I feel my skin crawling, and I cannot do anything about it. It is a constant feeling, and it never gives in for a moment to let me regain strength. I don't like being the weaker person, but I am so far from perfect. I don't know if I can be the person he expects me to be. I act first think later. I have not grown out of this immature action. I still react without thinking. I am trying to control myself, but like a child I react to being ordered around. I feel myself wanting to run left instead of going right. I feel like I have failed, and I need to just stop before I hurt more people. I seem to be on this ridiculous road of self destruction. I do not know if it is my disorder or just me being the naturally selfish bitch that I have always been. I do not stop myself from writing or saying what first comes to my mind because I never have before. I have not even censored myself for my own parents. I know I can hurt others, and it is not my intention to do this.
I just fuck up because I am fucked up. It is simple really. What is not simple is trying to control my thoughts and actions when I feel loss of control. I want to run. I want to just escape from feeling this tension this disappointment and shame. I am in the fetal ready to end it all except I don't have that option because I have these midgets that need and love me despite the person I really am inside.
Inside my head I run every scenario. What would happen if? I took one too many pills and died. What would happen if? I let go of what is left of my sanity and go straight to the straight jacket. What if, I am never truly happy? What if, I keep self destructing until I am strung out living alone on welfare. Like a good Catholic I think this type of shit is what I need to experience for forgiveness.
I am just so tired. I'm tired of not being trusted because quite frankly I can't be. I don't like the new paranoia that keeps me up day and night and even invades my dreams. I know the hatred and disgust you have for me.
it is what it is.
Hippie Girl's Monolgue
I am a child of La Luna
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
How I remember those lives lost on September 11, 2001
Since 9/11 I have always lit a candle in memory of those lives lost. I light it and place it somewhere safe so that i may burn the entire day until midnight. This is my way of never forgetting the day that completely changed our lives.
Do something to honor those lives lost.
xoxo
drea
Do something to honor those lives lost.
xoxo
drea
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Poetry
Poetry
I watch your eyes as they follow my body from head to toe
Leaning forward slowly to give you a better view
We have waited long enough for the inevitable
You are going to wear me well when I am draped across you
Blue eyes fixated on me...I want to be your dirty girl fantasy
I follow your lead as you grab my hand and lead me to your room
The taste of your kiss is sweet like sugar...
But your hands are confident and aggressive as you explore
Move me like you want me just keep your eyes coming back to mine
As clothing falls to the ground
I feel your skin on my skin and submit to you
Take me as I am and show me you can love me like I so desperately need
We connect with the strength of two magnets
Loss of hours and all surroundings
I am completely yours and you are all for me...finally
And like all other things in my life...I found love in my faithful sins.
xoxo
drea
I watch your eyes as they follow my body from head to toe
Leaning forward slowly to give you a better view
We have waited long enough for the inevitable
You are going to wear me well when I am draped across you
Blue eyes fixated on me...I want to be your dirty girl fantasy
I follow your lead as you grab my hand and lead me to your room
The taste of your kiss is sweet like sugar...
But your hands are confident and aggressive as you explore
Move me like you want me just keep your eyes coming back to mine
As clothing falls to the ground
I feel your skin on my skin and submit to you
Take me as I am and show me you can love me like I so desperately need
We connect with the strength of two magnets
Loss of hours and all surroundings
I am completely yours and you are all for me...finally
And like all other things in my life...I found love in my faithful sins.
xoxo
drea
Back To Writing
When I get in one of my moods, the first thing I stop doing is writing. I don't know if it is some kind of punishment to myself or what. No matter what I try, I cannot write anything with emotion or substance. This is frustrating to me. so why push it? I would rather write nothing than write bullshit that makes no sense to anyone but me.
So many changes have happened in my life over the past few months. Especially since the last time I posted to this blog. (BTW I write for myself and my mental health) Moving into a new home soon, which is amazing for our family. The place we live in now is way too small for us. The kids are too big to be in this small of a place. I'm anxious to be moved and in my big ass new house hehehehe.
Life is being half way decent to me considering how shitty it has been for the last few months. We deserve some good mojo.
So many changes have happened in my life over the past few months. Especially since the last time I posted to this blog. (BTW I write for myself and my mental health) Moving into a new home soon, which is amazing for our family. The place we live in now is way too small for us. The kids are too big to be in this small of a place. I'm anxious to be moved and in my big ass new house hehehehe.
Life is being half way decent to me considering how shitty it has been for the last few months. We deserve some good mojo.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
"Remembering Teresa
March is a happy and sad month for me.Happy because it is my best friends birthday month, but it is also sad in that it is the same month I lost my cousin.I also lost a childhood friend just last year around this time too.My childhood friend died in a horrible car accident, and my cousin took her own life 5 years ago on the 26th. I am very analytical. To the point that it can be a huge burden because I never let my mind fully rest. I feel the sadness of the loss of both of these people because they both played big roles in my life, but I was closest to my cousin.
My cousin’s name is Teresa, and she was the person I looked up to my entire life even when I said I thought she was stuck up. We were both competitive because we were two of only three girls in our family. She was beautiful. She had everything I wanted. I dreamt of having her long dark brown hair that always hung below her shoulders when we were children. She also had the beautiful morena skin that I so desperately wanted because I looked like no one in my family. I had blonde hair and brown hazel eyes. I just wanted to look as pretty as my cousin. It was not until we were in our twenties that we finally admitted we envied each other for the exact same reasons. I remember that moment because we started giggling, and we had not laughed together in such a long time I had forgotten we sound exactly the same. Only Teresa had a natural laughed that literally sounded like “heheheheheheeeee”. I smile because I can hear her laugh in my head as I write about it now. We went for a spell without talking as we each went through the craziness of being teenagers. When I was 17, she realized I was not so perfect like her mother apparently told her to be used as a tool against her just as mine did of her with me. Our mothers were one topic that bonded us forever. We had mothers we could not understand although she understood my mother, and I always understood hers.
Teresa and I were “bad girls” because we were both very independent and too smart for our own good. When we realized we had each other to rely on, we got along better with the rest of our family because we realized it was she and I versus them. We thought they were crazy. They thought we were crazy. We shared a great deal of time writing and talking on the phone. More than most of our family realized. We shared secrets. We were as close to sisters as either of us cared to be. I was heart broken when she decided to move to Barcelona, Spain. I was also proud of the fact that she was literally living out our dream. To live abroad, be wild and single, and explore the world together. We had it mapped out. I just did not have the funds to get me to Spain, so I worked here as she kept me up to date via email, letters, and postcards. We kept in touch, and we still shared everything with each other. She always came to me for advice on men, and I thought it was cute because she was so beautiful and older than me. She just loved assholes!
When I decided to get married and have a baby, she did not know how to react. We had a plan to stick to, and she could not understand my desire to be a mother or wife. She tried her best to be supportive, but we both were overwhelmed with other things in our lives. We drifted apart especially during my pregnancy. My cousin and I shared many things in life. Illness included was included in this list of shared things. We were both manic-depressives. We both had such tremendous change going on in our lives it took its toll on both of us. She finally came back to the states for a visit during the holidays when my son was about to be one. We are both very proud people. We were very guarded with each other. Had I known that that would be the last time I would be in the same room with her I would have done everything different.
I remember her holding Ethan, and she was bouncing him on her lap. She could not believe that I had a blonde hair blue eyed baby. We spent the evening sitting across from each other having small talk, but we never picked a subject that could potentially set the other one off. My family had to leave early that night because the baby was cranky. I knew I would not see her again before she left so I told her goodbye and to have a safe travel back to Barcelona. We embraced, and I remember she squeezed me tight holding on a bit longer. I remember not knowing how to react.
The morning I found out she died. I do not remember the entire day. It is in segments in my memory because I felt like I was in a bad dream. I was brought to my knees as soon as I heard “Teresa is dead” come out of my dad’s mouth. I remember hitting the floor, and I was unable to control my breathing. I remember my husband trying to help me as he tried to piece together what was going on. She was cremated because we knew that is what she wanted, and she had made it known to everyone one night during a heavy discussion. I said I wanted to be buried face down so everyone could kiss my ass. I later agreed to be face up only if my hands were crossed on my chest giving the middle finger. This is what I do! I make light of things. Teresa thought it was funny. She even said she would make sure it was enforced if I went first.
The last time I “saw” my cousin, she was in a shiny gold urn set next to a multi-colored cross-made out of various stones. I came into the funeral home late because I could barely get myself there. My husband is the only reason I went. I did not want to see her. As everyone is ushered out of the funeral home to say his or her final goodbye before she is entombed at the cemetery. I was the last to go. I knelt before this cross set next to my cousins gold urn. I said my prayers, and I talked to her. I asked for forgiveness because I allowed my pride to rob me of many wonderful years while I had two small children. I ignored my intuition days before she killed herself because I was too fucking proud to email her first. I am aware that I would not have been able to save her. I just wish I would have tried when I felt it inside me that she needed me.
My cousin was a gorgeous and passionate woman who only ever wanted to be loved. She traveled the world. Lived life to the fullest, but she was also an untreated manic-depressive. She withdrew from family and friends. When she withdrew and hit bottom, she was all the way in Spain. We were not near to tell her we loved her. To remind her that we cared, and we didn’t judge her for leaving the country. I personally was not there to remind her, hey bitch take your fucking meds! We were the only ones who knew that we shared “madness”. When she left, I had to tell her mother because she was blaming herself. It is what happens to people like “us” whose brains function differently from other people. At this point in life, I have lived longer than my cousin. The thought brings tears to my eyes. I still at curse her because she left me to deal with her mother and my mother the entire fuck by myself! It has been a few years, and it is still not easy. I still sit and cry some days.
This year I will do the same thing I have done since her death. I light a white candle in her honor that I have pushed my own energy into, and I do not let the flame go out until it goes out on its own. I place roses near her photos. I fix a pitcher of Sangria and fruit, and I drink it all down like a champ. Have a few HRFs in her name. Listen to her favorite music. Remember how much I shared with her in our short time together, and I think of other ways that I can honor her because she will not have died in vain. My cousin is the most beautiful person I have known. There is a small part of my heart gone inside me that died the day she did. I promised myself to never forget her. I will never be ashamed of the way she died as if it is a dark family secret. Own up to your mistakes! I did! She will live in me, and she will get her way as usual. She will always be young and sexy.
By: Drea Rives
© March 18, 2010
My cousin’s name is Teresa, and she was the person I looked up to my entire life even when I said I thought she was stuck up. We were both competitive because we were two of only three girls in our family. She was beautiful. She had everything I wanted. I dreamt of having her long dark brown hair that always hung below her shoulders when we were children. She also had the beautiful morena skin that I so desperately wanted because I looked like no one in my family. I had blonde hair and brown hazel eyes. I just wanted to look as pretty as my cousin. It was not until we were in our twenties that we finally admitted we envied each other for the exact same reasons. I remember that moment because we started giggling, and we had not laughed together in such a long time I had forgotten we sound exactly the same. Only Teresa had a natural laughed that literally sounded like “heheheheheheeeee”. I smile because I can hear her laugh in my head as I write about it now. We went for a spell without talking as we each went through the craziness of being teenagers. When I was 17, she realized I was not so perfect like her mother apparently told her to be used as a tool against her just as mine did of her with me. Our mothers were one topic that bonded us forever. We had mothers we could not understand although she understood my mother, and I always understood hers.
Teresa and I were “bad girls” because we were both very independent and too smart for our own good. When we realized we had each other to rely on, we got along better with the rest of our family because we realized it was she and I versus them. We thought they were crazy. They thought we were crazy. We shared a great deal of time writing and talking on the phone. More than most of our family realized. We shared secrets. We were as close to sisters as either of us cared to be. I was heart broken when she decided to move to Barcelona, Spain. I was also proud of the fact that she was literally living out our dream. To live abroad, be wild and single, and explore the world together. We had it mapped out. I just did not have the funds to get me to Spain, so I worked here as she kept me up to date via email, letters, and postcards. We kept in touch, and we still shared everything with each other. She always came to me for advice on men, and I thought it was cute because she was so beautiful and older than me. She just loved assholes!
When I decided to get married and have a baby, she did not know how to react. We had a plan to stick to, and she could not understand my desire to be a mother or wife. She tried her best to be supportive, but we both were overwhelmed with other things in our lives. We drifted apart especially during my pregnancy. My cousin and I shared many things in life. Illness included was included in this list of shared things. We were both manic-depressives. We both had such tremendous change going on in our lives it took its toll on both of us. She finally came back to the states for a visit during the holidays when my son was about to be one. We are both very proud people. We were very guarded with each other. Had I known that that would be the last time I would be in the same room with her I would have done everything different.
I remember her holding Ethan, and she was bouncing him on her lap. She could not believe that I had a blonde hair blue eyed baby. We spent the evening sitting across from each other having small talk, but we never picked a subject that could potentially set the other one off. My family had to leave early that night because the baby was cranky. I knew I would not see her again before she left so I told her goodbye and to have a safe travel back to Barcelona. We embraced, and I remember she squeezed me tight holding on a bit longer. I remember not knowing how to react.
The morning I found out she died. I do not remember the entire day. It is in segments in my memory because I felt like I was in a bad dream. I was brought to my knees as soon as I heard “Teresa is dead” come out of my dad’s mouth. I remember hitting the floor, and I was unable to control my breathing. I remember my husband trying to help me as he tried to piece together what was going on. She was cremated because we knew that is what she wanted, and she had made it known to everyone one night during a heavy discussion. I said I wanted to be buried face down so everyone could kiss my ass. I later agreed to be face up only if my hands were crossed on my chest giving the middle finger. This is what I do! I make light of things. Teresa thought it was funny. She even said she would make sure it was enforced if I went first.
The last time I “saw” my cousin, she was in a shiny gold urn set next to a multi-colored cross-made out of various stones. I came into the funeral home late because I could barely get myself there. My husband is the only reason I went. I did not want to see her. As everyone is ushered out of the funeral home to say his or her final goodbye before she is entombed at the cemetery. I was the last to go. I knelt before this cross set next to my cousins gold urn. I said my prayers, and I talked to her. I asked for forgiveness because I allowed my pride to rob me of many wonderful years while I had two small children. I ignored my intuition days before she killed herself because I was too fucking proud to email her first. I am aware that I would not have been able to save her. I just wish I would have tried when I felt it inside me that she needed me.
My cousin was a gorgeous and passionate woman who only ever wanted to be loved. She traveled the world. Lived life to the fullest, but she was also an untreated manic-depressive. She withdrew from family and friends. When she withdrew and hit bottom, she was all the way in Spain. We were not near to tell her we loved her. To remind her that we cared, and we didn’t judge her for leaving the country. I personally was not there to remind her, hey bitch take your fucking meds! We were the only ones who knew that we shared “madness”. When she left, I had to tell her mother because she was blaming herself. It is what happens to people like “us” whose brains function differently from other people. At this point in life, I have lived longer than my cousin. The thought brings tears to my eyes. I still at curse her because she left me to deal with her mother and my mother the entire fuck by myself! It has been a few years, and it is still not easy. I still sit and cry some days.
This year I will do the same thing I have done since her death. I light a white candle in her honor that I have pushed my own energy into, and I do not let the flame go out until it goes out on its own. I place roses near her photos. I fix a pitcher of Sangria and fruit, and I drink it all down like a champ. Have a few HRFs in her name. Listen to her favorite music. Remember how much I shared with her in our short time together, and I think of other ways that I can honor her because she will not have died in vain. My cousin is the most beautiful person I have known. There is a small part of my heart gone inside me that died the day she did. I promised myself to never forget her. I will never be ashamed of the way she died as if it is a dark family secret. Own up to your mistakes! I did! She will live in me, and she will get her way as usual. She will always be young and sexy.
By: Drea Rives
© March 18, 2010
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