Book 3 Chapter 6
I was asked recently if I had been writing in my journal. The answer is of course no. I have not felt that I have wanted to. I am worried of what I may find inside. The journal topic is supposed to be about a conversation I had today with my friend. About trying and not getting anywhere even when we try, if no production is made is that ok or not, even when we have tried? When it comes to things such as a reality situations example; money. Trying and not succeeding does not amount to a hill of beans.
I have placed myself in a corner and dragged people down with me into this pool of self loathing and hating. Not meaning to but still doing it because I can not seem to change my actions.
My life has created a situation where I can not but change my actions. A few weeks ago, about the time of my last blog post, I began to face more medical problems than I expected. It is not a convenient thing to carry a lap top around from medical appointment to medical appointment all over NYC. Since I have been writing on the computer instead of in a note book by hand this time, my chapters fell behind and I am trying to keep my journal in some sort of order, unlike the order in my life at this current time.
My head has been spinning with everything going on and survival. I know I talk a lot about survival but those who live here know it is a Jungle and survival of the fittest no matter what your handicap; being an idiot savant or actually having medical issue be it physical or mental, in NYC there is no excuse for not surviving. If you think you have an excuse in NYC not to survive you need to move. Really.
I am thinking this chapter will be more focused on things going on around me and to me rather than items that affect the world at this time.
Originally when I started this book, “My Life on the A Train” it was over a bowl of poorly made French onion soup, a glass of Merlot, and a crappy day at the Drs Office on a Crisp October day in 2008. Oh and I had a new journal in my hand with a fresh pen. A bomb shell had been dropped on me about my issues of PTSD and things of that nature. That I needed help and I could get that help from the Government. Mind you, if you are reading my blogs from the beginning, the Government and I do not get a long all the time. I am usually writing about them, not working with them. Case in point, I covered a little case called Guantanamo Bay…You may have heard of that nice Beach Vacation place and unlike most journalist, I was not censored. The Government and I are BFF.
http://angelicfaith.blogspot.com/
http://faythespoetry.blogspot.com/
I knew over that bowl of soup that if I did not start to journal again I would loose myself in my own insanity. I am not sure what was said to me that day that made me start that journal. It is hand written and well honestly, not with me right now in my current location. I know that it started over, a bowl of French onion soup and a diagnosis of PTSD to a extreme. Oh yes, and I had just read “Go ask Alice.” Which by the way, unless your therapist suggest it, I would not recommend reading it lightly, if read at all. It is a very hard hitting book you could say and it put me in a place of thinking about this girl I had read about and where she was and what happened to her after she stopped using a journal.
I felt a great deal of hopelessness after reading that book. I had read it at a very low part of my life and writing has been such a large part of my life. It is my use of therapy that was suggested by therapist. I truly believe if Alice would have continued to write, things would have been found out or well she would be alive. I wanted people out there, if they had read this book/blog, to know that there is hope out there, that you are not alone. That you did not have to stop living even with trials that face you on a daily basis.
I am not sure where that hope is but if you are still moving it is there. If you are still opening your eyes, there is still hope. Somewhere inside there is something telling you to move forward. Do not give up, do not give in. So, you are being attacked, physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically, environmentally, and the list goes on. Think about it, every day you move, you have hope, hope leads to life. What you choose to do with that life is up to you. No one gave you a life’s little instruction book when you were born, you don’t get one now.
Humor, people, humor. Laughter is the best medicine honestly.
I have not written because I have been sitting in this big self wallowing pity party of sorts. Life has in a way become overwhelming at an alarming rate. I can not stop the spinning world around me right now, it has sucked me into the eye of the storm and to leave would be a self suicide. So you have to move forward and come back to reality. Snapback and realize what you are doing and who you are hurting, including yourself, when you become one in that drowning pool of self wallowing.
When I started this journal, it was self therapy. Now I have a Psychiatrist (http://www.mentalhealthchannel.net/psychiatrist.shtml ), a psycho therapist (http://www.mentalhealthchannel.net/psychotherapist.shtml ), and a journal to spill my guts out to. If you think about this whole process, I have no idea why I started it. I just knew I had to, to keep my sanity until I got a licensed therapist to handle my issues. I need a person with a license in this case because there is a great deal being thrown at me all at once, besides that, only someone with a license should be allowed to handle me anyway. My bedroom door has a sticker that came from Belleview that lets visitors know I bite. FYI
I am holding on to Faith with so much hope that I can continue on every day. I will be honest, sometimes, that is even a hard thing to hope for. See my body has become wracked with pain, since last I wrote. I think it is important for you to know where I am not only mentally but physically at this time. Not for sympathy, but so you are aware of my life at this moment in time.
On the days my hands are not giving me issues my depression kicks in so hard I can not focus on writing words to express what I am going through. As much as I write for education and what not as you have read in my beginning chapters, education of myself and sharing myself was part of the deal when I started writing these journals, I did not know how painful some of the things would be as I wrote it, perhaps had I, I would have not started this journal online in the first place.
I know my thoughts are random at times and very confusing to say the least. I write as my train of thought thinks. If you understand that statement, we are on the same A train ride. Welcome aboard; please stand clear of the closing doors. Bing, bong…Ok NYers, are laughing there, I know you are there. Represent.
I often wonder if others think the way I do. See the things I see. Question the things I question. I often feel so different than the rest of the scope of the world. That my blind Faith leads me to cross traffic in NYC with out a thought sometimes. Are there other Pollyanna’s out there that say, “I know right now everything sucks, but hey, it’s ok., it will all be ok somehow.” Do they see as I do what is happening to us right before our eyes.
I know I do. I know I can present it in a form that can be read. Shared. Sometimes it is wonderful to know that there are people out there that think alike. We know we are not alone. We are not crazy even when the world says we are. Please be patient with my scattered thoughts in the next few stops of the A train, it is a bumpy ride. There are pauses between stops in the tunnels or on the bridge depending upon where you are at that point and time on the train. Hold on, it is only a passing moment. I have had to put this into perspective of the reality of my life at this moment and time.
Also I must explain, I jump around a lot because my mind is a lot like this department store and I often look around in there when I am writing or speaking and some other section comes out. I can be in Lady’s clothes and end up in Electronics with no explanation as to why. I will eventually make it back to the dresses I was looking at but for right now there are shiny things in the Electronics department I must go to and play with.
As this concludes our book/blog cast day. Thanks for joining me on the ride.
I have placed myself in a corner and dragged people down with me into this pool of self loathing and hating. Not meaning to but still doing it because I can not seem to change my actions.
My life has created a situation where I can not but change my actions. A few weeks ago, about the time of my last blog post, I began to face more medical problems than I expected. It is not a convenient thing to carry a lap top around from medical appointment to medical appointment all over NYC. Since I have been writing on the computer instead of in a note book by hand this time, my chapters fell behind and I am trying to keep my journal in some sort of order, unlike the order in my life at this current time.
My head has been spinning with everything going on and survival. I know I talk a lot about survival but those who live here know it is a Jungle and survival of the fittest no matter what your handicap; being an idiot savant or actually having medical issue be it physical or mental, in NYC there is no excuse for not surviving. If you think you have an excuse in NYC not to survive you need to move. Really.
I am thinking this chapter will be more focused on things going on around me and to me rather than items that affect the world at this time.
Originally when I started this book, “My Life on the A Train” it was over a bowl of poorly made French onion soup, a glass of Merlot, and a crappy day at the Drs Office on a Crisp October day in 2008. Oh and I had a new journal in my hand with a fresh pen. A bomb shell had been dropped on me about my issues of PTSD and things of that nature. That I needed help and I could get that help from the Government. Mind you, if you are reading my blogs from the beginning, the Government and I do not get a long all the time. I am usually writing about them, not working with them. Case in point, I covered a little case called Guantanamo Bay…You may have heard of that nice Beach Vacation place and unlike most journalist, I was not censored. The Government and I are BFF.
http://angelicfaith.blogspot.com/
http://faythespoetry.blogspot.com/
I knew over that bowl of soup that if I did not start to journal again I would loose myself in my own insanity. I am not sure what was said to me that day that made me start that journal. It is hand written and well honestly, not with me right now in my current location. I know that it started over, a bowl of French onion soup and a diagnosis of PTSD to a extreme. Oh yes, and I had just read “Go ask Alice.” Which by the way, unless your therapist suggest it, I would not recommend reading it lightly, if read at all. It is a very hard hitting book you could say and it put me in a place of thinking about this girl I had read about and where she was and what happened to her after she stopped using a journal.
I felt a great deal of hopelessness after reading that book. I had read it at a very low part of my life and writing has been such a large part of my life. It is my use of therapy that was suggested by therapist. I truly believe if Alice would have continued to write, things would have been found out or well she would be alive. I wanted people out there, if they had read this book/blog, to know that there is hope out there, that you are not alone. That you did not have to stop living even with trials that face you on a daily basis.
I am not sure where that hope is but if you are still moving it is there. If you are still opening your eyes, there is still hope. Somewhere inside there is something telling you to move forward. Do not give up, do not give in. So, you are being attacked, physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically, environmentally, and the list goes on. Think about it, every day you move, you have hope, hope leads to life. What you choose to do with that life is up to you. No one gave you a life’s little instruction book when you were born, you don’t get one now.
Humor, people, humor. Laughter is the best medicine honestly.
I have not written because I have been sitting in this big self wallowing pity party of sorts. Life has in a way become overwhelming at an alarming rate. I can not stop the spinning world around me right now, it has sucked me into the eye of the storm and to leave would be a self suicide. So you have to move forward and come back to reality. Snapback and realize what you are doing and who you are hurting, including yourself, when you become one in that drowning pool of self wallowing.
When I started this journal, it was self therapy. Now I have a Psychiatrist (http://www.mentalhealthchannel.net/psychiatrist.shtml ), a psycho therapist (http://www.mentalhealthchannel.net/psychotherapist.shtml ), and a journal to spill my guts out to. If you think about this whole process, I have no idea why I started it. I just knew I had to, to keep my sanity until I got a licensed therapist to handle my issues. I need a person with a license in this case because there is a great deal being thrown at me all at once, besides that, only someone with a license should be allowed to handle me anyway. My bedroom door has a sticker that came from Belleview that lets visitors know I bite. FYI
I am holding on to Faith with so much hope that I can continue on every day. I will be honest, sometimes, that is even a hard thing to hope for. See my body has become wracked with pain, since last I wrote. I think it is important for you to know where I am not only mentally but physically at this time. Not for sympathy, but so you are aware of my life at this moment in time.
On the days my hands are not giving me issues my depression kicks in so hard I can not focus on writing words to express what I am going through. As much as I write for education and what not as you have read in my beginning chapters, education of myself and sharing myself was part of the deal when I started writing these journals, I did not know how painful some of the things would be as I wrote it, perhaps had I, I would have not started this journal online in the first place.
I know my thoughts are random at times and very confusing to say the least. I write as my train of thought thinks. If you understand that statement, we are on the same A train ride. Welcome aboard; please stand clear of the closing doors. Bing, bong…Ok NYers, are laughing there, I know you are there. Represent.
I often wonder if others think the way I do. See the things I see. Question the things I question. I often feel so different than the rest of the scope of the world. That my blind Faith leads me to cross traffic in NYC with out a thought sometimes. Are there other Pollyanna’s out there that say, “I know right now everything sucks, but hey, it’s ok., it will all be ok somehow.” Do they see as I do what is happening to us right before our eyes.
I know I do. I know I can present it in a form that can be read. Shared. Sometimes it is wonderful to know that there are people out there that think alike. We know we are not alone. We are not crazy even when the world says we are. Please be patient with my scattered thoughts in the next few stops of the A train, it is a bumpy ride. There are pauses between stops in the tunnels or on the bridge depending upon where you are at that point and time on the train. Hold on, it is only a passing moment. I have had to put this into perspective of the reality of my life at this moment and time.
Also I must explain, I jump around a lot because my mind is a lot like this department store and I often look around in there when I am writing or speaking and some other section comes out. I can be in Lady’s clothes and end up in Electronics with no explanation as to why. I will eventually make it back to the dresses I was looking at but for right now there are shiny things in the Electronics department I must go to and play with.
As this concludes our book/blog cast day. Thanks for joining me on the ride.
posted by Aingealicia at
8:10 PM
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