Friday Night Reveling

with a sleepy and tired back and this iron will to get out and get away, I dashed to the car with my child and escaped into the night of nights and sped off for nowhere but peace and the night's air on my skin.Now it is almost dawn and my skin is itching by the few shards of light driving into my bedroom chamber. The night was bliss and marred only slightly.

Few nights are tinged with cool air this time of year without being damp or miserable. Tonight was a clear night and we were hungry and not ready for home. We had only just left and I, loaded with frozen espresso, and she with her colorful ice of choice, we sped off for gasoline and a destination. Alone, at peace and happy. Driving Miss Lobo...hahaha...she loves it. We wound up looking for pizza. It was discussed earlier and the night air had us both a little voracious. I took a scenic route south and passed by a local pizzeria chain and made a u-turn to head back. I now had a plan and it was saucy pie and cool breezy coastal air. Having missed Anclote Park in my quest for food we found ourselves a county away and with food and drink headed to parts not seen in our area. We made it to the causeway and drove down looking to the vast and dark water with a thin line of distant lights suggesting a strand of bulbs strew on the water when in actuality it was a far away beach access and social mecca for the young and old alike. Not the pristine darkness and privacy we had found, and with windows rolled down we ate and listened to music and I watched as my Lobo danced and played in the headlights from our car and searched for shells to add to her treasures. She was barefoot and bent over pulling her jean legs up so as to get in the water a little ways but I warned her that the night creatures are many and the water holds its own night predators, jellyfish pods. So her wandering to wet sand ceased and she played and looked at the stars and it was a beautiful site to see her happy while I sat in the driver's seat listening to music and feeling the winds cool kiss pick up.

Time was slipping by and in my concern for a late Friday with alcoholic troubles at the two o'clock hour I wanted to head back to familiar territory and we still had some shopping for the morning. Again taking the scenic route back we went by the hospital to which she was born and then to a little Greek town and decided to drive around and scope out rentals and "window" shop while daydreaming of our own home someday. We felt perfect and content and ready for what stress going back home held and were circling a pond near center of town and staring at all the beautiful Grecian style homes built there when a truckload of teens decided my car was as good as any to bomb. Car-bombing is a past time that is dangerous. It involves a hard cased paint bomb or other murky medium, and the object is to merely strike another's windshield and laugh your ass off. No one ever sticks around to see if anyone is injured in the making of the frolic adventure for the teens and I was shaken. I swerved and could not see for the paint that covered my visibility on this dark one lane road. I was angry, miffed and pissed. I was also in a small city-township and had a five mile drive or better to the nearest open gas station to clean what was obstructing my view.

The point is my kid thought it was funny. When other kids do things like this it doesn't just have lasting effects on the property damage or lost time but the image it sends to other children younger than themselves. She thought it was fun until I pulled into the station and made her get her head in the driver's point of view so she could see what I couldn't. It was an all too real opportunity to teach and I had "free" models of representation provided by the local hoodlum chapter of Friday night revelers. It was a bitch to clean and a slap in the face considering I had already stopped on my way out and meticulously cleaned my windshield, my washer fluid is broken so I routinely cleaned my windshield the old fashioned way when I was off without a curfew and the adventurous mood struck, and did not want to spread the paint around so was forced to drive with my head almost out the window. On the way to the gas station I pulled over alongside an officer in the town and gave him a general area as to the whereabouts of the perps in the hopes they would stay to the same streets and cause more night's "fun."  It was a good day for her and I and it was marred for an instant by the boredom of youth, and a perfect lesson of disdain to my own youth on how not to behave because what seems fun to you has devastating effects on the ones who have to deal with the mess. All in all a win and she will forever remember the night's adventure, just not the way we intended but still.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Sixteenth Century Editor's Edition

a funny thing happened on the way from the forum. This forum. I get behind and all and need to catch up but it is a longer process now whilst trying to find many things to entertain and educate with. Having the first blog site back I am profoundly getting backed up quicker...so...I took a break naturally!

A Royal Wedding that culminated into an onslaught of tears for me. I watched those two boys grow up, and long before I knew it was wrong to date too much younger, or inappropriate at best, I wanted to be little William's bride to be when the time came. You see I am eleven years older and when those poor boys had to lay their momma to rest I was shattered right along with them. And now it would seem he found himself a beautiful bride, older, to wed and ne'er have I seen a more brilliant couple. Even with his thinning hair he is still dashing with his mother's eyes and hair and his father's stature and teeth and all the staunch of the elite but enough of the self service his mother was known for. Today somewhere in the great halls of the wise ones and the fates that be she sat smiling and went to "war" for her boy to keep the gates closed on the rain that threatened to ruin a most poignant time in his life. The coming to full circle of his grief and the new hope he has found in a graceful beauty, a swan, Princess Katherine. No one dare give just cause when you could see his astonishment at how wonderful she looked in her almost sixteenth century ivory threads. There was no mistaking the "you astound me" or the "you look beautiful" he spoke and the smile that washed the shaken lady's glowing face. Her father had to hold her up even though she held her poise and she gripped his hand so tight I thought she'd shatter his bones until they reached the altar at the Abbey. William's own brother, Harry, couldn't believe the glorious vision of loveliness. A hall worthy of Valhalla itself  ingeniously "wrecked" by beautiful greenery and made to believe Camelot was in full bloom. His father was tall and commanded a certain amount of respect but William is Arthur in my book.

I feel a little old by their youth. I feel a little sad that my Prince Charming has chosen another, and I feel a little sad that it is over and the realization that I may never see their son/daughter at this pinnacle of moments. I can only hope to see the day they crown a common woman queen and her fair groom king and the days the flowers bloom again as they once did for Camelot and the people shall eat meat again and grow fat with happiness. I will even be so bold as to hope they skip his father as he has aged more than his mum and appears all too frail to the task of leading and representing a peoples. Nothing could take this moment from them. Not all the media and the paparazzi and the anarchists that threatened the royal family in the preceding weeks. It was befitting Excalibur and I am a more romantic beast for the fairytale that unfolded before my weary eyes. But just one second...I have one thing that gets me. The kiss...it should have been a man, a powerful man raking his fingers through the long tresses as if to get himself tangled up in her beauty as he tilt her head and explores her mouth with the fervor a moment like this deserves. So as the rest of you watched, I closed my eyes and saw it in it's perfect "Editor's Edition" and that's how I will remember it! Yes, I did finally see the dual kiss kiss they shared and the freshman, almost virgin, attempt to appease their people. I want my romantic ending and not the party but the passion and the carrying off on a white steed into the sunset to his castle that stands taller than the clouds...and so, they did. A future king and his common, radiant queen, side saddle of course, rode in his arms to Camelot!~mobe's love to her all and her all to her love

A Little Sweetness Goes a Long Way

it takes one to know one and today I took one for what it was worth. It was better than a good day and the cosmos seemed to want to play nice for a change. Sure, I know it ain't going to last, but I can enjoy the here and now and live for the moment. And that moment was spectacular!

I don't often celebrate most things "good" or "positive" as they rarely live up to their hype. I have been in an anti-universe of sorts and I am riding this puppy till it drops. It WAS a positive day and I had a clear mind and a clean face and a smile even if my tired ass gives in every now and then. Then it happened. It got...better. He smiled. Not just a he but a sweet he who has enough crass to be believable and enough grace to hold a door open for a woman if even she is a large lady. He was dirty from head to toe *sigh* and wearing work clothes. I liked him and figured it was a good day as he afforded me with enough mental and visual candy to render me a puddle of love into the evening, and, I was content with that. But...it got better-er! He smiled and was playful with my kid and winked and talked to me (TO ME!!) and swore and gloated at being a proud papa and was all sorts of undressed in my mind while his mouth moved and that dimple in his chin was begging me to bite it! He is domesticated enough to fend for himself, articulate enough to actually have dreams (this one is new for me) and simple enough to enjoy the free things in life. He has a sense of humor I can see others not getting but I do. I liked him. From the get go and my kid knew it. She approved and never has before. We talked for twenty minutes and then I knew it was going to be over. I begged myself not to be cheap and forward and hand him my number. I did flirt but it was brushed off with a cool deference and he DID know I was flirting! I was proud of the fact that I didn't throw myself at him and sad because I knew I had to make my appointment real soon and may never see him again. He said he had to go (gulp) and then stopped. It got WAY better-er! He said he liked "this" and asked me if he could give me his number. *bump-bump....bump-bump....bump-bump* I thought I would die. My face flushed thinking about all the naughty thoughts that had transpired while watching and listening to him. I told him sure and started writing mine too and we exchanged smiles and digits and the universe stood on its head and shifted. I was dumbfounded. I even was stupid. I could only muster a barely audible "so you like big girls" and then mentally punch myself in the face! He said he had no preference for looks as they only get you so far and that he did prefer his women with some substance on and off the bones, implying a good head on her shoulders. He also noted in his opinion the thinner women came off as not so smart to him. It happens and though you reading this may not agree I didn't argue with his opinion for he was entitled to it and it wasn't completely flawed. What if they did appear dumber? He acted like I never made the insecure "faux pas" and he doesn't even know what a faux pas is!

Dazed and confused. I held a good conversation with him and my daughter for twenty minutes, and then comes out my insecurity and I couldn't speak! He smiled again and was off and out the door. I don't even remember him going really. And then resumed my appointment and then went to dinner all the while my child harping on me about this guy. She "dug" him and was giving me pointers and pushing me to call him. I told her I didn't want to follow my usual "M.O." and wanted to wait. She said that he offered his number first so I should make contact first seeing as he wanted me to call. I caved during dinner and pulled out the sticky note with the marker scribbling of his first name and number. I programmed it into my phone and then sent him a friendly, but funny text. Then I looked down. He had already called but I hadn't recognized the number and only until I put his name to his number then it appeared. "5:21pm Missed Call" and I deliberately let the call go. Now I felt even more stupid. He texted me to call and I politely told him I won't at dinner because it is rude to other patrons but that I didn't mind texting while eating and even joked I was talented and can handle it. It was safe but my stomach was turning. I felt like I was going to vomit. He kept me in stitches and was cute even in text and funnier on the phone. Soon I would have to face the music and call and my stomach turned again. I am not a "well" person physically. Even mentally, it is a trial for me and a big hill to climb. And he had a right to know. I was happy with the interest and now was vested and have to go through with something and hadn't done any of this in ages. Not sure I EVER did as I was more promiscuous than Heidi Fleiss. But now I don't want to be that way and fail that way again. But this man shook me inside and out and he has never laid a finger on me and that is a dangerous keg of powder to mobe! We talked most of the evening and hooked up via my favorite social network (what a riot that was as it was quite awhile for him, and his name has so many people who share and mine is too obscure and sometimes through the wonderful world of social networks, won't come up on the search) and even chatted. I won't ask myself what is wrong. I won't tell myself to look out. And I won't judge him and categorize him into a little box before I have had a chance to get to know him. This a great deal for me as I tend to run things through too fast and put the brakes on just as fast. I am taking this one slow.

Things happen for a reason. I have been celibate for over a year, depressed even longer. He made me smile and found me attractive and wants to see me again. And as if it couldn't get any more sweeter and decadent...I got carded again, for the first time in a year! I thought it was over and I had graduated to the old people's club and no longer needed to whip out my ID. But there I was trying to prove yes, I was eighteen and can purchase my cancer sticks of choice, hell I am almost forty! And he thought I was younger than he and the cashier thought I was younger than she and the world is upside down like a kid hanging with their legs from the monkey bars at school. The view from up there and upside down is beautiful. All because he smiled...and I smiled.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Leave

so what if I am a heathen and who in the hell are you to even care. I never asked for this conversation in the first place and find it amusing you won't let it go. I am only here because I have something to do here and will be out of your way when I am finished and not when you dictate. It's a shame you've nothing better to do in your day than to read other's messages and mail and make them the center of your universe only to detract and attack the very universe you create. It appears kind of idiotic if you ask me and sad really and unproductive to say the least.

It wasn't as if you weren't warned or that you didn't have a clue. It wasn't as if your entire life was devoid of happiness because of crimes committed against you beyond your control. To me it seems you are a perpetrator and not the victim you so readily play and I can see right through your visage. Your destruction has caught up to you in its final stages now and the mask is off and you are exposed for the monster you play oh so well behind the scenes. Only you never thought it would and thought yourself invincible. It's a shame, really, how many people think they are. When you can walk on two broken legs and breath with half the percentage of your lungs' usage and survive death some dozen times and be torn to shreds to be unrecognizable and still speak and love yourself and think you matter, then come tell me how invincible you are. No one is and I would agree some are close. I consider myself one of them and you, my non friend, are by no means even in the same heaven as that. We truly do reap what we sow and every person has a job in this world and the next. Yours I don't think was to be an annoying abusive ass. I have watched men and women like you break the will of your loved ones time and again and don't get how you think that it is acceptable or deserved behavior.

Have you ever heard of free will? You have it, I have it, they have it. If you don't like someone they way they come then leave. If you don't like the way they evolve then leave and if you don't like their friends or family then leave. Leave them alone and keep yourself out of trouble and find something new that sparks your interest.'Tis all I'm saying tonight.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Only Nightmares

there was this conversation today between two men that I thought quite humorous and funny in a sort of "duh" kind of way. I am still not sure why I changed my mind on actually sharing the details other than to say I just wasn't feeling it by the time I got to sitting down to do this this evening. Between the "mobe meds" and the room clutter and the "to do" list and such I didn't get online to spend anytime interacting with the masses of victims until well, almost about 3am. So you see, by that time I want a good drink "on" and some light background noise, preferably several types at once to be annoying enough to warrant the exhaustion from keeping up with them to take me away to nightmareland.

It's not that I can't have pleasant dreams. I just don't and usually find myself either doing more work in my sleep or fighting off the forces of evil and/or ignorance, or worse yet, burning at the stake for being too cool! I think if I put my mind to it I haven't had a really good fantasy or happy fuzzy bunny dream since I don't KNOW when. And I imagine tonight, your morning, will be no different for me. Sleep and I have been dancing this Waltz for some time now going on four decades. He runs and hides calling "Ollie Ollie All come free!" and I giggle and twitch and toss and turn and ache and have to pee and all other sorts of too much goings on to actually sit and do a drawing of a fuzzy bunny in my sleep. I have some deep seated anger and it showed its ugly head today and I validated it by thinking it was allowable because someone else's was more misplaced than my own. There! I said it...and now I am just prepared for the torrent of vile hate mongering reels of film my head will play while I sleep, if I am allowed a moment's peace from ails and wails.

Essentially it is a never ending story they say, and it is making me sick. It has its good parts and its bad parts and its good parts are when I come out alive. I have recurring dreamscapes and I know what they are telling me and I just don't get why they won't go away and leave me alone. It's not fair. When you decide what you will swallow and what you won't they should leave the rest alone but it seems there are the messages I see and don't give a shit about but some unseen force is hell bent on getting me to concede to. Tonight's viewing pleasure will be a rehashing about my recent holiday in the psyche ward from hell and the avalanche of responsibilities and happenings since that vacation. I want so badly to live and have some semblance of a functionally temperate life and am still merely just surviving. I see myself as a small speck in this world with the capability of nuclear fission. I even sign off in small case letters and such as if it is ingrained in me to see myself as a non capital type of person. I want a low profile but, like all other things, the minute I want it it is a guaran-damn-tee that it isn't going to be as I would hope. "Murphy's Law: Numero Uno" It means whatever mobe wants-someone else gets and whatever mobe doesn't want is heading her way.

I accomplished quite a bit today and felt good about it until the day unraveled. Now I have a task list to do to make up for the unraveling and the goals set to achieve some sort of nirvana if the fates let me. For now my immediate goals are to see if I can get one night a week on some sort of romantic comedy or dark cartoon at least when I sleep in order to maintain balance. Too much disdain makes for a bad girl. All disdain, as in my case, makes for a carbon copy of my mother and we all know how much us gals want to be just like her! I tell you guys I hate everyone equally and in a way I am correct. But it isn't the only facet of me, it is just the one I put forward when I know I don't have a rat's ass chance in hell of anything beyond that. Look at it this way, a pessimist is the person who thinks the sky is falling twenty four seven and spends their day preparing for that impending arrangement. When the sky doesn't fall it is a bonus and a time of celebration after a hard day's work. When it does we are more than prepared. An optimist walks around with their head up their ass, or yours, and thinks everything is roses and is all fuckered up all day when they find out it isn't so. "Say it ain't so, Sam...say it ain't so!" But a realist is one who knows the sky is going to fall, eventually, and is biding their time and making preparations so as to walk away to a safe vantage point and try to find the best seat to watch all the "pessy" and "opty" brats running around wailing and bawling at their logic. Right now I am half-way between pessimist and realist with the realist being the goal. It is hard and if the damn roof did cave in on me every second, I'd be at my goal by now but I just cannot trust it and feel it is my personal chore or task to warn everyone else to stand clear and hold the sky up like Atlas. I am getting old for my species and this shit on my shoulders is heavy and no one wants to grab an end or even hold the frigging door open for me to go into the lobby and sit a spell and I have no one to blame. And now, I am unraveling piece by piece trying to figure out where I went wrong and put it back together correctly. Arduous. Simply arduous.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

She Knows Who She Is!

it's always a good day when a good friend comes back to herself and remembers those who love her best! It is like watching a most delicate rose reopen with a morning kiss and the sun shining upon its petals and more special that second time around because you know how hard it was for her to come this far out of the dark!

Even more rewarding is when she brings along another rose, kin, and adds to your hope-chest of friends and family and the comraderie is worth a thousand Fort Knoxes anyday! I hope the idiot that brought her to his knees knows what a beautiful and special creature he lost and is miserable to his dying days as he reads what disdain he has evoked in her sister. For I am her thorn in your side and as I am her iris, she is the poisonous sap to those that oppose me! We are special treasures that "bite back" and defend our own places in the Garden of Life and each sweet and lovely and worthy in our own right. She doesn't even know that I am writing this as I was supposed to head to bed and realized that things just needed to be said. I am proud of my sweet dark rose that is my sister in life-my "jewels"-and so happy she is pulling through as I knew she would because she is stronger than the back he made bend(or try to! *teehee)...I love you Julie, my sister, my friend~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Community Hospital Behavioral Health Unit: Day 3-2, conclusion

In other news, it would appear the triage nurse neglected to do her job to the best of her ability and utilizing protocol to ensure the safety and proper treatment of the hospital's patients. My brother had informed me the first night about her being so busy when I first came to the facility and how she prattled herself about telling people left and right that I came in and wanted to kill my kid. Spreading her mis-information around like a bad disease. I didn't pay much heed at the time he said it as I was already upstairs and didn't think it mattered and thought her a busy-body, until this morning after the ordeal with my roommate and her doctor and the "plum fairy" and all. But after discussing yet again with the psychiatrist assigned to me about my ill state of mental health I soon came to the realization this "bitch of a bitch" had put that exact information in my chart. I was asked about my release request and was asked in turn if I had any more suicidal thoughts. I politely told Ms. Cuddeback that I wasn't in the mood to fight and we should be honest with one another. That this wasn't working for me and wasn't conducive to helping me and that yes, I did indeed have those thoughts but knew she had no wish at this point to help me. She agreed fair enough and then proceeded again to grill me about harming my child and I was patient with her, feeling guilty for unleashing my frustration the day before at having been asked that same question no less than fifty times, and told her again just like everyone else that when I came in it was under the advice of my treating psychiatrist who WAS going to Baker Act me with my consent, but felt no need to because I came willingly. I told her exactly what I said to the doctor and how he instructed me to tell them about my conversation with him so I can get treated and nip these feelings in the bud. I did tell the lady about joking with my doctor about how I wasn't "so bad" as I was some ten or more years earlier when I USED TO have thoughts of offing Laurel as well so as not to abandon her and leave her behind and that I felt I had come a long way now not having those thoughts and never having acted on them.(now think...if he had thought me a threat himself he would have called CPS right then and there and Baker Acted me immediately but he did not. He also doesn't have privileges at that hospital so those of you who think he may have set me up I believe to be wrong and still respect and admire the man for looking after my well being and not judging me and giving me exemplary help over the course of the last almost two years.) She looked at me and said that isn't what my chart said and I instantly knew that the triage nurse was not only not doing her job but also had compromised my home, my well being and my character by her assassination of me and her interpretation of what I said. She is merely a triage nurse and not a doctor and has no right to "interpret" what I say and was responsible for writing everything that I told her, as I told her and not what she thought I meant. I immediately told Ms, Cuddeback that her chart was lying and the fucking bitch who wrote it wasn't doing her job. I reiterated to her that if I so wanted I COULD get that notarized paper stating the fucking sky was puce but that didn't mean it was true and she should know well enough considering my state and intelligence that I have never once in fifty "grillings" swayed from my story, the truth, and that this blasphemy had repercussions. She breathed in and asked me what I intended to do if she let me out and I told her continue to see the three COMPETENT mental health professionals on my tab and to seek more help and guidance from properly trained people as to how to control the thoughts, as there hadn't been any deeds. Not in over fifteen years. She also asked me about how I used to think about doing myself in and I told her in detail and then told her why I couldn't ever go through with it once Laurel was in the picture, just as I had told my regular psychiatrist, because I was so afraid if I had drugged her and myself and I died and she didn't that she would be forced to live without both parents and with whatever damage the drugging cost her as well as the stigma of her mother's abandonment and mercy-killing attempt on her life along with a father none too willing to be there when she needed or asked. I could never guarantee and had rationalized that a LONG TIME ago and quelled those thoughts and they only came up in jest to point out how well I thought I was doing as opposed to then! She told me she would release me, as I threatened to be a nuisance and thorn in her side for the upcoming holiday and knowing full well that she would because we loved each other so much. She knew I wouldn't benefit from them any further and knew she had no designs on helping me, none of them did.

Now this nurse had a big responsibility in that she sees all ailing people the minute they come in desperate and looking for aide. Her main responsibility in that is to record EVERYTHING and what the person says and their chief complaints and in my case, to determine if I was a threat to myself and needed the observation by a medical and psychiatric doctor to determine if I truly needed the inpatient treatment that would benefit me. Not only did she fail to document the truth of why I was there correctly, but her action (or failure of) and her own perverse head-hunting misconception about what I needed sent a domino-effect chain of events that led to my being held against my will on a voluntary check-in, watched and treated inhumanely as a predator and criminal, as well as the disruption of my brother's (and mine and Lobo's now) home and good name and my good name. This led to me not being treated fairly or for the purpose of what I came in for to begin with as a responsible adult with a serious problem/illness and also, led to the prejudgment of me by her peers and the shunning I received. I wonder how many other charts she fuckered up and how many other lives as well. Was actually pondering that when the doc had informed me she already called CPS, AGAIN on me this time, and felt I would be a threat to my own child and possibly kill her eventually and myself, but it was out of her hands now as we were both in agreement there was nothing she could do besides try and re-Baker Act me over and over and keeping me a hostage while violating my civil rights. I started to cry and held back my tears and for the first time had not one single suicidal thought. I wanted to fix all of this and wanted to start with a "postal momo" that they would never forget, and then, I let the thought go and walked to her station and asked her for a grievance form. She was shocked, mortified really, and walked back to my room while everyone had their midday meals and proceeded to write my letter. Then in walks a man in a dark long-sleeved button down shirt and he had his hand in his back pocket and for the briefest of instance, I thought he was reaching for handcuffs and I finally burst into tears. He knelt beside me and calmed me down and I realized he was the investigator and he started to inquire my side of the story after telling me he just left my home. I told him everything, just as I am telling you and even the little insignificant shit you wouldn't think mattered and explained the whole ordeal about the original call from the therapist the night before about my brother being unfit because I considered his boisterous hollering a "stressor" (when pumped for dirt to try and get my kid away from me by the therapist). I told him I don't fear my brother and that I was only explaining to her having been abused by Lobo's dad and him yelling in the same way when he was angry triggered old fears and emotions but in no way did I consider him a bad father, brother or uncle and trusted him with my daughter's care while in here trying to get the help I felt I so desperately needed. She was asking me about stressors and such for future dischargement arrangements and to make sure I had a safe place to go home to-so she said. He said I didn't have to worry at all about that portion of the case as it has been closed and told me he met my beautiful daughter and that he has some concerns but not enough to warrant removing her from my care. I showed him my journal and the grievance letter I was in the middle of writing and for the first time someone, he, asked me how I was going to get myself better about the suicide so it doesn't have a lasting and damaging effect on my kid. I told him I was working on it and I already (years ago) spoke to my kid openly from day one about any and all issues to ensure that it didn't and that she was made aware of mommy's mental sickness and "notions" of her death and mine a long time ago and that we both were currently in counseling. Her for her grief at my poor health and coming to terms with me dying and the misplaced guilt she feels because she will outlive me with the same disease I am dying from and me for all my grief and torment. I told him I already have a standing appointment with my therapist every Wednesday and that I see my Psychiatrist and other doctor of mental health once a month. I promised him I would get back in with my psych and tell him about this mess of events and that I would keep in touch with him, the investigator (happily-too damn bad he's married 'cuz he's a cutie pie!), and if at any time I felt I was sinking again I will check myself back into the former facility and not this one. I asked him if he needed to notify my child's father and offered him his number so as to cooperate and not impede his job and he said there will be no report filed so no need to and that what was important was that I get help. No one has ever put me first or understood me and yielded to me without acting as if they lost a war. He did warn me he felt I still wouldn't get out of the place and bade me to cooperate if only just to get out of there and get proper aide and I told him that the doctor signed my release as I knew she would. He was a little shocked and made me sign a safety contract and told me I had an interesting brother and that I had done a good thing to sign a letter turning over temporary custody to him, before I left, in case she needed medical attention or something, to my brother's credit for asking me to do so. Between that letter and my love of writing so much that I felt necessary to keep that damn journal while trying to get help, to selfishly present it to you in my blog, had been all the proof he needed, to know I am not nor ever will be a threat to my kid. And he told me it is high time I learn not to be a threat to myself because not absolutely everyone is out to get me and he gave me his work and cell number if I ever needed to talk and winked and left.

Talk about proud! (and relieved) and pissed. I finished that goddamn grievance letter and turned it in and asked to use the phone to let my brother know that everything was fine and they said no. Ten minutes later a woman showed up with about a million apologies to me and started my outtake process and told me I would be going home as soon as the charge nurse gathered my things from the downstairs safe (IDs and such) and my contraband (smoking stuff and meds) from the unit's bins and that I can call for my ride. I wonder what those people on staff think about their policy and their procedures and their misjudgment of me and how their inability to "listen" to their patient will affect them in the future. I wonder what they think of their co-worker who ruined my "help" and my name, but not to the point I couldn't fix it. Several patients did not get the treatment they deserved or needed. The system failed because of human error and the need to persecute and find fault where none lies and the all too quick gaveled hand of people, based upon the mass-media of current events as they unfold like the mothers who recently made headlines because of killing their children. I understand the need for caution but there isn't a need to create a monster where there is none so you can hunt him/her down and exact justice and receive your fifteen minutes of fame when the camera pans to your happy and cheery face and you exclaim "I knew it because she had this look about her and I could tell right away she would do it and we just needed to get that kid to safety and I want to thank my mother for bringing me up right with the television as my babysitter and my husband for abandoning me and leaving me with nothing better to do than to piss on the people who are my job to aide.." And now, there are some fifty plus people who still may or may not think I am going to kill my kid and hope something bad happens to me first. Maybe even more if they all went home that first day and just told one person and they told one person and they....thinking I am going to knock off my kid who I have sacrificed everything for and owe my life to for had she not been here and mine all mine, I would have killed myself a long time ago. Imagine that! Your Miss Mobe killing her princess Lobo! (You guys know better!!)

The truth is the system is designed to fail because, and I have been saying this a long damn time and will continue to do so until everyone starts reading on the same damn fucking page...., if doctor's got everyone "better," then where would they work? If social workers got everyone off of welfare, then what would they have as a job? If cars and machines were built properly the way genius minds like myself and others' think, then when would we ever need to buy a second car/stuff, and what will the occupations do for a living. Heads up! It is ALWAYS going to fail because we created these systems to invent new jobs so as to not have to till land and sew clothes and speak to people properly the way it was intended and keep livestock. I did many things right without even trying and it saved my ass from a fate worse than death that would have had me foaming at the mouth and dead in a corner of my brother's house within ten minutes of them removing the one most precious thing in the whole fucking world to me, My beautiful daughter and princess to all the regality our heritage holds, of ancient and unworldly bloodlines who has fire and spark and intelligence and humor and darkness all her own and embraces it too, just as her mother does and isn't afraid of getting kicked around because like her mum, she likes a good fight and we play to win!

Cover your asses my children, document (whether it is a piece of paper that means nothing to you and I) and make sure you are honest. With yourself and them as I was, it does prevail. And the guilt you collect will always be a debt you can never repay back and it will poison your mind and infect your souls. Not only do you document everything, challenge everything and keep yourself informed of your health and medical issues and the laws governing your rights. No one else will do it for you. Listen to your bodies! Doctors are there to AIDE you in keeping you healthy and making you well and have to INTERPRET what ails you based on what you know about yourself and what you say about it. Look how long and who originally diagnosed my EPP...ME! It is called a PRACTICE for a reason as they are continually failing the quizzes they get and in my case, the final exams too. Same goes for the legal and financial worlds...Today a weakened and battered woman saved herself, her kid and her sanity and fought off one of her demons alone, if only for a short while until the next battle, and considers this a well deserved triumph in the face of adversity!~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

*note: Only one person was harmed in the making of this tragedy, me. Unlike myself who is aware of the ramifications of my actions, they did not know the damage to which they had caused and for me that is another win as they will not know unless reading this now by pure luck and won't gain any sick happiness from it. Remember the thrashing because of the lack of medications administered? Well all that thrashing had loosened some ligaments in one of my two broken knees and when I woke up and swung my legs to get out of their bed this morning, it buckled and dislocated, immediately going back in. I did not tell a soul and did not feel safe either for fear they would have kept me away from my kid another day out of guilt while half-assed trying to fix it. I did not trust them. I suffered through it, even limping to the phone and no one gave a damn so what good would telling them be? Also, not having my medications and an all to celebratory mood, I took my nieces and my Lobo to dinner and then to Walmart and now (GRAPHIC PHYSICAL EXPLANATION ALERT) some six hours later am evacuating my stomach and intestinal lining from the toxins that have flooded my system in the last few days and the lack of proper nutrition. My fecal matter is pure prophyrin liquid (not good) and black stool telling me that I am bleeding internally from my old ulcers and been exposed to too much light in the last few, again to which I have medication for and been without for several days. Even in the battle I received some scars making my sacrifice a testament to what she, my little girl, means to me and I wear them bravely and proud. I will be righted sure enough by the end of next week as far as the internals go because I know what my body needs and don't need to run to an MD every time something goes awry, and will be limping for some time longer as I am older and dislocations do take longer than before to tighten back up the ligaments-to which I will exercise and do calisthenics to achieve almost to where it was. It will take me some months and between healing with a grin and getting a lawyer, to practice on them, and fighting to keep my insurance, I have a full plate of "yes ma'am I am AWESOME!" lmao...glad to be back and missed you all almost as much as my cats and my kid! *giggles

Community Hospital Behavioral Health Unit: Day 2-2, 3-1

I am a nightsider. I have always been a nightsider and long before my diagnosis knew I had to live by weak lamplight and share in the glory of the night life. No amount of sunshine or warmth will ever calm a heart meant to be cold and dark. I embrace this. For one thing, I am not broke and am perfect by design, just not for the sunny fishbowl of humanity. I am content with this fact and get so steamed and angry because most everyone feels I should think, feel, eat, sleep and fuck exactly as they do! I even posed a question to the dismay of the psychiatrist tin the facility as well as others in the past: "Do you expect the fishes of the seas and waters to suddenly walk out onto dry land and become air breathers and dance and sing for you and your personal entertainment?"...to which of course they disregard and refuse to answer knowing full well what my intent in asking was. They think I am being silly. Mobe is silly but truthful and pissed off. And how silly is it to treat everyone exactly the same regardless of their individuality? We aren't the same and though the "inmates" offenses were similar (self harm), our reasonings and why's were very, very different.

So I am belligerant, proudly, and I am even caustic in my effortless manner to ward off unwanted attention especially from strangers. Seemingly, it is hard for them to conceptualize a person who is justifiably unhappy and has found their own niche, accepting and even embracing it for what it is. At least I am consistent in my behavior and thinking towards all humans. And, I hold no disdain for my child or my companions of the four-legged variety.

If a duck wants to wade in water per his natural instinct and you move him far away from pond or creek, he will eventually gravitate and/or adapt to whatever water source he can find even if he has to teach himself to turn on an outside tap to your house. He may even fill a rain gutter with leaves to make a sort of bird pond in the open pipe, but he will adapt. All creatures and living things adapt. Adapt or die. Plants will grow towards the slightest of light sources when one is not in the immediate vicinity because they need it and that is how they adapt. As much as I appear human I am a night creature and all the learned idiots in this world will never make me anything but. They can force me to live by their days' standards but in the end will find a perished soul, just as if they tried to make a parrot breathe underwater indefinitely. They need to quit fixing things that just ain't broke!

A Fleeting Life

a fleeting life is the one I live, like shards of light through a baker's sieve
 a plucked flower that will thrive for awhile, dark night blooming jasmine along the patio tile
no matter how hard and troubled you find, that my short "sentence" causes no rift of mind
 it is the essence and beauty that forever stays there, when the last petals are gone into nothingness air
not a bird or a fish or a beast or tree, you can't change or mould or transmogrify me
 for there's no true sadness or misery in knowing one's course, and holding fast to it tightly through it
 when threatened by force
when the last bud has bloomed and spent what it renders, giving all that it had contained to the onlooking senders
 then the life by daybreak shall be snuffed and put out, a fleeting life of solace, quiet without grief or shout.

I miss my kid. There has always been room in my daily thoughts for her even when I am ill of mind. When I spoke to her she was all motherly and hoping I will come home, but not without me cooperating with everyone here so as to get better. I just wasn't put here to give a damn about everyone else's problems and have been told many times in the past that I care too much about others and need to start putting my own needs first for a change. Trying isn't enough and explanations never satisfy anyone. No one understands my limitations and most all of them are in some state of shock, awe or disbelief. I must admit, it is a hard pill to swallow when first heard that the things you read about that go bump in the night do exist and that most of what you read was ignorant misinterpretation and it leads people to believe the untruths more because they have heard them for far longer and they are now imprinted on the minds and subconsciousnesses of everyone. So, even if I tell these people right now that I want to go home, I will still have a twenty-four hour wait to which I opted for-I'm gonna take my chances despite the disencouragement and brutal fear they tried to strike in me by telling me they still can hold me against my will. I signed a release for myself and have to wait the time frame for the doctor to okay it, and if she chooses not to, SHE can Baker Act me against my will. My kid needs me and being away from her is killing me, and the therapist who is supposed to help me, by calling the child protective services on something innocuous that I told them under confidentiality that wasn't anywhere near as damaging as the lies she told the CPS investigator, is killing me too and has caused problems back at home for my brother that I feel I need to fix. I never intended for that to happen and now am so confused how all of this has gotten out of hand.

To make matters worse on my second night in mental prison hell, the air conditioning went kaput at the hospital for our wing and the birthing floors and OB/GYN wards beneath us. It went out after lunch today and has slowly been getting hotter and hotter and now twelve hours later the heat is getting the natives restless. We have had two outbursts and "conflicts" from senior citizen women unbecoming to their nature even for the mentally ill. I am in the "older person" part of the BHU ward because of my poor health, weight and disease. It never fails and I have grown accustomed to being constantly around the dead or the nearly dead anyways. Right now, at this very moment, a man just had a seizure from heat stroke and instead of transporting these elderly patients to a different location to keep them safe they are mocking and discussing in the hall how funny it was because he came to having delusions. This guy almost died as they couldn't find his vitals and he kept slipping in and out of consciousness and then the alarms went off. This heat is getting to us all and making us agitated and I myself do not bear well in extreme heat because I feel thermal-nuclear all the time anyway.

From noon yesterday until five this morning we had no cool air and I was thrashing most of the night as my legs did not want to settle down and allow me sleep. Finally getting rest after complete and total exhaustion around six, I was woken up abruptly by an argument between my older roommate and her psyche doctor promptly at seven thirty. It seems she has a prescription for pain medication, a level one narcotic but legal for her, because of  compound multiple fractures she has suffered to one foot and is in a boot. But she's been here longer than my now three days and they continually have refused her her medication despite her own doctor faxing in the consent and a copy of her current prescription on file. The psyche doctor had lost his license to administer level one narcotics and so was afraid to let her have them on his say so. So to hell with the patient. He did try to get pain management to sign off on it but they refused to do so deferring to him as her treating doctor "in house"...nice right? So here sits someone's mother, grandmother, kid, wife, neighbor in agony and trying to get herself better and they seem to be making her life more miserable and wanting to off herself. Then I heard the doctor tell her...wait for it...wait for it....he will SIGN HER OUT SO SHE CAN GO HOME AND MEDICATE HERSELF! The woman was in there voluntarily and really felt vulnerable and was at least going to group, which I was not, trying to get help and eating in general population, which I was not, and here I am listening to this whole ordeal and hearing this woman cry and trying to go to sleep! (and you all know I can't NOT hear it or care even if I want to because mobe don't operate that way despite her desire to do so) Then some few minutes later in walks this glorious creature of god about the age of me own mum and she is the "last resort" they have to offer to send in to try to coerce me to eat. Maybe they are worried if I don't at least eat one meal before being discharged they will be frowned upon. Her method, kindness where no one else had shown any. She proceeded to make a "deal" with me considering they had finally looked my disease up and told me how much she adored fat people and if I wasn't discouraged by fear of rejection about my weight and made the effort, she would make sure the lights are off so I can go eat with the rest of the pack. Much to her dismay I told her I don't care how many fat people she loves and I told her I don't like people at all and never have. That sent her "majesty the plum fairy" reeling and then I squinted and asked her who in the hell told her I ate when I hadn't eaten the whole time there thus far nor have eaten since Monday. She was abashed at my forwardness and cruelty in no sparing of her kindness and quickly decided it was a good day to leave the patient in 9B alone! FINALLY, someone who gets it!!!...tbc.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Community Hospital Behavioral Health Unit: Day 1-2, 2-1

...so mobe is in the cuckoo house and doesn't get to make her own decisions! I have retained my dignity and been allowed to keep a journal only not with my own pen and pencil. Instead they have removed the plastic ink-fills out of ballpoint pens and encased them in oxygen tubing for fear that someone will stab someone with a hard pen. It still has a point and any re-re with a fair amount of competence can utilize them to stab an eye or ear or some other dangerous part of the body to wound. I'm not complaining and it's far better than none or the "crayon trip" of a lifetime. I am here on the second floor and it's been assumed that my welfare is being looked after and cared for. It's not fun in the least to have to twirl for a stranger in your underwear so they can note your scars, marks, tattoos and injuries. I know they have to do this to cover their own ass and I am compliant. I was brought the usual "wash-bin intake gift" with soaps I am allergic to and clothes and towels and tissue and two tubes of "sparkle fresh" toothpaste...note: WAMPHYRII DO NOT SPARKLE! There was no brush and/or comb because I might "groom myself to death" and I didn't care. I showered before hand and I only wash my hair once a week because of how long it is and the fact that I keep it up 24/7. Sleep would be an enemy of mine, this evening, with all the worry of the future and the loathing for the prison I am in and the one I am trapped in in my mind. My legs would deceive my weaknesses as they always did, and I would find little comfort in the adjustable bed. I am allergic to the sun and most artificial light as you all know or should know by now, so naturally, I have been giving the window seat on this "flight" and the door seat is lit up like a NYC runway at La Guardia ensuring to cover any portion of me that hasn't gotten it's lifetime dose of the poison that is daylight to me, yet.

People here are real put out by intelligence. Most individuals are like me, on the suicide train headed no where but blindly follow or violently disagree with their care. I am and will continue to be an integral part of my own care in a rational and involved manner and not allow anyone to mess this up. It is who I am. I spent most of yesterday in this hospital and the only medication I received was not my own and given to make me sleep and calm so as not to bother their banter. Several individuals had gone over the neatly written list of medication and indications I brought with me to make their jobs easier, yet no one recognized my need for my anti-inflammatories for the evening, hence the thrashing and pain and inability to win some sleep. Dawn is now breaking and I find myself awake at a time I would be bedding down at home and I am hungry and in pain. But I know I cannot eat having not had my medicine despite me telling them two of my meds are for the purpose of starting the machinery up. I don't recognize any of the faces from last night signifying they have changed the guard, and am now stuck with the unwanted task of reiterating all over again my medications and special needs. I will give one hat's off to them in that instead of being put in general population in the psyche ward, they did place me in "geri-ville" where the elderly and feeble are that have come here for their own mental help needs. Nothing like repeating one's self some fifty or so times in less than twenty-four hours to make one's mood a brighter day! And it's funny how when explaining to someone in the medical field about your grief and depression they always assume you were violated or abused. Maybe we all were or most of us, and I surely was in the past but it did seem that every question was "who raped you" and "did anyone ever abuse you" and I am fully aware what role those two questions have played in my mental instability. I just find it crude to assume I was as if every single person who likes watermelon and fried chicken comes from the south and is a black person who was beget from the slaves of old. It is inaccurate and I am sure there are some people who haven't been violated in that manner who need professional help.

These problems we all have and have had a hard time sorting through them. Mine are not unique or special but have their own devastating effects on my psyche as do others', and no matter how hard you fight and push there will always be a force pushing you back further into your hole. I wonder if life itself wants to keep some of us down to perpetuate a continuity of sorts so that it has its own lasting legacy. My chest hurts from heaving and sobbing in my sleep over the worry and "grets" of the day. I am not here to make friends or play cards, I am sure of this and really have no desire to do so as these are not my people and once I leave it will highly be unlikely I will ever really see them again. My personal pain is mine to bear and I have no use for groups and have a low tolerance for their issues as they have their own crosses to bear. I have no wish to be social and feel no need to discuss my personal affairs with anybody other than the nurses and staff who are trained to help me find my way back. Unfortunately I got put into  "bin" with my cigarette's paraphernalia and they think all fat, red-headed, sick, angry, intelligent, EPP, suicidal/homicidal women can be fixed with the same one solution across the board. The system is broke and flawed kiddies, tremendously. And its flaws are "designed" to BE THERE and not by accident. I have no wish of contact because I am in my unhappy place, and singing karaoke badly with a bunch of elderly misfits who need help like I do isn't going to help me. I don't want the burden of giving a shit about them when I am trying to dig myself out of my own shithole! I am not being mean, it is an integral part of who I am considering I know what I need, if even I cannot myself provide it. So, because I refuse to play nice with everyone's else's grandparents and give a damn about them, I am considered outside some theoretical spectrum of normalcy and also considered a problem to solve or fix, considered broke. DUH! I am broke and need fixing, but not the same kool-aid and cookie bullshit I got at the last nuthouse!

Every cell in my body is crying out to be left alone. I want to be left alone and just don't trust a single soul to respect that. I wanted to be left alone when my own mother took to hand the rendering and beating of my flesh to surrender to her will! I wanted to be left alone when the babysitter (male) that my parents left me and my older sister in the care of decided it was about time this eight year old learn what fucking was about! I wanted to be left alone when most of my family, my "loved" ones, opened their mouths over and over in the course of four decades to defamate me and assassinate my character unjustly and wrongly! I wanted to be left alone when driving to and from work and perverts would drive up along side of me to hit on me and ask me what my bra size was and if I would show them my titties! I wanted to be left alone when teenagers and strangers and their children would mock me or gesticulate their loathing of my self appearance, without any provocation on my behalf as my body grew larger as I ate less because of my disease! Now I am in a place where I should be left alone and watched and tutored and cared for and they find it their sworn duty to bother me continually and try to force and coerce me into "sharing" what has been a painful and very dark personal experience for me. So smart, and they leave me alone with a wooden chair I could snap with little to no effort despite my disabled state and stake my own heart with the shards of wood long before they knew what happened or how to prevent it! I just can't have television or a phone or a clock and am not allowed to be alone excepting when "they" want me to be. I don't like people and I don't trust them and this is the reason. They just aren't logical and they don't make sense.

I trust them even less if they are educated because they think that little piece of paper framed on their wall gives them the right to look down upon the rest of us and frankly, friends, I could write a writ of diplomacy and declare the sky is always puce in color and get it notarized as a valid document but it still wouldn't be worth its paper to wipe your asses with nor would it be true! I wasn't "designed" for this world is the least of it! Outside of my kid, who despite the love and kinship I have for her and still manage to avoid at most times so I can have my solace, there is no other person really that I would risk life and limb to protect and nurture save innocent babes who cannot defend themselves.(and by babes I mean kids-wiseguys!) I don't have any real need of companionship for the most part and find people in small doses is just fine with me. I am the Episcopal version of agoraphobic. It's that simple. And would any of you feel any different had your whole support system betray you time and again and those you are to love and respect be the real monsters in your life? I have tried to get along well enough only to get kicked in the cunt time and again by the very community and family who I should trust above all others and seek out in my time of need. And I didn't get this way over night! I have been this way ever since I was a child of thought, ever since my own family's rejection and absolute punishment for not fitting in. C'est la vie doesn't begin to cut it. C'est mon vie! And now I have to repeat it over and over and over verbally to one person after another as if the telling of my truthful tale with strike the listeners with stupidity. "Quiz at eleven!"

It's supposed to make me happier and no matter how sunny it is and how warm it appears to be outside, there will always be those of us NOT designed to share in the joy of such things...tbc~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Community Hospital Behavioral Health Unit: Day 1-1

you all know I went off the grid these last few days and it should come as no surprise that I would be candid enough to share my experiences. This is intended for knowledge, entertainment and for my own self awareness. I am not at liberty to "have to" discuss what I am about to divulge to you, but in true "miss mobe" fashion, I feel it only fair to bring you the truth...and humbly hope you see it for what it is and learn from it...

Tuesday I had a routine visit with my psychiatrist where we talked about the past and present and future as we always do. We discussed several things to include my ongoing fascination with suicide which is something that has been an integral part of my life since early childhood. I even joked about it with him and laughed as having thoughts about it is better than doing it, or worse, taking my kid along for the ride. The joke was how far I had come from wanting to off her and I to just me. Now I know there has been much media attention to mothers who off their kids lately and this did not stem from them. As I have stated in a previous blog I can empathize with them, though I don't agree with them having no options, as I once entertained the idea myself when I had found I had no community and support system. I "USED TO" worry about what would happen to Lobo if I DID do the deed and deduced that if I ever got that backed into a corner, I would take her with me. She was small and couldn't fend for herself and it was something I ONLY THOUGHT of and never acted out or tried to do. So there I was explaining this to my respected, yes by me, psychiatrist along with the laundry list of things that have brought the suicidal thoughts to the forefront again and he told me he wanted to Baker Act me. I agreed knowing that I was in a bad state and needed some TLC to get me through this time and back on track. I did not act on my thoughts but do dwell on them time to time and the urge to think about it was too prevalent to focus on things I should have been focusing on. I didn't put up a fuss. He gave me the option to wait until the following day so as to get my affairs in order and look after my kid so long as I could guarantee to him I wouldn't be alone. My brother was home and being a nurse understood where I was at and was a little put out at the untimely-ness of my deluge and still stepped up to the plate to look after my kid and my affairs. On Wednesday morning after a long nightmare-full evening, he drove me to the hospital. I had called ahead to my doctor's office as I was instructed to do, so they can alert the ER that I was coming...and then the system failed, yet again.

I want people to know what is wrong with society and government and lawyers and ex spouses and so on to include the healthcare system, so now I will give to you, via several blogs so as to not flood you, my account of what happened and how the system is not designed to fix anything. This is a journal I kept in the nuthouse and things that transpired during and after, here at home and there at the facility:

4/20/11
couldn't sleep last night knowing full well the uneasy and unsure that lies ahead. The last time I checked into a mental health facility was a disaster. I tossed and turned for hours on end and pain was my constant companion. I awoke at five in the morning to a still "dead" house devoid of activity and fell back to "nightmareland" shortly thereafter. By ten o'clock it was game on and I proceeded to shower and gather my things and assign my affairs to my brother. Lobo had inherited the next few days off because I was riddled with guilt and did not want her to face the taunting of the other students while she grieved my temporary loss from the household. So my little princess helped me get ready and with tear-stained eyes told me she loved me and to get better and I left. It killed me, to hear her say she loved me knowing I still had these ideas of not wanting to exist killed me well into the evening. It's eleven at night and it still kills me when I think of the look of hopelessness on her face. I am glad though, because it fuels me to want to get this right this time. I'm just not sure I can as I have no faith in the system. Now my brother had driven me to where I am now after I notified her father that I was away and that her still had his visitation access, and the psychiatrist's office. Oddly enough I was told and supposed to have been Baker Acted but my doctor seeing that I went agreeably and willingly, saw no need to do so. We got to the hospital at noonish this day and it took forever to get to triage. Like all places there were no chairs in the waiting room for fat, sexy bitches with "all too wide" hips so I borrowed the security guard's chair without sides as there was no one on duty at this time. Twenty minutes later he returned with a trainee in tow and made some sniveling remark and both chuckled then he approached me and gestured to vacate his seat. He was rude, by any standard and though he hadn't stuck up his middle finger, he might as well had for his demeanor was that of a typical "rent o cop" in that it went straight to his head. Needless to say the disabled, mentally unstable, middle aged female patient yielded the seat to an irascible, no-count, bald-headed (not that it's a crime) asshole with a patch and not a badge!

It took another fifteen minuted before triage got their shit together and brought me and my brother to the back of the ER in a hallway and started asking me routine questions. She took my vitals and asked me why I was there and I retold her the conversation I had with my esteemed doctor and how it was his wishes that I be Baker Acted. I did not know at the time I wasn't going to be. Some fifteen people kept coming in and asking me why I was there and my stress level was reaching its limits as they should have all known per the triage assessment. They all asked the same thing over and over as if a collective mass of ignorance had struck all the medical staff dumb. I was led to a bare room with two gurneys and placed there under the watch of a CNA who would continually ogle me and lear at me like I was a criminal for needing help. She insisted I wasn't allowed to wear my street clothes and and that they weren't good enough even when I got upstairs to the ward but felt it was okay for an obese disabled woman with two hospital gowns on that were too small and looking like a clown was appropriate. I refused and told her unless you can find a suitable gown that covered my ample self I would remain clothed as per my right and if they didn't like it they can "force dress" me if they dare. Thye knew they weren't messing with someone without a brain and they knew I knew they knew it. It is routine for vagrants and drug addicts looking for three hots and a cot to claim suicidal to get a meal and a bed. I don't want a meal but the bed I have resigned was a good idea.

People think that because you are depressed that you must be uneducated, stupid, lazy, whiny, with poor hygiene and a death wish. The truth is sane and well to do people of high intelligence and education get depressed. They get to where they just cannot take anymore gut punches from life and either want to, try to or succeed at ending their grief by any means necessary. I have wanted to die since I was a little child. Life wasn't good to me and I have thought about and/or fantasized about the world without me in it or how I would do it. By my own hand or others and even thought about other's deaths as well. People just don't get how "UN" unique that is. All creatures dwell on their mortality or death and humans have had one of the greatest fascinations with it. Look at the media and arts and literature and all else human. We look for more macabre ways to provide the "shock and awe" of the final blow.

So. after a conversation with the ER Behavioral specialist, a likable dark man of decent height with a little of grey pocking his tightly cropped facial and cranial hair, I was given over to "Ativan" to calm my nerves and affording me a little rest. I personally think the intention was for me to sleep as I was crying and not the least bit hyper or uncooperative. I do recall the CNA assigned to watch us "deadbeats" trying to wake me for food and a urine sample. I had no food to offer her and wasn't in the mood for the day's "hot toddy" (chuckles) seriously though, who wakes a depressed mental patient just given drugs to make her sleep to ask her for piss and if she wants to eat? Adding to the frustration of not being allowed to smoke or write, the latter for fear I will stab someone or myself and the former because of lighters and the hospitals "NO SMOKING" policy just enacted for patients, guests and staff. Those are really my only two major luxuries in life and she was acting as though I was withholding the urine sample for cash and I didn't need to go. I hadn't eaten or drank all day and no one offered prior to that time either. We are now well into almost seven pm by now! I can't go when I am stressed, tired, sleeping and dehydrated and I was all four! I hadn't ate all day because of my nerves and had only drank around eight ounces of water in the morning with my pills...*tbc.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

* for those not in the know "tbc" stands for 'to be continued"

To the Mechanics...

I am not well. I haven't been well by definition in quite some time and today is one of the worse days yet. No tantrum or fit and no argument from me...it is time. When things break they need to go in for service. I need service, so off to the "mechanics" I go. This time unhappily but willingly to try and get things fixed. I don't know how long I will be gone or what will happen to me there but at least it won't be the last place I went, of my own choice.

About two years ago, maybe longer, I went to a mental health facility to keep my daughter from having to go into the foster care system. There was no way on Hades they were ever going to let me stay in the house with her when I was admittedly suicidal and homicidal. So to prevent her from the horrid ordeal I signed myself into a facility here in town. Nothing like the Hollywood version that the starlets and idols go to where they can have cell phones and visits and get day passes. I was in a seventy-two hour lock up of my own choice, and though I was crazy for "breaking in," I was no where near as crazy as the messed up fuckers in there! This place was a babysitting place for the adults who didn't want to behave like such and/or vagrants who needed a warm bed for a few nights. There was "group" therapy and most of it was spent listening to these people whine and cry about shit I wish I had! I soon came to realize that my problems were worse than most and maybe one other person there could claim with a certainty of truth that they really were nuts compared to me. I wasn't there for what you would call the crazies, I am depressed, to the state that I don't care if I live or whom I take with me when I die, save Lobo. It was like a dysfunctional cult and they even had kool-aid and cookie time every evening like some parents do for their kids. I never was such a parent as I felt the sugar rush before bed was detrimental to the child's sleep pattern. But they felt it would "calm" the nut cases so it was standard operating procedure. I won't go back there unless it is to "take a few" fuckers out with me. Today was the first day I ever have been Baker Acted whether I wanted to or not. It was a blow to the chest and I have been like a sad little zombie all day.

My doctor kindly left me to my own recognizes, so long as I was not alone, to afford me ample time to make arrangements for my child and household. I feel like I am in a surreal cloud and going through the motions of things that I really just don't give a damn about anymore. And the only reason my ass ain't dead is because I feel this overwhelming guilt at having been the only constant in Lobo's life and my leaving will leave her alone. She saves me. But it's not good enough and that is something I cannot tell her because though she may understand, it will bother her well into her future. It is never good enough to just be saved by guilt. I stopped living and haven't been able to and been putting on a good face and all for family and friends because I am sick of all the offers of advice from the wicked and sicker than me. I need to get better. I know this. I need my oil changed and my tires aired up and my shocks replaced and so on. I don't know what will happen, if I can write or will be forced to manipulate and articulate via Crayola, but I will do what I can to keep account for you all...This is no joke kids, mobe is going away and she warned you most of this will be so real it will hurt and bring up old haunts of your own. I promised no lies or secrets so that is what you get. Tomorrow this time I will be a scared and catatonic vegetable afraid of the doctors and the patients and on hunger strike. They may adjust my medications or decide altogether to give me none (not cool considering I am on almost 20 different meds for my asthma, EPP, mental depression and organic failures) and then they will have to pry my cold dead fat ass off the floor and throw me on a gurney and wheel me down to the morgue for autopsy should their choice prove fatal.

"Patient is a 39 year old Caucasian female, 5'4", undetermined weight-morbidly obese {*I so love this phrase because it applies to so many and is non-discriminate}, asthmatic with chronic inflammatory responses. She suffered from late stage Erythropoietic Protoporphyria and exhibits physical conditions that lead to the conclusion she was not under treatment ever or only just recently as her symptomatology is well past problematic. She has multiple fractures (note: not sure how she was even mobile under the unusual circumstances) and severely malnourished despite her bloated and full state of appearance. Vitals seem normal though the parameters of normalcy for pancreatic, hepatic and endocrine functions are stretched to the farthest boundaries of acceptability. Lungs seem clear with a mild mucus build up from light smoking over the course of two and a half decades, bones are brittle and marrow is powdery and lacking of properly formed heme cells. Gastro- intestinal tract are clear and seem to respond little to stimuli suggesting metabolic failure (note: see EPP) and her heart is enlarged due to the exposure to steroids and inhaler-type medication for decades of management for her asthma. Skin is supple and edematous due to lymphatic pooling. There is a right axillary scar suggesting lymph node cancer or biopsy-benign. There are several other insignificant scars attributed to normal insect interferences and a large scar right-side abdominal suggesting appendectomy in the last decade. There are accompanying laparoscopic scars also suggesting laparoscopic aide to the appendectomy. Internal lower GI seems clear and free of tears or scarring and vaginal cavity has been altered for knife-cone biopsy of about five centimeters removing a third of the cervical wall. Patient has three permanent tattoos, right neck-bird, right scapula-tree/angel, left mammary-multiple snowflakes (note: no ink reaction of unusual scarring on the application site or surrounding tissue). No one thing can be found contributing solely to the expiration of the patient, foregoing the unusual build-up of lachrymal salts upon the cheeks and eye crevasses. One could deduce she died of a broken heart..."

makes things a little more clearer to those not in the know. I want to be well and live again. I want to come back to my blog again and my friends and my child, especially my child again. I want to function and exist beyond the grief and despair that have been my roommates for far too long. I will miss you all when I am gone but I will be worrying most about my kid and the ramifications of my poor health, though not of my own accord, and the neglect I have been made to suffer through the years. The fates willing I will be back in time to be with my mini me and my friends and laugh a little bit again.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

A Dance of Death

A Dance of Death

upon the breathe of death is a justice not yet found
 for the children left alone this day that the pain to bear astound
in the light of night we'll fall by hundreds of not more
 and on the shores of riverbanks there'll be blood on forest's floor

upon the cold and starry eve when owl and dog will roam
 you can look to the sky and canvas above and know I am at home
in the blackest of sunset and wettest of tears I will hear you call
 one the shores of oceans far and wide you will muster up your gall

a festival surrounds you there and friend and foe alike
 they all knew of the deeds I've done so dare not even strike
but a chord of music and reverie for the fallen that has passed
 and all the living things on earth shall sing unto their last

a festival has gathered that will carry on 'til morn
 a celebration of one's life with memories that are torn
from the minds of men and beast of someone gone above
 now lain down beside their feet this someone that they love

upon the ground a slumber's sleep
 with distant memories for them to keep
are the fondest of dreams that float off to the night
 with great jubilee they dance with their might

as festival ends at day's breaking sun
 our guests shall take leave in pairs and in ones
and return in a year to remember this time
 and celebrate once more this passing sublime.

~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Last Words

winds from the east billow into my bedroom window blowing out the candle in the glass. I feel chilled and full of trepidation as the sounds from the hills tell me they are here and that it is time. I have known for awhile of this day and though having not dreaded its coming, I haven't really relished the moment either. It has to be this way; it's preordained. So who am I to buck the system?

It wasn't as if I didn't get fair warning or didn't have enough time. I had a fast go at it and it was time for me to go. Behind me I will leave a child not completely grown though a full twenty-two and my beloved companions. I will take nothing from this world with me as there is no use in the next for such treasures. I just wish it wasn't "them" and I wish they hadn't been around to volunteer. I don't really know if they had and I could think of a more suitable approach to my end than to use an instrument to which I consider myself "kin" to as well as fond of. My friends of the wood will carry out the vile deed and it will be told I will be reborn unto their flesh and "never really gone from this world" but you and I know better don't we? The chances of people realizing the other worlds to which we inhabit without the added aide of death are slim and very few save our own kind who are even in touch with the creatures that exist there at this time. As ethereal as it sounds it gives me great comfort to know that I still can taunt and smack the back of your head when you need it, and it gives me greater pleasure in knowing you will feel it and possibly even hone that skill so we can converse with one another when the timing is right.

I can smell them near now and knowing this day was upon us I sent you away. I didn't want my last memory to fill you with visions of macabre and gore. It won't be a pretty sight unless you're into that sort of thing and I have requested that my brother be the one to make the pivotal blow that surrenders my body back to whence it came. He has assured me of this and promised swift cause, and I have bade him to spare me nothing his enemies for I would rather a noble end with a bit of fight in me. I even reassured there will be words spoken to make sure he makes good his task. I only hope he forgives me some time later when he stops to think upon it. I know things I ought not and some have been quite useful and I can make and enemy faster than you a friend and I can make a friend out of an enemy and vice versa too! I want this one last fight. The noblest of Wamphyrii and Wamferani locked into a death embrace. Two brothers, two sisters, two siblings in a painful union where only one will survive. Above all else I want you to love my brother and your kin and to see this is as it was always intended to be. I must fall to pay for the sins of my father and you, my blessed child, will be a new generation along with kith and kin to which will go places only the winged and clawed dare dream of. I will be there and so will he and we will make room for you at the stone to sit and sing and enjoy meal and grovel in the moon's grace. I have no more to do this world and only to wait for you in the next. No sadness or tears or vengeance. You have so much to do and I will be watching you. Be proud little one and be strong!~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

At the End of the Tunnel

is it wrong of me to see the light at the end of the tunnel and want to dance and skip gleefully rather than float a little unwillingly always trying to hold back and wait for the voices to bring me back? I want this really. It's not that I'm impatient so much that I have been all too patient in this life and know that is definitely one of the things I want to change in the next.

Hell I have chewed through many partners and roommates. I have chewed through education upon education. I am constantly learning and absorbing all around me like "The Blob"...I call it a gift. Like counting cards or being savant towards music and the arts. I am able to do whatever I choose and be whomever I want to be and what I want to be is dead. For a little while. I am not afraid of the pain factor and actually tingle with anticipation for that aspect as pain equates arousal to my brain. I am not afraid of the hereafter or lack thereof, for those of you who don't believe in anything at all, as I know full well what is after the final curtain. I relish being able to not be bound by my body's limitations and be able to come and go as I please between this life and time and the next or previous. Time really is relative after all. So I dream of the past and of the future and get signals and messages from the great beyond all the time. I just wish they wouldn't make it seem so wonderful and entertaining. I don't see faeries or wings and halos and white fluffy clouds. I see it as a change of venue, of occupation and the ability to fix things that are broke and to perfect those that aren't. I'm close, everyone knows I believe this. But really I am close. I have few lessons in this world to be had and I have many to teach the "not yet birthed" when I am "home."

Let me tell you what I see. I see a place like a checking station and there are people coming and going on an invisible path or tram. Only the people are surreal and only echoes of their previous selves and more of lit matter or glowing strands of energy. Not one has a mouth so, therefore, cannot speak but we all communicate through a primal form of telepathy. Hell, I even do it now with lay creatures and animals and plants and new babies. Nothing is "spoken" unless needs to be because we have total access to all's thoughts whether they want it that way or not. It is a time of truths and there is no room for chatter as most all have places to be. Some need to check out or leave for destinations unknown and some need to check in and account for the last several decades and then get reassigned to a new post or go to be retrained. It is very tidy and orderly and some even choose to just stay for a visit and perfect some of their skills, much in the same way a samurai would have some five thousand years ago. He has gone off on his own to train and hone his skills returning only when he felt he was done and had no more to improve upon. Then he'd learn a new lesson and start the process all over. Life is so less complicated there as there are no expectations. We all have things to do and no one bucks the system. Even those who would appear in charge.

So a few days ago I had another recurring dream. Nothing special in it except it was a recounting of my past, my deep past. I have recounted all the horrors I have seen and now it would appear that I am starting to recount for my pleasures as well. I went back this time to childhood happiness. I was walking the streets of the city to which I was born. Only I am viewing things from all different eras even some not my own. When I came to the street my grandmother on my mother's side was there were shops and people going about their business which seemed to be gambling and dancing and drinking in the street and on the sidewalks. The closer I got to my grandparent's home the younger and shorter I was to the people and surroundings. I was still an adult of mind but I had this feeling of renewed strength and small of stature. I came upon my grandfather tinkering in the long driveway to the old home and ran up to him and jumped into his arms. He told me I was doing good and it was getting close to time. It wasn't time yet but will be soon and before he could get to the doorstep to the house, I woke up.

The funny thing is I have had similar variations of this dream over and over and over. Each had its own result and each time I was awakened with a sense of something needs to be finished. I have been busting my ass to finish things and to tidy my own things to make my small future in order for when my time comes. Only the city and area keeps hounding me and haunting me. Some of the architecture changes in each and is morphing into something I barely recognize. I have my suspicions on what it all means but no answers yet and feel I am being pulled down a tunnel to an end and that these faces and places from my past are preparing me for my end. I am alright with this and have comfort in the know that my family and community is still "shaping" me even in death. I will make good on my unfinished business and then soon after we shall see.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

Through the Eyes of a Child

in her eyes I am a goddess and her father a god. Her mother is all that she could ever want and she herself is all hope and future. She is my niece and today she met some other members of her family that she's never seen formally.

Her father and her aunt(not me)are twins. Unusual twins that don't get along so for the last 2+yrs her aunt never got to meet her. I seem to be the only idiot as I get along with them all...we have another sister as well making four of us in total alive and a half sister we never knew that is far older. My father and mother both remarried, he still is and she is not and neither having more children though my step monster brings her own foul progeny into the mix to make our grand total at home seven kids. I am number two. So, for Piper's first time I took her to see daddy's twin while he and mommy had a date night and she, Lobo and myself went out for chinese food. The little bugger ate like a trooper and off we went to auntie's house. At first a little scared but then when I went inside I found her with my sister's step daughter, a five year old with a bad temper and her youngest, and the two of them were having a blast. The older child felt needed as she was the baby at home and she got to play "big sis" to her new cousin. All the kids adored her from the 18yr old to the 5yr old...even the 18yr old's boyfriend was there and he adored her. She's a peach so long as she isn't being a shit as they sometimes do! You see, through her eyes the world is perfect. Big people are all powerful and perfect and other kids are her toys and all toys belong to her. Only today I watched this selfish only child share and giggle and have a blast with complete strangers. It was wispy and wonderful and actually fun.

Brother and sister should get long this great! If a two year old full of herself can put aside her differences long enough to quell the temperament of her ideal carbon copy in a five year old red-headed package, surely two 34yr olds could? I love them dearly and whether they like it or not they are so much alike it is uncanny. But both are as pig-headed as their father and mother and so become quite volatile when placed in the same carafe as their family and shook and stirred. I saw a softer side of my sister today that I haven't seen in ages. it's amazing what a cute tot can do to one's disposition! Through the eyes of a child the world is beautiful and a huge playground. I don't know when we lose that sight but I do know a lot of people who need theirs back. I guess everyone lost their at different pivotal moments. One never can tell and I suppose if life were to be so ideal all the time it wouldn't be worth fighting for, but boy would it be fun!~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.

At an End

each day becomes increasingly hard as a relationship comes to a close. Neither person wants to be the bad guy and we all start assessing our feelings to see if we are the caliber of "asshole" we know and are sure the other will paint us to have been.

To those of us on the outside looking in at the train wrecks that were our friends and family, it is hard. To them it is devastating and it brings them to the crossroads. They have to decide what was their fault, no easy feat, and decide what wasn't. They have to make a conscious effort to grow towards the future and a more perfect example of themselves or to sit and throw a tantrum befitting a child and refuse the light and food and water and expect all other's to provide for their nurturing and nourishment. Unfortunately for some, we find these people and cannot recognize them from the regular blokes and lasses. Hell, for the most part we all look the same and all look like adults but you would be surprised how many of us aren't emotionally. In order to survive the pitfalls of a failing relationship you have to go through all the same stages of grieving as you would with the death of a loved one. Too many people, when they're happy, poke fun at those that are suffering who state that they "feel like they are dying," but fail to see the similar dynamic that is going on-until it is their turn and they wail and lament their own losses. The grieving process involves all facets.

I don't believe it is over, I don't want it to end, I am pissed that it got here, I won't find another, I'm done with this shit, I don't know what I'm gonna do now, I'm lost, I hurt, what did I do wrong? why?...it's all there. We try to fight our way back in and even stalk the other a little(normally)to check and see if they are happy without us, then eventually, fade and forget to give a shit. We really want them happy but that angry part...that's where it is at for most. Some people jump into the self-loathing and make vows to change and better themselves that hold no merit past a New Year's decree. And then the some that linger all too long in the hatred and angry phase who just cannot believe it happened to them. They get stuck. And then they go on to another in this phase and make that one suffer for what failed in their eyes with the last one. They become clingy and controlling and aloof to their damage and everything is always someone else's fault and never their own. They don't own shit and because of it they never fix any of their own shit. They become poisoned and spread their toxin to another and cause such a domino effect that it compounds over and over and before you know it, the whole town is a mess and it all started with one little disappointment. I have been here and through every phase of grief. I already have grieved my own death and have become at peace with it and even a little callous to others grief because of it.

A very dear friend, sister, of mine has come to the bottom of a deep pit of despair. She sees the darkness that lies ahead and has that feeling of hopelessness that she will never see the light again. She sees the relationship she's in is flawed and is tanking and she cannot do a thing to save it because what is broke is the partner. She sees her flaws too, with a little help from her friends and family and is in a healthy but very painful, very real place most of don't want to be. These are her words and I have been hard pressed to find better ones myself...

CAN YOU FEEL MY SORROW?
CAN YOU FEEL MY PAIN?
CAN YOU FEEL MY HEART BREAK?
THE TEARS DOWN MY CHEEKS AGAIN?
CAN YOU FEEL ME FALL APART WHILE WALKING THROUGH MY BRAIN?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'M THE ONE TO BLAME.
I TAKE IT ALL ON ME.I HAD HOPE AND FAITH THAT WE WERE MEANT TO BE.
I'M SORRY FOR THE PAIN IVE CAUSED~THIS~I WANT YOU TO KNOW.
I THINK ITS BEST TO WALK AWAY AND SIMPLY LET YOU GO.
I'M NOT YOUR DREAM GIRL AND NEVER WAS.
I JUST CANT MAKE YOU SEE.
YOU ARE IN MY HEART AND SOUL.
AND I LOVED YOU "FAITHFULLY.

YOU WERE MY EVERYTHING....JULIE S.

...he may not even see this. He may not even care. She knows this and it is no less hard in the know of such things. She's a good gal with a good head on her shoulders who has made her own mistakes but found one of those "lost children" that resemble adults and let them become too much a part of her life. She knows she isn't perfect and loves who she was and is lost in who she is now because she let him change her into something she's not...and left her an unhappy mess for us to nurture(happily). I hope someday this child finds himself and figures out he isn't a god or perfect. When we embrace our imperfections it makes us wise and empathetic and capable of a healthy social circle. He just isn't there yet and now, it is up to him, alone. It was his problem to start with and it will always be until he alone fixes it. I did it. Julie's working on hers and so are most of you. She owes him nothing and I feel at least he owes her an apology(maybe even us too for his treatment and judgment of her)but definitely her. In good hands of those who truly love her it will finally be the bottom and a long climb up. Better the glance up than the scary look down as you're plummeting at a hundred miles an hour. She just got to the bottom and hasn't set foot down yet-too scared. I am trying to help her so she can get her feet again and begin to "look up" to where she is heading now. She is strong enough. I know this, we all do and we all refuse to let her do it alone. Why? Because we DO love her and are her community, her family, her friends and her partners in life.~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.