suitably*woundedTop 10 Lost Things I Miss the Most (Besides My Marbles)
November 3rd 2006 02:31
Over the course of dealing (or not so much) with my mental illness, it seems I've lost a great deal of the things that made up who I was as an entity, a force to be reckoned with, a bad parody of a super hero from a silly comic book. So it feels like time to me, to enumerate on exactly what some of those precious commodities were. And reflect, you always gotta have that in there. Although to be fair to all my neuroses, it's not like I don't do that every second. of. every. damn. day.
Bear (this will forever appear to be the wrong spelling to me -- I know it's not, but it conjures up Smokey and if his visage fills my periphery, he oughta be nude, as in bare), with me and I'll rehash some stuff I really mourn. But it goes without saying, I suppose, that the cliche is true.... I miss my mind the most.
Below, these don't necessarily turn up in order of importance. However, I'll do the best I can to explain why they hold certain places of honor and why they warrant such a lengthy spilling of the guts. Let the games begin!
1.) Out of everything, I think the most difficult to come to terms with was, as so succinctly stated by R.E.M., my newfound lack of religion. I didn't grow up a fundamentalist, but migrated there quickly around the age of 12 when my maternal grandfather died. And me and my mother (more on that at a later date when I have time for the head demon) attached ourselves with sheer abandon, followed easily by my maintaining this well into adulthood. Needless to say, when your stance is a literal interpretation of the bible, something of the caliber of what I face daily, doesn't quite mesh. Hence, since one was a permanent resident (I believe) that held me involuntarily hostage, that only left the other as dispensable. Guess who won? Legion was his name, oh!
2.) The biggest has been my marriage, to the love of my life, best friend and the first to go boldly where no man had gone before. There's too much emotion still to go into detail without coming unhinged, but suffice it to say that I'm sure you, dear reader, can fathom the impetus behind this loss. Even now, some roughly 3 years later (when we decided it was dead in the water -- a decision made sometime later than mine, when I wished to bail to give him at least a modicum of peace), I'm shattered and alone and heartbroken. I'll undoubtedly recur this theme a lot. Sorry.
3.) The thing that infiltrated my life to a ridiculous degree was softball and talking about it today, leaves another lump in my throat and a knot in my stomach. It was more than a hobby; I probably spent (all told together) 300 days a year on it, I met and married Jaceson on a field, in the middle of a tournament, and the bulk of my friendships were with other players. We did everything together, as long as it pertained to our this wonderful, nigh perfect, sport. Hell, when we couldn't drudge up co-ed games, us women ferreted out enough guys to hang with the men. Those were my favorite and this first baseman, misses them terribly.
4.) I have a very addictive personality and early on I realized that was something I could weakly use to my benefit. If there was a diversion, then that focus dulled the pain (akin to alcohol or wanton sex, I suppose, except initially it wasn't nearly as lethal) and I felt capable of facing whatever lie around the corner. One such obsession (and that's exactly what it became) was collecting clowns. Yes, you read that right and yes, I know. When you get done laughing, read on.... It started small, but ultimately almost single-handedly sunk us. When I had to sell them in 2004, I had over 5,000 with mostly cheapies, but some awesome (IE: insane)as well; a 6 ft. animatronic, a pinball machine and kid's bed shaped like a circus wagon. Yeah. Did I say already that I know? That doesn't include some of the pricier ones, which Jaceson indulged me with so I'd have any hope left. I did goofily enough think I'd someday have a museum with the proceeds going to charity. That I could use it somehow to help others and make them feel better. I don't know. But I gave it up because it became broken and we needed the money (I decided this for myself on the sly) and I really couldn't dream for it anymore, you know? So now, when I see a clown (and Og puts the damn things everywhere!) I cry. Not the bawling, gasping breath kind, but the lonely solitary tear type.
5.) An integral element to humanity, it's been the most detrimental to me to lose what small amount of self-esteem I had to start with. I figure there's nothing else to really say about that, as by its very definition it is self-explanatory.
And since this has already turned into the Reader's Digest version of a maudlin, bad B how-life-sucks in triplicate novel, I'll leave off for today and instead, post chapter 2 tomorrow. I'm sure you're all waiting with antici.... pation. Until then, please have a great life. Like I said, you all deserve it.
Peaces,
~Kemi
Bear (this will forever appear to be the wrong spelling to me -- I know it's not, but it conjures up Smokey and if his visage fills my periphery, he oughta be nude, as in bare), with me and I'll rehash some stuff I really mourn. But it goes without saying, I suppose, that the cliche is true.... I miss my mind the most.
Below, these don't necessarily turn up in order of importance. However, I'll do the best I can to explain why they hold certain places of honor and why they warrant such a lengthy spilling of the guts. Let the games begin!
1.) Out of everything, I think the most difficult to come to terms with was, as so succinctly stated by R.E.M., my newfound lack of religion. I didn't grow up a fundamentalist, but migrated there quickly around the age of 12 when my maternal grandfather died. And me and my mother (more on that at a later date when I have time for the head demon) attached ourselves with sheer abandon, followed easily by my maintaining this well into adulthood. Needless to say, when your stance is a literal interpretation of the bible, something of the caliber of what I face daily, doesn't quite mesh. Hence, since one was a permanent resident (I believe) that held me involuntarily hostage, that only left the other as dispensable. Guess who won? Legion was his name, oh!
2.) The biggest has been my marriage, to the love of my life, best friend and the first to go boldly where no man had gone before. There's too much emotion still to go into detail without coming unhinged, but suffice it to say that I'm sure you, dear reader, can fathom the impetus behind this loss. Even now, some roughly 3 years later (when we decided it was dead in the water -- a decision made sometime later than mine, when I wished to bail to give him at least a modicum of peace), I'm shattered and alone and heartbroken. I'll undoubtedly recur this theme a lot. Sorry.
3.) The thing that infiltrated my life to a ridiculous degree was softball and talking about it today, leaves another lump in my throat and a knot in my stomach. It was more than a hobby; I probably spent (all told together) 300 days a year on it, I met and married Jaceson on a field, in the middle of a tournament, and the bulk of my friendships were with other players. We did everything together, as long as it pertained to our this wonderful, nigh perfect, sport. Hell, when we couldn't drudge up co-ed games, us women ferreted out enough guys to hang with the men. Those were my favorite and this first baseman, misses them terribly.
4.) I have a very addictive personality and early on I realized that was something I could weakly use to my benefit. If there was a diversion, then that focus dulled the pain (akin to alcohol or wanton sex, I suppose, except initially it wasn't nearly as lethal) and I felt capable of facing whatever lie around the corner. One such obsession (and that's exactly what it became) was collecting clowns. Yes, you read that right and yes, I know. When you get done laughing, read on.... It started small, but ultimately almost single-handedly sunk us. When I had to sell them in 2004, I had over 5,000 with mostly cheapies, but some awesome (IE: insane)as well; a 6 ft. animatronic, a pinball machine and kid's bed shaped like a circus wagon. Yeah. Did I say already that I know? That doesn't include some of the pricier ones, which Jaceson indulged me with so I'd have any hope left. I did goofily enough think I'd someday have a museum with the proceeds going to charity. That I could use it somehow to help others and make them feel better. I don't know. But I gave it up because it became broken and we needed the money (I decided this for myself on the sly) and I really couldn't dream for it anymore, you know? So now, when I see a clown (and Og puts the damn things everywhere!) I cry. Not the bawling, gasping breath kind, but the lonely solitary tear type.
5.) An integral element to humanity, it's been the most detrimental to me to lose what small amount of self-esteem I had to start with. I figure there's nothing else to really say about that, as by its very definition it is self-explanatory.
And since this has already turned into the Reader's Digest version of a maudlin, bad B how-life-sucks in triplicate novel, I'll leave off for today and instead, post chapter 2 tomorrow. I'm sure you're all waiting with antici.... pation. Until then, please have a great life. Like I said, you all deserve it.
Peaces,
~Kemi
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Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile
Comment by suitably*wounded
Eternal Days; Author: Illness, M.
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile
Comment by Anonymous
Comment by suitably*wounded
Eternal Days; Author: Illness, M.
I'll tell him about your gracious comment. Thank you.
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile
Comment by suitably*wounded
Eternal Days; Author: Illness, M.
( ::: winks at Bryn ::: )
my favorites were always pierrots. And actually, the girlier the better. Like baby pink.
I know, I should be ashamed now. I'll go hide in my bedroom with one of my Care Bears.
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile
where's the blood from?
Comment by suitably*wounded
Eternal Days; Author: Illness, M.
Very fitting for both of us, if you ask me.
Comment by Bryn
Horrorphile