I will cry
Until I will be heard
Oh. You. Yes. You. My so called Friends.
Oh. You. Yes. You.
Oh. How you Shy Away me from me Now.
Does my Voice make you shiver
So that you prefer to not hear it
Does my voice embarrass you
Do you feel shame
Oh how you hide
Who are you hiding from

Are you hiding from
me
No, it is not from me that you hide
But from your self

In me you see the self that you are terrified of showing
the self that you keep stifled
muffled
cornered up inside of you

So, I can walk away from your silence
Free

It is time for sleep and time to do my physical therapy exercises to strengthen my lower back. All this lying on my stomach and typing away on the computer is not any good for my lower back or for my neck.

Been working on my documentary. Getting the hang of final cut pro. I hope that I can get some good footage through skype. It is worth a try. Can't write here about my family, just too personal...

Well, after all this is a public diary. It might be full of pubic hair but it is still public. Decided to buy a black lace shirt on-line. Not feeling particularly sexy or sexual though I do miss those feelings. PN kind-of kills all of that though I still have a pretty vibrant (albeit repressed) libido. American men don't compare to Israeli men in their sex appeal. So much for Israeli men, most of them are on the other side of my universe, a long and penetrating nightmare away, my worst enemy, the airplane keeps me oceans away from where my sex-appeal is buried. Black men are pretty damn hot too. It is the way that they look at me, they remind me that I am still a mighty fine sexual creature. American men just don't have it in their eyes. They might be masturbating to porn all day, they might be just as horny as the rest of them but they just don't hit that mark of sexiness that turns me into a wild-cat. I guess that all the sexy black lace tops that I was looking at have gotten the best of my libido.

Oh yeah, I have a confession to make. There are Israeli men here too and I just might have the hots...but my life ...

Never mind, repression of libido begin now, thank you....so, I also bought sparkly eye-liner, yes i did, three different colors, i went all out on the sparkles. They have not arrived yet but they have shipped and I look forward to those days when I feel good and when I just want to sparkle and think for an evening or for an afternoon that nothing ever changed, that it is just me, the way I was, the way it all was before any of this happened.

The art-club that I got into due to having suffered from severe depression is a good place for me. Most of the people are suffering from pretty severe mental illness. I was worried that I would feel more depressed there but I don't. I appreciate having a place to do my art. I get to work for free, supplies for free...and this is a luxury that I can be grateful for and I am.

If this was my own personal diary I would be writing all about my family now but I just can't. I have been uploading my poetry onto youtube and have been getting some meaningful feedback from friends and from others that suffer from PN. It means a lot to me when a fellow PNer tells me that their hearts were touched and that they feel understood through my poetry. And it means a lot to me when my friends encourage me to continue expressing myself through poetry and theatre arts. After all, I did chose to be a Drama Therapist because all of this was in my blood from birth. The fact that now I have to rely on my strengths this way in order to survive and to create meaning in my life is a good thing. It means that I have these strengths to rely on and for that I am grateful.

The night before last I was up all night due to the electrocutions. Last night aside from nightmares I slept well. And we will see what tonight will bring. It is possible that the 40mg of Cymbalta are running out of steam and that I will have to go up to 60mg. As long as I will continue to be able to sleep I will be thankful. But once the Cymbalta starts tampering with my sleep...

These three tears are for you
Brother,
we have cloaked ourselves and each other in forgiveness
Soon, you will be in my arms again
and I will be there when your tears finally slip out of their harness
and slide into freedom
Brother, we have worked hard for each other
we have admitted our failures, our faults, our weaknesses
We have done all of this so that we could once again embrace each other
the way that we did when we were children
Forgiveness has welcomed us home
How I await your arrival
rest your weary head on my lap
let the tears race out now
i am here
i am here again
i am here with you brother
i am here again brother

with you

thank god

I went dancing and moved my pelvis all around. And I worked on my documentary. A good day. A good day. Thank God for a good day!

Where am I? Where are you, child of light and of compassion?

I am struggling. Rising and falling. Fear settles in and it smells stale and useless. Dreams shrivel away reminding me of everything that I have not done.

My motivation is low.

Being is hard.

The twisted electrocutions grind my spirit to flakes.

There is a deep wailing that none can hear.

Pulsed Radio Frequency Ablation

Is there hope for relief there?

Tired, trudging, falling

Ketamine?

What?

Where?

Where do I turn to for help?

God give me strength for I feel defeated. Scared of this beast that holds me to its tortures, scared of  this beast that has terrorized my faith. Scared of the beast that has taken hold of my Father. I pray for peace and for freedom from pain. I know no such freedom or peace. I know not where to turn. My vision has been stunted and maimed. I fear.

I pray to God/Goddess, where else can I turn if not to you. You have redeemed me, you have breathed the breath of life into my body. Please help me find the way towards healing for I am lost. The maze has trapped me. I am forsaken in darkness, my strength has been taken from me, I am downtrodden, I am forlorn, I am trapped in the darkness of suffering. I call out to you God/Goddess, renew my spirit so that I may take awe in your beauty. Renew my spirit so that I may find that the pathway towards you is paved with light and love and compassion.

I pray, renew my spirit so that I may walk in Your Light, so that I may follow Your Path, so that I may Know and Embody Your Truth and Your Eternal Blessing. Holy Goddess/God, renew my spirit that has waned and died away so that I may walk beside you, embracing the Vision of your Compassion and of your Healing.

Renew my Spirit so that I may know the Joy of Forgiveness and the subsequent Redemption. Clear my eyes so that I may bask in awe at the beauty of your Loving Tenderness. I am lost. I have lost my vision of your way. Please, take my hand and guide me back so that I may know, so that I may return to your Holy Blessing.

Oh, God/Goddess, I cry out to you in my pain and in my agony. I know not where to turn to. My head is towards the ground. I cannot see your Ways though I know that only yesterday I walked them. Oh, God/Goddess, my home, my body has turned against me, it has lashed out at me in fury and in fire and I am small, I am crippled, I am stunted and maimed, deaf and dumb before the assaults and afflictions that are upon me. I know not why this is my lot, I beg to be redeemed for my spirit is in flames and my soul is in constant flight and desperation. I am chained. I am shackled. How can I pray to you, how can I walk in your ways, with this affliction holding me in the bowels of the earth, murdered before you.

I am slain. I am divided. I lay broken before you and you do not hear my cries? I call out to you and you deafen your ear?

I call out to you. My hand is raised. My soul is above my body, I cry out in desperation and in terror. Help me heal myself, dear Lord. Guide my hand so that I may become WHOLE.

 Last night while stubbornly trying to turn the knob to my door I learned that I can pass through doors and walls as though they were not there. I could not understand why the door would not open, maybe so that I would finally have the guts to try another way. So, I tried and I passed through the door as though there was nothing before me but open space. So, so much for doors. Maybe from now on doors are there just as symbols of my fears. They are there to teach me and to encourage me to pass through them harmlessly and effortlessly.
I also learned last night that I am afraid of leaving my body. The fear is very real. I was afraid of not being able to find my way back to my body, of meeting obstacles along the way that would harm me and block me from returning to the physical safety that my body grants me in this physical world. Whether this is a fear that like the door I will learn to pass through I do not know. Maybe initiations into this 'other' world will continue, maybe not. I am not particularly eager to learn this aspect of-  i don't even know what to call it-, though all my life i have had knowledge of it and have wanted to be initiated into it. I am not sure what makes me ready for it now, I only know that it is happening.
What else have I learned. I learned that men are intimidated by women that are more intelligent then them or that are highly knowledgeable of the feminine powers. These powers are not uniquely feminine at all as there are men that are aware of them and using them and through-out history have been what we called "wizards". Still, the majority apparently are afraid of the so called 'female' powers and thus the witch-hunts. In Islam the fear of the female is so profound that the subjugation and oppression of the female is of the order and law of the time.
I learned last night that I am afraid of flying. Maybe a broomstick would make flying feel more secure for me. Though, unlike women in the past,  I have no special attachment to a broomstick, in fact I do not have a broomstick at all. Maybe a carpet would give me the security that I need? I have a little carpet that I bought from a craftsy store a while back in Newtonville. I wonder if that might help. I must admit that it does not look particularly magical but looks are not what matter, right?
So, I am afraid of flying. Last night, instead of flying or floating out of my room, I scaled the walls. I guess something like spider-man only that I did not have webs. What I did discover is that using some-kind of doughy material which wasn't clay or play dough but something similar to them in make-up, helped me stick to the walls. I used this play dough -like material to climb the wall and ceiling of my room. Finally I reached the door and that is when I returned to normal upright position and persisted on trying to turn the door knob. After numerous failed attempts I gave up and decided that I have no choice but to test the waters. Thus I learned that I can pass through doors and I assume walls with no trouble at all. Door-knobs and doors belong to the physical world only.
Regarding the doughy material, I find it funny that I needed to use that but I guess that beginners do need some props from the physical world before they gain the confidence to just let go. I must say that I feel far away from being able to fly into the night to meet my fellow travelers in the trees. I really have no such desire. I would much prefer to have a good night of sleep. Life has and continues to teach me that I am not in control and that I have to follow whatever destiny is mine with love and appreciation for the journey. So, if I find myself sometime soon, sitting (i hope not sitting, that would be painful for me or maybe it would not??) floating or standing on the branch of a tree consorting with other creatures who like me, have by no choice of their own discovered that they possess these very strange though recognized abilities, then I will laugh at the absurdity of all of this. Others might call it a cackle but I know for certain that I am a good witch so the word cackle does not seem appropriate to me. I am thankful that the witch hunts have ended years ago. The idea of being hung by my hair and burnt alive does not thrill me, though compared to PN, how horrible could a torture that ends withing a few hours or a few days be?

Good Luck,
from a newly initiated witch

I am ready. I am ready to embark on a new journey. Maybe, I am thinking to myself, that if I call myself a writer i will eventually believe my own words, and i will write, and isn't it true that a writer is someone who writes.
The only person that I need to convince here is myself. If I say it enough times, I will believe it. Believing it will make it happen. From now on i am a writer.

Having agreed with myself, now I can begin.

I am embarking on a new journey. There is no airplane, no boat, no means of physical transportation. What I am using is only my heart and no one can question the power or force of that.

I understand and can commit to the understanding that there may be times that I will wish that I had chosen differently, there may be times that I wish that I had had better luck in certain areas. I give you the ticket, it is in your hands now, and together we board this passageway. Romance. No, not this time. Seduction, no, not on this ship. How about, some dance, something elusive, yes's and no's and maybe's thrown around like petals on a treasure hunt. No, not for me. I have had enough of these. Then, what? True Love. Don't you think that that just might be a little much for you. To venture out onto such a journey. And injured still.

Yes, this is where I am heading for. Yes, these are the roads that I travel. I have plucked enough dandelions and wished enough dreams for a city of twelve year-old girls.

I am no longer budding. My breasts are full-blown. Pretty balloons of any color that you wish them to be. They are real. I have grown them tenderly with love since a very young age. At night I hold on to them, they are mine.

I won't be journeying alone this time. That is precisely the essence of it all. I am giving up something that I have cherished even when cherishing it meant crying out and praying with tears for something, for someone to fill in the gap of loneliness. I am handing it in, giving it up. And I am doing all of this with a smile. And with some indian food in my gut holding me back.

Surrender. Of course this is about surrender. But, nowadays, surrender is easy, have i not spent years, decades, life-times surrendering my self to pain...

To surrender myself to love, should not be harder. No, it will not be harder. And if there will be fear, it will be of a different sort. A sort that i would prefer not to conceive of but that I know is there, for me, for all of us.

So, before I meet you tomorrow, surrendering to you own need, remember that you chose how and where and when and why and that there is no going back...

Once you begin, it continues with a volition all of its own. And if you think that you will be able to make sense of it all, as you are swept into it, remember that true writers are written by their books and not the opposite.

It is your very words that will create the reality that you will live in. And needless to say, don't deceive yourself by thinking that because you are the one writing that you can control the situation.

Surrender means surrender. And because your life has steered itself to hell and back, maybe you are finally ready to accept the truth about love:::

And so tomorrow I will pin my hair up exactly to make me look young and innocent and I will meet you, knowing that you too are ready to hold my hand into everything that we cannot as yet conceive and may be never will be able to.