Flash Friday 55: Sleep Pod

Sometimes hope flies away on ghostly butterfly wings, which have been crushed multiple times.

I want to fly away with hope.

To cocoon myself until it's safe to wake up

And be who I really am.

But I don't think that will ever happen.

Eveyone likes clowns.

No one likes the freak behind the mask.

 

Share your stuff here if you want. It's a writing game by a fellow by the name of G Man, and he does it every Friday.

 

Cross-posted to:

KHEL 666

Torrid Tempest

Undead in the Netherworld

 

Note:

I don't really want to come off as an asshole to people who may be "meeting" me for the first time, but the first one who tells me I "need to be on meds" needs to go jump off a cliff. I've been bipolar probably since I was 10 years old, though I wasn't diagnosed until I was 38. I don't need any armchair psychologists trying to analyze me when I'm expressing myself during what happens to be a drop on the mood disorder roller coaster, thank you very much.

To those who might have appreciated the work, sorry for the defensiveness. It's something that I've unfortunately become rather accustomed to.

 

The Tragic Story of Badfinger

The tragic story of one of my favorite classic rock bands.

Is Suicide "Selfish?"

I don't wish to create controversy on a friend's blog, and she is not the one that used the word "selfish" in regards to suicide anyway, it was a commenter who did so. So I am not going to leave a link to the blog. However, I did wish to share my thoughts on the matter.

I lost a cousin, a friend, and someone who was very special in almost a romantic way. My brother lost one of his friends. I've dealt with suicide ideation on and off throughout my life.

For those who think of suicide as "selfishness," I believe this is an erroneous idea. The pain that the person is suffering at the moment they make such a decision is indescribable. It is not for the rest of us to call them selfish. It is an erroneous decision--in most cases. But error and selfishness are two different things. 

My cousin was not a selfish person. She lived with medication resistant depression for her entire life. She was unable to endure it any more.

Of the three young men I mentioned above who committed suicide--my friend, my brother's friend, and the special fellow I mentioned--all of them suffered from clinical depression and other issues. 

Do I wish they hadn't done it? Yes. But it is erroneous to adjudge them "selfish."

Get Well, Pam!

Pam Spaulding, the gutsy webmistress over at Pam's House Blend, a pro-GLBT equality blog, has had surgery for her fibroids. Although I am a straight, natal female, Pam's is a favorite stop. I am a full believer in equality and an end of prejudice towards gay/bisexual and transgendered people. I don't even understand why a there is a question whether or not homosexuals have a right to marry the person they love. I would not care if the person in the stall next to me in the ladies' room was born male but had surgery to transition to female because they had always felt as if they were in the wrong body. I have real issues that concern me. Anyone who is getting bent out of shape about Adam and Steve or Eve and Lilith marrying, or whether Susan, who is in the womens' changing room with them was born Solomon (or Solomon was born Susan) really needs to take a look at their motives. Why would such a thing even begin to concern you?

Pam and I do have something in common. We're both female, obviously. We both suffer from reproductive system issues. I'm not sure if I have fibriods because I haven't been to a gynecologist in more than 20 years. I do know that I have endometriosis. I have always had very heavy periods, which is attributable in part to hypothyroidism. Currently I have had my period for going on three weeks. I attribute this to being peri-menopausal, but if it goes on for much longer I suppose I'll be forced to go to the doctor--something that I don't have the time or money for.

Pam and I also both have fibromyalgia. Mine is fairly mild, but if I get overly tired it feels like I've been run over by a truck. The tiredness leads to more tiredness and to depression. A misunderstood disease, there are still those who believe that its "not a real problem." Believe it or not, some still think that bipolar disorder isn't a real disease either. I would invite them to walk a mile in our shoes and then judge.

One day, thanks to people like Pam, more and more people will become educated about the fact that PEOPLE ARE PEOPLE! It doesn't matter what their sexual orientation or whether they remain the gender that they were born. And mental illness, while a real concern, does not make a person any less deserving of love and respect. Let's treat each other with compassion. It is the one gift that we all can--and should--give to each other.

Letting It All Hang Out

Sorry to whine. I'm having rather a lonely day. I have no actual friends and I need one so much. I just feel so very alone. I keep myself hidden behind a facade, but eventually the pain pushes my true, horrible, reject self to the surface. I will regret speaking of it, I always do. But at the moment, I must speak.

All of my foul, accursed life I have had psychic experiences. Even as a young child I dreamed of other lives--horrible lives. Lives wherein there were bodies lying about, bloated, with flies crawling out of them. I have always hated flies. I hate insects. There is no logical reason for this except that I dreamed of them when I was very small. I saw the ghosts of the little animals who died when I was a child. I communed with them. I could feel the pain of living things including other people. Foul human race, so devoid of compassion! I could also feel the hate and apathy of the majority of people. They think themselves so much superior to others, especially to those like me who feel even though sometimes I just don't want to feel or know or see any more. I just want it to all go away.

As I grew older I realized that this ability extended to the ability of feeling the emotions of those who no longer have a body. I would talk to these spirits. I thought that I would find a community of understanding souls among other mediums. But it was not to be. Even other psychics tend to belittle the experiences I have had. I have been told by some that it is not the true soul that I am accessing, but only the shell.  I have been told by others that I am contacting demons and need to take steps to rid myself of them. I sense emotions through pictures, which is usually how I make the first contact. Most of these spirits wish nothing of me. They only wish to say hello and acknowledge that yes, I have contacted them. But my doubts have made it so I have not even the ability to do that any more. I never had living people care about me much. Now I do not have even the spirits. This is what I get for reaching out to others!

Those among the rational set claim that these experiences are only an extension of my mental condition. Yes, I have a mood disorder, but my ability to sense the emotions of others (including the departed) is outside of that. Not everyone with a mental illness is psychotic. I just get so tired of being told that I'm wrong about everything.

I should like to go and be among the ghosts. They seem to be the only ones that ever understood at all. 

I hurt, really, really badly. I do not want to be told I'm wrong for hurting. I do not want to be told I'm wrong for feeling. I do not want to be yelled at and belittled for not trusting, for fearing that I am being fucked over yet one more time, as it has happened so often. Has nobody any compassion? Can nobody extend a hand of friendship to one who is very different, yet is the same in the sense that they only wish a friend who could understand and not belittle them.

I am so very sorry for what I am. Sorry I was born into the wrong world. Sorry I exist at all. I am sorry that I hurt and that I feel and that I sense what I sense and experience what I experience. I am sorry that I am not really a Barbie doll. I am sorry that my experiences don't jibe with what is generally taught regarding parapsychology. Fuck all, I'm just plain sorry. About every bit of it. About everything.

I suppose it is my fate to go through life friendless. I keep telling myself I best just get used to it. But somehow I never do.