Muscle Memory

It’s been since October 30 since I wrote here.

I went to bed that night on the eve of Halloween thinking that my life would contnue on as it always had, that nothing would change.

By noon on October 31, I was barely upright. I recall walking the streets of Center City. I recall weeping openly. I recall being so disturbing to the jaded citizens of my city that about a dozen or so people stopped to try to assist me. I recall not being able to talk.

I looked at my phone and fought to dial numbers known to me. I struggled to reach out to the people I thought I could trust.

In all honesty, I lost my ability to trust in anything that morning. The world as I’d known it for 41 years was some alien place that no longer existed for me. As person after person failed to pick up the phone I thought of Bonnie. I thought of my mother and how I had to get home to her.
I walked more, in circles it seemed. As I got closer to the subway entrances, so close I could hear the trains in the distance I knew I would die if I descended those steps.

I didn’t fear death though because I was living through something far worse.

The specific details of the events of October 31, I will not share tonight. Tonight is about muscle memory and returning to form.

Tonight is about reclaiming this one more part of me, from the world and the people who took my family, my faith, my balance, my sanity, and my hope from me.
Tonight is about being me.

By Saturday afternoon, November 1 the facade was gone and the mask I wore for Bonnie no longer held. I just barely managed to set her off to safety. Barely.

I did get her to safetey though. That means something.

By Saturday night I was in the hospital in 4 point restraints vomiting the countless pills I’d swallowed and cursing myself for not having either a gun or a stronger front door.

I attempted suicide.

By Sunday morning I was in an inpatient mental health facility. By Sunday night I was trying to calculate the hours I’d been in knowing the law would prevent them from keeping me longer than 72 hours. They would be forced to let me go and I could finish what I started.

Monday night in a dream my Clyde spoke to me. Tuesday morning I was willing to stay, because it was the one place that it felt I could be with my child who had for the second time now saved the life of his mother.

It is quiet in this house tonight. It’s never quiet here. In the deafening silence I type, understanding how far a road this is to travel.
I have to navigate it alone,that is not at all unusual. What is unusual is that I’ve yet to find a way to bring those I love with me.

I’ve been gifted with love.

I find these days it is hard to accept that gift.

2014 gave me just about everything that was ‘missing’ from my life and then kicked me out of that life and forced me to watch it from the outside.

I look at emails I cannot figure out how to form a response.
I get text messages that might as well be written in Aramaic their language is so foreign.
I woke up November 1 to something that was beyond my heart’s ability to understand and it stopped beating. It pumped blood through my veins, delivered oxygen to my lungs, yet like me it was just going through the motions ….. muscle memory.

I don’t know who I am today.

I thought that I knew. I thought I was living out a designed path that would lead me to happiness.

There is no asphalt in front of me now on this road…. just darkness. Every minute I don’t return to that place of November 1 is a victory but there is no celebration in my molecules. There is grief. There is pain. Those familiar emotions returning front and center mocking me for daring to dream.

Dragging me back to a period BC – before Clyde – and all that came with who this girl was then.

The truth is that this will end. What does not kill us makes us stronger the saying goes. I am Adamantium.

I am also as fragile and unprotected and ill prepared as that 7lb 14oz curly haired human being they placed into my arms 14 years ago and said he is yours.

I have the vizionz expansions on hold. I have so little energy these days that life support gets it all. The Enterprise cant even manage a ercentage of impulse power most days.

BUT

the fact that I can type this means the warp core will be restored…..eventually. One day.

In the meantime

this is where I insert some thoughtful phrase or inspirational quote but I got nothing right now

Aphrodite Brown

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A New Home

Did you miss me constant reader? I’ve missed you terribly. We’d gotten back into a groove this month and then life happened for me and I need a few days off.

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meow

I am no shrinking violet.

I do not bend nor break easily.

Sometimes a girl just needs someone…. who knows that the fuck to do with it.

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Next Time

I thought that I could come to you with better news but this was not the year of Vizionz.  The final ballot is set for the Black Web Log Awards and we did not make the finals.

Yes I am disappointed.  I was beyond excited about our possibilities this year.

The good news is Vizionz is still growing, still expanding, still moving on to bigger and better things.

I am thankful that you are here with me to support the effort.  I am thankful for your votes.  I am thankful for you constant reader more than words convey.

We will come back next year and the year after and the year after.  Vizionz is here to stay.

So for my new readers and old reader I have two quick notes.

You can subscribe to Vizionz.  There is no cost to subscribe and you will be notified as soon as new posts arrive.

You can also donate to keep Vizionz up an running.  The donate button is over there to the right.  Your donations help offset web hosting costs and the professional staff soon to arrive.  Any size donation is welcome from a dollar to a million dollars. If you are sending me a million dollars  please don’t do it anonymously….I am gonna wanna shout that from the 4 corners of the earth.

Thank you for being here with me.  Thank you for walking the path with me.  Thank you.

 

Aphrodite Brown

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Hooked on Phonics

I took a few days here at the homestead to handle that which needs handling.  In the absence of my presence here I ran across some thoughts and writings from my peers in the world of BDSM advocates and educators.

My vizion takes a slightly different path than theirs….. I wonder why.

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Medicinal

He laughs in his sleep.  He’s done it since he was an infant. 13 years later he still does. Even after a day like today which was stressful for him – he laughs in his sleep.  I sit in the chair in his room tonight as I type this. It was the sound of his laughter that called me.

The universe blessed me with the best kid ever.

They tell me about his potential, his challenges, what to expect as high school looms and after that adulthood.  Right now I just want to listen to his laughter.

His smile is awesome.  It lights up his whole face and it radiates bright as our sun.  He still giggles.  Sometimes? a full body laugh comes out of his body that eliminates the capacity one might have for sadness.  You cannot be sad when he laughs.

He laughs in his sleep.

It reminds me that when I think I am not doing all that can be done, that there is some rock I’ve yet to turn, he is happy.

I value his happiness over my own.  Over just about everything.  I don’t always make him happy.  I make him take out the trash.  I enforce bedtime.  I put green things on his plate called vegetables and tell him he has to eat them.  I tell him no.

i do all kinds of motherly things that don’t make him smile.

I do things that generate the soon to be patented Clyde side eye.
Through it all though, on many nights when he is resting and preparing to out grow yet ANOTHER pair of shoes…..he laughs in his sleep.

When he goes to bed at night he is safe – he is comfortable – he knows he is loved and his subconscious allows happiness to radiate through his head and it generates laughter.

I don’t laugh in my sleep. Lately I’ve been having nightmares. The fact that what ails me hasn’t infected him is no small feat. It tells me no matter what there is something I am doing right. I need that at times. Proof that I am getting him right.

When I might doubt it the most – my getting it right – the universe delivers the message through the laughter of my child.
It really is the best medicine.

Aphrodite Brown

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Blame Much?

I’ve had my share of heated conversations over the years about victim blaming and victim shaming.  It is a windmill I tilt at constantly, hoping it will topple and I can move along to something else.

I cannot.

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30 Days of Truth – 15

The prompt for day 15 is something you cannot live without,you know because you’ve tried.

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Qualified

My intention for the month of October was to supply the reader with a vizion of what intimate partner violence looks like in a BDSM relationship.  I am going to fail.  As I’ve designed in my head this series, I was forced to admit somethings about my intentions.

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Ask Aphrodite: To Teach or Not to Teach

purzen_Icon_with_question_mark_Vector_ClipartHi Aphrodite

as I’ve gotten older I’ve found that men my age are having issues keeping up with my sex drive.  While I’ve never thought of dating a younger man, the idea is suddenly appealing in some ways.  My fear is that being beneath a younger man means I am going to have to teach him how to have sex with me.  Ain’t nobody got time for that!  But ain’t nobody got time to be unsatisfied at 45 either….suggestions?

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