Please Come Back

How will I remember what you feel like? Your skin, how soft was it? What did your hair feel like? Was it soft or course? Did it smell like roses? Surely not, because you were sweating uncontrollably. Your clothes that you were in last, I had begged to have saved, for I could not part with them. The last of you... They were drenched in water. I smelled them. I put them to my face and breathed in heavily, never caring what a biohazard that may have been. I let my lungs take what had been left of you and I don’t regret it. I don’t ever regret knowing the truth, what is real, what actually happened. That brings closure and peace, it closes gaps, and brings light to the darkness of the unknowns and “what ifs”. When I breathed it in, I knew that you had struggled. It was the stench of a man that had tossed and turned and fought his last fight. Every cell in your body had exercised and expended its energy to save you, but it didn’t work. There was a particular must to your clothing that hinted you had not been clean for a while. As a daughter, this makes me worry. Why weren’t you clean? Were you depressed? Anxious? Were you going through another episode? A mental health break? Most importantly, did you need someone to help you with these things? Why wasn’t I around? Why was no one around? I can’t blame myself. I know why things were the way that they were, but damn it, it hurts. For whatever reason it may be, you were clearly unable to take the best care of yourself. That hurts. What if I forget what you’re like, though? What if I forget what your hugs felt like? Or what your voice sounded like? That notorious sweet southern twang to your voice may sound clear as day now, but it may not be years down the road. How many freckles, dips, scars, or hairs did you have on your face? Your arms? I don’t know. I don’t remember. I’m afraid to lose you in my mind and I already lost you physically. I can’t call you anymore. I can’t hug you. We didn’t have enough memories, not enough time. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t even try to have those things anymore, because it’s no longer an option. How will I ever know if we could have had a closer, healthier relationship? I won’t. You’re dead now. You’re gone. The remnants of your body; your ashes reside in my home and that is all I have left of you. I don’t want to forget you. I want you to come back. Please, come back.   07/31/2023 -Cleo

Grief

Grief is so many things and it is not the same for any one person. Grief is having a hollowness in your chest that was once full, or maybe you never even noticed the space was there until the loss. Grief is the longing for something intangible. It is the uncomfortable silence where words were once plentiful. The sensation of adrenaline and tingling in the chest, similar to when you forgot that you have somewhere important to be or a phone call to make, and you need to get to it, but then realizing that the thing you needed to get to no longer exists. Grief is when I feel the sudden panicked urge to call my Dad and tell him how much I love him, that I miss him, that I am going to drive over RIGHT NOW and visit with him, but then realizing that I can’t, and an abundance of tears follow. It is replaying any and all of the memories that you had with them in your mind, but also coming to terms with the fact that there will be no more memories. It is the sensation of juggling balls and coming close to dropping them, but then getting balanced right before they can fall, and there is again a sense of adrenaline; perhaps coming down from a rollercoaster ride - but once you realize your person is gone, the balls end up falling anyway and you crash. Grief is driving down the road and hearing a song on the radio that was their favorite and you begin to cry and hope that it is their way of letting you know that they’re with you. It’s replaying their unique voice in your mind; the accent, different pitches and tones, the warmth, and character. Reliving and remembering certain facial expressions and mannerisms. Grief is the worry that you will never remember what their skin felt like, what they looked like, how tight the embraces were, the softness of their hair, what they smelled like, or how many freckles they had. It is going to places that they would have gone and doing the things that they would have done. It’s telling their stories and sharing their legacy, never letting their memory die. Grief is anger, confusion, sadness, emptiness, panic, anxiety, depression, and all of the other ugly emotions. For some, including myself, it is avoidance, the worst way. Grief is many things, but the one thing that we can all agree on, is that it’s one hell of a beast.  07/31/2023 -Cleo

Article For Local Newspaper 07/30/23

Tiny home living is a movement that has become quite popular over the last few years. There are several different types of tiny homes, but a couple of examples are those built on trailers so that they can be portable and classified as RVs, converted storage containers and sheds, and stick-built. I first learned about the tiny house movement as a young teenager and I knew that it’s what I wanted to do. I started working at the age fourteen and was great at saving my money. I understood the concept of cash, saving, and I also knew the struggle that many American families faced with poverty and lack of housing. I had seen my own family struggle to pay their mortgage when the most uncertainty struck and jobs were suddenly lost. You think things won’t happen to you until they do. I remember thinking back then, “If there is a way to be free of financial burden, I want to achieve that for my adulthood!” With that said, I spent a few years researching tiny houses, and I started to make my dream into a reality. In 2016, I purchased a wooden 400 square foot shed and converted into a home over time. I knew what price range to expect with the conversion, but I had NO idea just what all I was in for. The problem I faced was getting the city to allow my home. I had purchased a lot in city limits; never really thinking about the fact that my home would be seen as something so out of bounds. This caused an uproar in the town, people started talking - a lot of good, and some bad. Some people were thinking it would be the new local cafe, others believed it was an extension of the school. Some loved it, some hated it. It wasn’t until I built my tiny home that I realized just how much people love to squash the hopes and dreams of others. This would have been the first tiny home in our area. For years, folks have come up to my front door and asked about my “cute little cottage”. Many of those have asked to purchase my home right then and there! Since this was a new idea in the way of housing/building, there were new specific codes from the county that I would have to follow in order to get my home passed as “legal”. Of course, every newly built home has building codes to follow to get a permit, but there were things that would be different with my tiny home, as it would be the first permitted one in our area. For example: the stud spacing in the walls are more narrow, there are over twenty steel anchors going throughout the perimeter floor, one awning window in the bedroom, and the panel box inside cannot be next to the window. These are just a short list of specific modifications that had to be made in order to pass code. That is the part that was most challenging. Several mistakes were made along the way and work that had already been paid for, had to be redone, and paid for again. That meant I spent double the amount of money! I have had many positive and negative reactions to my home, as it was something new and shiny. Controversy followed the build. Though I did not attend and did not know about it until later on, there was a meeting held about allowing my tiny home into our city. There were folks in Gulf County that stood up for me and exercised their First Amendment Right by using their voices and expressing their opinions on the matter. I won’t name names, but you know who you are, and I would like to thank you! Everything that I did in my building journey was legal and safe. There is no reason for tiny homes to be outlawed. I finished my home at the age of nineteen years old in 2017. I had no mortgage, no debts, and I was financially free with a beautiful place to call my own. As I write this article, I am twenty five years old, a Florida REALTOR®, phlebotomist, and mortuary assistant. I still live in my tiny home and LOVE it just as much as day one! I aspire to help other folks find their individuality and start their path to freedom with tiny home living! There were a lot of hoops to jump through, but I did it, and so can you! If you have a dream, chase it. You can do anything that you put your mind to! Tiny home living is freeing in so many ways. Minimalistic living is not just for finances, it is also eliminating clutter and things that we do not really need. This lifestyle has shown me what is most important in life and it keeps me wanting to do more outside of four walls like spending time with others, gardening, and being in nature. Maybe you have a four bedroom home and only use one of the rooms. Why do you need that much space? Maybe you collect junk and wish that you could downsize and learn to live simplistically. Tiny home living may be for you if so! I could write chapters about the pros of this lifestyle, but for now I will leave you with one last one, and that is the affordability of living with the low cost of utilities and more. My advice to anyone wanting to build one is to RESEARCH. Pick your design and size, figure out where your property will be, and take that information to your local building department to see what you will be required to do in order to get your permit. If you ever have any questions at all about tiny home living or questions for me on my journey, I would love to chat with you! Feel free to email me at: [email protected] Sincerely, Your Neighbor, - Cleo 

Unreality

I dream of you every night. I hate that I do, and don’t know why I do, but I do. I wish that you would leave my mind in that way... in the way that I get to see you and feel you again, only to wake up and realize that you’re not there. None of it was real. All of my life, I have loved and lost. Loved and lost. Loved and lost. It’s a prominent wound in my life that never fully gets to heal because it happens over and over again. You ripped that wound again. Though I don’t think it was your fault, truly, I don’t know. This entire thing has made me question my own reality. How can you love someone so much and in the blink of an eye, they’re gone? How can every word of love spoken, every laugh, every fun memory become nothing other than history in the blink of an eye? How can two hearts in love be separated in the matter of minutes? How can one phone call end such a tight bond? Why am I treated as though I’ve done something horrendously wrong, when all I’ve ever done is love with every fiber of my being? I’m so confused... I’m lost...  05/14/2023 -Cleo

Do you think if we knew / this would be the last time / we would be happy together, / that we would do / something / different? / Something / to stop it?

A Breaking Point

“First you should get bullied. You should have your parents hate you, despise you. Violate you and betray you. You should spend your pre teen years feeling alone, misunderstood, hated and profiled by people who look down on you. You should be told you're nothing. That you're trash and worthless, left alone, isolated, ignored during school studies and felt like nobody wants to be your friend or even spend time with you during studies. You should feel like the tutors won't help you, how parents don't care. How absolutely the whole world just wants you to die. To suffer and waste away. Daddy won't help you. Mummy doesn't care. Your favorite teacher you thought was your friend suddenly betrayed you too. And the tutor who replaces her because she had to go get chemo therapy, laughed at you, breaking down in class when asked to teamwork with others as they laughed at you….  As they had done for so many years you couldn't even remember when you felt safe. And then when you're at your lowest, your weakest, saddest, you'll either break, or you'll give into a side of yourself that might reside within you, and embrace anger. Hatred, and defend yourself at whatever cost because people are trash, nobody cares for you, it's just you l, and what you do to take back they which they stole from you. These worthless, selfish, unfair pieces of shit who betray you left and right, refuse to help you or even look at you in any other way than disgust. Repay them with that very gaze. And make them suffer as you have suffered. Because you're no longer a victim. You won't allow it. Take… use… and enjoy doing whatever the hell you want because if this is how it is… then so be it. Let it all burn, on your terms. And only your terms…And there you go. When you've been all the way down in ways I didn't even mention because of how many ways there are, if you manage to survive this, you might be damaged enough to certifiably not give a rat fuck anymore and all you're doing is to fit in, put on a smile, wear the mask of a gentleman daily meanwhile being so out of touch, so not there, you will never be able to tell a soul because they will abandon you out of fear. And that is your life. Which you either revel in and enjoy greatly. Nuanced, hateful, sadistic, merciless and vengeful, whilst perfectly able to imitate emotion and empathy, living a normal life, smiling and loving… in the way you control. Or you hate who you are and find yourself lost, angry, all depending on how weak or strong you are. Ultimate you will seek the way you never… get hurt again. And if that does a happen anyway, all bets are off. For better or worse all depending on who you truly wish to be. But this is a delusion you will never truly ditch, because you will imitate humanity so well that normal people will find you creepy, weird, too emotional and the ultimate irony of this will just be the last nail in the coffin as you both move forward and seethe at the thought of everyone around you being fake to boot. And you see them…. You see all of them for who they really are.“ -James Salvadore 

The Day The Music Died

The Day The Music Died…

What we had was a symphonic language, a melody A beat to a drum and a rhythm of glee

The kind of sweet tune tune that heals pain and brings light to dark,

Much like the hum of the sea -

Silencing everything around it for miles; the noisy commute of every day hushed up by a chaotic calm of the crashing waves. 

Much like the hum of the sea - 

A mass that stretches for miles, far beyond what my eyes can see, and I wonder what is out there. I used to think of how long it would take to sail away, but with you, no longer.

Much like the hum of the sea - 

As we listen to the waves pouncing onto the shore, our hearts are collected and calm, and I describe what I see as you listen with your ears. A piece of my life I grieve over; perhaps I didn’t realize until now that describing what was right in front of us was something that came naturally to me, something that was a norm because of my father figure. Describing a world to him in which he could not see, but I could. “My eyes”, he would say. I didn’t realize that there was somehow a piece of him in you and that makes it harder. Being his daughter trained me for the day that I met you. To be able to be the person I needed to be for you. Your eyes. 

We were the sweetest symphony,

The kind that lifts your soul higher than ever before The kind that breaks down your walls and reveals your core. 

The sweet happy emotions that music can bring… The hot feeling of blood rushing faster in your chest or the ride down from a rollercoaster. The smell of grandma’s jelly biscuits first thing in the morning, the scent of nature when it rains, the feeling of seeing someone you love after not seeing them for a long time…

All feelings that are like a sweet, harmonious tune to take you higher. 

You took me higher. 

We were a treble cleff. Harmony. 

You took me as I am, and I took you,

Though the distance was long, we were prepared through and through.

There was no mountain high enough, and no valley low,

You were the one for me, oh the places I’d go. 

Every touch to your arm, every kiss to your lips, every stroke of your hair, every grab to my hips

The music went on. 

Every song that we sang, every dance that we danced, the music was a background noise to our memories. 

You said that hearing Queen on the radio made you think of me, and I said that one country song made me think of you. Each of us hearing music in two separate states that remind us of each other, the memories that await. 

You and I were jazz - just rhythm, no blues. I still remember learning all of your sweet cues. The way that your nose brushed against my cheek or my ear, though it tickled, it showed you were near. The kiss that followed was always so sweet, my heart then feeling a particular heat. Just like music, it goes on and on and on. It changes, it flows, but it never truly goes. Its volume can lower and a tune can need rest, but at the end of the day, some music will always be best. Music may leave us for some spurts of our lives

Maybe we can’t listen, or maybe it dies. 

One thing is for sure, it’s never too long,

Music always comes back, and music is strong. It may be a dark time in life and tunes don’t seem so right,

But just give it time and some counted nights, it will come back, some music is for life.

The day that we met was the best kind of song. One that neither of us will ever forget. 

Your heart beat like a drum, so fast and so steady. At the end of that day, you’d asked if I was ready -

To be yours. 

I’d never felt so full of knowing. You were the one, all signs showing. 

I’ll never forget the fortune cookie that I got just prior to that day,

“Take that chance you’ve been considering.”

I took a chance on you, you took a chance on me, it was a strong love, our hearts were finally set free. 

We all have a cup, some empty, some full. Though mine was just right, you somehow filled my cup like the salt water fills the ocean. You poured love and happiness into my life like never before. And I poured into yours. We were two flowers that sprouted up even higher than we had thought imaginable. Love is beautiful. Love is healing. Love is light. You quenched a thirst that I didn’t even know I had. I thought that I knew love, but I had no idea until I met you. There were so many beautiful things that we had that I had never experienced before. The inspiring, motivating, and encouraging each other every day. Sharing our daily activities and lifting each other up throughout the day. Laughing, so much laughing! So much positivity! Never a dull moment, never any negativity! Not rushing to do things or going for the wrong things. Never. Instead, taking a healthy and respectable time for one another, as it should be. Loving each other enough to protect and respect fully. Adventuring together. Dancing, laughing, singing, exploring, being vulnerable together, crying together, smiling together, holding each other, sweet surprises, kindhearted and wholesome messages all of the time to let each other know how we truly felt inside of our hearts and souls. 

As you said, “True love never dies.” 

And then one day, the music died. 

You were right. True love never dies, but the music did. 

Where is my sweet symphony? Where is my velvet tune, so soft and silky that I could touch it with my own fingers? Better yet, where is the other half to my treble clef? 

Though I am a whole woman proudly so, there is now a hallow piece inside. I am now a half note instead of a whole. I am no longer part of a treble clef. The music died. 

Every day, I listen for you. I hear you speaking to me, but not through music; for those songs I can no longer listen to without my heart breaking further. I hear you saying, “You know the truth. You know the story. Please wait for me. Don’t give up.” 

How long must I wait before the music comes back to life? How long?

She sits on a porch step so late in the night,

The air was still and empty, the moon shining and bright. 

Memories flood her mind and a smile approaches her face

She tells herself that she can wait as long as needed, this is no race. 

It may be a while, and she will go on to live her life, but she will wait. 

True love never dies. And love always wins.

Looking out towards the north, she feels a string connecting herself and another. No matter how long they’ve been apart, it still remains. There is no doubt that it will always be connected and never severed. 

On her darkest days, she may cry and break down, but it just takes some time and she will adjust her crown. She knows who she is and where her heart lies. Though there is plenty of evil in this world that want to steal happiness and tear love apart, the truth will always be revealed. Karma will always be served. God will handle everything in God’s time. 

Genesis 4:  You cannot hide injustice. It will surface sooner than later. What is done in the dark in the countryside or in the closet will eventually come to light.

Luke 12:2-3 2 For there is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed; neither hid, that shall not be known. 3 Therefore whatsoever ye have spoken in darkness shall be heard in the light; and that which ye have spoken in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon the housetops.

Would you go with me if we rolled down streets of fire? Would you hold on to me tighter as the summer sun got higher? If we roll from town to town and never shut it down Would you go with me if we were lost in fields of clover? Would we walk even closer until the trip was over? And would it be okay if I didn't know the way? If I gave you my hand, would you take it And make me the happiest man in the world? If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, girl Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea Let me know if you're really a dream I love you so, so would you go with me? Would you go with me if we rode the clouds together? Could you not look down forever If you were lighter than a feather Oh, and if I set you free, would you go with me? If I gave you my hand, would you take it And make me the happiest man in the world? If I told you my heart couldn't beat one more minute without you, girl Would you accompany me to the edge of the sea Help me tie up the ends of a dream I gotta know, would you go with me? I love you so, so would you go with me?

-Cleo 4/28/2023 The day the music died: 4/10/2023

What is time, in love?

Sometimes these are hard to write. Not because I don’t know what to say, but because I don’t know how to say it. There has been something on my mind today and all of this weekend -- something that I have never felt or experienced before. I have met a special love, but the part that I’ve never experienced before is the connection I feel and the chemistry that is there. What has been on my mind most of all, you may wonder? It’s the fact that I feel as though I have known this person all of my life and maybe even before. How is that possible? I don’t even know. One month has gone by, just one. One. Yet it feels like an eternity and in a good way. I have trouble explaining this. I’ve never been one to rush into things or go too fast, and I don’t think that’s what I’m doing now, but I have also never felt this way about a person. Did I know them in another life? Were we fragments of the same star, a twin flame? What is time, really? What is time to you, to me? People have always said, “Don’t go too fast.” What is too fast? What is too slow? How can one person tell another person what too fast or not fast enough is? If everyone felt as though they’d met their soulmate, would they still feel the same? I believe we should listen to our hearts. That is what my Papa always taught me. He said the worst thing you can ever do is listen to someone else, or try to live your life according to what others have suggested to you. Listen to and follow your heart, he would say. That is what I lived by and had some of both the greatest and worst experiences of my life, but regardless of the turnout of each, there was an extraordinary life lesson nestled in all of those experiences. At the end of the day, I’m glad I listened to my heart. I knew what I wanted and what was best for me at that time and that was all that mattered. So here I am, feeling the way I do about someone, and this is all I can think about. What is time to you? Time to me? Have you ever felt as though you’ve known someone much longer than you actually have? How do you explain that? Some will say that those are soul connections; ones that you had in a previous life that are recycling. It depends on what you believe in.  If one month feels like an eternity of knowing someone, what will three more months be like? Should I back up and observe? Should I let time stagger, closely inspecting each day? Of course I shouldn’t. But what will months feel like? Years? This feeling of serendipity from the first moment has not gone away, and like he says, it won’t. He’s right. 

I’m very aware of my thoughts and feelings, always have been, always have meditated these things. Feeling this way about someone has left me motionless at times and flabbergasted. I ask God, “Why now?” Not that I’m complaining!!! I just find the timing in beautiful things so interesting! Yes, I was married before, but that was a mistake and I wish it could have been this person instead. Someone who loves me genuinely and truly, wholly, happily, and healthily. Even still, I am thankful for the life hurdles and lessons that I have been given on my journey. They all shaped me into who I am today. Had it not been for that piece of my past, I would likely not know how to appreciate what I have right now. And what I have is something I want to keep and cherish forever. 

So again, the point, the thing that has been on my mind all weekend... What is time? What is too much? Do you follow with your heart? Have you ever been scared to express things fully because you don’t want to scare away or lose someone? Should you do it anyway, because as my Papa said, let your heart lead and be free? Oh boy, the thoughts are never ending!!! 

Who is one person to say to another what is too much or not enough? What if you have never felt what they have felt? How can you possibly relate? After writing all of this, and questioning myself, I believe I’m starting to get a clearer picture of what should be! The heart wants what the heart wants and nothing else should matter!

-Cleo 03/19/2023

Love, I Found

Nothing is physical. Nothing is seen with the eyes. Love is what is within; it is found inside. Today’s world lives in the opposite way unfortunately and I despise it. Even at a young age, I never understood why people chose their partners based on the outer shell. Not just that, but money, status, and occupation. I always loved people for who they are inside. That is what makes you rich and valuable in my personal opinion. And now, finally, I have found someone that loves the same way. 

You took a risk when you met me and so did I when I met you. We both took a plunge into the dark - in two different ways. Despite that plunge, we both knew right away what could be found in the other’s heart. There was love and light, smiles, joy, and most of all, connection and chemistry. I had been through too many hardships to count when it came to relationships and you had not been given enough chances. I don’t know which is worse, but what I do know is that God made the circumstances align so that we could find each other. I always longed for someone that would give me nothing but raw unrefined love and care. Someone that would want to truly get to know me for who I am, someone to talk with me, someone to show that I am as special to them as they are to me. I wanted someone to laugh uncontrollably with, someone to play with my hair, hold me close without me asking. I wanted someone whose family would love me like I was one of their own. I wanted positivity, inspiration, encouragement. I found all of those things when I met you. I can say that I had never had that in a person before. All of my relationships had some kind of negative overlay to them with “sides” or a “teaser” of some good things. I can’t believe how much I have been through in my past, the crazy things I’ve seen, and it feels like a gift from above to have finally met someone who is nothing but genuine and the epitome of healthy happy love. 

You wanted one thing, and so did I: Someone to love us for who we are inside.  We both got our wish. 

I feel so blessed that I met you. Thank you for loving me for me, fully, genuinely, truly. Thank you for loving my heart and soul, the most meaningful part of any one person. 

-Cleo 03/08/2023

Memory

You were a boulder; your frame strong and sturdy. Wide shoulders, a chest that stretched for miles, and arms to hold me tight. Not only did they hold me tight, but they made me feel protected and at home. Things may have been rough between us always, but I knew that you would stand up for me. You always did. You knew how to be burly when it was necessary. The nights that we would lay together in sweet harmony with no cares in the world… My head on your wide chest; the forest of hairs tickling my ears. The scent of you would fill my lungs and lull me to sleep like a child. You were my comfort. If anyone had seen the way that we share each others scents like two monkeys, they would laugh. We really did enjoy each other’s smell just that much. It was ecstasy to each of us. A deeply inhaled love drug. My nose pushed deep into your beard as we lay, I got the scent of floral potpourri, but we never knew why. We laughed over that. “You smell like the dollar store,” I’d say. There was no reason for your facial hair to smell of bagged flowers, but it always did. The first time that you took your shirt off, I saw the “X” across your heart followed by three similar nearby scars. I asked what they were and you sat me down to tell me, for the first time, one of the deepest stories of your life. It wasn’t often that you did. You were a closed off person, very guarded. One of my biggest frustrations was not being able to get too deep into your emotions. I knew that they were there, but they were locked up in a box. You told me your story of self mutilation. The way that you grew up feeling as if your mother didn’t care, your father was authoritarian, and there was no safe place in the middle. You were pushed between them to and fro like the unwanted disease that the two immature adults had conjured together. No one wanted you. You were a castaway. Then, you were sent to a facility for misbehaved children to stay until you became of age. That is where those scars developed. You wanted to go home, but no one would let you, including your parents. You were scared and homesick. You cut yourself because of how deeply you hurt. I think that is where everything started to crash on you emotionally. Maybe you had spent so many years repressing things because of your family dynamic…that it finally got out of control and you didn’t know how to handle it except take it out on your own body. I cried hearing your story. I put myself in your shoes and felt the way that you must have felt. I ran my fingers against your scars then, envisioning your suffering, but wanting my love to heal you somehow someway inside and out. Maybe, just maybe it would be enough to help in some way. Not just then did I touch your scars, but every time that we laid together. My heart hurt for you. I knew you had an emotional box inside, but it was locked up due to things like that. I could never have access to it because of people from your life. And that made me angry. 

The little brown mole near your heart, the tiniest sliver of space between your two front teeth, the way that eyes smiled with you, and the way you’d have an asthma attack if you laughed too hard are all things that I’ll remember forever. Singing songs together from the seventies and eighties, dancing in the kitchen at two in the morning, racing each other around town blocks like two big kids - and yes, you were faster than me. Even though you were shorter by three inches, your legs were obviously much stronger than mine, or something like that. I laughed so hard that I couldn’t breathe the day that you outran me for the first time. Knowing that you could run faster than me was so funny. I screamed in laughter and I’m sure the entire neighborhood was watching us in terror. “Who are these crazy bastards?”

So much in common. Finish each other’s sentences. We had a language of humor that no one else understood. That is why we could be the only two people laughing in a sea of others, but only us would understand why. Every moment was bliss with you. I couldn’t believe I had found my person. Best friends and lovers. We were the perfect duo and everyone in town thought so, too. That was until you turned bad. Doing wrong and leaving. Not just hurting me, but others. Before that, it was heaven. I would have done anything for you, and had. I’ve driven hundreds, thousands of miles to see you when my heart longed to be near you. I’ve sacrificed pieces of my own life for you. It ended in nothingness, just pain and nothingness, but I don’t regret a moment of it. The fact that I loved that strongly is something I will always carry with me. Though you are now gone, you will always be in my heart this way. I can never let you go. That volume of love never disappears from a person, or to a person. I don’t regret that, either. I have previously tried to force it away as if it were a diseased thought, but no longer. It has a safe home in my mind and heart. I will not force love to go away or fight it because it simply does not work that way. I will always love the love that I had for you. 

I am not the same me.

I am not the same person I was before. Let me explain. There is my life before seeing my brain and after seeing my brain. There is my life before starting a new medication (Wellbutrin) and my life after starting a new medication. From the ripe age of eleven years old, I have suffered immensely with mental health issues. This was first spotted by my family physician who had been my doctor from the moment I was released from my mother’s womb. Let’s call her Dr. C. Dr. C noticed that I was not going to school as often as I should have been at the age of eleven. I had many appointments with her where I would complain of a new “sickness” and random symptoms, but she started to notice a pattern with me. I wasn’t actually sick, I was fishing for doctor’s notes to escape school. I was not one to be bullied at school, nor did I have problems with my teachers at the time, but I did have something deeper going on. An internal struggle every single day. I did not want to be around anyone, even my own family. I would have rather spent every single day in my bedroom sleeping the day away and when I was awake, reading books or playing computer games. I knew that I wasn’t like the other kids at school. They had a brightness; a happiness about them. They woke up refreshed every morning with smiles on their faces and looked forward to going to school. They had determination and motivation about everything. I couldn’t quite understand why I was the one child that wasn’t smiling and giddy like they were. I participated in things with them, but I did not feel connected. Their energies felt so different than mine, in a good way. Dr. C then told me she wanted to speak with me alone. She asked about my life at home and if there were any problems that I wanted to talk about. It was then that I was able to tell someone, a professional, about my messed up childhood and how I didn’t ever want to do anything because I was so sad all of the time. That was when she diagnosed me with depression and anxiety and started me on my very first trial run of medications. Though I can’t remember what the first medications were, I know they were SSRIs. Doctors typically start you off on something like Prozac, Lexapro, or Abilify. I took these medications along with therapy both at my school (not a guidance counselor, but a school therapist) and outside of school with a therapist for children. This went on for years. Therapy, medications, therapy, medications. Swapping medications. Adding new medications. None of them were helping me at all. In fact, many of them made me worse off. This only added to the despair that I felt throughout my childhood up until my early adult life. I was not getting the proper help customized for me, though everyone was trying and getting nowhere. It was infuriating. In 9th grade, I was groomed by my aunt’s grown boyfriend and he took advantage of me. I thought that he was my mentor and a male that I could trust in. Boy, was I wrong. I was young, hurt within, and naive. He knew that. He knew a lot about me and my family. Soon after, word got around the school. I had some girl friends of mine who had been around my aunt’s boyfriend with me, though never abused by him like I was, they witnessed the way that he was with me firsthand. The word spread like wildfire, and in horrible ways that you would never wish on your worst enemy, let alone a young teenager. I had people calling me at my phone number mocking me, making sexual noises, how I sure “loved my aunt’s boyfriend”, and whatever else they could say. It was so bad that I had to report it to the police. The local police said, “What do you want me to do about it?” My reply? “You really have to ask me that? TAKE CARE OF IT!” I couldn't even go to school. This was the first time I had ever dealt with bullying in my life and it was over some abuse that I had received from an adult man. I stopped going to school. Due to that, I failed my 9th grade year from my absences. Truancy officers threatened jail time on my family because it was their duty to make sure I got to school. I went just enough, barely any, so that no one got arrested. When my second 9th grade year rolled around, I realized that everyone looked at me differently as if I had been tainted with some disease. Even my best friend since 3rd grade had completely ignored me only to never speak to me again. On top of all of the things I was dealing with, this was the final nail in the coffin for me and school. By that time, I was old enough that I could drop myself out of school. I dabbled with homeschooling, but my depression kept me from getting anything done. Next, I tried an alternative school for people finishing their educations. Then, I got sexually attacked by an adult classmate of mine. That didn’t include the abuse that I’d had as a five year old child. By this point, my world was collapsing more than ever. I had lost friends, my ability to go to school, and I was severely traumatized in every way. It wasn’t until after the last assault that I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). They didn’t stop there, though. The diagnoses continued onward. 

Over the course of all those years, I was diagnosed with: Depression, generalized anxiety (GAD), panic disorder, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), major depressive disorder (MDD), borderline personality disorder (BPD), obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD), bipolar disorder (BP), attention deficit disorder (ADD), and a few others that I may be missing.  These wonky diagnoses led to completely unnecessary cocktails of medications for things. I was a growing child with an underdeveloped, growing brain that was being poisoned by psychiatric medications for years on end. By the time I turned eighteen years old, I said, “Enough is enough.” I had had enough. With that said, I decided to put an end to all use of medications and therapy. Once my body and brain detoxed, I seemed to be doing so much better. I was finally feeling my own emotions again naturally and I did not feel battered down by those awful side effects of medications that didn't even work for me in the first place. By then, I had learned all of the coping mechanisms that therapy could offer. I had been in for years, going once-twice a week. There came a point where the therapists could no longer tell me anything that I didn’t already know. 

Fast forward to 2018. This was a year of intense grief. The place where I live and grew up got completely wiped out by a natural disaster, my father figure (grandfather) passed away right afterward, and then my husband left me for the fourth time but that time he insisted on divorce. So, we divorced. I had lost so much. All of the things that were most important in my life were gone. This was the worst point of my life. That was four years ago, but it seems like yesterday, and I’m not over exaggerating that. It really does feel like yesterday. I can say with absolute clarity and stern affirmation that the last four years have been the worst of my (almost, in September) twenty-five year old life. I thought my childhood was hard, and it was, but there was no competition to the year 2018 and the aftermath that was to come. Those four years could be described in one word: suffering. It’s crazy because I have not even been able to notice how much time has passed until recently when my mind became more clear, and I will get to that in a moment. I did not realize how much of my life has gone by and how many days have been eaten up by mental illness. Four whole years. Maybe I was not able to see because I was so blind by the pain and suffering and trauma. Each day that I woke up, I wanted to keep sleeping. Many days I could not even drag myself out of bed. There were weeks that I had slept in the same clothes repeatedly without washing. Days that I didn’t eat anything or ate so much it would make me sick. Every day felt like a sack of bricks attached to every limb of my body. After a while, I started to think that maybe I had some kind of illness inside my body like thyroid or anemia. All of my blood work turned out fine and healthy every time. No one had an answer. I continued to suffer. Just before the trauma went down in 2018, I had left my job due to a back injury. It was a good thing that I did though, because I needed to spend those final moments with my father figure before he passed. For that, I’m grateful. However, I didn’t keep a steady job since then. I had some gigs here and there and I sold artwork, but there was never anything consistent. I was too damaged beyond repair to even think about getting a legitimate job position. Most days I didn’t even know my first name. I went from being a constantly busy employee, wife, and beloved grandchild regularly spending time with her folks... to nothing at all. I had no job, no husband, my family had fallen apart, and every day I had to witness the absolute evidence of destruction that was lingering around my town and all three counties beyond. Those four years were the most debilitating. Every day I contemplated suicide. I mean it when I say there was not a day that went by that I did not think about it. Some days were just thoughts, but others had plans behind them. Plans that I obviously never went through with, but I had tried. I kept trying to commit, but there was some force that was holding me back and I didn’t know why. 

Around November 2021, I got this sudden strong sense within me that something was about to change. There was about to be a transition of some kind. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew that it was coming. I had also had dreams that something was going to change. I had been using nicotine for many years (from age 15-24) by that point, but I had decided to quit. I had been experiencing fast heart beat and whether from anxiety or something else, I knew that using nicotine didn’t help. I tried to quit once in November and failed. Tried again in February and succeeded. I have been nicotine free ever since then, but let me tell you, the ride was not easy. When I had quit before, I realized that my post-quit symptoms were lingering longer than scientific research says they should. Every day after quitting felt like the first day of quitting. None of the symptoms were resolving, especially the brain fog and inattention. It got so bad that I would go into a room, completely forget what I was doing, and end up doing nothing at all. I would take a break from a task to read an article or watch a video online only to be consumed by it and not even realize until three or more hours later that I was there that long and had not completed my original task. It was insanity! This happened the second time I quit too in February. Months later, it never got better. I started to dig into this. What in the hell was happening? Why wasn’t I feeling better even a little bit? I tried telling my friends about this and even they couldn’t understand what was going on. Everyone I read about, even online, were saying that they felt completely fine again after 2-3 months. So why did I feel still like the first day of quitting? This is when I started to get aggravated with myself. I had overcome the biggest, nastiest habit of mine, my bloodwork was showing all signs of health, and I was feeling proud of my body and determination. Still, the mental part lingered and got worse and worse by the day. Feelings of wanting to die grew stronger. I attempted a few times and realized that I had to speak to my doctor about it. 

Since I had long quit therapy and medications, I had nothing but a family doctor to talk to about this. It was not Dr. C mentioned in the beginning of this entry, but a new doctor whom we will call Dr. R. This doctor suggested that I be open to trying a new medication. Truth be told, I had no choice. I was either going to die or die trying and I had nothing left to lose. The outcome of my life was looking morbid. After discussing medication history with her, she decided on Wellbutrin. It is a norepinephrine-dopamine reuptake inhibitor (NDRI). I told her that I wanted to get it filled, but I needed to take time to sort my thoughts before taking it. I wanted to be in control of this experience if I started back on psychiatric medications. What a long, dizzy road I had been on before... 

I got the Wellbutrin filled, but there was one last thing that I had to do, and this is where my story changes. I called a neuroscientist in the city to schedule myself to come in and get a brain map, also known as qEEG. I had been informed months prior that this was something I could do after years of having no luck with psychiatry and it could give me clearer answers to what is going on in my brain. People who have no success with medications, therapy, or simply have something going on that they can’t quite figure out, are the ones who go for brain mapping. There I was, getting ready to start my new medication, but before I did, I wanted to inquire with the neuroscientist. Neuroscientists focus on the brain and its impact on behavior and cognitive functions. They can spot things on your brain like mood disorders, seizure disorders, autism, and a variety of other things that would affect the brain. The price to do this was not cheap, but with the help of a generous family member, I was able to get in. This was a changing point in my life. 

The grand takeaway was that I have a gnarly dopamine imbalance. The serotonin on my brain was completely fine and normal and that would explain why the cocktail of SSRIs over the years never helped me. This was a profound finding and the answer to so many questions about myself. Both parts of the brain (dopamine and serotonin) play a part in happiness and uplifted moods, but dopamine is over things like: pleasure, rewards, focus, coordination, memory, and motivation. It was also discovered that I have a very high functioning brain. My thought waves were shown to be sprinting all over the place in chaos around my brain. The neuroscientist described me as “highly intelligent”. She stated that “average individuals” do not have that level of activity going at once in their brains, nor do they have the level of abstract thinking that was showing on my brain. Yes, all of those things can be seen. She described my condition as a “blessing and a curse”. Blessing to be intelligent, but a curse to be so anxious and malled with sensory issues. My sensory triggers are things such as loud noises (sometimes even low ones), lights, crowds of people, and so on. I never could understand why I was so sensitive to stimuli or why I prefer to sit alone in a still, quiet room. The brain map changed that for me. I also had spots of OCD (obsessive compulsions) on my brain, but they snapped in and snapped out. The scientist could not “diagnose” me with things, as that is a psychiatrist’s job, but she can use my brain results to tell me what parts are functioning differently and why. The good news was that she could tell me I had no sign of bipolar disorder. That was something I had asked her to look for due to the fact that my biological father has the disorder. I wanted to rule it out. I also had no autism that she could tell. Though she could not formerly diagnose me, she said that the dopamine imbalance could be causing my focus issues and depression; “It could be something like ADHD”. She encouraged me to follow up with my doctor and a therapist. 

So, how is that information so life changing for me? Finally, after all those years, I am able to finally and CLEARLY know what is going on in my brain. I don’t have a serotonin imbalance, but a dopamine imbalance. That means that serotonin medications will never help me feel better. Dopamine medications can, however. The other life changing thing that I never could have expected was a heartwarming confidence boost. Hey, thanks brain! It turns out we’re intelligent after all. We’re neurodivergent!  I learned why I’m sensitive to outside stimuli. I learned that my thoughts are zooming throughout my head with lightening fast speeds because my brain function is higher than other average humans. That, in turn, can cause anxiety. I learned that if I have no where to put my “brain power”, I can also end up with severe anxiety and depression. If there is nowhere for me to use my gift, then I feel unaccomplished and wasted. I also feel bored, anxious, and overwhelmed this way. Stir crazy. With that said, the scientist told me that it would be best for me to get my attention and depression under control so that I can apply my brain to something like a good career or schooling. “People like you are skilled in business and run huge corporations. I think you will be surprised what you can accomplish once you get this straightened out,” she told me. 

Guess what Wellbutrin is? Like I said earlier, it is a dopamine drug. Heck yeah! On July 2, 2022, I started my new medication that my doctor prescribed. I finally felt confident enough with the brain map being done that I could begin. On the first day, I could tell an immediate difference. It was as if the constant chatter and white noise in my brain had been shut off. I was a bit astonished to stand there and not have a million things running through my head at one time. I drove into town to visit with a family member in case I had a bad reaction, but I did not have any bad reaction. On the way there, I ran into a heavy rainstorm on the highway - the kind where you can’t see anything in front of you at all. Typically with these, I would start panicking immediately and my heart would pound dangerously out of my chest. That did not happen at all. I did not feel moved by one ounce of anxiety and I was able to keep calm without even trying. In town and with my family member, I was able to have a conversation without being distracted. For once in my life, I was not immediately thinking of what they were going to say before it came out of their mouth along with what I was going to say the moment that they finished because everything happened that quickly all of the time in my mind. No. I was able to be calm and take turns having an engaged dialogue in the moment with no brain chatter or chaos. I was able to take what they were saying as it came, meditate on it, and reply back accordingly. I felt motivated and determined, but not hyper or overstimulated. The worry with these drugs is that they will overstimulate people and make them jittery or hyper. Not me. It made me calm, relaxed, and even somewhat sleepy. I felt normal for once in my life. I was able to go into grocery stores without having so much fear and anxiety within me, thinking about every little thing that could go wrong and why. 

Today marks 9 days that I have been on Wellbutrin with great success. Today marks 9 days that I have not thought about ending my life. Today marks 133 days that I have not used nicotine.  Between the help of my new doctor prescribing me this medication and the neuroscientist examining my brain, I can safely say with absolute clarity that my life has been saved. Had things not changed when they did, I can absolutely guarantee that I would not be here writing this right now. I get emotional thinking about that, because just that quickly and at the turn of events, my life changed for the better right when I thought it was all over after so many long years of suffering. All that pain for so long gets you believing that there is no way out. And that truly was my reality until the change happened. Though they won’t read this, I want to thank my new doctor and the neuroscientist. Thank you both for saving my life. 

07/11/2022 -Cleo

Loving people is hard. Letting people go is hard. I have people in my life that I love, but I also despise a lot of things about. I know when a relationship (friends or otherwise) is unhealthy for me, but sometimes it’s just so hard to let go of fully. I think of all the ways it could’ve been, ways it could go, change, evolve, etc. I always believe in second chances, or more, and hope. I believe in hope. But sometimes things keep happening over and over again. Of course I know what that means. It means that it’s time to let that person go. I can’t always just do that. This creates issues though, because I cling on, and there are negative feelings surrounding the relationship. Bad memories come up, mean words spoken... just whatever. And it’s a never ending cycle until one moves on fully. 

I’m hurt. I have two people in my life right now that I know I would be better off from. Two people I’ve known for a long time now that I need to cut out entirely and move on. But I can’t. I feel stuck. 

01/06/2021 -Cleo

Me and my friend are arguing if this android robot is 1) waxing off with this apple logo or 2) wiping its ass with this apple logo. I say 1, friend says 2. Why are we having this discussion right now? LMAO

PS: Apple rules all. Oh, happy new year!

12/31/2021

-Cleo

LOOK AT ALL THESE SEEDS!

I learned about 6 months ago that I CAN in fact plant things from seeds! I started with white sage (for spiritual purposes) and it grew. Then I tried onion, lettuce, dill, and chives in a big family pot. I GOT TOMATO! Yes, tomato. And a little lettuce and a little dill. I didn’t even plant tomato, but low and behold I got a huge pot of tomato. Even if I didn’t plant tomato, I’m happy for them! They taste so good! Anyway, I grew confidence in gardening after that and i wanted more… So for Christmas, I had seeds on my list, and my mom got me seeds. It was very kind of her. Now I need some bigger pots, or planter boxes, soil, and get to work! I’m so excited.

Bringing life to things is so cool.

12/28/2021

-Cleo

EDIT: I removed the picture because I realized I needed to stick to my personal promise and keep my identity out of this. That was the entire purpose of this blog. Still, read on!

I told myself I wouldn’t show my face on this blog; it was meant to be a journal without any identity. However, today is a day to celebrate. Today I show my face on my journal because I had a profound moment. Profound enough to call for celebration, and even better, to stamp my face on my journal. Today I did my hair. < Okay, that sounds so basic to anyone who would read that. You don’t understand! I DID HAIR! Listen. I’ve been going through this endless black pit of despair (depression) for a long time now. Seemingly, somehow, after I went to the ER a week ago (that’s for another blog entry to explain), things have been changing for me. Slowly, little by little. This has been the most eye opening experience with the ER trip; both before and after events. Anyhow, back to my hair. God bless it. I have long naturally curly hair that used to get the best treatment. Used to. Every day I took care of my hair like it were my child. I kept my hair washed good, brushed it, and put all kinds of moisturizing and shaping products in it to make my curls look heavenly. Before I accepted my natural curls, I still took care of my hair, but I straightened it every day. Every. Single. Day. Keeping my hair looking nice made me feel good, whole, and content. For a long time it’s what I used to express myself. I dyed my hair all kinds of fun colors, and then dyed it too much, burnt it, and shaved it. Oh, hair has such a fun and exciting past with me. Until recently. Until the last… year. The depression got so bad that I stopped washing it so much, stopped brushing it, stopped caring for it. Most every day it’s been a “grab a hair tie, up in a bun it goes!” type of day. For too long. Now, the ends of my hair are frayed straw and the knots are far too embedded to brush out after I wash and soak in conditioner. AND use a detangling brush. I’ve let myself go. A lot. I lost sight of myself. But today… today I said fuck it! I’m doing my hair, no matter how badly it needs cut! I did my hair routine like I would in the past. I gave it a good soak, brushed it out thoroughly, and shaped it with product. I got my curls smiling back at me. My hair was not in some bun in the back of my head, making my face look fat as a donut when I see myself in the mirror. I looked in the mirror after doing my hair and saw a glimpse of Cleo. A sight of me. A speck of who I remember. I smiled. I cried. I couldn’t stop crying. Just by doing my hair (not even anything else!) I saw her again. And it made my heart warm and whole. It made me remember that I have to take care of myself. One little thing in my daily routine can make a world’s worth of difference. It’s so easy to forget about ourselves when we’re depressed, anxious, or suffering any kind of mental health problem. I have been for a longgggg time. But I said fuck it and gave myself a little extra umph today, and look at me. It was MOVING. I had enough confidence and proudness in myself to go out on the town and shop for ME by myself for the first time in YEARS! I’m so happy! I did it! So, there’s my small yet huge achievement. There’s my face shortly after seeing myself in the mirror. Now I’m waiting for my hair stylist to call me back so I can get those dead ends chopped off. So that I can keep the momentum going. So that I can find Cleo all together once more. I love her. She’s beautiful.

12/26/2021

-Cleo

Some days...

Some days I can’t eat. Some days I can’t sleep. Some days I eat too much. Some days I sleep too much. Some days I need sound to feel at home, and some days I need no sound at all because my ears are too sensitive. Some days I need lots of people to talk to, some days I need the presence of no one. Some days I bathe and scrub until my skin wants to fall off, some days I don’t bathe at all. Some days I write half a novel, some days I forget how to use words. Sometimes dishes pile up in the sink, other times I wish some would appear that I could wash. Every day is a challenge, but some days are better than others. I’m thankful for the good days when I’m more balanced. When things feel better. I’m healing, I’m growing, I’m trying. I’m here. 12/5/2021 -Cleo Just thoughts...

Memo: I Can Feel Again

For months, a dark depression has kept me down. Every day feels like it has been witnessed in black and white. Despite the hot summer days, they have been cold inwardly. Things lost taste, smell, and all other senses. It was a void. No one to run to, no one to talk to. No one to smile with or enjoy the little things in life. No one to inspire and no one to inspire me in return. I would pinch myself, or worse, to see if I could still feel. Really, even then, I was feeling nothing at all. Physically or emotionally. Songs didn’t bring me joy. A good television show couldn’t make me laugh. For months this has been ongoing. I contemplated my life several, several times. I stared at pills, bottles, and worse. I was ready. With no hope left, I asked God... “If I’m meant to stay here and live out my life, give me one good reason.” The next day, I was out and about, though I won’t mention why or what for because it would give it away fully and I’m not ready for that just yet. But on this day of being out and about, I saw someone. I saw someone for the first time that I had never seen in my life before. When I saw this person, my heart literally jump started. It jolted in my chest with a shock of electricity as if I were being defibbed. “CLEAR!” zzzzztttt... It felt like I had known this person before, somewhere else. I connected to them, though they were a stranger, and I had no idea how I felt the way I did. It was actually a bit embarrassing. How could I feel that way for someone that I didn’t know? Have never met? It didn’t matter. I watched them, bashfully, and tried to keep my heart steady. It felt as though I was standing on the top of a mountain with no footing underneath. I felt my lips curl into a smile and warmth cover me. I was...feeling.  This person captured me. To them, I’m just a stranger and nothing more. They probably thought nothing of me. However, this feeling was intense enough that I decided to reach out to this person with a note. Today, I wait, to see if they will contact me. Freedom, gravity, and the universe is a beautiful thing - and I will let the decision be flawlessly chosen - whatever it may be. If the Universe wants it, then it shall happen. If not, that’s okay too.  The point is that I felt. I felt again. Ever since that feeling, I have been a new person. God gave me a splash of color to my life; hope. I felt a door open. I was aware of my heart, my smile, and my body again. I was aware of touch, emotion, and happiness. Suddenly I’m happier. Suddenly I’m giddy. Suddenly I want to eat, drink, and take care of things in my life. All because of one moment that I will never forget.  Thank you, God, for reminding me that I can still feel and that there are plenty of amazing things to look forward to in life. Even if it’s received in small doses and dashing moments. It’s worth it.  11/16/2021 -Cleo