Nightmares and reality

The dream began as it always did with flashes of a past filled with images you only see in a nightmare. Crimson blood smeared on the white pillows, their downy soft feathers falling like rain back onto the bed gently.Their now contrasting colors of white and red stealing their innocence. The night is filled with a deafening silence, the room empty and void of all life save for his breathing, becoming more labored by the minute.
Terror seeped into his pores as he made his way to her side of the bed. Seeing her there so lifeless her eyes now just empty soulless orbs staring into oblivion. Her long blonde usually perfectly coifed locks matted together with blood. The ends still dripping with her life’s elixir.

His eyes traveled down her body where her arms were covered in deep gashes as if someone had taken a knife to a cutting stone. Yet, instead of stone, it was her soft supple flesh, now turned into nothing more than so much meat. The ripped edges already crusting over from the rapidly drying blood. Adam’s breath caught as his eyes caught the blood still oozing out of her chest and abdomen. Her once perfectly rounded breasts now just a ragged gaping mess of flesh flayed down to the bone. Her intestines were spilling out of her stomach and onto her legs the flies had already begun to feast on the grotesque scene before him. It was like some kind of horror movie only the scene was captured right here in his bedroom. He bent down to touch her face the bile beginning to rise even further as white hot tears stung his eyes.

He waited for a heartbeat half expecting her to wake at any moment and say “Gotcha” but he knew she was dead. He bent his forehead to hers and as the tears fell and splashed down upon her lifeless corpse he closed her eyes never to see their blue sparkle again. He stood not knowing what do to. Enraged at who could have taken his beautiful wife away. It was a moment of pure insanity as he began to shake from the sheer terror of it all. Her blood soaked the white plush carpet and yet, he still felt he may get some on him and was freaking out at the thought.

Adam finally looked down at his own body as it shook with a mixture of grief and terror and what he found crumbled him. He stood there over, the love of his life with bloody marks gouges on his hands and wrist as if someone had tried to fight him off. He found blood smeared into his shirt and knew in that instant it was hers. In his other hand still dripping was a knife. A knife that had not just her blood on it but meat and tissue hanging off of it. He threw the knife as it dawned on him he had killed her, he was the monster that had penetrated his inner sanctum and butchered his wife.

With no memory of the incident, he couldn’t figure out why? Why would he have done this? What would possess a seemingly normal man to murder the love of his life? Confused and heartbroken he backed away slowly, hearing a laughter in his head he had never heard before, A person that loved the idea of killing, a person that wanted to kill again, someone that thirsted for her blood and still craved it even after her life had left her.

This was the first time Adam realized he was more than what he thought he was. This was the first time he had met his dark side. He knew anyone was capable of such atrocities it just took a certain kind to be able to go through with it. This was his first kill and in that moment the sudden sense of pleasure that washed over him at the thought of watching the life drain out of his perfect wife he knew it wouldn’t be his last. As he sobered up and did away with the murder weapon and made his wife and all evidence disappear a sort of peace he had never felt before settled over him like a warm blanket.

Ten years later, and he always knew when that certain itch was upon him he always knew when it was time to find his next victim. It always started with the damned dreams. The dreams of her with her pretty blonde hair matted with blood. Her perfectly rounded figure reduced to nothing more than bones and meat. It saddened him and at the same time, it gave him a purpose in a world gone mad. It was a good thing he was good looking all these whores flaunted themselves at him regardless of his off-putting demeanor. There were always plenty of victims flocking to his door. Case in point the woman in his bed at this very moment.

He woke with a start and knew it was time. It was his moment to shine. He looked over at the brunette sleeping so peacefully. He smiled with a glimmer in his eyes. This was way too easy like shooting fish in a barrel easy. He almost felt sorry for her as he raised his knife in the air…

MEMOIRS FINAL CHAPTER

This is how this ends. The saga of giving my child up for adoption and going through all the pain and suffering I went through has come full circle. After twenty-one years, my demons are laid to rest. It is a funny thing not having this weight on my shoulders anymore and honestly, I don’t know what to do with myself.However, I feel a sense of freedom and peace I haven’t felt in all these years. It was as if my heart, my soul, was waiting for this moment. This moment I secretly hoped would never come, but once it was here everything else faded away. The hurt, the pain, the hate, the anger. It is just gone!

After twenty-one years a lifetime, if you will, I was contacted by my daughter’s dad, on Mother’s Day no less. That was on a Sunday and throughout the rest of that week, I was a Zombie. I felt like I had been hit by a Mack truck I went through every single emotion you could possibly think of. In the end, though, I needed this confrontation, I needed to expel this particular demon once and for all. I also helped me realize that I did the right thing, I gave my daughter a life I nor her father could have given her. It was made clear to me that he still doesn’t have the tenacity for follow through and be the man she needs him to be. Even after all this time, he is still the same. Which saddens me, but I am coming to realize, it is not my problem.

This week was my worst fears come to life. A man I thought was out of the picture forever suddenly returns after twenty-one years. What did he hope to accomplish? I still have no idea? Because he has become clear to me in the days since that is was never about his daughter? She was simply the in he needed to get my attention. Sick, right? It seems all he wanted to do was mess with my carefully cultivated life that I had without him, That is unacceptable. He even hired a service to find me and the entire time I am thinking that he wanted to get to know her. He was thinking… well I honestly I don’t know. He seemed to be angry that I had moved on. He seemed mad that it only took me two years after we split up to find someone new. Confusion set in as he supposedly doesn’t remember rejecting his child or abusing me. He spoke to me as if he wasn’t the greatest mistake of my life. As if we were old pals instead of exes that really shouldn’t have anything to do with one another. Did I mention it has been twenty-one years since we have spoken? I am sure I did as that is the one thing that continues to roll around in my mind. TWENTY-ONE YEARS!

What is he thinking? what gets me is that someone can abuse you to the point of damn near killing you on several occasions or watching as your mind slowly slips away and you become someone else and they don’t remember it! How is this possible? Or is it some kind of sick game he is still playing with me? Regardless, I am done. I am done worrying that my worst fear will come to light because it has happened, and I survived it. How many of us get to face our past demons head on? How many of us get to say exactly what we need to say to said demons and come out of it new? I feel as if a 50-pound weight that has been removed. A weight I didn’t know still existed until this week. A weight that haunted me in my darkest times. I am now free, of him, and free of a past I thought long dead. How many of us can truly say this and mean it?

This may be the final chapter and it has come full circle but I look forward to the life I have left ahead of me now that this is finally buried. This has also brought my daughter and I a little closer which is all I ever wanted. She is grown now and capable of her own decisions and I do hope that someday her father will come around. If nothing else for her sake, but if not I rejoice in the fact that over twenty-one years ago I made the hardest decision any mother should have to make, and even though it has been a long rocky road for me. I know now, it was still the right decision.

The events of the past week have been rolling around in my head and for the most part, I feel like I have been in a dream. Or shell-shocked, after twenty-one years this person had the audacity to come back into my life only to fuck with me. I don’t get what he got out of it. He had to know this reunion would not be filled with butterflies and rainbows, right?

It has been a long road from outright hatred of him to a simmering anger, and in the past week I have gone through every single emotion any human can possibly go through. Except for one LOVE! The love I once held for this man is no more. It is sad to see that a year of my life was wasted on such a creature and yet, as a mother, he gave me the greatest gift I could possibly have, my daughter. I may not have raised her I may be just her “birth mother” but that doesn’t negate the love I feel for her daily. The day she was placed in my arms over twenty-one years ago changed me forever. Just because I gave her a better life doesn’t change the fact that my blood runs through her veins, it doesn’t change the fact that not a day goes by that I don’t think of her, she is my heart, my soul, my reason for being. Just because I didn’t raise her hasn’t and won’t ever change that.

People may look at me as just a “birth mother”, and yet I am so, much, more than that. I am a Fighter, I am strong, I am a survivor, I am a Mother!

 

There were parts of me that loved the military don’t get me wrong.  I loved coming in at one of the top people to make it thru the cofidence couse 

FRACTURED

As  I sit here staring at the moonlight, I feel empty. What once gave me pleasure now just hangs there like a wasted ornament on a lifeless tree.

I rise broken and frayed I stumble toward its healing power. Yet he and I both know he can’t fix this thing that is broken inside of me.

I can still hear the first crack of my mind as it continues to echo and splinter out. The sound like so many bones breaking under pressure and I think to myself “am I already dead?”

My soul weeps for my heart as it shatters along with what’s left of my mind and I find that the light has gone out and I am once again alone, in the darkness.

My eyes begin to burn with unshed tears, tears that I have cried a thousand times, and I wonder much like the bear in the woods can your mind really break if no one is there to witness it?

I can hear the time slowly ticking down like that of a bomb counting down to my extinction, as the fear that I am losing my mind overtakes me.

An agonizing, painful, death if there ever was one. To watch and wait with bated breath as your mind slowly gives way, to oblivion.

I sit here on my playground of insanity with its lifeless trees with their lifeless leaves. All the color has been leached out of them and me I am alone amidst the desolation.

After all these years, and all these times I have fought and won, I laugh at the thought that this, this is what will finally break me. This is what will finally win the war I wage daily.

Once the question “how much more can one person possibly take?'” began to circle my brain I knew it was only a matter of time before my mind began to break.

The earth began to quake, I began to shake, the rubber band that was holding the pieces of my mind finally snapped with a crispness somehow only I could hear.

Trapped in the recesses of my own mind, I seek solace where there is none, I seek peace in a never-ending war, I seek quiet in the midst of a raging storm. There is none.

There is nothing only me, sitting here with my fractured mind, on a moonless, colorless night.

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT’S YOUR ALTER EGO?

We all see those quizzes on facebook right? You know the ones that you take to see what state you should live in, or the one that sees what kind of princess you should be, or the ones that show what angel you are, or mythical creature, or cartoon character or, or agghhh! It is enough to make your head spin and God forbid you do one that a friend sent you the link for then that is ALL THEY EVER SEND YOU!

I have never seen one that states what your alter ego should be. So me, being who I am, took that as a challenge of sorts and so here we are. I challenge all my followers and more to do a blog about your alter ego. I will go first and I may even do a blog from time to time with her thoughts. So here goes…

She is also a brunette except her eyes are the color of emeralds disappearing into the darkness of the night. She believes in nothing but herself and she unlike me has kept her girlish figure since she has no children or husband or anything but herself. She also survived the trauma of our youth yet, she unlike me deals with it by getting into bar fights with grown men and cracking skulls. She loves the smell of blood on the pavement in the morning. Kicking ass and taking names is her mantra. She loves the feel of leather on her skin the tighter the better and wears cowboy boots (she calls shit kickers) but only ironically. She unlike me has managed to tame her wild hair down to a silky wave and wears a leather vest with no bra every chance she gets. She rides a hog and nothing else, everything she owns is in her saddlebags.

She loathes jewelry and makeup save for the to die for ruby red lipstick she wears, she calls it the whore’s mouth and yet she doesn’t have random sex. She may be loose with her morals but she tends to keep her legs firmly closed. She knows she’s hot and loves to torture men with her feminine wiles. She sees nothing wrong with this as it is in her terms just part of the job.

Speaking of jobs she used to be a police officer, after the trauma of our childhood she decided what better way to get the scum off the streets than to be a policewoman. However, she went rouge one too many times as she loathes rules just as much as she loathes jewelry and makeup, and got kicked off the force. She is now one of the most sought after Bounty Hunter’s even with her tendencies toward rage. She is in a word psychotic. I fear she will one day take her rage to the next level but she just laughs and laughs inside my head. Not a girly laugh mind you, a laugh that would make even the devil quake in his fiery pit.

She sees things only in black and white there are no in between’s and she uses all her attributes to get her man every damned time. She would say that justice rules her but I see how broken she is. Only I see her for what she really is a scared little girl that doesn’t get close to anyone out of fear of what they can do to her. Regardless of this, the damage has been done. She speaks her mind and for anyone that doesn’t like it will more than likely get a beat down. She has broken more laws than I can count yet she would say she is the law. She makes it, she can break it. I feel for her in her loneliness no family to call her own, but I know she just sees that as weakness. “Feelings blah!”  She would say and I would shed a tear for her broken shattered soul.

This, this is my alter ego. She may be beautiful on the outside, but on the inside, she is a raging inferno ready to blow at any moment. Her name is Angel by the way, what is your alter ego like?

 

 

If you want to hear more from Angel, like and commet…

MAKE ME SMILE?

Here lately I have felt, blah! Just blah, A few weeks ago I went through some traumatic events as you all should know if you have been reading my blog (hint! hint!) I have faced and overcome and now I just feel empty. Maybe it is a sort of depression, I mean I don’t want to work, I don’t want to clean my house, hell it has been a struggle just spending time with my kids, or write. Yet I still shore myself up and just do it. Something my boss said in our last meeting over my quality of calls I take has been stuck in my head for days now, and after a conversation, I had with my bestie this morning makes me wonder even more. Am I more broken than I think I am? He said that I was very transactional on the phone no emotion or anything, and it got me thinking about the past.

I have a past filled with stuff you only see on tv, (especially Lifetime), it is not something easily talked about as it is an emotional landmine. My friend has been through much the same stuff I have and as I told her this morning we should praise God every day we can get through without becoming a stereotype. You know those stories you hear about the young girl selling herself to fill a void in her life or the young girl that was found dead in an alley from an overdose all to fill some void in her life, or being homeless and starving because the alternative was just too much to bear. (Do you see a theme here?)

Every day that we can go out into the world and function like everyone else is a blessing. Those we love may not get it and that is okay because I wouldn’t wish anyone the amount of pain I have endured in my lifetime. I just consider us warriors, strong enough to overcome our past and not be ruled by it. Our strength is what makes us beautiful. It’s what drives us to be better, better for our children, better for our significant others, better for ourselves. I did a blog recently on strength and the question still remains what can make me so strong willed and others not? All I know is that by the grace of God I am alive and well today, and I am grateful for that every day!

I have been told on numerous occasions let the past go! Forgive and forget! That my friend is easier said that done. As anyone who has ever been through a horrible trauma can attest. Yet, what these people don’t understand is there is a difference between letting go and forgetting. I have completely forgiven but I can never forget. For people like my friend and I that have suffered abuse after abuse after abuse as a child will never be able to forget that we were once deemed as nothing of consequence. She said something interesting to me today. It was “what we go through in our childhood shapes who and what we become.” If this is true I have come a long way since then and I am all the better despite it. She is right the scars we collect in our youth are ones we carry close to us, is it so that we do remember and strive to not be like that or is it simply a blanket of comfort that we hold on to?

Back to my boss saying my calls were great except for the whole emotional thing. He said I was very transactional on the calls. I realize more and more as I get older that my past has indeed shaped who and what I am. The one thing in my life I wish I could change is that I have no emotions when it comes to certain things. I don’t cry, EVER! Except when I am watching Lifetime of course! I shed a tear here or there but not all out tears. I am uncomfortable around people when they talk about weddings, or funerals, or even that someone I know gave birth. The minute it seems like something real and emotional I shut down. Maybe it has become a self-preservation thing, or maybe my emotional scars keep me from feeling things I should. Either way, it is off-putting to most people but what can you do? If this is the most horrific thing I have from my past then I think I can live with that. Maybe tomorrow I will feel more than blah, and smile again, but for now, I am enjoying the peacefulness of my favorite spot in the yard as I watch the sun go down.

ALL OF ME

All of Me
What would I do without your smart mouth?
Drawing me in, and you kicking me out
You’ve got my head spinning, no kidding, I can’t pin you down
What’s going on in that beautiful mind
I’m on your magical mystery ride
And I’m so dizzy, don’t know what hit me, but I’ll be alright
My head’s under water
But I’m breathing fine
You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind
‘Cause all of me
Loves all of you
Love your curves and all your edges
All your perfect imperfections
Give your all to me
I’ll give my all to you
You’re my end and my beginning
Even when I lose I’m winning
‘Cause I give you all of me
And you give me all of you, oh oh
How many times do I have to tell you
Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too
The world
     I never really listened to this song before and today I listened to it. Between the lyrics and the tone of the music, it is in a word beautiful. We all go through life looking for this, this one person out there that accepts us as we are and loves all of us with all of them. It is something some of us spend a lifetime searching for, yet most of us never find. It is a select few that seem to find their perfect match. Their one true love, that one person you can’t breathe without them. It reminds me of the fairy tale I saw as love when I was a child. That love was some kind of perfect entity all on it’s own. That nothing could break a couple if they were truly in love.
   However for some it I have found it is hard to hold on to that lightening in a bottle and let the flame go out due to one reason or another. They let life get in the way and that is a shame, because the fairy tale isn’t really a fairy tale. If you find that one true person that knows your heart, that one person that see and “love all your curves and edges”, that  “all your perfect imperfections” then you should hold on tight and never let them go. The one that thinks you are their end and their beginning even when they lose their winning because you are by their side. It is a beautiful thing, to be that person they need.
   I have found that, and I refuse to let go. After a lifetime of frogs, I have found my prince. We have been together for many years now and after all the graying of hair, the weight gain, the wrinkles he still looks at me as if I am that girl that walked toward him down the aisle in the fairy tale wedding gown. I am grateful for that. We have weathered many storms together and it has only made us stronger. Unlike the fairy tale a real relationship takes work. If it someone that truly knows your heart it is always worth the effort. As someone that had a rough life previous to us getting together, I am eternally grateful. Thank you, Jason, for loving all my perfect imperfections, All of me will always love all of you…

CHOICES

It is said that we are the choices we make. If that is true, how do we know when it is the right choice. We can wish to turn back the clock all we want, but the fact remains that we can’t. Once the choice has been made there is no going back, there is no turning back time there are only the choices we made and the consequences that follow. I have learned this over and over again throughout my life. None greater than the moment I chose to give my daughter up for adoption. It was the hardest choice I ever made and it has haunted me daily since that day.

Some of the choices we make, even know we know in the deepest part of ourselves it was the right choice can have a lasting effect, forever. It is like when you skip rocks on the water, the ripple effect goes on and on and on. I know in the deepest part of me that due to my circumstances and the never ending trials set before me that giving her up was the best thing for her, and yet it is a battle I would never win with myself. I have constantly questioned did I do the right thing? Did I make the right choice? For the past twenty -one years.  Even seeing how she has flourished and had every opportunity I still question my actions so long ago.

It became utterly clear to me,  that it was indeed the right choice when her father contacted me after all these years. This was my worst fears come to life, this man rejected her then, what could he possibly want with her now? Yet, another choice I would have to make regarding the welfare of my child. If he hurt her or rejected her again, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I was inconsolable for days, having dredged up so many past memories most of which I had forgotten about. Speaking to this man, this man that I had deemed the devil for so long was like a slap in the face, and yet, the more we spoke the more I realized. The choice I made, the one that had been haunting me for the past twenty-one years was, in fact, the right one.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t ready to have her, it wasn’t that I didn’t love her because I do. It was that I wanted to give her everything. The world, with all its endless possibilities. I couldn’t give her that, but the one thing I could do was give her to a loving family that could give her the world. The choices I made have come full circle since speaking to her father. The man that even now seems to have not learned anything from the past. The man that is still rejecting her today. I realized in the moment. That his choices may be eating him up and that is okay with me. But my choices I had to make the tough decision to give her what I new I couldn’t. If in fact, we are the choices we make, then I like to think I am the strong enough to let go when the touch choices come, and I am a loving mother that would and did do anything for their child even if that meant giving her to someone else to raise.