Initiate

My volunteer career with NAMI Sacramento has begun, and I am already participating in the expansion of my organization’s goals. I represented a living success story when I manned our NAMI Sacramento booth at the Disability Fair on the campus of Sacramento City College last Thursday. It felt great to be working, or more accurately, sponsoring awareness and proactively engaging the community. As time goes on, my hours will steadily increase, and I believe I have made it clear to my Executive Director that I have a lot to offer. The future looks bright.

There is this part of me that keeps going back to the past to poke around in the ashes for an ember of some form. I don’t know why I indulge this activity, as my last encounter with this resulted in me being cursed and berated. Chances are, the same fate ultimately awaits me in the past. The past is a place I have utterly ruined, and I should not expect anything to grow there ever again. Looking forward, this seems to be a good incentive for isolation and an avoidance of the path that led to all that mess. The whole sector is now an irradiated wasteland with an unfriendly fence around it.

I don’t know what new things I will discover in this career direction, but the work is bound to be more rewarding, more meaningful. It is having a purpose and making a difference that are of concern to me. I don’t want to be forgotten or useless. We have a cat: there’s already someone in this house who’s primary occupation is being useless. No room for two of us, it would seem. So here I am living my life, being proactive and helping a nonprofit spread the word about erasing the stigma of mental illness.

Prepare

I hate feeling like a freeloader. I do mooch, but I also contribute so that the burden of guilt is lessened. Nevertheless I find myself I satisfied and wanting. Scheduled relevance is most definitely needed in my life right now.

I want to get to helping, contributing or doing something relevant, but it’s not quite time.

At the current moment, I’m suffering my first cold in a few years. I forgot just how terrible it is to be sick. Paralyzing, irritating and uncomfortable. I’m doing my part to fight it off with the medicines and vitamins. I will persevere.

My parents are being more effectively communicative. I heard them sort out a thing that might have led to a fight. They’re getting it. It’s much more fun to resolve conflict than enlarge it. I find.

Have a good night blog. I’m going to bed.

Something She Lost

An Abstract Prose Narrative

Back in the days full of sun, dreams merged like clouds blowing in the wind. Dancing light and fingers touching the tall grass the days were by. Holding breath in the kiss of tangerine love.

Opening up a bounteous bloom of cosmic preponderance and entrenched in unique beauty. Hinges, wings and cryptic messages sparked a deep fascination. Could such a world blend with my own? Maybe a merging of these twisted dimensions may yield a beautiful offspring? The investigation within the cave of the eye began. Tumbling down the hole seemed a drunken escapade so delightful, wanted, yearned for. Always.

So to do sunsets yield to night, a time and a time went by. Stale air and old closets were hiding. Shriveled up socks and neglected piles of things.

Threads cobwebbery enmeshed and ensnared. Thorns dug in deep. Hatred like raging lava buried the what had been in incendiary death.

What then at this brink? Her last words were of a lost piece of the personal past. Her bloom, in a book, in text where her secrets had been hidden. The unfurling of her thought, ripped to pieces by division, scattering her from her anchor. The fissure had grown vast and deep. Her words echoed into the chasm, unreconciled.

Long since the sun shown so, my hands found her dreams once more. Symbols, language and such an imagination. It was all here again, unearthed by the expansion of time. Scrawled in her adorable ink, all that she was missed was remembered. Kiss, laugh and dream.

Now, to feel her dust on my fingers, such a sigh. This one sad little ember of it is all that remains. Kicked me into the ditch and left me to blame, while peasant heart still aches. All little sounds and sniffs forgotten.

Such is the death of things, and the rocket propelled moments when fireworks are right there and everything is back. Over and done, but never forgotten. The book returns to oblivion from whence it had come.

Career Starts… NOW! THE YAY!

I have my volunteer placement interview with NAMI Sacramento on Saturday, and I’m just so excited! I can’t wait to have a job again, and to have a place to go where I make a difference. I’m telling you, from my heart, that having a job is a great way to kick start functionality. If you can convince yourself that pride is important to you, than anything is possible. Wouldn’t you rather be proud than ashamed all the time? Seems like a no-brainer to me… but then again, my brain isn’t the best judge of anything.

So I have already submitted my name as a NAMI Walk volunteer here coming up at the beginning of next month! I have my hours, seemingly, locked in. It will be the doing of the work that I am most looking forward to. I have even offered my skills in getting things down from high places, or lifting heavy things and carrying them a short distance.

I will be happy once my hours are done and I am settling in to a role as a PSS or some such. I think I have a lot to offer with my experiences and my language. I have such an interesting way of spinning the world. Typically, I have something smart assed to say about whatever it is that you have brought to me today. It is my scientific speciality, the poking of you in the eye.

 

In a nice way though. My humor is always so well-meaning, and usually exploiting a straw man of some kind. My typical humorous paper-cut-out targets are Bears (seriously, fuck Bears), Newt Gingrich, Earthquakes and Russia. If one of them isn’t to blame for whatever is happening, it truly is the end of days, and also, I have no joke to offer you either.

 

Thanks for reading, see you later!

Communication Practice

It’s hard to maintain healthy communication skills when you live with people who refuse to practice them. My parents are frustratingly ingrained in their resentment and biases, which makes bridging their disconnects with good communication skills totally impossible. They refuse to shed the cognitive distortions that haunt nearly all of their interactions: My dad the mind reading projector and my mom the all-or-nothing emotional free radical. Together, they hardly communicate about anything that isn’t inherently positive or reflective. Conflicts just keep getting brushed under the rug in their partially dissimilated states; abandoned to frustration and time.

I do hope that as I expand professionally, I can build up more of a tolerance to being consistently rebuffed in my attempts to establish good communications between my parents (or clients) and  still help them improve their ragged partnership. In such a dynamic, the more clear and concise the better, but in my reality, speculation and projection run amok like easy candy out of a cheap vending machine. No one views my way as a superior way to communicate, or are otherwise unmotivated to change for the (what I believe to be the) better. This is frustrating for me, naturally. The people I love the most are the ones I am least able to help.

So, I have to endure a dysfunctional environment with no real hope of improvement for as long as I am living here. In truth, I had suspected that I would not be with them in the same house until the end of their lives, because eventually, I would need a healthier environment to thrive in as the person I intend to be. That man, Westin we will call him, is intending to be a ripple of good in the still, murky pond of life. I know I can impact people’s lives and show them a way towards finding a kind of happiness that makes sense for who they are.

In the meantime, I at least have my own room and place to retreat to in the event I do not want to be a part of the ongoing discourse. Things are moving forward in my path towards re-establishment into relevance… this is more of a personal relevance if anything. I need to achieve, to try for something of worth, and succeed so that the roots of my pride and personality are nourished. It’s a good recipe for avoiding deep depressive cycles, I have found.

 

Have a good day.

Transition Complete!

Hello Blog, I am in a great mood! Over the past 11 days I have moved myself and my family 525 miles north to Sacramento, CA. This is the actual physical reset button being pushed on the whole dynamic and directive. Moving is always one of the most stressful things to endure. It taxes our bodies, and fills our minds with stress. I had many bad days during this run towards transition, however, I did not falter in my responsibility to my family. The only real negative thing that happened the whole trip was that Moo had a can of paint explode on her feet and got all paintafied. She was mad because her shoes died. All in all, that’s pretty damn good considering the potential losses we could have suffered in such an undertaking.

I have a new living space with ample room, of which I am grateful. It will be nice to live here while I get myself independentacated again. It’s only a matter of time before I’m working somewhere self-sustaining. Even then though, I still believe it is a big part of my life now to look after my parents. My dad needs help every day, and to toss that burden casually to my mom for the sake of my independence seems unjust, and not something a family member would do to another. Even if I am making the big bucks, and  I could be living somewhere by myself, I will probably stay with them.

This is the most content I have been in some time. Sitting here in my new abode amidst the twinge of box smell and fresh paint. I am pleased to be here, as I believe I forecasted I would be some time ago, looking down the scope at this day off in the future. It is great to be here, and the cascading erosion of time has left me dusty, smudged and bruised all over.

I’m going to focus on getting the apartment 100% unpacked and situated, then call my peeps and start the lifes.

 

I struggled and endured a huge ordeal, and this can be evidence for you that huge undertakings of epic scale are possible, if worked at, if crushed with persistence and if pursued until completed at all cost. There is no giving up, even when you can’t move your legs. Eat a pop tart, and give yourself a few minutes before getting the fuck back to work.

One day soon, we will be at done. When there, a new kind of ice cream like happy should prevail.

Exposed

Not a great start today. The fact that I live in a dining room is becoming increasingly frustrating. I have no schedule for myself. Everything I can do is contingent upon what someone else is doing or wants. I don’t have a door. I can’t establish an identity in a shared space. This arrangement has me at my breaking point.

I now retreat to my truck outside on the street to get the solitude I require since I have no way to filter noise in my current living space. No one seems to mind my discomfort since I’m not that important in the grand scheme of things. It’s true.

I guess this is a discomfort I need to become accustomed to since it will be present for at least the next two weeks and in some lesser form after that. I’m a vagrant. I’m not going to complain to the conductor that the steerage train cars are filthy. I feel that not a battle I can win or am interested in provoking.

So here I am exposing myself everyday and longing for some shred of privacy in the future. I have no dignity regardless, but I don’t care to be a victim of shame in further opening my life to public observation. Have you ever lived in a dining room or tent outside an RV? Beggars aren’t choosers if they’re smart. Humility is the finest virtue when seeking charity, I find, since it is the only state that doesn’t incur the penalty of guilt. We are all quite familiar with how I can beat myself about the face and neck with the fetid dead cat of self-imposed guilt.

I don’t ask for much. Sometimes I want to be not poked at. Other times the poking is welcome. This morning, I wanted to shut my door to the world but I couldn’t. I just had to leave the whole residence in order to have a moment alone with my thoughts. Without the obnoxious television blaring or the sounds of life stirring. I need quiet, warm, protected.

I find that explaining often goes by misunderstood more often than not. My words largely go unheeded. I am an expert of nothing; a mountebank that people passing by in the cobblestone streets pay no heed. Somewhere in the distance, a duck is quacking loudly but no one cares.

Today is one day closer to the end of this torment. Two more weeks. I can make it two more weeks before igniting the engines and readying myself for blastoff. I have the hard work done, and now the final pieces in which skills are implemented will be my next task to arrange. I just want to be up there. I don’t want to be in this circumstance anymore. Discomfort level high. Not much more room to go before the thermometer pops.

Things might be better if my attitude wasn’t such crap. I don’t have much going on. I’m not proud right now. I want to be committed, needed. I desire to be a part of an organization affecting change. Things are very muddy for me right now.

Well, this post has done little to change my mood, and that’s unfortunate. Reality doesn’t just poof when I want it to, unsurprisingly. Yet, I’m still pissed.