How To Get Out of My Carefully Constructed Cage

I'm back...who knows for how long. This time I'm posting because I'm in a...well for lack of a better stereotype and word...emo mood. I've thought about a lot within the last few months and I've never let it out. It's like it's all on repeat in my read, like thoughts embedded within my mind that I can't erase no matter how many times I try to act like I'm okay. It's so sad that I can act like a happy girl around my family and be so incredibly good at it, that it completely surpasses my whole families radar. Especially my mom's since she knows me so well.

I feel like Alice in Wonderland. Except I'm Amber in EverLost-Land. I feel like I fell into this big, black hole expect it's all in my mind and I can't escape by defeating the Red Queen of Hearts. I don't think I've ever used a Disney analogy before. I could definitely make a Peter Pan analogy but it would be a dark, dismal, sad one and I like Peter Pan too much to do that right now.

Lost. That's such a word to describe my state of mind right now. Mess, too. I'm a lost mess. I used to love school, loved to learn and in a way I still do. I'm taking community college classes online full-time right now. And I hate it. I like the prospect of learning what I'm taking, but I'd rather just read the textbooks then take the class. And I always loved my grade school/high school teachers. I'm taking Criminology, Into to Global Security and Information, Computer and Security. They are all eight weeks long and then I start Forensic Science. All these classes are what I've looked forward to since I was 13 and decided to give up on my dream of becoming an actress and go with the reality of becoming a Special Agent in the FBI and working my way into the Behavioral Science Unit.

I love analyzing people and picking apart the way their minds work and why they do what they do, say what the say, think what they think. I gained that interest and love from watching movies and television. When I first saw Pirates of the Caribbean I was enraptured with the way the actors and actresses could make me smile, laugh and cry; how they could make me feel happy, sad, betrayed, scared, confused, excited and adventurous. I wanted to be able to do that for people too. I wanted to be able to give people an outlet from reality and fall in love with another world of fantastical, motivating, wonderful plots and stories. I still do...and I don't know what to do with the struggle of dreaming to be an actress and writer and learning to be in law enforcement. Both careers are all about human behavior, but instead of portraying it like I dream to, I have to settle for perusing certain (criminal) behaviors.

When you live in a little town in Arizona (a place of no opportunities) it's nearly impossible to become anything other than what I am now...A gas station clerk..no no, an injured gas station clerk, that's just going to a community college that are a dime a dozen. I'd love to live in California or Florida where I could get out of the small town life. I don't have natural motivation and I'm so reserved that it's difficult to get out of the carefully constructed cage I've tricked myself into.

Like I said...I'm a lost mess and I don't know how to dig myself out. I hate the self-pitying and self-destructive and self-hatred I've locked myself into. If only, I just knew how to start unlocking myself from it all.

The New Me Is Calling

I found myself on the side of the road
Wondering what I was doing
I've been gone for so, so long
And now I can't even look back

I find myself out of place
Gotta get back into my space
Don't want to hide no more
Don't want to be lost anymore

So here I am
Working my way up
Changing into who I want to be
I won't complain or waste my days
The new me is calling

My shadow followed me around
Working it's way back in
But I pushed it out of my way
I am stronger than my past any day

They all stared and whispered at me
They all tried to put me down
All they say is that I'll always be the same
Doubtful, lost and sorry

So here I am

Working my way up 

Changing into who I want to be

I won't complain or waste my days

The new me is calling

You'll see, oh you'll see

I am me, I am me

I'm changing into who I was meant to be

I'll change my ways

I'll stay strong

Work my way into self-love

I'm positive, deliberate and determined 

So here I am

Working my way up 

Changing into who I want to be

I won't complain or waste my days

The new me is calling

I am me, oh yeah, I am me.

You won't stop me

I won't doubt me

You'll be sorry

I am me.

Okay, so I don't normally post anything like this. I don't know what to call it, song or poem, though I do kinda have a beat to it. I just wrote it because I'm on a path to discovering myself and what I'm capable of. I want to change the bad parts that are inside me and improve myself. Thus, this inspired...So, any thoughts? 

The Ghost In My Past That Changed Me

 

I'm scared.

My heart is pounding. It's pounding so hard, so fast.

It's not because of anger, happiness, love. It's made of fear and relief. An odd combination, is it not?

I've only felt this three other times, over the same thing. And once more after that. And this time I'm not sure to be relieved altogether, or scared out of my mind. I'm not scared for myself. It's a fear for my Mother and little brother.

I found out a secret that changed a part of myself 7 years ago. I found out that the man I called my father was not my biological father at all. My mother told me about my Dad, Charles Ellis. And I immediately tried to find him...That' another story for another time though.

When I was 13 the man my Mother was married do did something to me that still haunts me. That still brings fear into my heart every time I see him, hear him, think of him.

Almost 5 years ago, my stepfather sexually abused me.

I was almost 14 the first time it happened. I'd gone to bed, but couldn't sleep. He came into my bedroom, called out my name to see if I was awake. I was but I didn't answer. Ealier that night he had snuck up behind me and scared me. I wanted to do the same.

I thought he was going to walk out of my room after he called my name out. I was planing to get out slowly and silently wand walk into the living room where he usually was at my bedtime in he's recliner, watching TV. The recliner always was behind my room, so I knew he wouldn't see me. I planned it so perfectly to scare the hell out of him.

This, did not happen.

He closed my door and I thought he had gone out, until I felt him sit down on my bed. SO I decided to stay quite and wait till he went out so I could get back to my plan.

But he started rubbing my legs from under my sweat pants. And it felt so good, I had restless leg syndrome. I stayed quite, and was almost asleep when I felt him go higher up my legs, and I was confused.

He touched me then. Where no man should tough, unless with permission. I definitely did not give him, nor ever would I have given him, permission. I was scared. I didn't make a sound, I could barely breath. I couldn't move, couldn't scream. I was frozen, in time, in body, in heart, in mind.

He used his fingers to take my virginity. He left soon after. He didn't rape me, just sexually abused me with his fingers.

I didn't even cry. I don't even remember when I feel asleep. I just remember waking up, going to the bathroom only to see blood where I didn't expect it to be. Then I remembered last night. I was just glad that he was already at work that morning.

I didn't tell anyone, Not even my mom. I was too scared that he was hurt my mom and brother.

A few weeks later, he did it again. Except he also used a muscle massager or something. Again, I didn't cry.

A few days after that my English class watched a movie "Speak." Kristian Stewart played in it. The next day told my best friend, she said tell someone. I went to my English teacher cause she was so kind and I was comfortable with her. I told her I had a dream of him hurting me, I told her I wanted and needed to speak with my mom. The teacher called her for me and I told her in the car while my teacher went to the principle and she called CPS.

I told my mom it was just a dream but that I was scared. She told my step dad to come home once I told her the truth. He denied it. Over and over.

CPS called us. The want to interview my mom, him and I. I saw what the strain was doing to my mom, and even my brother saw it though he didn't know. I knew that my mom would struggle if he went to jail, she didn't have a job at the time.

I told my mom I wanted to lie to CPS and leave this all be. SO we all did. We came up with a story, though I can't remember. We tried to tell the CPS lady that it was a basic misunderstanding. It worked.

I continued at school. But I had changed almost everyone saw it. I was once happy and outgoing and kind and brace and I easily spoke about my feelings. I'm not that person anymore.

He didn't do it again. My mom decided to separate from him. My mom and I moved away to another town so that we could still see my brother, since he wanted to stay with his dad, my step dad. My brother didn't know what happened and didn't want to leave his friends.

On the day that my mom and I left, my step dad did it again when my mom and brother were at storage getting some things out of there, we had just sold the house and put our stuff in a storage.

I had been assured and confident he wouldn't again since the last time was in May, and it was August 6th. I thought that the time frame meant he realized what he did wrong and wouldn't do it again. I was so wrong. He did it again, the same way. He stopped when he heard the door open.

I told my mom and she hurried us out.

I still see him because of my brother. Fear strikes me every single time I see him, think of him and hear him.

The reason I write this is because I hope it lifts some weight off my shoulder and mind.

My mom told me today that she told my soon to be ex step dad that I can't stand him, that I can't stand being near him cause he molested me, to not contact me, and that I only stand being around him for my brother's sake.

I'm scared cause I don't know how he reacted, if he'll react badly or if he reacts so badly that he hurts someone.

What happened to me is definitely not as bad as what happens to other girls and woman, I know this. But it still hurts and haunts me. And has changed me.

I'm okay with what has changed because while I am not happy or outgoing, I am cautious and analytical and no longer naive.

I don't trust people easily, my family and best friends are the ones I only trust. It now as to be earned. Not just given.

There's more around my past but this is the basics.

Words of Mystery

"Bits of lightening shocking my heart. Funny feelings swirling abroad. Thoughts rambled, jumbled up. Eyes never tearing at these horrid thoughts."

I find no reasons for these particular words. Words come, words go. But writing them down means they are alive forever. I've written two posts before that sing out what I feel. "Absolute Truth: The Lie Within Myself," and "I've Found You....I've Lost You." The first about who I am and what I feel towards myself, the second a poem, hopefully soon a song, about how I feel about my father's death.

Two subjects of which I'd thought I'd never write down. Because like I said, once the words are written, they are alive forever. I didn't want them to live and didn't want people to know. I didn't want people to know that I'm on my way to despising myself in certain areas. I didn't want people to know how angry I am about my father dieing. And yet, I've written it down.

To me, writing your thoughts down, make them final. Make them real. Alive. But thoughts can change too. So can writing them. I've gained friends, all of whom I cherish. And one thing many tell me- I've gained courage.

It's a thought that glows and wonders. Glows with pride, wonders of its accuracy. It's a thought I hope is true.

I hadn't known what I would be writing about until those words filled my head that begged to be let out their cage. I can contemplate what they mean. As can anyone who reads them. These words that just pop into my mind without a care, like magic, aren't really rare. They just are, they're just there.

As I ponder what meaning those words have to me, I ponder if anyone will contemplate it too, or even cares. "For I know I have many relatives, friends, and acquaintances; the loneliness still lingers heavily in my mind and heart. For I know that people care; I know not of the completion of heart." Another set of words that have haunted me till now. Words I think of, words I hear, words I know. Words i know are illogical but still...alive.

The thoughts of this mind are always running, like an overtime and overrun engine. The woes of the heart sometimes thought of, sometimes forgotten. The mystery of the words are sometimes known, others...only and just a mystery.

2 Minutes

September 28, 2009


In my last blog post I wrote a few things about a few subjects, now I am to write a few things about myself. It’s hard for me, no doubt. I’ve a hard time telling people about me. I’m not sure why. I hate to talk on the phone. I’d rather talk in person, even though I’m not good at that either. I can be, but that’s not as often as I’d like. My mom and I share 1500 minutes, this month I used 2 minutes.



I like technology. It’s complex and interesting and exciting. I can not claim to know everything about cell phones, computers, machines and Internet browsers, but I know that basics so far, I hope to learn more. I remember when I bought my first phone, it was a crappy pre-paid phone but it looked so cool and I loved figuring it out. It even had a flashlight. But I like figuring out what you can do and find with cell phones.



Now, computers are harder and defiantly more complex, as I’m sure many people know, but I still toy with my laptop and desktop to this day. I’ve had the same laptop for about 6 or 7 years now. I’ve had the same desktop for almost 4 years, which I got for free! I’ll tell how and why I got it free later. But I am the only one who uses both computers. My mom is horrible with technology, I have to help her when she gets a new cell phone, but she gets the hang of it.



Mythology is a great love of mine. I love learning about myths. I hope to learn more myths from different countries. I mostly know Greek myths and such. Athena and Artimis are my favorite Goddesses and Apollo and Poseidon are my favorite Gods. I could go on and on about Greek Mythology but I am not going to just now. Maybe I’ll dedicate a whole blog post to that subject sometime.



Video games are not my thing. I know people who can play for hours at a time. My own brothers probably play 2-4 hours at a time or at least in one day. I think it’s insane. I played one computer game called Age of Mythology, and I liked it as something to do when I was bored but I’m just not too crazy about it. Though I do like The Da Vinci Code game my brother has for PS2 and a car game he has for PSP, but I like that game just because I can crash into the cops and then evade them and get money for it.



I have two best friends that I know I will always be friends with and always be close to. Though I still don’t tell them everything. I don’t really have the chance to anyway since they live in a different town than I do. Anyway their names are Auddy and Dyno. Well it’s their nicknames. I’m not going to put their real names on here because I don’t have their permission to. Actually, they don’t even know I’m writing a blog.



So that’s a few things. I don’t want to run on and on. I know short post. Deal.

Here I Am

September 24, 2009

It's funny how I never thought I'd have myself a blog and yet...here I am. Maybe I never thought I'd have one because I wouldn't know what to write or because people would think I was boring or unintelligent or some other terrifying thing that I wouldn't like. But now I realize I'm not writing a blog for other people- I'm writing it for me. And if other people read it and follow or don't follow it- then so be it. If people read it and like it think I'm interesting- woohoo! And it people read it and think I'm an idiot- Get back to your own life. This is mine.

I wondered if I could write a blog, listing my thoughts and actions and daily events, letting people be free to read what my life entails. I think I can. Besides even if people do or don't read this new hobby of mine I can always go back in a year or more and see what the hell I was thinking about. We can't always remember our every thought or movement and such.

I don't think I'll update everyday. Or maybe even every other day or every two days. Maybe an update per week. Or two updates per week or three. Who the heck knows right? I don't. Maybe I'll start to fancy writing everyday. I do love to write. It soothes me at times, frustrates me at others, pisses me off to high hell when it's not going how I want it to but most of all I feel like I'm doing something right, something good and something enjoyable to me. I love it. I love the many feelings as I write, I love the twists of it, how you can make letters and sentences and paragraphs completely your own. I'm not the best writer I know but...You make writing your own. Maybe that's why I like it. Because when I write- It's mine. It's me. No one else's.

Writing. Acting. Music. Art. Film. I love all those things. I fancy myself a good writer so far- for 17 years of age and since I wrote about writing in the above paragraph I don't imagine I should here as well. Acting, well I guess I can be okay at that, I've never really been in a play, though I have done some scenes and was supposed to be in a play called Blythe Spirit as Madame Arcati, whom I picked the part of, since it was just a class play and not a school one. But we never got to rehearse much or anything because some of the students didn't want to do it and didn't feel like doing their lines and didn't think it was fun anymore and that it was boring. It really pissed me off and bummed me out that they dropped the class and that we couldn't do the play after all. I've done some monologues and in the 6th through 8th grade we had these magazines that had little plays in them, but we'd stay in our seats and just read them, but I hated it so I used my voice to act out my part of Ella from Ella Enchanted in 6th grade, of Violet in Series of Unfortunate Events in the 7th grade and Elizabeth Bennett from Pride and Prejudice in the 8th grade. Loads of fun for me. But that's all the experience of acting for me.

Now granted I don't have the loveliest voice or have any musical instruments talents, but music I do love. Rock, Pop, Worldly, New Age, Orchestra, Classical, Jazz (Without lyrics though). And though I do like some Rap, Blues, Hip-Hop, and even rarely Country music, I don't follow those musical genres as much as I do the many others that I listed. But I do love music. Music that makes you want to get up and dance, Like Michael Jackson's music, may he rest in peace and people leave him and his family be. Music that makes you want to sit down a read a good book as you dimly hear the sweet music in the background, like Mozart or New Age music. Music that makes you want to sing along, like too many different artists that make you want to sing. Music that makes you wish you could play an instrument so that you could makes the same kind of music that as interesting affects on people, like Jazz and Blues. Music is an amazing and delightful pleasure that I will never tire of.

Now being the horrible artist that I am I can't claim to paint or draw and sculpt or anything and I won't pretend that I know professional artist names or pieces or even procedures, but I do appreciate it and love to examine and look at many forms of art. Though I will admit I do know a little Da Vinci and few other artist names. But I love to examine a piece and wonder why the artist made it, what they were thinking, feeling when they did. Had they made thought of someone or something that inspired them? Was it an out of the blue image that popped into their head? How had they felt after they had been done with that single piece of creation? So many questions, not many answers. But that's what life is sometimes life so the phrase "Art often imitates life," is used quite well in that aspect.

Watching films will always be something I'll do because I love everything about them. The making of it, the acting, the costumes, the machines used, the make-up, the people involved. I like criticizing and thinking about them. I like dreaming about them and thinking about what I would do differently if I'd been in the shoes of one of the characters. Everything. They fascinate me and some even make me go into awe. When I'm in a blue fog I'll watch a movie that makes me smile and laugh, the most frequent being Pirates of the Caribbean. When I'm in a red haze of anger I like to watch a movie that makes me forget the bad or stupid and makes me smile dreamily, like Pride and Prejudice. When I'm in a green eyed moment I like to watch a movie that will make me realize that life is short and that people have it worse, such as Stepmom or Titanic or something. There's so many wonderful and different, dreamy and satisfying, laughable and heart-warming, intriguing and mysterious things and feelings about movies. I could go on and on. Movies can do that to me.

If you are reading this and wondering- "Well she told us what she likes and why, what else can she have to say?" The answer is- Quite more. And if you are not wondering that and are thinking I'm boring- Then go back to your own life, as I said in the beginning, this is mine. And if you are smiling, then I'm so very glad that I could make a person smile today. Maybe it's not because of who I am but more of because you understand something of what I said on one of the subjects, then I am still very glad that you can smile and advise you to always find or do something that makes you smile.

Life is worth a smile.