Hello,
Some of you have probably read my other topic: Hurt, Angry, Feel alone. It was a long, drawn out story of some specific things I've been dealing with more recently. I knew the day would come, however, when it came time to posting about my life. Well, my life has been one that is exceptionally crazy! It's hard for me to even recall things in order, because things occurred very rapidly, and was always ever-changing from one mess to the next. Something deep within me tells me that remembering will begin the healing process.
So, I'm choosing a morning, when I'm still half asleep to begin this intro. Why would I pick a time when my mind is only half here? I guess that now is better than never.
Before the divorce of my parents, (I was seven yrs old, my sister 5, and my brother 4) I was fortunate to have a great early childhood. I had a loving mother, and although I knew our father loved us, he had a hard time displaying outward affection.
My father was in the Navy, and our family moved around a lot. Guess I became used to a nomadic type of lifestyle, and later as an adult, I did become a lost wanderer for a substantial length of time!...the stories I can tell about the 'vagabond experience'...This will come later.
Before closing my intro, I should add that my father has been working over the years on showing his love more outwardly. He smiles more, says, "I love you" much more often, and is a bit more outgoing. I'm very proud of him, and we have a closer bond. It's just so hard that he lives so far away, as do the rest of my family. They're spread all over the United States.
Because of the fact we all love each other so strongly, it makes it doubly hard to be apart for more than a decade. (some of us, almost 20 yrs since we've seen one another face-to-face) Very depressing, so I'll continue this later.
My Story, as Far as Recalled
Moderators: windsong, BlueGobi, Moderators, Astrid
Almost all of my life has been very eventful, with rare breaks in between. It's hard for me to discern what to write and what I should skip...
If I were to share half of my 'story,' I fear it turning into a novel. Writing a basic timeline? Even this would take long. As I stated, my life has been eventful...huge twists and turns. (some of which are hard to recall for this very reason) I feel stumped and overwhelmed...
I feel lost, as though writing about my life is going to throw me into a mental and emotional maze of confusion, pain and...?? Regardless, I've the need to spill my guts. I just don't know how, and this hurts me.
If I were to share half of my 'story,' I fear it turning into a novel. Writing a basic timeline? Even this would take long. As I stated, my life has been eventful...huge twists and turns. (some of which are hard to recall for this very reason) I feel stumped and overwhelmed...
I feel lost, as though writing about my life is going to throw me into a mental and emotional maze of confusion, pain and...?? Regardless, I've the need to spill my guts. I just don't know how, and this hurts me.
Maybe you could think of this space as a journal and just start assembling bits and pieces, the easier ones to deal with first. As you get more comfortable and / or courageous you can delve deeper. You can rewrite parts if you like, reorganize them with the quote tool, and delete pieces later if you want.
You needn't look at them as written in stone. And unlike a journal you can get feedback.
Some pieces are bound to hurt, but once they are on the page they may hurt less than inside alone.
You needn't look at them as written in stone. And unlike a journal you can get feedback.
Some pieces are bound to hurt, but once they are on the page they may hurt less than inside alone.
Thank you Frame,
I've considered this. I don't know what you mean by making use of the quote tool, though.
With my cellphone, when I try to go back and correct things, a cursor arrow shows up and goes as nuts as I am. Haha.
Maybe I'll attempt to write some things down in a scattered matter. I'm just thinking that I need to get my memories in some semblance of order. It could be that even this might help. ? Sorry!
I've considered this. I don't know what you mean by making use of the quote tool, though.
With my cellphone, when I try to go back and correct things, a cursor arrow shows up and goes as nuts as I am. Haha.
Maybe I'll attempt to write some things down in a scattered matter. I'm just thinking that I need to get my memories in some semblance of order. It could be that even this might help. ? Sorry!
Hello 4everme,
how are u!
I am really sorry for not keeping contact with u for this long. I Will surely explain u why!
I hope it hasn't affected our mutual understanding.
Life has put u thru a lottt....i am feeling sooo sorry for u 4everme because ur circumstances have stretched long distances between u and ur loving father AND u and ur sweet daughter. But i undoubtedly believe that ur father wud proud of u in the same way as u are proud of YOUR daughter..
It Is really good that u ve decided to share story of ur life with all of us. Just feel as relaxed as u feel while listening to the ever so relaxing sounds of the bay near ur home.
Frame sir has sooo wonderfully chosen the words for u ...while advising u about how u shld proceed with ur story.
4everme, when we make ourselves to think about our past, our mind and heart talk to each other...so just keep typing everything that they both say. Just blurt out everything.
And About choosing time!
Well, u have moved in a new apartment which i think u r blending in with, pretty much warmly
. U are over with THE court case...the most scary part.
So that means, materialistically u have got over with almost all the creepy part. Now u shld proceed with the cleansing of the thoughts of ur heart too....which can be done by sharing everything. Just let it flow out.
I am here to listen u!
Saragupta.
how are u!
I am really sorry for not keeping contact with u for this long. I Will surely explain u why!
I hope it hasn't affected our mutual understanding.
Life has put u thru a lottt....i am feeling sooo sorry for u 4everme because ur circumstances have stretched long distances between u and ur loving father AND u and ur sweet daughter. But i undoubtedly believe that ur father wud proud of u in the same way as u are proud of YOUR daughter..
It Is really good that u ve decided to share story of ur life with all of us. Just feel as relaxed as u feel while listening to the ever so relaxing sounds of the bay near ur home.
Frame sir has sooo wonderfully chosen the words for u ...while advising u about how u shld proceed with ur story.
4everme, when we make ourselves to think about our past, our mind and heart talk to each other...so just keep typing everything that they both say. Just blurt out everything.
And About choosing time!
Well, u have moved in a new apartment which i think u r blending in with, pretty much warmly
. U are over with THE court case...the most scary part.
So that means, materialistically u have got over with almost all the creepy part. Now u shld proceed with the cleansing of the thoughts of ur heart too....which can be done by sharing everything. Just let it flow out.
I am here to listen u!
Saragupta.
Thank you Sara,
I like the way you put it- that our minds and hearts talk to us while remembering things with meaning. So true.
I've been procrastinating on writing my story, because there's too much to say! However, I did recall something both shocking and funny. So, I'll start it all off with this...
How many people can honestly say they've seen a man crap in a dixie cup? Truly?
I witnessed this outside of a Salvation Army, when I was 19-20 yrs old! There were three of us sitting outside in the smoking area, puffing away, and trying to ignore the mindless babble of this homeless guy sitting near us. Who knows what he was attempting to say? I can only recall something about railroad tracks, trains...and sentences that were indecipherable. He also spoke extremely fast, as he stared off into his own private oblivion.
Suddenly, he casually stood up and began to unzip his pants. It was broad daylight, mind you.
I was the only female, sitting in the company of three men, and Mr. Loolookedney Tunes. The other men ordered him to keep his pants on, reminding him, "Hey dude. Keep it zipped. There's a lady out here!" I believe the common consensus was that Mr. Looney was preparing to urinate. But...human beings are curious, by nature. Deep down, and below our disgusted veneers, there was a part of us dying to see what he had in store for us. He MORE than satisfied our curiosity, though he seemed to forget we were even there.
Looking back, I realize that not one of us attempted to escape the smoking area! Call it shock...even 'morbid curiosity.' Maybe even boredom? Haha! I'm only being honest; We were transfixed by the horrific and hairy scene before us! Two of us onlookers were Vietnam Vets. They were cussing up a storm, but they looked like they'd seen a ghost. Perhaps, they figured they'd seen it ALL, up to this point. (pun not intended)
Mr. Looney appeared to be doing some slow-motion dance with himself...mooning the world from all different directions. (while maneuvering in such a way as to get the dixie cup positioned to his hearts desire)
I'll just say that his aim was right on. When the cup was full, the remainder of his feces dropped down to his pants that were snug around his knees.
This was the time we all chose to run inside; The action was over, but the odor? Unbearable!
Somebody had finally retrieved the security guard from inside. As people were flocking out to see what all the ruckus was about, Mr. Looney was doing the balancing dance, in an effort to get his britches up! I believe he was arrested that day for Indecent Exposure. Really?
A number of weeks later, I hitched a ride out of Tulsa. I don't recall where I went, but upon returning to 'Nightmare Junction,' I learned something pretty interesting...
It was a regular afternoon, socializing and lighting up in the smoking section. I recognized everyone out there, all except for a new guy. He stood out from the rest, not only because he was exceptionally clean-cut, but he was also very articulate. After conversing for a while, he got up and went inside. One of the men asked me if I'd recognized that man. I replied that I just met him, that I'd been away for a while. The words that came out of his mouth, next, stunned me. "You don't remember when he sh** in that cup??"
(!!!) It was truly difficult for me to fathom him being the same man. Come to find out, he had come off of his medication, and the result was increasingly bizarre behavior. On his medication, he was as different as night and day.
I like the way you put it- that our minds and hearts talk to us while remembering things with meaning. So true.
I've been procrastinating on writing my story, because there's too much to say! However, I did recall something both shocking and funny. So, I'll start it all off with this...
How many people can honestly say they've seen a man crap in a dixie cup? Truly?
I witnessed this outside of a Salvation Army, when I was 19-20 yrs old! There were three of us sitting outside in the smoking area, puffing away, and trying to ignore the mindless babble of this homeless guy sitting near us. Who knows what he was attempting to say? I can only recall something about railroad tracks, trains...and sentences that were indecipherable. He also spoke extremely fast, as he stared off into his own private oblivion.
Suddenly, he casually stood up and began to unzip his pants. It was broad daylight, mind you.
I was the only female, sitting in the company of three men, and Mr. Loolookedney Tunes. The other men ordered him to keep his pants on, reminding him, "Hey dude. Keep it zipped. There's a lady out here!" I believe the common consensus was that Mr. Looney was preparing to urinate. But...human beings are curious, by nature. Deep down, and below our disgusted veneers, there was a part of us dying to see what he had in store for us. He MORE than satisfied our curiosity, though he seemed to forget we were even there.
Looking back, I realize that not one of us attempted to escape the smoking area! Call it shock...even 'morbid curiosity.' Maybe even boredom? Haha! I'm only being honest; We were transfixed by the horrific and hairy scene before us! Two of us onlookers were Vietnam Vets. They were cussing up a storm, but they looked like they'd seen a ghost. Perhaps, they figured they'd seen it ALL, up to this point. (pun not intended)
Mr. Looney appeared to be doing some slow-motion dance with himself...mooning the world from all different directions. (while maneuvering in such a way as to get the dixie cup positioned to his hearts desire)
I'll just say that his aim was right on. When the cup was full, the remainder of his feces dropped down to his pants that were snug around his knees.
This was the time we all chose to run inside; The action was over, but the odor? Unbearable!
Somebody had finally retrieved the security guard from inside. As people were flocking out to see what all the ruckus was about, Mr. Looney was doing the balancing dance, in an effort to get his britches up! I believe he was arrested that day for Indecent Exposure. Really?
A number of weeks later, I hitched a ride out of Tulsa. I don't recall where I went, but upon returning to 'Nightmare Junction,' I learned something pretty interesting...
It was a regular afternoon, socializing and lighting up in the smoking section. I recognized everyone out there, all except for a new guy. He stood out from the rest, not only because he was exceptionally clean-cut, but he was also very articulate. After conversing for a while, he got up and went inside. One of the men asked me if I'd recognized that man. I replied that I just met him, that I'd been away for a while. The words that came out of his mouth, next, stunned me. "You don't remember when he sh** in that cup??"
(!!!) It was truly difficult for me to fathom him being the same man. Come to find out, he had come off of his medication, and the result was increasingly bizarre behavior. On his medication, he was as different as night and day.
Gotta admit there's some humor in it, though.
Just don't tell this story to your grandkids, until they're atleast twelve.
Heck...With as screwed up as this world is getting, maybe EVERYBODY will witness this kind of thing in their lifetimes. Pray not!
And here I am. Plenty to talk about. Not knowing what should follow what I wrote above. Lol.
Just don't tell this story to your grandkids, until they're atleast twelve.
Heck...With as screwed up as this world is getting, maybe EVERYBODY will witness this kind of thing in their lifetimes. Pray not!
And here I am. Plenty to talk about. Not knowing what should follow what I wrote above. Lol.
to foreverme
fallen is seen walking in to the field,
head slumped over,
sorrow in his heart.
before him lay the coffee cups of the past and present,
some so young they have not had the sweet elixir,
it has never touched there young cardboard sides.
" oh, woe is me " fallen shouts, gesturing his fist at the sky,
"why did i read such a story of horror! ",
"sweet mercy help me! "
the match falls , the fire lit.
fallen walks away from the smoke and fire, his mind scarred for life,
his eyes blood shot and teary from the weeping,
and if you look closely he still has a slight ' tick' in his eye.
take care
fallen is seen walking in to the field,
head slumped over,
sorrow in his heart.
before him lay the coffee cups of the past and present,
some so young they have not had the sweet elixir,
it has never touched there young cardboard sides.
" oh, woe is me " fallen shouts, gesturing his fist at the sky,
"why did i read such a story of horror! ",
"sweet mercy help me! "
the match falls , the fire lit.
fallen walks away from the smoke and fire, his mind scarred for life,
his eyes blood shot and teary from the weeping,
and if you look closely he still has a slight ' tick' in his eye.
take care
Fallen,
ALOL!!! You are SO hilarious, with that mellow dramatic poem of yours! The imagery? Perfect...Hey, you're a great writer yourself, and truly gifted with putting thoughts and feelings into creative words that flow nicely.
I'm sitting here, drinking my coffee. The anguish I've caused my 'fellow fallen' burns like a raging inferno in the pit of my remorseful soul. And I lie, when I say "remorseful," Therefore, my pants are likewise in flames, much hotter than a cup of coffee could ever hope to be.
Selfish thoughts consume me; If fallen leaves all coffee behind? There is more for me, you see? More for me...e-t-e-r-n-a-l-l-y. It is okay, my dear...to set those mugs of flavor free...Coffee and hazelnut ALL for ME. ME. ME. ME...Oh! Have I mentioned ME??
Pitiful fallen, cannot you see? Your flames become my burning embers, infinitely. Your morning sips...sweet like honey upon your lips, are now a fading memory...
their ghosts? Transferred to my cup!
Oh please, fallen, continue to give that coffee up! Embrace your new sobriety...
Ever think of danged Mr. Looney...
Did I ever mention the cup he crapped in was initially empty?
It's okay, after all.
You can guzzle that coffee! (though charred will be your cups)
Lol!! What has become of my story?!
ALOL!!! You are SO hilarious, with that mellow dramatic poem of yours! The imagery? Perfect...Hey, you're a great writer yourself, and truly gifted with putting thoughts and feelings into creative words that flow nicely.
I'm sitting here, drinking my coffee. The anguish I've caused my 'fellow fallen' burns like a raging inferno in the pit of my remorseful soul. And I lie, when I say "remorseful," Therefore, my pants are likewise in flames, much hotter than a cup of coffee could ever hope to be.
Selfish thoughts consume me; If fallen leaves all coffee behind? There is more for me, you see? More for me...e-t-e-r-n-a-l-l-y. It is okay, my dear...to set those mugs of flavor free...Coffee and hazelnut ALL for ME. ME. ME. ME...Oh! Have I mentioned ME??
Pitiful fallen, cannot you see? Your flames become my burning embers, infinitely. Your morning sips...sweet like honey upon your lips, are now a fading memory...
their ghosts? Transferred to my cup!
Oh please, fallen, continue to give that coffee up! Embrace your new sobriety...
Ever think of danged Mr. Looney...
Did I ever mention the cup he crapped in was initially empty?
It's okay, after all.
You can guzzle that coffee! (though charred will be your cups)
Lol!! What has become of my story?!
to foreverme , queen of the flaming pants.
so that was your dastardly plan.
what is your next story about, a triple chocolate cake with lashings of double cream thrown to the ground, discarded, like it was nothing!
or a portuguese custard tart being over baked!
i say, enough of this .
your world wide domination has to to stop !
but you will be thwarted by the official pickle union and their super hero ,' pickle man '.
he will avenge poor fallen.
poor discarded, wretched fallen is seen rocking in the corner of his living room, mumbling to himself.
"i used to like cups!"
"i used to like cups!"
"i used to like cups!"
"ooooh....... a switch!"
"on"
"off"
"on"
"off"
take care
we can get back to your story now.
so that was your dastardly plan.
what is your next story about, a triple chocolate cake with lashings of double cream thrown to the ground, discarded, like it was nothing!
or a portuguese custard tart being over baked!
i say, enough of this .
your world wide domination has to to stop !
but you will be thwarted by the official pickle union and their super hero ,' pickle man '.
he will avenge poor fallen.
poor discarded, wretched fallen is seen rocking in the corner of his living room, mumbling to himself.
"i used to like cups!"
"i used to like cups!"
"i used to like cups!"
"ooooh....... a switch!"
"on"
"off"
"on"
"off"
take care
we can get back to your story now.
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