Whether it's logical or illogical; I feel as if all the joy is being sucked out of me; like a vacuum cleaner sucks up dirt.

Perhaps I feel like dirt; under peoples feet; under my family's feet; especially under my husband's feet.  I hate myself right now for allowing myself to be used, abused, disrespected; ordered; and not stopping this behavior...but allowing it because I feel that I deserve it.

From my earliest memories; I remember being told by my parents how different I was from the rest of the family.  At first I didn't take it as anything wrong; but "different"; like apples are different from bananas.  It was only when I began to express myself with different ideas than my parents; that I began to question some of their beliefs that I found out, painfully; what different meant to them....and it wasn't pleasant.

Speaking out loud what I felt about "for colored only", civil rights, the nuns at school and their physical mistreatment of some of my classmates; admiring people whose skin color didn't match mine....all brought down a sledge hammer; smashing me to the ground...shutting my mouth and making me a "silent" child who grew into a "silent" adult around people when I first met them...scoping out whether I was acceptable to them before I opened my mouth.  It made me a good listener and made me a writer.....in numerous spiral notebooks seen by no one but me.

I filled them with all the emotions just waiting to explode out of me.  It was my escape from the outside world that seemed to disapprove of me....it became my fantasy world where the character I created didn't find me offensive; but found me interesting and "liked" me.  My Barbie dolls became "real" to me and lead me into the world I had created.

Once I found rock and roll music; I spent hours in my basement; alone; listening to my growing record collection.  I often would sit with my eyes closed; just letting the music absorb into my brain; breathing it; feeling it; singing it; dancing to it.....making it my own world......but always alone; letting no one else in...too afraid of rejection.  Often I would hear the words screamed "turn that music down"...and I obeyed immediately.  All my teenage years were spent that way...especially after I met the love of my life when I was 15.  He was the ying to my yang....his humor, his easy smile, twinkling blue eyes;  the way he made me laugh without even trying....his bad boy streak; and the way he made me feel absolutely beautiful in his eyes.....it was love at first sight for both of us.

He was my salvation from myself and all my insecurities.  He accepted me for exactly for who I was; loved me with all my imperfections...even found the slight gap in my bottom teeth endearing.  And, I loved him exactly the same way....

But even the letters he sent me from Vietnam I had to hide; because I found out my mother would go through my private things....reading some of his letters to me.  I quickly learned to hide them where she would never find them.

We were married for 6 years; the last three we fought the demons he brought home from Vietnam and finally had to divorce.  But ever all the years after the divorce; we remained friends.  He passed from this world on August 15, 2017; taking a piece of my heart with him....a piece that was his from the day we met....even though he found happiness with someone else; he always had and always will have my love.  Unfortunately; I didn't find the same happiness he did.....but that is a story for another day.

Forever in my Heart

My heart shattered in a million pieces the day I found out God took you home, 

my First Love.

The pieces were scattered  on the ground around my feet; surrounding me; as I bent to carefully pick them up and painstakingly tried to reconnect the now shallow beating pieces.

But one was missing...I searched everywhere...the only piece I couldn't find...and my eyes slowly felt the tears beginning to fall..

I shook my fist at God and cried "Haven't You taken enough away from me?  Must You leave my heart forever broken and missing a piece?"

When out of nowhere, I heard a familiar voice filling my head...your voice.  "You haven't lost a piece of that loving heart, silly goose; that's the piece I picked up before I made the final cross over and hold in my heart; holding your love for me safe until we see each other again when we can put the pieces back together; reuniting our hearts as one; my love to your love; your  love to my love...a love that survived all that was thrown at it; even though we had to part our separate ways for a short time.  You, silly goose, were my first love; and don't you know that the magic of "first loves" never die?

I fell to my knees, but not in grief, although that will never end; but in peace, laughter; the laughter that I was yours; and happiness; now positive you are at peace...finally at peace from what Vietnam left in your memories.

Rest in Peace, my love; be with all those who have gone before you and who you cherished during your time here on earth; but make sure you save a place for me and please be there to take me once more in your arms as we did when we first met; when my time comes to cross over the veil....

Good Riddence Christmas 2017

So, another Christmas has come and gone...it left 10 minutes ago.  I won't lie; it was not a happy day for me.  The Christmas's I knew as a child have forever passed away forever.

Many of my family will tell me it's my own fault that I seem to have lost all my family with a few months time.  I wrote a book about my life with my first husband and how his memories for the Vietnam war caused him to become extremely  domestic violent; beating me many time a day; put a gun to my head; put that same gun in my mouth; threatening to blow my brains out.....kicked me with his combat boots on as I fell into a fetal  position; left bruises of his hand prints in my arms from holding me by them, lifting me off the floor with his hand cutting off the circulation in my arms;as he banged my head against the wall, just shy of letting me pass out; then dropping me like an unwanted bag of garbage.

My two birth daughters haven't spoken to me since March 6th,of this year......over a fight that I honestly don't know what I did wrong when I called to wish my oldest birth daughter a Happy Birthday.......and since they had company; one of which was my other birth daughter and I asked if I could say hello to her...........after that all hell broke loose; and I was called a bully; hurting them by turning things around to always say how they hurt me...never accepting responsibility of taking on the narcissistic characteristics of my mother ............and so much more to break my heart.  I never bullied them......that was what my mother did to me.  

Plus I have a husband who never was in love with me; who has always loved himself first; and thinking because he was "George Breo", every knee should bend at the name, including me.  For  so many years; I just took it without question.......until 3 years ago when he was fired from his job for printing out pornography on the company computer....ending a nearly 20 year career there; and was unemployed for months, went through all our 401k; and then having to take a job for less pay and has grumbled about it, is frustrated with it; and takes that frustration on me by verbal abuse, yelling at me almost everyday; but the difference being; I will stand toe to toe with him now and will take no more abuse.....which causes even more problems....then finding out he doesn't love me; but since he is 76 doesn't want to divorce me because he doesn't want to come home to an empty apartment.  We are just roommates, and he knows he has me trapped because my doctor has told me I can never work outside the home again because of my health problems.  So he uses it.

So goodbye Christmas....I'm glad you are over.  Maybe Christmas 2018 will be tolerable.  There were no Christmas miracles for me.........I'm wondering if God even sees me.  John Lennon said "God is a concept"....maybe he was right?  Good riddance Christmas................don't let the door hit you in the ass as you leave.

The leaves are starting to put on their autumn coats and the weather is becoming crisp and cool.  When I get up in he morning I can feel that the winter coldness is not too far in the future because the bathroom tiles hold the chill of the night.

Even with the freezing cold weather inevitably on its way, I'm not dreading it as I have in the past.  I have discovered you and known you intimately.  There is a natural warmth about you that no snow storm could ever ice over.  Your arms have warmed me; your lips have tasted mine and mine yours; your hands have held mine; your eyes have looked into my very soul and loved me.

Your body took my body into yours, making me know the pleasures of the flesh; but you were always more giving than taking; leaving me limp from your love.

You made me laugh, big belly laughs; your eyes twinkled with mischief soon to come.  You loved me, loved me unconditionally and I will hold you in my heart and soul forever.

Your passing was too soon; my love.....you were my first love, and I will never, never forget you.  I will always love you until death due us part........... 

The other day I wrote a post about what I (non-theological) felt prayer is.  I guess I feel pretty passionate about the subject (which surprises me) because it's still in the forefront of my mind.  And while I don't like to be negative (and I'm hoping this post WON'T be, but by just saying that I've put a negative in there), I'm thinking about what prayer isn't...at least according to the gospel of Bfth (the unordained non-theologian.)

Prayer is NOT a publicity stunt.  That is not to say that prayer should not or cannot be done publicly or with a group of people (large or small).  But praying is not a way to show the world how "religious" or "good" you are.  It's not a show.  It's not a test that you get graded on.  As I pointed out yesterday:  "And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others."  (Not my words; they come from Matthew.) When groups of people pray together the intent SHOULD BE holy, NOT showy.  As I see it, one of the problems with public prayer is that it seems (and in many cases may well be) to be done for show. That is not what the intention of prayer SHOULD be.

Prayer is NOT public.  Again that is not to say it should be done in public, but prayer should be intensely personal.  It is a conversation between you and God, the Universe, etc.  You don't pray because John Doe says you should.  You don't pray because Jane Smith is praying.  You pray because you NEED to.  You pray because there is something inside of you that needs to be shared.  

Prayer is NOT a wish list.  Praying does not bring new cars or a pony for your birthday.  (Sorry!) Prayer CAN act as a self-motivator.  So while prayer won't put a new car in your driveway, it can help you help yourself to save for/work toward purchasing one.

Prayer is NOT rote.   It's not something to be done thoughtlessly. It is not something you go through the motions for; it needs to have meaning.  People pray at different times and in different ways.   That's the way it needs to be as we are all unique individuals with our own distinct way of connecting through prayer. You don't have to be on bended knee to pray.  You don't have to speak outloud to pray.  When you pray, do it YOUR way.

Prayer is NOT something that is done once and tossed away. Prayer can be simple, it does not have to be complex.  But prayer is NOT easy. Prayer is a commitment.  A commitment to yourself and the one/the thing you are praying for.   It takes work.  It means giving of yourself.  Which leads me to...

Prayer is NOT passive.  Prayer requires action.  Prayer is NOT the end...it is the beginning.  It is an opportunity to start new and wonderful things.

Why am I crying?

Endless tears just keep falling;

sadness overwhelms me in ways that feel so permanent

I don't even know why I'm crying; why they won't stop.

I should be somewhat happy; yet happiness

eludes me like a ghost unseen.

My feelings of sadness are so deep; slipping me deep

down my well of hell....and I don't know why.

It has been a long time since I have felt this helpless...

this hopeless; this sadness; this depression.

Have I really forgotten how to smile 

and only remember how to cry?

Have I really lost what love I had in my life

and remember only pain?

Oh heart, deceitful heart; why do you torment me so?

My heart; oh heart; where have you tossed the love

I once had known?

I yearn to be loved like the desert yearns for water

I yearn to be loved like the child without a mother

I yearn to be loved like a woman by a man

who sees me for who I am, not what I can

do

My arms are so empty, and longed to be filled

with the tender embrace of a man 

a man who is in love with me; the good and the bad

the perfect and the imperfect

who accepts me and can see no other before me

a man who puts me first in his life; as I put him first in mine

isn't that how love is suppose to be?

Please God; fill the emptiness that is me

fill the heart that is crushed

God, I pray thee; send me the love You have

always meant for me

Hear my desperation; hear my prayer, my plea;

for without you, none of this can be.

I will die without love, unconditional love; 

I will die

The Dreams are Over

My heart is breaking, my tears fall freely over the  events of this day.  How can something so wonderful turn so horrible in a matter of minutes?  How can love turn to hate in the snap of a finger?

I have been on this planet 65 years and have done nothing of any significance...fulfilled none of MY dreams and aspirations.  I have given all for everyone else's needs; although I'm sure some of them don't think that way.  They will never know all that I have freely given up so their dreams would become realities.

Now for the very first time; one of my dreams is becoming real; and a person I love so dearly cannot accept the fact that all of my time is devoted to making it a reality.  I never, never meant to hurt him; but he says he is so disappointed in me........to the point of yelling at me and saying the most awful things to me.......about me.

I know that I will never be good enough, have never been good enough for anyone in my life; and that was proven to me tonight.  Sleep will evade me this night......tears will find their way to my pillow most of this night.  How could I ever believe the cycle of  domineering and controlling men in my life would ever be broken.  I have learned my lesson well.  To do as I am told; to have no opinions of my own or pursuits of my own...to only do the will of  others.  It has been this way since I was a child and it continues still.

I have been verbally taken down.........I don't know my way up.  I have been dragged down into my well of hell; left to rot, left to die.  I don't know how to crawl out this time and the truth is; I don't really want to.  Staying here means that I will be a burden to no one.  This is where I belong until  death comes to take me home.