Wednesday, December 30, 2015

My Life

While going through old boxes in the back of my closet, I found a lot of shit. Dishes. Clothes. Scrapbooks. Albums. Pictures. Letters. Memories that had been packed away. Mostly forgotten. Not sure what got into me. Why the nostalgia need. Most definitely was a bad idea.

I can be vague here as is my norm. Or I can just be honest. Tell you that seeing those albums was painful. Although I laughed and fake-gagged at the time. I can say that I am over it. It's all the past and doesn't affect me. But that is not the truth. I did flip through those pictures. Glanced at the scrapbooks containing hundreds of letter. Handwritten love letters. Flashing back to another time. A time that was less complicated.

I saw myself. What outsiders saw. Religious. Observant. Following the rules. Whatever you want to call it. I was playing the part. Living the lifestyle.

I know now that it was all a facade. Waiting to crash at my feet. Living in a fantasy land. Surrounded by infatuation. Desire for a future. No understanding of the present. Of the facts in front me. Avoiding reality. All to live in delusion. A dream of what I wanted and not what was.

I gave up myself. I lost who I was. And I did it willingly. I followed a path that I didn't want. To fit in. To please everyone else. But I was not happy. I was controlled. Miserable. I was uncomfortable in my own skin. I wasn't authentic.

And that's not who I am. Who I ever wanted to be. All I ever wanted to be. Unique. To be authentic. What you see is what you get. Not two-faced at all. Honest to a fault.

And now, although a lot has changed. It is not a bad thing. Looking at my face in those pictures, I see a lonely and sad girl. Standing at a distance from those around her.
Lost. Alone. Leading a life that is not her own. Trapped in a life she doesn't desire.

Today I am grateful. I feel lucky that I have myself back. That I am living my life. As I want to live it. And I won't take that freedom for granted. And I won't lie and say that it isn't hard. Doesn't get painful. The loneliness is definitely there under the surface. But I  no longer feel hopeless. Because my happiness and my life do not depend on you or anyone else. It's internal. My choice. My goals. My life.

My life.

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

What Did I Do

What am I supposed to take from that
Is there a lesson somewhere
A punishment
Were you trying to give me a message
A wake up call
Did I need it that day
That minute
Of all places
I had to pass by then
Cross the street
At that very moment
On that specific day
Exact hour
Tell me why
What did I do
Why did I need that
What were you trying to say
Did you want me to think
Pretend there's such a thing
As coincidence
Random chance
There's no such thing
Everything matters
Has a purpose
A reason
So tell me why
Why did you do it
Do you even care
See me
Hear my silent pain
Is that your plan
So blatantly obvious
In my face
On a terrible day
The worst kind

Tell me why

Saturday, December 5, 2015

You Don't Know Me

You think you know me but you don't.

I am a doer
A fighter
A leader
I am motivated
And loyal
I will be there for you

I am weak
A patient
I am in pain
I am scared
I am a failure

I have officially been told that I have a medication overuse headache. So add that to my three other kinds of headaches and we could have a party. Oh wait, it seems my head is already having a party and I wasn't invited. So not only do I have bronchitis. But I also have to stop taking all meds for 5 weeks. Gotta ween myself off my addiction to pain meds. All the while suffering from a terrible withdrawal headache, attached to my migraine and occipital neuralgia. Not to mention my IIH. Which thanks to Hopkins, we have no idea what is going on. I just get to fall apart. And suffer in constant agony. And all the while, I have to function. Go about my regular life. Pretend like there isn't a war zone in my skull. That I don't feel like I'm being attacked by shooting fire. That I won't combust at any minute. From sheer pain. I have to go about my day like nothing is wrong and I am totally fine. Work. School. Volunteering. No biggie. When the truth is. Most days I want to curl up and shut down.

How could Hopkins dare tell me that come January, I will have to find a local neurologist to manage my care. And in the next sentence say my case is quite complicated. How could you dump me and expect me to manage. No one wants to deal with me. Have I become that patient. Have I become a nuisance. Life fading out of my eyes. Suffocating under the weight of my pain. Of my diseases. How can you tell me six months ago that you will admit me for testing and then not follow up. Tell me that there are no beds. No neurosurgeons on staff. That you are understaffed. And receiving over 300 calls a day. Aren't you the top hospital in the world. Innovative in your field. You say now that you will schedule me for DHA and ICP monitoring. Find out what is causing my chronic pain. But I don't believe you. You only seem to care when people are dying. Is that what you are waiting for. For me to completely fall apart. Puking my guts out. Unable to go to work. To school. Confined to my bed. My couch. You need me to get to the point before you will help me.

But do I even want to be admitted for testing. Shave my head. All to find out there's nothing wrong. That I am just a mess. Can't get my life together. Who will stay with me. Take care of me. I can't be the patient. The needy one. I am the strong one. Dr. Rabbit. My fear of being alone is overwhelming. Of never moving on from this chapter. Never being free. Pain free. I am desperately trying to live a productive life. Unemotional at work. Working my ass off in school. But this pain is overwhelming. It's debilitating. I cannot function. I cannot move. I cannot succeed like this. I am a shadow. Living half a life. With no relief. No break for the future.

You think you see me. But you have no idea.

Friday, December 4, 2015


It's not healthy for me. Don't you get it. Why would you even bother. Have I not made myself clear. I asked you to stop. In the nicest way possible. So please tell me why. Why would you even try. Do you think I wasn't serious. That I don't stick to my word. 

I don't need this. Reading old messages. Emails. Of a previous lifetime. Someone that wasn't me. That I never wanted to be. A trap that I fell into. Judging myself throughout. 

I've moved forward. Onward. I'm trying. But it's hard. All the time. Nothing comes easy. Nothing is simple. Blockades at every turn. The world desperately waiting to see me stumble. Fall flat on my face. Accomplishing nothing. 

I will not give in. Not to the pain. Not to the fear. No person will stand in my way. Not even myself. I will fight. And push through. No matter the cost. Or the loss. You will not be a problem. A tiny fleck of dust I have blown away. You and everyone else. No interference. Not a thing.

Wednesday, November 11, 2015


Seriously. That's what you are going to say.You do not want me to respond. Because it won't be pretty. I won't be that quiet soul you think you met. Maybe you should grow a pair. Of balls that is. Because you don't know me. No one puts me in a corner. Or defines me. I don't fit into a neat little box. I am limitless. And you do not call the shots. Maybe you should look inward instead of pointing fingers. Did you ever think that it might be you that's the problem. Maybe you should look at your pattern. And get a clue. Don't you dare make assumptions about me. Or label me. I am not yours to comment about. Open your eyes. Or smell the coffee. Whatever. You are not worth my time.

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Eat your food. Don't wear it.

I've been watching this show. I don't know why but it kind of fascinates me. Each episode shows two points of view of the same story. The first half shows the man's story and the second half shows her version of what happened. They are wearing different clothes, the conversations are different. It is their own unique story.

It makes me think of life. Of how we interact with the world around us. People in our lives. We each walk around with a bubble surrounding us. We are each the center of our own world. And everyone else is playing a part in it. And there are billions of bubbles all trying to interact.

I recently had an experience where I should have followed my gut. I let people talk me into doing something that I knew deep inside that I didn't want to do. But for the good of the cause. Possibly for my future. I agreed. What a waste of time. I knew it wasn't right. But I went along with it. To make them happy. Not to be rude.

This is my bubble. And I know better than to ignore my gut. This was a wonderful reminder of what I want. And do not want. A reminder that I make my own decisions. Without unnecessary advice. Or influence. This is my story. I can be choosey about who I let in. And that is ok. There are no rules.

So heads up. I am not a bitch. And I am not quiet. I won't waste my time. I will speak if I find it necessary. And have fun when I feel comfortable. No one will put me in a box. Label me. Or force me into their bubble. This is my show. My world. And I will decide.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015


I know I should be excited. Motivated. Energized to move forward. Take the next step. This is what I have been waiting for. Right? I do want to get married. In theory. Be in a relationship. Have someone to come home to. Cuddle with. A Shabbos table. Companionship. Love. Technically. I do want to look at that person and know we will grow old together.


I am finally settled. In myself. Getting there with my life. Internally, I feel strong. Most of the time. I know what I want. I live how I want to live. No one calls the shots. No one controls me. I don't feel controlled. I feel quite free. I am not even shackled in myself. For the first time I can admit that I am breathing. Living. Enjoying.


I have my moments. When I am down. When I see no hope. When I can't move. But I no longer feel defined by those moments. That is all they are. Moments. They are not me. I am finally comfortable. Doing things that make me happy. Productive. Making smart decisions. Living in the present. Working towards the future.


Why would I mess that up. Progress. Is it smart to rock the boat. Will holes appear in the deck? Water start pouring in. Sink. Will I sink all over again. Is this all fear talking. Fear of the unknown. Of difference. Being vulnerable. Opening up. Letting someone in. Am I so closed off from the past. That I cannot move forward. Or am I just cautious. Guarding my heart. My soul. My life.


Sometimes things come up. Life is unpredictable. And you gotta roll with the punches. Or else life passes you by. You blink and you miss something. You can't take a break from reality. You have to face it. Because you never know what you might be capable of.

Here goes nothing.

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

My Country

It's moments like these that make me rethink life. I'm not such a spiritual person. But it is starting to feel like the end of days. Like the end is near. If there is another plan. It feels like it's about to happen. I sit here and think how I am in the wrong place. I shouldn't be here. I should be there. Standing tall with my people. Israelis.

Is it bad that it's not my Jewish pride, rather my Israeli pride that is itching to get out. That is desperate to go. To defend a country I love. A country that is my real home. To wave the flag and wear the colors. Blue and white. And show the world that we can not be defeated. We will not be defeated.

I wish to get on a plane and fly halfway across the world to be in the right place. The place where I belong. To be steeped in the culture. Soaked with the quality and influence of the land. Surrounded by endless beauty. Enveloped in the warmth and palm trees. I yearn to hear the language spoken on every street-corner. Hebrew. To touch the ground. The stone of the old city. I wish to argue with the tomato vendor in the shuk. Machane Yehuda. To smell the aromas of freshly baked rugelach and lachmagine.

The longing overwhelms me. And the anger. The anger towards the rest of the world. The media. Politicians. The average Joe. Who turn a blind eye. Refuse to see the truth. That a country smaller than Rhode Island is under constant attack. Civilian stabbings. Bomb scares. The feeling of chaos. Feeling unsafe. The fear of the unknown. The stench of death in every city. The blood pouring through the drains.

I look around and see indifference. And I wonder. Am I just like these people. Watching my country go down in flames. And not doing anything to stop it. A bystander. What am I doing to make a difference.

Monday, October 12, 2015

Don't Reach Out

Please stop messaging me.
I have turned my life around
Living a positive and productive life
Surrounded by motivating people
Making smart decisions
Trying at least
And I can handle no distractions
I have cut out all the toxic people
Or environments
So I am sorry
I cannot be in your life
I cannot have you in my life
It is not good for me
I know this sounds classic
It's not you, it's me
But it is the truth
I must do what is best for me
No matter the costs
I apologize for my harshness
But you and I both know
That no good will come from this
So please don't reach out to me again
I wish you luck with your life
But it can't be my focus
I have enough on my plate
And that is what I need to to focus on
Thank you for understanding

Friday, September 18, 2015

Organized Chaos

This blog is my diary. I can look back and see the last 5 years documented in ink. Organized chaos. I write when I am angry. Sad. Agitated. Introspective. When there is a big or momentous event coming up. Or passed. It's pretty rare for me to write when things are going ok. Status quo. And there are times like that. When I am managing in this life. Holding shit together. Not sure I would call it happy. Maybe satisfied. Surviving. And that may sound negative. But I (partially) mean it in a positive way.

I write to let things off my chest. Because most of the time I can not share what I really think with others. Choose not to. I write in a blunt manner. Say it how I see it. How I feel. But then there are times I can not be honest. I hide behind the words. Cryptic messages. Beat around the bush. Because even though you don't know me, I am still cautious. Sometimes scared to reveal myself. Rip off that outer layer. For fear of being recognized internally. Apprehensive of the vulnerability.

There are so many unfinished drafts. Of writing. Indicative of real life. The thoughts are there. They come at random times. Driving. In the shower. When I shut off technology for the night. That's when I'll come up with my best thought-processes. Begging to be written down. But somehow, the minute I sit in front of my computer and open the blog option on my phone. The inspiration evaporates. Disappears from my head. As if it was never there. And sometimes, I'll try to write. A sentence here or there. But it's filled with emptiness.

There are topics that I completely avoid writing about. Or I write in code. Sometimes they are places I would rather not dig through. Or situations I cannot analyze. Pretend they don't exist. Harmful or traumatic experiences. You would look at me and feel bad. And I can't bring myself to share.

But in truth I am doing all right. A close friend called me stable the other day. And I realized she was right. I have mainly conquered my demons. Made some smart choices. Leading a good and honest life. My emotions and feelings are under control. And I've realized that loyalty is most important when it is to myself. It's taken me almost thirty years, but I finally put me first. I matter.

It's possible I won't fast on Yom Kippur. I didn't last year. And I feel no guilt. I am doing what's best for me. And not letting religion or guilt dictate my life. Other people no longer control me. Nor does the fear of the unknown. People in the past may have always thought of me as controlling. But in truth, it was me who was controlled. I lived a caged life. Stuck. Hiding. And now I am done. I will live however I choose. In my own comfort zone. With no apologies.

So there.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

secrets secrets are so fun

I have a confession to make
I like secrets
Keeping things to myself
Not sharing with others
Certain others

Sometimes I even lie
To others
To their faces
And I say that I lie to myself
But that is not true
It's false

I am very honest with myself
Totally self-aware
Maybe too much
I know what I am doing
What I am feeling
What I want

I play a part
Wear a mask
A cape
To maintain an illusion
Make the world think one thing
When it is not necessarily true

I make decisions
Lead my life
Without input
Or advice
Without anyone knowing

I am who I am
Despite everything
And everyone
The walls
And blockades
In Spite of it all

Your advice is unwanted
Commentary can be hurtful
Words are unnecessary
Keep your thoughts to yourself
I am not interested
Makes no difference

So cheers to my secret
It is only mine
For me to screw up
Or possibly succeed
It's mine
My Secret

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

A Letter To My Sister

Dear D

I can’t believe that I am actually writing this letter. But here goes. You are finally 18. Finally going to Israel. Taking the next step in your life. You have waited for this for so long. Independence. Freedom.

There’s so much that I could tell you. But I don't really have the words. A long history. We both know. We were always so close. Fighting together. Side by side. Dealing with life. But things happens. And that’s part of life. It’s ok. It makes us stronger. And one day we'll look back and laugh. I know, no one ever likes to hear that but it’s partially true.

I hope you know that you can always count on me. That I'll always be here for you. A phone call away. And now a plane ride away. I'll always worry about you. And care about your wellbeing. I might say things you won’t like. But that’s what big sisters are for. Support. Love. I even pray for you. (And that’s saying something.) I want the best for you. I know you can do it. And I believe in you.

Here is my advice and wish for you:

You gotta believe in yourself…And not let things hold you back…Not your situation…And especially not people…Make sure to always surround yourself with happy people….Who will be a positive influence on you….And that you will be a positive influence on them….Make sure to be a loyal person….And always follow your gut….Your heart….You know what is right….Don’t let the past bring you down…Live in the present….Enjoy every moment….Because it will never happen again….Have a plan for the future….But don’t always wait for the next thing….You’ll miss out on the now….Get a good night sleep….That will make every day so much better…You will be a better, more stable person on a good night’s sleep….It’s ok to miss that late night conversation….Take every moment in Israel (in life) and soak it in….You will never have this opportunity again….Taste every food.…Take every class….Talk to every teacher….Go to every Shabbos experience….And go to a therapist….Tell him/her what you really feel….And work through things….Don’t hold back….This is your opportunity….Your chance….Don’t let it slip by…Before you blink, it will be over….And real life will hit you.

Just remember that you are strong. And kind. And that you can do anything you set your heart to. I will always be rooting for you. I am your big sister.

I love you very much. And I’ll miss you a lot.


Thursday, August 20, 2015

Hugs in the Street

Went for a walk with my dad last night. It was umm nice. We talked about our day. We are able to have basic conversation. Talking about nothing real. I know that he's making an effort and I guess so am I. But is this what a father daughter relationship is supposed to look like. Cordial. On the surface. I tiptoe around him. Hold back. I have this major secret. And I just can't tell him.

I sit here and I think about all the damage caused. The psychological sorrow. The never ending baggage. One line rings in my head. Refuses to be forgotten. "If I don't hug my children, they'll get hugs in the streets." That line has ruined me. A defining moment. Life altering. 

How many poor decisions I've made. Is it coincidence that I've gotten myself involved in compromising situations. Always searching. Trapped in an illusion. Unattainable relationships. Unavailable hearts. Belonging elsewhere. Never to me. For me. 

So now I choose to be alone. Share my heart with no one. Protect myself. The walls go up so no one can penetrate. Because anytime I let them down, I've gotten hurt. Been harmed. Damaged. Betrayed. It's never been about me. Not once. No one has ever chosen me. Not my father and not anyone else. 

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Distorted Religion Part 2

Would you ever park in a handicapped spot without tags
Do you run red lights
Drive through stop signs
Would you you ever hit a parked car and then drive off
How about a hit and run

What color is your shirt
Do you cover your head
Send your children to same-gender private schools
Consider yourself CHOSEN
"A light unto the nations"

Go ahead and leave a nasty message on my voicemail
Or better yet threaten me
Tell me what I am doing is wrong
And that I have a lot to think about
Who the hell do you think you are

I'm very aware that my mother hasn't been home in a year
Thanks for reminding me
And showing me the proper way to be
How to lead my life
You are a fantastic example

Threatening to call my Rabbi
What a move
As if we were playing chess
Trying to knock my piece off the board
When I was never really playing

You think you are representing Orthodoxy
In truth you are constantly distorting reality
This is not the religion that I subscribe to
You pervert the world
Create a nasty image

So make sure that your elbows are hidden
Your collarbone is suffocated by fabric
And not a single hair is showing
Eat only the strictest kashrut possible
And wait the longest possible time after Shabbos

I aspire to be just like you
As you spit in my face
And your husband tramples the Israeli flag
When your child destroys our property
I see where your priorities are

So go ahead and call my Rabbi
He's dealing with life and death
sometimes mine
He really cares about your law breaking
And petty behavior

Please keep calling me
Trying to prove your ways
You may as well hold a pillow over my face
Your suffocating life makes me ill
And I will never be like you

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Family Reunion

Well I did it. I survived the family reunion. And by that I mean a trip to the cemetery. Because that's where our family gets together. Genius, no?

Bubby's Unveiling surprisingly went off without a hitch. No one punched each other. No cruel words. Just us all standing around. In our own little worlds. Remembering the woman who has left us all alone. Who lived a full life.

And yet we all live incomplete lives. No unity. A sad and pathetic family. Complete and constant disappointment.

How I miss you Bubby.

Every time they say that all your descendants are shabbos observant, I cringe. Is that even true. Have I failed you. Do I disrespect you with the fact that I have trouble with believing. Living this lie. That I don't want to be here.

Are you ashamed of me. That I don't like your family. That I feel abandoned. That each one of us is selfish. Living in our unique, or rather suffocating bubble.

Where are you Bubby. You were supposed to be here. Forever.

I desperately wanted to get up by your new stone and say the truth. Tell everyone what they needed to hear. That you would be ashamed of all of us. Our behaviour. Towards each other. You would be crying if you were here.

I miss you daily Bubby. You were the only one that loved me for me. That accepted without judgement. You made me feel like I belong.

But now you are gone. Almost an entire year without you. And I can't get the picture out of my head. Of you laying peacefully in your bed. A lifeless body. Soul departed to a better place. Far away from me. Leaving me alone.

Even your son didn't come. My grandfather. The selfish Patriarch of the family. He can't step out of himself and be there for any of us. So wrapped up in himself. Consumed.

Am I like him? Have I cut out everyone just like him. You don't come to say goodbye to your own mother. What about my mother. Did it ever occur to you that she needs you. That we might need you.

What kind of family is this. Immediate family is a joke. Extended family is a lie. Where is the support. Where is the understanding. You think if you come to the nursing home once a year, you are covered. You have done your due diligence. You plan a party in your own convenience.

Did it occur to you that I have to make her presentable. That we cringe on the inside. That I went to her room and dragged her out of bed. As she continued to grind her teeth. Sleeping with her eyes open. Unaware that I was even there. That I took her to the bathroom and changed her diaper. Brushed her teeth. And then changed her clothes. Put on her cochlears. Awakened her back into this fake world. All to make her look put together. So you would feel comfortable.

And then you sit there and pretend that this family is normal. That all is ok. That we are all functioning. That we are not suffering. Lacking. Dying on the inside. You did your good deed for the day. You showed up. With fake kisses on each cheek. And talked about nonsense.

And then you left and she was devastated. Crying for hours. Probably still crying. Tears of abandonment. Of loss. Of loneliness. As you go back to your real life. Pretending that we are ok. Convinced that it is not your problem. Not your responsibility. Out of sight out of mind.

So thanks for nothing. As usual. We have it under control. This family that doesn't really exist. A figment of imagination.

Thanks for nothing.

Thursday, July 30, 2015


What happens when you drown
When you're drowning 
When you feel nothing 
Total emptiness 
Lack of anything 
No will to live
Given up
Stopped fighting 
Let go
Are letting go
Nothing to hold on to
When you burn your skin 
And feel no pain
Or cut yourself 
And no blood comes out 
When you are bruised all over 
And raw to the core 
When your eyes are bleeding out 
Dream about death 
A funeral 
A different version of hell
Dunk your head in the toilet 
Drive off the bridge 
Smash into a million smithereens 
What happens when you are numb 
Dead to the world 
Dead to yourself 
No will to live 
What happens when you dream
Of nothing 
Die in your sleep 

The end. 


Today is Yom Haatzmaut. Yes, I'm wearing blue and white. Go Israel! Today like every day, I contemplate my life. It's almost my birthday. Another year has flown by. What do I have to show for myself? What have I accomplished?

I feel very stuck. I'm still haunted by the past. Most days I can barely live in the present. I work hard to live in the process. But the now is so difficult. There's not much to keep me going. Every day that I get out of bed is a miracle. I'm stuck.

I'm that soda bottle. All is calm until you shake it. And then you take the top off and fizz explodes everywhere, a lot less soda left. I'm sitting alone in a glass box. There's a key sitting right outside the glass. And yet, I don't make any effort to get out. I don't budge. I know the glass is breakable. I know there's a key right outside of my prison. But I can't move. I am incapable of making things better for myself. I choose to be stuck. I know no other way to function.

Where do I fit in? What is my purpose? Why was I created? What am I doing here? What do I want?

I've created this bubble, this reality. I have solidified my perspective. Manipulated my emotions. I have erased any possible expectations. And I can no longer be disappointed. I don't trust. I move. I do. Function. I am dependable. I am relied upon. I am your friend. Your caretaker. Your parent. Your spouse. I am defined by what you need. I am defined by you. There is no me. I am a figment of your imagination. A shell. I live to serve you.

I am deflated. Mute. I have quit fighting. A prisoner in my own life. Of my own mind.

On this very important day, I feel nothing. I wear the colors. But they mean nothing to me. I am not where I am supposed to be. I am lost. I am lost.

The common denominator

Honestly. Yeah. It's obvious that you don't "get what that means." That I'm the crazy one. And yet, you are insensitive. Constantly insensitive. You have your life and I have mine. Right. And you all wonder why I stay away. Why I don't come around. Why I have secluded myself. Make it about you. So you're always the one who needs to be accommodated. What about everyone else. When do I ever factor in. Does it even occur to you. Have you even noticed me. My life. My lack of life. Do you even know what is happening. What I'm going through. Are you so wrapped up in your own life that you have no room to notice me.

I know I'm blowing this stupid, idiotic thing out of proportion. But it really bothers me. I feel like I'm always cutting people out of my life. And I know that it must be me that's the problem. I'm not delusional to think it's "everyone else." I know it's me. I know that I'm the common thread. The common denominator. I must be the difficult one. The problem. And yet I still feel that I've always been drawn to "difficult" people. That I can only connect with complex and complicated people. Others who have gone through challenges. And those that are basic and uncomplicated don't really last in my world. But then again, the difficult ones end up being pushed out. So who's left. 

I've learned a very important lesson in recent years. One that I wish I would have understood years ago. Friends and maybe even people are not a given. A definite. Forever. They do not last a lifetime. Or better yet, it's ok for them to not last a lifetime. That doesn't necessarily say bad about me. It says it's reality. People change. Situations change. Life happens. And holding on to the past is not the healthiest or wisest thing. It can be damaging. Crippling. So I've let go of a lot people. And for certain individuals, it's caused me a lot of pain and heartache. I've obsessed about it. Had many sleepless nights. Felt very alone. But truthfully, I'd rather be alone than feel drained from others. Maybe that makes me sound depressed or severely introverted. Call it what you like. It's a defense mechanism. It's how I cope with this reality. 

Problem with my way of life is that it's very empty and quiet. It's a self induced loneliness. No one to turn to. Talk to. Or hang out. No one to call me out on my stupidity or hang out with on a carefree day. It's an unwilling choice. I'm the one who limits myself. Creates this world that  I cannot live in or seem to escape from. I've crippled myself. 

It's a few hours before I turn one year older. And as usual, I have this feeling of doom. An underlying emotion of misery. What do I have to show for my life. Another year has passed. Nothing has changed. I have not moved. Haven't budged. Lost more people. Recreated the wall within myself. A blockade. An emotion-free life. No expectations. No feelings. Nothing. An emty shell. 

Happy Nothing-Day.

Dead Calm

Sometimes I wish I was dead. Shhh, don't tell anyone. It makes people uncomfortable. They want to tell you that you shouldn't feel that way. Or that you don't feel that way. They make a joke. Try to lighten the mood. But guess what. This isn't about you. I'm not trying to beat around the bush. I don't need you to tell me to go to my therapist. Or to go on medication. I don't need your answers. Your suggestions. Your opinions. Maybe I need you to listen. To hear me out. Listen to my pain. Maybe I just need to vent. To be. To feel. To share. A shoulder. Did that ever occur to you. Maybe it's ok that I feel this way. Death is not always a bad thing. The worst thing. Maybe it's a relief. A final calm. Eternal peace. Maybe I'm crazy. And no, I'm not suicidal. You don't have to worry. I'm not going to hurt myself. I have no plan. You don't have to jump to conclusions. Relax. I don't need to be watched or even worried about. I'm just telling you that sometimes I wish it was all over. That I was done. Finished. And that's ok. My feelings are valid. You don't have to run from me. Avoid me. Walk on eggshells. I'm going to be ok. I'm strong as always. I put on a good act. Not to worry. You can go on living your meaningless, insensitive life. I'm fine. Thanks for asking.


Sleepless night
Early morning
6:30 am
Phone calls
Blood test results
Underground parking
Building maze
Glass walls
10:30 am
Heart rate 
Med list 
Clean back 
Local anesthetic 
Lumbar puncture 
Lie flat
2 hours 
Blood pressure
Elevated slowly 
Nuclear medicine 
1:30 pm
5 minutes
Bikur Cholim room
Potato bureka
5 year old 
5:00 pm
Repeat images 
Side roads 
6:13 am
Circling hospital 
8:00 am
5:30 pm

I live to serve

Sometimes I just wish for the end. For it all to be over. I see no point. No silver lining. Nothing in the cup. I see nothing. But feel everything. And nothing at the same time. Or maybe too much of everything. I just need a break. I need a breather from all of this. A pain-free moment. To be calm. I'm just done. I'm tired. Very tired. I feel old. Very old. It's enough.

I feel alone. Fighting this constant battle. Alone. No matter how much you try now. It's too late. You can't make up the damage. It's done. I'm scarred. Crippled. Destroyed. My heart is forever broken. Shattered. With no chance of recovery. I will never be ok. I will always be haunted. Damaged. I am damaged goods. Ruined.

Every day that I get out of bed is a miracle. I don't want to do this anymore. I daydream of a funeral. Mine. Who will attend. Who will speak. How miserable everyone will be. It's magnificent. I want everyone to feel pain. Anguish. I want everyone to feel a void. To wonder. How they caused me to end everything. How insensitive they lead their lives. Serves them all right. Everyone deserves what they get. I hope you all suffer.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Distorted Religion

There's something seriously wrong with me. I feel like I can't hold back from saying what I think. Like my filter is completely not there.  And yes I know I rarely use it. But at least normally I am able to bite my tongue. Today, I am just on fire. I can blame this on the side effects of all the meds. That have completely wrecked my body. Or the lack of sleep. The nausea. But truthfully, I am just fed up.

It's people like you who make me hate this religion. Who push me away further and further. How dare you cover your hair. Your husband wears the uniform. Black and white. And yet you continue to look down on me. And then you call me judgemental. What happened to following the laws of the land. Your children are disrespectful and destructive. Your four year old constantly ruins our property. And all you do is laugh it off.

You think because you look the part that you can do whatever you want. It's not only about following god's law. Ever heard of treating others properly. Has that completely fallen off your radar. You think you know what's going on in someone's life. That you can make assumptions. Assessments. But you really have not a single clue. There are things that would make you sob your eyes out. You can't even begin to imagine what happens behind closed doors.

And the sick thing is that you of all people DO know. You have witnessed plenty. You are not new here. And I actually think you are a nice person. But how naive can you be. How can you make such statements. Life is fragile. And you never know what a person is going through. But go ahead. Be all high and mighty in your stockings and wig. Do you think that justifies your behavior. Of those like you. Do you actually think that this is what god had in mind.

How dare you call me judgemental. More like hateful. Disappointed. Let down. You and your kind are on this pedestal. You are supposed to be "chosen". You are supposed to be the pure ones. But instead you corrupt and pollute. Distort this religion. This is not what god intended. Not our tradition. You have created this world of us and them. And it's not ok. I refuse to subscribe to your distorted view. It's not authentic. Count me out.

You are lucky that there are people out there who save face. Who are kind. They don't look at my elbows. Or measure the length of my skirt. Their arms are open. Making this religion manageable for one small second. It's people like them that remind me that not everyone is like you. There is goodness and kindness. Generosity. They are non judgmental. And would never behave or speak the way you do. Their children are positive additions to society. And unlike you, they keep this religion going.

So go about your life. Be all high and mighty. Good luck with that.

Sunday, July 26, 2015


So this is something that I have gone through and I have never talked about it. Or maybe I have told a few people but no one really understands. I've done some bad stuff so this is probably shocking. And I don't even know where to begin but I feel like I need to get this off my chest. 

People talk about how abuse can lead a child or teenager to do bad things. And I've been asked many times by people and by therapists if I was ever abused when they hear my story. I think there's different types of abuse. It's not only about someone touching you or inappropriately forcing themselves on you. We all know that there's such a thing as emotional abuse and verbal abuse. And there is just plain inappropriate behavior that probably wouldn't get a child taken away but will damage that child for the rest of their lives. I'm not making any sense am I? 

You see I've always felt like I was damaged goods. But I knew too much and saw too many things happen that shouldn't have happened. And now I'm talking in circles. I'm pretty good at screwing things up. So I've learned to keep to myself. Shut myself up in my own world. Where no one can penetrate. Or hurt me. I've created these walls as protection. 

Now there have been a few people who broke through the barriers. Who I eventually let in. Maybe they understood me. Maybe they cared about me. But they all hurt me. Used me. I let them use me. Because I am a fool. Sometimes I feel like I'm living one big lie. That the person everyone sees or think they know is a farce. 

I go to an event and all I see is a loving family. I should feel warm and happy. But instead all I feel is empty. Lacking. It makes me sick that they all love each other. Care about each other. That life just seems so unreachable. So totally unrealistic. I can't look at them. Just reminds me what I don't have. 

I really don't want to be this person. I want a fresh start. A new life. Some opportunity would be nice. I'm sick of the  past holding me back. Of people ruining me. Disappointing me. Leaving. Physically and emotionally. Of having that void. In my heart. In my soul. In my body. 

I'm sick of all this shit. Just once I ask for some peace. A break. But no. You just keep striking. Let it go. We get it. It's enough. Just give us a fucking break. How much can a person handle. No more please. I'm begging. Please. 

Thursday, July 23, 2015

ICP Monitoring

You know it's bad when I give in and go to the doctor. Again. The question is do we research the cause of these headaches aggressively? Or continue to "manage" things. I seem to be all talk in front of the neurologist. Confident that I want them to figure this shit out. But when I get home and research the testing they would do, I must admit... It kinda  freaks me out.

Or is it just that I don't want them shaving part of my head. My hair is finally so beautiful and long. Do I sound crazy? Or the fact that I have no one to talk to about this. Or better yet, wouldn't tell anyone that I would be in Hopkins for three days with a catheter in my head. I know I can't blame people if they don't know. But the truth is I'm sad and I'm in pain. Yes, even strong, obnoxious me needs someone right now.  Someone to talk this through. Someone to hold my hand. Tell me everything will be ok and that this is the right step.

To help with my diagnosis. Am I in remission or not? Are these low pressure headaches? Cluster headaches? Migraines? Or is it just my occipital neuralgia? Maybe my shunt is draining too much. Or maybe I've just convinced myself in the shower that I'm being paranoid. It's the summer. I always feel sick in the summer. This will pass, come cooler weather. Or that I'm not taking care of myself. I'm stressed. I have trouble with food. With sleep. And all these things are affecting me. Causing my head to feel like an explosion will go off anytime I laugh, cough or sneeze. Totally normal, right? Or how about the nausea and the acid reflux. Do I sound attractive yet?

So you know what I do to make my life better? I went cold turkey. Stopped all my pills. I told the doctor that I have had enough. I need relief. I have always believed that quality of life is better than quantity. And no, don't assume that this is me being suicidal. I'm trying here. Get it? This is me making an effort. I do want to feel better. Even if there is no one around. No one that really notices me.

Side point, I finally did something good. And again, I told no one. Because that's me. Ms secretive. Living a silent life. But you know what? Fuck you all! I'm going to stress about this and figure it out on my own. Just like I always have. And when I figure it out. I'm going to make my own decision. And no one one will tell me what to do. And then I will make something of myself. And I will never look back.

Don't you love how I'm all talk. Now you know the truth. I'm one big fraud.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

F....enough with the yiddish names

How horrible is it that I'm jealous. I only met you once. We hung out at a bar in the city years ago. A lifetime ago. I wasn't such a fan. But then again, how many people do I really like. That doesn't say anything about you. Probably says more about me.

I'm envious of your bravery. The fact that your plan worked. You showed everyone. You no longer have to face your demons. It is the world who has to now look for answers. Pretend to understand what your life was about. Everyone else feels pain now. You are finally pain free. Don't people get that. You are free.

Is it terrible that I am happy for you. Envious of you. Wish I was as brave as you. Wish I could take that final leap. Never look back. People can talk about how you were at the peak of your life. Making a difference. Doing so well. Yada Yada. What do they really know. No one understands. No one knows what's going on deep on the inside. The outside is one big facade. You put a face on so that people can be around you. But maybe you can't be around them.

Maybe you survived just the right amount. Maybe some people aren't meant to live a long full life. Maybe some of us have already lived too long. Does anyone ever consider that. Sometimes, a long life is not in the cards. Not desired. Not something to aspire to. Some of us live day by day. Hour by hour. Minute to minute. Every day that we wake up is a miracle. Is torturous to get up and face the day. Face the world. Because you don't belong. You don't want to be there.

So to you, I say congratulations. On finally graduating. From this life. From this world. From your misery. To everyone else. I will continue to say. You have no idea. No idea what a person is. What they are made up of. Who they really are. Don't try to understand after the fact. It's too late. You can look for answers. Try to place blame. But the blame should be internal.

Life is not for everyone.

Saturday, July 18, 2015


Once again it's July 18. This dreaded cursed day comes around every year. Taunting me. Haunting me. The details are slightly vague but the memories are there. They beat alongside my heart. Pulsating in my brain forever. Refusing to let me forget this day. I take a sleeping pill  but I couldn't sleep a full 24 hours. No chance at ignoring this crapday. No meals planned. No people to talk to. No family around. Alone as usual. Because that is my destiny. That is the life that I lead. The life of a nomad. Vanishing slowly. Day by day.

Friday, July 17, 2015


Why are you driving so god damn slow.
Head is going to explode all over your windshield.
Sometimes I wonder why thoughts only come to me while I'm driving. The windows are down and the music is loud and my hair is blowing in the wind. My mind just wanders and I can't stop thinking. Did I mentioned the my head is going to explode. Do you ever drive and think you're just going to crash. Drive over a bridge and land in the water. Do you ever imagine your own funeral. Does that make me crazy. Don't answer that. 
The pain just doesn't end. There is no relief. No sleep allowed. Pain from here til tomorrow. Random daydreams. Or are they night dreams. Because they happen at night. Sitting on a roof. With someone you don't want to be with. In a glass room that should be covered. With wall to wall newspaper clippings. But you are exposed. Doors everywhere. People walking in and out. No privacy. And you are waiting. No one gets you. They still don't get you. You have closed yourself in. Ostracized yourself. And you don't even care. Random people walk by in your dream. And they all wave. Some stare. And you could care less. You know what you are doing is wrong.
Anything to avoid the pain. You are sweating. Your sheets are wet. Your hair is tangled. Because everything hurts. There is no relief. Go to the emergency room. How will that even help. It's all in your head. You are one big crazy. You want it all to end. Pills. Overdose. You could go in many ways. Blood everywhere. It could be epic. But no one would appreciate it. Not as much as you. Only you would feel relief. Or even joy.
Admitted. Committed. Take me. Free me. Release me. Unleash me.
You win.

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Pseudo means FAKE

It's too good to be true
You don't see what's under the surface
Don't look at me
And think you see me
All I want is to disappear
Crawl under my covers
The fan blowing
Someone take a knife
And make a nice incision
In my eyes
To let out all the pressure
So I can feel some relief
A pain free moment
Fluid free lifetime
I need a breather
Just one second
To myself
You ask me what's wrong
But you're not even listening
Don't even care
Can't understand
It's because I am ultimately alone
I struggle through all this on my own
Always by myself
My own problem
It's all under the radar
Because you can't see this disease
There are no outward symptoms
Therefore it means nothing to you
It's fake
I fight alone
So I appear grumpy
Or depressed
Did you ever wonder if maybe I was in constant pain
That my eyes feel like they are flooding
My head might just explode
That basic conversation is so difficult
Friendships are a waste of time
That I am ruining everything
I just need someone to hold me
Take care of me
Call my doctor
Make everything ok
Hold my hair while I throw up
I need someone to drill a nice little hole
Let out the pressure in my back
In a little cord
All the fluid can come pouring out
Did it ever occur to you
That I might need

PS. This is a joke.

Wednesday, June 24, 2015


Had the most fabulous 24 hours.

Left work. Accident didn't bother me. Drove into a raging storm. Couldn't see in front of me. Rain was pelting at my windshield. Hailing. Cars were pulled over to the side of the road. Tree branches falling on the highway. My GPS died. But I didn't care. I just kept driving. Heading towards my destination. Knowing that it would be worth it. 

Driving into Atlantic City was thrilling. Seeing all the hotels. The lights. Shining through the fog. The grey sky. Parking in Bally's hotel parking lot. Walking through the casino. Bright lights everywhere. Gamblers all around. I finally made it to the 38th floor and saw my friend. We haven't seen in each other in three years. We hung out in the room for a while. Ate. Changed clothes. Some makeup. Cat-eyes.

Gambling isn't my thing. But watching all the people throw away money is quite fascinating. I see why it's addicting. R gambled so we got free drinks. Cranberry vodka for me. It was so freeing to drink. No responsibilities. No car to drive home. Letting go. Unwinding. She gambled while we waited for the club to open in Caesar's. 

The club was pretty empty when we got there. Fine with me. I've been desperate to dance. Itching to move my body. For so long. No one ever wants to go with me. Second cranberry and vodka. Little cranberry. Lots vodka. Dancing like there's no tomorrow. Tipsy. Music blasting. Hot as hell. Club starts filling up. Moving. Shaking. Dancing. Feeling. One with the music. Fireball whiskey. Shot number one. Sweating. Hands in the air. Music is life. Music is soul. Fireball whiskey. Shot number two. Drunk. Dancing. 

This morning. We sat by the beach. Right outside the hotel. It was amazing. Talking about life. Hardship. Reality. In the sun. People watching. Trying not to get attacked by seagulls. Feet in the water. Sand. Writing. Reading magazines. Chatting about nonsense. Talking serious. Living in the moment. Summer of me. Indulging. Friendship. 

It was time to end our awesome day together. Driving today was so amazing. The weather was so beautiful. Total difference from yesterday. Perfection. Windows down. Music blasting. Sunglasses. Singing at the top of my lungs. Tanning my arms. Was probably the most relaxing drive. I really needed that time on my own to just breathe. Speeding down the highway. Not a care in the world. 

This is exactly what I needed. Indulging. Taking care of my inner child. Release. Breathing. 

Sunday, June 21, 2015


I hate everything about this day. I hate that there's a set day set aside for you. You make it impossible to move forward. What happened in your life to make you this way. To cause you to act this way. Why do you continue to hurt me. Do you even realize how your actions affect others. Do you know I bought you four cards. One for every one of the rest of the family members. That I do that for every occasion. But I didn't give any of them to you. Because you make me feel like dirt. Like shit. Like I'm worthless. You went out to eat by yourself? What is that. Do you even notice who you have become. Who you have always been. That you are completely alone. That we are all completely alone. That we are all in different zip codes. Are you aware of that. Is that the reason you are miserable. That you treat me like shit. Do you notice. Do you care. Is this what you wanted for your life. For mine. Did you have any goals. Aspirations. Do you realize how you've damaged and hurt me. Us. Do you care. Or are you just tuned out. Is this why I am alone. Afraid to trust. Open up. Let anyone in. Because you've ruined me. You've chipped away at my core. My soul. Day after day. Year after year.

Here's to another Fucking Father's Day. 

Tuesday, June 9, 2015


I feel like shit.
Two posts in one day is not my style.
I like to be more mysterious.
But now I just don't care.
There's no one to talk to.
No one who knows.
No one who understands.
I put myself in this situation.
I cause my own pain.
It's always my own damn fault.
And now I need to get my act together.
Put on a brave face.
Pretend like everything is ok.
Like my fingers aren't shaking.
My mind isn't twitching.
There's no pit in my stomach.
That I don't feel ill.
For my own stupidity.
My own idiocy.
But this is what I get.
What I deserve.
For being a fool.
For following blindly.
I am an idiot.
A fool.
I deserve everything that happens to me.
I get what I ask for.
What's one more time.

Bring it on.

i wish...

Well that was disappointing
I shouldn't have waited
Never had expectations
Wish we had never been introduced
You had never reached out
Not the first time
And especially not the second
I wish I had been strong
Made smarter decisions
Followed my brain
And not my heart
Never let you in
I wish I had never exposed myself
Been vulnerable
Made me laugh
Or smile
I wish you didn't know me
Understand me
Leave me
I wish this wasn't so painful
That you weren't gentle
And kind
That you didn't listen
Or critique when necessary
I wish you didn't call me out
Or look at me like that
With those eyes
Like you know me
I wish I had never met you
Touched you
Felt you
That day
I wish for many things
But most of all
I wish I could forget

Saturday, June 6, 2015

Big Brown Eyes

I hesitate to go into her room 
I don't want to wake her
But I want to bring her clothes into her room 
Make sure she is ready for tomorrow
The lights are off 
She is still awake 
She looks at me with those big brown eyes
She is snuggled in her blanket 
I check to make sure she is not wet 
Give her lots of kisses
She smiles at me 
I Choose her clothes for the next day 
A matching grey outfit 
Cute little shoes 
Place them at the end of her bed
Quietly close her dresser 
I get into bed with her 
As she curls into my arms 
Her tiny body barely taking any space 
She looks at me once more and smiles 
Her long eyelashes flutter 
And she drifts off into a deep sleep 
As I hold her tight in my arms 
I am grateful 
She is my mother 

Friday, June 5, 2015

A letter

Going cold turkey
Day by day 
Step by step 
Moving forward 
No more
Miss that 
Letting go
Being myself 

No goodbyes. 

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Don't bother Reading this - it's about someone else

Sometimes I feel like I'm sinking. Like there's no floor. Like my head is in a fuzz. I wonder if it's my actual depression taking over. Taking control. Or is it just my head hurting. Should I feel like crap all the time. Is it my own doing. Not sleeping. Should I be miserable all the time. Feel like a ticking time bomb. About to go off any minute. Am I this person. Was I always this way.

I don't like it when you look at me like that. When you think I'm pathetic. That my life is so sad. Don't ask me for a hug. You don't know me. You see this outside persona. A controlled being. Yes, I come off as strong-willed. But it's all a show. I'm not real. I hide. It's how I survive. I function. You think I need to be mothered. Well, no duh. Maybe I should self-mother. What a load of crap.

I judged you. I always judge you. You have destroyed. Who are you. Am I just like you. A bad person. Hurting people. Ruining lives. Just like you. Everything you touch. You destroy. You used me. You use everyone. You are selfish. You made me distrust. And now where are you. Why do you have space in my brain. Why do you continue to live life. While mine is always on pause. Continuously on hold. How can I still blame you. Think about you. When you are the past.

It was too much. Drama. And I know I am one to talk. But I couldn't carry your burdens. Your emotional baggage. I care. I'm sorry. Your life was too complicated. I needed space. You didn't understand. My depression. I had to hide. That's not a friendship. I care. I am hypocrite. But I come first.

You live your life. You have a life. I was just a glimpse. Momentary. A friend. Intense. But now what. Everyone leaves. Always. There's no point. Where is the decency. Where is the justice. Don't bother. The TV is my real friend. You were just a facade. I never needed anyone. Vulnerability is dangerous. It opens you. To pain. To sadness. To rawness. To feel.

You don't occupy space in my head. You don't matter. Not at all. I am free. Completely.

Seriously. Like I said. Don't bother Reading this.
Any similarity to someone you know is just a coincidence.
Move along.

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Meaningless Milestone

I'm numb. No I'm not. I feel. No I don't. I'm crazy. No I'm Not. My mind is spinning. No it's not. I need to be held. No I don't. I need be touched. No I don't. I need to be wanted. No I don't. I am in control. No I'm not. I'm happy. No I'm not. I need. No I don't. I wish to be numb. No I don't. Yes I do.

I sit here and wish I could formulate my thoughts. My feelings. I wish I could let out what is dragging me down. Why I feel so deflated. What is going through my mind. Why I feel so drained. Is it just another meaningless milestone. Is that what this feeling is. A momentary feeling. One that will pass. Will I be fine in a few days. Or is this just my usual. Up and down. Realizing my reality. Life hitting me in the face. Internal emptiness. Eternal sadness.

Why can't I verbalize the truth. Why can't I admit it to myself. Say it out loud. What I want. What I need. Deserve. Who I am. Why do I put myself in this box. In this cage. Why am I alone. Right now. Tonight. Right this minute. I put myself here. I have no one to blame but myself.

Where is the inspiration. Where are the people. I know they are there. I know they care. But I feel so removed. Distant. I am floating away. Another year. Another day. Emptiness.

I want to feel. I want to feel. Everything. Something. Love. All of it. I want to smell. The world. See. The beauty. Touch.  I want to be. Taste. Life. Every drop. I don't want to miss any of it. I don't want to be numb. Not anymore. I want to be. To feel. Open. To the world. To life, To Love. To opportunity. I want. I need. I want.

And that's ok.

Here's to another year.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

Empty Tears

The tears. They are tears that don't come often. They hide inside. Refuse to leave their post.

You were supposed to protect me. Supposed to love me forever. Never supposed to leave my side. You were supposed to be my best friend. To love me. Forever. You were supposed to keep me. To hold me and never let go. You were supposed to please me. You had one job. To love me. To see only me. As your one and only.

But you forgot. You forgot about our love. You forgot about me. You got distracted. You chose your religion. You saw my pain. You saw me cry. You knew how much I hurt. But you chose your religion. Every single time. Your empty religion. Empty words. Swaying back and forth. No meaning. All by rote. Because it's all you knew. You couldn't think for yourself. You couldn't choose me. You chose your shell instead.

I was in the goddamn hospital for ten days. You thought I was going to die. How could you not hold my hand. How could you not comfort me. I was dying. I had no family. You were supposed to be my family. My support. My anchor. So you said tehillim. I needed your hand. I needed your love. Not for you to be the hero. Where were you. I needed you to hold me. So what if I was a fucking niddah. Do you think it was right for me to call the rabbi and beg him. To tell you to hold my hand. Is that how life is supposed to be. Is that what my life should look like. Is that the life I signed up for.

Do you think about me. Do you realize that you have damaged me. As you live your pretty little life. In your pretty little house.

How could let me go through that day. Have a friend scrub me in the shower. To get off all the hospital markings. As I throw up all over myself. Throwing up my pills. And then your goddamn mother comes to pick me up. Do you not feel guilty. Not at all. Or have you conveniently forgotten. And then your mother let me lay on the floor and all those women commented how cute it was that she brought me with her to work. Or how about when she helped me get undressed. Or how about when your mother walked me down the steps and helped me dunk in the goddamn water. Do you know what that does to a person. She let me dunk once. Because I was too sick to dunk more than once. And then she dressed me. There you were. Fucking waiting outside the side door with a wheelchair to wheel me home. As I throw up outside the shul. For all the men to see this pathetic woman in a wheelchair throwing up.

Do you think about that night. How I went to the mikvah sick as a dog just so you would take care of me. Does that sit with you. Did it ruin your life. Or did you forget. Did you move on. And then you threw me away. I let my soul go. I let it fly away. You watched it shrivel. And then you stepped on it. And you did all in the name of religion. A religion I don't subscribe to. No thank you. You can keep it.

And now what. I'm supposed to just move on. Forget. Live. Keep moving. Keep plugging away at this life. Where are those tears. Where is that religion. Why is the emptiness always there. Let the soul back in.

Not so easy.

Thursday, May 7, 2015


A cloud that follows you around. Daily. Hourly. Minute after minute. Refuses to abandon its post. It has been assigned to you since birth. Been very loyal. More loyal than most. The cloud follows you wherever you go. Never far behind. A cloud filled with sawdust. Filled with blood. Sometimes you think you've managed to escape. To hide. That you've managed to dodge the cloud. But it always, always finds you. Never gives you a breather. The cloud always finds you. Trails right behind you. If not immediately above you. Sometimes the cloud drifts far away. Sometimes it leaves for a long time. But the cloud always finds it's way back. The cloud will never leave. The cloud is constant. The cloud is reality.

The cloud is my comfort zone. It's my security blanket. I don't know how to live without it. I am naked when it leaves me. I am cold and alone without it. The truth is, I am vulnerable. That is my confession. And that is something most people will never hear me say. I am not that strong person everyone sees. That wall you all see was built to protect myself. From all the pain and heartache. The constant disappointment. Letdowns. The sadness. For the little girl who had no parents. Who had no love. Who now spends her life trying to pick up the pieces. Who spent her life being an extrovert and finally came to terms with reality that she was really an introvert. I am just a little girl. Stuck in a woman's body. Learning how to navigate this life. This world. With this cloud over my head. 

Tuesday, April 28, 2015


Why is it that I did so many good things today and I still feel like crap.
How can someone else's good fortune make me feel so down.
I know that you have every right for your life to move forward.
That you do not owe me anything.
But seriously.
Can't a girl catch a break.
At least I got what I asked for.
At least God answered my prayers.
Is that evil.
Is that wrong.
I know that I am busy and that I should focus on that.
But some times things are difficult.
No matter how long you know things are happening.
And no matter how long you think you are prepared.
You never are.
It always hits you in the gut.
You can smile.
And make jokes.
And post funny or sarcastic posts.
But it hurts.
Your eyes water.
And its not just because you are tired.
Not just because of that terrible pain in the back of your head.
It's that throbbing in your soul.
That sadness that you've brushed under the rug ages ago.
All of a sudden.
But you can't find tears.
They've all run out.
Ages ago.
You are a dried well.
In every way.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Sin and All

Should we really feel bad that we haven't spoken to you.

You go on and live your life. Sin and all. 

I've managed to forget a lot. Put most things out of my mind. Move forward. But sometimes you manage to show up in my dreams. And I find that unfair. Why do I give you space in my head. Why is there still a place for you in my mind. 

Why are you living this life that I want. That I deserve. Why does god reward bad people. What about all those people you hurt in the process. What about the lives you stepped on and destroyed. Left to rot in the mud. How do you live with yourself. Look in the mirror. Face yourself each day. Do you still hate yourself. 

Ok. You don't control me anymore.

Back to letting go. 

Tuesday, January 6, 2015


my brain hurts
the whole front of my face hurts
i cant keep food down
im doing fine
i wish i was dead
out of my misery
nicholas sparks separated from his wife
when you say you are going to drop off soup
and someone else does
it hurts
lying on the couch
in the freezing cold
i cant do this anymore
why are people so stupid
just shoot me
i cant function
i wish to be
pain free