Monday, June 19, 2017
So, apparently, I was hacked. Multiple accounts. My site, my Facebook, my Twitter and Tumblr…and my Skype.
So, my deepest apologies to any of you who received weird links from me, and scamming stuff. I truly had no idea.
Just goes to show that no matter how creative you get with passwords, someone will get around it.
And at first, I wasn’t able to get around it. I had to enlist help.
However, hopefully, everything is sorted, and my precious site and my precious readers are safe from any malicious links or people pretending to be me.
I am deeply sorry to you all.
Enjoy the piece of smut a recently posted. Some people will accept that as currency. LOL.
Love you all!!!
Tara stopped scrubbing and smoothed over the floor with a soft rag, bringing the floor to shine. She moved around on her hands and knees before coming to a pair of feet. She followed the feet up the attached pair of legs and up to Jacobs’ face. “Hello.” She said, smiling. She moved to stand, putting her cleaning items away. “Is there something I can get for you?” She asked him.
“Come with me…” he said, taking her hand in his. He led her to his room and closed the door behind them.
She followed without protest, wondering what he was up to. But then, she was glad for this opportunity. They hadn’t really spent any time alone in a few evenings.
Jacob cupped her face between his hands and pressed his lips to hers. It was a deep, heated kiss; his tongue trailing her lips and her own slick muscle.
Tara was taken by surprise but soon melted into the kiss. She returned it with her own passion, her arms moving to encircle his shoulders and neck. She let out a pleased hum through the kiss, letting him know it was certainly to her liking.
He pressed her against the door, his hands busy with hiking her dress up past her hips. Jacob was hot and virile; he could feel his blood boil. He hooked his fingers around her panties and pulled them down, lifting her body to help her remove them completely.
Tara was lost in the passion. It had seemingly come out of nowhere. Her mind raced, not knowing whether to stop him or not. She didn’t want to, but she was nervous. But the excitement overrode the nervousness. She clung to him, waiting for him to take his next actions, preparing herself for whatever he may do.
The man placed her upon the bed and trailed his kisses along her neck and throat, sucking and nipping at her flesh. He unzipped his trousers and reached between her thighs, to finger her tight cunt, coaxing her sweet honey to seep from the hive.
Tara became bold herself, unbuttoned his shirt, sliding her hands inside to trail over his flesh, loving the feel of him. His attention to her neck and throat made her feel hot all over, and beneath her dress and slip, she could feel her nipples harden, brushing against the fabric. He was moving so fast. But it felt so good. She could feel the wetness coming away on his fingers from between her thighs.
His lips soon found hers once again. He felt his erection brush against her smooth inner thigh. He was hard–incredibly so–and she was ready. Jacob shifted above her as his hand guided his cock between her welcoming nether lips. He broke the kiss to brush her delicate chin and jawline with his lips, as his free hand ran across her clothed breast.
“Tara,” he whispered, running his fingers through her hair. Jacob clenched his jaw as he entered her. She was tight, almost too tight. He gave a few hard thrusts until he was in entirely. It was a snug fit, but not unpleasant. He kissed her neck, feeling himself throb within her.
Tara hissed in pain. She still clung to him, not wanting him to stop. When he was all the way in, he stretched and pulled at her insides, but her body conformed to him, making room for his size, wrapping around him snuggly as the pain gave way bit by bit to the lovely pleasure to be had. Tara rolled her head to the side, letting out a breath she was holding, a small sound of pleasure then leaving her. She gave a roll of her hips and found it pleasing.
Jacob instinctively brought his hips to meet hers. He was unable to hold back. He reached up to run his fingers through her hair, his lips sealing hers with a kiss as he proceeded to drive himself into her soft, warm depths. His thrusts were hard, sharp, but steady and consistent. He was a hungry animal, wanting more of what the young woman had to offer.
Tara returned his kiss, soft sounds of pleasure escaping her into his mouth with every thrust he made. She met her hips to his, meeting him in movement, grinding her little bud against him, her body excited and pleased with the sensation of his thick cock moving in and out of her and the pressure and grinding against her clit. Her hands moved across the flesh of his back, down to his waist, feeling the power of his thrusts. He was filling her with pleasurable sensations, and her body was acting accordingly.
He grunted a bit and angled his hips to hit that little spot inside. That’s when he broke the kiss… His gaze was locked on her and the expression of pure bliss she had. Jacob rolled their bodies over, where she was on top and his hands squeezing her hips and thighs.
When he rolled them over, Tara began to rise and fall on him, using her knees to lift her up and bring her crashing back down on him. She continued to grind herself against him, panting and make soft noises. She rested her hands on his chest, using him for balance and to help in her own thrusting. She leaned over him, kissing him, her lips trailing from his down to his jaw and neck, nibbling at his ear as her gentle breath played across his skin. She sat back up again, hands firmly planted against his chest, her lower lip bitten between her teeth as she pumped herself away on him, feeling that pleasurable tingle course through her.
Jacob gripped her ass, helping her move upon his dick. He eventually moved and placed her below him once again, a thin sheen of sweat forming.
With every thrust he continued to make, it grew more intense, until finally, her body stiffened, her inner muscles clamping around his cock, seizing up all around him before releasing into massaging waves of pleasure and bliss. Tara cried out softly, panting in her ecstasy. She continued to move under Jacob, her body wanting to ride out the pleasure and to coax him to his own release.
He held himself above her, to watch her orgasm race through her petite form. She was stunning. Jacob drove himself into her quivering depths, making his own noises of pleasure; until he finally came, his throbbing cock spilling his thick seed into her willing body. He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him yet again as he panted softly against the bed sheets.
Tara rested against him, her head on his shoulder, panting softly. She felt hot and sweaty, but oh so fulfilled. When she got her breathing under control, she moved her lips to his neck, kissing him softly, rolling her tongue across his lightly sweaty flesh, tasting the salt of him. She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, and heaved a pleased sigh against him.
Jacob rested his hands on top of her legs. He, too, was fulfilled. After a while, he reached up to stroke her head, running his fingers through her blonde locks.
Tara smiled. She loved it when he did that. She moved to kiss him, softly and sweetly. She looked over at his bedside clock. “I should be getting back into the kitchen…I still have a dinner to cook for everyone…it’ll be a little late…” She murmured. “You should take a shower, refresh yourself…”
“Mm… I should,” he said, smiling against her skin. He kissed her again before rolling out from under her. He stretched his arms above his head and looked to Tara. “I’ll see you in a bit…” He leaned over to kiss her brow before standing to venture into the washroom.
Monday, May 29, 2017
Today is the US Holiday of Memorial Day, to remember those of the military who gave their lives in the duty of their country.
Now, I am from a military family. My dad was Army, my husband was Army and my brother is currently in the Army. My daughter is about to join the Air Force.
They are all still alive. All of them have been in the war zone, however, and have seen their fellow soldiers fall.
Today is not to be all about BBQs and swimming and fun. Sure, those things can be had, but its also about remembering what has been given from all branches of the military.
Some enlist for financial reasons, some enlist for a true calling to be in the military and its way of life. Trust me, being raised and married to the military is an experience like none other.
Take a moment of the day to think about ALL the lives lost. Some of our soldiers, men and women, some barely out of their teens, have died serving in wars that we may not have really gotten involved in. (I wont bring politics into this).Its senseless death. But they should be honored for their sacrifice, for following their leaders. They gave an oath and upheld that oath to the highest degree.
Have a safe and happy day, and to those of you who have served or are currently serving, bless you all.
Love you all, my sweets!
Thursday, May 11, 2017
As promised, the second of my little character biographies, given by themselves.
Here we have Addison. It was titled Adrift.
Addison sat on the ground, her back resting against the building as she kicked her legs out in front of her, crossing her feet at the ankles. She took a flask from her jacket pocket and gave her companions of the evening a toast.
“Well, since I know all about you guys, I guess you all should know a little about me, huh?” She asked. She took another sip and settled herself into her spot in the dimly lit alley to tell her story. A small fire between them all kept the chill at bay.
“I had come into this world in 1685. I know, I know. Don’t look a day over 20, do I? Anyway, things were way different than they are now. No interwebs, tweeter or the googles. But, as they say, time brings on a lot of change. Advances.” She smiled, giving a nod and another sip of her flask. She offered it to her companions, but none took her up on her offer. They knew what she was drinking. Wasn’t their ‘style’ she supposed. She shrugged and readjusted the Katana strapped to her back.
She continued, glad, in a bit, that none wanted to share in her drink and they didn’t seem like the ‘judgey’ sort. “Yanno, we all have our hardships, and I’ve had enough for several lifetimes over. I started life as a plain old human, just like you guys, and then one night, one chance encounter changed all that.” She looked down at her hands for a moment, rubbing them on her jeans as if smoothing them.
“I became a vampire. Don’t laugh; I’m not kidding! Blood sucking, gore lovin’ vampire! I didn’t ever think they existed myself until I became one. I was so lost. No one taught me how to be a vampire. The one who bit me just left. Probably thought he killed me. Anyway…” She took a slight paused for breath and collecting her thoughts. Her thoughts were always muddled. Maybe it was all the drinking. Or maybe that’s just her. Her mind was muddled and broken.
“…Anyways…I loved it. I never dealt with the terrible transition of human to monster at all. It was as if I was born to it. And I never lamented taking lives so that I could continue to exist. Everyone was just little walking blood bags to me. Even children.” She flashed a smile, though tried to keep her face schooled in innocence. “My voodoo became more powerful, too. Granted, that got me in a spot of trouble with Baron Samedi, but that’s a story for another time. We’ll just stick with ‘I’m a damn fine Mambo’ for getting out of that one.” Addison said with a wink.
“I had come to have lovers that came and went. I never took it hard. Kind of hard to find someone when you’re looking at people wondering what their blood type is.” She snickered, pulling her long dark hair over her shoulder.
“I then stumbled over the Realm behind the veil. A world unto its own. So many species of light and dark, some living in harmony, some living in war. I had taken my time in choosing a home. I almost didn’t bother. I had spent 600 years in relative isolation, letting the wars of man entertain me. But then I found out that to get stronger, you needed people to help you along in your path.”
She let silence fall for just a few moments, sipping from her flask again as the memories danced behind her eyes. “In the Realm, I had a chance to join a collective. Mr. Brollachan opened his doors to me. Within the coven, I was taught how to bring my strength up higher, and for awhile I got stronger and stronger pretty quickly. I thrived on the challenges…but then… along the way, I had met this Slayer. He was so dreamy. There was an immediate, albeit forbidden connection.” She sparkle left her eyes in her storytelling. A solemnness came over her.
“I no longer wanted even the tiny bit of freedom I had left. I wanted to share myself with this man. I asked to leave the coven and permission was granted. Though, I went through even more trials. Events that further shaped me. My Slayer was at my side, though. With the help of an Arch Angel, I underwent a reversal of my vampirism. Terribly painful it was. I was cleansed and made whole again. Human, though immortal. A Slayer in my own right. Me and my Slayer entered into a Holy Union, committing to share our life and love with one another always. I guess I should also mention that the Arch Angel didn’t fix me right. I’m not entirely…human…I don’t think. And he is making me suffer, always. I know its hard to tell, what can I say? I’m a great actress.” Silence befell Addison once again. She looked to her listeners. She didn’t want to depress them utterly. It couldn’t be helped. It was a sad story.
She resumed. “And then my Slayer left to who knows where.” She flailed her arms a bit. “He left me all alone with no idea how to be human…how to be ‘normal’ again. I was so lost. Once again adrift in my isolation. It wasn’t even an isolation I was comfortable with because I didn’t know how to be what I am now, alone. That…and my heart was shattered. Never, in all my long years, have I suffered a broken heart. Its horrible and painful and …icky. He’s dead now, by the way. Don’t look at me, I didn’t kill him!” Addison said, a small pout coming to her lips as her brows furrowed.
“Rather than my complacent isolation, mine turned into rage. I let it boil inside. Always swallowing it back down when it bubbled up like bile in my throat.” She said, her tone seething, almost a hiss.
“I decided I didn’t need to be afloat on my own during that time. I reached out to a well-known Sanctuary leader, and he accepted my request to join his crew. I thought it would help me to be immersed with others again. To mingle not just with my new crewmates, but with others I happened upon within the Realm.” She said, her face blank of expression. Her words, too, felt a little flat on her tongue.
“I found myself afloat again. Drifting. Aimless and wondering. I started to embrace that solitude once again. I wasn’t working on myself. None of my goals were being reached. No one really interacted with me at all. I latched hold of another crewmate, a young Lycan woman, but she seems to dislike me a great deal. For me, that’s just sheer entertainment within itself. Oh, and there is an Angel I talk to sometimes. I wouldn’t call us friends though. I really think people just …tolerate me.” She chuckled, letting that sadness drift away, even if for a moment. She sipped her drink, her pale blue eyes scanning the faces of her companions.
That sadness seeped its way back in. “I sit now, alone on this island within a vastly populated world. My mind teeters on what to do next. Keep striving the fight the good fight? Be a good people person? Fight the good fight? Or let my isolation consume me once again…become a monster again. The vampiric life wasn’t a bad one. In all honesty, I miss it a lot. It had more freedoms, and the blood and the violence quelled something deeply broken and growling within me.” She silenced herself, looking around.
“Do you guys think I’m crazy? I think I am. I think I am …damaged goods. You know, I’m going to die alone. I pretty much guarantee it. Can you see the headlines… ‘Woman dies alone with 72 cats. Cats feast upon her corpse’. That’d be funny. Sad, but funny. I’d be one with all my cats, though, wouldn’t I?” She laughed out loud at her own humor, as dark and depressing as it may have been. She sobered then, for just a moment. “I’m just so alone. Nothing has meaning or purpose. I have no love, no friends. Well, you guys, but, come on…we aren’t that close…”
Addison looked to her drinking buddies and decided that they were either bored or just too drunk to care.
Or it may have had something to do with that fact that she had sliced all their throats an hour ago.
Hope you enjoyed!
Thursday, May 4, 2017
The following little character profile was from a short contest on one of my Role Play game sites. We were to have our characters talk about what made them who they are today…their childhood and the like. This first one is Genesis, a werewolf. We were allowed to tell their story in any format, from journal to interview with another personal, to video type diaries. I chose journal format for Genesis.
And away we go!
Genesis: All American Girl
Journal Entry 2/2017
2017 already. Hard to believe how time seems to fly in happy times, and drag in the dreadful. This is a brand new journal, by the way. I haven’t kept a journal in a few years now. Growing up I kept one religiously.
I was reading through some of them earlier, that’s what made me decide to pick it back up again. I don’t want memories to be lost, even the uglier side of life.
When looking through my really old journals, I found one that brought back all kinds of depressing memories. Most entries were about my mother. She was a slut. Okay, well, more like a wh0re, because those guys she brought home paid her in some fashion or another. I usually just locked my door and shoved pillows over my head. I have to add that I added locks to my bedroom doors in all the scummy trailers we rented when we moved here, or were kicked out of there. Those men my mom brought home…they leered at me. Perverts. All of them.
I kept myself distracted, and away from home, as much as I could. I ran track in secondary school and high school. I was honor roll, which meant I stayed in the library a lot, studying.
Sometimes when I would come home, my mother would be waiting. She’d call me names, accuse me of things, tell me how she should have aborted me when she had the chance. I should point out here, that the reason she DIDN’T abort me, is that my father was some kind of royalty in the Lycan community. My mother is pure Lycan as well. She must have figured giving this man a full blood heir, even though I’m a girl, well, she must have thought he would support her, or me. Instead, he told her to kill me, that I was a bastard pup, and never contact him again.
All American family, right?
I isolated myself a lot growing up. We moved so often, I never felt any point in making friends. I stuck to my studies. In my senior year of high school a Marine Corp recruiter contacted me. I signed right up. The day after graduation, with honors btw, I was out of there. I left my mom a couple hundred dollars that I’d saved up with a note that I was leaving, and never look for me. I was as dead to her as she was to me.
I thrived in the Marine Corp. Maybe I had an unfair advantage, being a Lycan and all, but still. I loved it. And they had found their perfect marksman. Problem was, females couldn’t really be on over-watch. I served two tours in Afghanistan, and then came back to the states. I served on the Marksmanship Team and got all kinds of awards.
By the time I made E-5 serving as an MP, people were taking notice that I wasn’t really aging. It was odd to me, because my mother looked way older than she was. I guess I should just attribute that to the lifestyle of booze and drugs she led, whereas I was all about discipline, wellness, taking care of myself.
I had a group of good friends when I was in the military. I still keep in touch with some. Some even know my secret (that I’m not…human). A group of us will meet up somewhere and have a few drinks, remember the days and nights in the desert, the thrill of live fire and explosions. However, not so many of us remember those as ‘good times’. A lot of people come back broken from war zones.
Again, I thrived in it.
Anyway, after I left the military, I traveled around. I guess I’m kind of a penny pincher, because I have plenty of money. I was bored though. I tried to think of what I could do as a career. That’s when, by chance, someone from the old military days, asked me if I could take someone out. As in, kill them. They offered me money (okay, A LOT of money), said they didn’t care how I did it, just get it done by a certain day and time and the money would be wired to me.
My first contract kill.
I took the target out from 5 buildings away. He was sitting at his desk having and drink, I pulled my little trigger and poof…red mist. The guy wobbled in his chair a little before falling face first into the desk. From my angle, well, he had no back of the head left. It gave me the warm fuzzies.
So…I started to take more clients like this. I set up overseas accounts for payments and got my name dropped here and there in all the right circles. Mercenaries get a bad wrap, but we do take out some pretty nasty people. And its not all just getting a name and killing people. Sometimes you have to hunt information, do a little tracking, grease the palms of other people. I had to get tech savvy in a hurry and start knowing and getting in good with all the right people.
I started to realize one night that while I was using my enhanced senses to pinpoint targets and the like, I wasn’t really working on those aspects of myself. The wolf in me needed more.
I was floundering in mediocrity. I couldn’t have that. The wolf must be satisfied.
I joined a crew at the urging of a friend and, well, at first things were fine and dandy, but they went downhill fast. Leadership and I didn’t agree, and me being me, blatantly said what was on my mind. I ended up leaving the crew.
I needed a pack, so to speak, to help me grow. So I didn’t waste any time in finding exactly what I needed. Azhi. Home. I have never regretted joining this crew.
I have friends, we talk. The loveliest part of it all, is I can still indulge in the hunt and make money, money, money. Yes, I’m a greedy cow.
Now, I love my home with all my heart. Only one bad occurrence ever happened here, and thats when I tried to kid myself into thinking I could have a love life. I met someone, he joined the crew and we got married. Probably the shortest marriage of all time. No…I’ve actually seen shorter.
One day, out of the blue, he packed all my stuff from our boat and placed it on the dock and handed me divorce papers. I was shocked to say the least. I didn’t know how to react. Was he expecting a big display of emotion? He didn’t get it. That’s not my style. I picked up my stuff, tucked the papers into my back pocket and walked away. He left. End of story. He’s still in the Azhi roster, but he’s been gone for years now.
I keep my heart closely guarded now. I have a crush on someone, but, well, that’s a pipe-dream I think.
The crew is growing and expanding and its exciting. Mind you, we all stick to ourselves, but, I bet at any given moment if I called someone for help, they would be there in a heartbeat, and I would do the same in return.
I can live in isolation, and I can integrate into a team just fine. I love both. It truly is the best of both worlds. It sates my desire for privacy, which I hold high, and it also gives me people to chill with, help, laugh with…its nice.
I’m a little rough around the edges. I’ve always been a tom-boy. I sometimes speak before thinking, or, rather, speak very bluntly. But hey, I give honesty, that’s got to count for something, right?
So, I’ve come a long way from those days of keeping my face planted in a book to avoid people, to having a home and friends. I’ve achieved a lot, too. Not so much in social skills, I still lack those, but my training is picking up again, I feel better about myself, and I know I can call people up from time to time for sh!ts and giggles.
Life is good.
Hope you enjoyed that! I will be posting up Addisons little bit in a day or two.
And for the record, Addisons won 2nd place and Genesis won 3rd. ^.~
Monday, April 24, 2017
I suffer from many disorders of the mind. Chemical imbalances, terrible phobias, psychotic tendencies.
Back in the day, the mid 80’s, the medical world did not have the aptitude for mental illness that it does now, so, as my mental illnesses emerged and ran rampant in my early and mid-teens, I received more disapproving looks and glares than actual help.
There is nothing more painful than a 15 year old who has been cutting for a few years to overhear a shrink tell your parents it’s a cry for ‘attention’. They also dumped the blame on my mother, who was riddled with guilt for years thinking she had done something wrong in raising me. Cutting and self-mutilation are not cries for help. There is actually a chemical reaction within the brain that cutting and pain produces, while also the act of pain itself is an indicator that you can indeed feel, and it feels good.
One of my suicide attempts at 16 landed me in the hospital for a good while. Do you know what the therapy consisted of? The doctors yelling at me and threatening me to straighten up and fly right and quit being a ‘brat’. This same mentality also deems suicide as ‘selfish’. Suicide is not a selfish action. If someone commits suicide, it was not for selfish reasons or to hurt those who cared for them. It is a release from all that is twisted and broken on the inside.
To this day, one of my nearest and dearest tries to argue that I am selfish for even entertaining suicidal thoughts. It hurts when you can’t change a stigma. However, I am honest in my feelings when asked.
I wear many scars of my cutting. I’ve hand many trips to the ER because I let things get out of my control. My best friend gets sad when she looks at my scars. She, however, does not lecture. She empathizes the best she can. Most of my friends do. I don’t have many friends, really, a bare handful that I will sit down with face to face. I like my friends to be pen pals or online friends due to my own quirks that society doesn’t deem acceptable.
I had a complete nervous breakdown in 2004. With that mental collapse came acute agoraphobia. I stayed inside, rarely even leaving the bedroom. I had my nest there…all my needed things. Computer, books and all my comforts.
Getting me to leave the house for something important, such as a doctor’s appointment, when I finally gave in to see one, took nearly a month to plan. Part of agoraphobia and social anxiety is ‘mapping your route’. In my ‘mapping’ I refused left hand turns. I know this sounds so illogical, but this is simply one instance of how my mind works and copes with things.
Through therapy and medicine, my agoraphobia is more under control. I mean, look…I am teaching classes at the local library. I’ve been to Arizona and New Mexico several times to see my best friend. Yes, I am medicated throughout the journey, but the point is…I am leaving my comfort zone.
Speaking of ‘comfort zones’, I have carefully and painstakingly crafted my own personal room within my house. It was once the garage, but the original owners turned it into a sunken den sort of thing. It’s very big. I could put a bed in here if not for all my bookcases and swords and general (very odd) toys. Everything has its place. When anyone else comes in here and moves something, it irritates me to no end. Others may see this room as just an office, but to me it is so much more. This is my haven. And when I say I don’t spend any time in any other place in the house, I am being completely honest. I recently purchased a new living room suit with the intent of spending more time in the living room enjoying movies and whatnot with the family. It’s been two months now, that has yet to happen.
Obviously I am getting better at social situations, so long as they are controlled, like the classes I teach at the library. Though, don’t call me up and say ‘how about I introduce you to some of my friends and we go out for dinner?’ That would be a no. I have one close friend here locally that I will meet up with for coffee, or go to our favorite lunch spot. Sometimes with nothing more than a few hours’ notice. That’s a huge step for me. An accomplishment.
A large part of going out west to see my best friend and going down to Dothan to meet with my other close friend is that they empathize. They have taken the time to know me and understand me, and would never ask anything of me that would tax my limits. These people are rare and very much loved by me. They ask questions sometimes, to better understand things, and that’s good! It shows me they want to know the limits and they are looking out for my comfort levels.
One thing I am not in control of, despite the heavy medications, is my bipolar disorder. When I am in a manic high, well…its best to lock me in a room with no sharp objects and let me talk a lot, because I tend to get very chatty and animated. When I am in a down, you will be lucky to get me out of my room. I tend not to take care of myself as well. No sleep, no food, I neglect personal hygiene to a point. I am just utterly sad and feel so very alone. It’s painful.
When my bipolar disorder gets out of whack, so does my schizophrenia. I hear things. Sometimes just awful things. I used to see things a lot, but not so much anymore. I may see a flutter or shadow from my peripheral vision. Hearing the voices though…that’s something I can definitely do without. My meds usually keep me on a pretty even keel, and when I do slide up or down, it’s not as terribly drastic as before the meds.
I also have severe depression with psychotic tendencies. Pretty self-explanatory.
I feel things very deeply sometimes. It really depends on what it is. I have little empathy for the population at large. However, don’t ever let me see animal abuse.
Most of the time, I take criticism very well. I mean, you have to when you are a writer or artist. You are under scrutiny. I’ve tried to take all my reviews that were less than favorable as learning experiences.
However, someone in a game I play said my writing was ‘underwhelming’. I have not written anything on that site since. I can’t bring myself to do it. I feel ashamed. I feel as if the whole community on that site is sitting back looking at everything I’ve ever written there (we’re talking 15 years of stories) and just grimacing as they read my words. It’s like a wound that just won’t close…it keeps bleeding and bleeding…and it only took one person to inflict it and drive me away.
As with most people that are on a lot of medications, when I am feeling good and happy, I tend to think I don’t need the meds. Huge mistake. I will admit, when I have a writing piece that needs to be done, or, say, NaNoWriMo is here, I will only take half doses of my bipolar meds, because yes, they honestly make me feel a little zombie-like. I am a very doped up person. In this little cheat time when I half my daily dose, it takes maybe a week before I start sliding up or down. In cases of an event like NaNoWriMo it is pretty solid that I will slip into a manic high.
I have admitted this all to my psychiatrist, and now every three months he orders blood work to check my Depakote serum levels. Damn it…he makes it hard to cheat!!
Another little thing I learned is to come up with tales of how I got hurt and need stitches. I used to be honest with the ER. Then my record made them stricter with me. They put me in a room to be stitched up, but they take my shoes, keys, purse, phone and even my water! So, the last time I did go to the ER, I had a wild tale as of how something sliced my arm.
I don’t know why I still cut. Sometimes, the thought just comes into my head and before I know it, I’m sitting there with a bloody rag and a feeling of calm. A serene calm. Other times, when I am manic, it seems to be a focal point for me, because my brain can’t seem to grasp hold of any one thing for more than a moment.
Are mental illnesses curable? No, I don’t think so. They are treatable, however. It takes a while. I’ve been trying and changing medications over the course of the last…almost 15 years or so. Hell, I was just changed to a new anti-depressant last month. It’s working, too! My Depakote has to be adjusted a lot though, it seems.
I think I am trying to make a point with this post…
If you know someone who seems like their struggling, try to help them. I know insurance and the cost of everything makes it very hard for people to get the treatment they need and the meds. Having good friends makes a lot of difference, too. Be a support system. If you suspect someone is hurting themselves, do not admonish them for it. Try to talk to them. Get to the heart of it. I have 4 people right at this very moment, at 3am, that I could call and they would not be grumpy or grouchy that I called them and woke them up. They would talk to me, ease me, their words would be meaningful and gentle and encouraging for me not to hurt myself. They would be there even if I just needed to cry. And I hate crying.
Mental illness is not a fad. Yes, I know there are people out there who claim to have illnesses that they don’t for the attention or benefits, but not everyone. In this day and age, depression is on the rise. When people do seek help, you aren’t just prescribed something and everything turns out fine and dandy. My first round of meds sent me so far out of control it was scary. A lot of the treatment is trial and error until you find something that fits with your body and brains chemical disposition.
Well, I’ve just rambled on, haven’t I?
In addition to the brain, my body is currently out of sorts as well. I took a trip to my family practice doc on Monday for a chest cold. I have COPD, so I don’t play when it comes to chest colds. Turns out I have myself a case of bronchitis. Antibiotics and cough syrup with codeine in it and I am still feeling like poo two days later. I get hot and then cold, I can’t sleep.
To top all that off, its pollen season here in the good old south. Everything outside is covered in a layer of yellow pollen. Allergies Ahoy!!! And with the pollen and nice temps, come all the bugs of the South. Ew.
The kittehs are all doing great. The kitten is growing well, though I think he is stunted from his time being lost and alone and eating nothing but bugs and stuff until my best friend found him.
Since cats are cats, and not all of mine get along, I can’t get a nice group photo. So, I think this weekend I will enlist the help of the daughter in setting up a nice background and sitting each cat up for a photo. Try to make it look all professional. Cyd and Siefer would sit together, and BaxterMarie would sit with Jeff. Any of the cats would sit with Jeff…he’s cool with everyone. However, little Spencer thinks it’s always playtime, so that’s going to be a challenge. And Quinny won’t sit still with anyone. Wow…this is starting to sound like a task…lol.
It has been almost 30 days since my last blog entry. For that, I am sorry. I lose readership and that’s sad, and totally my fault.
I have thought long and hard about even writing on this particular subject. It’s filled my mind every day, while I play with the cats, rearrange my office for the millionth time, read, write and put together my new computer. Oh, yes…new computer. Thank the stars above that I am super paranoid about losing my documents, programs, pictures and music. Everything is backed up on both Dropbox and an external hard drive…I didn’t lose a thing. And the new PC is awesome.
I’ll close this up by encouraging you to think things over, maybe open up some discussion in the comments.
I’m going to strive harder to not let 30 days pass without an entry again. It’s time to share some stories!
Tuesday, March 28, 2017
As you can see, the kitten, Spencer, is getting bigger. He is a mighty terror. No toes are safe. He is still small for his age, malnutrition of being seperated from his feral mother and colony so little stunting his growth. He did get that happy trip to the vet to get his man parts …snipped.
In other news, my little sisters biopsy came back positive, so now the family is pooling our resources to send what money we can for treatment.
I had a shrink appointment earlier this week that left me asking myself ‘will I ever be free from all of this’, meaning mental illness. The answer is no. No one really ‘recovers’ from mental illness.
I am also very sick right now. I had to go to the doctor yesterday for x-rays and a breathing treatment. I have bronchitis. I got myself some antibiotics and cough syrup with codiene. Cant beat that. Still feel sick, but groovy at the same time.
I have not gotten a lot of writing done lately. Nope. I found something new to waste my time on. The ground level of a new game. Beta testing and bugs. Its entertaining. Irritation in some instances, but entertaining none the less.
So thats my update for now. I know its a little pitiful, but its sort of reflecting how I feel at the moment. To all those of you I owe snail mail letters to, dont lose hope, I have things underway for those!