Saturday, March 17, 2012


The middle of March is always a reflective time for me.  If I've successfully created a separate page, following this link will lead you to a chapter I wrote a long time ago about what was going on sixteen years ago - back before Buzz Kill was Buzz Kill and Velvet had no nicknames at all.
Some people who know me find this story too intense - but then a lot of people find me too intense entirely.  I made a separate page so I can leave it up or take it down as I choose, and because it's much too long for a blog post.

I'm sensitive today, and glad I am alone - but I'm also glad I chose to live when another choice was tantalizingly within reach.  Sometimes I call this story A Mother's Tale but I really don't know what to call it.  It's just my story, and this stuff about suicidal tendencies and the looney bin is part of it.

Link to Windy Hill

I have to say, though, that there's something very life affirming about deciding to live instead of simply finding yourself alive and then going through the motions of a life without much thought - like painting a picture by numbers.  I'm pretty sure it's a Thing of Beauty (#49-101) that I chose to live and do the work that was necessary to become the generally happy camper I am today.  It's one thing to choose to live, but without doing the work, I would have stayed a depressed housewife, overeating to smother my anger and making everyone around me as miserable as I was myself.  It took a number of years, but it looks like most days in my happy little world, this little light of mine shines as brightly as it can.

I also have to say that blogging has alleviated the isolation and alienation that goes along with the Depression territory, and once I started feeling like I was Understood out here in the ether, I began to feel more connected to people in real life.  Once you get that connection going, it's easy to build a happy world for yourself - even though sometimes those assholes on C Street, and ALEC and AIPAC and the Uniparty and all that bullshit intrudes in ways that disturb the inner peace.

The main thing is that I'm okay - thriving even - and I'm grateful that all y'all are out there.


Oso said...

I'm glad you're ok Trish, I know ok is relative but I guess I'm saying I'm very glad you're here.

I used to get those urges occasionally when I was drinking, but they were a kind of despondency remedied by more booze and reds.My stays were in Long Beach General a couple times, Camarillo - all in alcohol wards and oddly, all mostly fond memories, the fondest being a load of stelazine shot into me at Harbor General prior to catching some sort of shuttle to general - I have memories of it being in the back of a jeep but I'm sure that was just the effects of the drug, which was absolutely heavenly.
I make light of the situation because I'm years removed, I imagine it's like that for you. All except for the stelazine which was heavenly.

PENolan said...

In many ways, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It was at Four Winds that I learned we're all connected, and now that I've been traveling a more spiritual path, the connection I started feeling then has helped me see that we are indeed all One.

I could go off on a tangent about Newt Gingrich - but the thing is that Newt and all those other fear mongering haters work very hard to feel separate and distinct, and when We The People buy into that shit, we're alienated from each other and conveniently unable to connect again in order to stand up to The Owners. Nevertheless, I feel more comfortable without having to include Newt, Frothy and their followers among my "connections"
So much for raising the global consciousness . . .

It's funny how mental wards can be comforting though. We had the best time playing Monopoly. But that's another chapter ;)

Vancouver Voyeur said...

I made that choice 19 years ago in Vancouver, BC. I will go back there next year for my 50th birthday and an affirmation celebration with friends. I've been "being there" for a friend lately who struggles with depression and trying to get the cocktail of meds just right so she can function. I have such a different perspective on life having come through what I did. I'm glad you made that choice too.

PENolan said...

Back at cha! V.V.
and what a great way to celebrate your 50th birthday. Looking forward to saying "L'chiam" with you next week

Woody (Tokin Librul/Rogue Scholar/ Helluvafella!) said...

I had a moment like that, I think, when I decided to do the thing it was I did that landed me in jail looking at hard time. Luckily got bailed out. Mebbe not somebody less "me" than I was/am (and not necessarily in a good way). I barely MISSED a murderous disaster at the prison the'da sent me to, if they'd a sent me to prison, But they dind't...whew, hunh?

Cali said...

I've just finished reading both this entry and the linked page about Four Winds/Windy Hill. I'd be VERY interested in reading that story in a more "fleshed-out," book format. I'd even pre-order that, and I'm not an Amazon pre-order fanatic. In fact, I've never pre-ordered a book in my life, but I would DEFINITELY make an exception for that book! I think I have a better grasp on why Buzzkill had that clause put in your divorce settlement that disallows use of his last name on any published works. First, I think he has a "famous" last name, but mostly I think it's because he doesn't want casual readers to know that he's the real Buzzkill. He knows that a book about how you got to where you are now could (and probably WOULD) be a best seller.

Our life stories certainly have some intersecting themes, but are also very different. Believe it or not, I've actually thought about registering for that "CBS Cares" contest that flies the winner to NYC for a colonoscopy, just so I could meet you. (I'd like to meet Joe Jervis of Joe. My. God. fame, but he's probably too busy/too gay and I'm way too female and not famous or "fabulous" in any way, so he probably wouldn't be interested.)

BTW, you might find this interesting: Even though I know exactly what you look like, and have even seen videos of you from time to time, when I read stories about your life, for some reason, in my head at least, you are always Cybill Shepherd as she was in her sitcom Cybil. Always. Yes, I realize she's not a Texan IRL, but a Tennessee girl. Still, I always picture you as a tall, willowy blonde. When you finally DO write that book, you can get whoever you want to play you in the movie. Cybill's too old, and always has been.

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