. I will not get mad. Bothered? Yes, you could say I am bothered. Momentarily. Skipped a beat is all in the grander scheme of things. Even so, it was a much needed step I had to take, miss step though it was in order to get back to doing and being me. Indeed! Mad? Me? No, not mad at all.