I am reminded by the song from Al B. Sure. You know the one Nite and Day. Wow, this was about the time that I had to leave Florida. While in the sunny state of Florida I had gotten myself into yet another mess. While bartending at Hooters I noticed a very good looking man. There was a Mr. USA pageant in town and it happens he was in the pageant the night before. So of course he was down to partying and he had found the right girl to join him. He was also in town because he had to go to court after being caught with a 18 wheeler full of nothing other than pot, Mary Jane whatever. It wasn’t my thing and I didn’t take it all too serious. I guess he didn’t either. We arrived at the court house totally off our heads and he was given a walk. How this happened I will never know nor so I want to know. But I did know that we were out of coke but still flying high. He came up with the idea to just jump on a plane and go to his house to get some more. I left my car in the parking lot. He was true to his word. In the ceiling of his old farm house in a small town in North Carolina was more kilos of cocaine than I had ever seen. Needless to say I didn’t come right back to Florida but I had also saw to much. Guys like this don’t bring girls like me to meet the family…I had seen too much and I knew that his contacts were shit worried. So that is where Alaska comes into the picture. Anyway back to the subject of Mr. Al B Sure. I had just moved or rather managed to get myself all the way from sunny ass Florida to cold crisp Anchorage Alaska. My aunt and uncle lived there for the past few years. They were no stranger to me coming in and out of there life. Every time there was a problem (by that I mean causing some kind of either drama for myself or just being a brat towards my mom. I was given the option of going to live with “auntie “. These were happy always at the beginning. My family is living off the drama of secrets, it was made me special and I am sure that was passed on to my children. The thought of going to Alaska was something that scared me yet it should have because my personal hell with the prison system started there. But not at first. I have gotten a job with this new Italian restaurant as a manager, mostly because while in Florida I did manage to do somewhat well at the Olive Garden as a “get this “a motivation manager. The job didn’t last long but I took it all very serious. So here we are setting up a new restaurant and whose limo drives up. We worked mainly late at night, Mr. Al B Sure . He has a concert in town later that night and was staying a few days to check out the sites. We were not fully set up and ready yet but I can assure you that Al B. Sure was feed that night.
No it wasn’t like that just yet. Later that night while we were working and trying to meet the opening deadline I overheard an interview that was live on air. Then I heard my name. That was really all that it took. He called I came. I really felt like a queen during these few days but he had to get back on the stage and I listened to promises of the moment knowing that my 15mins of fame were up.
Just in case you are wondering he was in a relationship with Ms Kim Potter. The very same Kim Potter who has twins with P. Diddy. And is the adopted father of her son Quincy. His father is Al B Sure .
So I guess as I walked into work today I knew where to start my story again.
Alaskan Bound !
Good Morning , I havent done very much in the way of writing this weekend. Last week I had shingles and it can be painful. I almost thought maybe the stress of reliving my past might add to it. Anyway Here we are on Monday morning I am up before 6am which is not odd for me these days. I am doing my best to be healthy and that means no alcohol . I must sat that I was bored to death and could not find any energy at all. I have been thinking and after writing this so called book of mine I am ready to get out of Amsterdam and go home. Living here alone is causing me a great deal of stress. The thought is is on the table but this will not be easy as we all know I have beed deported from the states. But good Lord, are they even still looking for Bin laden ? Because my security is right up there with his ... it seems . ( maybe it would be eise to leave out bipolar on the admissions form this time ). Well I guess I need to drag my big ass out of this chair.. put on my happy face and walk to work... Yes you heard me right . I am walking to work...
'A raindrops falls because the sky can no longer handle it's
just like the tears ..
It falls because the heart can no longer handle the"PAIN"That was a bit deep for a Monday morning . Pete the lying weatherman is calling for sun. I am feeling ok . So I will be back on my writing this evening.
Just a small note.. dont forget to care to have faith..
I wonder what life is all about, who controls what happens in life and who made up all the rules in life. The whole "life isn't fair..." should be re-looked at, I think. But then again, "being fair" to one person is "being unfair" to another one, so I guess there is a balance in life and stuff. It just kind of sucks when you're on the other end of the balancing scale and stuff...
I wonder were all that "inner strength" comes from. you know how people tell you, "you're strong, you can make it....you have that inner strength" or something like that....where does that inner strength come from and where can you buy more of it?! *laughs* If only I could buy more of it.
I wonder who is is that plays with your emotions. I know that you supposedly have control over your emotions, but sometimes it just gets out of hand ,and then you do stuff that you regret, or not...but why does it get out of hand, when for the longest time you had control over it.
I wonder if just because you give up, does that still mean that you're a quitter? Hm...maybe saying "give up" should be changed to "doing something different" or something like that. But what if you don't want to quite, but you realize that you're working for nothing, so you change your plans, does that mean you still are a quitter?
I wonder if you do quit, does that mean you are a loser? Like , will you always be quitting everything that you do...making you a loser in everything you do?
I wonder how you can live the life you want, without disappointing other. I really wonder this, because it seems as if I'm always disappointing people and yet, I'm still not happy, because I'm still trying to please them...something that can never happen, and I guess this just makes me stupid now because I realize this, but I'm still trying. But I know that if I stop trying, them I'm stopping my attempt of being happy.
I wonder why people assume things a lot. And expect things a lot. And if they don't get it, they are disappointed. Like they assume that you are okay...but when you're not they "have to" sit there listening to all your woes and stuff...when in reality you were just supper to say, "I'm good."
I wonder why people like to pretend they know how you feel...when no one knows how you really, truly feel...yeah, I think that people could know how you might feel...but that's about it--since everyone is unique.
What a great night with some friends. I haven’t been out in so long that I was actually nervous. Why I don’t know because these are friends and co-workers. I cannot forget what one of them said to me “ It is so good to have you back”. Those few words will be everlasting to me. I knew that I had been isolating myself and it is with good reasons. I mean come on; everyone knows that I was in for the fight of my life. Bipolar stepped in and gave my insane behavior a name. To be fair and keep this “on the real”, I rode on the coattails of this thing called bipolar. To me it was just what everyone had … except mine just showed a bit more, around this time something else hit me. (And we aren’t talking the medication that either made me feel nothing or feel something in the form of pure fat growing upon my body. No it didn’t hit me that I could handle, it floored my big ass to the point of true mental insanity (bipolar, whatever) it sucked!!!!
Now I don’t want to get on the bipolar train because I this isn’t what my aim is here. I have issues; I hope that doesn’t come as a big surprise to anyone. If so you better log off now. Cause this blog is all about me “ healing myself and coming to terms with ME” Forgiveness is the answer is what everyone says, ok how??? So far I have not had one person really explain that part. Also they really need to give a damn.
Now on to the healing: (this will not be public but as always I will add a peek for those who care and please send feedback…)
Today, I bought some picture frames and I had to actually put the pictures in . These pictures help me to write this. I know I would rather avoid much of what I have to say. Not because I cant remember, because remembering is having to feel the burn, the pain… just feel!
After the first few writings I am ok with feeling this pain, sometimes I cry, most times I just try to get a grip of what I am feeling. These are all new feelings that have been hid deep.
I have just received a email from my cousin who lives in California, she has seen the blog and wishes me well.
I have always felt close to her but in way I really do not know her at all. so here I am back in Oakland again , only now I do recall everything . I recall the full blow abuse that was put upon my mom, I no longer ignore it. I no longer feel the cause of the abuse. I am confused at how to keep being my daddy’s girl and still have empathy for my mom. This was the beginning of what would be the end of the “Miller family “. It was also the beginning of a love /hate relationship with my mother that was vocal.
the peek :
I recall the night that we left LA to never return
I will never forget the hatred, (maybe that is a bit strong word to use) but I really did feel something close to it. I was twelve at the time. I was just completely broken up and could not understand how my mother could break up our family. I had not even thought about Debra, her boys , or the fact that he still came over to beat the hell out of my mom. This was forgotten as soon as I was tossed in the taxi and made to keep my mouth shut.
No amount of pleading, crying, threating even fazed my mother. She must have been very scared and here I was making it as if we were running away to join a crazy cult. (In a way we did. living with my aunt was no picnic but that comes later). All I knew is she took me away from my daddy. And she took me to live with the meanest woman I have ever known. She was also the most loyal and caring woman. As life would have it, I did not think that at the time. I looked at my mother the way you would look at any traitor; I hated her from that moment on. I am not twelve anymore and I wish I could behaved different.
Why is it always so hard for me accept change. I must admit that I am stubborn. I say that because when I am overwhelmed with my emotions , I seem to always do what I have always done. I already know what the outcome is .. that is pure insanity.
Today I did try to do it different but in all honesty It was like stopping at a red and not knowing which way to go when the light turns green. So I was just walking in circles in this tiny apartment and somehow just found things to do. It is also very hard to put my needs first. I am trying to change that . But this shit isn't easy. I was looking at some old pictures today , I did the "I wish " thing and of course nothing happened except for me getting a bit down.
Honestly I feel that I wasted my life. My upbringing wasn’t normal by any means but it wasn't as if I lived in the projects. I look at these pictures of my younger self and wonder what was I thinking . Where I did go left when I should have gone where my momma told me . If anything I really hope just one person reads this and gets what I am talking about and if I aim higher, I would hope that it helps young girl. Cause one day you too will look back and I hope it wont be filled with regret .This is beginning to sound as if I lived on skid row, selling myself for a crack hit.. No I had fun , but it is just strange that they don’t stick in my mind. What sticks in my mind is how I had choices . Yet I choose to way into the deep end, always thinking that I had a life jacket.
This must have been around the time that I was living in Alaska …yes I really did live in Alaska. I had three children there .
I also was a bootlegger in a real Indian village , having the only jet bring Pizza hut from anchorage ( along with a little extra ).
I am not sure why I put that part in just yet. Maybe so that you will see that Alaska was all about drugs . And everyone was doing them . from baby girl up to Grandma. I guess it was a way of beating the boredom. I wish I had just took up hiking, pfff
all this connecting is making me forget the point ... yes writing ...
Sunday afternoon, I just woke up after a great nights sleep. I intended on sitting down and getting on with my writing (if you recall I said at least one or 2 hours daily. OK I have already missed 2 days. Yesterday I finally got off my ass and began to clean out the apartment.
When I was home a few months ago after relapsing and going into a manic state then of course depressed as all hell. I began buying all these little candleholders and just plain stuff. It makes me feel better when I can shop. It is sort of a high (something that I will be paying for until I either meet a prince or hit the lottery). I am so amazed at how I creative I am becoming or maybe that isn’t said right. Anyway, I feel that I want to be apart of something. I am not hung over today; I am not desperately on the hunt for someone to love me to validate me as a woman. It feels odd and very grown-up.
I know that I was talking about my first child and “the baby daddy”. We will get back to that but as I sit here I am reminded of my own daddy. He died last year and as luck would have it I had not seen him in 20 years and I had been searching for the past ten years. When I received a email from a lawyer telling me to contact her directly. I knew before I even called. Some months earlier I had sent him a letter to a post box that I had come across. I really didn’t think anything would come out of it. Most of all I did not think that I would receive this dreadful call. He was dead only a week before he got the card. He was trying to contact me already through the same attorney. That gives me some odd comfort.
peek at my writings
My dad had many sides to him but the one I liked best knew I was his little girl and it showed whenever you saw us together. It turns out he was Bipolar and later I found she was also hearing things and listening to voices. This is very difficult to write, I write I stop cry, I write. I had known that he had to go away every now and then. My first memory of that and I think his first time “going to rest” was me coming home from school and in the front yard was my mom crying. Since they fought a lot, maybe I should say he beat her often I was used to it. But then I was only able to get a quick look at the figure lying naked on the grass and these men trying to get ahold of my dad. I was terrified. I had blocked this out for many years and so did the rest of the family. Upon his return from these “rest stops” I always came home to find something new for me, a princess bedroom set, record player. Keep in mind that this is the 70’s and my family was struggling to be middleclass. I don’t recall ever feeling poor back then but that is from a child’s eye. Now I just see how they wanted to just be middleclass.
We moved between Oakland CA, the Bay Area and LA.
Yesterday I had to rethink if I wanted to make something so personal public , I know that I am leaving most of it out . ( the story ) still it is not for the faint hearted . It is hard to sit down and recall some of the most hurtful times in your life. After I wrote yesterday's post I really took 20 mins to sit in the quiet and reflect. That is what this is all about. But now suddenly I am wondering do I really want to have this all over the net. I am conflicted so I will continue and just allow small parts of what I have written that day. I am so damn sick of the drama of what is my life .I feel that it is time to move on. I can taste the bitterness of goodbye. I laugh when I am happy , I am a kind person and I will be the first to lead a helping hand . Too others . It's my turn. I don't want to offend anyone ,so if this is just too heavy for any of you .I am sorry and this is the great thing about the net F*cking "delete!!
Sometimes I can be a little too giving and nice, this is important to me . Please feel free to peek in on my troubled attempt to "heal thy self" . feedback is cool and another great thing is I can also delete. If you are following me at some point I will reveal all that I have written .
The bipolar in me is already thinking of names for my new best seller . haha, come on , I have to lighten this up a bit. PFFF
Here is a small preview today's Heal Thy Self's writing : I have omitted the names of everyone out of respect to my little ones.
feel free to read or not.
my man (he was good-looking but now he was also a big dealer. ) Started with hang up calls, him not coming home, and the hitting and yelling became came more often along with the new cars the new house with the upstairs party room. The beating also bought along several people crashing in our house (on the white sands of Florida’s beaches. As I write this I can recall that I had choices, still I could have called at any time and my parents would drive down. I think I felt that I had to win. This happened with more relationships down the line. Instead of me working in a office, retail or elsewhere, I choose to apply for “Hooters”. This was the 80’s and everything was big, fun and for the taking. It was a good time to just be wild. It was accepted. Right before the interview I noticed that my ex was a big fan of the blond girls and trust me if you are not secure with yourself Florida is not the place to be. I went and dyed my hair blond, it didn’t take the first time and came out orange. I nearly fainted but as my ex was selling to the hairdresser it wasn’t a problem to get an appointment after the shop was closed. We all drank cheap champagne snorted lines on lovely plates . The beauty shop became the place to be. To this day I think that the blond hair came out great. However I sort of looked like one of “singing raisins from the commercial for Raisin Brand. Dark and sunburnt with this blond hair that was teased up so high…and to top it off these purple cheeks.
The day I had my interview for Hooters I was so nervous, if I didn’t make the cut that meant I wasn’t pretty enough. If you ran around in my group you would know that all the guys wanted a “Hooters Girl” and that maybe my main goal in life.
This also had something to do with the fact that my ex was cheating with a hooters girl. I had to find my way in.