Rigorously laying wide-awake at four in the morning on what seems like a mundane night of trying to fall asleep in the midst of the shadow figures dancing upon the walls created from the muted TV and what I call "night dreaming" I had a brilliant thought... People should read what I have to say, they will want to read my extraordinary thoughts and happenings. Amidst my night dreaming (My equivalent to daydreaming since I hardly sleep and it usually occurs when there is no daylight so why would I call it daydreaming, right!) and my mind blowing through everything it can think of to keep me occupied, it came like a bolt of lightening. BbAaMm! You should also know when things hit me like a strike of brilliance, it hardly ever is. I have blogged before, but never about anything, that other's could possibly understand or relate to so I started just using it to keep track without a paper trail of my writings. I hope to widen people's perspectives on things, maybe help other's understand where I come from physically and mentally because in my short twenty-seven years I have come to realize I do not fit into what our society has deemed normal or righteous. I have and still fight the stigmas set forth and I hope that some way some how, to break down the barriers. If not hell's bells, at least I have the blog to have vent sessions and get out what I have to say. Therefore, without further ado I shall explain myself in a deeper perspective to help you understand where I come from and why I will be talking about what I will in the future and why I have such passionate beliefs and blahbitty blah.
My life went through a major overhaul ten years ago, everyday since then a little part of me has become lost, and I cannot seem to put the puzzle back together no matter how hard I try. I found out through family and personal happenings that I had been lied to my entire life and the man I knew and called Dad was nothing but a facade when I was seventeen years old. Or so I thought, because at the time I was immature and naive and did not see the blessing of someone wanting me so much. He has never stopped being by Dad not for one second of my entire twenty-seven years, but my childhood was not one I would be happy to reiterate and a part of me felt neglected at that moment and still does to a certain extent. Well back to the present Mr. Dangerfield... I still have not put closure to that issue nor do I know how to, which is a major character flaw in a sea of something else's. It seems with every hurdle I am face to face with I am fading out of touch, what happened to the wise old saying what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger? I am not dead yet, but I am not the Hulk either! So back to the horror movie, I call my past... When I was only eight years old I was diagnosed with Psoriasis and through my tireless lifelong efforts to cure the incurable, I ultimately damaged myself. Three years ago, I began a journey to happiness. I started multiple medication options in my quest for normalcy. One after another and now, I am reaping the backfire. To live in someone else skin, oh the joy. In quotation of one crazy friend to another and from a classic movie sitting atop of my list of awesomeness, "It rubs lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again." I remember shopping with my mom once as a teenager and trying on shoes in the local store and a young child walked up, gave me the most gruesome look, and ran away. That day I vowed it would not win, but in the end, it has. I have dealt with so many of these incidents and it never hurts less, but it does fuel my passion for people to be intelligent. Ignorance on more occasions than I care to remember has placed people in a narrow escape for a can of whoop ass opening. In less than a lifetime, I somehow found Alice, sliced her throat, jumped down the rabbit hole headfirst, drugged the white rabbit, and now there is no one to ask for help or to be the hero in my story and I am left dealing with the inevitable concussion and brain damage drinking tea with the Mad Hatter forever more. Approximately two and a half years ago, I was dealt a double whammy. After a lifelong battle of diet after crash diet and watching the types of food I ate, but still being a "plus size" figure I found out it was pointless I had diabetes. It runs in my family and maybe it was unavoidable, but it consumed me. At that point, in my life, I was at my heaviest and I made a conscious decision I would not be passive anymore. I would fight this and I did, I drastically changed my eating lifestyle and lost almost a hundred pounds. The diabetes was controlled by diet and lifestyle alone, I vowed I would not take medication the entirety of my life and I would never let it get to the point of my Mother or my Aunt's, where I survive on insulin. This worked until a few months ago when I realized it was no longer working. I have not drastically changed my eating habits and I was still losing weight, so why the hell is this bastard of a disease still knocking at my door? I am still in utter disgust with myself for not working harder, for letting it win me over again, and for having to medicate myself two to three times a day. Therefore, the war lives on and these are only a few of the icebergs I have run into. In the midst of everything else, I finally got the courage to be more open about what was going on with me in my roller coaster of a life, ever-changing mind, and erratic actions. I sought help and guidance, which led to a Bipolar Disorder diagnosis. I am still not completely satisfied with this conclusion, but after three doctors and countless events, I deal. Along the journey of my life I have isolated myself like the Cullen's, contaminated mindsets of other 's and my own, perfectly disintegrated persona's of myself and other's like me, eradicated everything and everyone in touching distance like the plaque all while never being completely open. I am a very open, honest, blunt, sarcastic, sometimes rude, publicly moral person, but behind that curtain lurks the darkness of hell. Be it due to the chemical imbalance running rampant in my head, or that I am just a loathsome insolent. I grew up as the humorous child with the plastic smile glued tightly on, only in secluded solace letting it melt off like butter on a hot day. As I got older I slowly gave up caring or making my outward persona and appearance the main priority, but along the way I also realized behind that mask laid a hallow shell and that I do not know what caring, love, or happiness actually feel like. It is a daily battle to fight off the evils I call my thoughts and I am tired of their mere presence. Based on my experiences and the position in which I was brought up, I built walls up my entire life guarding myself. I held strong to the bricks like cement foundation. I was never completely cold to the touch but frostbite was not far off in the distance. Someone finally penetrated through brick by brick until the whole damn Great Wall of China collapsed, like termites to a rotting tree. My initial reaction was to run like Michael Myers had come to town, but how could I run when I allowed this to happen... and what if it happened for a reason? In the end through all the epic battles, my entire life crumbled leaving me with no solid ground to grasp. So what do you do when present reality is no longer a friend, but reverie in a state of road kill? What do you do when the heart that never felt, feels and you are fighting your own self to the finish line of happiness? My life is full of rhetorical, unanswerable, and not easily answered questions. I welcome you to my world where nothing is ever as it seems where I am constantly standing on the soapbox trying to be recognized, accepted, and understood fully over the inadequate crowd. This battlefield is full of land mines and I am an unwelcome guest in my own body that often self-destructs. So grab a straight jacket, swallow your pills, and open your mind because I am going to blog my way back to habitable.
My life went through a major overhaul ten years ago, everyday since then a little part of me has become lost, and I cannot seem to put the puzzle back together no matter how hard I try. I found out through family and personal happenings that I had been lied to my entire life and the man I knew and called Dad was nothing but a facade when I was seventeen years old. Or so I thought, because at the time I was immature and naive and did not see the blessing of someone wanting me so much. He has never stopped being by Dad not for one second of my entire twenty-seven years, but my childhood was not one I would be happy to reiterate and a part of me felt neglected at that moment and still does to a certain extent. Well back to the present Mr. Dangerfield... I still have not put closure to that issue nor do I know how to, which is a major character flaw in a sea of something else's. It seems with every hurdle I am face to face with I am fading out of touch, what happened to the wise old saying what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger? I am not dead yet, but I am not the Hulk either! So back to the horror movie, I call my past... When I was only eight years old I was diagnosed with Psoriasis and through my tireless lifelong efforts to cure the incurable, I ultimately damaged myself. Three years ago, I began a journey to happiness. I started multiple medication options in my quest for normalcy. One after another and now, I am reaping the backfire. To live in someone else skin, oh the joy. In quotation of one crazy friend to another and from a classic movie sitting atop of my list of awesomeness, "It rubs lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again." I remember shopping with my mom once as a teenager and trying on shoes in the local store and a young child walked up, gave me the most gruesome look, and ran away. That day I vowed it would not win, but in the end, it has. I have dealt with so many of these incidents and it never hurts less, but it does fuel my passion for people to be intelligent. Ignorance on more occasions than I care to remember has placed people in a narrow escape for a can of whoop ass opening. In less than a lifetime, I somehow found Alice, sliced her throat, jumped down the rabbit hole headfirst, drugged the white rabbit, and now there is no one to ask for help or to be the hero in my story and I am left dealing with the inevitable concussion and brain damage drinking tea with the Mad Hatter forever more. Approximately two and a half years ago, I was dealt a double whammy. After a lifelong battle of diet after crash diet and watching the types of food I ate, but still being a "plus size" figure I found out it was pointless I had diabetes. It runs in my family and maybe it was unavoidable, but it consumed me. At that point, in my life, I was at my heaviest and I made a conscious decision I would not be passive anymore. I would fight this and I did, I drastically changed my eating lifestyle and lost almost a hundred pounds. The diabetes was controlled by diet and lifestyle alone, I vowed I would not take medication the entirety of my life and I would never let it get to the point of my Mother or my Aunt's, where I survive on insulin. This worked until a few months ago when I realized it was no longer working. I have not drastically changed my eating habits and I was still losing weight, so why the hell is this bastard of a disease still knocking at my door? I am still in utter disgust with myself for not working harder, for letting it win me over again, and for having to medicate myself two to three times a day. Therefore, the war lives on and these are only a few of the icebergs I have run into. In the midst of everything else, I finally got the courage to be more open about what was going on with me in my roller coaster of a life, ever-changing mind, and erratic actions. I sought help and guidance, which led to a Bipolar Disorder diagnosis. I am still not completely satisfied with this conclusion, but after three doctors and countless events, I deal. Along the journey of my life I have isolated myself like the Cullen's, contaminated mindsets of other 's and my own, perfectly disintegrated persona's of myself and other's like me, eradicated everything and everyone in touching distance like the plaque all while never being completely open. I am a very open, honest, blunt, sarcastic, sometimes rude, publicly moral person, but behind that curtain lurks the darkness of hell. Be it due to the chemical imbalance running rampant in my head, or that I am just a loathsome insolent. I grew up as the humorous child with the plastic smile glued tightly on, only in secluded solace letting it melt off like butter on a hot day. As I got older I slowly gave up caring or making my outward persona and appearance the main priority, but along the way I also realized behind that mask laid a hallow shell and that I do not know what caring, love, or happiness actually feel like. It is a daily battle to fight off the evils I call my thoughts and I am tired of their mere presence. Based on my experiences and the position in which I was brought up, I built walls up my entire life guarding myself. I held strong to the bricks like cement foundation. I was never completely cold to the touch but frostbite was not far off in the distance. Someone finally penetrated through brick by brick until the whole damn Great Wall of China collapsed, like termites to a rotting tree. My initial reaction was to run like Michael Myers had come to town, but how could I run when I allowed this to happen... and what if it happened for a reason? In the end through all the epic battles, my entire life crumbled leaving me with no solid ground to grasp. So what do you do when present reality is no longer a friend, but reverie in a state of road kill? What do you do when the heart that never felt, feels and you are fighting your own self to the finish line of happiness? My life is full of rhetorical, unanswerable, and not easily answered questions. I welcome you to my world where nothing is ever as it seems where I am constantly standing on the soapbox trying to be recognized, accepted, and understood fully over the inadequate crowd. This battlefield is full of land mines and I am an unwelcome guest in my own body that often self-destructs. So grab a straight jacket, swallow your pills, and open your mind because I am going to blog my way back to habitable.
Chasity
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