Aloneness

I have been in this great transition for some time now, where all I ever believed about any and everything has came into question. 

It hasn't been easy or fun. 

At this point in my journey, I'm very sure if who I am, and who I am not. I don't know who I want to be. 

I really just want to be me. 

But literally very few understand me and can relate to me. While I can relate to everyone, hardly no one can relate to me. While I know this world is huge. And I know that I am most likely duplicated somewhere, I'm sure of it. 

I haven't found them. 

But I am looking. For that one person that gets me. One single soul that sees me. Not just what I am protraying in the moment. But me. 

If that does exist. I seem to make it exist for so many but not a one, can do that for me. 

Mostly they are just confused to what I maybe saying. 

Maybe I lost my chance on the ones I gave up. 

Maybe I'm a total idiot and I'm insane and I don't understand the point of living. All I know is the monotony of work, do this, do that, all to keep up with everyone else and do what ever one else does, feels like a slow death to me.

I'm glad that I am not like the other humans. I'm glad I'm uniquely me. I'm glad I don't feel the need to be just like the others. I'm glad I am who I am. 

I'm just sad that there isn't anyone who is also like me, it makes for a lonely alone journey. 

Too bad. 

Social experiments

I tend to look at life in a scientific way sometimes. 

I like to know what makes us tick.

I like to know why I do certain things. 

I like to understand people's traits, including my own. 

I have noticed that when you bring up death to people that have not lost someone significant, they will run from you. I tend to believe that we all should understand death a lil more. I feel like if you understand death, your going to understand life, in turn, understand uour mission in this life. 

There is a rhyme and reason to ever thing, in my opinion, others do not believe the same, or they just don't think about it. 

So here I am, talking to someone "do you think that after you die, if I'm alive, could you try to communicate with me?"

And do you know what happened, he quit talking to me altogether. 

So I wonder what is so weird about someone curious about death. I have been free of fear my entire life. I almost think I was just naturally born fearless but the fact I was raised in a great family home, that taught me to be genuine, that's part of it. 

So I do not fear death. I'm prepared to go there. As every one does. It is apart of living. I think it's cold and hard here on this planet, I think that being here has a purpose, weather to bring the planet out of that cold harshness of blackness, and bring happiness here, or to ride out a journey on earth to say you did it. Or who knows. Only you can figure out why you came here. 

So you live and you die. And death is just a rebirth of sorts and everyone fears it. 

What is the point

As far as I can see there is no point. No point in caring, no one is going to care about you. No point in dreaming. Cause those dreams never come true. No reason to love anyone, no one is going to love you. You can pour your heart and soul into something and it's just going to get taken. There is no point. People are only here to take what they want. The lucky ones get to take and take and have a happy life and the unlucky ones just get nothing. I've been patiently waiting for gods grace and I have not gotten it. God doesn't care about people like me. God only cares about fake dick heads that shit on all things to get ahead. Users and abusers get ahead. I can't figure it out. I've tried for months. And I have a lot  of good things in my life. But that doesn't take away this pain or heart ache that continues to grow. God has removed every single thing I love. Because God doesn't care about people like me. 

Human

Every human is different. 

Every human believes different.

Every human sees different. 

Every human is normal. 

Every human is abnormal. 

The only thing that actually separates us is the threat that someone else's beliefs, ideas, values, may be different than yours and may affect you. But it literally only affects you if you let it. But if you are so devout in your own beliefs, ideas and agendas, why do the same things of another human even affect you? 

  

Is it the idea that if you can sway them to your way, make you more secure in your own beliefs?  If so, then your being sketchy. 

Or is it that you want to save them? Save them from what? 

Being happy in their ideas, beliefs and life? That's actual crazy. 

Is it that if you can prove yours right then you are the superior human?? 

Being secure with in your own ideas, beliefs and theory's and way of living, then there should really be no problem. 

SO why does it even matter, why do you even have the need to care what they think, believe and do, if it doesn't negatively affect you  and or anyone at all. 

Let people do their thing. And you do yours. 

If you meet someone that's willing to listen to your shit with a open mind, choose to do the same with them. If  you get the chance to stand in someone else's shoes for  two seconds, your learning things. 

A liars prison

Everyone tells a lie on occasion. It's hard to be truthful in moments. Things may happen that you want to keep to yourself. People ask you a question you don't want to answer. You do things that you shouldn't and you lie. Or you are just one of those people that lie. I know a few of those. Lie for no reason. Lie about buying new shoes that you never bought. Little lies that you tell.

I do it. It happens even to me. When someone asks me how I am, I always have a choice, tell them the truth and bring them down, or tell a lil lie, I'm good! I'm not good. I'm in the middle of heartbreak and I'm angry at the forces that be. I mostly say something sarcastic and change the subject to the other party. If I start talking about myself it all bubbles out. I'm not made to be a liar. I've told lies and two days later came clean. I've told big lies and they hurt people and it eats me up inside. I feel pressure in my entire body to say the truth. But there are other humans that lie lie lie. For no reason. To hide themselves. To hide something. The thing about lies, is they all come out. The truth always comes out. It doesn't matter if it's ten years, a lie will unfold itself and come out. So why lie? Why not say the truth? It's hard for some to tell the truth. And I do not understand them. How do they sleep at night living in a lie. How do they get away with it??? I don't. I crumble.  A lie comes out and it's worse than just telling the truth. Why not just say complete truth, it can not hurt you. Oh for sure, it will hurt a few, but long run, as soon as it's over, it's out and gone, a lie is a splinter and it gets under your skin. It will fester and at some point explode all over you. 

I have no room in my life for liars. I just don't. You can do me wrong in many ways and I'll forgive, but when you lie more than once and over and over, I will let you take yourself out like the trash. There is nothing wrong with the truth. If it's the truth, even if it hurts me, it's just the truth and I can deal with it. 

If you have to lie to your partner, then something isn't right. If you have to lie to a friend, something isn't right. Don't hold your own self a prisoner of your own lies. 

Death

I've been dealing with death. Actual death and dead ideas, dead relationships, dead friendships. 

I moved into my grannies house in January. Gary, my uncle lived behind me. He was in bad shape when I came. I watched him out my back window slowly die. I watched him grow more weary and tired by day. I watched him stumble to the chicken coop, make his rounds around the yard at dark and check the mail. When he was outside, I came in. He didn't like company. I could feel his sorrow and lonely. I could feel his static at trying to avoid a convo with me. He came in the house once, to bring me mail and I screamed cause he startled me. I was in a dark place when I got here and he seen it. He let me be, And I returned the favor. Every day I tried to come up with some sort of plan to help him with out thinking I was helping him. Mom and I started taking him lunch every day. That went on for a few weeks until he told Jax "I don't want this food!" 

So I would only take food when it was something granny had made in the past. I watched him watch my babies playing outside. I watched him. I felt my heart open up and tried to make him feel my love from my bedroom to his lil house. It grieved me before his actual death. Because I could feel death hovering. It was not scary or sad. But it was thick and heavy. My body is one giant sponge of feels. I worried. I worried about what I would do. When the time came. Not of the actual passing over. Death does not scare me. Death I believe is a rebirth. I've not always held that thought in its entirety but about 2 years ago when a friends husband passed away, I found I had a natural talent of speaking to the dead. And actually hearing some sort of response. I'd not believe this had I not been there. I'd not believe any of that had I not had several witnesses to it. But I did. And every message was validated by someone and so I guess I was doing it. 

So I did not fear a death near to me. I feared what it would do to my family and what my options were as far as carrying out Gary's wishes. Gary wanted to die alone in his home. He didn't want to be in a hospital bed. About a month before he died I started feeling chest pains. I had already discovered that I actually feel others physical pain. That's a total other blog but that too had been validated time and time again by every human I hang around. I asked all of them if they were having chest pains. And none of them were. I asked my dad. I asked Mike. I asked Julie. I asked Jenn. I asked everyone. And for some reason I didn't pinpoint the owner of that excruciating chest pain. 

The week he died, it was bad. I was scared cause I knew whom ever was feeling that was not ok. Idk why it didn't dawn on me. Gary and I slept less than 50 feet apart thru two walls. Energy is not bounded by walls and that pain was large. 

So that week, Mike and I had found a middle ground of being around one another. And I was back and forth to Bryson. So I wasn't home a lot. I truly believe that the reason this happened this week was to keep me away from his actual death. I feel I was being protected by feeling someone having a massive heart attack. 

That Monday mom tried to get Gary to go to the doctor, but he was up and moving around and screamed at her no! And told her not to come back till Friday. So she waited until Friday. Mike had scout and Eddie had already picked up the big kids so I got off work and ran home to grab clothing and head to Bryson. I left my car running. I ran in and peed. But as I stood up I automatically got in the shower. And I don't know why. My car was running but I just jumped in the shower and thought I'll hurry. As I'm getting out of the shower, I hear my mom scream "Jenny! I can't get Gary to answer the door." 

I could tell by my moms voice that she already knew. I said "ok don't go in let me throw on clothing!!"

I went over and she sat on the steps. Crying. I told her that I'd go on in, stay there. So I walked in and I could smell it. Death. I've smelled death before. Mike is a animal hunter. And I have seen death and smelled it. But this was different. I opened his bedroom door, and there he was. But this was different than anything I expected. I felt like I had done this moment before. I felt like I was in a time parallel and this has been seen and I had done this moment before. Gary had died a few days before and his house was hot. So the hot box of his death made him decompose so bad that it was like a movie. The state of his human vessel was not what I had expected. I'll spare you the details. But it was bad. This all happened in a matter of seconds but me telling it takes me back to that moment and time seemed to stop. I turned around and said "no! Call 911. It's done" my mom started to come in and I pulled the door shut and screamed "no! Do not come in. It's bad"

Mom called 911, and could not talk so I took the phone. I don't remember the call much but I'm crass and I know I said we need a body bag. I just don't ever have time for chit chat. The cops came, the abulance came. They ran up and I said, y'all need to be prepared, it's bad and we are missing a dog. They go in and come out and start investigating a crime scene. Wildest thing I ever been thru. Because of the state of decomposition, they had to investigate. They questioned me and mom. They kept asking me if I was ok. And honestly in moments of crisis I'm always ok. I do not understand why. But in crisis I am calm. I kept thinking, hell how am I supposed to be acting. 

As the days went on I worried, I thought, why did I not do more, why did I run from forcing him to let us help him more. And I grieved. I grieved his life. I grieved his aloneness. And I grieve still. I felt like a failure cause here is me, this woman girl who can feel pain of others and I did nothing to help him. Not that he would have recieved my help. 

But I do know this. He's free now. The entrapment of his mind is no longer. I feel him free flowing all around here. I feel his love and I know he's here guarding my kids. 

I'm glad it was me who seen him. I'm glad his brothers and sisters did not see what I seen. My mother couldn't have dealt with that. 

I learned I was stronger and tougher and I learned that death does not phase me as much as the normal human. I learned that I can do anything I want. I learned I'm protected and guided and I learned how to allow events to unfold even when I already know what's going to happen. I'm the end, I knew. I could feel death all around here. I was already depressed, so it was easy to tap into that feeling. It was a blessing to be here when he went home. But it still sucked...

No one is going to say it for you

I've always been a talker.  When I have something big to say, heck even little, I feel it well up in my chest, and it explodes there if I leave it unsaid and I either, self implode on myself or whomever it is the words are for.  Some days I'll have a lil more control than others and I'll get the chance to form the thoughts before I go off half cocked with some crazy shit coming out of my mouth. And sometimes not. Sometimes when I'm making a Facebook post about some crap, and i don't even know where the message came from, it comes out so fast that I can't even edit. It just like word vomits out of my body. I am made this way. If there is truth to speak, I have to speak it. This does cause me total problems. My friends really have to understand me to stay. Cause I'm honest. My family already knows. 

I know that when you speak things that are deep and come from the soul leave you very vulnerable and it's scary for some. I have a friend, when they got something to say, I feel their anxiety, rise up their throat like bile and sits in their chest and eats them alive. They are full of anxiety because they can not get their words out. They can not express themselves. And I have been working and trying to figure out why. So I came up with this; 

1. When was the last time you could express yourself? Was is a companion that you expressed yourself to and they made you feel inadequate by dismissing your feelings. 

2. Did you express your love and pour it all out on them and did they leave you.? 

3. Let's go farther back, was it something in your childhood? Did you try to express your needs, and there was no one there to really fufill them? So u just quit expressing. 

I know why this person quit expressing. I seen the vision in my own head. Like a frozen picture in time that downloaded in my mind. 

So I have these questions; 

Do you want to spend the rest of your life stuck, because you can't even stand up and say no. 

Do you want to be alone for the rest of your life because you are to afraid to say what you need, how you feel, and express your feelings, so the other person you are with at the moment, thinks your vacant. When actually you are so full of emotions but you just can't say them. 

Do you have anything to lose by saying how you feel? No. You actually don't.. Because if you express yourself and they can't handle your emotions, they aren't supposed to. 

But what will happen if you don't express yourself, is everyone will just assume you are hollow and empty and they will walk. It is your body, your voice and your life, there will be no one but you to use your voice. You have nothing to lose. Start small. When someone asks you how you feel, tell them the truth, say "well I'm fine, but my head does hurt" or "well I'm ok, but I'm starving" 

You are a human being, you don't have to keep it together all the time. You aren't that same lil human not getting your needs met by busy parents. You are not that adolescent or teen that got your heart broken, and you somehow closed up inside of yourself and built walls so high that your words out. Damn it. Speak up. Say what your needs are. Say what your feelings are. Only you can express how you feel. No one else knows. And no one will help fufill your needs if they have no freaking clue how to. Because you are so solitairy. It's not weak to express yourself. It's beautiful and its freeing. Say what you feel! If you feel like shit, say it. If you are in love, say it!!! Scream it. If your pissed off, scream it!!  Say it already !!!