Monday, November 8, 2010

just a bit more

I keep telling myself that my life will straighten itself out, I just have to handle a bit more of this, or a bit more of that and I will be able to control it, or conquer it would be a better asseration..but it isnt happening. And I dont know if it ever will. My mother died in May, it was very tramatic very sudden, and I dont know if I will ever get over it. I had many problems with my mother, but she was always there for me, she always told me it was me and her against the world..and shw was right. I bitched about having to take care of her, and having to put my life on hold for her, and having to cut my vacations short, my trips short, or what ever the case so I could rush home and take care of her..but I would give all the money in china if I could just hold her once more, give her a bath, one of the things I so bitched about. If I could do anything with her, it would be a brief monment of peace for me. I hate myself so much for not being there with her the night before she passed. I was out with a friend, whom I never should have been with. I wasnt doing anything wrong, in essence. But If I was home with my mother, I could have known she was sick, I could have made her go to the hospital..I just wnat those moments back in time. I would do almost anything to be able to go back, to do it over again. to have her for one more day. Since she died, I dont live, I have tried to put off real life, I lost my job, because I was unable to work without crying, I lost my home, I lost my friends, the few I had. I feel like I have nothing, but I have my children, and they are here, but I cant talk to them the way I would talk to my mother, the way she could make me just wake the fuck up and realise that I was screwing up my life. But I see that on my own..and I just dont have the strenght to fix it. I dont want to live my life, not without her. I never thought I would feel this way, but I do...i just dont want to live wihtout her its too fucking hard.

Friday, March 26, 2010 it be

So It be

Deleted from life
Like I no longer matter
Did I ever exist?
Did I make a Difference?
Were the words I said in vain?
Where did the emotions go?
How about the pain?

Because of a disagreement
Because I am different
I lost a friend
Who I guess was never one
To Begin with

Now do I lose this too?
How many more friends will I loose?
What else should I expect?
Spells? Misfortune? Retribution?

Borderline Personality Disorder
Bi-Polar Personality Disorder
They are not to blame
That is such a shame

I don’t blame them for me being me
I don’t blame them for the way I am

Abused, Molested, Raped. Not to blame
Not the same.
Each of us is different.

We all have bad days.
Days when we feel like shit
Our body betrays us, our minds too

That is what is called being BLUE

I may be dramatic
I may be pragmatic
I am not automatic
I do not jump to conclusions
I do not judge
I do not begrudge

All in all I am human
I make errors
But writing how I feel is not one of them
I will not apologize for me being me
Any more

If that means I will be deleted, so it be.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

One is I that carries the Hell

One is I that carries the Hell

As I close my eyes
Sights come to me
A blood stained bed
Its just too much too see

Hands bound, eyes too
Men rape her body
There’s nothing I can do

I hear the muffled screams
I see the darkness as it rings
In her thoughts
And in her dreams

She has all but forgotten
That it even took place
But I have it locked up here
Where I can still see their face

It was but yesterday
In my existence, in my core
I cant ever forget
What they did to make her more

She is but three people you see
One is I, one is her, the other well
She carries it for us all
She suffers the burdens and carries the hell

Written 4-10-09
Mary Carmen Johnson

Moving a mountian

Well, the human mind can forget, at least in part, the pain that one suffered. If the mind is traumatized to the point of breaking. My mind did this. I don’t remember too much of my childhood. In fact I only remember fragments of my life until I was about 8 or 9. I thought this was normal, until I began to talk to my other friends. The few memories I do have of that time, are like broken pieces of a dream. And that dream is not good. Don’t get me wrong I have a few good memories. But mostly those stem from pictures and what people told me happened. And I assume I drew my own memory from that. I was raped at 3 years old. I can remember the before, the beginning and the after extremely well. I can not however remember the middle. The worse of it. I knew it went on for 5 yrs. I don’t remember the 2nd or the 100th time it happened. I don’t know if it happened 100 times. I don’t know if it happened 10 times. I have tried to be hypnotized and “regressed” to the point of remembering. I believed that I would not be able to move on, unless I remembered. I had a therapist when I was 17 that told me that I did not need to remember to go on with my life. That I had to let it go. That my body would not let me remember, and there was a reason for that. I should not fight it. I fought it. I dwelled on it for years, trying to grasp the memories and pull them from the abyss of my mind.

I never remembered everything. But I can tell you that even if I don’t remember everything that their are triggers to my memories that brings them back. Take for example my “father” gave me a music box, Every time I opened it and heard it play, It would take me back. I would not remember an actual memory per say, but the emotions were so raw that I had a hard time escaping the pain. I would literally break down. Even now thinking about the music box, it is making it hard for me to think, the pain in my chest is deep and piercing like a knife is stabbing me.

I never forgot. I did however let go. I do talk about it, when the situation arises that it is necessary. I do not hide my past from people. But I can talk about it (most of the time) with no pain or emotion. Because it is a part of me. But it is not all of me. I did forgive in part the people that raped me. (yes it was more than one) and there was more than molestation, rape, their was also mental abuse.

To this day, I know that what happened to me as a child has shaped me, has damaged me. I know that my illness, in part,was caused by my mind trying to compensate for the horrible things that were done to me. I do not let those people that hurt me off the hook. They have to (or should have to) accept some responsibility for damaging another human being, for taking the conscious effort to know that they were doing wrong. No matter what the situation.

In short, (although this response is very long), You cant forget, because even if you do, your body wont, your mind wont. There will always be a part of you that reacts differently to every situation because of your abuse. You can forgive, but sometimes the anger and the rage that comes from not forgiving them, carries you through the next day. (It did me for years, it was the only reason I am still here) But weather you forgive or forget, you have to learn to let go of the pain. let go of the abuse. Because if you don’t then you will never move on. You will never learn to grow.

Its like tying a rope to a mountain and trying to move it. Let go of the rope, stop trying to put he mountain where it doesn’t belong, and accept the fact that it is there for a reason, you must learn to move around it, or climb it, because if you keep forcing it to be something its not, or go somewhere it doesn’t belong, then you will become defeated, and you wont learn how to overcome the mountain. You must overcome the mountain, despite its enormous size and power, but you cant move it, you cant ignore it, and most of all you cant let it define you.Accept it for what it is, and give it no more power than it deserves

Monday, March 15, 2010

About Me

About Me:

Brief History: I was born on May 15. My mother came from a very southern area, where child abuse, and illiteracy were dominant. She rose above her childhood and got out of her town. She left her family (mostly) behind, because of the way they treated her. In many ways I wish I had her strength, Cause I don't know if I can leave her to make it better for my kids. I have three children whom I love deeply. I am not married, nor have I ever been. I was abused as a child by my "father" and a few other people. It caused some deep (well not so deep) rooted issues that have tainted my life in many ways. I would not say it ruined me, cause I am not ruined. I am different. And sometimes it is, for the lack of a better word, good to go through bad times because it cultivates you and forces you to grow in ways you would have never before. Some of the issues I have are the same ones that other people have; Money, sex, friendships, job, environment, ailing parent(s) etc. Some of the "issues" I have are very different. But we are all different, and we all have different "problems" in life.

On a side note: I use "quotations" around words very often to illustrate my disdain for labels, or hidden meanings that people attach to those certain words.

I like to write poetry, and often only do so when I am in a very dark place emotionally. Therefore most of my writings are darkly colored and very emotional. Most of them have the same theme, cause often my pain comes from the same place. You might think my poetry is very simple, and rather uneducated. And to that I say, yes it is. I have never had a formal education in writing. I do what comes to my mind. I rhyme the way I feel it come to me. I use a lot of words repeatedly in different poems, again because of the muse for my writings is often the same. Occasionally I will do have a very specific goal in my writing, and those poems you can tell from the others. I can go for months at a time without writing anything. Simply cause that is the way my brain works. I need time off from the intensity that my poems cause, or the intensity that causes my poems to come to life.

Well I guess that is as much about me as you need to know right now. But you might need to know that I do often share a lot of myself. That is why I put an "adult" label on my page. Mostly because I know sometimes I get very angry and I might write words that some people don't want to read. Sometimes the subject matter will be very sensitive, that it could damage young ears. Hell, it could damage old I am not telling you I can foresee that I will write a whole lot of cussing, or not. But I do believe in full disclosure.

So now that you have been informed, the honor is mine, if you would like to read, comment, befriend me, or just share in the pain that I have, then you are welcome to join my page. OR what ever it is that they call it these days. I don't want you to "follow me" in the sense that I don't think that anyone should live my life. But your welcome to follow my experience as you will.

Thank you for reading..

You have me,
(if you will),
not all of me,
but you have
All of me's