delena haiku

it's a gorgeous day,
and for once, i'm not working!
took a day to rest.

thoughts of freedom are
once more circling 'round my brain.
just can't let it go.

all it takes is rest.
just a little, and i'm back:
Funk Soul Goddess, yeah!


21 guns

if you listen to the radio at all, you've heard this song. being that i'm in my work truck anywhere from two to six hours a day doing nothing but driving, i now listen to a lot of radio.

this song has really, really stuck with me. for a while i couldn't have told you why. well, aside from the really effing awesome music compilation and especially the drums, i couldn't think of anything. but then i sat down and listened to the lyrics, and i now realize why my subconscious has had such a strong connection to this song.

lately my life has been constant conflict: my body with my work schedule, my mind with my body, my previous programming with my actual needs, my work schedule with my family and friends, my conscious with my subconscious.

way back when, people used to believe that heaven and hell did battle every day, with our bodies and souls as their battle field. lately i've wondered if they were more correct than they were aware of.

i've come to realize certain things about myself, certain aspects of my soul i've denied and abused and tried to kill my entire life. i suppose you could call it my inner child. i've treated her rather cruelly. i'm learning to accept her.

also, a dear, dear person introduced me to a book i had never heard of, and a concept i hadn't known existed. the book is the highly sensitive person, and --like gluten-free girl-- is revolutionizing my life. i've bought three of her books ("the highly sensitive person," the workbook, and "the highly sensitive person in love") and am reading the first one.

sometimes i can't breathe, reading it. just like when i first cracked open gluten-free girl, i am reading a book that is telling me about my life in explicit detail. i've never really felt as if a book were speaking directly to me before, but this particular work is doing exactly that.

it's drumming up very powerful feelings within me. unfortunately, i read this book where and when i can, given my schedule, so it goes without saying i don't have the luxury to experience the emotions freely as if i were to read the book in private. because lemme tell you, if i were...this book would have had me railing and weeping and openly experiencing emotions i haven't felt in too many years.

it's also helping me see myself in an entirely new light: one that's not in the least negative. i'm not crazy. i do not have a disorder. i'm not too broken to live. do you know what it's like, finally learning that there's absolutely nothing wrong with you, and you are worthy? finally, blessedly worthy?

worthy of what? worthy of being alive. worthy of breathing. worthy of just as much love and understanding and acceptance as anyone else.

it's another Delena of the Funkywild r[E]volution. so i'm going through my trunk of old clothes and dusting off my pink go-go boots, pink flashy-hearts-on-springs headband, and my bandolier filled with glitter lip gloss and small bottles of bubble solution. Delena the Revolutionary Freedom Fighter for Beauty, Truth, and Finding the Funk is back.

she's fucking back.

so i'm raising the white flag. i'm giving the 21 gun salute, discharging my ammunition to show i am no longer hostile to my soul, my sensitive body, my needs, or my inner child. i have no idea how i'm going to live in peace and harmony with them --the demands of my work life are so strenuous and exacting-- but i know i will no longer continue the fight.

my strong, independent, tough adult self that can smell bullshit a mile away and refuses to take any shit from anyone can be an awesome, kickass big sister for my little girl self.

...why have i taken the reins from my bio-parents and been the evil stepmother to her for so long? why have i compounded her abuse? she's strong in her own way, and amazing to have survived for so long, with so little.

and so...i lay down my arms and give up the fight. 21 guns...i lift up my arms into the sky. her and i...


when i was a child, i caught a fleeting glimpse...

....out of the corner of my eye.
i turned to look, but it was gone.
i cannot put my finger on it now.

that's kind of where i think the Funk is. it's so far gone right now.

you know how our thoughts become our reality, right? well, today is the first bit of real proof that i've headed to a very not-good place and it's starting to manifest in my daily life. it might seem small, locking my keys in my work truck, but now i'm late for an appointment. the locksmith is going to set me back about sixty dollars, after already being set back $400 this month due to a dead computer and a cell phone plan that couldn't keep up with my job. the speakers on the Funkmobile died a few days ago, i just can't kick this bronchitis (still!), and i'm behind on paperwork for work again.

little things are starting to fall apart on me, and i know half of it is because i'm not in the right headspace. but i don't know how to get out of it. there's so much going on around me. and while the majority of it is work-related, i feel so overwhelmed right now that any new information is just making me break down. the smallest stress now is causing me to overload and have panic attacks. ...like last night. and it happened in front of my best friend. if it had to be anyone, i'm glad it was her. but still. i hate that it was in front of anyone. i hate that i had one at all. i should have more control over myself, and should have shoved it down.

but speaking of shoving things down...you ever have an overfull suitcase that just will not shut no matter how much you sit on it? yeah. there's no more room.


as for priorities? work, school, family, and something else i'm not ready to mention here. they're all priorities, and they're all important, and they all deserve as much time as i can give them. everything else has already been dropped. if i drop any more, i cross the line into the disappointing-the-people-who-love-me territory.

i cannot and will not do that. fuck, i don't know what to do anymore.


brain dead

it's a couple minutes to midnight. i just got home a few minutes ago. *lw*, the boss lady, *mj*, and baph (the leezard), and i went for sushi tonight. it was a lot of fun, but the trip to the sushi place was a very real lesson in just how strung-out i really am.

i should not be losing my temper just because i made a wrong turn trying to follow crappy, vague, last-minute directions. and normally i don't. i'm hitting that "dead end" sign at the very end of Exhaustion Blvd.

there was this one time when i was in grade school when i tried to do all my laundry in one load. my bio-mom had said i would overload the washer and dryer, and she said if i couldn't carry it all in my arms, then the load was too big and i should divide it. well, i refused to listen because a.) i hate laundry, and b.) i'm really fucking impatient.

always have been. just because i seem to keep a cool head on the outside doesn't mean i'm not going fucking nuts on the inside.

so i showed my bio-mom i could carry that laundry all in my arms. and my arms were so full of clothes that i was doubled over, trying to brace them all against my body. and i would lose clothes the whole trip from the laundry room to my bedroom. a sock would fall, then a shirt, maybe a few pairs of panties, a random sock or three...and there was this trail of clothes, and i had to make two trips to get everything i'd dropped on the way during my first trip.

it frustrated me to no end.

well, it's kind of the image i get in my head when i think of my life lately. i've got so much in my arms that i'm leaving a trail of crap and paper and activities and people in my wake. things and people and important stuff that i have to drop just because work is dominating my life. i'm always behind.

i hate being behind. hate it. i'm the penultimate capricorn. talk about perfectionist and no-nonsense efficiency at its finest. if it takes me all damn day to do a good job, then damn it all, i'm going to do a good job.

...and yet...there's that pile of laundry in my arms, with all these things falling out of my arms and landing on the wayside.

i don't really laugh anymore. not, like, the relaxed laughter that comes of a light heart. my heart isn't light. my heart is heavy and exhausted and so stressed out. the stupid thing is that i thought things would get better after school let out for the summer. but what i'm finding is that now that i'm not so wholly and consumedly focused on school, i'm realizing just how much everything else was neglected. so now i'm trying to make up for lost time, and get caught up.

and i've gained no ground. i'm just as behind as i was last month. i feel worse about the people in my life that i feel i'm cheating. i feel like i'm cheating them out of something good. i feel like the worst kind of person because i'm not there for them like i used to be. hell, i had to book *lw* with her own appointment on my work schedule just so i could help get her to her ultrasound.

that's just this side of ridiculous. and lately, that's how it has to be. and just because i know i'm mortal doesn't mean that i don't feel horrible about not being able to give people more of me.

and jeez, i've been writing for ten minutes, and i'm effing passing out. omg. and while i know it'll help not a whit, i need help.


no more sea water up my nose...



it's 9:40 pm and i'm totally wiped. for now, however, i am totally caught-up on work. it only takes putting 12+ hours in a day, counting everything from appointments and drive time, to paperwork and phone calls to customers. i'm not too happy about the hours i put into work. when i get home, i like to be home, y'know? not, "oh, okay, i'm home now, but i still have three hours of work ahead of me after already falling asleep on the freeway."


finals were over last tuesday, and i've been catching up on my life ever since. i think i'm finally making some headway. as i said, work's already all caught up. tomorrow's a different story, but Here Now, i'm five by five. my room's getting better. there are still some clothes, and a ton of papers that need to be sorted, tossed, and found homes.

...i just need a bigger desk.

speaking of desks, on the 31st of last month, my computer just up and died for no good, apparent reason. that pretty much pissed me right the @#*! off, because i'd been having problems with it, but all i'd asked *mj* to do was replace a noisy fan that was annoying the crap outta me. he unplugs it, and suddenly BAM! nothing works.

so there went $250 i didn't expect to spend, replacing my beloved pc with an acer aspire netbook. pink, of course. i tote it with me everywhere. literally. it's never out of arm's reach, because i never know when i'm going to want or need to log onto the internet for something, or have a few spare minutes to write.

of course, after the you-have-over-$200-in-overage-charges-on-your-phone-bill-delena fiasco, i also upped my plan to the "simply everything" plan with sprint. this time, i hope they don't hose me with hidden fees. however, this also means that my trusty, cute, pink ipod-ish phone can now access email, surf the web, text message, and i have a nav feature that's sort of like TomTom only better. it also has a "search" feature, so i can find things close by...like known gluten-free restaurants while i'm out in the field for work.

speaking of work, i work a full 90 mins south of where i live, so work's becoming an adventure. lots of windshield time, listening to KINKFM, CHARLIEFM, and some other radio station i can never remember. but between those three, i can usually keep myself entertained with music throughout the entire day.

it keeps me somewhat sane.

now...if i could just catch up on sleep, and eat on a dependably regular basis, i'd be making some huge headway.

one step at a time, dee. no need to eat every single frog all at once, after all.

even though, damnitall, i want to. i suppose impatience and frustration are their own frogs, hmm?


[insert clever title here]

looking back on my entries the last few months...i was hit by a mack truck, wasn't i? march was bad, april was worse, may kicked me in the teeth, and here it is june and it's just like in the cartoons where i'm wobbly on my feet and dizzy with little tweeting birds flying around my head. 

finals were last night.  oi vey, don't ask me about finals. 

the job is going really well. i was in So.Cal last week for training, and for all intents and purposes it was a fantastic success. now all that material that's been piling up in my room that i've been ignoring is getting sorted, and i get to start cramming for State exams now. oh fun. 

i remember being little and going to the beach with my bio-family in So.Cal. there was this one summer when i decided i was going to be daring, and swim out past where i could see the bottom. out where the big kids were. and i did. and it was a blast! it was kinda like swimming in the most ginormous swimming pool in the world. 

then this wave came and hammered me all the way down to the sand, and i didn't know which way was up, and the current dragged me tumbling and floundering along the bottom. i hit my head on a rock, and cut my hand on a jagged shell. i tumbled along the bottom forever, it seemed. i ran out of breath, and oh gods, i can remember the panic as i realized i was still under water and couldn't breathe. my body fought for air, and i was flailing for anything to hold onto. i tumbled over and over, and there was no sense of direction. water shot up my nose and down my throat. i was breathing, but it wasn't really working. belatedly i realized i'd sucked down a mouthful of seawater. 

finally i bobbed to the surface. i remember this rattling breath that sounded like when you turn a water bottle upside down and give it a good squeeze...then let go and let the air back in, and you get that sucking, burbling, bubbling glug-glug sound. that's kinda how it was. then i was sinking back down and coughing and barfing up salt water, and it was pouring out of my mouth and nose, and eyeballs and ears it seemed, too. and just as i was in the middle of my first painful rasp of fresh air, another wave pounded down upon me, straight down on my head, and my face slammed back into the sandy bottom and i saw blood in the water, and i tumbled over and over, and over and over. 

it finally fizzled out, dragging me as if i were a dented tin can tied with twine to a stray dog's tail, to shallower waters. i stood up, blood down my face and dripping into the water, lungs stinging and throbbing, coughing water up my nose, head pounding, dizzy, and tears streaming from my eyes. no one came at me and said, "oh god, are you all right?" or anything. i don't think anyone saw. i dragged myself out of the water, went to get my towel, and didn't go back into the sea for about sixteen years. 

that's kind of how it felt these last couple of months. dragged along the bottom, tumbling, can't get a breath. now i'm back in shallow(er) waters, reeling, coughing up sea water. all i want is to find my towel, lie down in the warm sun, and dry off. maybe make a sand castle, or go roller skating on the board walk.