Karen Goggins 的个人资料Abnormally Normal People照片日志列表 工具 帮助
2009/4/17

Healed By Heavenly Hemp

Aren't well-meaning friends great? They want to heal you when you're sick and share in the laughter when life is going along without a hitch. During my recent fiasco, a well-meaning friend brought me a gift.  What a lovely person Shirley is...vibrant, young at heart and full of the same piss and vinegar I am. Shirley had scored some hemp powder at a local health food store for me because it's supposed to help heal the body when mixed with food or drinks. My first thought was to purchase some yogurt and make some conglomeration out of it, but purchasing said yogurt was a bit more difficult than what I had expected and will most likely become the topic for a rant in the future. 

 

So after storing this hemp powder in the refrigerator like the container specifies, I decided to open it up and at least have a look-see at what I would be ingesting.  Upon breaking the seal and unscrewing the cover, I gazed upon what looked like dirt.  I sniffed and sniffed the earthy aroma of the contents detecting a faint lingering odor I couldn't quite put my finger on at the time. That made me only more determined to dig through the recesses of my mind for a memory that would reveal what the powder smells like.  I then tasted it and it tasted exactly like I had expected it to.  I was eating mystery matter that was labeled to be organic, vegan, kosher, gluten-free, lactose-free, nut-free and contains no soy.  I formulated that the contents was something anyone in the world could eat, but the deeper question seemed to be would anyone really want to actually eat it.  Well, these days I'm up for trying anything, so please expect a detailed report as soon as I actually make some concoction and eat/drink it.

 

Since I was hell-bent on figuring out what that smell was, each person who entered my home was immediately instructed to sniff the contents and then dip their finger in the container to extract enough powder to taste the hemp.  Believe it or not, people have been asked to do stranger things while visiting me! It was quite like watching someone dipping snuff with the exception of there was no spitting involved. Various faces were made and comments about the bouquet were offered, but nothing jogged my memory.  What was that smell? And then it hit me...it smelled like old hippie feet (no one please ask me how I know what they smell like) with the ever so slightly aroma of cow manure.  Try imagining that this powder is supposed to be mixed in any fluid of choice (tequila?) to make a “delicious smoothie” as advertised or baked in things like brownies???? Wait a minute it's not that kind of hemp... Nonetheless, thanks Shirley and please be expecting a “smoothie” party just as soon as I’m up for one. 

 

 

 

 

2009/4/15

The Truth Is A Virus

Don’t rock the boat especially when you're in it! I need to ask why not... Wouldn't the most effective time to rock the boat be when you're sitting right smack in the middle of the boat sitting high and dry with nothing to lose? I've decided to step off the boat for awhile and rock the boat by the waves I cause by hitting the water with the grace of an untrained diver.  For those of you who are wondering if I've finally gone completely insane... the answer is simple.  I am who I am and those of you who read this and get something from it are those people who already know the answer to that million-dollar question.  Those of you who read my words and have the lightbulb go off without judgment are my heroes.

 

You see, my heroes have always been real people...not imaginary crusaders or fictitious cartoon characters and certainly not critical, pompous, self-righteous blowhards who only see one truth...theirs!  The truth I've always sought to has come from those individuals who dare to stand up in the face of adversity and speak the truth as they see it with compassion and tolerance for those who disagree.  They see the world in shades of gray and not in the harsh contrast of black and white. Some of the most celebrated voices of our times were once looked at as misfits...outcasts...rabble rousers...nothing more than a voice in the dark, yet somehow their voices created a fire and inspired people in ways that only true heroes can.

 

Somehow, these people seem to become the voice of a generation...philosophers, writers, activists, people who chase after the things in which they really believe. They make us all believe we can make a difference, that we can reach beyond ourselves and touch other people's lives. Before I get too deeply entrenched into writing this entry I want to say; no this isn't a political post nor is it a religious one.  What these words are is a way for me to continue what I started several years ago. My life has been an open book since the day I started blogging.  Did I think I had anything exceptionally worthwhile to really share with people? Not really!  But here I am! What I did share for the most part were words written from my heart with the exception of those times when life had a strange way of stripping me of sharing anything.  During those times while I was MIA, occasionally I would post something quite stupid or so void of who I am as a person that I often wondered if anyone noticed the difference...if anyone felt the void?  The truth is that I haven't written anything from the heart for such a long time. Why? I think my answer to that answer is easy yet also complicated.  Sounds similar to what life is like, doesn't it? 

 

Last year was a bad one...you know, one of those kind of years that in retrospect is nothing more than an emotional blur. I've had a few of those years along this journey I've called my life. The truth has been that from the time I realized life isn't meant to be easy all the time (around the age of 12), I've done everything in my power to be as self destructive as I possibly could be without taking that ultimate step into the great unknown.  This means that at times, I have isolated myself in my hermitude pushing those things I love most far away so they can bring me no solace. Some might think that my cowardice prevented an ultimate demise, but those who really know me know that my acts of senseless self-destruction were aimed at punishing myself over and over again so I could die alittle bit at a time.  I know it doesn't sound like a fun way to spend a lifetime, but I have to admit that it really hasn't been all bad all of the time.  The truth is that when it has been bad, it's really sucked being me. 

 

Truth? I probably have been my own worst enemy along the way.  Truth? As far out on the edge as I've teetered, something has always kept me from stepping into that abyss.  Truth? My pain and I have a very intimate relationship. It’s very complicated and the only lasting relationship I’ve ever had. It’s definitely a love-hate relationship full of angst and exploration leading me into places where I’m able to forget my pain temporarily.  During those times, life has been wonderful and filled with adventures of a lifetime, but nonetheless temporary.

 

Is there anyone out there who has ever gotten to the point of saying "I'm done"?  Well, what do you do when you're done?  What do you do when you look back at the life you've lived and see that it's taken you to a place of true complacency and indifference? Wow! That's a place I never thought I'd be! Anger maybe. Rage was always a possibility. Bitterness was always aching to be number one on the hit parade, but what did I get? Complacency and indifference salted with a dash of disillusionment.

 

Without all the gory details, I recently made a decision that possibly could be the queen of all my self-destructive acts.  I know some might think anyone making the decision to stop an addiction...any addiction is a wise decision. Perhaps it is!   What would one say to someone who is addicted to prescribed narcotics and muscle relaxers and who has decided to stop taking those drugs against medical advice? Hmmmmmmm!  Go for it? Good luck? You’re a damn fool? There’s no escaping the truth. When you’re done, you’re done. Truth? Drugs have veiled many of my written words over the past several years.  Okay, for some that may come as no big surprise, but for me it does. What surprises me is that after living through horrors of drug abuse at a younger age, I allowed myself to take the easy way out as an adult and become something hated. I would like nothing more than to be able to blame the doctors who prescribed the drugs to me, but I can't do that.  I won’t do that! They had a job to do and did it.  What transpired was a perfectly legal act, although some might question the ethics or morals involved. Was I some drug-seeking individual that goes from doctor to doctor hoping to score some decent drugs? Truth? No! My medical problems set me on the path of having the best drugs health insurance could legally buy.  Unfortunately, the nature of the beast includes developing a tolerance to prescribed narcotics. What may work initially only becomes a way to take the edge off and feel somewhat normal….whatever normal is…I’ve forgotten.

 

After careful consideration, I decided to go cold turkey.  Is that the politically correct term these days or is it only showing my age?  I decided to do this withdrawal in stages thinking that it would be easier on me due to other health issues.  Instead of weaning myself off my meds, I abruptly stopped taking my Oxycontin first and now, I’m in the throes of a nasty divorce from Percocet 10’s. The muscle relaxers were flushed sometime in the midst of all this madness.  Has my last month been fun? Hell no, but what I do know is that withdrawal is doable. All it takes is determination and insanity will take you the rest of the way.

 

My favorite part of this little adventure has been the insomnia. After several days of not sleeping and having my mind so wired that I couldn't shut my eyes even if someone had duct taped them shut and having my body be physically drained and exhausted (meant to be factious), I've come to the conclusion that I'm done! I'm tired of being self-destructive and there's got to be something better out there.  Not a Garden of Eden, but a small oasis…a place to park my ass and see that people really do feel love and live happily ever after or at least fake it better than I have.  There's got to be a place where, I can open my eyes each morning and feel good. Ahhhh, the warmth of that Florida sunshine on my face and a new dawn, a new beginning. I really do believe that...I have to believe that even after having life teach me for years that the world is a rough place and no one gets out alive. I have to hold onto the thought that I will find my own little oasis or else I really am done!  I think that this inner voice that has been screaming at me for what seems like forever is something that I’m willing to hear now.  The voice shouts that life is too short to spend it being miserable.  I can't foresee the future nor do I want to see it.  I’d rather stumble blindly into tomorrow aimlessly wandering for that oasis.  Truth? I can honestly say that I feel better right now than I did a few days ago even though it’s been another sleepless night.  So what's next? Truth?  Pump up the volume!