Some Truths Do Not Comfort Me

The new year has started off the way it ended = a mass killing by a dysfunctional person with mental problems = I'm not sure I buy that excuse anymore, because it sounds like an excuse to me = I've been mentally ill for 71 years and I never took it out on anyone like that.

And hear come the hot-air politicians and the do-gooders who can sum up their life in an 140-word Twitter posting and tell you how the killings should stop and here come the talkers from behind the anonymity of their computer screen telling you what you should do about these killings.

I've had my moments when I've stepped over the line and I do regret that = that truth is painful to me, but I've never taken it to the "point of no return".

Some truths do not comfort me . . .

The fact of the matter is this = I own my mentality, my sexuality, my illnesses, my blindness, my truths, my decisions = not a pleasant scenario, by any means, but it is what it is.

And those truths do not comfort me, but knowing what the stakes are in my life does give me a certain peace of mind, to have a name attached to my problems.

Wish it could be better for me, but it is not, it is what it is.

There has always been a darkness surrounding me and as much as I try to push it away, it always come back to overshadow my daily life. My mind feels like it is in free-fall, spinning around in a loop of things that don't make any sense. I wish that would go away, but like I said, it is what it is.

For the most part, my close friends understand me, but most of my relatives dismiss my feelings, my emotions, my state of affairs, my illnesses, me as a human being = I've always been there for them when they wanted to talk, but when I talk to them, they tell me a story that is meant to "top" mine in dramatic sequences. No validation for me.

I recently received my hospital bill from July from Morehead Hospital and it spelled out in no uncertain terms how close to dying I was that Saturday night, July 9th. When I told my sister this today, she proceeded to tell me the story of her son who had just had a heart attack (and I wish him well, don't get me wrong), but she kept emphasizing the fact that he "barely got there" in time to the hospital and he was one "lucky" individual. I don't doubt that, he was lucky he survived, but I don't like the comparison she is always making between me and one of her kids, because when they were little and I was around them, they would call me names to my face, but when my brother died in October 2011, all her kids told me I had to be the strong one and be there for her if she needed me.

Okay, I heard that, but when is it my turn?

That truth does not comfort me . . .

The truth of the matter is . . . I don't know which end is up or where I'm going sometimes, but it works itself out, in its own bizarre way, it works itself out and a momentary peace of mind comes over me, but doesn't last. Wish it would last for a while, but it does not. 

I struggle, I breathe, I live, I count to 10, I have a taboo cup of coffee, I work the New York Times Crossword in ink, I have my favorite Subway sandwich, I struggle, I breathe, I live another day, hoping God is there to catch me if I stumble and fall, waiting for the spinning room to catch up with me, ride a rollercoaster, cry uncontrollably = that's the way I have to live my life = those truths don't comfort me, but they are mine, I own them.

99% imagination and 1% truth

. . . and yes, I post messages on Facebook and put them there to be read by people who understand the difference between the truth and delusion.

Am I a hypocrite = I don't know, but I do know the difference between delusion and the truth. Don't let my mental illness fool you = I see things very clearly, too clearly sometimes = I can tell when someone is lying and making stuff up = you know, the ones who post sayings that are often full of typos and "daring you to share it and post it"! Do you believe in God = click on "yes" if you do.

OMG!

I've posted a lot of truths abut myself over the years, but some I will keep to myself and carry with me until the end.

Those truths do not comfort me =

I don't overlook my faults, I share them.

This is one truth that does not comfort me = but one of these days, I must accept it = me and my last baby, keeping each other company until the end =

Because I know if I live to see that day when my last baby is gone, 

the next heart break will be my last.

BabyDoo, gentle soul, loving friend, save all of us a place.