Ron Artest is one funny guy. lol is all I can do.
Ron Artest is one funny guy. lol is all I can do.
Therapy is crazy expensive! With no insurance (like most of us) and even with it’s an anxiety attack all on its own. Continuously checking your watch.. 20 minutes left… have not even told a fraction of your story. Irritated by this shrinks instant comfort in believing they have me so quickly figured out. Jotting notes, referencing their own families and life experiences with particular medications.. Looks of judgments conflict with confusion. Twenty more minutes deducted. Who’s really helping who? When I’m the one paying you..? Bills upon bills continue to weigh me —–down↓ I continue to listen.. Only eleven minutes left.. As I tear out a rubber check. You grab your all you know to do prescription pad… A blank stare. A scribble a scratch. I’ve been down this road before. My hours up. I’m shown the door. So… with all that. My life locked in a strangers concrete office… is not enough. All they got for me, Another bottle of pills that are the true killer of this disease. There the Dr. with the paper certificate on the wall for proof. Sixty minutes later and *POOF* my story shelved for reasons of financial strain. My heart must continue to find away to go on with this magnitude of wretched pain. So keep your refills for all these pills. I got my own pharmacy. I can diagnose you for free. By just truly listening and my own personal life experiences. A worm hole into your pain intensely fills my veins with your infested DNA. Empathy brings us back. I’ll help you up. Won’t let you crack. God and compassion got your back. Your therapy’s within you. Trust me, Only you can complete you. I agree, “Ron Artest” makes the psychology thing look real good. Championships and happiness. Along way from the hood. Yes, I agree he’s done real good. However, his psychologist’s not going to break his bank. It’s more of a chit chat session. A meditation for what was at stake. A breather of sorts. An extra curricular activity.. something fit in on Thursdays at three… So, you see… know your position. I continue to preach. If your steady counting the minutes, clammy hands and anxiety that it’s almost time to go.. same night, pockets lighter and still having to do your usual pick yourself up off the floor, popping pills on an empty stomach do to no food do to paying your therapist… with no help from your state insurance that ran out aka never exist-ed in the first place. So you wonder why your filled with rage..? On your way home from your session counting change to see if you can afford a gallon maybe two for your always empty tank. Your past due bills soon await you right behind your front door. Your once sanctuary now imprisonment from bill collectors, census workers, probation officers and nosy neighbors. Checking sofa cushions for any extra change, pockets from winter coats and book pages for that special rainy day. For today’s that day. In order to schedule that next Dr. visit need another hundred and fifty bucks. But then again if I can come up with half. They may be able to squeeze in a phone consultation!!! Oh oops that’s just as soon as they return from there much-needed vacation.
CONCLUSION: See about yourself. (UNLESS) Your Ron Artest and you can have a prearranged paid up weekly chat visit scheduled a year in advance. Still it does not really change… Sign here sign there, In and out and on with your day.
Q♥ Why did I start this blog?
A♥ This is a way for me to stay true to myself while confronting my situation•life head on with the support of the world and guidance from God. I will play this hand I’ve been dealt. I will not fold my hand. I am ALL IN. My prayer is that my most personal memoirs can in somehow someway warm your heart and bring a smile to your face today.
The air is thick. Awkwardness remains UNstable. Tension on the rise. Cry out of frustration. On overflow. Highly flammable. A little unsure of how I should play this hand or take an easier route. No bluff. Stone cold. Just fold all cards in hand. Rage settles from raw emotions. Exasperated from the dramatics. Self centered fanatics. Can’t believe I’m writing about this. Running on a quart tank. High octane. At any moment I could ignite. Tension like this would make anyone consider the option of taking flight. Away from the madness. Depression and sadness. Pent up feelings of how you truly feel. Passing on these feelings through random lines and mail. Chit Chat. You won’t believe what happened in the spat!?! I will not engage. I’m burnt the hell out. Take the childlike-ness to another room and by the way.. Keep my name out your mouth. This is all crazy. Entrusted loves. Information on lock-down. Strictly on a need to know basis.
My name Δ An echo… Through the depths of his eyes. Hope will last eternity ∞ Or is it that which is disease? JAZ a murmured SHOCK ♥ People scattering as if a flock…. Glossy tear dropped eyes reflect… Against the pain in mind. †HELL† called out to her. It is only grief… and the utmost pain I have stirred. Good morning fire sparking off into her skin… Leaving burnt marks scattered across my nose and chin. A black rose. A chilling silence. As awkward wind blows… A knock on his window.. Eyes fluttering twice.. A (single) black tear falls from the pupil of his eye ♥ My name JAZ a whispered murmur through the crowd ♥ My name JAZ a whispered murmur growing LOUD.
Twelve years later…
An inner secret most quietly kept. An inner longing that makes no sense. Do or Don’t. Back and Forth. Where we went wrong. Fresh tears. Same dance. Same song. How many more years will I prolong this desire inside of me.. Trying to work on my time. An unattractive controlling habit of mine. Realizing that this does not always work. Stacking my deck. Attempting to interfere with Gods work. Days turned to weeks turned to months. Years have now passed. New generations growing up fast. Hesitantly still praying for my chance.. Unsure of how long this feeling will last.. It comes and it goes you see. My strengths tested daily. The state of the world making me that much more afraid. I won’t even start about the pain! Soon all turns to shame. Arguments arise and then words reignite flames and here starts this never-ending cycle of our mentally depleting blame game.. Pain no more. Nothing to gain from hurt-fullness.. (in truth) the devils madness. Deep in shadow, lies secretly just the longing for a gentle kiss that will lead to your seed.. A privy glimpse of the hit or miss of my most intimate monthly business.
For some reason… I’m making it very hard for you to love me. What all am I doing so wrong? Shall we make a list of all the wrongs you see in me? What keeps you from connecting your eyes with mine? Is it our limited time? I know I’m all over the place. Shaking our foundation like an unexpected sink hole in our soul. I’m so sorry to bring you added pressures. Added pains. It’s never intentional. My love levels never questionable. I lost myself in you. Beautiful beautifully you. Faded in your eyes? Just wanna be your girl.. and you my guy. What happened to us? Are we going to make it through? The constant bantering left me all bruised. So long life’s been on cruise – control so hard to let go. Holding on to every memory, last word in sync syllable for syllable. Come back to me. There’s enough in me to fight for you. If you need to lay it all out for me I’ll listen again. I’m strung out on love and your coldness has stung me intravenously in my soul. Grab the jumper cables. Enlighten me. Energize me. Don’t let me go. It’s a really bumpy part in our ever-changing windy winding road. We have been on this journey with one another constantly doubting and questioning each other. Please stop asking me for my plan. Make one with me. I’m not letting go. You belong to me. Your not going anywhere. Your stuck you see. Surrender completely to me and just… love… me. Unconditionally today and always…