peacefrog, peach and cherry/jordgubbe

 

Dictionary, diary

There are these moments in the midst of crisis when sometimes the mind wanders off—only after that breaking point of the mind when there has been no relief from the crisis — it’s had enough, I guess, so it takes a holiday without any consultation to rational; it occurred during my assault I recall; I thought of others going about as though everything was all right —and you wonder how they can but…. that is life and the world is big —yes it has happened to me time and again ….fear is so exhausting and then there you are in a mental Disneyland as the shit goes down ….the mind is weird ….and it occurred to me the other day that it seems so silly —as far as the drama of events in my own life ….so it occurred to me that, my life—now has come to feel as though the creator of my life has lost the plot, so is just making up all sorts of shit just to ….what? I really don’t know ….watch that boat adrift as the bombs go off and spin on that mad tea cup ride 

more thoughts of the legend; reflections

 

I always knew there was something “emotionally” wrong with my mother.

unhinged. 

I knew her differently than others in my family. Looking back now, I understand why her bond with me was bittersweet. I looked like the man she loved and lost and I was the daily reminder that she was marked in her husband’s eyes as his whore to abuse behind closed doors.

I watched from the crack of my mother’s closet door. I watched scenes that marked ….into the eggshell of my mind….I saw that vile little evil man 

but also, I saw her manic highs

I saw her lows

her lows made her cruel ….usually most to me

but I understood

I was willing to be thst for her

I listened 

I told her how much I adored her

I forgave her everything 

She was not diagnosed manic depressive

it was a secret that I saw but she hid well…. but she was quite mad…. quite mad…. and with a husband prone to violent behavior to members of his household—the exception the molesting daughter of his blood and sickness; behind closed doors were two plus one lunatics we all lived …. in that yellow house 

I reacted to her mood swings. I bore the swings. I was depressed when she hurt my feelings with her shunning and spiteful words…. that was why the self harm began, you see; her rejection made me wish to die when she shut me out and would ignore me for days; weeks…. And later years ….why do females in my family hurt me so ….the men not as much, just the one—my personal Hitler 

I had been misdiagnosed years ago for clinical depression —they were wrong. I just needed to heal. But some things you don’t heal from. It is up to the individual to figure out how to survive and build their armor and maybe one day triumph 

It is not depression when you hurt or grieve. Those emotions are correct to feel. They should be experienced, not masked by chemicals society enforces 

we should accept differences of others ….accept and appreciate their unique perspectives 

How boring if everything was straight up and down 

 https://youtu.be/qanqpSHoTv0

e.d., and that piece of me does break and disintegrate when I realize with that kind of grief —there is no going back once the jab has gone too deep. it could have; had it been retracted at the time but it was let 

pour toi; grenouille de paix 2

 

Electra’s dictionary; a voice to be heard; Beth pwy yw beth a phryd

 

Electra, 

this morning’s dreams mix with real everyday incidents. So, I relive the scene later when 

Sunny calls out in alarm—in painful, physical urgency and then I recall —oh, I knew this would happen; we know how it goes 

later ….

—here I stop to reflect upon how strange some things shift and alters things —of people and—of the importance of some things…. such things like a nearby neighbor who is moving away, so suddenly my presence to Sunny here becomes more required ….and think about how that fits in with what Stina is asking me to do…. I mean, if what she said is true —it makes me wonder how it is that he suddenly appeared on that road to rescue me from the last stalker I just had to escape from 

But…. my brain gets so muddled over this double double triple agent spy stuff, so  instead, my thoughts choose to turn to write instead about my  ‘Persephone’…. and how that heavy weight which had pressed so hard upon my heart that I could not ever inhale all the way ….the adjustment to lightness with full lungs now alters my perceptive view through the kaleidoscope that I see looking at me in the mirror 

And even Bran ….he calls me again today ….he says he doesn’t like,

“that nobody cares if you’re alive? Really Beth?”

“Well…. I’m working for Sunny, he’d start to wonder if he didn’t see me for a few days….”

“Honestly Beth….” he stops to edit his thoughts; I hear his mind shifting the course, “I was surprised about—your ‘Persephone’” Bran says 

“Oh….”

“I remember how close you were so….but you are talking again?”

“It’s ….been a long several years,” I say and sit down, as I have been pacing 

“So, how is that going?” he asks

“You know…. if someone wanted to see in actual life ~inheritance over environment~ study —she and I are living proof that—as much as they tried to turn her into one of them and not be like her mother….it failed. Even her sexual identity label is like her mom’s but her generation are comfortably out.”

“Hmm, I never doubted your attraction to me, Beth—did you?”Bran asks me

“To you? Of course not, but you are the exception —you’re deep —and sensitive—and….you’re —nurturing….”

“I’m nurturing? I don’t think Clare would agree,” he says and then he says, “well….you always brought that out in me, you have that way—it makes men want to protect you—“

“Protect me-!?”

“—take care of you,” he amends

“What!?—why? I don’t need that from anyone!” I feel defensive, “I can take care of myself!”

And at this moment I get a text from Stina:

<have you called Dr. Evans office yet?>

I ignore her message and walk to the window to watch a herd of deer playing in the near field. Two with massive antlers stop to look directly at me from the field as I listen to …..Bran’s lilting voice that ….throws its sheepish warm coat from across the sea…. and for a split moment in time ….I am perched in an alternate time ~Beth pwy yw beth a phryd~

“Well….” he concedes but he says, “to your credit, I don’t blame you for all that armor you wear—I think if anyone deserved to hate men for everything that happened to you, I wouldn’t have blamed you for completely turning off men. I really couldn’t blame you, I would have had I been you,” he says

“Yes—well—but the alternative wasn’t much better so—there is a fine line within that gauge of yin-yang on the dial between male and female ….and I gave up fine tuning my definition and —realize ….it’s more to my liking avoiding most humans altogether —unless they prove they have something worth my time to interact with —on any level.”

“And where do I fit in?” he asks 

“….you never had to doubt….but there is only one of you, isn’t there? And ….you disappeared. And…. you’re an artist so…. that is under the umbrella of my orientation—oh! Bran, I have to go—” I say when from downstairs I hear my name being called

“Beth—don’t hang up—wait, ….can I call you again?”

I hesitate

He says,

“I can’t not have you in my life….it’s so good to hear your voice.”