This is today

I’m done with letting the MEN

crush me with words and fists that are in the shapes of dicks

NO! because I got tits does not mean you grope me

does not mean you have me

does not mean you are me

NO!

I am a human a living, breathing, a skin with a soul

I have a feeling, a thought, I have a conscience a naught, NO!
You cannot make me your game, you cannot make me your tale!

I will not be spoken of in your shaky circle and NO!

I will scream it until your ears bleed until you are crying, NOO!

I will kick the word into your face, until you see it, can you see it, NOO!

I hate your stupid breathe, it makes me sick, hear me say it, NOO!

Yes baby the only yes you will hear is this yes that says NOOOOO!

Slam

Do you really think this is who I want to be?

Do you think I am smiling back at me?

The outbursts and violence I see it all playing out.

The scene is moving and I am smashing everything dear to me.

No, I do not want to be Me.

You think it is pride or ignorance

You think it is careless, you think it is sharp

But let’s remember that you are talking about ME

I never wanted to be a person of impulse, a person that’s loud, or a person that is named “too much”

I see, what you see, and I hate what you see but what can I do

What can I do?!

I sit back and see this figure acting; she is smashing everything.

THEN

Then I realize it’s me and I have no control, and I just want to get out and run.

Every single thing that you hate I hate more so you cannot hurt me that much.

Every word that I say I hate more so you don’t have to remind me of my foul play.

If there were sticks I would burn me, water I’d drown me, a rope I would hang me.

Wait, I do that every day by living this way. My person is sinking down.

Do you see this, I want to show you the person that I have holding in my hand

That is who I want to be and she is not like that so can you give me break?

Tear it and turn it. Burn it and then you will know.

The person you see and you hate, I can do it much better.

My brain is turned in toward oppression. Slam.

Anxiety

I slept three hours. I should be tired. I feel like I am on speed.

My chest is tight. My breath is shallow. My thoughts are pitter-patter and incomplete.

I start something and I cannot finish it. I cannot start the things I want to finish.

I am staring at the words of this book and I cannot comprehend any of it. My mind is racing and hollow. I can hear the world echo loudly and it mocks me.

My hands are shaking. My sweat is cold. I keep going into the bathroom but nothing happens. I realize I was just there. My world is spinning and I am very scared.

What will happen to me tomorrow, and the next day, how will I survive in this constant mania?

Misfit

Why can't I just be NORMAL. 

Why can't I act like these people I see surrounding me and passing me by. 

I feel like I am on the merry-go-round. Faces are blurring into words, into noises, and I cannot catch my breath as it spins faster and faster. I am just trying to hold on long enough to save my life and then the slowest thought enters in and asks why? Why hold on? What are you saving? 

This chaos always returns and it is so unbearable. It reminds me that I am not making it. That I am always dangling by this thin web, thinking I am building something or doing something but one gust of madness and I forget it all. 

Right now, I live because I have to, not because I want to. I can barely hide my tears, my choking on a few words to get my work done. I ask for help and I am shamed. There is no room here to not perform. So I pull up that mask and try to make it one more hour, one more day. 

Meanwhile, wanting to run away, everything in me says run, hide, scream, cry, get away... I fantasize about letting it all go. All of the bills, the things that keep me, I understand why mad people are on the street. It is so hard to function in society. It is so hard to do the simple things and to hold a job. 

When I am high I got this but when I am turning on that merry-go-round and the colors are blurring and I cannot distinguish words... well holy fuck how can I work on high demand. There is no place for someone like me. It certainly is not here. 

Intimidated to Obey

His voice commanded obedience. I would scurry in and find a place near or up front. I had my heavily read holy book, earmarked corners, highlighted, and underlined. 

I was dressed conservatively, very conscience and careful as not to cause any boy or man to sin with their eyes. That would be my fault entirely. 

His voice boomed again, he leaned over the pulpit, his bald head perspiring, the vein in the side of his head pulsing. 

He is "preaching". He is telling me what to do. He is telling me how to please god, by obeying him and his authority.

Afterwards, I run to him and tell him, I will obey, I concur, you are my authority. He hugs me. He tells me that I am a good girl.

Have I made everything alright now? Have I been saved? Is the universe corrected? Is the darkness at bay? Is the leprosy healed? 

I was doing all of these things with great effort to please this invisible and what I now understand to be imaginary force. 

I grew up feeling I could never please my natural father. That translated into this spiritual invisible father. I made every effort and every move toward pleasing. 

I failed both. Both were authoritative. Both were threatening. Both were forceful personalities, intimidating. 

I remember learning that how you see your natural father is how you will see or relate to god, well I guess I am totally fucked.

No, I do not believe in the supernatural. I do not rely on imagination to get me through my troubles or to be an explanation. 

I will not be intimidated into believing and into being controlled. That will not happen spiritually or otherwise. 

Now, that voice, it does not command me. If I heard it again, I would cringe, maybe scream or laugh.

He Rubbed My Back...

He rubbed my back... several times, often, regularly, as a common occurrence. The type of rub that was slow, that pulled you in, that was the full length of your back. It went slowly, up and down and there was some pressure to pull me in closer and talk about important things. 
These things were so important I had no right to pull back, no right to draw out some space. These things were important and intimate, I needed to come close, so close that I could feel and smell his breath. I could hear the licking of his tongue with his words. It flicked out in between sentences. 
Then I tell myself, what if I am making all of this up? What IF it is my imagination? My perception of the relationship; skewed by poor male relationships built from day one with my most primary one, my father. 
Has that and all that had followed up to this point damaged me this severely that I perceived the Pastor as a pervert?
Yet, my husband saw it. I brought it up, he saw it, and he agreed. On more than one occasion I begged for his protection or defense. 
I was left as wounded prey.
It built up and I eventually shut down and refused to attend anymore. 
Yes, I could have acted in a healthier and assertive way. I can "see" what I could have and should have done. I was not emotionally able. 
Now, I am very reactive to men. If I am shown any interest I sort of reply back like an aggressive dog. 
As far as if this contributed to my fall from grace, no. However, it did demonstrate how fake religious belief is for those in higher position. 
It is power and it is a mask. The ones below are more sincere but more likely to be abused in some form. It did not destroy my faith but it did help open my eyes. 

You are Hurt

I am having a hard time with this. I guess if I were honest, I would have to say that I am in denial. 

I get the daily updates and I see the Gofundme. I am sorry, but I read those updates very quickly. I skim them for the most important parts. You are alive. 

Then I think of you throughout the day. I imagine what you look like lying there. I imagine the beeping of the machines, the shuffling of nurses, the cold and uncomfortable hospital chairs. In my mind I am pacing.

I do not know what to say to you. Do I tell you everything will be alright? Will it? What does that mean? What does that look like? What if it will not be alright? I cannot say it. I cannot say it if there are still too many questions and unknowns. Where are you? Are you present in your body? Can you come back? It has been a series of holding my breathe, then crying, then being corrected on information, then holding my breathe again.

Yes, I am angry. Yes, I am sad. Yes, it is hard for me to have hope. No, I am not a neurologist. No, I do not understand what is happening.

I have seen several gofundme fundraisers for very serious causes. This time, it is for my family, for my cousin that was really raised next to me like a sister.

They have described your state as a “vegetative state”. Those words are blaring in my head. They are like a revving motor or a sounding horn that never lets up. Everything I am doing those words are echoing in the background, “Vegetative State”. Honestly, with all the progress in medicine they have not come up with a better fucking phrase!?

Yes, I am in denial and I am angry. I am accepting it from afar. I am over 13 hours apart from you; I have not seen you, how can it possibly sink in? I have my moments of breaking down, of crying, of hurting, however I pull it together real quick. I put it right back together into pieces of anger and tension.