nobody's coming

I've waited and wished

Begged and thrown fits

Sent psychic beams 

Still Noone comes for me

I've charmed and seduced

Blushed and refused

Let them all loose 

And Noone comes for me

What hasn't been tried?

Do you have some advice?

It hurts me inside

That Noone comes for me

If there's something to change

Some lesson,  some page

Some turn of some phrase

Would someone come for me?

Can't help but to wait

No matter how late

Maybe today

Someone will come for me. 

eviction and tarot

I'm a fucking wreck.  

I didn't mean for this to get this far.  

It's all my fault.  I don't know where I'm gonna go to bed Monday night.

I don't want to keep fighting for a house we don't take care of and we can't afford.

I have to start packing soon.

At least I read good for the people.

I'm a wreck.  I'm so sorry.

gratitude 9/5/23

I got to talk to Uncle Scott

I sold a piano

I got to talk to Adam

I helped Emmy

I helped Ruby, Sonny, Wiggles, Lita and Kitty

I got to talk to Amanda

I got to talk to my brunch buddy

I got to talk with Jeremy

I got to talk with Dougie

I got to talk to Ter-bear

I sang dad's song for uncle Scott

I showered and dressed

I wore makeup

I'm working

I'm pushing 

I'm willing 

I am being encouraged and supported

I did this.

Struggles and Fears

What would it be like to be free from internal struggles and fears?  I don't know.  

I want to free myself.  I know it's up to me.  If only that knowledge was the key.  

Fear, fucking fear.  Fear of anything, everything, nothing, whatever.

Struggling.  Why do I find comfort in struggling and Fear?  What the fuck is wrong with me?

Enough.

stuck

I have too much to do.  

So many things, all at once.

I shut down.  I hide.  I doom scroll and sleep and drink.

I need to believe in myself/my work again. 

So many good people are supporting my work.  

Telling me, "get back up!".

They'd do anything for me.

I wish I would.

I'm scared.

So many things have hurt.  So many lives I've built and burned.

Fuck.

It's hard to get back up again.  I'm so tired.

Please help me.  

What am I supposed to do?

What work is for me?

Help me find my place again.  Help me be useful again.  Help me do good again.

I'm so tired.  

Please pick me up, dust me off, and put me in the game again.

Struggling is real.

just the worst

I must be the worst person in the world.

I can't even stand myself anymore.

Everyone I love tells me I suck and I can't have the love I want because I suck.

I'm sorry.

I don't know what to do to get the love I really wish I had. 

I wish I could exit.  Fucking Betsy.

I want to go home.  I don't know how to play the game.  I never win.  I want to go home.  

I'm sorry.

Please, let me go home now.

Celebrate Diversity

Celebrating diversity seems to have driven us farther from embracing unity.  The more we celebrate our struggles, the more those struggle will be perceived and continued. 

Where does it end?  We have pride month, where I should be ashamed to be a straight woman.  We have black history month, where I should be ashamed to be a white woman.  We make such a fuss.  Here's the problem for me.

When is women's month?   We only got the right to vote just over 100 years ago.  We still didn't have the right to own property in many states, and under various conditions after that.  Our husband's could have us committed until at least 60 years ago.  I don't even want to go into the latest messes.  But, yet, no month.

Where is single mother's month?  Talk about overcoming the damage of the white man... or even yet, single father's month?

What about Native People's month?  Like they don't deserve recognition for being fucking slaughtered and destroying their culture.

How about Asian American's month?  Umm... same.

What about firefighters month?  Or first-responder's month?

How about doctor's and nurse's month?

What about executioners month?

Where can we find room for evangelist's month?  Next to white supremicist's month?  Or just after Jewish People's month?  

How about sex-workers month?  Or road workers month?  When can we squeeze in a month to celebrate our modern boot leggers?

A month for cat ladies, a month for klansmen, a month for slim shadys, a month for vegans...

There are so many ways to live your little life.  Celebrate each day, it is your right.

Mr. Uncle Scott

I should call you again tomorrow.  I wish I could call now, at 4:44 am, but I don't want to wake you.

What wonderful things we will talk about.  How much will we accept and embrace each other's darkest, most gorgeous topics?  There's no question which of us is the lucky one.  

What dreams will be relived?  What moments will present us the chance to walk through together?  How many lilts and dips and shas and grins will we share this time?

I should call you tomorrow, today, actually.  

I can't think of anything more wonderful to be.

and here we are again

17 years ago, she was high and drunk and following through with her plan to go out with a blaze of glory and teach him a lesson.

I must believe she didn't see what this would do and to who.

I hate that her brain was too much for her to bear.  She was so incredibly tough.  She was so hard on me.  She hated me.  I was never good enough.

She didn't say goodbye to me, but she wrote lots of letters to what seems like everyone else.  I picked out the clothes she's buried in.  I chose the casket, and the music, and the photos, and the flowers.  I cleaned out her house. And tortured myself with her things.  I keep her memory to this day.

She hated me.  I guess I deserved that.  

She ruined my birthdays, wedding, honeymoon, farmabaloo.  She took my daughter from me.  She accused me of stealing to keep herself out of trouble.  She stole from me, anything that mattered.  And, in the end, I lost my best friend and husband over her death.  He couldn't get over it.

She hated me.

I worshipped her.  

I would have done anything for her, for her approval, at her request, just to avoid her punishment.  I was never good enough.

She has been in my dreams more and more lately.  Like a side character instead of being about her.  I feel like she's made it out of the dusty classroom limbo where she folded endless baskets of socks in sepia tones.  

I don't need her approval anymore.  I can never have that.

Doug and her would have been total thing.  Quentin was bad enough that his mind and heart broke when she died.  Doug, she would have taken from me.

Part of me thinks she is waiting to do just that, somehow.  That she can't allow me to be happy.  Even though she's gone, I can feel her hating me.  

Look, Betz, if you can see me now... if you can read what I'm writing... fuck off, bitch.

You bailed, you weak, spineless pussy.  You left your kids and our family over your immature mind games.  You fucking loser.  You suck.  You left us all.  Own your shit.  We all have cleaned up after your fucking bs for 17 years.

Fucking get someone else to torture.  I've had enough!  You will never give me what I want or need.  I have to accept that.

I live in constant pain and regret, and I can't opt out like you did, because now I'm the oldest, and I can't hurt mom and dad like you did.

I'm still messed up, you helped.  I want to be free to live my life and enjoy it.  

Let me go.

Let me go.

I know you hate me, please let me go.

I know I'm never going to be good enough for you.  Please let me go.

You destroyed our family, and my little family, let me go.

I'm sorry I couldn't help you.  Let me go. 

Please find rest.  Let me go.

Please find peace.  Let me go.

Please find resolution.   Let me go.

Please find the strength to let me go.

Know that I love you, let me go.

I will never forget you, let me go.

I've done all I can.  Let me go.

17 years, Betz.  17 years.  Please let me go.

I wonder if you miss me as much as I do you.

I looked for hours for your obituary,  it's gone.  Not on the web.  Not one word, not one picture.  Just a mention in grandma's obit; and a site that says you're still alive, 48, and on park street.

I saw Gene Simmons live in May.  Just to brag to you about it.  

I need to feel ok about being me.  

I don't think you, or anyone else will help me.  

I feel like everyone I love just cuts me down.  I'm so tired.  

I'm 46 now.  I know who I am.   I crave love and attention.   Always.

Fuck.

Rest in peace,  Betz.  Godspeed.

the most heartbreaking lesson of my life.

I've taught Drew for 15 years.  Every week, for a half hour.

I used to go to his house.  His mom, Pam, would chat me up, and sometimes not mind if she had to watch Cassi while I taught Drew.

He has played in every recital I've ever held as a teacher.  And she has attended each one.

When my kids or I was sick, she would check in on us.  15 years.   Every week.

8 years after their dog, Gibby, passed away, Pam would still tear up at the mention of her name.  She was the sweetest, kindest, most caring person I think I've ever had the gift of experiencing.  

Pam caught the damn cancer in 2019. In her breast.  It was hard for everyone.  

I can't compare what I felt to what they lived, I just wish I knew what was appropriate to feel.  It killed me to see her sick.  It killed me to know how horrible it was for drew and Brian.  

After covid hit, she beat it.  I was sick, and she checked in on me as often as she could.  

6 weeks ago, the cancer came back.  In her lungs this time.  She didn't want drew to know.

It was so fast.  It wasn't the cancer, but a massive stroke that got her.  I'm not sure how old she was, but she couldn't have been much more than 50.

She was an angel.

She died on Tuesday of last week, that night I left for key west.

Brian said we wouldn't have a lesson, but at 11:20 on Thursday, drew texted me to see if we were going to be on or not.  I apologized, and set up for Saturday morning.

Saturday morning, I forgot.  I set up for Sunday.

Sunday came, and uncle rusty was antsy.  I decided to just do a voice call with drew.  He wanted to choose the songs for his mothers memorial service.

I helped him, and muted my end while I bawled as he played.

Today, we had a lesson.  He broke down.  His heart broke in front of me.

I'm lucky to be able to help this family like this.  

I hope I do some good.

sonic temple

I haven't been to a full-on, multi-day music festival for probably over 8 years.  

I can't believe Adam and I did this.  It is now going into day 4 (day 5 with the pre-game day).  I've gone through several stages of whiny and bitchy, many shades of intoxication, pulling myself up and making myself go back for more... I am so glad.

I've really missed it.  So much.   The dancing, the singing, the yelling, the lifting off the earth - the absence of pain.

Maybe music overtakes me so much there's no room left for pain.  I feel it later, not at all when I'm letting it take me.  

Oh man, I've missed it all so much.  The people, the sights, the shared experience,  the exchange of energy.

I'm so glad I got to do this.  I can't believe I didn't punk out today.  I was fucking wiped.  Adam and I stayed up till 7 this morning.  (Now yesterday)

He played the harp for hours.  

That was amazing

Tool, suicidal tendencies, Godsmack, avenged sevenfold, chevele, rob zombie, puscifer,  kiss... fuck yeah

Last night,  after the show,  we went to the pizza place.   Some dude named Kevin insisted that I had a piece of his gluten free pizza,  and drink a bottle of water.   I haven't had an experience like that since Ocean helped me out at fall Suwanee in 2002.

I'm so grateful. 

I've gotten to do and see and feel and have so many beautiful moments.   I forgot how much I love it.   I've really missed dancing. 

For tool, Doug and I danced right at the fence by the sound booth.   The wind would come through and blow my hair.   The moon and stars were out.   I've never seen tool outside. 

I danced so hard,  I forgot about everything.   Magical. 

Doug got taken by the music too and left the earth with me.  Just beautiful. 

I'm so grateful for this.  Thankful to the universe and God and music for helping me heal.

playing old familiar pieces

I haven't been playing a lot since we closed the shop.   I miss having my c7, and my perzina.   At home,  I have princess Charlotte's gunther spinet from Belgium,  made in the late 1920's/ early 1930s.  It has some limitations.   

Nevertheless,  I sat down to it tonight,  and played after a long dry spell.   I had beethoven's sonatas and chopin's nocturnes on the desk. 

I played the first two pages of Ludwigs opus 14 no. 2.  It was good.   Then I flipped randomly and sight read some movement of some sonata I'd never heard.   Then,  I tried to get into chopin,  but I just couldn't get into the nocturnes.  In my head,  I was looking for his raindrops prelude.  I didn't have the music for it. 

I got up for a bit.   Came back and played debussey's first arabesque.   Got up again,  and printed out the raindrop prelude.   

When I played it,  it was probably better than I felt like it was.   I couldn't remember the key signature.   I over thought everything.   Fuck. 

I got up.   I came back,  I played it again.   Still not completely happy.   

I started beethoven's pathetique 1st mvt.  I did ok. 

But then,  I kept thinking the key signature was the same as the raindrop.  It's not. 

Fuck.

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

strawberry fields

Is anything real?

We've been bantered about and forced to face agreed upon realities for so long. 

Can we even tell anymore?

What difference does it make?

Where is home?

Why can't I get there?

fuck being stuck

I've been overwhelmed and stuck for so many years.  

I know I have.

I've struggled, to no avail.

Time has been squandered, resources unmanaged, choices unchecked, plans abandoned.

It's enough now.  Enough.

I am talented, strong, determined, capable, adaptable, able to do whatever I'd like.

I pray I figure out what that is again.

I need to connect with a goal.  I need a project that isn't a horrible pressing "have-to".  I need something I care about.

Fuck.

I've forgotten myself.

birthdays

Today I turn 46.  Older than I ever imagined.  But, possibly, only half way through my life.

I always celebrate my "last day" the day before my birthday.  My "last day" of 45 this year.  I won 2 chess matches, lost 0.  I won 2 pinball games, and lost 3.  I caught up with an old friend and celebrated our 10 year friendiversary.   

I sang, I planned a trip to do route 66 with an acquaintance I'd like to make a friend.  I loved on a 10 week old shibu inu puppy.  I taught 5 students, and coached 2 more.  I made it home safely.

I wrote in my journal.  I tried to read my tarot cards, but I felt off.  I brushed out dreadlocks from a good friend's depression hair.  I made a new cat friend, I saw two dog friend's and two cat friends outside my house.

I saw a rose gold full moon rise.

I apologized for interrupting and listened as well as I could.  

I left my husband to be depressed in bed and tried not to let it bother me.

I did my best.  Now I need to nap.

Goodbye 45.

Hello 46!

am I a narcissist?

Am I the narcissist?

Fuck.

Maybe I am. Maybe it's always been me.  

Maybe I'm the one who caused so many problems. Maybe I'm the one that's abusive and controlling. Maybe I'm the one that's been horrible.

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

I can't do this right now.

I'm gonna pray.

10th anniversary of the day we met & also valentines day

I know it has to be my fault. I know it could be different, if only I knew what was required of me to get my desired outcome.

As you said tonight, "it's been 10 years, why haven't you acclimated to me yet?"

It's because I exist too. I'm here too. I have wants and needs and hopes and dreams, and have spent quite a few years working to please you and others. While none of them ever knew me at all.

I finally got it during one of the group sessions I took back in 2020, after my stint in the psych ward. We did a blind " what do you think of/compliment" each other exercise.  

No one knew anything about me after 6 weeks besides I owned a business and I tried to be a good mom. I knew then, that I am very closed off from anyone around me. I also realized, I don't know how to change that without being a complete psycho dick.

I scare people. One of my students recently took a workshop with my former teacher. This woman frightened me down to my very core.

My student reported, " I see why you're so scared of her, but you scare me more."

Wow. 

Just Wow.

Of course, everyone I encounter, then is subject to this ridiculous possibility. What a mind fuck.

I don't want to be scary, or serious, or intimidating. I never even imagined I would come across as those things. I know now that I do. This recent example is only one of many.  

I have to ask myself if it would be better some other way?

I don't know. I only know I didn't know it was this way. Now that I do, what should I do?

chronic illness

I haven't really ever felt well.  

I know, that sounds completely whiny and awful.

I hate this about myself.

I always pushed through, did what I could even if I was sick. These last couple of years, though, I'm falling behind.

After always trying to do my best, take care of everyone and everything, not take time for myself... this is really hard.

My mom was chronically ill. I hated it. I couldn't do anything to make her better. I still can't.  

Most of all, I feel sorry. And 

completely freaked out.  

I feel like there's no way to find the answer.

I'm so repulsed by myself and my health, I wish I didn't have to be here anymore.

I want to go home. Now.

I'm so sorry.

Going to the blood doctor Wednesday.

I hope they can help. 

was it 2018?

It may have been as far back as 2012, or even farther. Maybe clear back when I got here in 77. I'm not sure.

I know I had some weird experiences. I know 

I didn't have choices.

I'm fucking 45 years old now. I don't care what happened. I don't care who did what to who. I don't care how fucked up it was.  

It's time to forgive. All the way. All of it.

I want to live for me now. I've given way too much of my time to feel like shit over things I can't change, can't erase, can't undo.  

I forgive it all. I forgive them all. 

I forgive myself.

The past is gone, thank God.  

Why am i so scared? So many stupid questions. Do I even know who I am? Aren't I what those things made me? Was I something else before all that? How do I forgive? How can I possibly allow myself to live for myself? Shame. Guilt. Fear. Fuck it.