Tag Archives: Music

MUSIC AND STUDY HALL

It’s easy to say you love music. But music has always been different for me. From the moment I was born I loved it. I know this love comes from my Mom. She played the music she loved constantly. In the car, in the house, and at work. I grew up loving the music she loved. She passed her love of music not only to me but to my brother also.

My brother is 7 years older than I am so I also listened to what he loved growing up. I grew up with music from the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. I was lucky they both had such a wide variety of taste. It went from Oldies to Disco to Country to Rock to Metal and I loved it all. Eventually I figured out my own favorites.

I had a hard time making friends and spent a lot of time alone in my room listening to music. I knew I was different but I didn’t understand why. It would be many years before I did. I was bullied most days at school but kept it to myself. I kept everything to myself. To this day I still have the same 1 best friend. I’m lucky she knows all the bad and all the good about me and accepts me as I am. She was never good at confrontation either.

We both used music to express ourselves. If we were pissed off we would put in some Pantera or Metallica and blast it while driving fast in her black Trans Am (I probably got the car wrong but it was a T-top black sports car that looked cool). She knew if I was sad we were playing Aerosmith. My love of Aerosmith knew no bounds. I had every cassette they had made, every VHS tape, every album, and when they came to town I was at their shows.

In high school when we had study hall they did this odd thing where they would put you in the back of an ongoing class. So as a Junior I would sit in the back of a Freshman History class for Study Hall. One day I was bored and started listing all the Aerosmith songs I knew. A Freshman boy looked over to see what I was writing. He said “Are those Aerosmith songs?”. I told him they were. He said “What do you know about Aerosmith?”. I thought “Oh no he didn’t” but I didn’t talk to people not even little jackass Freshman. But he kept it up and people who know me do know that if you poke long and hard enough you will get a response.

Needless to say I was asked to leave Study Hall. The Front Office had never seen or heard of me, unfortunately my brother was well known. Even though he has a different last name they flagged my sister and I just in case. All for the love of Aerosmith and because I let the music do the talking.

When I began to stutter several years ago my relationship with music became even stronger. I don’t think people really understand what it’s like to be almost mute at crucial times. My stuttering isn’t a normal stutter. It sounds like jibberish.

When all you want to do is tell someone how you real feel but can’t because nonsense comes out of your mouth it’s frustrating. The more frustrated you get the worse your speech gets.

When I drank I had no problem with speaking. This wasn’t a good thing. Music also influenced my mood quite a bit while I was drinking. My best friend knew this before I did and would try to prevent certain songs from being played at a bar or party. But she wasn’t my babysitter and could only do so much.

She did know that if she put on Aerosmith I would usually calm down and go back to the somewhat happy drunk I started out as.

Mr. Steven Tyler’s words, music, and whimsical charm have saved me more times than I can count. I thank you for that often. I also thank you for showing honesty and generosity to younger versions of me. I may not be religious but I believe in the power of music.

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INSECURE CONFUSION ISOLATION PAIN REGRET OUTCAST FEAR

Most people know that music has been a part of my life since before I was born. It started with Elvis then went to Black Sabbath, AC/DC, Meatloaf, Super Tramp, everything my brother listened to, then what I learned to like on my own. I love lyrics. This is probably why I never really liked Led Zeppelin and some other groups that did long drum or guitar solos.

People in my life don’t understand why I get so worked up over the death of someone I didn’t know or comments made about the death of someone I didn’t know.

It’s because a large majority of people in the music industry (up to 70%) have a mental health/addiction problem. People who are bipolar have a tendency to be drawn to music, language, and alcohol. The research also shows that people who are bipolar are generally more intelligent. (I’m not just saying this because I’m bipolar)

When I listen to music I hear the lyrics first. Some lyrics are why I love the bands I do. I have songs I listen to when I want to feel good about myself and songs for when I’m down. But you’ll never know the feeling of hearing a song that describes you to a T when you don’t even know what’s wrong with you. All you can do is sit and cry because you realize you aren’t the only one. You’re in your early 30’s and you finally find someone who is singing your life and you’re not alone. That band was Blue October. I want to thank them for the song “Hate Me” which is so much like my mother and I. All I could do is sit there and sob. It started a slow change in me. I’m a work in progress that I probably won’t get to finish.

I’m leaning towards taking that road trip because I need to do something an adult would do. I need to see new things, meet new people (within reason). My best friend W said I should go for it and she has a degree in Psychology but works for the Post Office because it pays better. lol

So I’m thinking, making lists, thinking, making lists, and maybe I’ll actually get in the car and go.


DRESS CODES AT CONCERTS (Insert Snort Laugh Here)

The music industry is what it is. Not everyone in it is there because they have natural talent and instinct. Some are mostly smoke and mirrors, kind of like me most days. When the illusion is gone, stripped down, they can’t write music, lyrics, sing without having their voices tweaked, play acoustically or engage a crowd without theatrics.

A GREAT MUSICIAN DOESN’T NEED TRICKS THEY ONLY NEED INSPIRATION.

I would’ve given anything to be able to sing, wail out my pain or emptiness nightly instead of keeping it inside. Now that I no longer partake in alcohol I only sing in my car. The problem is I don’t leave the house often. I feel better when I drive around in the sun singing as loud as I can songs that make me feel alive. Other drivers probably don’t feel better but who cares? Also my car broke down over 2 weeks ago and I haven’t picked another one yet because I hate change, I really wanted to go on a vacation and spend all my money on a car, I’m worried I won’t have a place to live soon so I don’t want to take on another bill, I have a million excuses.

If I had received a letter with my Motley Crue or Aerosmith tickets that said the following:

PLEASE DO NOT WEAR: Shorts, large logos, flip flops, tank tops, crop tops, baseball hats, solid white or red clothing. We reserve the right to deny entry to anyone dressed inappropriately.

Our dress code is HIP & TRENDY as if you are going to a concert (uh, I think that’s the point), or night out with friends! The event is standing-room-only so please plan accordingly.

I should tell you that your cellphones/cameras/recording devices will be taken and locked up but you can have access to them in a specific area only.

First off I remember when W and I went to a Motley show and she had a gigantic can of hair spray in her purse. They wouldn’t let her in with it and because it was expensive (to her) she wouldn’t throw it away. I was getting pissed off we were missing the show over hair spray so I reached over, grabbed the can and chucked it in the garbage myself. She wasn’t very happy. I told her I would buy her 2 new cans but she said that wasn’t the point. I wanted to say no, the point is you should know better than to bring a large can of flammable liquid to a concert and it isn’t expensive you’re just cheap! But I said nothing.

I could never wear what other girls/women would wear to the concerts I went to. Most of it I wouldn’t have worn even if I could’ve. Some of the outfits were ridiculous. If you are a size 20 you should know a studded bra and spandex is not flattering. I say this because I was a size 20. Even at a size 14 I didn’t do it. And seeing men (?) wearing “No Fat Chicks” T-shirts was so funny! I couldn’t believe how many of those shirts I still see. I thought of making a few of my own “NO SMALL DICKS”, “NO BALD MEN”, “BE A MAN NOT PETER PAN”, when I get together with W we kind of get on a roll. Even though I’m a little underweight now that kind of constant low self esteem and body image issues stays with you.

I apologize to Arcade Fire but I have no idea who you are. I know trendy as far as hair, jewelry and clothing go and from pictures I’ve seen I’m not sure if your stylist does. You can blame Apple all you want but you did the same in 2013 so what was the excuse then? If you’re shooting a music video I can understand. All white stands out and so does all red. Having other recording devices there would be a problem also. But shorts, tank tops, crop tops (no one should be wearing crop tops unless you’ve time warped to 1989), flip flops (someone wants to risk sticky broken toes that’s their problem), large logos (again if you’re doing a video you might have to block it out or pay the company a fee) but still it’s kind of ridiculous.

These are fans who answered a question and applied for tickets and you treated them like morons who don’t know how to dress themselves.BBCF4X9

P.S. Only one person in my opinion can pull off a haircut close to this and that’s the beautifully spirited Dave Navarro who is in no way affiliated with this blog.


WHAT IT IS

Someone recently followed my Blog for a day. I normally wouldn’t think anything of it but the person created their account on that day and it was also deleted after they had read my posts. The blog name seemed familiar to me and the posts they read were about my past.

I am an open book. I don’t lie because I’m not good at it unless I’m drunk or have a buzz and want something. I have 9 years of sobriety with one night where I relapsed in those 9 years. And no I do not start counting days over again I think that practice shames the person and leaves them feeling like “Well I screwed up, everyone hates me so I might as well keep drinking”. I don’t buy into that way of thinking and that is why I have been able to stay sober as long as I have.

Other times when I tried different methods I would make it to 6 months or a year and relapse. The guilt would be overwhelming and the people around me made sure I was reminded of what I did. I felt even worse about myself so I quit and went back to something I could depend on, alcohol. Then I was diagnosed Bipolar and became aware of why I drink and eventually things got easier. Alcohol wise anyways.

Now I sit around and watch YouTube videos from my favorite bands because there is no good music right now. For me a song should be like a book. A beginning, a middle, and an end. I want to feel emotions not hear about how great your ass is or how many girls you take home from the club and how much money you make. That isn’t music. Music is about struggling, pain, love, loneliness, losing everything, fighting for something, it has a purpose.

If anyone from my past has a problem with what I write you know where you can find me. But unlike last time I will be the one with chair and you will leave broken with nightmares. This I can promise.

I will no longer sit by while anyone humiliates, degrades or physically harms me. I will no longer be silent even if I have to stutter to get my point across.


CRUSHES, CRUSHED, DATING MUSICIANS

I’ve always been drawn to music and tried to stay away from dating musicians or guys in bands. In High School my best friend Wendy and I had crushes on another pair of best friends. When I was in High School it was different. The guys looked like grown men. Wendy’s crush was over 6 feet tall with black silky hair half way down his back and the bluest eyes. My crush was an exact copy of Slash from Guns n’ Roses. I’m not kidding, they had the same hair, face, body, and both were in bands. My crush was in a band with the worst name ever “Facial Defecation”. Yup. They were popular too. Mostly because women loved the Slash look a like.

One day Wendy calls me and says “Hurry up and get ready. You’ll never believe who I’m with!”. She had somehow met our crushes and they were all coming to pick me up so we could go to a party. It was the first time I got drunk and fooled around with a Slash look a like. Sadly he passed away a few years ago from Pancreatic Cancer. His alcoholism didn’t help. His best friend paid for the funeral. He didn’t know his family would need that money a year later when he died from lung cancer. He never smoked but was always in bars promoting bands and going to shows.

So I never liked groupies and when drunk I didn’t hide the fact. Part of it was my own insecurity and self esteem issues and part of it was most of them took advantage not caring that these were actual people. I would watch as they would steal expensive alcohol or drugs and it pissed me off. Some of these people were friends of mine and I was there to support them. But I also knew how things worked. The Velvet Rope system is cruel. Many times I only got into places because I was with Wendy. Sometimes someone recognized a kindred spirit in me.

For the most part I tried to stay at a safe distance. Then I would drink and a guy with long black silky hair would show up who played guitar and tattooed. So that night I ended up with 3 tattoos and a guitarist. The next morning I didn’t remember getting 3 tattoos but I remembered the guy. That’s always good when you remember the guy. Of course he was another alcoholic who also liked coke, crack, heroin and a lot of other women.

I had a type when I drank. If they had dark hair and looked dangerous in a good way that’s who I went for. I hardly ever looked at blonds. It’s weird. The dark haired guys always got me in trouble or I got myself in trouble. And they all had tattoos, some had meanings I should’ve known about but I was still young. The teardrop under the eye can have many meanings BUT none of them mean the guy is sensitive and caring just so you know. I think about him from time to time but last I heard he was on the run from doing serious time for putting his girlfriend in the hospital. Not really surprised.

I do miss the music from that time and the guys with long hair. In my own petty way I want to go back in time but look like I do now and tell a few people off or if they hit on me insult them or slap them, either would be good. It was a strange time. Some people were cruel to me because I was a 250 pound bleach blond drunk. Some people really liked me. Now no one likes me or dislikes me. I’m not sure which is worse.


OLD SONGS, NEW TRIGGERS

My best friend called me the other day. We talked for about an hour and a half. She had heard a song on the radio that I supposedly liked to sing while drinking. At the time of the conversation I couldn’t remember the song or singing it. This isn’t unusual for me because I have blocked out quite a few chunks of time. I know when a song I liked was played and I was drinking I thought I sounded like the singer and would sing very loud, at one time singing over a lead singer’s voice in a cover band. For the record the people in the bar thought my rendition of “Home Sweet Home” was better. This was probably not always the case.

I went on YouTube to look up the band and the song my friend mentioned. It was Steel Heart “I’ll Never Let You Go”. The guy had a set of pipes! I cringed and could only hope I hadn’t tried to hit those notes publicly. I know that I did. YouTube gives other suggestions when you look for a song. Down the rabbit hole I went.

I smelled beer and leather, I started to feel like I was going to throw up, my hands were shaking and I was in a cold sweat. I couldn’t stop it. That night there were dreams that were actually memories of times I didn’t want to remember. In the dream I felt drunk and I didn’t want to feel drunk, I wanted to go home but they wouldn’t let me. There was the usual blood, sweat, tears, and the uncertainty of sex. I’ve been in a deeper depression (if possible) and stuttering more since.

Some Doctors will say that Conversion Disorder patients will recover then have an episode now and then under stress. But for some of us there is no recovery, it’s always there waiting. There are other issues that factor in. If you have another mental illness (Bipolar Disorder) than it’s more difficult to treat. If you did not get help within a certain time frame it’s more difficult to treat and if it presents in a neurological way like tremors or stuttering it’s close to impossible to treat. That doesn’t mean you can’t try but don’t be too disappointed if Therapy and Medication do not work. I’m talking about myself but I am not the only one.

These same factors apply for Bipolar Disorder. There are so many variables that can determine your response or lack of response to treatment. Most people do not understand this and think that you don’t want to get better.

I didn’t wake up one morning and decide that I want to be a non-functioning burden who cries most days and will not have a “normal” life. When I was younger I imagined I would be married by now with my own home and children. Instead I live with my Dad, take 6 medications a day, try to deal with having these issues and a number of very serious health issues. I also take care of my Dad because he’s on dialysis three times a week and 73 years old. I do it because he never gave up on me, even if I’m ready to pass out myself, he comes first. My twin never comes to our house and my older brother drops in once in awhile. My Dad doesn’t visit his grandchildren because in his mind he feels that if my Mom can’t see them then he shouldn’t be able to either. Survivor’s guilt. It was 9 years in February and neither one of us is over it because we witnessed the entire ugly scene. My twin decided to stay home and my brother was in jail.

Today my twin told me that my Dad and I have no empathy for other people. She also said that friends come before family. I kept my mouth shut as usual because I’m tired of fighting with her. I’m pretty much done with the entire family. Even my Dad has been cruel lately. He thinks it’s a competition, who is sicker, I’m not playing the game anymore. He doesn’t realize that he’s 73 and this sick, I’m 44 and as sick as him. There’s a difference. I’m easily influenced by the moods around me. I need to be around positive happy people. Or at least in the sunshine in a warm climate with a pool and a float.

 

 


HARD TIMES, HARD ROCK, ALCOHOL, NOSTALGIA (Nothing Stays The Same)

I’ve tried hard not to lie on my blog. I won’t start now. I haven’t felt well in awhile. Not physically or mentally. When I have an overwhelming feeling to relive past experiences I know I’m headed down the rabbit hole. I don’t mean relive them in my head, I mean actually do them again or something similar.

I can’t hop on a plane to L.A. and have drinks with Lars, I can’t hop on a plane and annoy Sebastian Bach, I can’t charm my way on to a bus filled with musicians. I miss those days. It isn’t so much the drinking I miss, it was the person I was able to be. No medication or therapy has ever made me feel like that person. In my head I was confident, funny, smart, pretty, and everyone wanted to be around me. In some cases that was true. But mostly it wasn’t. It was nice that I didn’t know or care what anyone thought at the time. Those were brief periods of drinking where the Worm didn’t come out to play.

When I drank no one knew who I would be at a certain point in my drinking. My best friend called it “The Turn of Worm”. That was when I would become reckless, mean, or on occasion violent. Sometimes I would hurt myself. I jumped off of the deck of a building one time. It wasn’t high up so I hadn’t done any real damage to myself. My best friend wasn’t happy. She rarely showed emotion except when it came to me. Now she doesn’t show me anything anymore. I can’t blame her. I just don’t understand why you would babysit someone for over 20 years and then wait until they’ve been sober almost 9 years before letting them go? She actually started to pull away sooner than that if I’m honest. This breaks something deep inside me that I can’t even name. She knew me better than my twin.

I care too much about everything and everyone since I stopped drinking. Emotional overload has made me weak and tired. I feel the way I did as a child only my mom isn’t here to comfort me. She always knew I was different. I would hear her talking to my Dad. She would tell him I was more sensitive than other children and to just “leave me be”. So that’s what they did for as long as I can remember. I went to my mom to cry. I missed school a lot of days sometimes when I said my “stomach hurt” and they didn’t question it. My father only recently said to me what he thought “I should’ve ignored your mother and taken you to a doctor when you were little. Maybe you wouldn’t be like this now”. It doesn’t do any good to try to blame anyone. I know he has blamed her side of the family many times. I personally have blamed my Grandmother. I think she was a rotten Mother and a horrible person in general.

I constantly feel an ache inside me. It never stops except when I sleep. I have been to countless Doctors and Therapists. I’ve done every different method suggested from visualizing a stop sign, writing a daily journal, changing my diet, ECT, so many different combinations of medications I’ve lost count. I’ve been asked if I can be videotaped for students to watch like a lab experiment, my dignity and pride lost a long time ago.

There is nothing that interests me anymore.


Hair Bands, Bad Tattoos and Alcohol

Music has always been an influence on me. It could be good or bad depending on the day. I graduated High School in 1991. It was the height of music like Bon Jovi, Skid Row, Motley Crue, Metallica, Pantera, and the Seattle scene with Pearl Jam and Nirvana. I went for the Motley Crue, Skid Row, Metallica, Pantera, kind of scene but maybe a little more aggressive at times. My best friend W and I often went to shows where guys would throw themselves into one another until bloody. At times it was like watching a National Geographic where the male Gorillas fights for top position. I know I wasn’t thinking that at the time, I was too drunk. I was also stupid enough to get involved in these shenanigans. W did too. We were we lucky we got pulled out of there or we would have had more than bleeding elbows.

In our state we had an amusement park. It had what they called a “Flume”. It was like a water roller coaster that you rode in a log. We loved it. It also had a Ferris Wheel where you were in a cage not seats. The cage had a wheel in the middle that you could use to try to control the spinning of the cage. It was brutal. The people hired to run these rides must have been taught by the Marquis de Sade. If you screamed or threw up you had to stay on the ride longer. I would see this one guy taking sips from a flask who was managing the spinning cages. Everyone knew not to walk near the ride while it was running because chances were you’d be hit with vomit or pummeled with loose change.

The park also had live bands. This was the best part. We loved going to see bands play there. W and I were able to see and meet so many bands and we were also able to drink underage. I’m not promoting this. I’m reminiscing about my past that included alcohol abuse starting at an early age.

In the beginning my drinking was fun. W and I were able to meet (most of you will have no idea who these people are) Winger, Pantera, Danger Danger, Slaughter, Dream Theatre, there’s one band I can’t remember the name of but I know it begins with a S and they wore plaid shirts. The lead singer was pretty with long, straight, shiny brown hair. That narrows it down doesn’t it? lol

It’s those days I miss. I don’t miss getting crazy drunk and getting prison style tattoos. I’ve always watched Ink Master because I find tattooing to be an art form. My father disagrees completely even though he has two tattoos himself. His are worse than mine! At least you have some idea of what mine are his look like bluish green blobs. I mentioned that he should get them fixed once. He said they are a reminder of his stupidity. He is such an artistic person but also a person who likes nothing more than to punish himself. LIGHTBULB! That’s where I get it from! Anyway, when I see some of the work done on that show and online I am blown away. I wish I had waited to get one of mine fixed. When the “professional” went over the prison tat you can still feel where he went too deep with the needle and there is scar tissue. I’m pretty sure it isn’t supposed to be like that. He had just been featured in a Nationally known Tattoo Magazine and his ego was inflated. He specialized in certain genres and that’s all he wanted to do. Trying to talk a client into a mechanical insect or a lotus for almost 2 hours when you knew 2 weeks ahead of time she wanted a wolf is just ridiculous. I don’t think I can have anymore done to it. The scarring seems deep. I’ll have to research someone to find out. Maybe they will let me be on Ink Master.

Alcohol has brought me down many roads and I’ve met many different people. Some were cruel, some were unexpectedly kind. I’ve met some that made my heart bleed. One such man was a Vietnam Veteran. I believe he suffered from PTSD. He was homeless (he lived in an abandoned car) and an alcoholic. Sometimes late at night when I was still awake and drinking I would let him come in J’s apartment. I didn’t want him there when they were around because they were ruthless with him.

He would talk about the War and how he felt when the guys said things to him. It killed me when I heard one of them call him a “baby killer”. I lost it that night. They were done treating him like scum. I paid a price for protecting him but I don’t care. They never messed with him again. They also threw M-80’s into the abandoned car to scare him. They filled empty beer bottles with urine and re-capped them. I stopped that from happening. I took the urine 6 pack out of his hands and gave him a brand new 12 pack that I had bought and made sure no one went near him. Should I have been enabling him? At that point of his disease I don’t think there was any going back. His suffering was too severe. I saw the pain and nightmares he carried with him 24 hours a day. Who was I to deny the man relief or judge him? I also had my own pain and it was easier helping someone else than looking at myself. I don’t know what happened to him. He had daughters my age. He always said to me “You’re better than this. You need to get away from these guys before it’s too late.”. It was too late the day I took my first drink and felt some of the grief, hopelessness, and misery slip away.

 

P.S.~ The man is from Danger Danger. I found the picture the other day. Those are my tattoos. I have a third but it’s in an odd area now due to my weight loss. We’ll just leave it at that.

 


WHAT MUSIC IS AND FANS AREN’T

As far back as I can remember I have used music to escape the real world. I used music for depressed times, drunk times, sober times, and happy times. It’s in my blood. My mother was a great dancer and she loved music. I was listening to Elvis 24/7 in the womb. My mom could also sing. I loved to hear her sing Brenda Lee to my dad. A few years before her death she did “The Twist” at a wedding. The look on her face was one of such joy I can almost erase the memory of pain that followed.

As a Bipolar person I feel everything too much. It is like walking around without your skin on. I would spend over 20 years drinking and listening to music to try and cope with feeling every emotion to the extreme. I didn’t know I was Bipolar until several years ago. Learning that I am Bipolar helped me to be sober or “in remission” from alcohol for over 7 years. Music also helps.

When I hear lyrics that change me in some way there is nothing better in the world. You think that person understands you. They probably don’t or won’t but that’s ok as long as the music does the talking.

I don’t understand why fans go on an artist’s fan page to talk so disrespectfully about a band or person they supposedly have admiration for. Also the women who want to talk about the hair of the artist or what they would like to do to them. It annoys me and I don’t know why. I think it’s all about respect. How I was raised. The music industry is a bitch. Artists do not need people calling them out, steeling set lists, and talking trash about them. They are there to share a gift with us. If we make it uncomfortable for them they’ll stop. And if the artist is married have some respect for them and yourself. No one wants to hear your sick ass plans that you are way too old to be doing anyway.

I thank the musicians that have always been an influence on me or helped me through tough times.


Sebastian Bach and Manic Thinking

I know that I have been feeling a little manic lately. It doesn’t change the fact that things in my house suck. I mention taking a vacation alone and my father starts yelling. I’m 43!! When does the guilt stop? How long do I have to pay for my mistakes? I’m 7 years sober and still I’m questioned about where I’ve been. Do you want to smell my breath too? I wanted to take a 4 and half hour plane ride to see Sebastian Bach at the House of Blues and spend some time in the sun and relax! Let my siblings take care of my dad for once

Music has always been an outlet for me. I can’t listen to it in my house because I get yelled at about the noise or sarcastic comments are made. Sebastian Bach is one of my favorite artists to listen to and try to sing along with. I’ve never seen a rock singer with such a professional sounding voice and mannerisms. I love to watch him perform. Just like I have felt about other musicians. Although I’m smarter now. I have also never had the experience of going to a concert skinny and sober. You know what it felt like all those years to watch my bestfriend and everyone else in their rock n roll outfits while I had to wear a T-shirt and jeans. My bestfriend once had thigh high leather boots, a leather mini skirt, and a red bustier. She also had a diamond studded dog collar on. Not real diamonds of course. Her blonde hair with light strawberry red natural streaks was down to her rear end but teased as big as we could get it. She also has Hazel/Green eyes and a bunny nose. She drew attention wherever she went. Even with normal clothes on.

Now she looks a lot older and would never put those clothes on except if it was Halloween. Her boyfriend likes her to look natural of course so she no longer puts blonde in her hair or wears much make-up. Funny how when they meet her she’s all dolled up. After they are established in their relationship with her they want her to change how she looks. The fact that she does kind of bothers me.

I’m not overweight anymore and can wear what I want. I was always told “You have such a pretty face but……” Not now. I have not had a chance since I lost weight to kind of show myself off to people who made my life miserable or were just hurtful. It’s petty I know but I still want that chance. I know I have spring fever and it’s always a bad time for me. I still want to spread my wings. My father is worse by the day and I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this. I have Conversion Disorder/PTSD. Living with someone that you have become afraid of, a person you once loved and respected, is difficult to say the least. When asked to describe my father I always said the same. “He is the most honorable man I know”. Now he sometimes isn’t honorable at all. That fact splits my heart and head in two.


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