Dear Stupid Pesky Migraine,

BACK OFF. No, Really, Back the flippin bleep off. Got it? Good. I’m pretending that you are just a regular, tiny headache and I’m still in full control of my life. Sure, I’ve dimmed the lights, for a cozy, romantic look but that proves nothing.  I just have a minor headache and even though I am squinting, it’s because I took off my glasses so I could see better. You understand, I’m sure.

I’m new to this world of migraines so I don’t have a whole lot of experience, do I take that preventive medicine now or am I wasting it? I don’t know. I really don’t, I guess I’ll wait, in an hour it will be better or much worse.

I know I am tired, I have been tired all day because I didn’t get enough sleep and I wish I could tell you that I had a great time last night drinking and dancing at some fab party but frankly I haven’t been to a party since my sister’s surprise party which really wasn’t that much of a surprise.There was no drinking or dancing there (at least for me) just Jane’s quinoa salad which I hate to admit, I really liked, because she had raisins and craisins and dried apricots in it. Fruity quinoa, who knew?

Why have I recently developed migraines at the advanced age of 57 years of age? I have no flippin’ idea. I got through the first one at the ER after hours of agonizing pain

and finally they gave me a shot of something wonderful so I could get some sleep and the pain eased away so very slowly. I discharged myself after the first round of medication because I wanted to be home in my own bed. My counterpart in the next bed, with the same exact diagnosis, chose to stay in the hospital and get another dose of pain relief.

Can’t say that I blame her, looking back, If I had known then what I knew now, I’d still be in that bed smiling in my safe slumber. I wish they had given me a strong medication to take with me but they don’t trust us normal pain people with “abusive substances” as if one Percocet would put us over the edge. Anyway, all I wanted was to get out of the hospital, infestation hotel of germs and creepy-crawley things.

So, do you really think I needed ANOTHER INVISIBLE ILLNESS to add to my plethora of symptoms because frankly, I thought I had enough. I KNOW I had enough. Is this some cruel joke or do you think this is wildly hysterically funny?

I’m not laughing, I’m disgusted, fed up and sick of all these unrelated illnesses that I keep dreaming about a miracle cure or at least ONE interested doctor that will take it upon him/herself to try to figure it out. Got no volunteers except the mother of a son (who used to be friends with my son) in elementary school. That’s the closest I have and I truly appreciate her interest. Nobody cares, anymore. That’s what it feels like, that’s what it is.

All those one in a million doctors that take the extra time to try to solve the puzzle, I haven’t found one yet and yes, I’ve been looking. Any volunteers?  I will beg if you want me to but nobody is sending me emails or sending me SOS messages that spell out ” I WOULD LOVE TO HELP YOU ANSWER THIS MYSTERY, LEAN ON ME.”

In the end we each have our own shit we have to go through. I sure have mine. Apparently, It will stay mine forever. All mine. Because, in the end, nobody cares, let me introduce you to Medicine 101.”IT’S JUST NOT THEIR JOB, DEAL WITH IT, IT’S ALL UP TO YOU. LOOK WHO IS LAUGHING NOW, IT SURE ISN’T ME!”

Haiku Horizons, Home

Nestled in my lap

sleep, red-furry dog, snore, sigh

Home, together, safe.

 

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Coming home, head down

ashamed, broken, unsure, sick

Family is love.

 

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Homecoming queen sits

silver sparkles, crown, glory

starved, tortured inside.

 

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#Free Write Friday, Kellie Elmore

SEASONS CHANGE, AS DO I

Strangers in uniforms, hospital workers and cops, are bringing me here to this dark brown building, against my will. There is force, extreme force, holding me down and if I try to get away, their grip on me gets tighter, the cuts hurt more, blood-soaked white bandages. I tried to escape, I slit my wrists in the bathtub.

I had no way of knowing that my mother would be arriving home after her flight to France was cancelled. I wanted to die, I don’t deny that. Why is that a crime? I was hurting myself and no one else. I know, I cannot win. I know this particular dream is over but I wanted to be by myself and not face the bitter reality of my drunken, crazy world. How many times did I have to hear “you’re no good” until I really believed it? This is a solution for me. How dare they stop me. It should be my right.

If someone else says “the world does not stop for you” one more time I will slap them hard against their smug cheeks. That is how I feel when I have no choice. More likely, I would put my hands around their wrinkled, pale necks and squeeze, hard. I don’t like when all my options are taken away. Do you?

I live on the East Coast with my friends and we talk about Winter incessantly with the same passion and hatred. We hate winter and ice and snowstorms. We can sense, to the day, when the last shiny, glorious day of Autumn disappears and that first startling chill of ice

strips your body naked and you know in your gut that there is no turning back. You are stuck in this season for a very long time. You feel trapped, like in a “solitude” room where they most likely are taking me in the hospital, the room with the  padded green walls so small you feel you will just suffocate from madness.

Our lives for the past twelve weeks had been mostly glorious in bold colors, people, the blue sky, birds, gardens, flowers

is about to turn into a mixture of black and white. Different shades of gray, from pure white to gritty black, for me, suicide producing thoughts. My friends talk about a vacation in Florida, they don’t want to off themselves like I do. Come on,  don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it? Really. Well, I have, many times. I’d be dead before I lived in Seattle, Washington although at least marijuana is legal there. Maybe it helps, maybe it doesn’t but I would need more than that to get through those arduous, long, gray days and the constant drizzle of rain.

 

I cannot live with gray or black and white, I need color to sustain me, I consider myself to be an artist. I need the sun to smile at me, to touch my skin, to stroke my hair. I need to see color for my sanity, the ocean, the garden in my neighbor’s yard, playful dogs outside, children laughing.

I will live no longer in this world of dark, don’t underestimate me, stupid fools. If I want to go, don’t doubt me. There are plenty of ways which I can leave, you just won’t know from which door I will exit…. or when.

Convos With An Addict, A Food Addict

Shhhh.  Quiet. My fantasy is about to come true.

I’m lifting the triangular tip of my slice of pizza right up near my mouth, slowly. It’s always the anticipation that makes it so exciting. The savory smell of the tomato sauce and oregano, garlic,starts wafting in the air, that smell that draws you in, the one you’ve longed for. You breathe in the luxurious scent with one long breath, you moan with happiness and then, finally, you pick it up and feel the rough, grainy texture in your hands that you stroke with pleasure.

I lift up the heavily anticipated slice (or 2 or 3) of pizza, blow on it gently, I want warm pizza not too hot to burn me, a little spicy, adding extra garlic salt and I open my lips and taste that first amazing bite.

This is only the first slice of pizza of the two or more I will eat tonight, my husband and I have looked forward to this night for days. We only use one pizzeria in town even though there many other options. But, this one, is our favorite and we have tried every one of four or five places, sampling each, several times.

In the past we ordered a slice of Sicilian pizza and a regular slice for each of us of us but I’m not sure which direction we will go tonight. We’ve taken chances on the Sicilian slices before, sometimes it’s a bit too doughy and the ratio is wrong.

I know what you are thinking there is no such thing as too doughy yet when it comes to Sicilian pizza there needs to be a balance and sometimes from this place, the balance has been off. It depends on our mood, we are never disappointed with their regular slices, plain or mushroom, I have a feeling I know what we will do.

I lick my lips in anticipation. They also serve (sorry if this is a bummer for pizza enthusiasts) the most amazing salad, (stick with me here) with kinds of lettuce, craisins, goat cheese and slices of avocado .Believe me I am not a salad lover but this seems like it should be outlawed it is SO good. It comes with some sort of silky raspberry dressing and we are not counting calories here.

This was yesterday’s dinner, I would happily eat the same thing today. This is one of my favorite (and most comforting) meals. It speaks to me of my youth and happiness, and Dani’s House of Pizza and André the Pizza maker and of course, the owner, Dani. It was a tradition when we were old enough to walk from school and go there for lunch. For one dollar we got two slices, a drink (grape, no ice) and had leftover money for candy.
Just thinking about it makes me nostalgic and very, very hungry. Maybe I will have the same meal again, Saturday.and toast to the old times when we were young and life was easy and uncomplicated.

 

I Feel Silence

Across the boundaries of time and space

words hang in the air, stuck, like frosty icicles on trees.


They attach themselves, blinding our vision,

showing our vulnerability.

Snow accumulates with sorrow

Dark skies, no stars, silent birds, no color

Gray is the white.

People are lonely, they are by themselves

bitter cold,

seems never-ending,

feels like the end of time.

Patience, yes, but I have no more.

The snow, the cold, the blustery winds

will come and go,

the icicles will take new forms but they will be there for months on end.

English: The icicles

English: The icicles (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


Breaking them off with force is not an option, it breaks off all communication where little existed before.

Let them melt, naturally, slowly, let the sun heal their gaping wounds.

We can’t change time nor can we drag it out.

Some things are out of our control.

As hard as it is to accept, do what you have to do to

respect Life.

There will be many sorrows and sometimes,

lovely surprises.

Appreciate every, little, thing.

Learn Patience.

Grown Up Bullies

You would think that by the time people were adults they would know better than to be bullies. Nope, some of those same playground bullies are now adult bullies in the real world. Unfortunately there are also people who have been bullied or had a rough life that become emotional bullies later in life. Not all but some. People, can be really, really cruel, sometimes for no reason at all.

Unfortunately, for someone as gullible as I am, it always come to me as a complete shock. I should have learned this by now but deep down I want to believe that there is some good in people when there isn’t. We’re all capable of different emotions and believe me, I’ve been on the receiving end of a couple of people’s dramatic mood swings lately and I’m desperately trying to be polite.

 

You can’t change people and sometimes people won’t even give you a chance to explain and as much as you want to say your piece, you just have to walk away. LISTEN to your INTUITION even if it’s faint and follow that voice. It’s always right. Always.

 

 

Is it easy? Nope. Do you miss the person? Here’s the thing: Honestly? No. I can’t say I do. When I feel relief, I know I should NOT have been in that friendship from the beginning.  How do you act when you are around this person? More importantly, how do you FEEL? These are key questions, and ones you should ask yourself at the very start.

With the enthusiasm of a new friendship, the joy, the fun and the courtship, I had NOT been paying close attention to my instincts. Every time I push my feelings aside or pretend I am being flexible or give someone “another chance” it simply never works. Never.

I was friendly with several people in the past, I found them interesting and entertaining. One who portrayed herself to be enlightened and true to herself. One with the people and supposedly knew how “Life” worked. She portrayed herself as kind and knowing.  She was neither but I fell for her charm. I even helped her with a business but that is beside the point. She talked about Karma, she will learn it by herself when it comes back to her in ways that have nothing to do with me.

The other person was young and impulsive, she was not mature enough to listen to my side of the story and when I stopped listening to her mania I felt utter relief. I even know she still checks in on one of my profiles from time to time, you would think, by now, she would stop,

 

I realized that I did have initial doubts about BOTH of these people but I decided to ignore them, I pushed those feelings aside and did not pay attention to my gut instincts, I decided it was worth the chance. Believe me, it wasn’t.

The people who you choose to part ways with do not serve you in ANY way. It’s hard to accept that YOU messed up to begin with. You felt the flutters of doubt, you remembered the creepy-crawly feeling in your stomach and lifting your eyebrows questioning a minute too long. You knew, instinctively but you chose to ignore. OWN that, you made a mistake, TRY not to do it next time, learn from it.

Go slowly with a new friend. Sometimes, that’s my problem. I like someone so much that I fail to take it slowly and I jump in with innocence and enthusiasm. Can I change? Probably not. My only other option?

 

A strong guard, like a tall barbed wire fence, to keep all people away, to shield myself from hurt and pain. I need to take it slow, to follow my own instincts, to listen more carefully and NEVER doubt myself again. No excuses.

CAN’T WE ALL TRY TO BE JUST A LITTLE NICER TO EACH OTHER?

 

 


 

 

 

Haiku Horizons, Space

Crowd me with clutter

Gasping, struggling for white air

Give me space to dance.

English: Photo of the living room of a compuls...

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Ocean, Spacious, Sky

Diamond peaked waves twinkle, stars

Be One with Nature.

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She struggles for space
cloying boyfriend glued, shadow
Try to rip layer.

 

 

 

 

 

*Show Me You Love Me, Bake Me A Peach Pie

or a vanilla coconut cake, or a chocolate cake with raspberry preserves, please.

or buy me one.. How about a last of the summer plum-cake? I would love that too. The way the first bite of flaky, buttery crust feels as it slides into your mouth. The texture of the  plums both soft, liquified, chunky, as they scrape against your teeth. Tart and sweet at the same time. Summer is officially over when you see the first prune plums in the supermarket, it’s a daunting site. For my mom and me, it’s the true symbol that Summer is definitely and completely OVER.

Another plum cake

Another plum cake (Photo credit: Wikipedia)



Rapture. Heaven. I am a sweet tooth junkie. My husband would be happy with a bowl of ice cream every night but I dream of pastries. This is what happens when you are born to a German mother and an Austrian father. I blame it all on genetics and the fact that I only had jello,applesauce and sherbet for dessert growing up. I didn’t know any other desserts existed.b

Banana cream pie, crème brule, there is no dessert I would refuse. Fresh fruit cup, perhaps? That’s not a dessert to me, it’s a snack. True, also for cheese plate, that’s lunch.

Yesterday, at our town’s farmer’s market I saw a small homemade peach crumb pie that I bought immediately. I was ready to devour it that night but my husband cajoled me into freezing it and saving it for when our son comes home from college for a visit. God knows I love my children more than myself but I had to really think about this. Sigh, it’s in the freezer.

There was nothing there was pure chocolate for when my daughter comes home but I know the exact place to buy her a chocolate-chocolate cake. I could even bake it myself.

Even when the kids were little dessert was holy, we definitely weren’t one of those organic, no sugar, no junk food homes. Having been deprived of snacks like Yodels and Chocolate Chip cookies, Mallomars, Oreos and milk I stocked them for my kids when they came home from school. Their cousins LOVED to sleep over at our house, they came in and dove into our cereal aisle. The only cookie we had growing up was “Social Tea.” I happen to still really like them but on a play date I discovered a junk food group I had never seen before!

Before I get any angry letters from herbalists and organic naturalists, I should say that everything is good in moderation. We don’t eat boxes of any cookie, we’ll eat one cookie or two and we eat fresh fruit and vegetables always. Now that the kids are in college, we tend to eat much healthier.

Dessert is a treat, “no dessert” used to be a punishment in our house. We thought it was a good idea until a few years ago our grown-up children told us it was a complete joke.

Parenthood, you do the best you can, it doesn’t come with an instruction booklet.


 

*This post may not be safe for those who are diabetic.

I Pay My Shrink In Candy Corn

It’s true. I am lucky enough, (SO lucky) that I have a therapist that won’t charge me money while my husband isn’t employed full-time. I love this woman and it is the furthest thing from transference ever.

Candy corn detail.

She asked me last time I saw her, “How on earth did you get into my practice, I don’t accept new patients”? I grinned widely and said ‘you liked me on the phone, I present well.” Sure enough that was the truth. My old shrink, Doc, had retired somewhat against his will, to Florida and I looking for someone new.

Finding a good fit is the hard part. My doctor is a really good fit. I asked her once “what happens if I move?” she answered “we Skype!” How can you not love that?

For me, there is absolutely NO SHAME at all in seeing a therapist, in fact if I had the money I’d probably do it more often and with great pleasure. I do feel that we need MORE FUNDING for mental health and more trained people in the schools. I really do. I think that if each elementary school had really good therapist they would be able to track problems at the beginning and should follow through, working with middle school, high school etc.

Obviously, I have anxiety issues and I’m HIGHLY emotional and sensitive. I’ve told her that I want to be less sensitive and be a cold, hard woman. This way was just not working for me.  I was getting hurt and misled and I am too gullible believing the good in people. She looked at me intently, her blue eyes facing my green eyes, her red hair, wild like some sort of plant in the dessert and she laughed.

I said “I’m serious!” and she said “I know you are. But, you can’t change who you are. You are sensitive and that’s good and bad. Yes, you will get hurt but you can’t all of a sudden change and be a cold-hearted, feeling-less person. It isn’t you, it’s not who you are.” Inside I gurgled with disappointment and took a deep breath. I knew, down deep, she was right. How could I change the way I am?

The only thing I could change were my reactions (maybe) and not to get so emotionally invested in the beginning (maybe.) So, I am planning to greatly appreciate my wonderful, happy times that are greater than great with detail when they are positive and ride out the storm just like everyone else when bad things happen, when so-called friends disappoint. I take things way too seriously and if I find out a friend is disingenuous and fake, not to mention a back-stabber or liar, I admit I hate it but I learn again, not to trust everybody.

I KNOW who my true friends are, I cherish them with all my heart.

Friendship

Haiku Horizons, Train

Wedding of dreams, love

Pearl white, dress, train trailing hope

Amid sun burst clouds.

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Train of thought, jumbled

dementia holds, gnarly grip

blank eyes staring back.

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Shove, push, jump, screaming
Train tracks, easy vehicles
Self-harm, blood, guts, death.


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