Patch of grass wanted

Sometimes I would like to just lay on the grass and look up at the sky. Just let the minutes tick away. For a small moment in time all my demons and issues are paused and I can remember a clear mind. I used to have that once when I was like 4 I think. Did you ever watch a bug or a bird and try to think what it would be like to them. I would suck at being them. In constant fear that something bigger than me will hunt me down and eat me.

It's easier said than done when it comes to living a life without fear. I hope that when I die my daughter will never have to question my unconditional love for her. She has saved my life more times than she will ever realize. I hope that she will describe me as brave. Not like soldier brave, but broken woman that stood tall and started over brave.

I never thought I was good enough for anyone. And every shitty thing that has ever happened I wasn't surprised when it did. It was just a matter of time usually. I lost some weight and I really honestly felt so good. Walking to the bus stop or around the city having stupid boys stare at me. I know it's childish but it's a picker upper. Sometimes things happen and I find myself almost like a turtle. Back into the shell for protection. Poking out a bit every once in a while until I think it's alright. I fear that I am doomed into this fucking shell forever.

I'm an okay gal. I'm funny and pretty and I care about things most people don't care about. Like my horrible grandmother. And animals, I love animals so much. I would rather be surrounded by them than by people. People suck and they hurt you.

I always watch the busses come and go and there's just something in me that wants to get on one and just fucking go. I don't care where or how far. Just go. I am used to running away from shit my entire life. People deal with pain differently. Some people have a different definition of what pain is. I think feeling alone is painful. Not trusting anyone cuz you are usually proven right really sucks balls too.

The weather is getting warmer and I intend on finding a spot somewhere on the grass and turning off my brain. This stupid fucking brain of mine. I hate my brain soo much sometimes!!! Grrrrr !!! That is either not smart enough or just doesn't stop thinking and makes me absolutely insane. Truthfully I should've been admitted a long time ago. But it makes me funny. Or it makes other people laugh and that's alright with me. I like to make people laugh. I could use a laugh now. But I am in the mall so I can just stare at the stupid orange women with big hair and horrible makeup. There we go that's better :)
All I had to do was look up and there they are.

Holy Mary

Holy Mary Mother of God remember me? We used to be so close. I know its been a while since we have had one of our heart to hearts but its not like I haven't spoken to you at all. I have lost Faith in you though. I am very sad to admit that now. You were always there for me to talk to and cry to but I'm not sure what happened. Remember when we first met? In kindergarten of Regina Pacis in Brooklyn. I was showed a photo of you and was told that you were in fact my real mother. Which now to think of it does that me that me and Jesus are bro and sis? I remember thinking how beautiful you were and I went home and put a blue towel over my head and held out my arms just like you did in your photo. I said "look Daddy, I'm Mother Mary" well needless to say he didn't think it was cute or funny and the belt came off. Those crazy Italian Catholics just cant lighten up I guess.

I always carried you with me Mary. I would hear stories about you and draw pictures of you. And every time I sinned and did something bad all I had to do was say your prayer and poof I was forgiven. While everyone else was growing up and saying their prayers to Jesus I didn't want him I wanted you.You were a beautiful mom that cared so much about me that you would forgive me and understand what I was going through. Although I couldn't see you or feel your presence I always knew you were there. I knew that you would feel bad for me when my own mother didn't even see me in the room.

Remember when we moved to Jersey and I was going into public school where they didn't pray in class? What the fuck was that about I thought. When do we pray in this place? I would put my coat away in the closet I always took my rosaries out of my pocket and quickly kissed them before Mrs Tesa saw me. I prayed to you every night at the foot of my bed before I went to sleep. I think I stopped when I was around 12. I hated living in Staten Island I wanted to be in Brooklyn where I felt safe close to the church. You know the very place where the nuns beat the living hell out of us. What was I thinking?

I always had your pin or rosaries in my pocket growing up. But when things got really bad between me and mom I remember talking to you like I used to when I was little. All the nights I would sit at random train stations and freeze just because there was lights and benches to lay down on. All of that just so I wouldn't have to go home and see her. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of having me need her for anything. I didn't need to sleep in her friggin house I could sleep anywhere. After all the nights where was she? She didn't even come look for me. She didn't even care. I remember holding your pin and kissing it and asking you why couldn't she be like you. If you loved so many people and you were such a good mother to Jesus how come this woman cant love me that way too?
It was just me and you Mary. Nobody ever messed with me at the train stations cuz they thought I was nuts talking to myself.

You were there when it all became too much for me to handle.
You were there each time I had my little cutting moments in the bathroom. Cuz lets face it being stuck in a situation you thought was hopeless and you were in so much emotional pain the physical is much better to feel every once in a while. I have recently visited that place again just for a short moment when my woobie died. But this time you were not there nor did I talk to you while I did it. I know everyone is getting tired of seeing me cry over a dog. I can not express in words the pain my heart is in. There is not a day that goes by that I don't break down somewhere. His smell is fading off the pillow. I havent felt this alone in a long time. Its like everyones life is just continuing but Im just standing still.
Anywhooo I feel like I have abandoned you. I kinda feel guilty about it too. You were there when mom shouldve been saying things like "Hold your head up Stephanie and you'll go far" but instead was saying things like "I love you because I have to, but I don't like you at all". I spoke to you when Philly died and asked you take care of him and now my woobie. But I just don't believe in you like I used to. I question everything about my faith honestly I just don't believe anymore. I feel alone now and kind of stupid and betrayed even. I have had many many conversations about religion and I watched a bunch of stuff on tv that I would've never spoke about or watched before. I feel almost foolish. I just don't know anymore. Maybe one day I will connect with you the way we used to.
Until then I will just look over to my Lady Guadalupe picture every once in a while and give a smile.

Please don't leave

You are laying here on my stomach now & I wish you could always be. I can feel you struggle for air and I feel your little heart beating. I can not believe you will die soon woobie. What happened? I don't understand. It all just seems to have happened so fast.
Tomorrow you will most likely be gone.
I wonder if you are scared. I wonder if you look at me and think why am I not helping you. Do you know that I would do absolutely anything to keep you with me?
You are not just another dog. I don't know what I'm going to do without you. My heart hurts so bad. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. This feeling of helplessness and total utter uselessness. I don't want to accept that it's your time. Your time is here with me.
I am being selfish. I don't want you to suffer and be in pain. I hope you know that daddy and I are trying to make you as comfortable as possible. I don't know how to make it easy for you to go. Maybe me crying like a baby isn't good for you to hear. I don't know.
I wish I knew what happens when you die. Is it the same for animals and people? Will your spirit be here?
Please open your eyes and be okay again Woobie. I have become this mushy ball of tears and snot in pajamas. You are sleeping now and making these little squeaking noises I keep checking to feel if your breathing. I hope that in your final breath you are at peace and you are not scared.
Mommy will always be with you.
I will love you until my dying day my woobie. Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for always listening to my problems. Thank you for always making us laugh. No other dog will ever have the place in my heart that you hold. You have watched Faith grow up. You have stood by my side through all the rough times. And you have been there to find happiness with me. I hope you have had a great life. And I hope that I have been a good mom for you. I love you Woobie. I always will till the day I die. I will miss you so much. I can barely breath now writing this. Goodbye my Woobie.
You're a good boy. I love you.

Release the hounds

I know that when my bra comes off that's the end of the day for me. I know it has a purpose but it bothers me. Its black and expensive and very supportive but fuck its annoying. So when it comes off no more venturing outside no more anything really. There is NO better feeling than walking through the door after a bad day and being home. In the place where I take makeup off and put on my fatty pants that hang off my hips if a breeze blows they fall. And my big oversized Death Bed Confessions Tshirt. Hair back, bra off, slippers on.
A hot cup of coffee made by my immortal beloved. And even if just for a few moments in time it is PEACE.

Then on to laundry cooking cleaning and of course tending to my woobie. Oh yea there is my 13 year old. But she is a teenager now so she just kind of takes up room as if she was a night stand or chair. On tumblr and her web comics. Occasionally she will participate in a joke at my expense. She has the same exact laugh that I have. And she looks like me too (I'm sorry pud) oh yea her nickname is Pud. She is super smart and damn funny she smells weird at times and eats everything. Her name is Faith and she was a little miracle. After being told I could not have children. Poof there she was. Even though my husband isn't her biological dad, he is her father since the moment she saw him. She has loved him ever since. They are both smartasses. And they are funny as hell together. Like Pinky and the Brain. We all dance around like idiots sometimes and it's not pretty but it's fun.

They are my cheerleaders yes even woobie. There to cheer me on no matter what. Even after a day of just wanting to run away or thinking my head might explode they are therapy. Faith on the love seat with all the food in the house infront of her. My immortal beloved on the right side of our couch woobie in the middle and me on the left watching some Big Bang Theory.
They are my peace, my comfy time, my home. Thanks guys.

Throw grandma from the train

I'm not sure how I really truly feel about my grandmother. I know you are supposed to love and respect your elders. And grandmas are cute and sweet and treat you so good. Right ?
Not this old bitch. If anyone is reading this you are thinking what kind of horrible bitch am I to write such things. I think if my grandma went to hell Satan himself would pack a bag and runaway. She's that bad.

My grandma Vicky was always a bitch even as a young girl. She was a drama queen and jealous of her 3 sisters and 2 brothers. Whenever something happened to them something HAD to happen to her. Most of them are dead now but the last remaining few can't stand her either. My grandfather died when my dad was 9 years old. We are told he had a heart attack and died in the middle of 67th street Brooklyn as they were talking to eachother from the window of our house. He was professing his love for her. WRONG!
The real story is they used to fight all the time. And my grandfather died in the arms of his mistress in her apartment. Yes that's messed up but to this day all I have ever heard were lies from Vicky so who knows.
My father met my mother and Vicky hated her from the start. She would tell my mother that he wasn't home he was with other women (sometimes they were right next to eachother just to see what she'd say). I was born then 4 years later my sister Janeen was born. My mom worked like 10 hour days and my dad was Italian in Brooklyn so he was an auto mechanic So Vicky said I will take care of the children if I live here and I won't pay rent. So my parents had no choice and they agreed. Vicky raised me.
She used to show me pictures of other women and tell me that they were my mother and the stupid Irish bitch that I call mother is not my real one. So being told that I can remember being terrified of my mom when she came home. Like who is this women? Did she kidnap me? I tried to run a way when I was 5 I put clothes in my poochie bag and ran to the only place I knew Angelo's pizza which was 2 blocks away. Of course they gave me food and let me hang out and eventually my dad got me and beat the ever loving shit out of me.
I went to a catholic school called Regina Pacis where I was stuck with my cousin Christine who was a little slow. I was her bodyguard. Vicky told me never let anything happen to Christine. And I didn't. I beat kids up for making fun of her and in return the nuns beat the shit out of me. This went on until high school. She was my blood. That's all the reason I needed.

So we move to staten island where Vicky lives in the side apartment of my mothers house. The same arrangement as Brooklyn. But by now I'm a little older and very fat. Vicky thinks the cure for anything cancer, arthritis , aids whatever is hot tea. I have been drinking fucking Lipton hot tea my entire fucking life. All we ever did was have food shoved in our faces. So my sister and I were the fattest kids ever. Vicky would rearrange my moms kitchen. When she came home she no idea where anything was lol. Vicky would curse the shit out of my mom while she was at work and cook all her food and invite everyone over to eat it. My cousins would come over and they were allowed to go play in my bedroom with my toys while I had to sit on the couch and not move. I was forced to watches Ryan's hope and all that crap when I wasn't in school. Half the time I didn't go cuz she didn't want to be lonely.

Where was my Dad in all this and why isn't he telling his mother off?
When he grew up she told him it was his Job to take care of her and that's what his father wouldve wanted.
Vicky was really big on brain washing. If my sister and I didn't do what she wanted she would run to the phone and pick it up and say "do you want me to call your father so he can get upset and die like his father did? Do you want him to die?" of course we did whatever she wanted.
Birthdays and Christmases came and My family would give her gifts and she would open them and if she didn't like it she would throw it at you and yell to take it back. She does that to this very day. She screams at people in stores she curses out all of us. When my sister and I became 13 my parents felt we no longer needed a babysitter so the shit hit the fan. Years and years past still the same mean woman that only pretends to like us when she needs something. Vicky won't call my husband by his name D'Artagnan instead she calls him "the husband" and my daughter Faith is "the kid" or the bitch bastard. Vicky is going deaf now so she really screams and she is so mean to everyone still. But now that I am 34 and I've taken some classes in home health aid and pca I know the stages of aging. And I apply them to her and it all makes sense. So I do feel bad for her at times cuz I think of those classes. But then she calls me a stupid bitch and yep they all go away.

Hoofa-Lu

Opposites really do attract. No thanks to Paula Abdul. Besides my mother-in- law whom I adore, my husband D'Artagnan is possibly the most intelligent man ever. He knows everything. Politics, religion, sports, world affairs, telecommunications and all that crap, math, history, he knows how to put stuff together, he can cook, and he never smells bad EVER !!
He used to be in the United States Marine Corps which just fascinates me so I ask a lot of questions. All the physical and mental training and discipline our Marines go through, it takes a certain kind of person to do that. I will always admire and respect him for it.

I try to hold intelligent conversation with him on occasion but it usually ends up with me not understanding what the hell he is talking about.
I think inside my head in place of my brain sits one of those cymbal clapping wind up monkeys. But mine is dressed all cute. And he knows when my brain is fizzing out and changes the subject or shows me something shiny.
My husband is the best thing to come along into my life. He means the absolute world to me. We have had ups and downs but who hasn't? For every argument we get over I think it brings us closer together. I don't know what I would do without him.
I can be myself around him and he thinks I'm silly. We still have not farted all willy nilly in front of each other. If I fart while I am asleep IT DOESN'T COUNT !!
If anyone watches Big Bang Theory then it's kinda like my husband is Leonard and I am Penny (we both wish I looked as good as Penny but I'm working on it). He becomes this cute little nerdy kid when it comes to comics and collectibles and star wars and all that kinda stuff. I am the most supportive wife ever. I jump on the nerd band wagon and order super hero shirts and crap.
He has had a very difficult journey in this life. He has come such a long way and he did it with dignity. I don't think I would've gotten through half of his life without giving up. So with that said I super wife MUST provide him the little happinesses that he may have missed. Like piñatas and stupid decorations. And all the cake and all the presents for all the holidays. I know he understands why I do the things I do. I love him plain and simple.
I don't talk all fancy and I have no vast knowledge of vocabulary or anything for that matter. I can do makeup like nobody's business. I can disinfect and clean and I can do a cardio workout for 2 hours and not die. But I have lived most of my life in my own world. I have had a very difficult time trusting people. I'm one of the lucky ones. I met and fell in love and married my best friend.

Electric man

So I am 34 years old (tear) and I still to this very day need to completely cover my body with the blanket when I go to bed. As long as my entire body is under the sheet and blanket up to my head, I am safe. Although on the occasion when I hear a noise I am known to completely protect myself with blanket even if it means to the point of suffocation. I'm sure I need mental help but hey I bet this rings true for the majority.
So it all started when I lived in Brooklyn I was about 5 or 6. I Remember waking up screaming because of a dream about this electric man. He is just a figure of a man that is made out of what I think looks like lightning. There is that crackling humming sound kinda like a bug zapper that got some bugs on it. In my dream he walks around my room and waits for the blanket to slip off or for any inch of my body to come out from under the blanket. Then he grabs me and I am just being fried and it's really painful but i usually jump up before I die. What makes it worse is that if I am completely protected by blanket he stands in the doorway and watches me the whole night until the blanket comes off so he can kill me.

I have no friggin clue what it means or represents. All I know is I have had this dream as recent ago as 4/10. I think I will have it for the rest of my life. That crazy bluish and white squiggly electric lines without a voice or body. Just a shape of a man and crackling noises.
It's been for over 30 years now. I still can't make a connection or can think of something that would trigger this nonsense. I know everyone in my family has heard about the electric man. They look at me like I'm nuts. My husband is tired of hearing about this dream Maybe I will get used to it but it is doubtful. I'm sure the whole blanket protection thing stems from my mom which most of my crap does.
But Damn you to hell electric man stay out of my dreams !!