Yesterday, I went to pick up my ballot to vote early in the 2024 election. Waiting in lines is difficult, so it’s been beneficial that I can pick up my ballot and take it home, where I can calmly spend time choosing a candidate or picking a for/against and retain/repeal issue.
The pope says that if you are pro-choice you are a person who kills children. The pope forgets that his church is responsible for the murder of babies and molestation of children. The pope seems to forget about the Magdalene Laundries and should mind his thoughts before he opens his mouth to accuse others of what his church is guilty of. The nuns allowed babies to be neglected and they subsequently died of abuse, disease, and/or starvation. Their tiny bodies were tossed into a septic tank where nuns shit on the remnants of 800 souls who were never given a chance at life.
My cousin, Kaylie, never calls me on the phone. When my phone rang on Monday, July 15, I didn’t want to pick up the phone. I did because I knew I had to.
“Hi, Kaylie.”
“Did anyone call you yet?”
“No. What about?”
“Garget has been in a car accident.”
I looked at the clock – 5:27 a.m. I’ve lost nearly 90 minutes in this flashback. The screaming woke me up again. My nausea alternated between a 7 and a 9. When it finally settled down to a 3, I started crying. I thought to myself, “I don’t feel well.” Then, a memory unlocked of a conversation I had many times with my mother when she came to wake me up for school.
Sometimes it’s hard to sit down to write and explain what is going on with me. There are always several different stories bouncing around in my head, so I’m never short of ideas. What I lack is providing a good description of things to people who have no experience in the realms I have been in.
My clock at an angle, which makes the moon phase look wrong.
I woke up at 11:30 p.m., panicked and sweating. It’s common occurrence. My right eye hurt – another frequent notation in my sleep log, which is usually connected to the entire right side of my face hurting.
Working with my therapist, I have an inkling of what some of these things are, but it’s going to take time to figure them out. I have to piece together what’s happening and why, while listening to what my body is telling me. Unlike my brain, my body can’t paint pictures or speak.
I don’t sleep well most nights, but I never get any rest on Fridays. It’s been this way most of my life and I never knew why.
A sunflower soaks up the rays of the sun at BE Farm in Bayard, Nebraska on August 3, 2023.
A few days ago, I read a column, which really hit home. The author, Lucia Osborne-Crowley, is a trauma expert. After reporting on the Ghislaine Maxwell trial devastated her own mental health, she checked herself in to one of the world’s leading residential trauma-treatment centers.
I would encourage everyone to go read the article, but I wanted to share some parts of the article that resonated with me.
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