Smoking

Asian smart and a lie

I'm not as smart as I think I am. And I'm okay with that.

A lovely butterfly.

Yummy in my tummy.

Think of all the stories this car could tell. #funkyride #iwantthis

My inability to feel...

There are times in my day that I stop what I'm doing and I feel my heart just to feel some semblance of life. I've been so accustomed to acting normal all these years that I don't know if my smiles are real, or if my laughter really sounds what I used to sound like. It's been almost 4 years, and this depression has not subsided. I thought falling in love with the man of my dreams would help this, and in some cases it has. But it just lays dormant until I have a moment to think, to reflect, to feel my heart beating and remind myself that this happiness, this depression, also shall pass.

I totally agree!!

Divine Madness

She made a mistake, she made a horrible mistake. She was stupid, she was insane, she was only 12, she was a stupid, insane 12 year old. She was the only person her age to be in an asylum, or that she knew of. It was because of the voices, the bad voices that made her do bad stuff. Her parents thought she was insane, why should she think any different? They had enough of her burning herself, talking to herself, cutting her hair with a razor to try to get to the root of the problem, or so she said. So they drove her to a Psyche Ward and the people in the white uniforms interviewed her. They looked at her with smiles, but their eyes told something different, something evil. The voices told her that.

She didn’t test very well; she wouldn’t cooperate when the people in the white uniforms tried to takes some blood from her arm. It was her left arm, her useless arm, she wrote with her right hand. Why couldn’t they take samples from her right arm, her strong arm, the arm she used knives with when she ate steaks. She struggled, she bit, she spit, she punched, she cursed, she screamed, it took 5 people to get her to sit and settle down. She was pissed! There were two people holding each of her arms, 2 people holding each of her legs, and one man holding her head still, he was an evil man.

The voices went ballistic when they saw him through her eyes. They wanted to crawl out of her skin and eat him up alive. The evil man holding her head smirked at her, trying to hold back laughter. “Butterflies, I see butterflies dancing on your skin, drinking in your lust.” The evil man’s smirk died as his eyes hardened. The voices said they saw images in his head of what he would do to her if he ever got to be alone with her. ‘The big bad wolf is going to eat you all up,’ the voices chanted in her head.

The men in the uniforms and her parents discussed her situation as she sat there motionless, her heart full of rage, no matter what she did, she couldn’t express it. Maybe it was the drugs they forced down her throat. So she did what the drugs told her to do, she danced around the room in circles with her arms out wide humming a song in her head. Her mom stared at her helplessly with tears in her eyes, her dad watched her with concern and some embarrassment as the girl started to laugh.

Two men, the bad man from before and another man who looked like a model tried to get her to settle down as they cornered her against a wall. The man model tried to sooth her with words as the other man try to give her another shot. The look that the bad man gave her made her feel like prey so she spit on him. His nose flared, his face got red, and as he wiped the spittle from his eye he slapped her across the face, causing her lip to bleed. Seeing her distraction of shock he stabs the syringe in her arm as he laughs. She in desperation struggles, but when that doesn’t work she starts to hit him, but that made him seem happier to cause her more pain. As the effects of the sedation calms her down she cries as she falls to the ground. Her mother tries to sooth her with a hug, but the girl only pushes her away. The blurry white uniforms take her away to a white room. She heard the man in charge tell her parents they would do everything they could to cure her of her madness as the doors were closed behind her.

In her fear she tries her best to stay awake, to be stubborn as hell, to do everything in her power to get out. She pounds on the door cursing, even made death threats that the voices told her to say. A while later she collapses in exhaustion and dreams of stones and bones and little wormies crawling.

She woke up some times later when she heard foot steps. She sits up as the door opens to reveal a woman, the evil man, and the man in charge. The man in charge looked like her grand-pa, so she put a little trust in him. The woman kneels down as she inspects the girl. The woman sees the bruise on the girls left cheek and eyes the evil man. The evil man shrugs saying, “Some girls need a little tough lovin.” He smirks as the girl glares at him. The woman soothes the girl by singing her a song as the old man takes her pulse, shines a light in her eyes, and checks her head for deep cuts for when she cut her hair with the razor.

The voices were getting louder, so she did her best to listen to the woman, she was nice. But they didn’t like the song, they complained, they screamed, they got louder.

“No, no, please no more. Stop! No more, Amy good girl now, Amy good girl now!” The girl screamed as she pounded her head with her small fists as she rocked back and forth on her knees. The nice woman tried to stop her fists, but was unsuccessful. “Amy, tell me what’s wrong. Please, we’ll help you. Tell us.”

Through her tears the girl said, “In my head, too much in my head, it hurts, it swims, it pleads with me,” the girl babbled between each sob. “Make it go away…”

I'm not a good person

Around this time 5 years ago, I found out I was pregnant, and I made the not so hard decision to have an abortion. I was 26, still living at home, and the guy I was with wasn't in the picture. It was 4 months since I last saw him, in that seedy hotel, where I very much felt like a whore. You see, I was the other woman. I didn't care that he was engaged to another woman. I really didn't care. I didn't even care about him. I didn't even like him. I just wanted to sleep with him because it was fun. Since it had been 4 months since I last had my period, I went to the Chinese doctors office to see if I could get acupunctures or any herbal remedies that would give me my period, because back then, from the time I got my first period back in middle school, my periods were very inconsistent. So inconsistent that I could go months before I'd get my period. It didn't even occur to me that I was pregnant. On that day, I remember distinctly it was Friday April 29th, 2011 because it was the day that Prince William married Kate, and I woke up early to watch the wedding. So ironically, they're great day, is my worst day ever. I remember my mom and I driving to the Chinese clinic, and we waited in the waiting room, and I was called up, My doctor asked if I was sexually active, and I lied, saying no. She asked me to pee in the cup (I did), and to wait in the waiting room. I waited for 10 minutes before the doctor came to get me to tell me what medicines I should take to get my period flowing (or so I assumed). I asked if my mom could come along, because if it's pills or other medical terms said in Chinese, my mom could translate to me. The doctor gave me a weird look, said yes, and we followed her into the examining room. "So, the reason why you're not getting your period is not due to your usual inconsistency, but that you've tested positive for pregnancy." "What?" "You're pregnant." "She's what?" "She's pregnant, she tested positive." After finding out, my mom was very silent, very much in shock, as was I. I put on a fake smile as the receptionist who told the doctor I tested positive congratulated me on my little bundle of joy. I thanked her profusely, and smiled ear to ear. But on the inside, I was dying; in shock; in denial. In the parking lot, my mom suddenly in a burst of manic anger, pain, confusion, and worry, honked the horn for a good 5 seconds. I looked at her red face, and wanted her to hit me. But she didn't. We drove home, her asking me questions, and me telling her as much as I could. I was in denial, I thought the test was bullshit. The first thought in my head was, "I need to get an abortion." When she got home, she immediately called my dad (he was in China at the time). It's funny, to this day, he and I have never spoken a word about my pregnancy. Then she called my brother (who was/is living in Taiwan). I didn't want her to call my brother. I kind of feared him, and I love him more than my parents, and his opinion of me is everything. I hate disappointing him. She handed the phone to me, because he wanted to talk to me. He asked me, "Hey, what's going on?" And I, in my normal voice said, "Not much." Denial, denial, denial. Followed would be a weird weekend. That Friday night, my best friend called me to say that she wouldn't be able to go to my house to watch a movie, and she could hear in my voice that there was something wrong, and asked me what was up. I told her, and she was beyond shocked. She said she would see me in the afternoon, and we would get our own pregnancy test. The next day, we went to CVS and got the most expensive test, and took it back to my house. The 5 minutes after peeing on the stick and waiting is like dangling on a cliff. One strong gust of wind can push you off, or some how lift you up back on the ledge. After 5 minutes, and then another 5 minutes to actually look at the test, because fear does that to you, I was pushed off the cliff. It was positive, I was pregnant, I would be a mom in 5 months time. Then my mom came home, and we told her that I was indeed pregnant, and she asked me what I was going to do. I immediately told her, out loud, and no longer to myself, "I'm going to get an abortion." I spent the rest of the weekend looking up preterm clinics in Columbus, but there were non. Which was good I guess, because what if I ran into someone I knew, right? On Monday, I finally found a place in Cleveland, but they had a few stipulations. By Ohio law, you have to have at least 2 visits to get an abortion. The first visit will last 3–4 hours. On your first visit, they make you fill out paperwork, make you take an ultra sound, give you a private counseling session, and a consultation with your physician. The second visit will be the actual abortion, depending on what kind you have. It can take up to 2-6 hours, and then you rest in the recovery room. Also if you're more than 17 weeks along, it will take up to 3 visits. By the time I booked my first visit (they were booked), I would be at the 17 week mark. I called them that Monday, and didn't have any open appointments until the following Friday. So that day, my best friend and I went together, and I looked away as they gave me an ultra sound, and I told the counselor that the father of the baby didn't know he was the father, and that I just wanted (quite bluntly) to get this over with. And then the next Friday, my mom and I went back to the clinic where they prepared me for the procedure, and then performed the procedure on Saturday, and then sent me home, feeling empty and unfeeling. I have more to say about this, but this is what comes to mind as the 5 year anniversary of my worst day passes me by. I'm glad that I had this done. I'm not happy that I had an abortion though, it's not something I brag about. It's just something I did, and because of this, I still have an empty feeling in me. I'm depressed, and I'm okay with that, I slightly welcome it, because this is my punishment by God. I'm afraid that I may end up in Hell, but that is justified. I allowed murder, and I wanted it to happen. People always say that things happen for a reason. That's not true. They happen because they happen. This is not some paradise where everything is rosy. Life is hard, and life gives you tough choices. I might've chosen the wrong choice, but I'm relatively happy now, and I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to my unborn child, but I'm afraid that it's not good enough. I'll be honest here. I wish all this had never happened, but I would definitely make the same choice again. That baby, would not have been loved, or taken care of. You can't love something when you don't love yourself.

butterflyinthewell, hello friend, I hope you get this. This is my 3rd attempt trying to post this, but every time I’m almost done writing, my screen goes blank and my whole text disappears. I want to say that I hope I didn’t offend you, and I had no intention to offend anyone. This poem when I wrote this was about the autistic boy I’ve been working with (I’m an ABA therapist and Respite care worker) who recently had a seizure (his first one) out of the blue, and I watched as his mom stared at him with such love while they were eating that it very much warmed my heart, that the image has been sticking with me for weeks, and I had to write it down.

When I wrote that his mind was in bondage and in chains, I wanted to include my own experiences teaching different autistic children on the spectrum how frustrated they get usually because if they’re completely non verbal, it must feel infuriating to them because all the words they want to say could be on the tip of their tongue, but unable to fully go over the edge to form words, but the love AND freedom is in the way they express themselves, in like you said, “flapping of the hands, laughing, spinning or jumping,” as a form of communication. And again, I hope I didn’t offend, it was not my intention. My experience with this boy has been amazing, and I know that I’m on his mind, because once when I went away for a month on vacation, and came back, he did stare at me, and sat on my lap, and I knew that I was loved and trusted. I still smile at that memory, because I love him and his whole family.

I guess, now that I think about it, it’s not much of a prison if you have loved ones around to keep you grounded, and those willing to help you out to the best of their ability, and to know that you have a whole community backing you up. Thank you, friend, for calling me out so that I can experience other peoples experiences. Again, I hope I didn’t offend you too much, it was not my intention to upset you. But this was a great learning experience in how people deal with obstacles in their lives. Thank you for also sharing part of your story.

His eyes...

she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there far beyond her reach.

Behind his eyes was freedom, far from the chains of his mind and the complex bondage he was held fast to. If only he could reach out. But he is left with a blank stare and various stimulation that were expressed with a flap of his arms, and twirling, his constant twirling around.

She held fast though, returning each time to look into his eyes, because she knew, she knew there was freedom behind his eyes.

A freedom that would break free for an instant, and he would focus and be free from the chains for but a moment, and stare back with recognition, with a single word on the tip of his tongue, but would never be uttered; “mom.”

His eyes, she thought, are beautiful. There is life in there, far beyond her reach.

I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order. -John Burroughs