Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010


I feel like I'm physically growing around this life I have now.

Becoming my own.  My own parent. To fix myself.

I'm still falling, but now I have parachute skills.

Today was difficult.
I hadn't seen NOG for over a month.
But he remembered me and my story.
Which of course made me uncomfortable.

I think one of the reasons I stopped seeing RCD besides the MORMON speechless ick....was that he was fascinated by me.  I felt like a dead frog being dissected.  I was just his next science project.
I don't want to be interesting in that way.
I just found out that RCD told my husband that I was the worst avoidant he had ever seen.
I don't want to be interesting in THAT way.

So it's back to NOG. 
I'm not weak. 
This is a solution....right?
Weak people don't go out and seek help...right?

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Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Define this:

"The more one talks the less the words mean."

I hear this quote in two ways.

  1. I should have already shut up.  It's so difficult for me to talk anyway.  Pointless.
  2. The more I talk about my lousy stuff, the less power it will have over me. win.
I have an appointment with NOG.  It's been over a month.  The dude that doesn't let me get away with anything.  Meaning he could probably help me if I let him.

I'm scared.

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Saturday, June 19, 2010

Eddie Vedder - Guaranteed


Tomorrow is going to be a day of Softball tournament, Sunshine, loving my family, and the amazing father Dave is to our children.

Nothing else.

Because I get to change my definition of that day, what tomorrow means and IS.
I choose.
It's mine now.
I buy my own gold stars.
I win.

Friday, June 18, 2010


When Tami sister told me she was getting THREE more foster children.
I thought WTF?
She works full time as a director/teacher of a fourth grade Spanish immersion program, and is doing her Masters Program thing at BYU.  Plus all of the Moron responsibilities.  She is a Young Woman's something?
Why would you do that?
No Comprende?
I know how busy I am without those things.
Then they pulled up in their 15 passenger Mormon short bus last week, with NINE children total.  Five of their own, the three I just mentioned and now one more.

(And then she told me that she and her husband just stopped going to the Mormon church.  Are going to a non-denominational Church of Christ.  And that's an entire new year of posts right there.  And I didn't think I could love her more. wowowowowowowowowowoowowow.)

And then I fell in love.  And I got trapped by their three brown little faces and felt so guilty and selfish for ever feeling the way I did.
And then I heard their story.  Which I can't even think about long enough to type it out.  Plus there seems to be some saline in my ocular areas messing with my visual acuity.

Miguel, almost five.
Ricardo, 2.
Nivea celebrated her first birthday here.

Same mother, three different fathers.  She said she doesn't want them back.  She is addicted to Meth and alcohol.  My Sister and BIL are going to adopt them.

Miguel made ten minute rounds.  Play, play, play then check on and touch the face of his two younger siblings.  At four, the tremendous responsibility he feels as the "older" brother.
Cry, Melt, Cry Melt, cry melt, crymelt, crymelt, repeat every ten minutes.

And their self soothing.  They two oldest boys have no concept of seeking an adult for any sort of help.  They don't know how to deal when an adult tries to help.
Only each other.
The two oldest boys also have genital warts in their mouthes.
Just live in that place for a minute.
I hope they don't remember anything. 

And Nivea LOVED me.  And ditto. The way should would snuggle into my chest and sigh made everyone MELT, especially me.  My sister and BIL, the foster parents, were shocked.  She's not a fussy baby, in fact she should cry more, but she isn't a cuddle snuggler either, until ME.  THE AUNT KERI.  The foster parent sibling said it was just because I am brown too.  Good, point.  But I don't care why.  I have some ideas.  But I'll take it whatever way.
And my younger sister who served her mission in Brazil and married a Brazilian and who's daughter, is my amazing niece, I constantly have to say "Noa fallo Portuguese" to.  ...said, a vea in Portuguese means oatmeal.  So I called Nivea, Vea, porridge pants the whole time. How quickly I fell in love with little brown porridge pants critters.

It's just so bare and raw...I want to save them, I want to tell them that they ARE OK.  NONE of us in, The Amazing Sibling Group will ever let them be hurt again.
I want to fix their story RIGHT NOW.

I want them to have happy photographs to hang on their walls.

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I just don't have anything to say.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Each night I'd ask for you to watch me as I sleep

Friday, June 04, 2010


So this whole thing of "NOT GOING BACK", has been nice.
It was like my week was planned around THE AWFUL.  Sunday wasn't Sunday, it was just two days until THE SUCK.
It's been a little freeing.
I got called twice for a re-schedule.  Ignored both.  Deleted the voice mails.
I should at least be honest, answer the phone and say "NOT COMING BACK".


I'm afraid of STAGNANT and not WIN.  I'm afraid that maybe I can't do it on my own?

But labeled before I did the,  "NOT GOING BACK"  I have a label now!  Because I just LOVE labels so muchBarf.  But the label explains so much at the same time as I HATE it.  And the script.  And the product of my environment.  And the lack of CONTROL.
But at least the LABEL gives me something to fight/scream/kick/WIN against.
Are you ready for it?

Because I am not.

Avoidant Personality Disorder.
With Social Phobia.
Generalized Anxiety.
And Panic Disorder.
And the one without a name that I call "Personal Space Issues".  Or, "Don't Push On My Bubble Or I Will Cut You."
And I dissociate daily!
Plus in really FUN times, Agoraphobia!  Woo!

I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do?  Or "IDKWTFIGTD?".

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Wednesday, June 02, 2010

DeathTails Inn the Fab Rick

YouTube is not cooperating tonight. So if you so desire to play with Google...?
Google: Jason Mraz, James Morrison, Details in the fabric.
I'm digging it today.

Calm down
Deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around
And pulling on your threads and
Breaking yourself up

If it's a broken part, replace it
If it’s a broken arm then brace it
If it's a broken heart then face it

And hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
Hold your own

Know your name
And go your own way

And everything will be fine

Hang on
Help is on the way
Stay strong
I'm doing everything

Hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
Hold your own
Know your name
And go your own way

And everything
Everything will be fine

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

Are the things that make you blow
Hell, no reason, go on and scream
If you're shocked it's just the fault
Of faulty manufacturing.

Everything will be fine
Everything in no time at all


Hold your own
Know your name
Go your own way

Hold your own
Know your name
Go your own way.

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?

Are the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Is it Mother Nature's sewing machine?

Are the things that make you blow
Hell no reason go on and scream
If you’re shocked it's just the fault

Of faulty manufacturing

Everything will be fine

Everything in no time at all

Hearts will hold

Tuesday, June 01, 2010


I have a pretty steady baseline. 
I do mellow. 
I do monotone. 
I do Wassupp?!
I do neutral.
I do happy/groovy.
On an as needed basis, I get my bitch out.
I do Mom, Nurse, WifeyPoo etc.

So this...this roller coaster.  SUCKS.  Antiemetic please.
This whole feeling shit and being awake and aware and emotionally alive.  Not numb and not blank.   NOT FUN.  Can I get a refund already?  Barf bag?  Sponge Bob band-aid?  Please?  Bueller?
A good time was NOT had by all.

Today, long day, tough day, still kicking my butt on it's way out.  Used to that.  I wasn't home from 5:45 am to 8:30pm.  It happens.
27 missed phonecalls. 8 voicemails.  I don't even know how many texts.  Emails.
Seriously.  Seriously!  Seriously?  Seriously....
I'm not answering anything until mid-August.  So go fuck yourself.  Twice.  Without lube.  And I hope you get a leg cramp and your batteries run out.

Anyway, I have as many hours right now, (that I will surely pay for when my alarm goes off a 4:45 am for the whole RE-DO) to myself.  Just trying to breathe for a second.  De-frag.  Chill.

And now these seconds are filled with a tremendous, drowning sadness.
It's the achy bone despondent stricken sadness that way skipped over the crying part.
Straight to OUCH...and wanting to stop swimming so hard against the blank and numb.
I couldn't cry if I wanted to. 
But this sadness, is more a Ultra Improved Version! fun new pain game.
Right now.  This second.  As I'm typing.
I feel like I have to force myself to breathe.  If I remember to breathe. 
It's like sticking your toe into a black hole and trying not to get sucked the rest of the way in.
Because how do you ever get out of that? 
You don't.

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