Posts Tagged With: lonely

Sleeping Is All I Do Good (Or Is It Well?)

Experience "faking" a smile is often confused with "having" a nice smile!

I am trapped in a life of feeling like a victim fighting to defend myself.  Depression is my way of existing. The one thing I do good is sleeping!  I even question my grammar skills to ask, is it only sleeping I do well or good?  I was molested as a child (1) and that may have set my path for life to fight to not be a defenseless victim again. I cannot break this feeling of constant defensiveness that borders on aggression (ok, ok, I am a mean, angry bloke that fights too much!! lol).  I want to write and explain how I feel and I find myself the victim of a poor education or weak mind that even infects this expression. Or should I say can not instead of cannot?

I have great friends and see them struggling with the pressures of life as well.  I know I am not alone in this experience of struggle, but, in general, they do not feel victimized by life.  To me I feel EVERYTHING is a struggle.  I have to FIGHT an insurance company to do what they are supposed to do for me.  I have to FIGHT my demons of a victimized childhood.  I try to bring attention to my cause with political leaders and have to FIGHT to be heard. I live with Multiple Sclerosis and FIGHT to live the best life I can in-spite of the constant pain and discomfort.  I am gay and have to FIGHT to prevent society from discounting my worth as a human for simply wanting equal treatment.  I have learned to live with this and feel the struggles and fighting to defend myself have made me a stronger man. Sadly now I also find I have to FIGHT to be respected within my own family.

Dad - The Watermelon King!

Recently my father passed away.(2)   It is understandable to be melancholy (or ma lunk o lee as Mega Mind would say).  But even feeling like a constant victim, I felt my father was in my corner.  When I “came out” to my family; my father, a very religious and conservative man, hugged me and held me by the shoulders and explained, “We (he and Mom) do not understand this.  But as long  as we remember we love each other, we will get through this.”  My life has become a series of getting through things.  I’ve lost the man in my corner.

Being disrespected could be my career also Mr Dangerfield!

A recent family situation helped bring focus to the fact my family has little or no respect for me.  Why not, who the hell am I to be respected?  Respect is earned.  My father respected me even if I had not earned it and again I feel I fight life alone.  I may not have earned respect, but I sure have not earned disrespect!  The disrespect is spreading to the next generation of my family and with no one in my corner in the family anymore, I choose to isolate myself from my family because the acceptance of the disrespect makes even sleeping, the one thing I am good at doing, more of a struggle.

Writing my little blog is even becoming a struggle.  I voice my opinions about the selfish attitudes of politicians and this “Tea Party”  movement (teabaggers as I affectionately call them) and I get people justifying why their opinion is more valid than mine or trying persuade my opinion.  I used to enjoy respectable debate, but have even grown tired of feeling I need to justify why I feel as I do.  I guess the teabaggers feel they are victims themselves for having to pay taxes for programs that do not benefit them directly – so they have the attitude do away with them.  But since I feel I identify more with the people that these programs are intended to help – I only see them as bullies.  When they have solutions other than just cut, cut, cut – then I may see them differently.

I still feel like this kid inside!

Sleep and depression go hand in hand.  Fatigue is my most common symptom of my MS.  Struggle wears a soul down.  I still feel my Dad’s hands on my shoulders and hear him saying, “We do not understand this.  But as long  as we remember we love each other, we will get through this.”  I am just struggling to remember the “feeling” of being loved, respected and protected.  I am tired of all the struggle and resign to do the one the I am good at – sleep.


Maybe you can show me some respect? lol

1  https://thomasajohnston.com/2010/05/25/innocence-taken/
2 https://thomasajohnston.com/2011/03/24/no-one-wants-to-write-their-fathers-obituary/

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Lonely for Love

Lonely for Love

At times I feel I’m tired of living

I know I’m not ready for the end

I tread water determined I want to swim

Life has made me so sore I can not even bend

I enjoy life’s little things

They add up to be one great big deal

The wounds of childhood covered by scars

Hoping to realize the day when all can heal

Each time I try to love

I get handed my hat and have to run

The ease to share and give my heart

I never realize until it has already begun

The feeling that I’m not good enough

Questioning why they only want to be friends

Thinking each time it will work

As soon as I hope, it ends

I continue to try to remove the band-aid

It gets tougher each time

One day I know true love I’ll discover

But for now this will be the end of my whine

This one was originally written September 19, 2006

Now – The BEST song EVER!!

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But

I am not sure if this would really be considered a poem or what, but it is something I wrote on August 23, 2006.  Since I share more than I should… I might as well share this:

But

Life is good

Life could be better

But life is good

 

There is good in life

There could be more good in life

But there is good in life

 

There are people I care about in my life

There could be more people in my life to care about

But there are people I care about in my life

 

There seems to be something missing in my life

There seems to be too many things complicating my life

But there seems to be something missing in my life

 

There is someone missing in my life

There is a fear in finding who is missing from my life

But someone is missing in my life

 

There is a lot for me to share with someone

There is trepidation to share even the desire to have someone in my life

But there is still a lot for me to share with someone

 

Life is good

Life could be better

But someone to share my life with would be good

 

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I Am A Firework!!!

Katy Perry has released the video for her song Firework. I know I am 43 and a guy, but while watching – I had to wipe tears from my cheeks!! Ok… I am a gay guy, but that may be only one of the reasons I was moved by this video.  I sometimes tend to find my own meaning in songs that may not be the intent of the “artist”.  What I heard was – find that strength inside to make yourself  proud of who you are, to stand firm (even in bad situations) to make your life better.

 

Each time she asked, “Do you ever feel ____?”  I was like, “YES, I DO!!”  The song would be described as pop targeted to teenagers but it has been a long time since I was last a teenager and yet these feelings still follow and even sometimes haunt me.  In the video, the actors are all young, but for teens that may be reading this – I am sorry…. these feelings often follow you into adulthood if they are not addressed when you are young.  As an adult it is a struggle at times to find this firework inside and it is one reason I so admire many young people who OWN their inner 4th of July; because I know it had to be difficult for some!

Some people are fortunate and have a self igniting “firework” system.  Mine at times has to be choked, primed and refueled to just get it to spark.  But I have learned that even the beautiful people usually have or had their own struggles.  I feel there are few that have always had it “easy”, some are just better at hiding their pain and struggles – Good Bless Them!!  I feel a lot of us try so hard to project a perfect image that we forget…. in this crazy world – we are all in it together.

Another thing I have learned – there are a lot of people who no matter how bad they feel, how bad their situation – some have it worse.  When I wrote about health care, it was from my perspective of not having health insurance and no access to it.  I wrote with the hopes people could learn from my experience without having to be in my situation.  A junior high school friend died because he could not get insurance to help in treating his cancer. So as bad as my situation was…. even then…. he had it worse and paid a much higher price.

With all the recent bullying of kids that has led to suicide, I am saddened that people still tear others down to feel good about themselves.  Taking things out on others as a way to deal with our own problems is unacceptable!  Young or old, we need to learn to help each other more.  We need to ALL be FIREWORKS so the ones struggling know who can help.  If you have found your own fireworks, let your colors burst, offer to help others ignite their spirits!  We as humans need to this – we ALL have opportunities to be a firework.  Even if our individual firework show is small…. together we could live evry day like we OWN the 4th of July!!


 

Firework Lyrics

Do you ever feel like a plastic bag
Drifting throught the wind
Wanting to start again

Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin
Like a house of cards
One blow from caving in

Do you ever feel already buried deep
Six feet under scream
But no one seems to hear a thing

Do you know that tehre’s still a chance for you
Cause there’s a spark in you

You just gotta ignite the light
And let it shine
Just own the night
Like the Fourth of July

Cause baby you’re a firework
Come on show ’em what your worth
Make ’em go “Oh, oh, oh!”
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby you’re a firework
Come on let your colors burst
Make ’em go “Oh, oh, oh!”
You’re gunna leave ’em fallin’ down-own-own

You don’t have to feel like a waste of space
You’re original, cannot be replaced
If you only knew what the future holds
After a hurricane comes a rainbow

Maybe you’re reason why all the doors are closed
So you can open one that leads you to the perfect road

Like a lightning bolt, your heart will blow
And when it’s time, you’ll know

You just gotta ignite the light
And let it shine
Just own the night
Like the Fourth of July

Cause baby you’re a firework
Come on show ’em what your worth
Make ’em go “Oh, oh, oh!”
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby you’re a firework
Come on slet your colors burst
Make ’em go “Oh, oh, oh!”
You’re gunna leave ’em fallin’ down-own-own

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
It’s always been inside of you, you, you
And now it’s time to let it through

Cause baby you’re a firework
Come on show ’em what your worth
Make ’em go “Oh, oh, oh!”
As you shoot across the sky-y-y

Baby you’re a firework
Come on slet your colors burst
Make ’em go “Oh, oh, oh!”
You’re gunna leave ’em goin “Oh, oh, oh!”

Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon
Boom, boom, boom
Even brighter than the moon, moon, moon

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Innocence Taken

*Warning* – This is the most personal writing I have ever done.  I wanted to challenge myself as a writer to see how I would be able to present the subject.  It is very personal, and unlike my other stories… this one is not presented as entertainment.   This story involves the account of a very personal childhood sexual trauma and its life-long effects… proceed with caution if you are sensitive!  I have tried to be true to the subject and give comprehensive descriptions without ALL of the graphic details!  This post was very difficult for me to write and I could not write it in 1st person… I had to refer to myself as “the boy” as I wrote.  I hope this to be therapeutic for me to write about this topic for the fist time.   I hope people are able to see and  understand there are a lot of kids we never know have secrets and carry pain we may never understand.  It is a tough burden even as I have become an adult.

There was a boy.  A boy who many met and said, “He will either be a politician or a preacher”.  His mother had small suits for him even at age 5 giving him the look of a young politician or preacher.  He wore these suits to church with great pride.  This boy would meet regulars and strangers as the came into the church giving them a warm welcome.  For most, they may not have understood much of what he said because he had his own language due to a hearing issue, but that never slowed him at his mission – make everyone feel welcomed.  He was such a politician that he even would work the room giving the little old ladies kisses.  He was such a politician in that he had a motive with this strategy…. some of the old ladies would give him some gum as a reward.  If the gum had been money… he not doubt would be a U.S. Senator or may even President today!

This trusting and outgoing personality worked against him with one person… a young man.  When this boy was 5, this young man (I will call Mitchel – of course not his real name) was about 15.  Mitchel decided that the young boy was a suitable target.  There were many other young boys in the church, but this boy (now an adult) has no idea why he was chosen.  You may ask want was he chosen for… I can only say the boy was chosen to lose his childhood.

The boy’s mother had bought him a trench coat… no less a London Fog trench coat for a 5-year-old was quite styling in small town Mississippi in 1971.  This was the beginning of forced integration in Mississippi, but this historical event was not the event he remembers from 1971.  This boy remembers being led by his hand by Mitchel to a bathroom in the church.  The boy was confused why he was inside that bathroom with Mitchel, but soon the painful truth was found out.  Mitchel did not need the bathroom…. he needed a locked door and privacy.  This day is what the boy recounts as his very first memory of his life…. nothing before is remembered even as an adult.  He remembers his London Fog trench coat being removed and spread on the floor like a picnic blanket would.  The next action was Mitchel beginning to remove the young boys clothes.  The boy remembers being lain on his trench coat but not as picnic blanket, but as a bed.  Soon the boy saw Mitchel was undressing as well.  The naked boy could not run out without his clothes, what was he to do?

Mitchel was a son of a trusted (and wealthy) neighbor.  The boy relaxed…. this was some kind of game.  But then Mitchel joined the boy on the floor.  The boy had not even seen his father naked that he remembers, so seeing the pubic hair on a male body was also new and confusing.  Soon the boy felt the grip of Mitchel’s hands as he was lifted and laid on top of Mitchel, but not in a position to be told a story because all the boy saw as the private area of Mitchel that was used for peeing.  “Why was hair there?  Why is my face here?” the boy asked himself.  Then another new sensation, the boy felt his “tallywacker” taken inside the mouth of Mitchel.  Then as the boy looked up again he heard, “Kiss it”.  The boy had kissed little old ladies with mustaches and knew this was not worth any piece of gum and refused.  He felt a slap on his small ass that was equal to discipline and not a game and he gave Mitchel’s dick a kiss.  This time it was a simple lips against the dick with no open mouth.  The boy had of course never had an orgasm and could not explain what was happening and reported to Mitchel, “I have to pee.”  But the boy did not know what was happening to him.  Many do not know (I hope) that a child can have an orgasm without ejaculating and there is a pleasurable sensation.  “Do not tell anyone because you did not stop me, you are guilty also.”, the boy heard.  I did say earlier this time… because this story repeats itself over 8 years.  The boy kept the secret out of fear and shame.

The boy began to lose fear about the encounters with Mitchel, because Mitchel refered to the encounters as “the game”.  “Do you want to play the game?”, the boy would hear.  At some point… it had become a game… even the boy found pleasure in “the game”.  The last time was april 16, 1979.  This day is marked for a couple of reasons. Tornadoes were in the area and the boys’ family went to Mitchel’s parents house because they still had power.  Mitchel was away for college and not living at home at this time, but was home for a visit.  The boy knows the exact date as not only the date of his last encounter, but also the day his best friend’s father died.  After “the game” the boy came back into the room with all the adults and saw everyone crying.  GUILT stabbed the boy in the heart.  He thought all the crying was because they knew what he had been doing.  He felt guilt for what he had done, he felt guilt for being more concerned about his situation than his 11 year-old friend who had just lost his Dad, he felt guilt because “the game” was a game that he had grown to enjoy.  That is a lot of guilt for a 12-year old.

There are a lot of ways to cope and the boy’s mechanism was humor.  He became the class clown or at least tried.  At 17 the boy was a good-looking young man himself.  He was tall and thin with a swimmers build.  He had done some modeling that would give most an ego or sense of pride, but not this young man.  This young man was still the boy. The guilt ridden, class clown was now alone at university.  He had few friends to be the clown for and Mtv was new with limited videos to pass his time.  This is when a bottle of pills began to feel comfortable in his hands.  The thought of taking them all at once would pass.  The more times the bottle was held in his hands…. the longer he held them, the more he thought.  The thoughts were only of how to find relief.  The thoughts consumed him even when the bottle of pills was not in his hand.  This continued until that he was not able to set the pills down.  There was a bottle of cherry vodka at his apartment.  He knew when purchasing the vodka that he would want or need some flavor as his plan was to drink all of the bottle with the pills.

The vodka was removed from the freezer and the boy, now a young man, prepared a large glass of ice to pour the freezer cold vodka over.  He drank about 8 ounces before the first pill found its way to his lips.  He sobbed as he placed pill after pill and swallowed the cold vodka.  Once the last pill was placed in his mouth he forgot the glass and killed the remainder of the vodka straight from the bottle.  The boy was dead.  As he felt his stomach heaving, he had no idea his friend was with him.  He woke the next day feeling hung-over and not dead.  He prayed for death as he began to cry again uncontrollably.  The boy was dead… but the young man with A LOT of problems remained.  His friend asked why the young man had drunk so much.  The friend did not know or realize the pills had been in the mix.  But getting sick from drinking too much cherry vodka saved the young man.

The young man wept as he told his friend the story.  It was the first time he had told anyone.  The 3rd grade teacher did not understand why the boy would break into tears explaining why he had not done his homework.  She thought it was because of the guilt of not being a good student, but little did she know about the guilt the boy had.  She missed it!  So did everyone that laughed at the clown.  The family, the friends, the teacher and preachers all missed it.  Actually everyone missed it.  The boy was now a young man with a headache and a friend that knew his deepest secret.  The young man told his family.  He did not become a politician or a preacher!  The healing began …. but as I write this – the scar remains!

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Life Continues Even When We Stand Still!!

One thing about me is I know I am crazy or simply insane and embracing this helps me cope. lol  But a few years ago I met someone and fell in love.   We had great times together.  What he and I had is what I wanted the rest of my life. I still say is instead of was because I still have moments that I feel it is possible.  I still have dreams this love is or could be returned to me and be real as I imagine.  I know this person deep in his heart loves me the same but is just scared.  We still have occasional interactions via the internet and as much fun as it is to visit and catch up…. I am left with the feeling of wanting to shake him because it is like a game to him – he has me as a loving a devoted friend and I have the emptiness of knowing I am incomplete without him.  This person has friends but keeps me in his life (but at a distance) because he knows he will have no better friend than me, but I still need more than just the friendship… I need his love.  I do not know why he cannot even give it a try?  I do not know why I still want to try?  But as life moves on, I am remaining standing still – hoping and having faith he will one day know I am the one he should be with!

Being crazy also helps me cope because I know all the things about moving on, restarting my life, having new love: but I chose to have faith in him.  This person does love me, I have no question, but it is still an incomplete love.  This love is evident because he continues to survive the drama I am for his life.  He does not stand still, but seems to move only in a circle to end up back in the same situations and his life does not break the pattern but he continues to move.  I believe in this person more than anyone one outside my family.  I know what is good about him.  People like him, but I do not know that anyone has ever seen him for all he is and can be.  Some people really do not like him and I think that comes from them sympathizing with my pain.  They do not like him because they only see that he continues to reject the kind of gift that is so rare in life.  Or maybe they just do not like him because he is a shithead!! lol  But shithead or not… I love him and stand still as life moves on!

I sometimes have to try to be creative in expressing my feelings.  But it hard to move past a failed relationship when it NEVER was a relationship.  But as I stand still and he moves in his circles… maybe he will pass me on one of his loops and things will be different… not just for me, but also for him.  We make each other better!

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