rock bottom

i don't know what to say.  how strange.  unusual for me, to find myself at a lack for words…

i had just left my husband, or was soon going to.  i hadn't slept in six months, not more than an hour or two at a time every now and then.  the nightmares were too scary.  i was afriad to go to sleep.  my spirit guides were screaming at me, but i wouldn't listen to them.  i had bleeding ulcers and migraine headaches, too.  i was a wreck.

anyway, it doesn't matter, not really.  that drunk guy, his suitcase was full of record albums.  he said he was some kind of musician, a rapper.  i remember we talked about that a while.  we talked about Vanilla Ice, and how he really fucked up by trying to hard to be something he was not.  we talked about how the record executives wanted to promote a certain image, but the fans don't respect that, they tore him apart because he wasn't real.  we talked about being true to who you are, not what other people want you to be.

well,  you know, the good thing about rock bottom is that there's nowhere left to go but up.

it gets difficult to talk about it, because it wasn't the very long conversation and all the words we shared that really mattered, not at the time anyway.  it was having someone i could talk to, didn't care what he thought about any of it, so i didn't hold back.  and that tatoo he had, said “PAUL”  that what really got me.

okay some more background information. 
my ex was an out-of-work alcoholic.  i was supporting myself, him, and his addiction on what tips i got.  many of our regular customers were dying of liver failure.  i was watching my husband, whom i did truly love very much, i was watching him slowly kill himself with alcohol and anorexia.

at this same time, my father learned that his HIV had become full-blown AIDS.  Lots of stuff going on in my life at the time.  Lots of painful lessons to learn….  i was truly in a state.

when you rely upon tips to pay your bills, you must always wear a smile.  it's part of the job description.

that was a great job!  i worked for the lady that owned the place, Jewel, instead of some impersonal corporation.  she was good people.  as down-home as southern can get.  she paid me cash money for the hours i worked, each day when i left.  and i got to keep all my tips, she never even asked how much i got.  i got to eat free, anything they served there.  there were many days i wouldn't have eaten anything but for the free food i got at work.

i could smoke all i wanted, talk all i wanted, eat all i wanted, and all i had to do was fetch beers for people.  not bad.

so Bobby, that was his name, he looked at me with so much pain in his eyes, and he asked me, “do you believe in God?”

…that one question changed my whole fucking life.

i guess i needed reminded.  i don't know.  i am not even sure what i said to him.  he was looking for something that i had and didn't want, a religious experience.  so i shared with him mine.  but instead of thinking i was insane, like everyone else always did when i tried to talk about those things, he believed me!  it was apparently what we both needed at the time, he needed to hear it, and i needed to say it (and to be heard instead of ridiculed for it).

alrighty…  going off on a tangent now, this is my damn blog and i'll take it where i want!  hahahaha

this is what really irks me.  especially here at gaia, where people talk about these things like it's wonderful and good, where so many people are seeking so hard to experience the same things that in my life have caused me more pain and alienated me from other people more than anything else.

people only think they want to have visions and speak with spirit.  they don't really.  they have no clue how horrible that can be, when your loved ones look at you with eyes full of pity, feel sorry for the crazy girl.  that really sucks.  or when they ask for your help, and spit it back in your face as though you are trying to make them swallow poison.

people are afraid to hear truth.  terrified of it.  because their lives are built upon lies.  they don't really want to know.

when Truth hits you over the head, it's a ton of bricks.  the universe implodes on itself.  time ceases to exist.  it's not just the stuff we want to label “good”

religions invented good versus evil.  the ruling elite invented ALL religions (or at least took over control of them once it appeared people might follow, as was the case with scientology, which originally was a freakin' joke and people somehow wanted to take it seriously…).  religious leaders (who are not leaders, but rulers, there is a difference) would have you deny half of the experience because it has been labeled as being “bad” by the same system of lies that controls nearly all aspects of our lives in “civilized” society.

this division is a false distinction!!  good and bad are judgments we make about the experience, not qualities inherent in anything real.  we perceive the distinction because that is our education, we are taught these things, we are threatened with horrible consequences, punishments, if we so much as question what we have been taught….

okay then.  back to the story…
so i told him about the experiences i had, what i perceived at the time as angels coming to me.  most likely i told him of one particular experience, when i had given up all hope and just wanted to stop living.  that's the time the Mother Goddess came.  She's real big.  i perceive Her to be very very bright light, but everything goes black when she's near, can't see.  and she's real big.  i grabbed her hand, and each finger was as big around as my wrist!  and this is just my perception of a truly indescribable experience, and i know other people perceive things different.  and i can't really talk about that experience without giving all the background information, put it all into context.  and that is such big pain…  i can't share that with just anyone.  but i had this experience, not just one time, and other such indescribable experiences that were totally different from that.  and sometimes somebody comes along at just the right time needing to hear about it, at just the right time when i need reminded of it, that there is something else, some reason we are here.

i keep thinking i'm finished.  it's the story that never ends!  LOL

so,  yeah, he wrote that song that day.  no, JenJen, it's not representative of his music.  he told me he wouldn't be able to use it until sometime later, that it wouldn't fit in with any of his current works at the time.  and i forgot all about it (until i saw that tattoo in a music video).  i never really cared for his style of music, just not my thing.  but PAUL likes his stuff and had asked for Rock and Roll Jesus, for his birthday, it might have been.  anyway, it's one of my favorite cd's right now, and i'm even starting to listen to some of his other stuff, too.  ain't it strange?

it doesn't matter what anyone thinks.  the tattoo is proof of nothing.  it meant a lot to me at the time, had a very personal meaning, to me, regarding the man who is now my husband, but at the time he was just a friend.  and it is what reminded me about all this.  who fucking knows?  maybe there was some other white guy named Bobby from michigan, i think he was from, doing the rap dj thing, and wrote the same song that kid rock recorded…  yeah, that makes a lot of sense…  NOT

i told him something else that day.  i told him i'd see him again sometime.  i still believe it will happen.  i just don't know when.  everybody thinks i'm crazy…. hahaha

oh…  what happened was he put the song in an envelope and mailed it to himself.  boss made him leave, since i wasn't selling him beer.  she said he came back down there looking for me, but he was already gone when i got there.  i left greg.  got with paul.  and the rest is history…  but the story ain't over yet.  :-)