Have been asleep and disconnected, for the majority of Life since Monday...forty plus hours. This Meniere's Disease is so damned stupid...
...My body, muscles, joints and knuckles feel pained and ache as if I have just been beaten up good and proper...as in an old fashioned ass-whooping that I deserve...Karma?
Woke up this afternoon by the recorded voice of a politician who made an ass of himself on The CNN...must have been something that turned me all sideways, because it was then that I decided to get up from that mattress, even if but for a few minutes...say greetings to them reading these words. Have grown weary of the Cyber-Socials...I suspect a change approaches. But then, I don't know how much longer or lesser a duration... these cyber-social places have helped me keep in touch with folks. I hate this separation! This exile! Wait, how about the medications?...pills, capsules, tabs and chemicals....my memory serves me far too well...even with the scars of these thousands of pills and medications.
...My Path has had similar forks come my way before. So many...whether it was to be as it was to be or not...I kept on walking. I had to.
As a wee little boy being taught how to do things unrelated to being a wee little shit, being taken to baseball practice and baseball games by a man who made me do things unrelated to baseball for years. He lived two doors down from us...as a 9 year old, being approached from behind by a cigar smoking old son-of-a-bitch, at the Casino in Ybor City. The rape and sexual abuse from childhood stopped in 1978. It had to. My memories still serve me just too damn well...
...back in the 1980s when I was diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa and at the time, being the only male on record with this disorder, in all of Miami. The therapies, the pills, and such...then the Bulimia, in the late 80s and early 90s to help ease my way back. Oh, it was so damn painful and dreadful to see myself gain back so much weight so fast...
Then the years of self abuse...putting myself in harm's way in so many different ways, sex, herbs, and hashish while in Germany, some rock and roll - not much though, and subjecting myself to punishments that I thought fitting...for someone like me.
...All of this preceded the coming out of the sexual abuse I mentioned earlier... which brought along with it the memories, therapy and groups...a whole new set of them medications, pills, syrups and such...yes, damnit, my memory serves me far to fucking well...
A little self-observation please; I have noticed that my ego and I visit very bleak and dark places post-vertigo attack. My Dear Lord.
...have slept approximately forty hours since Monday...I must return.
Whatever has been written, has been written. I am sorry for being here. I am sorry for going there...I just wonder how much stronger can I be? I am so sorry because I must say, I wish you a blessed and peaceful day...knowing I'm about to eat some pills and go back to sleep.
It's just me and my Psyche Manifest Psychosis, Ole, Mario.
p.s There is not an instruction book that accompanies me on my Path. I walk forward with my face upright. Forks and roundabouts are part of my journey here on Earth Mother. I know I have fought many battles and many a war from within, it is as a piece of thread to connect a piece of fabric to another...my life before my eye orbs and my right-good-bad-ear reminds me I am a Survivor and a Warrior. So, I move on. Please, you all don't fret none. It's just me and my memories.
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