Monday, July 30, 2007

Hoping I did not make a mistake

Hoping I did not make a mistake by writing a brief postcard to Dr. Huaman.  I thought that I had found a surefire way to bypass the censors, but my dreams tell me that once again, I underestimated the enemy.  They also tell me that currently they are stumped (since they believed their own denials and lies), but experience has taught me to be wary and on the alert. I wrote the postcard to reassure her.  I know what I am feeling, desiring and hoping.  I also know that I am not free to express those emotions, and while I am at peace with my decisions, I doubt that I will ever again write out my intimate  feelings regarding intimate decisions.  Someday, I will explain it to my significant other but for now, all I can do is reassure her of the truth of my feelings against the bank of lies, doubts, and denial that Opus Dei, the SLI, and their allies would have her (and everyone else) believe. "Divide and conquer"-- they used that power play tactic so effectively against Augusta and I, and all the while I was pouring out my heart, thinking that they actually would respect my feelings, or even that it mattered. 

 Who knows what will become of my current hope and desire, for I know that I cannot control the free will of another person.  I do know for certain, however, that I will never accept celibacy.  Sure, I am denied genital expression of my sexuality right now, but I have not, nor ever will accept celibacy in my mind, will, imagination, or self-identity. 

What I do spend my days doing is trying to escape the drugs that cause the physical weakness, lethargy, and insomnia.  I would really like to spend this time of unemployment improving my Spanish or playing music, but after a brief spell of concentration, the drugs make me nauseated, headachy, and downright sick.  So I mostly go to the bosque, but even there, I find myself unable to concentrate enough to read the intense books that I keep opening.  Ever resourceful, I checked out some sci-fi junk reading from the library, but I haven't even been able to get to them.  A really bad night that left me sleeping until 3 pm Sunday afternoon, has left me trying to detox myself.  Even though I have to, I hate to leave the house today, for I know that while I am gone, they will dope up the house again so bad that once again, I will get very sick.  I am so sick of being sick...

Saturday, July 21, 2007

End of a bad week.

I have a terrible headache, I could barely drive home I was so stoned on some kind of drugs, and now my right leg is starting to suffer from the severe nerve pain that my left leg does.  I can tell when I am poisoned by drugs instantaneously.  My leg pain immediately starts throbbing.  I don't need that signal any way.  I can spot a weak and hypocritical Christian whose idea of faith is nothing but co-dependency from a mile away.  It doesn't matter if they are in McDonald's, walking a dog with blue eyes, or are a married couple ambling around a park (you overdosed me, you stupid asses).  I guess they are getting desperate, as I affirm more and more who I am.  I've had some interesting dreams lately.  It started out with a snow storm which is a symbol for emotional repression.  What am I repressing, I wondered.  The next day I dreamed that Cynthia S needed to talk to me, and I really needed to talk to her.  She was flirting with me, and it felt good to flirt with an attractive woman whose body was hot.  To me, Cynthia just represents a really self assured and successful lesbian.  I had the hots for her for a while, even though she is a little too much of an L word lesbian to fit comfortably in with my world view (but I fantasized about a fling with her for a while).  But I still didn't "get" what I was supposed to be emotionally repressing.  So last night I dream that I am trial with that criminal jurist, Denise Shepherd presiding.  She asks me ( and the point of the whole trial--just as is the point of all my agony and suffering, incarceration and forced drugs, for the last two years), "homosexual or heterosexual?"  The question amused me in my sleep and makes me laugh now, even with the damned drugs in my system.  I have been telling anybody who would listen that the reason these religious zealots are power tripping and game playing with my life, is that quite frankly they won't accept my lesbianism.  Well, too bad--all the abuse you have heaped on me have just made me more proud and determined than ever to be queer--and an active queer at that.  I don't buy your lies and your sex hating ideology.  I AM QUEER.  I AM GAY.  I AM A LESBIAN.  I AM A DYKE.  AND I AM PROUD OF IT AND WILL NOT CHANGE FOR YOU OR ANYONE.  In my dream, Jessie was there to support me.  She knew what I was going to be asked, and how I would respond, and had some vodka and orange juice lined up for me.  She had three rows of three shots--one for me, one for her, and one for an unnamed guest  (hmmmm, the special lady I hope to have in my life???, or perhaps Jesus?).  We were celebrating in advance.  I told her that I would take two of the shots since two shots make me mellow and sociable, but three starts the brain fog, and I wanted to be clear.  It was a good moment to be lesbian and to affirm who I was. 

Right now I can only be gay in my mind and fantasies, but you know what, morons--when you dope me up so that I can't concentrate enough to even read, I just fantasize about sex for hours at a time.  That is the only way I can live my sex life now, while you deprive me of life, liberty, and happiness, but the liquor's already poured for the toasting.  I will be who I am, and who I am is a sexually active lesbian.  Get used to it.  Cheers!!!!

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Another day lost

A severe migraine headache finally hit after I wrote that last entry.  None of my usual arsenal--Fiornal or Phenergan, seemed to have any power over it.  So I spent all day yesterday in bed sleeping and dreaming weird dreams.  I am awake today, but I still feel really wiped out.  I have practically no energy for anything.  I look in the mirror and see the marks of intense suffering on my face--especially in the mouth lines that turn downward rather than upward which was the usual position before the lithium poisoning  forever turned them downward.  Whenever I suffer intensely, the downward slant is amplified markedly.  That is what my persecutors just don't get, I think--how much pain, suffering, and even permanent damage they have caused me.  They believe that they are engaged in harmless ego-destroying, but soul uplifting misdemeanors.  I can still see the smirk on their individual faces as I have begged them to quit (Dave Denny of the SLI), or when, in desperation, I have presented myself for medical treatment, or tried to escape the effects of the drugs.  However, I know differently, as do the people who are my true friends and allies.  And it is the memory of my suffering that I will recall when they try to justify their actions to me.  I promise to remember.  In the meantime I plug along.  I am reminded of my college days when I would always spend the first few weeks of the summer unsuccessfully looking for a summer job.  I felt so bad because I thought that I was wasting my summer away.  But now I realize that those were times of much needed rest and contemplation for me.  That is what I am going through now.  I truly believe that there is not enough leisure or contemplation time built into the American lifestyle, so I need to take advantage of this while I can.  No agenda, no reading lists, no projects--just rest and listening to God's word. 

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Peace Once I Reached the Bosque

I am writing this as I sit in the bosque.  I have been doing all of my writing in the woods lately.  I guess that I had better get used to it because it is clear that I am not going to find peace enough to write at home or in the library.  Even now as I write this, I am suffering from a sick headache that assailed me earlier.  It is indisputable that the drugs are causing severe headaches, but this on I blam on myself.  I knew how bad the drugs were, but I did not want to get up and leave until finally at 3 pm, the headache drove me out, as I sought surcease.  I had to take a Fiornal last today, again today, and the way this headache is going, I expect I will be taking a Phenergan later tonight.  Still, despite the pain from a sick headache, I am at peace.

First of all, I finished and delivered the letter to Dr. Huaman.  It has been hanging over my head for over a month and apart from one drug free day at the very beginning, I had to write it in bits and pieces, whenever my head got cleared from the drugs.  My head is not clear now, but it is easier to journal, and I am determined to write.

I guess that another reason for my happiness is because I found an easily accessible refuge from the drugs--the bosque.  It is so fitting because as a child and teenager, the woods were always my place of refuge as well.  The bosque is very different from the Appalachian woodlands of my childhood.  There are significant advantages.  There are fewer briars, no poison ivy or chiggers, and no lethal, completely silent copperheads.  I've been rattled at a couple of times in my life, but at least Southwestern snakes give you a chance to retreat or defend yourself (one of the reasons I walk with a stick).  Still, there is danger--of the two-legged variety.  The bosque is home to the homeless of ABQ--nearly all of whom have substance abuse or mental health issues.  I've already been approached with bad intent close to a major trail, and I am leery of what may happen as I get off the beaten track.

It doesn't help that I just had my hair chopped radically short.  It's always a struggle within myself to get a short haircut.  It is what I prefer--not for looks but just for ease of maintenance.  Unfortunately, every time I get a really short haircut, I have to brace myself for the hate stares, for it compromises my ability to "pass" (as "straight").  Since this most recent haircut, I've encountered two incidents of homophobic hatres--and one was especially venomous.  I'm sorry to say, but I believe that he was an evangelical Christian.  I was in a farmer's market, and it must be owned by a fundamentalist, because all the employees seemed uncomfortable around me, even though I was dressed in my best casual shorts and a femme blouse.  (Anyway, I confirmed it wasn't me because a few minutes later, I was at Smith's where I was treated with the utmost respect and courtesy).  One employee in particular was full of hate.  When he saw me, he vigorously shook the excess water from some turnip greens right into my face.  Thinking it was inadvertent and innocent act, I laughed and said, "That felt good."  Then I saw his eyes and realized that he had done it on purpose.  His eyes were full of homophobic, murderous rage.  He would have spit in my face if he could have.  Christians have come a long way since their founding days--you can spot one now by the way they hate. 

The hatred itself doesn't bother me.  I got used to that years ago as a young lesbian in Claremont.  When I went out into public by myself, I received nothing but courtesy and civil respect from people.  But everything changed when I went into public with Colleen--even though we never so much as held hands together.  Whenever I was with Colleen, I had to run the gamut of hate stares, shock and disapproval.  So I accepted a long time ago, that I cannot control or change people's bigotry or hatred.  Still homophobic hatred can reach a level of severe violence.  My biggest fear now is running into a homophobic psychopath in the bosque, but I still prefer that risk over that of being sick with drugs.   So I'm just going to look at it all as an adventure.  When I was a kid, one of my favorite books was Tom Sawyer.  Like Tom, and his best bud, Huck, I roamed all over the woods of my childhood "backyard" reveling in the freedom of escaping "civilized" rules and restrictions.  I'm 45 years old, but I still am a kid at heart, and I think I'm going to play Tom Sawyer for the rest of this summer, just like I did 35 years ago.  Of course, there are "Injun Joe's" out there, but a girl has got to be free to roam and have adventure.  Of course, my adventurous spirit is more sublimated these days, and I go to the bosque to read, pray, or even just sit and enjoy the beauty of nature. Still, I am getting scratched, bitten, and dismayed from ruining and tearing my white socks and clothes, so I guess my mischievous little child is whooping it up for her last run. 

And, I'm going to wear my hair as short as I want.  For one thing, it's hot and sweaty out here in the woods.  For another, I worry about ticks and Lyme disease.  One of these days, I am going to have a life partner (oh yeah, God and I have been talking), and I am not going to stress about my hair ever again.  The onus of responsibility for determining my hair length shall pass 100% to her.  If she likes my hair short, it will be short, and I will wear it proudly, even when low life machos yell "maricona" out the window at me.  If she likes it longer, I will put up with the aggravation, heat and sweat--just for her. 

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Disheartening Day

I spent all day so sick I could barely move.  Obviously Opus Dei and their buds have decided to pour it on.  I saw two of them in Taco Bell the other day.  I am getting ready to be very confrontive.  I don't care anymore.  They lost me so long ago, and I laugh to think that those poor slobs actually think they can do anything to try to make me have anything at all to do with them or their warped version of reality.  I see Ratzinger has done his part to alienate the ecumenical process again.  I am so glad I gave up Catholicism before his election.  It would be impossible to accept him and his repressive rigidities.  Fortunately, I regard him as so far out on the extreme edge that I don't even have to worry about any kind of response to him, though I would like to talk about what my vision of faith is, but I am too sick to concentrate right now.  That is alright.  I got the rest of my life to lay it out.  I just gotta hold on a little while longer...

Sunday, July 8, 2007

Massive headache

I have a massive headache as I write this.  I have  been unsuccessful in fighting off the drugs all day, and have suffered greatly.  I wrote this yesterday, when despite the heat, bugs, and autism, at least my head was clear enough to write.  

Sitting in the bosque rereading the agony that I went through while I was on lithium.  Every day was like that--straight from hell.  Now I'm on some kind of other weird drug.  This one, like lithium, makes me fat.  As with the lithium, every day, I watch with dismay while my belly spreads and spreads, no matter how little I eat or how much I work out.  I also am very passive and lethargic while on this drug--finding it difficult to physically move or mentally concentrate.  But I must.  My mother counsels me to treat this time as a vacation, and I'd love to.  But I can't read when I cannot concentrate.  I can't go to the gym to work out hard, when, due to wobbly knees and weak legs, I have to baby step down the single stair of my back door. 

I have my backpack out and would love to take a 3 or 4 day hike up into the wilderness.  But I am suffering from svere headaches and generalized weakness of body.  The other day when I went hiking in the mountains, I could barely make it to the trailhead.  Panting and leaning heavily on my stick, I felt as drained, exhausted, and headachy as if I had climbed over 11,000 feet.   With the very real cerebral edema I am suffering right now, I just don't think a solitary backpacking trip into the high country is a good idea.

So there you have it.  Everything that I like to do in my spare time--read, work out or backpack, is limited by the weakened condition these drugs put me in.  I can't even pray when I'm all doped up.  I am separated from my own spirit and center.  But I have resolved that I am going to "enjoy"  this vacation, (and no matter what, I gotta admit, trying to go to work everyday when I'm all doped up is much harder).  So I am very grateful for my unemployment.

So how and why am I going to enjoy this vacation?  Because I know I'm going to win this fight for control of my mind, psyche and soul.  I won't sell out to corrupt religion or evil government.  I resolved a long time ago not to have anything to do with these sick, warped people, but in their book, I'm just another thing to try to control.  They really think that they have the God given right to violate my body, my mind, liberty and self-esteem with ever power (and they are legion) at their disposal.  I don't know if or when the abuse will stop, but I will carry on every day, even though I am suffering, even though it hurts.  You don't own me you bastards, and you will never coerce my allegiance or respect ever again, and so no matter how doped up I am, I am more free than you because I see how rotten, evil and perverse you are, and I stand independent of you.  Thank you God for creating me a free being and giving me the strength to persevere another day.

Saturday, July 7, 2007

Drugs causing Autism

7/07/2007--It was supposed to be a big day for social liberals like myself.  I got an email invitation to join a party nearby, but I am completely unable to socialize, feeling withdrawn, unable to look anybody in their eyes, and realizing that it has been days since I have felt clear of autism.  I am certain now that my autism is getting worse and worse with each passing day.  Today the world was actually frightening, as I walked along in the woods.  By the time I got in the truck, it was difficult to get in and drive home.  Just by chance, I came across a journal entry that I handwrote in January of 2006.  It was written at work while it was really slow.  It reads:


10:02 a.m....late signing in--can't help it. I move too slow.  I'm so high I'm floating.  I can hardly hold my pen.  My hands have no strength.  My head hurts to hold up--severe pain in my cervical spine and ribs that I cannot block.  Totally unable to move my head to any side without pain.  I'm having real difficulty concentrating.  My head weighs 30 pounds.  I'm so passive, I can't take charge of a call.  God, I'm suffering so bad.  I just want to be home lying down.  Can't function. Can't function.  Can't function.  Every day at work is agony.  I sit here high and sick, unable to move, unable to think, unable to function--on some kind of alienated auto pilot.  I sit here, lolling in my chair, head turned to the side.  Can anyone imagine what it is like to be tethered to a phone, high as a kite, unable to move, unable to think, unable to feel?  Just a deep desire to sleep sleep sleep sleep--release this body from existence so feel free again, spiritual again, joyful again.  It seems like that will never happen again. 

A woman just got ecstatic on me re: her credit score.  I could feel none of her joy.  My empathy has totally  been cut off.  No feelings whatsoever--alienated from all feeling.  God will I ever feel joy again?


Totally, utterly sad. Tears rolling down my face--unable to feel anything but black hole depression as I feel the drugs coursing through my body.  I hate my body.  I hate my life.  I want it over.

unable to remember/depression/feelings of self-hatred and loathing esp towards body/headaches/mood swings/tears rolling down the cheek

Tiedto this phone like a chain."

I survived that round.  Now I am in another.  Those sick,power tripping doctors have got me experiencing autism on a daily basis.  But their damned poison has already left its mark on my body and psyche, and I have no resistance whatsoever to whatever they are giving me.  I may yet become an autistic vegetable--that would make the damned Opus Dei happy--at least they could rest easy that I would be in enforced celibacy.  As for the government, they don't care.  They probably have another lab rat already lined up to be violated and abused.  But I am determined to leave a record.  I may die, "disappear," (yes, here in the USA), or become an autistic vegetable but at least I will leave a record.




Friday, July 6, 2007

Am I ever going to be free of drugs ever again?

It's been a long time since I have written--mostly it takes all my energy to get up and go to work.  I am on some kind of drug (Gabapentin?) that totally zaps me of any energy or initiative.  Physically, I am so weak that I cannot walk. All I can do is lay in bed or watch TV.  I am suffering from severe insomnia.  I have been trying to write one letter for over a month.  I had one "clear" day, when I was not doped up, but since then I have been trying, not very successfully, to detox myself, so that I can finish it.  I go to public places, but I am "dusted" with whatever the drug flavor of the day is.  I recognize, almost instantaneously, the people who are doing it (the Christians are outsourcing now), and when it happening, but I cannot stop it.  The good news is, that since I am unemployed, I can rest.  I am tired of fighting to try to live a normal life while I am being drugged. I am just going to go on a vacation of sorts for a while.