i saw her this past week, so over medicated she couldn't walk straight. literally. it was so bad i ran into after the fry's had called the paramedics because it was so bad. their was no way that could be considered ethical, but she is far from the only person that has happened to.
It happened to me. A long time ago. Seeing her like that shook me in a way i cannot explain. not only because it hurt to see her like that and i wish i could do something for her but she couldn't even tell me how or what to do it was so bad or even give me a number to call to check on her or an address. nothing. i remember a time she was not like that. a time she was relatively normal. I hate whoever did that to her. a beautiful and kind woman so over medicated she can't even walk straight or string a sentence together that makes sense. i mean... its bad. she can hardly even basically communicate. barely understand. i remember, she used to be intelligent. if they ever help her, if anybody ever gets through to get her help, she has a long road on recovery and i hope our paths cross again. may i be able to hold her hand and help her find her way as she once did for me so long ago.
Speaking of the past. you know, she was with me at a time when i was just in the stages of recovering and adjusting. their are still entire parts of my life i am missing, because this happened to me. growing up. as a child. as a teen. Their is a year i cannot really make too much sense of. at least i can kind of grasp it better than so many before it.
Remembering that past, before someone heard me, before things were fixed. I was so over medicated that i was barely holding onto my own name. I just numbly went along with just about anything i was told to believe.
their is this year though, that i want to remember. i cannot though and i don't know if remembering it will be a good thing.
I was eighteen, went to college and dropped out because i was unable no matter how hard i tried to do college math. i had no help despite that the college promised such upon admission. these things i know from paperwork and snippets of memory. its foggy as best as i can explain it. i know some things. like... i smiled a lot. their were people i would have gone to the ends of the earth for. i remember that. i remember the game Wow, and smiling more than i ever had in my entire life up to that point, i remember crying and the threats of grandmother against those people. crying and wanting to be closer to them but being afraid they would die like my papa. I remember someone with this oddly annoying but endearing nickname for me. "crazy christian girl" which is odd. you know... i know i went along with a lot because i was told to, but... i have never been christian and this is a person i know feels in my memory, close. one of the closest. trying to remember that, i am not sure in my heart if i want to. purhaps remembering will hurt. it often does. its like something on the tip of your tounge. i thought you know, i saw one of those people a while back, a person i kinda sorta have some recollection of. the person felt familiar but... i didn't know, couldn't know. its like that old friend of mine, who barely even recognized me as someone she knew. she didn't even remember my name. accept mine is reversed. that is part of what i had to adjust to. my past, much of it is still missing and much of what i remember doesn't make sense. things from before i was over medicated are clearer than those years, even from when i was a little girl. i mean... even the day my dad died is a crisper memory, clearer, and i was three years old. as an adult those memories are by no means clear accept in snippets. its hard for an adult mind to conceive the perception of such a small child like that, but its harder for the sane mind to understand and comprehend the memories of someone who was basically repeating what was being said to her by someone else. did i even know what was going on? Part of me wants to remember, the other part feels i know... something will hurt. something i lost maybe? i don't know... i just know their was something in that time i saw as important enough to brave grandmother and it isn't with me. thats about it. a sane mind with the memories of an insane person. that is my life. you have no idea how much trouble i had sorting it all out. finding what was true and what was not. the things about my grandmother were true, i just kept on for the longest time repeating what she said and the only thing i could say for the longest time was "grandmother doesn't love me". my capacity for conscious thought was limited, and it was easy to brainwash or trick, and... i cannot even begin to explain. i don't really remember well, how to even comprehend it to even explain it.
cps... they set that in motion when i was six years old. when mom got us back she stopped it, protected me and my brother, but... when she died cps got involved and said i was to go to my grandparents and not my godmother. my grandmother liked attention, especially from 'raising such a troubled child', oddly she didn't really show me off when i accomplished something. just... she seemed to only enjoy and bask in the attention from me being 'sick'. she made me sick to begin with, and used cps's own lies to cover their goddamned ass when i was little, to make me easier to handle and stop kicking and screaming to go home to mom and my brother... anyway... she used what they did as her opening to make my life hell. i lived in terror every day. it took a long time you know... to sort it out.
I have to live with it, though my aunt sherry has no idea how deeply it cuts when she says "your crazy. that never happened" because it took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that not everything in my past was insanity of my own mind being on the medications that caused it. Much of it was real and it was grandmother. it was lonely too. like i was always so cold. so lonely. like not any amount of blankets could make the cold go away from inside my heart. that is what it felt like to not be loved. people would say "your grandmother loves you" but... i knew she didn't. if she had loved me, that would not have happened. if she had loved me, she would have at least tried for me. she would not have taken so much pleasure in my tears or made so much effort to do the things she did. she would have never used what cps did as her weapon to wield against my life until i signed paperwork at eighteen after some things happened. it was after i tried to kill myself. i think? i think that was after that bit as well. i am not sure... i think so though. i think i went to culinary school before i was a waitress. that is what i had written down anyway.
She was still making my life a living hell at that point. I didn't write much during that time. i must have felt pretty safe wherever i was during that time from the snippets and whatnot. so... i wonder if i will ever find any more clues to those days?
I know what a sane persons memories should look like or be like. i am sane. i also have done my research and learned such. i know... and i would never wish that horror on another.
its just... how do you even express such things?
thats why if i type in my sleep it comes out all weird. i still have memories that my understanding of is very basic.
my aunt... when i tell her i have those physical scars i am telling her the truth. grandmother left physical scars as well as these types of mental scars.
They should have left us with Momo. pronounced mom-o. she was my godmother and mom's best friend and soul sister. it was like they were born to be sisters. i remember that much from when i was a child and mom was alive.
Sometimes i wonder about the days i cannot remember, the days where if i remember something its literally just... something small. like pocky with nuts and chocolate on it, and smiling at someone. feeling a kind of comradere, trust. acceptance. but, i cannot remember who the people were, just if i really try, small things about them, but not them... just that they were some of the most important people in the world to me.
sometimes, i think about those days that i can't really remember. where even when i try really hard, its all just a haze. i didn't choose that. i never did drugs or drank myself into anything, in fact i didn't even drink. its just... someone did that to me, using doctors and medicine to make me sick and doctors didn't stop that person, they helped her. after awhile... nobody even looks or questions. they just follow and keep doing what has been done. the more years passed, the harder it was to make my voice heard. i remember that much... but...
for whatever reason, these people are important in my heart even still. its weird... isn't it? i can't even really remember them. one of them was gay i know, man outside and woman inside. liked something shiny though i dont' remember what it was that he liked that was shiny. its like that.
That is what my memories are filled with, so what i can recall, the people i can recall i had help recalling. its almost like reading someone elses story. my old diary.
a person who could not even remember her own name without help doing so. a person who used to pause to take time to remember even something to integral as that. i wonder sometimes, how i even survived.
This needs to change, how things work, needs to change. this cannot keep happening to people. if it does, more people will be hurting, more people will have things like this, but not all of them get free to even be able to say what happened and how it felt. not everyone gets the chance to recover and heal from such things. not everyone gets free. some people die in a sort of trapped state that others who have never been their cannot even begin to fathom.
Sometimes i wonder if i will ever find a way to express what happened and how dire the need is that such things stop happening and that people do something about it. Not only when its obvious but in general. to speak up and do something, but also the system itself is so corrupt and needs fixing so badly it ends up doing so much more harm. so... who do you even call at that point? knowing the system is just that fucked up? instead of fixing problems, they cover them up so problems fester all the more, and become bigger.
I wrote this poem and posted it to my deviant art page.
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Paper Flowers
Paper flowers have more power than anything,
We have given up all that we were for what we are,
Blood coats the earth,
Flowing by every hearth,
When will the madness kiss be stopped while their are still people left to stop this?
Paper flowers flow from the hands of the liars in all the lands,
We have been taken for all our hearts, for paper flowers of paper flesh
Blood coats the earth,
Flowing by every hearth,
When will the madness kiss be stopped while their are still people left to stop this?
In this land where good must hide in our hearts or tossed aside,
In this land where evil slides, right on ruling while good just dies,
Blood coats the earth,
Flowing by every hearth,
When will the madness kiss be stopped while their are still people left to stop this?
Evil people claim to good, but harmful deeds show where they've stood,
Why must people close their eyes, and let evil people rule their lives?
Blood coats the earth,
Flowing by every hearth,
When will the madness kiss be stopped while their are still people left to stop this?
Paper flowers are the power of those soaked in the cries the have caused with the same hands that bring the paper flowers of our paper dreams so easily burned.
Blood coats the earth,
Flowing by every hearth,
When will the madness kiss be stopped while their are still people left to stop this?
When will paper flowers stop being our madness kiss?
We have given up all that we were for what we are,
Blood coats the earth,
Flowing by every hearth,
When will the madness kiss be stopped while their are still people left to stop this?
Paper flowers flow from the hands of the liars in all the lands,
We have been taken for all our hearts, for paper flowers of paper flesh
Blood coats the earth,
Flowing by every hearth,
When will the madness kiss be stopped while their are still people left to stop this?
In this land where good must hide in our hearts or tossed aside,
In this land where evil slides, right on ruling while good just dies,
Blood coats the earth,
Flowing by every hearth,
When will the madness kiss be stopped while their are still people left to stop this?
Evil people claim to good, but harmful deeds show where they've stood,
Why must people close their eyes, and let evil people rule their lives?
Blood coats the earth,
Flowing by every hearth,
When will the madness kiss be stopped while their are still people left to stop this?
Paper flowers are the power of those soaked in the cries the have caused with the same hands that bring the paper flowers of our paper dreams so easily burned.
Blood coats the earth,
Flowing by every hearth,
When will the madness kiss be stopped while their are still people left to stop this?
When will paper flowers stop being our madness kiss?
------------
I sometimes wonder if anyone will ever figure out what this poem means and what its talking about.
I know what its talking about, and no its not literal. its symbolic and all too true in how this world has been working and how much pain their is and how much actual blood and tears has flown needlessly because of the things that are labeled as help, or right. things that are not right but that are called right. paperwork... rules our lives. in so many ways paper, paperwork or paper money, those things over-rule right and wrong. our Constitution is supposed to be the things that are non negotiable, no acceptions to those. but people have made acceptions for their own benefit. that is why this world is the way it is and so many people just let it happen.
i always wondered why nobody would make a move to make things better, to change things. at this point, our country is more like a snake eating its own tail. in far too many ways. at some point their is no more tail to consume. at some point the destruction cannot be reversed.
Its a bit weird sometimes, to have clear memories of a sane person and so many years as if i was someone else completely and am simply reading a book and feeling the things that person felt even if sometimes i may or may not know truly why. I mean, can you really know truly why without remembering all the reasons and experiences? I have sane memories and insane memories. Its the insane memories i know are important to express. people need to know what happens, be aware. because when horrible things happen, they think "oh its just this once" "its just an isolated case"... but its not. its like a cock roach. where their is one, their are hundreds if not thousands more just like it.
Its a bit weird sometimes, to have clear memories of a sane person and so many years as if i was someone else completely and am simply reading a book and feeling the things that person felt even if sometimes i may or may not know truly why. I mean, can you really know truly why without remembering all the reasons and experiences? I have sane memories and insane memories. Its the insane memories i know are important to express. people need to know what happens, be aware. because when horrible things happen, they think "oh its just this once" "its just an isolated case"... but its not. its like a cock roach. where their is one, their are hundreds if not thousands more just like it.
-Luna
