Fear is a Prison

I’m afraid of everything. I’m afraid of fear itself. I have been through so many emotions in the last two weeks… but, of all of them, fear has twisted me up and raped me of nearly all abilty to function. 

I have lived my entire life in fear. At a very young age I learned that it was necessary to find distractions to shove in my brain to keep it busy… that way the devil wouldn’t get me.  They weren’t always bad distractions.  When you are young you can stay pretty active during the day. Night time was hell though. Complete hell in full-out glory. 

I just let go of my latest distraction. The battle I fought… the disgusting shit I allowed myself to stoop to before finally giving up… the monster I became… are all evidence of the fact, I think, that I was scared – almost literally to death – of what life would be like without that distraction.  

And now here I am on the other side of the fight – breathing heavily…

I don’t know where it came from. Or, what I’m afraid of. But, it’s deadly. I may never know. Could I have just been born with it? Does it even matter where it came from? Does it need a home?

I know it’s open season on my brain right now though. I’m doing my best to handle it with care. But fear is fear and the memories are starting to resurface as the fog settles from the disaster of the last few weeks. No one wants to live in the past, but when the past lives in you, what are you suppose to do? Especially when that past doesn’t make any sense?

Then there’s tomorrow? And the day after. .. makes ya wanna start shoving in something to just make it all stop before it even starts.

Just kinda…

Ok, over and out.

Here’s George Jetson!!!


I pulled into Nazareth, was feelin’ about half past dead
I just need some place where I can lay my head
“Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?”
He just grinned and shook my hand, “no” was all he said.

— “The Weight” The Band

Decided to get out of town for a few days. Paisley, the Basset hound is staying with the hot vet. Boyfriend is fishing… I’m just driving. No spaceships. Although looky what I passed as I was driving.


Freaked me out at first! Thought maybe I was having a moment. “Here’s George Jetson!” Then I noticed the twin motors. Hey, it was a touch and go few days last week… What can I say.

So I’m taking it easy. Day is not so great, but it’s quiet – outside my head and in. I’m not going to complain.

“What if this is as good as it gets?”

So I’m trying to reach up, and climb out, dig through all of this garbage that I have collected and most importantly created. It’s smelly and scary and revolting.  Childish – yes, very childish. But mostly it’s deep and tangled in this… l don’t know… just mess. It has roots, oh yes, very deep roots. And branches that have grown miles just in the last few weeks.

The problem is that it’s so fucking intriguing. Almost as if the more I create the more I want it to continue.  But, the anger that came out of it. And, the reactions? Damn it if it wasn’t at all what I wanted.  They weren’t playing right!

I mean really… if you are going to play.  Play right. I realize it’s hard to keep up at times, but come on.

I was so far in my head at times that I was psychotic –  seeing things and feeling things that I was still very sane enough to know weren’t happening to me. And one would think that you could realize if you were still that together at that point that it’s “game over”, Jami. Pack it in for your sanity, babe. But, it would seem that when I am hell bent on destruction – zooming around in a spaceship with other spaceships on the highway isn’t a enough to snap my crazy-ass back into reality. It was enough to get me to pullover and “phone a friend”, but look out world, after this break, round 15 is back in play.

Sadly tho, for Crazy Jami, I was able to put it to rest. No, you can applaude that.  Or, call 911 and still have me committed  or stop reading.  All of the above. I understand. Please know I AM NOT trying to make light of the seriousness of that mess.  If I went into the actual behavior you probably would stop reading anyway. Or wonder what the fuck? Why isn’t she committing herself?  That is the scariest I have been non-anxiety wise… non-screwed up med wise… since the 80’s. It was straight up bipolar, borderline behavior like I have never seen… from a 48 year old woman on top of it…

I am seriously surprised I am not locked up somewhere – hospital or jail. Or dead. I am SO grateful that I’m not.

Now I have to deal with the fall out.  Not so much that of who I lost.  I didn’t lose anyone I didnt need to lose. I have to deal with behavior that I thought was gone.  That I thought as a 48 year old woman I could honestly live my life knowing I was free from. 

This is where shit gets real.
This is the frustration. ..
This is the exhaustion.
This is the anxiety… the “oh shit, the other shoe just fell” reality.

Yeah, I threw a toddler fit.  But I came apart on every level possible.  I kept telling myself that everyone gets angry. Everyone goes through stuff like this. I worked hard all summer to be able to stand up to somethimg like this.  I can do this….

That’s what I told myself…

And I lost it… straight to hell in a handbasket. 

I don’t know what’s next.  I’m safe and that is huge.  I hate the saying, but every day is a new day.  So that is something in my favor.  Good news is that I only had one more shoe to fall.  Out of shoes… so… back to the books I guess.  I don’t know. 

That’s all I got.  I do write alot during times like this.  Most of it will seem like nonsense because its just me talking to myself.   Which is what I do anyway.  Understand that I am really in my head still…

Just a warning. ..

Over and out.

Motivational Speech #1


Sometimes ya gotta just fake it ’til ya make it and I figure a little humor in the process can’t hurt… this morning is rough. I’ve got a long weekend ahead of me with zero structure planned and that is a map for destruction.

But, I refuse to give in. I have Big Girl responsibilities today. I will have to at least get through them.

Over and out.

Moving on?


Ok…. maybe it’s personal.  Yeaah… it’s prolly personal.

I am really out there right now.  If I wrote for real I think you’d all need a translator.  Good news is that the therpaist, Adonis, is back from vacation.  I have locked him in his office and he will not be taking vacations ever again.  Nor will he see his family… tough break, therapy man.  Price ya have to pay when you are both amazingly good at your job and have a fruit loop for a patient like me.

Ok, no I did not lock him in his office. Gees… his kids start school this week.  I wanted him to have that moment.  And, no I didn’t threaten him.  He’d already tossed around the idea of a safety contract and so I decided not to push it.  BUT! I did let him know that it was extremely inconvenient of him to go be on vacation when I was having a slight breakdown. He didn’t seem phased at all.  Creep.

However, to keep things on the up and up… the lego is for the asshole who broke my heart… not the therapist.

Are we good? Still with me? I should stop here.  Have a blessed day everyone… haha… ahhhhh.  I’m going to grab my regularly prescribed xanax and try for another successful day of geometry education in the Indiana Public School System.  No worries.  Ill be fine. So will the kiddies.

Over and out.

Seconds in Forever


For just one second I wanted to drive my 1999 white toyota solara into the big oak tree on the corner… that second lasted forever as I realized a thousand things … most of which ….

Man, that would hurt! And, I would screw up and kill myself… I don’t want to die. Just hurt….

I realized that if for some reason I did die – which, again, was never the intention – my 80 year old parents would be heartbroken. They have been to hell and back with me.

I also realized that I was actually, quite insanely,  attempting to self-injure with a multi-ton vehicle… the insanity of that!

I realized that while, yes, I was trying to release the fucking build up of pain and sickness and vomit and blood and tears and everything screaming to get out, this time was different. I was doing it out “there” because he’s a cop and on duty and he’d get the call and he’d hear it.  Woohoo… can you say “fruit loop?”

That’s when it hit me… as the tears were falling faster than the rain itself…. he as been my self injury.  He’s why I haven’t picked up those razors in over 2 years. He is the razor. Don’t ask me how this all came together in this grand aha moment.  It just did. One of those things that you just know…

………. and so I drove the rest of the way home in my 1999 white toyota solara. All in one piece.

Now I have to deal with this…

Over and out.