Greased Shadows

Posted on by meltingneurons
Shadow child on a wire.

It’s like a greased shadow that always flits away at the moment of its realization. From the opposite side of the equation it must be infuriating to exist as a singular potential point of reality. To be there, not there, pulled away at the last second like a word that gets lost on the way out from lips.

I’ve let myself destroy so much of myself with this obsessive tracking and back tracking to find a semblance of reality, to make a change now seems not futile but like capitulating. Facts are facts though, and today I find myself more miserable for the fears and fascination that I ruminate on sober or half cooked hazes.

For all my certainty that I can find a conclusion that somehow rectifies the damage that I must have caused and that I’ve jailed myself inside mentally and emotionally no for more than a year I’m no closer to finding peace than ever in this fucking quest to verify my own sanity or its absence.

It’s not the drugs (though they sure as hell didn’t help), its not the crushed moments of happiness so consistently fucked up by my that wildly erratic streak of madness that would bring about a beast of a person rather than the genuine me. It’s an absence of understanding and a goddamn mental block that seems to sit heavier than lead across the pathways upstairs that say, “do something different and get something sustainably different. Make a fucking choice, you’re miserable, choose joy instead and go back to devil may care appreciation for the individual seconds. Intensity used to be something you looked forward to without fear, stop jumping at phones and the thunderous chance to strangle what could just as easily be a figment of your imagination. Go be wild and spontaneous and crazily thrilled to be alive, goddamn it, just fucking decide that happiness is as infectious as this venom you’ve been spewing to the detriment and disgust of anyone within spitting distance. Go get back in the manner of loving and spread some joy, learn something, make a change, and even if it’s as a fuck you to the unseen initially it’s still a choice you can make.”

I’m so sick of being sick in the head like this man. Fucking hell I’d like to see something amazing mundane and start appreciating the hell out of it….like that damn “American Beauty” scene with the plastic bag.

I’ll get there I suppose…I even start college in January and have a new list of goals for the first time in I don’t know how many years. Momentum, have to get it building up to break this bloody inertia.

Vented.

Popping Vessels and Such

Posted on by meltingneurons

Subconjunctival Hemorrhage Image

Slipshod shoestring rope, tied off way too high. Fuck man, I’d like to hear that story again, but this headache, you know?

Don’t puzzle me with temptations, screws got loose okay and I don’t want that medication. Plugged into a magnet machine which vivisected my skull peace with radio style pulsations. Dude says they’re gonna have a topographical map of that gray matter.

They can change the tones to show puddles of blood, goop, or whatever submerging force sketched them wrinkly hills if they want.

Today it’s about hemorrhaging. Poor baby has that capillary blown man, shit looks rough. Doctor, where are thou doctor?

Show on the road, shit, last time that didn’t go far. Van life it then, lets live like homeless rockstars.

Yeah, let’s do that.

Mindfulness and Complex Trauma: The Rewards and the Risks — Everything Matters: Beyond Meds

Posted on by meltingneurons

Even while relying on mindfulness as the cornerstone of my own healing process, I’ve found that most popular guidance on meditation and mindfulness only offers a superficial treatment of what this is about. It can cure anxiety, depression, help you be more focused, empathic, compassionate — the list goes on. The fact that meditation can actually help support a lot of positive things in people’s life dominates the conversation. And while it can indeed do all of that, in the process of getting there it is also a destructive force, challenging the conditioned self. It can tear us to shreds before it makes us feel better. This isn’t a one-size-fits-all solution and in some instances it can be plain dangerous. …

via Mindfulness and Complex Trauma: The Rewards and the Risks — Everything Matters: Beyond Meds

Seeing with Aspie Eyes

Posted on by meltingneurons
Adult Female Asperger's Syndrome Traits
I have been falling far short of making the appropriate connection with my wife over a life defining realization that she has gone her life as an undiagnosed Aspie (high functioning autistic). There are odd layers of parallels to which there is a natural affinity, but there is something that I have been missing. This is my first attempt to look at the world through her eyes as I am best able to express and am hoping with guidance to be better able to straddle the world as she experiences it in contrast to my mental quirks like schizoaffective.

A screaming madhouse of trumpets blaring,
Drummers on speedballs layering the double bass,
Wavering certainty,
Confidence on the rise, but just barely,
The world is too bright,
The looks of strangers is just strange,
Maniacally plotting,
To a joke that you don’t know,
So tell them these interesting passion facts that they won’t know.
Smile while you cry,
Laugh at the wrong gasping sigh,
These rules and constraints are making breathing unfair.
Choke down and recite,
I’m okay and this is all right,
Till the next bad sound,
Bad brush of a fabric,
Discomfort from all around,
Can’t they see the connections?
Feel the motion of energy,
Don’t they understand this quality?
The world is askew,
Words like love and care,
Confused and tried over long rounds with intensity crackling the air.
There’s a kaleidoscopic cacophony of feels,
An incredible world beyond what we’re so painfully pound,
Just a look,
Just a taste,
“How can I be such a waste?”
So little understood,
All my earnest wishes are to call you now true friend,
This awkwardness leaves me bashful and confused,
They all leave anyways in the end.
How much do I accomplish just by opening a door,
Welcome in the miasma of fear that would leave a neurotypical floored,
Scent the wind,
Gather reserves,
By the time I’ve left my bed I’ve confronted an onslought of nerves,
Nevermind the staccato blasts of sanity on swerve.
If you listen and watch,
Appreciate the stimming and don’t consider this to be “my loss,”
You’ll know I am gloriously fragile,
Toweringly glassine,
A ravenous angel of knowledge and love,
Set to task and to pace,
Hurtled forward by God with a shove,
So be patient,
See that for what you may fear,
I’m sublimely sweet,
Easy to wound deep,
Each day the scars rip,
And for all of my toil and grit,
A reluctant soldier of survival all legit.
Penance is my smile for a crime that set me a glow,
Step into my world,
There is so much that I’ve been dying to show.

 

Whiptail Smile – a Romance

Posted on by meltingneurons

,Burning.Woman

Whiptail fun times,

She laid back and threw that hair

Fire doesn’t have that shade,

Red on shimmer on length,

A fold on the mobius loop,

No drinks for breakfast man, reality is already soup.

She’s got a lily to her eye,

A tone to her smile,

Edge to her skullmeats,

Nothing average, not at all.

Beggars for fun,

And in a whisper,

Airy as a feather,

“Let’s do without the sorrow for awhile.”

Ownership

Posted on by meltingneurons

green wooden chair on white surface
Photo by Paula Schmidt on Pexels.com

Motivations interviewed and irrelevant,

I’ll lay my head guilty pressed on insignficant,

For cowards face never the burning sun,

They’ll hide in shadow and deep shades for far,

Too long to justify,

Too short to miss the feelings of defense,

A good name is relative depending on who plays the better game.

I’d settle for naught but honesty,

Review of self with society as whole the juror,

Makes for fearful selling,

That for each wounding action their is a conflict acting.

Were each moment played off the last,

All credit due for manipulations, scheming, mind games,

But each one remaining new,

Pure of outside intrusion more than human,

That would board for explanation.

To the inn keeper who lent a room,

Truth be told I wanted warmth without the price,

For both myself and my wife,

Without money on hand my labor was an easy price,

We left you a story and a poem,

You gave us peaceful hours till we meet again.

The individuals who have given freely and randomly,

Not all your funds went to the gas tanks,

In fact I know,

Aside from coffee and some flowers,

Much has gone to calm the sway of panic,

I regret to say booze to numb the world,

In this turmoil and limbo I’ve fallen to the ease of calling it a moral disease,

Let myself be sold to the desire,

A bottle sits easier sometime when buried in mental wreckage,

Burning in quagmire.

I’ve had bouts with lifting,

Ignoring and getting loud with my wife,

Falling short at jobs and seemingly checked out on life.

Surely by the standard of the world I’m guilt ridden as sinning,

My core personality is crawling back though,

Believe in its honesty or not,

I will sit down with a young woman and try to share her pain,

With my wife, bath tubs and reruns, church and tradition,

Moving Christmas boxes for a hot meal from a kitchen.

I’m finding a stride,

And yes, I am open to denouncement and decry,

I’m a fool touching down,

Getting his head scanned and on meds again,

Trying my best,

Hell, signed up for college and even showed for the test.

I’m far from perfect,

And I’ll sign to the tune of my own recognition,

Of failings I make,

Mistakes or plain fuckery from more rebellious days,

For the first time in long months though,

With eyes clear to the world,

As much as they can be,

I’m on a road to improvement,

On bettering up my awareness,

So that I can be I,

You can be you,

And together bring each other ourselves,

You and I, us and we.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finding the Gifts Within Madness — Everything Matters: Beyond Meds

Posted on by meltingneurons

 

https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F180805266&visual=true&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false

by Ron Unger When people are seeing the world really different than we do, it’s often reassuring to think that there must be something wrong with them – because if they are completely wrong, or ill, then we don’t have to rethink our own sense of reality, we can instead be confident about that own understandings encompass all that we need to know. … [click on title for the rest of the post]

via Finding the Gifts Within Madness — Everything Matters: Beyond Meds

The Enormity of Kindness

Posted on by meltingneurons

We live in a van and I’m an asshole.

It’s a blessing, in that we can stay out of the cold, that we are mobile, the rent is the price of gas and avoiding the police, but still, it is a van and it is icy outside in Washington State.

So when we had occasion recently to revisit the hometown of my wife post-Thanksgiving and running at exactly $0 entering town with the expectation of  freezing for the opportunity we ran into something truly remarkable.

I’m the kind of guy who will walk into a hotel and ask them if I could do something, anything, trash, bathrooms, you name it, in order for my wife and I to enjoy a night off the four wheels we call lovingly home.

I’ve asked this kind of question at stores for food, at restaurants, gas stations, and now hotels. The response is varied, but I honestly don’t have a problem working in exchange for a bartered commodity.

This time it worked, and for a few hours pulling weeds and emptying trash bins around the site we were graced with a beautifully appointed room, a bloody shower (no blood, but you know how these sayings go), a TV which we typically don’t watch but decided a MASH bonanza was in order, and a BED.

I think the joy of a bed is indescribable under the best of times, but when compared to the wonderful (thank you Arabella) topper that we have in our van, even a full sized BED is orgasmic in it’s perfection.

We slept there for nearly 14 hours straight the first night, waking warm for the first time in months, and then maybe 12 hours the next to the same enjoyable results.

This is kind of an obscure way to go about saying it, but to each and every wonderful oddball out there that actually considers some request from a weirdo like me/us out there….thank you. It was a much needed comfort, respite, and opportunity to try and regain some of the closeness that stressful situations put on hold indefinitely when your chamber pot is in the middle of the transmission column separated by only a few inches of steel.

The warmest of wishes to those of you who have gone without and understand the enormity of life affirming belief that can be realized by simply helping some random stranger with something simple – think gloves, socks, a place to stay for one night, a few dollars in gas, something to eat, hell, a beer under the right circumstances.

You’re the kind of people the make the underworld spin, in all the right and appreciative ways. Thank you.

 

TTI – Troubled Teen Industry #2

Posted on by meltingneurons

Been going back through and working on a lot of different memories and listening to my wife who is also a survivor of the troubled teen industry though we went to different programs. When she is finally able to compile all of her research on the shocking disposition CURRENTLY of the political figures in office, misappropriated funds, connections back to mind-control programs from the German’s and the USA, Pavlovian work and scientifically backed manipulation and breaking sessions with CHILDREN that is allowed to go on today despite more than 50 documented deaths and thousands of lawsuits….it is my most fervent hope that it shakes this torture founded industry to its core and helps those other survivors attain a modicum of peace as it is torn money bound limb from limb with it’s supporters brought forward into the light as they so richly deserve.

In regards to the following piece, it reads a little bit askew – the rhythm is off a bit, but I thought this first draft before I expand it and refine to a spoken word piece might be worthwhile to share.

Best wishes and thank you for reading and any comments!

To the parents and the crooks,
The political impersonators who throw out the rules,
Sit back collecting stacks of cash while cooking the books.
Your children were tortured for paychecks and gain,
Sent off to boot camps and gulags,
Battle grounds where they learned nothing but shame.
Where brainwashing is a joy and considered a game,
Breaking wills and minds in front of others,

Forget that we were actually someone’s son or a brother.

Just stay out from fronting and flow in the current.
Where connections are made to MKULTRA and more,
Paperclip, Monarch, Bluebird to start,
Did you know that the APA head once had no heart?
Read into the research and what you will find,
Is that you sold off your children to perpetrators of a vicious crime.
Families in need of console,
Desperate to regain control,
Looking for someone to fill the hole,
Left by the departing absence of their lost child’s soul.
Here come the consultants,
Professionals for hire,
Arrange for kindnappings that draw no legal ire,
And off in a flash your confused child went,
To a community of sorts with promises to fill,
Make them better, fitter, compatible, or better still,
More compliant and loyal,
Fit to be royal,
Have ’em back in a jiff – 12-24 months isn’t too stiff.
And when the communication blackouts went on,
Fuckers stuck us back into rooms and handled us too strong.
Workshops in blacked out rooms,
Dog kennels and beatings,
Touched by staff and indoctrination meetings.
Hazing and rough play,
Rape and endless marches day to day,
Screams to a counselor,
Get put in a box,
You paid these fuckers to place us in places with locks.
All for our own good,
And what have you found?
Are most of us sound?
Hell no, just look down, down, fucking down.
You’ll find many of us cracked out in back alleys,
Drunk in ditches or trying to get our jolleys,
Hooked on fixes with drugs,
Banging strangers for our newest buzz,
Complex PTSD is the tip of the berg,
You ripped a generation of youth out of life,
Detached us from a world.
Is it any surprise?
We were shattered to pieces,
Taped back together despite our begging and cries.
No one could hear us, and no one cared if they did,
We were teenagers then,
Just fucking misunderstood.

Dis-illusionment

Posted on by meltingneurons

Come thundering into me,

Please,

I’m entranced by you.

The violence of the illusions,

The mystery of what lies beyond,

Not just for the betterment,

How long?

How long can it go before the cracks seek rift beneath?

Scramble neurons,

Wobbly organs,

Gray matter,

Gone where only MRIs can see.

I’m curious if they will even be able to find me

Or was this all well intentioned,

And just went so very, very wrong.