Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Meet in the Middle

I've been frustrated of late. Have you ever noticed that if you try to get someone to quick thinking blindly and look at something from all angles, that you are attacked? Being in the middle is a lonely place so much of the time. You're accused of all sorts of things from being a liberal snowflake to a Nazi sympathizer to what was today's? Oh yes, a sentient fedora. I did applaud this last person. Most creative name I'd been called in a long time.

I do not follow blindly. I do not believe something simply because someone said it or it was on the news. I refuse to let the bad things that happened to me make me a hateful, angry person. However, I also refuse to let those people attack me because they cannot have an adult discussion with someone who doesn't agree with them. Sometimes, I do agree with them, but not with their methods of attack or their reasoning.

What is it about us humans that makes it hard as hell to see the other person's side? That makes us so hateful? I've been fighting with depression for months. Severe depression. Most people only know when I tell them because I've been FIGHTING IT. I refuse to allow it to make me not talk to my kids, to not be there for my friends. But apparently, because it's not a certain kind of depression (like bipolar), it's not real enough, or if I fight the lies my body is telling me, I'm just strong and shouldn't expect other people too. Um, no. We all should fight the lies. Whether it's our bodies or an outside force, the lies hold us back, keep us from our potential. It's not easy, and depression hurts like hell and tricks the mind. But science has now backed up what I've been saying for years--looking for the positive trains your brain to see the positive AND HAS AN ACTUAL CHEMICAL REACTION IN YOUR BRAIN that fights depression. Now, this doesn't mean you don't think the sad thoughts, the ambivalent thoughts. It doesn't mean you don't feel the pain, the shame. What it means is you focus on something positive so your brain has more to fight off the damn lies with. If you need meds, by all means, use that too! Whatever works for you to fight the lies your mind and body tells you.

With the lies fed to you by people and the media, it's not as clear cut. You need to look for the positive, try to understand the other side. However, it's a lot easier to find a positive in my life, even when I'm homeless, than to find someone who is willing to try to see stuff from both sides.

We are led by our emotions. Here is something I wrote today after being attacked and bullied because I refused to get out the pitchforks and torches based on the word of one person who went to the media. The subject was a touchy one, but mostly, this was the last straw for me. So here it is.

The voice of reason is almost always maligned.

Fall in line, soldier. Believe what I say regardless of the facts. Be lead by your emotions. Allow your emotions to override your common sense, your decency. Allow your past to vilify all who remind you of someone who wronged you. Hold on to those hurts and treat others badly because your emotions say that everyone should hurt because you do. Don't listen to reason, duty, honor, and loyalty because they will cause you to do things that aren't where big brother, who is manipulating your emotions, wants you to go. Don't think for yourself. Only feel what I deem acceptable. Don't look at both sides of the equation because you might start understanding and having compassion for the other side, then how will we control you? Don't be responsible for your screw ups. Blame someone else. Don't try to better your life. Blame the rich. Blame the poor. Blame the stars. Blame someone so we can keep manipulating you by what you feel. Feeding you the emotions we want you to feel. Reason? Common sense? Overrated. Agree with our opinion or we're allowed to call you names and bully you until you fall back in line, soldier. As you were.

Monday, May 22, 2017

Hello! I have a guest author today! She's here promoting her latest work. It is hot hot hot. Everything here is PG 13 or less, but I think you get the idea!
I sank into the bath and sighed at the soothing heat. The bubbles were a nice touch too. The water made my wounds sting, but I welcomed the pain. For some reason, my mind equated that the pain meant all the cuts and abrasions were being cleaned. The large one on my knee ached particularly bad, but I’d survived far worse. That acknowledgement drew my gaze to my thigh and the sloppy crisscrossing of scars there.

My property. Just like the animal you are, Master Bryce growled in my ear.

I jumped, throwing my arms around myself and hugging my body tight. My eyes searched the room as I waited for him to walk into view, knife glinting in his hand. The room remained silent except for the racing thud of my heartbeat.

“He’s not here,” I whispered. “You aren’t with him anymore. He can’t hurt you.”

How dare you be so ungrateful. Master fed you!

“He starved me,” I protested. “Sometimes he wouldn’t let me eat for days.”

Master clothed you!

“I was only allowed to wear lingerie. He didn’t even allow me to wear shoes. That’s not clothing.”

Master sheltered you!

“Caged me,” I snarled at the voice.

You are nothing without Master!

Those words hit where it counted. I recoiled both mentally and physically, though I knew I’d never be able to outrun that voice. It sounded like my own, but different. Same voice, but robotic. Lifeless. A recording to remind me of all my failings and everything I would never be. Maybe it was my broken soul, shattered and stuck on repeat like a skipping CD.

“Yes, I am nothing,” I admitted, staring at the bubbles that floated on the surface of the water. “But if I try really hard, maybe I can fix myself and be something. Someone worthwhile. Maybe…”

The protests in my head died, as if the nefarious voice contemplated what I said. Or maybe it planned its next attack. Either way, it hushed without anyone else having to interfere, and I sent thanks to the Universe for the moment’s peace.

I didn’t want to linger too long in the bath, so I focused on washing up, including my hair. Once upon a time, I’d kept my hair long enough to touch my waist. Now it only brushed the tops of my shoulders. The first time I’d cut it, I’d done it to feel like I held control over at least one aspect of my life. When Master saw it, he told me I looked like an ugly boy. After that, I kept cutting it shorter and shorter. I think, deep down, I hoped if I cut it short enough, he would find me so unattractive he would quit seeking me out for sexual interaction.

Satisfied that I’d washed away the dirt and grime from the past few days, I let the tub drain and stepped out to towel off. Until the bath, I didn’t realize how much my muscles ached. Now that the heat soaked the soreness away, I could move a little more freely. It made drying off much easier, though my palms still smarted and my knees were raw.

I slipped into an oversized shirt that announced Do Not Disturb in metallic silver letters against a pink and black background. The contact of the clean garment against my skin sent a fresh prayer of gratitude from my lips at the luck that landed clothes in my lap. Clothes that covered me. Clothes that didn’t leave me bare to the prying, leering eyes of strangers. I pushed away the thought before it towed me under into my shadows like a riptide and slipped on a pair of clean panties, then opened the door.

Voices met me. One of them male.

A lump formed in my throat as I stood just inside the door of the bathroom, holding my breath as I strained to listen. Was Master out of the hospital already? Had he found out where I was? Did he come for me? The questions and fears raced through my mind a mile a minute.

If he told me to come home with him, I would. But now that I’d been jarred back into seeing the whole picture, could I ever let my world narrow down again?