Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Thursday, September 15, 2016

Alright

Quite a ride.
Hello again. 

Saturday, June 04, 2016

Yo

Well, it's been a while. Or years.  Or whatever. Eh.  It was a crazy fuckfest just trying to see if this blog still existed.  Then there was logging in.  Ha!
The last time I remember, I made this blog private, so I'm pretty sure I'm talking to myself.
Hi self.
I've been through some shit.
I've been through child abuse.  Check.
Last week I had to assure my adult daughter, that her grandfather wasn't her biological father.  Good fun right there.  Check.
I've been through etc., etc..
I've been through divorce. Check.
I could expound.
But I think my point is made.
I will soon "celebrate" my 42nd birthday.
The worst shit to date:
This seperation of my siblings.
We had an unspoken pact.
Obviously, our parents were FUCKED UP.
So we relied on each other.
We were tight.  
I survived because of them.
As a cold and then as an adult child....They were my ROCK.
I could handle *allthisbullshit* because of them.
And  it's gone.
And it's the hardest shit I've been through*
*See above.
I don't know why?
Is it an age thing?
Regardless, I'm quicksanding.
I've always had horrific anxiety.
But this version, is deadly.
And the rocks are gone.

Sunday, July 06, 2014

Hi

My name is Keri.
I used to push letters on keyboards and publish them here.
I didn't for awhile.
Now I am again.
I considered starting a new blog, because all of the icky.
But this is my herstory.
And when the hike is THAT hard, you learn to appreciate the trail as much as the summit.
No other way to get there.
Even in Washington and Colorado.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

Hate with rage and blame...lotsa blame...

More counseling.
When is it ok FOR ME to give up.  Statement.  Not a question. No answer anyway.

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Sunday, October 30, 2011

Scared Strong

Also Scared Shitless.
My last day of work is Nov 1st. 
10 years to the day when I started.
I'm moving across the state.
With no job.
No help.
Sole provider.
Failure isn't an option, but still a possibility.
WooHoo!

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Friday, October 28, 2011

Really? Now?

I've spent the last year...I know there is a better word, adjective or phrase, but all I can summon ??? right now is: STRUGGLING/SURVIVING.
Now you contact me?
NOW?
REALLY?
Because your girlfriend kicked you out?
And you contact me in a way of some sort of position of power, like you are doing me a favor by contacting me?
Like you are some sort of prize?
Or someone who still has some influence over me?
It might have worked, because I still don't have much of a self esteem...
BUT!
Regardless of my flaws, weaknesses and naivety, I have ALWAYS been an awesome mother.
If it were just me, and not my children, I maybe could forgive.
In all honesty, you almost destroyed me.
If I didn't have my children to live for, who need me, who have NO OTHER parent, I would have eaten a bullet.  Actually, pills are what I planned.
I might have bought it. 
I actually want to.
I want the dream back.
It will be a year since, I kicked your cheating ass out of MY HOME, soon.
This "home" that is now getting foreclosed on.
I dispose of you.
I have myself back.
You didn't deserve me then, and you ABSOLUTELY don't deserve what I've become.
But thanks for the lesson.
Also, since you're so awesome, and never paid to support you OWN children, the state is after  you.
KISSES.



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Sunday, September 11, 2011

Blackhole

I'm in a dark downward spiral. 
But, because I'm me, I don't let people close enough...to ever even know. 
Let alone help.
I don't *feel* suicidal.
I just feel like death is a plausible solution to the problems. 
Its an answer to non-existent solutions.
I think the thing that should really scare me, is that it doesn't scare me.

It's pretty black and white to me.
The mountain is bigger than my available resources.

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Sunday, September 04, 2011

Know

I forgive myself.
In ways no one will ever know/NO!
LIFE is cancer.

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Friday, July 08, 2011

!

I HAVE THINGS TO SAY

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Sunday, June 19, 2011

How to not be angry and bitter FAIL

"A sadly forgotten fact among today’s generation of women is that they survive only on the good humor of men, who, whether in the guise of husbands, fathers, taxpayers or police, have always been and will likely always be the only thing standing between women and a swift and brutal death. The fundamental contract between the sexes is based on women making themselves worth the trouble by giving men something in return for this favor."

Courtesy of Twisty: http://blog.iblamethepatriarchy.com/

P.S. I'll be done with the depressed and RAGE soonish-ish.  Or not.  Maybe.  Monday.

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Saturday, June 18, 2011

Perfect

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Que Sera Sera

Thursday, June 09, 2011

36

Dear Pathetic Weak Guilty Coward,


I eventually hope to be able to co-parent with you in a positive way. 
Not for you or me, but for MY children. 
Right now, I would like you to kill yourself so at least the boys would get social security and not have to deal with your fucked up, broken, roller coaster ride anymore.  Be able to actually grieve, and heal.  Not have the wound opened up every freaking morning, when they wake up, and realize it wasn't a nightmare. 
Could you do that please?
Yeah, I didn't think so. Cowards don't do that.


So for now: I GET to be angry.  I GET to hate your fucking guts for awhile.  I get to call you names and swear at you. 
I SO get to.
You SO deserve it.
I deserve it.


I'm just now past the shock, disbelief and pain, and am on the ANGRY. 
And sometimes RAGE.  
If you pop into my brain, (it takes a while to shed 15 years)  I only see myself pummeling your head (I honestly can't remember what your face looks like)  with a baseball bat to a bloody twitching pulp.  I keep one at the front door in case the opportunity arises. 

But, guilty cowards don't knock on doors, cowards hide in cars and text their children to come out.
Guilty Pathetic Cowards, don't pay child support, and continue to LIE and lie and LIE and lie and blame other people for their problems.


I can already see the indifference coming, and I'm looking forward to it.
I understand? why you did what you did.  Because you are weak and pathetic.
But blaming me?  For being sexually abused as a child, as a way to make yourself feel better about being the PATHETIC CHEATING LIAR you are, is not OK.
Saying that you want to drag me through court and reveal all of my dirty family secrets?
NOT OK.
But good.  Because it's made it so much easier to see what you really are...and what you n.e.v.e.r. were.
I'm going to ride with this HATE and RAGE for awhile, because it's part of the process, you deserve it, and I am not a victim, NOT yours or anyone else's. 
And honestly, it feels good and better than the pain and betrayal.


No one gets to break me.
Except myself, and I *like* myself for the first time in 36 years.









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Tuesday, June 07, 2011

Cure

"I've never been lonely. I've been in a room -- I've felt suicidal. I've been depressed. I've felt awful -- awful beyond all -- but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me...or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I've never been bothered with because I've always had this terrible itch for solitude. It's being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I'll quote Ibsen, "The strongest men are the most alone." I've never thought, "Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I'll feel good." No, that won't help. You know the typical crowd, "Wow, it's Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?" Well, yeah. Because there's nothing out there. It's stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I've never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn't want to hide in factories. That's all. Sorry for all the millions, but I've never been lonely. I like myself. I'm the best form of entertainment I have. Let's drink more wine!"



-Charles Bukowski -






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Sunday, June 05, 2011

Word Count

I'm afraid.


That all of the keys I press, that turn into words, that form this thing that I do here?
This thing that I've pressed keys into for years now.
Ends up being, just, a lengthy, tedious suicide note.

The best and worst part is, that no one would blame me.

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