I’m Still Here

On February 27, 2014February 27, 2014 By dancingpalmtreesIn 50+, Acceptance, Alice's Restaurant, Catherine Townsend-Lyon, Character, DeBorah, Mable Elizabeth Palmer, Mable Palmer, Pharmacia Cornucopia, Pusherman, rabbit hole, Shinnyo-en Buddhism, Spirituality, Stigmata, Suffering, Suicide, The Walking Dead, Understanding, White Rabbit3 Comments

I’m Still Here…………

http://youtu.be/BbhEo-4_ETc

Today I am 55 years old. It is a Blessing to be this age. I have depression, anxiety and panic attacks. I’m also a domestic violence and sexual abuse survivor. I’m the person sitting next to you on the bus, subway, at work and in church. No I don’t want pity just acceptance. Recently I had a conversation on my Facebook page regarding mental illness. It was good sharing with my FB buddy who works in the mental illness field about the obstacles and hurdles faced not only by the mentally ill but their families. The government just seems to put more roadblocks in our way so we wind up taking many detours towards a place called Wellness. My mother Mable Elizabeth Palmer lived most of adult life as a functioning schizophrenic. There is a serious lack of support services for the mentally ill thus we read of all these horror stories in the newspapers but for the most part many mentally ill folks carry on with their daily lives. Despite all that I’ve been through as a child and again as an adult I’m happy to be alive.

Sometimes when I tell my story people who have these “happy lives” meaning a satisfying long term marriage, house in New Burbia, kids, grand-kids, successful careers feel sorry for me, pity or think I’m a walking tragedy living a substandard life. Not true! I live in full life in spite of my numerous desert and valley experiences. Perhaps an even fuller more substantive life than those who eat from silver platters. Mine is not a half-life of only the sunny side of the street but a full life that includes the alleys, back-roads, ghettos, and dimly lit streets populated with voices yearning to be head. I like it that way.

Nothing to be sorry about. Despite all the things my parents went through, especially my Mom’s battles with her demons, she was also an alcoholic, overall I had a good childhood. We have a choice to dwell on the sad past or the fond happy times of the past. I think about the good things. The fun stuff our family did when I was growing up. Of course now being an adult I have a different perspective. I was not so accepting myself when I was younger but age, maturity, experience and time changed my viewpoints.

It’s the government and people’s approach to mental illness that needs to be healed. It should not be a stigma. I readily admit to my struggles with depression, anxiety and panic attacks. That’s my life. It is not a tragedy.The tragedy is other peoples reactions and perceptions of mental illness. My Mom was a good wife and mother. I served my country in the Army, earned my BA in English, held down jobs all my life, went to church, now a full participant in Shinnyo-en Buddhism etc… It would be good if people with mental illness were more accepted. If there was more help for those of us suffering. If people would stop trying to impose their expectations on me of what happiness means. Everybody has a past. Everyone has a story. Life goes on. I’m just happy to be alive. Pitiful prayers, slapping oil on my head, telling me the latest New Age positive thinking strategy 12 Steps to Happiness, and sad sack face looks going tsk, tsk, tsk are an insult to my intelligence as a human being. It is what it is. Raw, exposed and uncut.

I have health insurance so I do have the option of returning to those mind-numbing anti-depressant drugs I took after my mother’s death but I choose not too. I choose the full gamut and range of my emotions and feelings as opposed to being a drug induced zombie. During the high points in life I love my odd slightly off center sense of humor. The times when I’m at my lowest are the times when I’m most creative. I’m a better writer, a better photographer because I know what it is like to live life in the margins, the outskirts of society, to be a misfit and an outcast. I’m drawn to people living alternative lives. That’s why I love Street Photography. I don’t want what’s staged, posed or set-up. I want real. The nitty gritty. The down and dirty. The quirky and unusual. If life was meant to be perfect happiness or total sadness the books of Job and the Song of Solomon would not be in the Holy Bible.

What would the world look like if gave a helping hand to the Mentally Ill by supporting organizations like NAMI, prosecuting men who abuse their wives and girlfriends and pulling the collars off ministers who are rapists. What if we weren’t treated like modern day lepers? Instead of further victimizing people living with mental illness write to your Congresspersons and Senators to create laws that will enable us to receive the treatment and support systems we so desperately need.

No I don’t need to be “healed” but our society does.

I’ll Cry Tomorrow

On February 23, 2014 By dancingpalmtreesIn Alice in Wonderland, Alice's Restaurant, Ambien, cacophony, Catharsis, Craving, Creativity, Delusions, despair, Dissonance, Dreams, Fantasy, Fears, Hallucinations, Insomnia, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Koyaanisqatsi, Mid-Life, Mind Altering Substances, Nirvana, Pharmacia Cornucopia, profane, Purgatory, Pusherman, rabbit hole, Redemption, Refuge, Rejection, Rescue, Sacred, Sanctuary, Scars, Shinnyo-en Buddhism, soul, Stigmata, Street preachers, Suffering, Suicide, Surrealism, White Rabbit

The Struggle of the Two Natures in Man George Grey Barnard (American, Bellefonte, Pennsylvania 1863–1938 New York) — The Struggle of the Two Natures in Man
George Grey Barnard (American, Bellefonte, Pennsylvania 1863–1938 New York)

The Struggle of the Two Natures in Man

George Grey Barnard (American, Bellefonte, Pennsylvania 1863–1938 New York)

We all face this struggle of good and evil within ourselves whether we acknowledge it or not. Refusal does not mean it ceases to exist rather it hides like a caged angry animal ready to leap out and cause destruction at the least provocation. The dual natures is an ever present battleground existing within our various selves. We are in one body a mixture of the sacred and the profane. We seek sanctuary from the island of lost souls populated but shades, ghosts of formerly flesh, blood and bone humans. We bear the stigmata and battle scars of imploding internal battlefields. Redemption and refuge will only be found by acknowledging our weakest points, applying salve and seeking greener pathways. Lest we fall into the rabbit hole. Drowning in quicksands of pride and stubbornness. Our decisions. Our choices. Help is available if we clasp the outstretched hand.

As the Apostle Paul states in “Romans 7:15-20

New International Version (NIV)

15 I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. 16 And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. 17 As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. 18 For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature.[a] For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. 19 For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. 20 Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it.”

I’ll Cry Tomorrow

Self-Trust, Inner Guide, the Knowing Voice Within, Strong Internal Core, Ignoring the Experts; These appear to be the latest Buzzwords in the ever present Self-Help craze that has been going on since the 1970s.

Well I beg to differ. I know I’m about to stir up a Hornet’s Nest but that’s what writers do, create controversy, ignite debate and hopefully make readers think. Much to the consternation of the New Age Gurus yes there are wrong choices and bad decisions.

I’ve learned to run major decisions by trusted friends and professionals. Got tired of making bad decisions which backfired on me. You need a few good friends as sounding boards because most of us cannot be objective regarding our problems, thus wrong choices. You need someone or several somebodies to hold you accountable, slap you upside the head and say, “Get with the Program before you Kill Yourself!!”

Friends, ministers, pastors, some co-workers and close family can give objective advice. Sometimes we are way too caught up in our emotions to make correct or wise choices. That guy may be so in love with yet who is violent and abusive is the wrong man. Time to take off the Romantic Blinders and see him as others view him. A violent, abusive, evil tempered jerk. Poor financial choices. Buying a home, car or some other big ticket item could be a very bad choice if you don’t have enough income to cover the outgo.

People have lost homes, jobs, their families and even their lives behind bad choices. The lesson is learned too late for correction. It’s like being a little bit pregnant. No such thing. As humans we are influenced by our fickle emotions, family backgrounds, how we were raised, and society’s expectations. We can’t see the forest for the trees.

For years I was a prescription drug addict. Though the doctors who liberally dispersed the pills are somewhat to blame the lion’s share of the blame is on me because I made the choice to keep taking them nearly to the point of death. Now that I’m in my mid-50s and living a cleaner life, yes my “Internal Core” has improved but it is still not as strong as it should be. Also I still must live with the consequences of previous dumb stupid decisions. Yes I’ve lived through being evicted from my apartment in Queens, been in and out of various hospital emergency rooms, I have a terrible credit rating, plus certain health issues that I’ll be battling the rest of my life. My Inner Guide was a damn fool and an idiot. No I should have gotten professional help. I put my trust in people who I thought loved me and who I assumed would help me. I made choices out of fear and poor health and an addled mind. Finally after seven years of struggle I’m beginning to see daylight. I know my limitations.

I also know that at any point I could backslide but I believe I’ve finally reached the point where I no longer want to live in the Valley. I want a Mountaintop experience. Trust me when I say this wisdom and insight I now possess has only come with fighting depression, fear, panic attacks, and anxieties. Once you hit bottom and you’re tired of living there you’ll find a way to go up. I learned to stop make excuses for my bad behavior, stand up for my rights as a middle-aged Black Woman living in a racist, sexist, ageist society, stopped dating men who don’t respect me, my dreams or goals and who really mean me no good, junked all the pills except for my high blood pressure medication, eat right, exercise and renew my faith. I’m now an active member of the New York Shinnyo-en Buddhist community. Through Buddhism I’ve become a stronger Christian. Truly I’ve begun to understand what it means to work out your Soul’s Salvation. The means of escape you seek is only a delusion. Life is meant to be faced head on. This life is only yours to live. No one can live it for you. Now I’m on a better pathway because I have a clearer more focused mind. I still have some setbacks but my life has improved 95% in the last two years.

Moving Forward.

Please check out the link for a Bio on the actress Susan Hayward star of the movie I’ll Cry Tomorrow. Susan Hayward a BadAss Brooklyn Beauty who even with her cracks, fissures and faults didn’t take shit from anybody. Susan Hayward’s story resonates with me. We are both Fiery, Hotheaded Strong Willed Redheads. Hers was natural. Mine is from a bottle. I Love actresses from the 30s, 40s, and 50s because they overcame so much and were some of the best actresses ever to grace the stage and films. Exotic Beauty, Fame and fortune do not always bring happiness, sometimes just a new set of demons to conquer. Ms. Hayward’s pain made her a better actress because she approached each role from her gut. My pain has made me a better writer. Like her there were times when I did not want to live. I wanted to leave this earth because the pain was too great to bear, yet God sent someone my way to save me and make me realize the foolishness of my actions.

I suffer no fools and I pull no punches. Shipwrecked. Lost. Perhaps. But learning to rely on G.P.S. ~ God’s Positioning System. Shattered Portraits, we picked up the shards, put them in the kiln to create an entire new piece of pottery changed but not consumed by fire.

Like her I struggled with substance abuse. Mine was prescription meds, hers alcohol. Like her I’ve had many failed romances. But through it all we Strong No Nonsense Women prevail, persevere and triumph over defeat. As the title of Susan Hayward’s movie states, “I’ll Cry Tomorrow.”

Ready for my Second Act.

http://youtu.be/jh_Q9BOVUyo

A Building at Rest ~ Goth Holiday at the Museum

On December 8, 2013August 16, 2017 By dancingpalmtreesIn Abuse, Ambien, Battle, Black Unicorn, cacophony, Death, DeBorah, deception, Delusions, despair, Dissonance, Dreams, Evil, Expectations, Fallen Angels, Fantasy, Fears, Grim Reaper, Hades, Hallucinations, hell, horror, Hotel California, Hypnos, Icelus, Insomnia, Instability, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Koyaanisqatsi, Limbo, Loss, Lost Souls, Malevolent, Manufacturered Reality, Memory, Midnight Marauder, Mind Altering Substances, Morpheus, Museum, Mystical Creatures, Night Bird, Nightmares, Oneiroi, Orpheus, Phantaso, profane, Protean, Purgatory, Rejection, Ritual, River Styx, Scars, Skeptic, sorrow, Stigmata, Suffering, Suicide, Surrealism, Swords, Thánatos, The Twilight Zone, The Walking Dead, Trifecta of Terror, Vampires, Visions, Walking Wounded, War, Werewolves, Wicked, Zombies6 Comments

A Building at Rest

The museum Thanksgiving Day 2012 –
the museum is populated by a wonderful yet mysterious quiet & peace undisturbed by the frenetic masses. Silences punctuated only by flowing water, the endless hum and shifting of building machinery.

Even normal noises can be unsettling. Especially those associated with people. The building has become a living breathing organism Uttering creaks moans sighs groans from nearly 150 years of footfalls, voices, radios, songs, cantatas, the chiming of clocks, exclamations of awe & wonder. Whispers from an Archaic Victorian century long past to digital diversity.

Oh what secrets lie transfixed within these silent walls yearning for release. The Hunger has been unleashed upon the populace.

The immortality of brick, mortar & steel record the march of ethnicities & nations who roam free these hallowed halls.

Sometimes the sudden interruption of footfalls becomes ominous, invading the sanctity of the Holy Sanctuary. Even the sound of my own steps is somewhat menacing. What spirits accompany me on perambulations among the saints and sinners?

The feeble burbling of the fountain stream’s half-hearted attempts to empty its essence, struggling to pollinate magnificent coins.

The day is at end, the light has faded. Now the night crew enters to continue the evening melody.

Reflections Goth Holiday 2013

Cadaver Mind A.D.D.

Heaving sighs and moans. Creaks, chrupping of brick, mortar, steel and glass pane windows. Blood oozes and drips from open wounds in Laymen’s red brick walls. Elevator doors open and a thousand wailing, howling, grieving souls swoop through the air and into the Medieval Court crying for revenge. Flight of the Valkyries. The Martyrs avenge their unjust and untimely deaths. Swirling and whirling like profane dervishes from netherworld’s portal of the undead.

Hail Mary Echoes from thousands of Knights, monks, Nuns, bishops, and church saints racing through Byzantium corridors. Spirits of Reliquaries issue forth warnings and admonishments to modern day savages. Reliquary Fingers of Blessing Inflict Pain Yanking Opening Death’s Door breaking off bits and pieces of flesh, bone, teeth and hair for deposit into ossuary banks.

Slats opening and closing mindfully as though giving some secret Morse Code. Dioramas of Death act out murderous suicidal dramas. Eagle slays Dragon plucking out blinded eyes from empty orbs.

Medieval castle built long ago by invaders long forgotten. A grand foyer flanked by two long hallways of Byzantine art leading into Medieval Sculpture Hall filled with statues of Madonnas, Saints, Mystics, Relics, and tombs from Egypt, Europe, Greece, Cyprus and South America. Kali goddess of the sarcophagus raises her many arms in Victory. Subterranean pipes hissing steam clanking unrest.

Secret panels opening up to Mausoleum subterranean chambers containing overturned ossuaries, bones bleached white scattered throughout the tombs.

Abruptly Angels on the Christmas tree come to life and like ravenous vampire bats attack unsuspecting visitors. Reanimated Reliquary Arms reach out to throttle throats of fleeing patrons. Fang toothed Egyptian mummies arise and break through display cases to satiate their ancient eon hunger upon frenzied victims. Their desert saliva spreading infection causing festering vile pus filled carbuncles to captive prey.

Emptiness and Futility of Life — Life’s ignoble Ending

Desire run rampant as sacrilegious effigies coupled and reached radiant necrophilia orgasm stone bodies now made supple. Mystics and Monks glowered lecherously all the while reciting Gregorian chants, dirges and cries for absolution filling the room with the intensity of their mating.

Gargoyles descended from illicit trysts with human females and warlock man beasts gave into the licentious behaviors’ anointing themselves and fleeing clienteles with seminal fluid oily slick.

Orgasm became an exceptional obsession.

Viscous gleaming blood, shimmering with glided preternatural flakes of light. Black Iris her breasts like soft fragrant pillows.

Descendant Daughters’ of Jephthah and Tamar

On December 8, 2013 By dancingpalmtreesIn Art, Broken Hearts, Catharsis, Fallen Angels, grief, Jesus, Loss, Lost Souls, Love, Malevolent, Nirvana, Paradise, profane, Redemption, Refuge, Rejection, Rescue, Sacred, Sages, Sanctuary, Scars, sorrow, soul, Spirit, Sticks & Stones, Stigmata, Suffering, Suicide, Swords, Vanity, Walking Wounded, Wicked, Wisdom, Woman, Zion

Descendant Daughters’ of Jephthah and Tamar

Lord I Believe Help me overcome my unbelief. Father please remove all fears, self-doubts and my nagging sense of failure from my troubled heart and soul. I am the broken winged sparrow lying shivering cold, bereft of hope, hungry for acceptance, on yon forest glen. A Woodland Tragedy. Will Jesus the Gentle Woodsman gather up my shattered heart and bind up my bloody infected wounds? Lord Hear my plaintive cries.

Which voices do I believe? The Judging critical voices of men with ravenous sharp toothed dogs or the brutal voices of women holding sharp knives ready to strike and drive men into grave ground. Or Dear Lord your Tender Still Small voice as you Cradle me in your arms, safety bound. Oh God comfort the descendant Daughters’ of Jephthah and Tamar that we may find solace, peace and sanctuary in a weary heartless land.

http://www.aboutbibleprophecy.com/p349.htm

Soliloquy for Gia Allemand

On August 23, 2013August 23, 2013 By dancingpalmtreesIn Abuse, Activist, Advocate, Bridge, Broken Hearts, Creativity, Death, deception, Deliverance, despair, Domestic Violence, Fallen Angels, Fears, Female Divinity, Feminine Divine, Gia Allemand, John 5:1-8, Loss, Lost Souls, Love, Redemption, Refuge, Rejection, Rescue, Sanctuary, sorrow, Spirit, Spirituality, Stigmata, Suffering, Suicide, Understanding, Wisdom, Woman1 Comment

Soliloquy to Gia Allemand

Ladies, Should you find yourself hospital or bed rest sick; should you lose your job or your hours are reduced and that fool you call a man is offering no financial support and still wants you to cook, clean and have sex something is wrong with the whole picture. Get that male’s shoes out from under your bed.

Yesterday I overheard a conversation between two 20-somethings. One young lady was pouring out her heart to her girlfriend that she is working, getting ready to return to college for another semester, doing all the housework including ironing his shirts, more or less being this man’s personal servant and sex slave. As she was telling her story I could tell the young woman had reached her limit. She refused to iron his shirts anymore and wanted him to carry his weight otherwise she would leave. He responded that if she left the relationship was over. With the support of her understanding girlfriend she was drawing strength to leave this one-sided relationship.

In her words I saw myself in the last year with my abusive ex-boyfriend. At the time I was in my 40s but like these two young women I realized what these type men really want is a combination of their Mama and a hoe. The two ladies were white so Sisters take note, pretty much all men Black, white, brown, etc… eventually cause problems. Baby boys all. Breaking up is very emotional for women because you want the relationship to work but relationships only work if both parties are invested and respect one another.

Meantime, To the Left, to the Left, everything you own in a box to the Left.” – Beyonce. Git to steppin’ and don’t let the door hit you where the dog shoulda bit you! You and I ain’t got time for no foolishness!!

Dearest Gia,

Bonnie Raitt – I Can’t Make You Love Me

http://youtu.be/7_SIfLzccbc

Gia Allemand, a sister in the struggle from Queens, like me. I was once in the dark. I stayed with him for seven years wanting the relationship to work, fear of being alone since I knew I was aging. There are many reasons women stay so I reserve judgment. Even when my ex was especially cruel and violent I still wanted to stay with him hoping things would work out but they never did. Only when stuff got really bad and I thought he might injure or kill me did I ask God to remove him. He left Thanksgiving Day 2007 and a weight was lifted off my shoulders physically but I still deal with problems of being unworthy or inadequate.

It is a never ending battle and the main reason why I finally gave up on men, dating and relationships last year. Domestic violence and emotional abuse have lingering problems that take years to fix. I’m still a work in progress trying to regain my self-confidence. Even after all these years I still have a lot of self-doubt. My heart goes out to all women of all ages and races in the battle to regain you. Sweet Gia, I hope in your decision to leave this earthly plane that your burdened spirit is now at rest. Truly I wish you had lived but my prayer is that through your battle other women will get the help that they so desperately need.

Gia, like you I felt him not just saying but through his cruelty to me, repeatedly communicating over and over, “I Don’t Love you Anymore.”

As my Dad used to say, “Deborah, There are more fish in the ocean.” Alas for you my poor girl this was it. His words were you’re final breaking point.

Gia, the Bible speaks of renewing our minds. That renewal takes more than prayer. It is prayer, meditation, therapy, family and friends. However I know when I was in my 20s the slap in the face, the betrayal of the end of a relationship feels like the end of the world. I suppose for me being in my 40s and living through a disastrous love affair I had a better perspective on life. After months and years of verbal and physical abuse I just wanted the relationship to end. Finally I removed my rose colored glasses. Dawn ever slowly was breaking. This year light has come and deliverance is nigh. We are all Wounded Healers.

The Judds – Love Can Build a Bridge

http://youtu.be/_pqGOf_V2T4

I’m the type of woman who is loyal, faithful, and who will love to the bitter end, however these days I determine the end not the man. I will no longer be the sacrificial lamb. Gia Allemand your story and many other stories will serve as the first step toward wholeness.

John 5:1-8

New King James Version (NKJV)

A Man Healed at the Pool of Bethesda

5 After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. 2 Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, which is called in Hebrew, Bethesda,[a] having five porches. 3 In these lay a great multitude of sick people, blind, lame, paralyzed, waiting for the moving of the water. 4 For an angel went down at a certain time into the pool and stirred up the water; then whoever stepped in first, after the stirring of the water, was made well of whatever disease he had.[b]5 Now a certain man was there who had an infirmity thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he already had been in that condition a long time, He said to him, “Do you want to be made well?”

7 The sick man answered Him, “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; but while I am coming, another steps down before me.”

8 Jesus said to him, “Rise, take up your bed and walk.”

Simon and Garfunkel – Bridge Over Troubled Water Studio Version

http://youtu.be/H_a46WJ1viA

Today The Water is being troubled, I promise to be that Bridge Over Troubled Water. Take my hand and let us journey together.

Rest in Peace.

Gina Marie Allemand (December 20, 1983 – August 14, 2013)