A to Z Challenge 2024: Day 25: Youth

 

Image by 3005398 from Pixabay

The days of my youth are long behind me, but the things that happened then still affect my life. I suppose this must be true for everybody. While reading William Shatner’s autobiography, I noticed that he and I have something in common: difficulty establishing and maintaining friendships.

Like me, Bill (I think he’d be all right with me calling him Bill) had a difficult childhood, always having to defend himself from bullies. Unlike me, he has been very successful in other areas of his life. He never seems to have slid into self-loathing as I did. Is this the difference?

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~

Image by Jim Cooper on Pixabay

"You've never done anything to aggravate Captain Kirk have you, Space Jockey?"

https://odysee.com/@deepprogresivehouse:4/AIR.--Moon-Safari.-Full-Album:e?r=GTwnGJ4fFBQfzuJgpHVpfKBKaC9b8B16

Cool and beautiful electronic music from French band AIR.

Insecure Writers Support Group 7 December 2022

 

Image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

It's holiday time! Are the holidays a time to catch up or fall behind on writer goals?

Neither. The holidays are business as usual for me. I run a 365-day-per-year writing operation. Falling behind really bothers me so I would never do it deliberately.

I don’t have young kids—don’t have much in the way of family at all, really. I do have family, but I’m estranged from most of them. My son and I will do a day trip to see my mother, who lives about 125 miles from us, before Christmas. My brother lives in Arizona and my mother, son, and I live in Colorado. I’ll send my brother a holiday message. Maybe I’ll make some cookies to send him this year.

Sometimes it’s kind of sad not having friends I can communicate with, but the truth is, I’m not that good at being a friend. I’ve got a lot of trust issues and they tend to ooze their way in and ruin things. I’m a lone wolf with very few connections.

Happy holidays if you celebrate them. If not, have a good day not celebrating.  

~Ornery Owl Has Spoken~

Image by Rosy - The world is worth thousands of pictures from Pixabay

https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html

♥.•*¨Author Elizabeth Mueller¨*•.♥: IWSG: Blogosphere Friendship

♥.•*¨Author Elizabeth Mueller¨*•.♥: IWSG: Blogosphere Friendship: 

It's like real life, few and far between and some people who I've thought were my friends turned out to not be very good friends at all. Sometimes it's made me feel really awful about myself that with billions of people in the world I'm so unlikable. These days, I'm too tired to dwell on it much. 

Also, there are "friends" and there are friends. When guitarist Robbin Crosby became sick from AIDS, he said "I used to think that I had all the friends in the world. When I got sick, I learned that I could count my real friends on one hand."

How did I Love?

Image by Ajay kumar Singh from Pixabay

A response to this post.

Oh gosh, I don't know if this will go through and I don't know if it is even welcome, but here it is.

How did I love?

With much reservation, fear, and sorrow.

I used to have such a strong need to connect with someone that I let a lot of the wrong ones in, and they did me a lot of damage.

Romantically, my theme song is Love Stinks, and I do not want anyone telling me that I need to "try again." No, I do not, and I don't want to.

Even with friendship, my theme song is Love Hurts. Most people who have said they wanted to be friends really just wanted something from me. Money or connections, when I had those. Now that I don't have much of anything, these "friends" are long gone.

I can't really relate to other people with bipolar disorder because although some of them understand the bipolar part, they don't understand the ADD, OCD, and PTSD that is also part of the package.

A lot of people get help from medications, but I can't take anything except a low dose of Lithium. I have type 2 bipolar disorder, so I normally do not get full-on manias and I normally do not experience psychosis. When I take SSRIs, I experience both. I've learned a lot of coping skills, but it's a real balancing act. If I let someone in and they betray me, I could end up in the ER with blood running down my arms from slashing my wrists. It's happened before. I do not want it to happen again. 

I've had love to give in the past. I give it only to a select few and with a lot of reservations. Some people think this means that I'm cold and standoffish. However, I've found that people who demand love tend to be people that will only misuse it.

I didn't say this in my comment on the post, but, for real, other people with mood disorders have been some of the most narrow-minded and least understanding. When they have said that I need to have my doctor adjust my meds if I mention going through a severe depression, and I respond that I can't take the meds because they make me manic and psychotic, these people will suddenly become cold and judgmental. "Well, if you're that depressed, you need to be on meds." 

Well, if you're that much of an asshole, you need to fuck off.

I wish I had known then what I know now. Some people are miserable fuckers who want to rub their miserable fuckery all over others. I never said you were a bad person for taking meds, you defensive douche canoe. Why am I a bad person for opting not to take them when they send me straight off the rails?

Image copyright Open Clipart Vectors

Ornery and Neurodivergent

Tawddgyrch Cadwynog: The Story of Me

Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay

left out, cast off

never let in

by friend and kin

misunderstood

never take off

never begin

never will win

she never could

~Cie~

November PAD Chapbook Challenge 2019: Day 1: Once Upon a Time

Image by SnapwireSnaps from Pixabay

Once upon a time

I dreamed

once upon a time

he was

but now there's nothing left

except the misery

as summer disappears

and the barkers burst the colorful balloons

and take down the faire

players only love you

when you bring them money

gas, grass, or ass

no-one rides for free

little boys grow up

become corrupt

use and throw away

stupid girls

once upon a time

I believed in something

once upon a time

I thought someone waited for me

now I know the truth

the only one waiting 'round the corner

to put his arms around me

is death

that no matter where I am

I'm just two steps ahead of that man

some days I'm philosophical

some days I'm scared out of my fucking mind

and some days I'd welcome the bastard

with open arms

once upon a time

you were mine

you loved this wretched, broken thing

but like a leaf on the breeze you blew away

some things are too corrupted to love 

I thought I saw you coming back to me

but then I woke from my dream

the fairytale disappeared

in a puff of smoke

like Little Jackie Paper

you snuffed out your dreams of Puff

dragons aren't real

magic only exists in fairy tales

and love is nothing but a lie

once upon a time

I believed in happy ever after

now I only believe

that dreams vanish

and hearts break

and

everything

dies

~Cie~

Note:

I just found out about the Writers Digest Poem a Day Chapbook Challenge. Now I am playing catch-up. Click here to learn more.

Carpe Diem #1778: Senryu: Alone

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

the one that no-one

ever wanted to include

is still all alone

~Cie~

Notes:

My reason for writing this cheerful little ray of verbal sunshine is this:

I am not in a good place at the moment. 

I've stayed too long at the Bipolar Carnival and things have become a bit nightmarish.

It's a goddamn good thing that I live 50 miles from the nearest city, it's cold and windy and foggy out, and my night vision isn't great. 

Why? So I can't go do something stupid.

I usually revel in being a cranky curmudgeon who keeps myself to myself.

At the moment, I'm just alone in bad company.

Image by David Mark from Pixabay

OctPoWriMo 2019: Day 2: Changelings: A Senryu Trio

Image by prettysleepy1 from Pixabay

the most docile soul

may transform to a changeling

if abused enough

a child's mind comes to
fear what waits in the darkness
when left all alone

a fantasy world

is better than what is real

for the outsider

~Cie~

Song Inspiration:

Also dedicated to H.P. Lovecraft in honor of his story, The Outsider.
He wrote it about himself.
I always felt as if he could have written it for me.

Carpe Diem Field of Flowers: Honeysuckle

I can remember

the smell of honeysuckle

New Mexico night

~Cie~

Notes:

I recently completed and am about to submit my manuscript for the Insecure Writers' Support Group anthology contest. The genre is middle-grade historical fantasy/action.

I normally write for adults. I find writing for youth extremely challenging. I ended up opting to write a lightly fictionalized autobiography of myself between childhood and my pre-teen years which centered around my imagination and the fantastical fiction genres which inspired me. In writing about myself I ended up opening a lot of pockets of unresolved grief.

The place I lived between the ages of four and nine was a semi-rural pocket in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where people could have small farms and keep chickens and such. We had a very large yard, a half-acre. Unfortunately, the house was in rather a shoddy condition and cockroaches the size of school buses had a tendency to get inside. The bugs are huge in New Mexico, and I was not keen on that. But I did love the little skinks and horned toads and such. We also had many beautiful plants around such as the honeysuckle vines, and the cicadas would sing us to sleep.

I was a very shy child and did not have many friends. The characters I met in fantasy worlds were my friends, as were my pets and the animals in our yard.

Although I was born in the Western United States and raised in the Southwest for a number of years, my parents were both from New York. When certain relatives would visit, they would ridicule my accent. A New Mexico accent is a bit of an off-Texas drawl. To this day, I bristle whenever anyone askes the seemingly innocent question: "where are you from?" To me, that question is loaded.

Troiku Challenge 2019: Day 5: The Aroma of Pine

Pine Tree

the aroma of pine

and the young morning's fresh rain

reach my words

the aroma of pine

in a place long left behind

shadows of what was

and the young morning's fresh rain

cries the tears that I cannot

heart frozen inside

reach my words

but understand not a one

no-one can know me

~Pirate & Cie~

Notes:

The "sleigh" of this Troiku was written by Hamish "Managua" Gunn, aka Pirate. The three (utterly fucking depressing) Horses of the Apocalypse are my creations. Read them and despair. 

I am in rather a bleak mood today. Please, no comments suggesting therapists, drugs, or any of that sort of thing. That shit doesn't work for me. I just have to work my own way out of it.

Tan Renga Challenge 2019: Day 7: Wisteria

Image Source

In the moonlight,

The color and scent of the wisteria

Seems far away.

As far away I think as

My sense of belonging here

Buson & Cie

Notes:

The Hokku (Haiku) stanza of the poem was written by Yosa Buson (1716 - 1784). The Akegu (closing) stanza was written by me.

I have never felt that I belonged in this world. When I was younger, I always hoped I'd find people I belonged with. There have been a few where I feel like they put up with me to a degree or felt sympathy for me, but I have never had a sense of finding my "tribe." The only person I'm really at all close with is my son. I tend to form only very superficial relationships with other people.

Dinners with my mother are perilous and fraught with small talk. She has never approved of any of my choices, and she knows almost nothing about what is really transpiring in my life.

I am not at all close with the other members of my family. I would not recognize most of them if I passed them in the street.

At this point in my life, I do not wish to party and socialize. I have one friend whom I confide in via email, and that means a lot. This friend lives a few thousand miles away from me, so it isn't as if we could get together for coffee.

I have felt a degree of understanding and acceptance from the people participating in this little Tan Renga challenge, which I usually don't get a sense of during such challenges. 

I usually feel as if I am an outsider who has crashed a party when participating in blog hops, and the general sense is "what is that freak doing here at our exclusive soiree?" Some of the blog hops I participate in are very focused on clothing and fashion although other sorts of posts are allowed, and if you don't think I'm an absolute outlier when it comes to fashion, you don't know me at all. I can't afford nice clothes or even new clothes, and I look like an unmade bed most of the time.

One would think that I would feel more at home with creative blog hops, but I usually don't. I've been surprised by the feeling of peace I've gained participating in this one. Maybe it's just that no-one has attacked me yet. Hopefully, we can do without that happening this time.

Tan Renga Challenge 2019: A Lonely Fire

Image Source

smoldering fireplace

the sweet perfume of burned herbs

loneliness grabs my throat

Am I doomed to be alone

For all of this foolish life?

Chevrefuelle & Cie

Notes:

Chevrefuelle wrote the first stanza (the Haiku) and I wrote the second stanza (the two seven-syllable lines).

NaPoWriMo 2019: Day 18: A Soul Dull and Filled with Pain

I Blinked and the World Was Gone Version 5

Copyright The Real Cie

A life lost and lonely from first cry

A soul not soothed by any lullaby

Days are hopeless, dull, and filled with pain

Till the moment when the unwanted ones are left alone to die

~Cie~

Notes:

The poem style is Rubai. This is a brief poetry form requiring the story to be told in four lines. I believe I have accomplished this.

NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 15 + Poems in April 2019 Day 4 & 15: The Haibun Ballad of Cie

My Eyes Have Seen Version 4

Photoshop Manipulation by The Real Cie

(Yes, that's my big, ugly, Neanderthal forehead)

So, you want to know about me.

My truth will make you uncomfortable. You may end up thinking that I’m lying because surely in modern society, nobody could be allowed to fall through the cracks that much. But you asked, and so I’ll answer as briefly as possible.

I was born in 1965 in Denver, Colorado to a doctoral student in literature who had once wished to travel the country like his hero, Jack Kerouac, and his wife, a former nurse with a degree in fine arts.

My parents had abandoned the church but returned to it when I was seven years old. My then-three-year-old brother and I were baptized and became Catholic.

My bipolar disorder onset when I hit puberty, and I was always misunderstood.

I am fifty-four years old and live in poverty.

If you are broken

If you are damaged or odd

You will be cast out

~Cie~

(Telling it like it is)

Prompt #4

Prompt #15

Notes:

By the way, I do write flash fictions in Haibun form because I like to.

Come at me!

The ending verse was inspired by a quote from the character John River, portrayed by the brilliant Swedish actor Stellan Skarsgard.

In this world, no-one can be different or strange or damaged, or they lock you up.

--John River

Fuck Valentine's Day

Copyright Geralt

To be perfectly honest, I don't give a rip about Valentine's day. I call it chocolate candy day. Then again, every day is chocolate candy day. I don't need a special holiday for it. 
I've been having a bad time emotionally, but I don't need cheering up or anything. I just felt like expressing my grouchy thoughts regarding this silly holiday. 

It's the day before my birthday. Screw my birthday. I wish I wasn't having another one if I'm to be honest. 

No, I don't need to go to the emergency room. If I did that every time I had a suicidal thought, I'd have to live there. 

I'm not going to do anything about it. I'll hang around and be miserable for a while longer. It isn't as if I have the money to do anything better.

Fuck everything.

Cie

OctPoWriMo 2017: Day 28: LONE

Copyright: grandfailure / 123RF Stock Photo

LONE

Lonely

Lonely me

I feel unwanted

I feel undeserving

I fear I'm fatally flawed

LONE, lonely me, fatally flawed

~Cie and Pepper~

Notes:

Here is another work which is autobiographical to the author and also descriptive of Fetch's female protagonist, Pepper Baiij.

I desperately want to get back to working on stories again. I am lost without them.

At least I met Gem on the astral plane while in a troubled sleep that I hoped never to wake from.

In a world that wants sunshine, flowers, chirping birds, and unicorn farts, I bring you depressing poetry. Hence, I walk alone through this life.

~Cie~

Fukitol

Oh, if only there were a Fukitol.

I would be at the doctor's office demanding a prescription for Fukitol.

I would buy stock in Fukitol.

I would stockpile Fukitol.

I would give glowing testimonials about how Fukitol changed my life.

I really need Fukitol!

I think Fukitol is one of those Netherworld things.

Of course, in the Netherworld, no-one needs Fukitol, because it's okay to be your authentic, whackadoodie self. That goes a long way to reducing depression.

In the third dimension, AKA "real" life, there is no Fukitol.

There are only antidepressants and antipsychotics with nasty side effects, and I can't take them because they make me even more fucked than I was before. I did not sign up for Mor-Fukd.

Antidepressants and other such pills are touted as being magic wonder drugs that will take a person from depression to farting rainbows and singing with butterflies.

My experience with one such pill had me jumping up on a counter and preaching and scaring the hell out of my son. With another, I felt like my brain had grown little hands and was trying to pick it's way out of my skull. 

Prozac was different. With Prozac, I was completely flat. I mulled over the idea of cutting my arm, not in a self-injury kind of way, but to see if I could feel anything at all.

It is so dismissive to say to a depressed (or otherwise mentally ill, or grieving, or not fitting well into life in hell) person:

"Have you considered medication?"

Fuck right off with that shit.

Most medications and I do not get along. I react badly to them.

My cousin tried every medication combination humanly possible. She still ended up committing suicide.

Add this to your list of shit not to say to people who are suffering/struggling.

"Have you considered medication?"

Bitch, I am mentally ill. I know all too well about medication, about what it's touted as doing, about what it really does, and about the fact that, for me anyway, the cure is worse than the problem.

I also know that being under constant stress and feeling that no-one will ever understand or care about or believe in you will make anyone, whether or not they are diagnosed as "mentally ill," unhappy. Chronic stress is not a good thing. Being in a constant psychic "war zone" will make anyone "crazy."

Unfortunately, one of the first things to go under circumstances like mine (working an average of 48 hours a week and, not uncommonly 60, and sometimes 72) is creativity. 

I miss telling my little tales, even if only to myself.

I miss being able to think.

I don't like being an automaton.

I have to pay the bills.

If you think $20 an hour will do that in this day and age, think again.

Women on both sides of my family live to an average age of 85. I highly doubt that will be the case with me if things keep going at this rate. Not that I'd want to if they keep going at this rate.

The magazines all glibly tell you that "talking things out with a friend" will help reduce stress.

I have no friends because I am an overworked, socially inept asshole. 

Such magazines are inevitably classist anyway. They are directed at Thin, Pretty, Middle Class, Married White Ladies with 2.5 Reasonably Well Behaved Children, who may be having a bit of a Bad Hair Day. They are not directed at someone in the working class, who is mentally ill, has no support system, and is trying to stay afloat because her adult son, who is high functioning autistic and has agoraphobia and depression, still needs her help.

So yeah--sorry if my Stinkin' Thinkin' offends y'all.

On the other hand, maybe I'm too damn tired to give a fuck.

I really need to get me some Fukitol!

~Cie~

Why Bother Writing When No One Reads What I Write?

I still go through this. Not as often as I used to, but it still happens.

I went through most of my life not being accepted. 

When I first started blogging, I figured that statistically there had to be other people like me out there.

I was both right and wrong. 

There were people who had some of the same interests. However, I was still an oddball.

A person who has never been accepted will sometimes jump through hoops to be accepted, changing everything about themselves, and still find that they aren't accepted.

It was a long, hard road discovering that if I was going to write, I had to do so for the love of what I was writing, not to try and grow an audience and certainly not to try and make people like me.

So, why put it online at all?

In case someone needs to read it.

In case someone wants to read it.

Because I fucking want to.

By the way, if you have a problem with salty language, this probably isn't the blog for you. 

~Cie~