I Hate You!

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.


I'm done.


I hope one day really soon I'll mean every word with every fiber of my being.

Natural Stupidity

Why are our natural responses always the wrong way to act in a situation? It’s sort of like those stupid people in scary movies always making the wrong decision that would lead to a better chance of survival.

In fear, we run away and hide. When has being alone and where no one can see you, hear you, feel you, or know you’re scared, been the best laid plan? In my mind, I want to cling tightly to those who love me or who I love so they can help me feel safe. Instead, I curl into a tight ball and shut everyone out.

In pain, we pull away and get angry at the ones who only want to help.

In depression, instead of surrounding ourselves with laughter, happy people, or exciting and vigorous physical activities that produce adrenaline and dopamine – we lay around feeling sorry for ourselves, being inactive, eating bad food, and ignoring everybody as we wallow in our depravity.

We’re stupid. Life is too short for all this stupid shit. Yet, here I am pushing away those who love me most, not sharing my pain, not seeking comfort in my fear from those I trust. Instead, I’ve been playing with fire and hating myself for it. I don’t know if it’s some kind of mental defect that causes me to punish myself, by hurting myself with destructive behavior. It’s like I’m trying to make those who love me, hate me, before they choose to hate me on their own – as if me making them hate me would make it any better. They would hate me if they knew how I was hurting myself. I hate me. It’s like I’m on a crusade that declares, “Since I’ll never be good enough to love, I’ll bad enough to hate.”

Yeah, yeah… it’s stupid logic. I’m not trying to justify this type of stupidity. I’m just admitting I’m capable of doing it as much as the next person.

The next time you see someone being destructive and stupid, instead of judging them or get angry at them for playing the game, maybe take a step back and look at them with a different set of eyes. Maybe they’re just scared, or they’re hurt, or they’re fighting battles you don’t understand – and they’re lashing out because they’re in pain. Or maybe they’re just assholes.



It’s easy for us – outside the pain – to just say, “Get over it. Grow up.” It’s a different story when you’re on the inside.

Liars and Thieves

The world if full of liars and thieves,

Wearing masks of deception,

Hearts beating with corruption,

Sowing seeds of reprobation,

With no concern for the diseased harvest they produce.

Selfish!

In their drunkenness,

They don’t see the faces full of hunger,

The sallow skin,

The hollow eyes,

The need for somebody to rise up and give a fuck,

To have the courage to speak the truth.

The game is full of liars and thieves,

Rolling shaved dice,

Dealing marked cards,

All the while holding loaded guns beneath the table.

Indifferent!

The poisoned food is eaten by the children,

The bullets fly stray,

Landing in the hearts of the hopeful.

Fuck you, World.  You’re nothing but a liar and a thief.

Till next time,

~Disillusioned No More

Behind the Veil

I’m so fucking mad.  If you can’t handle the word fuck, then you need to stop reading right now because there are bound to be a few in this post. 

I love myself.  I’m trying really hard to be fit and healthy, not for any vain purpose, though I do like how great my body looks, but to be strong and vibrant.  There’s so many things in this world I want to do and I have to be healthy to do them.  For several years all I heard and said was “I can’t”… but not anymore.  I look for ways to do those things I was once told I couldn’t.  Call it my rebellious side, I don’t care.  Call it stubbornness, I still don’t care. 

Anyway…. In my attempt to be healthy and fit, I run.  Because of the fucking horrible humidity of a Georgia summer, I’ve been doing most of my running on my treadmill, but I hate it.  It’s mindless, mind-numbing and I fight for every fucking second I’m on that hamster wheel.  I love being outdoors, feeling the wind on my face, struggling and pushing through all the hills and curves that nature provides.  This morning, I decided to run outdoors.  After all, I live next to a recreation field with a track – there’s no reason not to take advantage of it.  So, I got up early, did my yoga and core exercises, got limbered up and headed outside. 

Well, it’s early… well before sunrise because I don’t have the luxury to wait until the sun comes up because I have to get ready and be at work.  It’s dark, but there’s lots of lights all along the track.  No problem, I can see fine.  I know by now you’re probably wondering when the rant filled with profanities will start.  That’ll be now.

I’m so fucking tired of being scared.  Not three minutes into my run did my heart start pounding rapidly and it had nothing to do with the run and everything to do with a sense of panic filling me up.  The dark woods on my left sent shadows across my trail, and with each one a sharp panic would seize me and memories of past abuses would surface in my mind.  The faith of my youth and the past 20 years also surfaced and the familiar scriptures of calling on God for safety and security flipped through my thoughts. 

Back and forth the images and voices battled.  Abuse, faith, pain, prayer, laughter, tears… all the while in my right hand I gripped my pepper spray and in my left my knife.  About the ¾ mile mark, when my legs burned and my lungs felt like they were about to burst from my chest, the floodgates opened - and I’m so fucking mad. 

I’m so mad I live in a world where a woman can’t go for a fucking simple run without feeling afraid.  Don’t give me this bullshit either about prayer and God’s protection.  I believed with that perfect child-like faith, with every fucking ounce of my heart, every time I’d been attacked or abused.  My faith and belief didn’t stop the violence then, and I have no faith that it would stop it now.  I know the violence won’t stop as long as evil men have a free will.  So, no matter how much faith I have or don’t have the reality of the matter is that it exists and I live among it. 

During the last 1/8^th of my mile I wept for all the other women who have it much worse than me.  I weep for the women in Iraq who have no voice at all, who don’t even have dominion over their own minds, who are victim to a society of savage men who take what they want and leave behind a path of destruction.  My life, even filled with the fear I have running a simple running trail is an oasis compared to what they have to deal with every day.  And those women who have faith and belief watch their husbands and children being murdered for that very faith, while they are raped and abused.  Most people think the violent act of being beat and raped is the hardest part to deal with.  The body heals. But it’s the battle of the mind, the heart, and the soul afterward that is the most violent and it what truly destroys.   

I’m so angry.  I want to shout, “I don’t need a fucking passive god that will hold my hand as I have to stand by and watch this evil run rampant.  I don’t want peace.  I want to fight.”  If someone tried to harm my children, I don’t care what my abilities are, I wouldn’t just stand by and allow it to happen.  I would fight, I would do what I could, even if it meant dying in the process to protect them.  Where are the warriors?

I know I don’t understand the greater scheme of things, but what I do understand is that I’m so fucking tired of being afraid.  For a moment this morning the veil of reality has been pulled back and I see the ugly face of evil in this beautiful world.  I’m not naïve.  I do what I can to be as much prepared as possible.  I have my gun, my pepper spray, my knife, my Ju-Jitsu, and even my weak faith.  But I know that all that preparedness won’t stop evil or protect me from it.  I could have the most badass soldier at my side, and even that can’t fully protect me. 

I’m having a moment this morning and raise my tear-stained cheeks toward heaven and cry out for myself and the other women who are constantly afraid.  But I know this moment will pass and I’ll allow the veil to drop back in place, and once again I’ll focus on the beauty of this world.  I’ll fill my heart and mind with the positive, with the valiant, with the hope for a better day today and even brighter tomorrow.  THAT is my strength and my true weapon against the evil violence in this world. But in this moment… my heart is broke, my faith is weak, and I can’t breathe, and I say, 

“Fuck You!”

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray 

Change Your Glasses; Change Your World

One of the best motivational books I ever read was "Battlefield of the Mind" by Joyce Meyer. While it's based on Christian fundamentals (which I don't understand when or how those fundamentals have become so wrong - some Christians and their interpretations maybe... but the teachings and fundamentals are sound - in my opinion) it started a change in my life, because I started to see how I thought about how my thoughts affected my reactions to things, and how things changed or didn't change in my life because of how I thought about them.

This book is filled with wonderful philosophical quotes that sometimes I'd have to meditate on for months because I really wanted to soak them into my very being.  Here are a few of my Joyce Meyer favorites:

“You cannot have a positive life and a negative mind.”

“Our past may explain why we're suffering but we must not use it as an excuse to stay in bondage.”

 “Asking for something is easy… being responsible for it is the part that develops character.”

 “Patience is not the ability to wait but the ability to keep a good attitude while waiting.”


These are some hard truths,  yet simplistic in their nature.

My biggest achievements have come when I've changed my glasses.  What I mean by that is  - things have changed in my life when I've changed my perception of the world.  I was angry and hurt for so long, all I saw was anger and hurt, the ugliness of life and society, the cracks in the window.  I failed to see the beauty outside the frame.  This reminds me of a phrase in a Jack Johnson song, "Breakdown".  (You can't stop nothin' if you've got no control of the thoughts of your mind that you keep in, you know.  You don't know nothin' that you don't need to know;  the wisdom's in the trees not the glass windows.) But, once I learned to breathe, my vision changed and my focus moved from the cracked glass to the beauty around me. 

I can't fully express, and I'm a writer, how that has changed my life.  Yes, there are still cracked window panes in my life and I'm not ignoring them or pretending they're not there.  But, I'm replacing those windows and spending much more time looking out beyond the frame.  One positive thought at a time, one idea of hope, one mustard seed of faith at a time is changing my life, changing my view, changing my world.  While not all will agree with me, especially those in my past who I've made a change to leave behind, I define these changes as progress.

What about you?

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Revelation's Light

Healing is a long process and from my experience a very painful one, sometimes I believe even more painful from the things for which I’m healing.  I won’t rehash my woes this morning, because I truly feel I’ve reached another level of enlightenment and stage of reconstruction. By revelations’ light, I’m transforming from the ghostly image of who I’ve been into who I’m meant to be.

 According to my expert online research (we all know how trustworthy internet information can be) there are currently seven stages of grief: Shock and Denial; Pain and Guilt; Anger and Bargaining; Depression, Reflection and Loneliness; Upward Turn; Reconstruction and working through; and Acceptance and Hope.  I personally feel there are seventy times seven, and they’re all sitting on a merry-go-round, and until we truly find the peace we need, we just keep circling the same hurts over and over. 

I know this may be hard to believe, but on most days and at any given moment, my friends will often find me smiling, laughing, joking, encouraging someone else, pushing,  giving of myself and anything I can and have to help.  I’m a giver.  I’m compassionate.  But, I’m also a reflective person; I examine myself often.  With that examination come a lot of facing truths, dealing with pain, and gritting teeth while I endure the healing.  Healing isn’t easy; at least not for me. 

Yesterday, a friend of mine sent me this video featuring three of today’s wackiest comedians giving advice on living and overcoming depression.  At first I thought it was funny.  I’m beginning to recognize I use laughter as a defense mechanism at the first sign of pain or discomfort, even without knowing I’m in such a state.  There were a few key phrases that jumped out at me while I watched this video, but throughout the day, at different times, and then in the night while I’m waiting on my mind to drift to sleep, I kept hearing parts of that video play over and over in my head.  I tried distraction of every kind, including playing What’s the Phrase with a few friends, but nothing stopped the anger in me that finally bubbled to the surface and then finally spilled out.  My poor friend, Jenna, graciously allowed me to use her as a sounding board without judging or getting angry at me.  Girlfriends are really important. 

I had thought I’d been through this stage of grief already, but I guess I’ve only scratched the surface, because I’m angry.  I’m not just a little angry; I’m steaming, volcano-erupting-mad-as-hell angry.  I should not be where I am! I’ve worked too hard for too damned long to be here.  I’ve spent my whole life putting other people first and the first time I trust someone else to put me first, they don’t – they let me down; they let me fall, and then walked away to leave me to pick myself up.  I’m so fucking mad.  I gave everything and when I needed someone to believe in me, to sacrifice FOR me, they couldn’t or refused.  I don’t even think most of the pain comes from them not being who I needed them to be, but more from the fact they didn’t deem me worthy of the effort or trouble. 

My anger is so strong it’s colored everything to the point it’s paralyzed me.  Being let down when it’s expected is different than when you finally let go and place your dreams into someone else’s hands.  Then it’s not disappointment; it’s betrayal.  There hasn’t been a task or obstacle I’ve ever had trouble overcoming or defeating in my life, and there have been some major issues, until now.  Literally for the past couple of years I’ve been blinded in rage.  I’m in so much pain I became numb; in shock.  Then when I start to feel it, I blame myself because I should have known better than to trust someone else with the very thing that meant the world to me.  Abuse my body, I’ll bounce back.  Break my heart, it will heal.  But trample on my dreams….

It took me witnessing someone else react in fear concerning their dream for me to realize and recognize what’s been holding me back; why I’ve been paralyzed and not doing simple things I know I should; things that are essentially self-destructive.  I haven’t dealt with the pain yet, because it’s the worse devastation I’ve ever experienced.  I can never express how grateful I am to the friends that have come into my life this past year.  Each one of them has been essential in healing a different part of me.  I know they love me, care for me and only want to help.  All they’ve seen so far is this paralyzed, scared, angry little girl.  But, I’m healing, I’m dealing with my anger, and soon they will get to meet the strong, powerful woman I’ve always been. 

I hope my friends will love her as much as they’ve loved me.  She’s different.  She’s confident, unstoppable, doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, isn’t scared of anything and doesn’t see defeat.  Right now, I’m still very angry. I’m literally shaking as I write this.  I feel trapped, held down against my will and forced into a life I didn’t choose or deserve.  Now that I recognize the source of my paralysis, I have the power to remove it and take a step forward.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

http://www.tlgray.blogspot.com

http://www.authortlgray.wordpress.com

How Many Times?

How many times do we have to be told something before the true message starts to become clear?  How many times do we have to be pushed away before we realize we’re not wanted?  How many times to we have to be left standing alone to realize that we’re alone?  As many times as it needs until we see nothing but the truth. 

Now if you asked, “Why does it take so many times?”  That’s a different question, and the answer is as unique as we are individual.  But I think the sum of the answer lay somewhere in the hopes we’ve personally built within ourselves, even if they’re lies. 

Simply put.  We can lie to ourselves; believe things, situations, and emotions are what we hope.  But, until we dash those false hopes, and there’s not a strand or minute evidence they still exist, we will desperately cling to them and to the fantasy they provide.  Then everything we see, hear, feel, or understand is filtered through that lie and it causes us to become confused… become fools.

Discovering the truth can be very painful.  Not only because we realize we built a false ideal in our minds, but that we’ve acted on it, supported it, and gave the best parts of ourselves to it… all for naught.  The biggest part of the pain is because we realize we were fools. 

When we reach that part, we are left with the decision of now what to do with the message we so clearly didn’t see before; unfiltered; unmasked; without false hope.   How can we ever be sure ANY part of what is left isn’t also false?  How can we possibly trust our decision-making process when it clearly failed us before? 

I don’t know the answer.  I wish I did.  I just know me – and when I know I’ve been a fool I get hurt.  But soon hurt turns to anger, anger turns to bitterness, and bitterness turns to indifference… unless I discover how to forgive - me for being a fool.   

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray