I want fun!

I’m always tired on Sundays. I’m tired from the anxiety of having to “get it together” one more week at school – I’m a teacher. Sometimes I notice the anxiety. Most days I just notice the exhaustion.

I like my job. To say I love it wouldn’t be fair. I don’t understand “love” in any form. But that’s a different entry. Once I actually get myself to 1st period I can do it – at least I can make it until lunch. Then I have an hour and a half before I finish up my last two classes. I’ve bailed on those a couple of times.

I just want to be normal. I want to do what I have to do. I use to want to teach to make a difference. And, the bottom line is that I still do it for that reason. But if I have to be completely honest, I’m simply existing.

I’m simply existing from moment to moment everyday and I HATE it. I want fun! I want enjoyment! I want to just be so lost in bliss that I don’t even recognize who I am…… The sick “who” I am. I use to say I wanted to be normal but screw normal. I want fun!

It is absolutely beautiful outside right now. At the moment I’m finishing up laundry that must be done for the week. I get that. I get the “musts” in life. I just want the “funs”.

I don’t want to be tired – exhausted from the worry of whether I can stand up out of bed tomorrow morning… Get in the shower… Get my hair done… Get in my car… Walk thru the door of the school and actually start 1st period. OMG it seems sooooo scary.

I just want fun!

… just bits of rehab

“And I’ll never give myself to another
The way I gave it to you
Don’t even recognize
The ways you hurt me
Do you?
It’s gonna take a miracle to bring me back
And you’re the one to blame”

— rehab, rihanna

I’m a lyric lover – not a genre lover. A song can get me a couple of ways – either the music does it or the lyrics do. I have my limits. I’m sorry. I don’t do opera. I like classical piano because I played classical piano – you can throw in some classical guitar.

Anyway, I digress.

Is there a rehab for stupid girls – no women – who never grow up and over boys (ok, men) who come into their life and mess ’em all up. Or, is it just considered “growing up”? I’m leaning towards that one. I have been through every possible reason for holding onto this guy.

I’m trying to fix him – because that’s what I do. I have 3 ex-husbands to prove it.

Ok… so maybe there is just one reason.

I hate to stoop to the level of saying that I’m bipolar and very BP (borderline) and I have issues.. but I do. *shaking my head* I do.

Truth is, I’m a 47 year old teenager who refuses to give up on an idiot, hot, jackass, who isn’t very hot and IS more than just a jackass.

Seriously, he’s really mean. And, it’s really very stupid that I even consider having him near me… but it’s what I do.

Everyday I wake up and take the risk of getting my heart broken by him…. and I know this and yet I do it …. every day… I do it. And he will do it… and he does it it… over and over…

*shaking my head*

almost 5 am

almost 5:00am

writing what’s on my mind
what’s in my head
a thought, simple –
moving like crazy
round and round
should I do this
I don’t know.
seriously, I don’t know.
Where did you go?
What just happened?
weird thoughts
just thoughts
no one can make the
right choices for me
not then – not now
can’t follow through on
thoughts so simple
round and round
i just reach up to stop them
wouldn’t it be so easy here
you, me
thoughts here
thoughts there
ever moving
Oh MY God – ever moving
never done
it’s done!
why am I afraid to feel…

broken wing (throwback)

drowning in a circle of tears
she sees the bird with the broken wing
it’s out of her control
she still feels the fear

the crying out for attention
she moves closer only to find it’s disappeared
where has it gone?
where does she go now?

slowly life moves closer to her
she wonders when she can feel
when will it be safe again?
pushing away the obvious hunger

none of this makes sense
not the tears, the blood or the pain
it’s all she knows though
no one for her to fight against

don’t run to the medicine closet
the enemy is not hiding there
the broken wing will mend
she will fly away and she will forget…

… the secret (throwback)

the secret

hollering, “let me go!”
what happens now?

you don’t know?
where the hell are you
hiding the answers?
who the hell asked you 
to begin with? 
you should know, i’ll
fight you even though you
see me as a coward!
i have no other choice…

screaming as loud as i can,
“look at me!”

…only to melt into puddles of
exhaustion at your feet!
i would be done with you
if only i didn’t feel the need
to fight for my rights!
why do you think life 
is made this way? 
… i have no idea.

Untitled (throwback 4)

— this was written 14 years ago when I was really, really sick. I have posted several of these lately. I have recently started therapy – after 14 years with the therapist I saw back when I was going through all of this…. I think I may continue to post these in between the clarity of my life now. Healthy? Unhealthy? I’m not sure.. So far… as shocking as some of the entries might seem (at least to me) it feels good to post them…. so I’m going to continue. I am going to title them “Throwback #” so that I can keep track of which ones are old and which ones are fresh…. jl


I want to write. I want to tell you all how difficult it is to feel
this way. But, words can’t describe the things that stand
between freedom and me. Freedom from the feeling of my
stomach being pulled and torn and tied in knots over whether
I should get out of bed in the morning or not. Freedom from
the thoughts in my head that move like bumper cars through
the tunnels in my brain. Freedom from the bugs that run wild
in my veins. I wish that I could draw you a picture that
illustrates what I see when I close my eyes and think about
that closet. They ask me to concentrate but they don’t feel the
hands reaching in poking me, grabbing me, cutting me open.
I’d like to perform a one man show for you so that I could
wear costumes depicting the frightening beasts that stalk my
every move. I’d like to just sit with you and talk. The
words wouldn’t come though… I’d sit and stare, blankly, into
your eyes hoping to get a glimpse at your soul. A glimpse of
a soul that maybe hasn’t been battered and bruised the way mine has.

… the way mine has…

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

“oh yeah, you’re friends.
that’s right….


you’re not friends.


you’ll never be friends
you’ll be in love ’til it kills ya both.


you’ll fight…
and you’ll shag…
and you’ll hate each other until it makes you quiver…
but you will never be friends.


love isn’t brains, children
it’s blood
blood screaming inside you to work its will.


i may be love’s bitch
but, at least i’m man enough to admit it”.
-spike, talking to buffy and angel in Buffy the Vampire Slayer

YEP… I watched that crap… and even more…. I wrote about it in my blog 14 years ago… 

My father writes articles for several Jazz magazines (I capitalize Jazz because it’s been such a huge part of my life). When I was younger he wrote for local newspapers. He once wrote about a local movie theater and the movies he would see when he was little… how watching them – if just for a moment – transformed his friends and him into those characters. They didn’t care about what John Wayne was like in person. They cared about what his character did – day after day – picture show after picture show. The movies were their hope… their chance to get a glimpse at the “real world”…..

This particular article started with a bit about how he remembers telling my sister that “life ain’t no rock n roll song” then it was as if remembering having told her that he suddenly was reminded about how that little-bitty segregated movie theater in Buchanon, Michigan was his “rock n roll” song and maybe he was wrong……

Maybe life isn’t a rock n roll song… or a movie… or a good book. Maybe it is just a damn stupid song… but what does it matter if, just for a moment, it changes you or reminds you that maybe I’m not so off balance after all… maybe love really is as thick as blood… who knows… 

My friends made serious fun of me for watching shows like Buffy and Dawson’s Creek.. I was like 30 or something. But I watched anyway… It was the fantasy… it took me away from my daily grind… and sometimes, if I was lucky… it built some confidence maybe??? it reaffirmed that maybe what I dreamed about love might just be true. How could that be such a bad thing. Gotta believe in somethin 🙂 

She chooses joy (throwback #3)

she lays curled in a ball in the corner of her bed
heart aching and trying to catch her breath
happiness surrounds her
she reaches for it – stops mid way
needing to establish which is better – happiness or pain?
most people never question which they prefer
it seems, they’ve been immersed in joy – they live joy – they choose it
she has lived in fear – she chooses against her will
she chooses against the demons in her head
she chooses joy

carefully she reaches out the rest of the way
slowly she pulls the happiness into her corner
feeling it in her hands she pauses once again
it’s familiar – where has she felt this before?
where did it go then? why did it leave?
is it worth the pain of losing it again?
pain is more familiar – more acceptable
she takes the risk – pulling it back into her body
she chooses against the demons in her head
she chooses joy