Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
10 days ago I was so excited to see the ocean for the first time in years, but there's no way that will happen this year. I am too sick to drive there, and there would be no enjoyment whatsoever in the drug sickened state that I am in. I might as well look at a Britney Spears video as the ocean, for all the enjoyment or spiritual edification that I would derive from it. Then of course, there would be the dilemma of walking. I can barely goosestep, and I start dragging the bad hip after half a mile, as I try to deal with the pain and handicap of deadened leg, hip, and lower back muscles.
Big mistake coming here. But I am pretty sure this will be the last time. If I want to be miserable, drugged, and down with migraine headaches 24/7, I would rather do it in what seems the closest to home.
Cynthia told me that I don't know how to have fun. I think she picked up on the wrong vibe. I know how to have fun (or at least enjoy life). It is just that I am denied the ability to enjoy myself, and the biggest block of all is the chemical speed that is forced into my body, making my life hateful and odious. My mom wants me to go to some movie, but I have no enthusiasm for it, and I do not have the energy to create the positive vibe--just go and sit somewhere else, with my emotions dead, my mind numb, and my legs feeling like dead wood.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
resolving a lot but too goddamned fucked up to write or reason through. Just got to stay mellow, my mom will throw me in a fucking hospital for rest of my life in a ny minute. Just gotta resolve tita--be like uncle butch. your mother doesnt love you. she is a big part of the problem you have with the goddamned soulless spiritless doctors trying to kill you. Nothing stupid. Christmas from hell. Week from hell. Hang in tita, you are all you have to maintain sanity and self
Monday, December 22, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Now the involuntary muscle spasms and jerks, even in sleep have started again. Now I have my torture cap back on as my congested, csf filled bowling ball of a head is killing me. I took one of my last few fironal to try to get enuf motivation to clean house for oncfe in my life i dont care if il leave a filthy house. im too sick to care. but i have to pack. so goddamned sick
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Saturday, December 13, 2008
I am angry too, because I struggle to read and understand what is going on with my body, and they keep doping me up to the point that I can't see straight. For some reason, tonight I am getting an extra dose--probably so I won't wake up in time to go to church tomorrow, for these moral cretins have not my physical well-being, my emotional well-being, or spiritual well-being on their agenda. I saw another one of their operatives pulling a mind reading trick on me. I hope he got what I sent back--"Prick"--I despise these people and I despise the torture that they have put me through, and I despise all of their secret lies that cloak their immorality, not only in regard to me--though God knows I have received a near fatal dose--but all Americans. But it is okay. Now that I am not deathly sick with serontonin poisoning or parkinsonian levels of dopamine deprivation (boy, now I really do understand that British man who committed doctor-assisted suicide in the Netherlands), I can detach a little bit. The psychic operative reminded me of an age-demented old man in Colorado. I would ride my bike out in the country and everytime I passed his isolated ranch house, he would gleefully drop his pants and start spraying his pee all around like a little boy with a toy gun. I could have avoided that house on my daily ride, but I said to myself, "what the heck, it makes the senile old man's day", and I got a chuckle when I saw how tickled that old man became every time he got to "drop, display, and spray." That is the kind of psychological, emotional, and spiritual immaturity I have to endure at the hands of my tormentors. The only problem is they don't spray their excrement to the wind. They spray it directly on me. But I have been pissed and shit on by them for so many times and for so long, that I am callused now. I have no civil rights left, no bodily boundaries respected, no freedom to pursue liberty or happiness, but I have got an inner human dignity and spirit (which they can't recognize since they don't share it) that they just can't crush. I just got to go deep inside and endure the beating. Fortunately God placed me in a training school for dealing with abuse as a youngster, and made me strong. It is that strength which kept me from having a breakdown while suffering with all their poisonous chemicals and it is that strength on which I rely.
I may never be free to be myself again in this world. But at least I know myself. And right now I am in severe pain, and I need to knock myself out. It is going to be a long, painful night.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
In the meantime, I am thinking of how best to present my case to the doctor for some kind of dopamine agonist. Why not just make a case for RLS? (Because I am not a liar). But I really think I have it--I just didn't recognize it, but I know when I am being drugged because the first place I feel it is in my legs. I want to get up and run but know that my legs won't do it (I have to say--I did 50 minutes of cardio today, and while I am getting some strength and stamina back, I still cannot feel my legs--but it has been so long since I felt them...., and my joints are still stiff and arthritic. Even more clear than RLS though, I suffer undoubtedly from peripheral limb movement disorder. That is part of the reason I am writing this, drinking vodka on top of Tylenol PM to knock myself out, is because my muscles and limbs keep twitching and spasming, in every part of my body, shoulders, legs, feet, even my solar plexus. Nothing new. Has been going on for over three years now, ever since these doctors of evil decided to damage my brain and give me Parkinson's to satisfy their own lazy incompetence at diagnosis (how come I can figure out what is wrong with me after a few hours of reading an anatomy textbook and listening to my own body and symptoms, and they make hundreds of dollar an hour, with all that training and licensure, and knowledge of what is really going on with me, and yet they can't come up with anything close to a solution? No creativity. No ability to think and problem solve. Wrong priorities--all tilted in favor of the pharmacological companies who are destroying our brains and bodies with chemicals). I'm thinking of writing an essay on what is wrong with medical recruitment and training in this country, and forwarding it on to somebody as part of my response to Obam's invitation for ordinary folk's ideas on how to improve medical care in this country.
Then on top of that, there are the brain rushes. I thought the serontonin was causing those rushes, but obviously that is not the case. For I am a lot clearer than I was, though not completely--I can always tell by how bad my eyes our, and after an hour of laying in bed trying to sleep while muscles twitched and brain rushed in waves, my right eye is really bad telling me my head is congested again, and yet the brain rushes continue jerking me awake everytime I start to fall asleep. I tell myself to hold on--that I am seeing the doctor in one week and I hope to get something that helps. In the meantime I ask myself, "am I ever going to feel my legs again?"
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Then, there is the goddamn depression. I had the best of intentions today to get up and accomplish things but I am so lethargic and depressed that it is impossible to do anything. I watched a silent Rachel Maddow on the muted gym TV monitors and was amazed--she actually could show emotion! She had emotion! It seems like so long since I have been able feel, much less show emotion, that it depresses me to the point of despair. Of course it doesn't help that I am in such muscular pain. I know now that I truly have fibromyalgia, and yeah, its a real diagnosis. I can't help but wonder if I am being force-fed some kind of SSRI because my head is "rushing" again like it did when I took Imitrex--a sure sign that there is too much serotonin in my brain--and that is what is causing the damn depression and weight gain. But then again, maybe the hormonal imbalance is just causing the serontonin to back up, like it did with the lithium, causing serontonin inoxication, though not as severe as when I was nearly catatonic.
Only good news is that I think I figured out what is wrong with me, and where the hormonal imbalance is--I need a dopamine agonist--Mirapex is my best guess, to treat my fibromyalgia, and make all the stupid ass idiots who say I am bipolar happy, not a SSRI. I hate to end on this, because not having any medical credentials, I hate to make a claim without backing it up, but I am too sick to get into it any further. I am going to try to go to bed when I am in such pain I dont know how to sleep. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.
Monday, December 8, 2008
But most inspiring of all, Larry Sinclair carries on his crusade when he is seriously ill with a brain tumor. After reading through his blog, I realized how much he is physically suffering, yet he perseveres because he thinks that he is fighting evil (and though I can't make the leap that he does, connecting his limo lover to the murder of Donald Young--though there may indeed be a possibility of connection, but if so, my money would bet on the handlers behind the scene), and I respect the tenacity with which he pursues his quest for truth and justice.
Likewise, I have to forget about my physical suffering and focus what I believe to be the truth, and fight for what is just. At this point, my future, at least for the next four years, and maybe forever, looks unbelievably grim. I never wanted to embrace the vocation of a "Jeremiah", but the role of suffering pariah and outcast seems like the only one left to me, because I will never serve the tools and agents of evil. The hard part is to persevere when I physically feel so sick and drugged all the time. If a man of the moral caliber and fiber of Larry Sinclair can do it, then surely I have no excuse not to try.
Later, in the shower, I reflected on the dream I had last night. I dreamed that I was wearing a mask of a character named "Joanne," and though I knew that I really wasn't "Joanne" people thought I was until I took off the mask. In the shower, I connected the name "Joanne" with the prophet John the Baptizer (Joanne is the feminine form of John). And I thought of John and his uncompromising attacks on Herod and his corruption and immorality. I have to emphasize that attacking Herod and his corruption and immorality is not my vocation, not because I fear for my life (ha! what life?), but just because I have bigger fish to fry. I have to go to the source of the corruption and immorality. I believe that humanity is on the cusp of the greatest demonic attack ever--my vocation as I see it is identifying and confronting evil on a spiritual plane, not a political one (which doesn't mean that evil doesn't have a political front--it does, and it is currently ascendant). I suppose, that like my Lord and Master before me, I will end up crucified, but the truth is, I already am. My life was stolen from me over 10 years ago when the SLI, in their stupidity and polically ambitious cupidity sold me out to the forces of evil. The nails are the psychotropic chemicals and emg brain implants that separate me from soul and spirit and sexual expression, from everything that I enjoy and delight in, from exercise to reading to prayer to simple contemplation to delight in sexual and intimate relationships. . My challenge and vocation right now, as I dimly ("through a glass, darkly") see it, is to somehow strive to find out how I can live a truly human, spiritual, contemplative (all coeval synonyms) when the chemicals and implants alienate me from my deepest ground of being. The solution is not self-evident. Clearly, the institutional churhes (and on the world wide stage, the different religions) are a big part of the problem, all coopted by the evil that their greatest founders and mystics railed against. So, it is up to me, alone, and with what help I can get from a few brave, knowledgeable individuals (and yes they are there and I know who they are) to figure it out...
Sunday, December 7, 2008
My head is "rushing" all the time. I dont know if it is the drugs or the excess csf. My head just feels like it is floating, and it is difficult to see, as the right eye keeps losing focus (the left eye is fine). My legs and hands are as deadened and dulled as my brain and emotions. I find it difficult to walk. My only satisfaction is my inner resolve to suffer unto death before selling out to the powers of evil, and I know who you are now. Unfortunately for me, you are the ones running things. I have to hang on. It is hard when the brain is not working rightr.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Then there is the problem of concentration. Unlike my pre-lithium days, I have to struggle and fight to keep concepts and ideas and facts in my head. My IQ has been effectively halved by the brain implants, and that is a conservative estimate. Of course, that is assuming that I am able to read at all. Sooner or later the muscle spasms are so severe that the pain prevents my brain from being able to function at all.
The only good news is that I am starting to see the bigger picture, and may the mercy of God sustain me and protect me from all the evil that the SLI has sold me out to...
Friday, December 5, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Did yoga today, but yoga is no longer fun, or energizing. Instead, I fight to get through the hour and half, with deadened body and brain. Still it was better than what I am enduring now when I want to hit the goddamned motherfuckers who are responsible for doing this to me. Maybe I will settle on the stupid ass gray haired Christian who is stalking me in gym class. Maybe I will tell him what I really think--so tongue in cheek of course. After Prop 8 failure, I feel the desire to become more radical, angrily radical. Angry because fucked up on psychotropic drugs against my will, I am in constant pain, I cannot live my life the way I want. FUCK YOU ALL....how do you like that for "results" from your goddamned poison. Too sick to care. Dumbass motherfuckers have added speed to their poison. In their insufferable stupidity, they think that makes their poison turn me into their good little girl Catholic who does what she is told, and stays celibate so her queer ass don't offend the faithful...well guess what, faithful...get offended. I'm here, I'm queer, get used to it. As long as I have your sick perverted evil asses destroying my life and mocking my free will, I aint got shit to say to you except leave me the fuck alone. I Got to go to bed, and hope that I dont wake up at 3 am, so sick that I cant bear it, and take another Fiornal to deal with the goddamned pain and nausea.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
That being said, I am in a world of hurt. I have a sick migraine right now, and I already took a second fiornal about three in the morning. It is the third day in a row that I have had to take a second fiornal. So far, it works, dulling the edge of the pain and nausea, but I am afraid to become addicted or desensitized to it, so mostly I suffer. I understand too, now, why I have been so sick that I cant even watch TV. When I am severely autistic, I cant stand any stimuli at all. Seeing the images on TV makes me sicker and overwhelms me. Last night after some fucking Christian perverted Nazi sprayed me again with the drug, I was so sick that I had to keep talking to myself to force my eyes open—I literally did not want to take the stimuli in from the road. Too overwhelming. Now I am keeping my eyes shut because I cannot stand to see letters form on a page. I especially cannot stand to see any faces showing emotion on a web page as I open a browser. My autistic brain absolutely cannot handle the sight of a face with emotions. I also am suffering from severe depression, but how much of that is caused by just being constantly sick wand in pain with migraines, I don’t know. I recognize tho, the depression is all drug related, so I wont act onit. Just got to suffer it.
I thank God I am unemployed. There is no way I could work as fucked up as I am right now. The only thing that I have to do is survive this latest onslaught from hell, and agonize over how many extra pounds my fucking torturers are going to permanently add to my body weight this time. Torture me asshoiles. Go ahead. I want you to know how much I hate you, despise you, and will never ever have anything to do with you. Stay the fuck away from me, you fake, sex hating Christians. Go indulge your perverted sense of religion somewhere else.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Woke up cursing life and cursing God for giving me this miserable, hateful, pain-filled, suffering life, after going to sleep praying to God for death. But maybe God doesn't listen to prayers of people whose souls are completely separated from individuals whose brains, psyches, and spirits are fried and severed by pshychotropic drugs. Certainly, I have no connection whatsoever with God or spiritual life. I am a lab animal,experimented on, without any regard for, or exercise of my free will or choice , a slug, a slave, a thing. In my mind, when I try to find the strength to keep living, I picture people who have endured and survived torture and slavery, people like John McCain or Solzynitsen, or most recently, the thought of all the millions of women and girls who are slave trafficked into prostitution, an institution fed by our sick, pornographic cultures (and don't blame the West you moralistic assholes--this is a product of patriarchal culture, not Western culture--same principle is shared--women are "owned."). I live to survive, hoping to one day regain my humanity. And if I don't, when I die, I hope to present to God the evidence that, at least, in my hidden soul, I retained my humanity, even if I was denied the right and ability to experience and live it. Being human is to be engaged in the exercise of vital powers. For someone like myself forced into a drug hazed suffering of alienation from life energy and reality, barely able to function, like someone with severe case of the flu, when normally I am energetic, productive, and completely in touch with reality, it can only be described as hell on earth, especially when I suffer constantly with physical pain caused by their GODDAMNED SATANIC drugs. But it was my stupidity and my once naive trust in the Spiritutal Life Institute/priests of the Roman Catholic Church, which has resulted in this-- my being sold out to the agents of Satan. I keep asking God for another chance at life, and this time I won't sell out to satanic forces whp blasphemously carry Christ's name, but so far it hasn't come, and I have to accept that it may never come.
So, I have to carry on, no matter how hard. It is turning winter, and I need to do a thorough house cleaning which for me in this condition, is almost impossibly difficult. I have to somehow get the energy to read and follow directions to transfer this blog over, and I HAVE to start writing, however difficult, on a deeper level. I can't leave the formation of culture to lies, profit oriented immaturity, and moral degenerates, which is so much influencing our pop culture. Most especially, I have been jolted by this article: http://www.americanthinker.com/2008/10/who_wrote_dreams_from_my_fathe_1.html, an essay that intuitively I know is true. It addresses much of the disconnects, disconcert, and unease that I experienced while reading Obama's autobiography (I believe that there is another powerful reason for the obvious disconnect and glaring omissions from his life, but that one I won't share, out of respect for his personal life decisions and choices--a politician has to keep his skeletons in the closet). However, what I now realize is that a book that really does not draw from, or is in touch with "soul" (and from a Black man!) or deep human truth and self-realization, and that it was ghost written by a true moral degenerate of the lowest order (and I don't say that lightly, but I know what it means, when my skin crawls every time that I see Wm. Ayers on tv, even without audio--he is a supremely self-assured and privileged sociopath).
I suppose that my realization leads me wide open to the charge of racism which seems to be the Obama's camp favorite weapon of choice against people who recognize and speak out about his limitations (of course he's too "politically correct to say it himself--he relies on the hoodwinked, sold out, Obama-for-ratings-and-profit media, and his surrogates). Bullshit. I remember myself as a young schoolgirl, sitting back in class (I always read books in the back of class, utterly bored by what went on in the classroom), hiding the tears on my face with my hands as I read Black like Me, and Maya Angelou's biography of growing up in the racist south. I remember staying up all night long as a college student (back in the day when a book could make me stay up all night long), completely enthralled by the remarkable autobiography and example of Malcolm X. To this day, I have greater admiration for Malcolm X than I do for MLK Jr, even though I think MLK Jr. was the greater man and "saint." But while MLK Jr. pulled himself up from the pit of racism to reach the pinnacle of great manhood and universal leadership and inspiration, Malcolm X pulled himself up from the pit of hell to become a deeply moral and spiritual man and leader, who was on the cusp of another religious conversion and, most likely, a greatness on the order of MLK Jr., when he was murdered by the Nation of Islam (which now proclaims Obama as the "Messiah"). There is nothing more dangerous to people whose self-identity and self-esteem rests on hatred, than the thought of someone who loves--especially the love of the "enemy."
Among many others, I've even read, and been impressed with the autobiographies of Eldridge Cleaver and (not so much) Hurricane Rubin Carter. I didn't agree with these men or the life choices or ideological conclusions that they made, but my God, did I respect their self-reflective honesty and pain. Both of them were "man enough" to spill their guts, their "soul", out on the page, and myself, and all of humanity is the richer for it. So no, racism does not blind me to the presence of soul on a page, but neither does misdirected, liberal white guilt or media imaged narcissism.
Personally, I have to confess that right now, I am stymied in my understanding of the implications of this realization. How do I feel about voting for a man whose political agenda I overwhelmingly support, but whose whole career has been launched and abetted from a platform of manipulation, lies, and deception, that begins with this autobiography? I don't know. I guess, as I often have in the last few months, go back to square one again. However, I am absolutely convinced that I HAVE to stand for the truth. In a time and age when the writers of America seem to aspire to a selective, convenient, and of course, profitable truth (from all sides of the ideological spectrum), I have to make some kind of honest contribution. I, or my words may be incomplete or harmful, but my God, I can't sit out on the sidelines while people like William Ayers set the agenda, to the point of launching the next likely President of the US based on deception and manipulation of deeply emotional wounds and scars.
I am so happy with my vocation--that of an honest, powerless person. I may be miserable in my life circumstances and slave condition, but deep in my heart I know, that with very miniscule exceptions, I have always been honest with myself, God, and others, and I thank you God, for allowing me the strength to choose that gift, because when I die, I want to present myself to you just as I have presented myself to others. But right now, as miserable as I am, I am alive, and I have to do something but right now I am too sick to continue.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
In constant, miserable pain as the speed spasms the muscles in my back and abdomen, neck and shoulders, totally crippling my left thigh with nerve, as I try to drag it, and my equally dead right leg along. I constantly wonder whether this force-fed speed is just an attempt at mind control. If so, it won't work, because I won't concede my humanity. I go through days and moments when I am "broken", but then comes the memory of my essential humanity which I wonb't sell out, no matter how miserable the pain and suffering.
They can break down my brain though. I desperately want to write what is going on with me, but the mind cannot focus. It cannot read. I tried to read a little of St Augustine's Confessions today, and the effort literally made me sick (makes me wonder what the mindfuckers are so afraid of...--I know that some sadistic security agent somewhere has his finger on the brain implants that make me sick, releasing the chemicals whenever I would attempt to touch base with Truth or Beauty). I may not be able to get in touch with the truth, but I a sure can smell the lies and the liars from far away, and am getting increasingly disgusted at the lies being fed to the American public. But I don't want to focus on outing lies and liars. I just want to focus on the truth, but the truth for me right now is constant pain and torture. Beats being a candidate as a sellout traitor to the human race, just to satisfy personal ambition or comfort.
Then there is the problem with memory loss--I saw my supe from a year ago today, and I was utterly stumped. I absolutely could not remember his name! I read articles, and later in the day can not recall what I read. But I have to try to cling to my humanity even though the mindfuckers would take it away from me. Hang on Tita.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Sunday, October 12, 2008
I am a walking zombie today--every muscle in my body is rigid and locked and I walk and move like the Munster patriarch. That is not the wrost of it though. I feel like I am in the hospital while tons of drugs go pouring thru me. So sick that even getting up to walk to the bathroom is a major feat of accomplishment. It hurts to open my eyes--I cannot take in the stimuli. Yesterday, pretty much when this all started, was a completely wasted day, as I could not take in any visual stimuli at all, but could only lay on the floor with a sheet wrapped around my head while I prayed to God to be released from this horrible suffering. Whatever drugs I am on make me severely autistic. I had went to yoga (big mistake--could barely move, and then I had to drive home when I could not even open my eyes to take in the stimuli), and before leaving the gym I used the toilet. While staring at the advertisement boards facing me, I realized how seriously messed up I was. I could not read the photographic faces staring at me. I had no sense of emotional subtlety or nuance whatsoever. Even now I am so goddamned drugged that I cannot explain it, even though I know what I want to say, but my ability to use language and organize thought is completely gone. Suffice it to say that the faces all looked like they were threatening me, when I know (from having seen the pictures many times before that they were not).
Somehow I managed to get home, by staring at the space in front of me while I tried to keep the anziety from overwhelming me. As soon as I got home I drank some stiff shots of gin. Why? Because I learned when I lived in Rio Rancho, that the only thing that takes off the edge of autistic anziety and stimuli overload is some really stiff alcohol. I would go to sit down to watch TV with my roommate and the time, and I didn't tell her, but the words were absolute gibberish and I had to close my eyes against the images. But I noticed after three or four stiff shots of whiskey that the words made enough sense to follow the program even tho I could not understand the emotions. Well, the alcohol worked -- for about three hours and once it wore off, I could not bear to open my eyes or watch TV. I tried watching football (very familiar) and could not stand to see the movement. All the faces in all the other programs looked like caricatures of evil, and all the people seemed to want to leap out of the tv and attack me.
Thus, these motherfuckers with their poison have forcibly made me mentally ill and autistic to the point that I cannot function in reality. Why? Because they knew that today I was going to go the church again (and guess what assholes---not your church--never), and the one thing they cannot bear is that I am happy, free, and prove myself to be quite functional. No, they want me totally handicapped and sick and unable to function while they shove their poison down me, insisting that the only future I have is in conformity with their plans for me. FUCK YOU! GET IT ASSHOLES! NEVER. As for me, all I can do is lurch about like the zombie I am today. More of my life wasted in the utmost suffering, pain and misery. Heckuva job--Im sure you r proud of yourselves, tools of satan.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Woke up drugged after a miserable day of being drugged to the point of being barely functional. Whatever the poison is this time, it is hard to keep my eyes open, and makes it difficult to read and comprehend what I read. It also does the familiar autistic move of making images from the tv cause motion sickness--in short all this shit makes me autistic. Anyway I dreamed that I was being abused with cleat marks all over my body. Ive been trying to force myself to accept being more sociable, but it is so hard when I am so goddamned abused with these weird drugs in my body making it impossible for me to even function. Typical abuser/abusee relationship--they blame me for the dysfunction their abuse cause! Kind of like the pedophile that blames the kid for being "seductive", they blame me for being dysfunctional socially when it is their repeated abuse--throwing me in jail for falling in love (fuck you assholes, I will love who I love and guess what, you aint included), preventing me from getting and holding a job and interfering with even casual relationships when I do, and making me so goddamned sick all the time with their poisonous Soviet-style psychotropic drugs that it is a monumental effort to relate to other people. But as sick as I am I tell myself that I have to force myself to move forward or else I am going to be at the mercy of these parasitical predators and their goddamned poison for the rest of my life.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Friday, October 3, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Autistic today, while realizing how deep my chemical depression is. I am writing this to notepad because the spy network I am on is denying me the ability to post to my blog. Normally when this happens (and it happens more often than you would think—considering the resources available to my persecutors), I just shrug and say, “manana.” But by tomorrow, I may be completely nonfunctional, so I had better write tonite.
First off, I dreamed of two men in suits last nite—I realized that this dream was confirmation of PTB attempting to manipulate my dreamscape. It’s okay. Used to it by now.
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I had woke up feeling a little better off physically, a fact I attributed to thyroid meds. However, I struggled for mental clarity, and it has just gotten progressively worse. I could actually read a little bit this morning, tho my comprehension was way off;now I wouldn’t even try.
Severely autistic—to the point that I had to turn off the tv—couldn’t bear to watch the ball being thrown in the air and receivers running—gave me motion sickness. I went for a bike ride and tho my legs were dead, I could bike. Imagine my surprise as I came down with weird motion sickness riding my bike down my neighborhood alleyways. Now I am crossing over from that sensation of moving images causing motion sickness to stimul overload (actually it has been going on all day—at one point I could see every whisker on a quarterback’s face, and while biking I could see the brand logo of every car parked on a street). Maybe it is the overstimulation by detail that causes the non function psychic shutdown. Right now I cant keep my eyes open—just don’t want to see anything more.
Then there is the depression. As I talked to my mother today I realized how depressed I was. I talked to her about <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Disneyland. Ive been to the amusement park twice and each time loved it. I loved seeing the enjoyment of the kids and I loved the entertainment and rides, esp the Space Mt. roller coaster which I remember spending two hours just riding over and over again (after 10 pm at nite there were no lines and I would get off the ride and run back to line for another trip). As I realized how I groused to my mom, I thought “well the sobs have turned me into a joyless drone just like them.” There is no more joy and excitement in my life. From the moment I get up to the moment I go to bed, everything is a hardship and a chore. I force myself to work out but there is no joy that accompanies it. I saw apurple and orange sky tonite and my mind said, this is a beautiful sunset, but I felt no familiar joy at experiencing the sunset. Somewhere in my memory I just remembered that this is classified as “beautiful,” and memory tells me that beauty is very important even if I have no existential relation or response to it whatsoever. I am in a chemical prison and my life is hell, and I may never be fully human again. Goddamned rite its depressing.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Hell. Agony. Pain. Unbearable Torment. Sadistic display of suffering. No words can describe the agony I have endured over the last 24 hours. I dreamed that a bullet was fired into my head. Well, according the my dream interpretation, that bullet stands for someone else's aggression against me. I know very well whose aggression it is and why it is there--it is the aggression of Opus Dei operatives (in the employ of three letter security agencies) against me for being lesbian, and for ABSOLUTELY, POSITIVELY repudiating their sick, warped version of religion.
Well, this morning as I sit with eyes that cannot see straight, legs that cannot walk, and a severe headache and backache, I feel something deep within me has changed. For the first time in my life, I feel powerfully committed to helping gays and lesbians, I cannot regain the last 10 years of my life which has been stolen from me, I cannot erase the psychic rape and violation that has occurred at every level of my psychic and emotional being. I may never be a free woman or a healthy woman, capable of even walking normally, again. But I can do my little part to make sure that no other gay or lesbian ever goes through what I have gone through from these hateful, religious zealots.
I know that the problems of the world, and this country are deep and many, and I know that everyone suffers from some kind of affliction or oppression, and since I always look to see the big picture, and I look always to forgive and to get along, I didn't want commit to gay and lesbian advocacy, but now I do!!
I always used to say to myself, "Medeita, most people are not ready for gay marriages, so just look at the big picture and get along." No more. I don't want to get along with conservative Christians anymore. I want to confront them. Whether they recognize me and my orientation, and my declared lifestyle choices and goals is no longer something I dodge or equivocate about.
Sure, I know how deep the evil runs in this country, and the dismal prospects for our future, but my life has been stolen from me, and I can never regain it. All I can do is my part to make sure that no other gay or lesbian person goes through the hell that I have gone through at the hands of Christian fundamentalists. That is my goal and priority in life right now. Everything else is secondary and I leave to God.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Lithium punch has me paralzyed--takes extreme effort of will to lift legs. Happened last nite. Woke up too sick to go to yoga, but I forced myself. Sheer hell. Every five minutes i was looking at clock to mark progress.
Gentle class but I was too dead in my body to function, and everything is so difficult. Typing is difficult. I feel like stephen hawking--a intelligence in a dead non responsive body, but not really cause im too sick to concentrate. Despair over how completely dead my body is. after three years of non stop abuse and torture from religious nuts, i have no reserve left to fall back on. all i can do is lay here in misery and wonder at what point i am going to be crawling to the bathroom instead ofusing my wheeled chair as a walker.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Monday, September 1, 2008
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Mental torment over while physical torment continues--for the third day in a row I am suffering from constant, severe back pain. Usually this happens when I "throw out" my lower back." But I haven't thrown out my back. This pain is all caused by one, or maybe two, three vertebra that are impacted by the pressure of TOO MUCH cerebral spinal fluid going up my back. I can feel it. I think I am being given drugs that are causing too much csf to go into my brain. This not only has a serious negative impact on my eyesight, it is putting too much pressure on my spinal vertebra (I lay on my heating pad and just feel the csf pulsing and surging up and down my spine). This causes the connecting muscles to spasm and lock out of place, and before you know it, I am in severe chronic pain. I have been in chronic back pain before--for three years I suffered with it. It is unbearable. And yoga and exercise doesn't help. It hurts even more, because the vertebra and muscle gets extra strain and stress added to them. This can't continue. Pain is the most debilitating of all factors. Furthermore, I am worried that if this pressure keeps up, the vertebra is going to rupture or herniate, and then I am going to be truly screwed. Whatever is going on is also, like the psychotropic drugs causing stymied energy in my body--I know I have stymied energy when my body starts vibrating. It can vibrate in my solar plexus, my lower back or shoulders or head. It doesn't matter. But this kind of stymied energy makes it impossible to concentrate, to write or even to read. When my energy is free-flowing, I may be hyperactive, but I have tremendous concentration and energy, and I feel good and healthy and alive instead of miserable, dammed and in pain.
Why does this happen? This happens because the people in charge of this operation are constantly trying to warp me to fit their expectations and sense of perfect. Who knows? Maybe the reason I have a calcium imbalance is because my learned body response to counter constant back pain necessitates that. The body has the innate capacity to heal, but it always involves a dynamic interchange. Like I was saying the other day, people with bad backs have overdeveloped glutes--that is how we compensate for weak back muscles. It took me three years of prayer and exercise to get rid of the constant back pain that plagued me. I don't know what exchange that involved, but I know for a fact that I would do it again in a heartbeat. It was a good choice. Chronic pain is unbearable, and I am dismayed that I am suffering it again, now at the hands of my tormentors. I WANT MY BODY BACK!!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Physical pain and suffering and mental torment beyond belief--dont know where to start every muscle in my back is spasmed, i cant walk, i get up my stomach is all messed up. My head is so heavy with fluid that i cant hold it up but How much pain can a person endure, essp knowing that its all caused by drugs i dont want to take
YOU GODDAMNED MOTHER FUCKERS I AM A HUMAN BEING NOT ONE OF YOUR GODDAMNED LABV RATS THAT YOU TORTURED TO GET YOUR DEGREES
O A, A JI,AM BEOMG I AM A HUMAN BEING I AM A HUMAN BEING IAM A HUMAN BEING I AM A HUMAN BEING. WORLD KNOW THAT--KNOW THAT THESE PEOPLE IN CHARGE OF FUCKING ME OVER (AND WHO ARE IN CHARGE OF PREPARATIONS FOR FUCKING THE WHOLE WORLD OVER) DO NOT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HUMAN RIGHTS.
i could go on but i am too sick .
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Friday, August 22, 2008
Another round begins--this time I am being prepped with thyroid medication, in addition to some weird (maybe just very low dose) psychotropic drug. I have to say I am so happy to be on thyroid medication. I still have energy issues caused by the speed, but thyroid medication makes my digestion work so much better. I'm not walking around all the time with a bloated, congested stomach and have a normal appetite, blood sugar regulation, and elimination. Since most of the time I am miserable with digestion and blood sugar problems, due to the denial of thyroid medication, this is a big plus.
I am just waiting for the psychotropics to mark the saturation level in my body/brain, however. I know as soon as it does, I will become physically and emotionally incapacitated and dsyfunctional, as always. In the meantime, today looks like a functional day. I have to take advantage of it. Tomorrow, I may be to sick to move.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Some Opus Dei moron is prescribing prayer--well guess what fuckers...I pray every day. I pray to be free of you, and I pray God for forgiveness for ever trusting the goddamned Roman Catholic church and for my responsibility in the hell that these sick perverts have made of my life. I pray for the freedom to be me--QUEER, sexually and romantically active, and surrounded by people, individuals, whose spirituality welcomes and authenticates the whole person and not some pale cardboard imitation of limp "manhood" (since the conservative Catholics can't even bring themselves to use the word "humanity" (too inclusive, you see) Opus Dei and the Roman Catholic church proclaims as the norm. What does it take for you all to get it? To say I pray... Well, here I am, begging in prayer, I DIVORCE THEE, I DIVORCE THEE, I DIVORCE THEE. GET OUT OF MY LIFE, NOW, FOREVER, FOR ETERNITY. God grant me the dignity to try to restore what's left of my drug shattered brain and drug bloated body. I don't even recognize myself in my own dmv photo. Do you get it you fucking assholes? Your vision and version of "me" is a despicable ersatz facade that I do not acknowledge or accept. Not now, Not11 years ago, when you first began violating every right I have as a citizen and as a human being, and not in a celibate miserable future, depending on sick perverted small minded people for support. Go, leave, let me try to restore my body and my mind and my spirit to some kind of health and happiness. I do not want you in my life. I am not a Roman Catholic. I have despised Opus Dei since I learned of their existence over 20 years ago, my spirituality, my vision and my future are very different from yours. Go in peace, because I swear what I pray for now more than anything is the grace not to hate you for the years of torture, abuse, suffering, loneliness, and relationship ruination you perverts have piled on me in your patriarchal smugness that I am a thing, a slave you own and control to meet your own corrupt agendas. God has to be a pretty big God to answer that prayer. But I will worry about that prayer when God answers the prayer that I pray with every breath--FREE ME FROM THESE RELIGIOUS CULTISTS.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Monday, August 4, 2008
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Woke up today with a clear head for the first time in what seemed weeks. Even more importantly, I looked out my open, screeened door and saw the early morning light hitting the leaves on my neighbor's tree, and felt a soul stirring response. I was actually able to appreciate beauty ! For the first time in weeks! The light in Albuquerque this summer has been just remarkably beautiful--more like the artistic havens of the northern part of the state, Pecos, Taos and Santa Fe. I think it has to do with the cloud overcast caused by the unusually inordinate monsoon rains that we have been welcoming with the unmitigated enthusiasm of a desert people for water.
While intellectually I have been appreciating this unaccustomed weather, and the coolness that it brings to a normal, scorchingly hot summer, I haven't "felt" it--that soul response of gratitude and joy that is related to the psychological feeling function. The drugs have totally separated me from that deep feeling capacity--which is what I believe makes us truly human. It feels good to experience my humanness.
I can't say that life is perfect. I am still on speed, and it is still dragging me down, but compared to the hell I have been experiencing while on those psychotropic drugs, life feels good. Now, I just got to try to "get my legs back." The drugs completed numbed and increasingly paralyzed by legs. When I woke up this morning, I could actually feel my legs for the first time in a long time, but the muscles are still weakened and I find it difficult to walk. So what am I going to do with this great day? Clean house. Who knows, tomorrow I might be all drugged up, and completely incapacitated again. Got to make hay while the sun shines--and it is shining so beautifully today. Thank you, God.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Woke up very sick after a hellacious day yesterday. Sick to the point of not being able to function. Sick to the point of having been told in a dream to have my blood sugar checked for diabetes. I don't need a dream to know my blood sugar is all messed up. I am craving sugar all the time (and I dont have much sugar in the house). My blood sugar crashes all the time and I eat to try to feel better even though I am so damned nauseated. I am nauseated all the time, and am taking fiornal for sick headaches. I had hoped to try to write but the Risperdal like all psychotropic drugs completely undercuts my ability to think rationally and verbally. I can only think in images, and want to spend all day in bed daydreaming in a fantasy world (that is the prime clue that i am on risperdal). I try to watch tv, but now my motion sickness has extended from not being able to watch moving objects (like moving cars) in front of me, to not being able to watch moving images on the tv. Everything looks like it is leaping out at me in another dimension like i am wearing funny glasses. So i am taking dramamine too.
I am pissed off at myself for talking to Dale because I believe I brought this latest round of torture on myself. Everytime I talk ablut spiritual matters the damned, sick, warped Catholic Church starts salivating and scheming on how to bring me in line with their objectives. Well forget it assholes. My spiritual path and destiny lies on a totally different path than yours. I want nothing to do with you or your torture lies and manipulations. I am so sick of being sick.