.: Where the Caged Bluebird Sings :.

Despite all my rage, I'm still just a bluebird trapped in a cage


I regret things that are beyond my control. I regret that he wasn’t a better father. I regret that I allowed him to make me ashamed to be a girl. I regret so many things that I shouldn’t be the one regretting.  

I’m tired of carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. 

I’m. Tired.

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What you see

This by a friend, who I hope knows how important she is to me. It made me think and cry and realize no matter where I go or when it is, I am always going to be that broken girl in the big back brace that is too heavy for her small frame to carry. The little girl who doesn’t want to wear the burdens she has to carry daily, while her father asks her if she “want[s] to look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame,” because that is surely what will happen if she doesn’t carry this burden.


You think I am only what you see.
Mother, wife, caretaker, boo-boo kisser,
nurse, maid, sister, friend, daughter.

You don’t see the woman who is really just a girl – hanging over the sink wiping the make-up of the day off.
The girl whose eyes aren’t smeared with mascara from the water,
but from the silent, lonely tears.

You don’t see the woman who still sleeps with her fists clenched tight.
The woman who hears the echos of the past on the daily.
Who sees the things that have happened to her when she just happens
to close the lids of her eyes.
Who can recall the moment that sanity was lost and lives were damaged.

No, you don’t see her and I don’t blame YOU.
I blame myself.

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2014 Track 01 of 52

This is hubby’s new project. Please go listen, comment, etc. 🙂
Thank you!

jacoberu's toy bin

“ate a bit of nineties nostalgia” is an homage to the video game music i grew up with, some of it quite good.

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Happy December. Finally this year is almost over. I hope and pray the next one is better. I can’t handle more of this crap for another year. *sigh* We won’t have the internet much longer, because it can’t be afforded and that is greatly upsetting. There are no jobs in the paper, so I’m going to have to go elsewhere to get online and try to find a job. I’m not sure how much longer I can stand living here, because we are constantly treated like children and that does not help our mental health problems. 

I have been off of my last anti-depressant, Celexa, for long enough now that I can see, I need meds, I think. I am probably bipolar as well. It runs in my family (side note: I love that song by Amanda Palmer! “Runs in the Family”), and wouldn’t be a surprise, because now that I’ve been without meds for my mental health, I have seen how much and how quickly my moods change and well, I am not a balanced person, ha! in more ways than one (thank you scoliosis!).

Some good news–I am going to help a fellow scoli fusion patient with her site and stuff. I’m hoping this will become something bigger, because as common as scoliosis is, unfortunately, so many people are still unaware of it. So she hopes to raise awareness and I want to be a part of it. I don’t know how I’m going to get to do this with no internet here. I can’t really ask my mom or brother to pay for our internet, they’ve already helped with so much. I am so grateful for all they have done.

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I can’t believe I wrote some of the posts and words and sentences I did about being happy and filled with so much joy. Why must depression come back and destroy all the beauty I had created and throw it’s dark, slimy hatred on everything? I am still trying to *SNAP* and be in the moment, but what do you do when the moment sucks ass and you just want to run far from it?! Then you’re just stuck. :/



I am so sorry I haven’t written in so long. I just keep forgetting, but no more! I am going to make a point to journal in here, if not daily at least a few times during the week. I have a draft that I have been working on, but for whatever reason I haven’t finished it and now I may not. Who knows. Anyway…

I just looked at myself in the mirror, saw my jiggly stomach and started to panic. What if I lose the weight I have gained, but then I end up with the excess skin people sometimes get. I don’t want that to happen. I will be mortified. I am so scared right now that I could cry. I need to lose weight, because I want to be healthier, while fitting smaller, cute clothes is a benefit, it is more about me being healthier and taking care of the one body I have. I’m trying not to panic here over this, but it’s hard not too, when I know that my small frame was never meant to hold this much weight. I just want to cry so much. All of this weight put on because of depression, then because of anti-depressants. I have stopped taking celexa and in just the first few days now, I have drastically decreased my calories. I am not hungry much at all now and while I am not starving myself on purpose or anything, I just don’t want to eat. It’s like my body knows I have ate *WAY* too much lately from the medicine and it’s trying to correct itself or something by keeping me from getting hungry.

Ok, trying to think of something else to write about other than fat and weight, because it dwells on me so much. Thanks, mom! I wish moms knew how much their negative self talk really fucks up their kids, especially their daughters! Lately I have realized so many things about my childhood that I don’t know where to begin. The most recent thing being– my dad made me and my mom ashamed to be girls. I do not mean that he did it intentionally at all. He probably doesn’t even know he did it at all. Hell the man doesn’t realize that I have had shitty self-esteem, because he NEVER told me I was pretty or anything, because I “should have known” without him having to tell me. WTF?! So back to the being ashamed to be girls….

I have stopped showering. Out of context that sounds hilarious! I have started taking baths instead. Maybe it’s just me, but baths seem more feminine. I remember, as I was growing up, my dad saying that after he was in the military, he couldn’t take a bath anymore and had to shower daily, which drove his mom crazy. Because he showered daily, we all did pretty much. (Yeah when I was really small I remember taking baths and when I could bathe myself still taking them, but I don’t know when I started showering and just quit bathing. Since I am staying at my mil’s home and she thinks something is wrong with one of the showers (there isn’t, but she won’t listen), I have been forced to take to a bath (the downstairs shower hurts my skin, because of the pressure and makes breathing difficult. yay for one lungers! lol). The first time I took a bath, it was so great and wonderful! How silly that something that simple would make such a huge difference in my life! *smh* I really do sound crazy now. I realized that my mom doesn’t take baths, not because she gets bored in there, but because the way my dad trained us to think without knowing he was doing it. “When you take a bath you sit in your own filth and it’s disgusting.” Well, if you’re that dirty, maybe you should take a shower, but for the most part usually women don’t get that sweaty and dirty, so why not soak. I’ve realized there is nothing wrong with soaking in the tub and having soft skin and putting lotion on after a bath and taking care of my skin and the rest of me.

I was also made to be ashamed because of being sensitive. It is funny now, but it wasn’t then… my brother swallowed a quarter and I freaked out! I was terrified he was going to choke on it and I got so upset. I was picked on relentlessly by my own family, especially my dad. He doesn’t know when to let things go and just stop talking about them (e.g. he told a complete stranger about my first filling and me attempting to say that a friend said it would hurt and it didn’t hurt at all and not realizing my face was numb and I sounded like an idiot; to this day he picks on me about that). He treats girls like he does guys and he doesn’t realize that is not how it works.

Even recently he was joking with me and then said something about someone else and he told me picking on someone and them not realizing it (because you sound like you’re serious) is the whole point. I told him not really, because then people’s feelings get hurt and he didn’t like what I told him. I had a heart-to-heart conversation with him recently and it didn’t make a difference at all. He will never apologize for not being there and not being the dad and husband he should have been. He blames it on his parents and I will never hear, “I’m sorry” from him. He will not admit he was wrong or has done wrong by us.

I have decided to stop playing his game. I will no longer be using gas that I don’t have to do favors for him, because he acts like my brother and I owe him something and I am done with that. I owe him NOTHING. He acts like he is broke, but he has lost touch with reality and doesn’t know what it means to be broke anymore.

I’m just going to stop this for now, because it’s 6:45 AM here and I need to get some breakfast and try to do some stuff today. I will be back soon though. 🙂

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Better Now

I cannot believe just how much my life has changed in such a short amount of time. While I am a Christian, I’m not going to blabber on here like some annoying Bible-beater from the south. (Well more southern than WV already is. 😉 ) I recently made the decision to stop dwelling on the past–those people are gone. That does not mean that the impact they had on my life is diminished, it just means I have accepted that I can’t do anything to change the fact that they’re gone. I still love them just as deeply as when they were here, and I greatly wish they could be here. I wish they hadn’t swallowed the pills or sipped that last drink or pulled the trigger and that I could call them and make plans to hang out and share this recently acquired happiness and freedom.

What has happened? A few things have helped pull me out of the dark and lonely pit that is depression. I finally got off my butt and called a mental health clinic that is nearby. That is where I got the help I have needed since I was a small child, but I kept to myself and refused to let anyone in to help me. People were always a disappointment and would let me down time and again. The first person I saw was a P.A. who started me on one anti-depressant that didn’t really work, but I told her the long list of medicines I had taken before for my depression and anxiety and how they had or had not helped. Luckily the second one, Celexa, has helped some and it’s a $4 Rx at most pharmacies. That’s not what made the big change in my life though.

So what really changed my life isn’t a what, but a who. Her name is Bruna and she is my counselor. I have seen a few different counselors/therapists during the last 11 years (I was diagnosed with depression in Sept. 2001, but didn’t see any counselors, etc. until the following year in Aug. 2002 [wow! I cannot believe it’s been that long ago, since I was first diagnosed with depression–it was September of 2001, just days before 9/11 and I was 17]) Due to some health problems (I ended up in the hospital with pneumonia in the middle of summer, even though I hadn’t went anywhere and wasn’t around anyone.), I had to cancel a couple of appointments after my first visit. I felt like shit for doing that, but when you can’t leave the house without having a panic attack, you just stay curled up in your little ball of misery, because it’s what you know and what you’re comfortable with. When I went to an appointment with her about a month ago (August, 2013), she told me that she had closed my case, because I have to go to every appointment and I hadn’t seen her since the end of May. I felt so shitty and guilty, when she said that. We kinda went over some of the stuff from the first meeting and she wanted to review my goals again. I told her I wanted to work on my anxiety and depression (unfortunately, out of all of the medical “professionals” I have seen, NONE of them have asked me to make goals for what I wanted to gain from therapy). I told her how I knew I was stuck in the past and worried about the future. I was dealing with anticipatory anxiety and I didn’t know how to live in the here and now. She sat in front of me and asked me what was she doing? I was confused and said something, but it was wrong. She sat there snapping her fingers at me and then I said snapping. She told me she wanted me to snap my fingers when I caught myself drowning in the past or getting lost in the future. I told her how I have trouble going to Wal-Mart, because whenever I am in public I am so self-conscious that I tense up and cause my back to start hurting so badly I am almost in tears, thus I use more medicine than I am supposed to. I always fear that people are watching me, judging me, looking down on me, and laughing at me. There are certain memories from Middle School that have scarred me and left wounds and I was not able to let go of them.

***** Here, enjoy a post within a post! ….. Side trip back to middle school (and a little before)— when I was in the 5th and 6th grades, I had to wear a back brace, because of my scoliosis, unfortunately it didn’t help and I still ended up with the rods in my back (i.e. scoliosis fusion). I was 6th grade and in this new school with these new people and some of them I had known from my previous elementary school (before I transferred in the 3rd grade) and they weren’t nice to me anymore. These girls were rude and snobby and their parents had money, whereas mine did not. I was standing in choir and two of these girls from my first elementary school that were my best friends when we were all younger, were staring at me and giggling and pointing. Finally one of them (the one that just so happens to be my cousin by marriage [if you count that sort of thing]) told me I had a booger in my nose. I was so embarrassed! How could I have a booger?! :O Who cares that everyone has them and they happen to EVERY living soul on the planet, I was mortified and asked to go the restroom. Luckily this teacher let me [why is it that people know it’s not good for you to hold it and not go, yet teachers won’t let you go, when you ask…grrrr!] and as I was walking to the bathroom I rubbed my nose, and as soon as I got in there, since no one was around I checked and had nothing in my nose, but I was so upset about them laughing at me; they used to be my friends! Why were they being so mean to me now? I hadn’t done anything to them. I was still me, still nice to them, still wanted to be their friend. I wanted to be someone’s, anyone’s friend. A couple of years later, I was on the school bus riding home, when the person sitting beside started whispering to his 2 female friends that were sitting behind us. They all started cackling and shrieking in laughter. Then I heard what they were talking about. I happened to have some wax in my ears. You would think again, that’s no big deal, everyone has wax in their ears. These 3 kids were so cruel and wounded me deeply. “Why don’t you clean your ears? *sounds of menacing laughter* Ewww, you’re so gross. That’s so nasty! *more laughter and pointing ensued*” I wish I could go back in time and give that young girl a hug and tell her that it will be okay.   *****

Ok, now back to Bruna… She told me how the food stamp program is now called S.N.A.P (I already knew this) and she had just learned this, but had been seeing the signs (we accept S.N.A.P.) at a lot of stores, when she went shopping. She said it reminded her of her little piece of advice about snapping your fingers to alert yourself to stop worrying and dwelling on things that are beyond your control. As she was saying this, I realized and so did she, that from now on, when I see these signs in the grocery store or wherever, I can use it as a reminder (especially since going out in public has been such a problem for me) to focus on the here and now. Life isn’t about the “what ifs,” but the “what is,” such as what IS happening now, not what if i had done this or what if this (negative thing) happens.

At a recent general health check-up to get my inhalers and more nebulizer medicine, a friend, Sheri, also gave this helpful insight… “What are they (the debt collectors) going to do? Your credit is probably already ruined, (but that can be worked on again) so what are they going to do? They can take a bite of this.” As she said, “take a bite of this,” she smacked her ass. I started laughing and said she had a very good point. It’s true, too. Yes, it sucks that I have no job (looking for one currently), which means no income, which then leads to unpaid bills, resulting in my great credit score going down the toilet. So what though? I have a roof over my head and food in my stomach. I have the love of my soul mate, the man I can’t imagine my life without, my best friend and husband, Jacob. I finally have great friends in my life, thanks to Kidd Kraddick and his morning show, may he RIP. I have my furbaby and the happiness and love he gives. Life is actually pretty great for the first time that I can remember in so long. It is nice to be able say, think, and feel it deep within my soul.

As I am closing out the decade of my 20s, I look forward to what my 30s will bring into my life. Here’s to more joy, happiness, and most of all being thankful to God for all of the blessings He has showered me with.


Why I am Obsessed with Bluebirds . . .

This video is an animation that Monika Umba created of my favorite poem,”Bluebird,” by Charles Bukowski . Although I do not know Monika personally, I am grateful that I happened upon this in the past quite randomly. (If you enjoy this, check out more of her work on her own site.) Below is the text to the poem, so you can also read it and soak up the beauty of its words with your eyes.

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
in there.

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
you want to blow my book sales in

there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
and we sleep together like
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do