Private Writings: Chapters #57 — Whenever I Want You

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #57 – Whenever I Want You

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 15th April 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.

Private Writings: Chapter #57 — Whenever I Want You

[Madison's Fourth Week Being Held at Redcliff Psychiatric Institute After a Failed Suicide Attempt...]

Tuesday 7th October 2008

Dear Annie,

Writings from my own “A Writer’s Diary,” while I am inside Redcliff Psychiatric Institute. It is the best way to keep track of what is going on. I want evidence if they fuck me up more than I already am. So far they haven’t forced any pharma meds on me, and they won’t allow me access to my Medical Marijuana either, even though I am licensed to legally use it as a medication to treat health issues and as my psych meds. I stopped taking pharma except for Klonopin. Getting off of that feels almost as bad as I imagine stopping cold from heroin. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My insides felt jumpy and nauseous. I was going from cold sweats to freezing than feeling like I couldn’t cool off. My mind was freaking me out. I finally told my doctor I needed to keep taking at least half of the dosage. It was feeling impossible to stop. Seems I am stuck with the Klonopin until my doc and I can figure out how to trick my system into thinking it is still receiving my drug of choice to killing myself.

Jamie, my sweet friend, with whom I am wickedly crushing on, saved my life. Not so sure I’ve decided yet to thank her. Jamie blew my mind when she played Carter McLeod in my recent screenwriting success in “Brief Sacrifice.” She was excellent. Scottie told me the gross at present is well over $45,000,000. We made it for $17,500,000, rounded off. It has only just been released overseas.

It’s a great time traveling mystery hooked into Nikola Tesla. It has the edge of the book “Da Vinci Code,” but the film is tighter and more thrilling. Having a female protagonist is what makes it so much more intriguing. It gets pretty exhausting always having a man be the hero. Come on, men are not as brave as women. They like to think so but their guts churn as much as ours do, except society won’t allow men to show their more delicate feminine side. There is nothing wrong with a man being sensitive, nor a woman. Being a man in this world may have its perks but I would never want to be a man, too vulnerable in many ways.

A new day.

As usual, I went way off subject while writing my entry yesterday. Jamie’s visit was touching and depressing. I told her I thought I was in love with her, but it had nothing to do with sex. It was the feeling of closeness with her that made me feel secure. Like I wasn’t alone. I just wanted her to hold me while we would just lie down together and snuggle. More for comfort than something prurient. It was all innocent. Jamie wasn’t sure it was a good idea to get that close. What would Scottie think?

Scottie and I have an understanding. Nothing ever becomes sexual unless it is forced. I don’t sleep with other woman for sex. I have never slept with anyone for sex. The fact that sex has been foisted upon me by the desires of other people, is not my doing. My therapists have all told me, the sexual abuse and the mind and emotional abuse scarred me so severely when I was a child and the abuse followed me into my adult life. I have always been unable to stop an abuser. My fight or flight reflexes don’t work. I freeze when threatened by anything and I don’t know how to stop a person from forcing themselves on me.

When Sylvia’s drug incapacitated me, it was like living in a nightmare. My body couldn’t shut down. My usual escape route was blocked off by her cleverness. I couldn’t dissociate. She had me trapped. I saw and felt everything that she did. It was brutal. She was brutal. It felt like having surgery without anesthesia. It’s why I had to kill myself. What she did when she stole my means of removing myself from her abuse, it opened the door for all my abusers to gang rape me, beginning that night and ever since. All the things they have done have been flooding my mind and body ever since the night Sylvia took me hostage, paralyzed me, and sexually savaged my body. It was painful on all levels of sensitivity. Sylvia was possessed by a demon when she raped me. The time was endless. I never felt she would stop. In fact, she didn’t stop on her own.

Jamie broke through the locked door to my study. Once she was in the room, she assessed the situation and immediately attacked Sylvia and pulled Sylvia away from me. It was at that moment when James leaped on Sylvia’s back. He latched his claws into her back while he pinned her to the floor. James is a Savannah cat. He is enormous. His weight is over 40 pounds. He sat on her, with claws dug in while Jamie called ‘911’ and the three of us waited for them to arrive.

Where was Scottie? I wanted to see Scottie. She would know what to do. But I couldn’t speak. I was in a drug haze which shut down my motor functions, including my speech center. Jamie must have seen the helplessness in my eyes, and realized I needed help right away. She tried Scottie on her cell but no answer. She sent a text, hoping Scottie would see it and come right after seeing the text.

The police and paramedics arrived, one after the other. That caught Scottie’s attention from their party. She had no idea what the fuck was going on. She followed them to where I was. Jamie had given instructions to the ‘911’ operator. Once Scottie was in my study, she looked around in a stunned fashion and asked Jamie, “What the Hell is going on here? What happened to Madison?”

Jamie explained it as much as she could figure out. Sylvia drugged Madison. She told Scottie the study door was locked and when I didn’t answer. Jamie thought that was too odd so she broke down the door. What she saw was so disturbing, she told Scottie she couldn’t describe it, except to say that Sylvia was literally raping me. She said, I was silent. I appeared unable to speak at all.

Scottie rushed over to me. I was being attended to by the paramedics. They were taking my vitals. My pulse and heartbeat were extremely slow. They called into the ER of the nearest hospital. They told the doctor on call, they had a patient who had a weak and thready pulse. They were concerned it may be a drug overdose but not self-administered. Instead the paramedic told the doctor, she felt the patient was in shock from the effects of the drug. Also, the patient had undergone a situation where she was forcibly raped by another woman who used objects, which visibly were covered in blood, that would have cause internal injuries, possibly tearing the flesh.

The paramedic went on to describe the patient, me, that I had severe cuts on my body that were still bleeding. Other bleeding came from wounds within my mouth, and internally from inside my vaginal area. How deep the injuries were could not be detected in the field. The patient needed immediate ultrasound.

I heard what she was saying to the doctor at the ER and felt like I was in a movie theatre hearing a scene after a battle in a war zone.

The female paramedic kept giving the doctor information. She told the doctor they did not know how the drug was administered or specifically what the drug was or whether there was only one drug used. Scottie was hearing all this as she stared into my eyes. I could see her tears. She held my hand and kept squeezing it as the paramedics worked on me. Her hand felt good holding mine. It took me away from the circus going on around me.

The doctor ordered the paramedics to rush me immediately to the ER for tests and to start flushing the drugs out of my system. Once that was achieved, they would do further tests to see what kind of physical damage was caused due to the attack and rape.

The paramedics secured me to the stretcher. Once it was elevated, they rushed me out of my study, taking a route that would not bring me into the area where the party was taking place. They were trying to be as sensitive as possible and to cause the least amount of added trauma to me. I was a corpse with a pulse at this point, and a thready one at that.

What I could feel is my life slipping away. How long was I with Sylvia? How long was she using my body as her own torture victim? Time was irrelevant. It has disappeared. My mind wasn’t functioning. Jamie filled me in on all of this today. All that she was able to put together herself.

The hospital was not talking to anyone about me except Scottie. Even with Scottie, they tried to give her a difficult time seeing me. I had signed a power of attorney and a living will giving Scottie control of my health. This kept the hospital from blocking her from me and my records. So Scottie was able to find out everything there was to know at present, but she decided I didn’t need to know everything.

Scottie is a great protector but I needed to know. She felt I should talk to you, Annie. It seems she has spoken to you and filled you in. Maybe you can tell me more. Jamie told me what her perceptions picked up, but she doesn’t know everything. What really happened that night?

Dr. Virginia McKinnon, my psychiatrist here at Redcliff, won’t even tell me what she knows. Her theory is, it would be too dangerous to me to have all the information at once. She was concerned it might trigger an even stronger reaction to my feeling suicidal. The information would overload my mind, and push me closer to the edge than I am already.

A new day.

Jamie, I fell asleep last night thinking of you. My wish is for you to be my emotional lover. Someone I can have feelings for but who will not abandon me. I feel Jamie is safe. She is going to be showing up soon. After our visit, I will record what happened between us.

Later, after seeing Jamie.

Jamie told me she loved me but as a friend, not someone she had romantic feelings for. I tried to explain, I just wanted to be close. No sexual demands, strictly love, pure love. She told me we could talk about this another time. When I was stronger. It seemed it really needed a better setting than a psych hospital. She wasn’t going away, but past hugging, Jamie didn’t feel she could give that to me, even though she realized I needed someone to be close to me, to hold me. “Give Scottie a chance.” That is what Jamie suggested. I wasn’t sure Scottie would want to. Scottie was not into touching and cuddling. It wasn’t what she needed from me, to make a demand of closeness. Not really a demand but a need on my part.

I decided to tell Jamie to go. We would talk soon but I needed to rest. The truth is, I wanted to be alone. Not really alone. I wanted to think about Tosh. She had been on my mind a great deal. I have been having conversations with her for a while now. The reason I haven’t mentioned it, I thought you would think I was losing it.

Now I think it’s time for me to let Tosh back into my consciousness. She has been around, wanting me to give her my attention. Annie, you do realize who Tosh is? I know I haven’t really talked much about her but maybe I need to at least free myself to listen to her. At night, she comes to me when I am trying to go to sleep. I feel her lying next to me. It’s quite safe. She is a ghost. Not like she is going to harm me. We loved each other and were only just starting to feel our closeness. When we kissed, it was like magic. Time would slow and the sensation was deep and consuming. I don’t feel either of us ever wanted to stop kissing but life was there and calling us back to reality.

Tosh was involved with a murderous woman when she met me. As we grew closer, she broke off her relationship with her ex. That woman didn’t take it well. For now, that is all I want to say about that. I just want to think about Tosh as she is now, away from the nightmare that stole her from me. Now I just want to feel her lying next to me in silence. We talk sometimes. Tosh listens to me than gives me her response. I feel her energy touching me. It feels like a total infusion.

Maybe I need to escape this world and be with Tosh. She is the only one who wants to be with me. I need Tosh. I love Tosh and want to be with her.

I know what you’re going to say, “But Tosh is dead, how can you be with her, unless you are dead.”

That is one way, but we can be together without my having to die.

I don’t want to talk about this with you right now. I’ve said too much already. The demons are going to come now and fuck with my mind and body.

I’m going now. I have two people here who seem to like me. An older woman who tells great stories but has no idea, most of the time, who she is. Her name is Helen. The other person is much younger. She is a college student. The educational system has crushed her. She is lost. For some reason, she talks to me but no one else. I like her. I feel safe with these two woman. The young woman is an artist, painter. Her name is Lynne. I think Helen, Lynne and I could become good friends. I hope so.

Annie, you have to help me. I don’t feel like I am getting better in here. It feels like my world and mind are crumbling. My body hurts. The wounds are healing but slowly. There will be scars. What’s stored in my mind is “written in my scars.” They tell the world, someone tried to shred me in order to make me disappear. I reminded them of their inherent evil when they looked at me. She was trying to destroy me in order to keep from destroying herself. But she can’t stop the destruction. The evil will eat her alive.

Goodbye, Annie.

Madison

Ps. I may not ever return from this well of darkness, but I want you to know I remembered that we met one year ago as of 2nd October 2007. Today is the 7th of October 2008. Happy Anniversary. If it weren’t for you, I would seriously be gone now.

© Madison Taylor 2008

“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

surreal spirit painting

Surreal Spirit

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Depression, the secret we share

tell me a story
Depression, the secret we share
TED Talk: Andrew Solomon
Notations by Jennifer Kiley
Created on 8th January 2014
Posted On Thursday 27th March 2014
TELL ME A STORY

Andrew Solomon: Depression, the secret we share – TED Talk

“The opposite of depression is not happiness, but vitality, and it was vitality that seemed to seep away from me in that moment.”

In a talk equal parts eloquent and devastating, writer Andrew Solomon takes you to the darkest corners of his mind during the years he battled depression. That led him to an eye-opening journey across the world to interview others with depression — only to discover that, to his surprise, the more he talked, the more people wanted to tell their own stories.

Depression. Grief. Sadness. These get confused.

Depression. When you have a catastrophic lost and six months later you are still devastated and unable to function. This is depression. “A slower way of being dead.”

You don’t think in depression you are just in a bad way. You believe you are seeing the truth. No matter what we do we are all going to just die in the end.

Depression is the family secret that everyone has.

Why do people feel a need to hide they are depressed? The stigma of having any kind of problem with the brain, unless it is medically connected, is such a misunderstanding. The brain is part of the body. If it is not functioning in a healthy way, it is a physical illness that needs treatment and concern and especially support from those who surround them, including society to find compassion and understanding.

Instead of taking someone who is depressed in a dance circle and working out the block in energy, we take them into a small dark room and make them talk about all the things that are making them feel awful.

Our needs are our greatest assets. Seeking meaning for depression. Valuing one’s depression. Learn something from depression. The opposite of depression is vitality. I love my depression because it has forced me to cling to joy.

Depression is when expressing emotions have been damaged or shut off.

Cleave to the reasons for living.

Depression is equal parts eloquent and devastating.

Private Writings: Chapter #53 — In Love With You Yesterday

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #53 — In Love With You Yesterday

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by NAME OF ARTIST
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 18th March 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #53 — In Love With You Yesterday

Tuesday 9th September 2008

Dear Annie,

Oh, Annie it was the wrong day to be out sick. If I could talk to you right now, you might be able to convince me there is a reason to stay alive. But no one, no matter how close I feel to them will be able to stop me from wanting to end it. The pain has become too much. It’s always there, on the edge of my thoughts. Whenever I let anyone into my life, or they take it over, they never fail to end up fucking me up. Literally and figuratively.

At least, I assume they are fucking me. Lately, I don’t seem to know the difference. Someone is out to gas-light me. They want to fill my mind with confusion and paranoia. The newest torture is to make me feel like I am making love with a real person. It ends up being a grand hallucination or they want me to take leave of my senses. I’m feeling like any moment I’m going to fall or be pushed over the edge.

I took a break. Now that I’ve returned to continue writing this letter, my mind has been drawn into the new theory I have been working on. When I returned, my mind was just trying grasp a new and different understanding of love. A few weeks ago, I wrote the poem “Too High On Love.” At the time, I felt like two distinct meanings were coming through. One was Pure, untouched by anyone’s awareness. A new concept, to me unheard of by human thought and unknown through human experience or awareness. It is on a special resonating level of vibration. The other meaning is on the baser level of a physical passion, but beyond the bodily response of even the most ecstatically realized sexual orgasm.

Where this will rest, I haven’t a clue yet. But I do know it has something to do with spiritual energy giving the appearance of being a combination of an electrical current transporting from outside our physical realm. It’s beyond our reality to explain. It either derives from ‘the Other Side’ or is being channeled through spirits unbeknownst the host, who has hallucinogenic experience beyond the most extremely awesome state of bliss.

That was the letter I started to write to you Annie but this is what I ended up writing after I took a break. It is very important for you to know I have been going in and out of feeling suicidal ever since the night Sylvia raped me. It is sad the courts would let her out on bail. She is evil and should be kept away from women and children. I don’t feel safe knowing she is out there anywhere. Scottie got a court order to keep her away from me. One of those ridiculously worthless pieces of paper that get people killed.

I am freaking out here. My mind is screaming out, telling me to kill myself. The pain is too much. I can’t handle the feel of her breath on my skin. Her hands forcing her touch on me. I have to find a silent way to block her out. Death is a quiet way. She can’t follow me there. It would frighten her too much. I am not afraid when I want to die. It feel perfectly natural. Death.

Here is the letter I want you to give to Jamie after I am gone. It is very important she receive the letter and the poem I wrote for her. Don’t show Scottie. I don’t want to hurt her. I love her, Scottie, completely. We are meant to be together. But I need something different. It is impossible to explain. Certain people appear in your life. Some are meant to stay forever and others are to teach you lessons. I feel Jamie is the first. She wants to be and so do I but she doesn’t understand how love works for me. I love intensely. I need a secure love and I need a pure love. They sometimes blend but usually are different from the other.

Here is my letter. The poem I will mail separately. I call it “Love Simply Love” with a subtitle of “All Is Love.” It’s Goodbye, Annie. I loved working with you. Please watch out for Scottie.

I write this note to you Annie, to give to Jamie after I am gone from here. Tell her I love her and will love her forever. I will meet up with her in a future time. Tell Jamie, I never want to say goodbye and that it is never a goodbye with her. Here is the letter I wrote to her. It is followed by a poem I want her to have. [I decided to mail the poem directly to Jamie, myself]. So, when she thinks of me after I’ve gone, she will know my true feelings for her, without any doubt left for her mind and heart and soul to puzzle over.  [This part is for you Jamie.]

Dear Jamie,

I want to tell you how I feel. Believe every word. I am not trying to run away. I just can’t bear the pain of being separated from you forever. After Sylvia raped me, it caused a deep change inside my body and my heart. It injured me more deeply than ever. It destroyed any hope that I would be able to love again. My body has betrayed me again. I can’t stand living inside this body another moment. What I feel for you Jamie, is pure love. I wrote you a poem.

This is the preface for my last poem. You absolutely absorb my mind and entire being. I love you in my words and when your words join with mine, they complete the love. If I could love with my body, I would want you to know the joyful pleasure of feeling whole with the lightness and blending of physical love. But I am incapable of loving you with the touch of my hands and flesh.

What I am capable of is to love you for your soul, your heart, and your mind. You are the most gentle of beings I know. To you I want to give over my entire being but I am unable to give over my body. What I am able to give you is my love. To hold you in the arms of my thoughts and feelings. I feel you giving me the magic touch of your emotions. You fill me with the pure sweet energy of all the love you share with me.

You my love, I desire. To have you in my life always. To dream about you. To hold you and sleep with you in spirit. To feel my self near you. To love you always in the way of faery tales where time is forever and ever after. To be happily ever after with you is to feel the love inside of love while in love.

Knowing I cannot have this with you, I decided I don’t want to be alive without you. Writing this poem is my way of giving my love to you to hold in your heart. One day we will meet again. In a different world, where love is freely shared.

I must take my leave now. My time here is up. If somehow I make it through trying to exit from this world, I will find you my love again. I will look for you and find you. I promise. My love for you is eternal. Never will I forget you. You are my pure love forever.

Love, Mandy

Goodbye Annie. I hate to go but I must. The pills are starting to make me feel really tired. I must send this to you before I can’t function. I love you, Annie.  I really do love you. Love Always, Madison @>-;—

© madison taylor 2008

Abstract Tree of Black and White by Mark Chadwick abstract tree

Abstract Tree of Black and White by Mark Chadwick

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

salvador-dali-rose-1958

Salvador Dali Rose 1958

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Private Writings: Chapter #52 — Waiting for the Fall

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #52 – Waiting for the Fall

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Painting by Alexander Segregio
Introduction & Chapter #1
Published on March 19th 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On Tuesday 11th March 2014

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
Not Suitable For Children.
All Characters Are Fictitious.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

private writings to dr. annie haskell
psychoanalyst

I am the storyteller
using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly
tell the best tale ever after upon a time

see you down the rabbit hole.
namaste! madison taylor

Private Writings: Chapter #52 — Waiting for the Fall

Tuesday 2nd September 2008

Dear Annie,

We have a problem developing. My feelings for Jamie have been growing. Their level is rising to the top of becoming extremely intense. I would say it is love. But I don’t seem to have any idea what the fuck love feels like. I get a fix on it. It all changes up. The one I love throws denial at me. Negating everything I feel exists between us. Is she lying to me? What is real between Jamie and myself. I have been attracted to Jamie since the first time I met her. Her eyes locked mine with her look. That’s why everyone loves her on the screen.

You know what I’m talking about. Look at how your daughter Rainer goes completely shy around Jamie.

Why am I talking this way. Jamie is my heroine. She rescued me from Sylvia. It was so swashbuckling. Crashing through my study door. Getting the police on the phone. Taking down Sylvia with Patrick our cat. He was a fierce one the night Sylvia raped me. I am dealing with the reality. I may not remember it all but I know she brutalized me. After she drugged me with a paralyzing effect. Date rape drug they think. I knew what was happening but I was physically unable to stop her. She violated me worse than any man could. One thing she did, I hate to talk about it. But if I write about it to you, maybe I will be able to get it out. I will write it for you. But I don’t think I want to talk about it. At least not now or ever maybe.

What I want to tell you may drive me mad someday. She touched me all over my body, inside as well. When I feel fear, I lose control of my senses. The adrenaline is fired up shooting through my veins. My blood is pumping out of fright. She took advantage of me. My fear let me down. When she touched me, my skin responded to her touch. My stomach wanted to turn into Linda Blair and spit green soup at her. And a few spins around with my head to terrify her. Instead she kept touching all the points that trigger my sexual responses. Her touches teased the responses out of my body. Until finally she won. She turned my body around and made me completely respond by losing control of my physical reactions. She forced me to react fully to her touch. It is what a rapist can do to confuse the one being abused. It makes me feel as though my body wanted it. When I know my body wasn’t cooperating, it was being coerced and forced to have a natural release from the kind of stimulation that was happening. She stole my last connection to feeling any hope of regaining my ability to respond to the touch of a lover.

I  am mad with grief that once again an abuser took those feelings away from me. How my body feels is like a traitor to our self- preservation and sanity. My mind is going mad. That awful woman raped me and stole away the most intimate part of being physically turned on. It seems only rapists can find that inner part of me. The vulnerability of intimacy has been destroyed by force. Conquering my power and stealing my essence from me. I am a shell. Emptied by a brutality I thought was over. I felt I had finally succeeded in vanquishing my abusers from my life. My sense of safety has been smashed to pieces by sexual force. I will never be able to feel trust with anyone again.

The night of the rape, Jamie crashed in my door. She threw Sylvia off of me, while Patrick, our magnificent feline, jumped on her and sunk his claws in deep, front and back. He wasn’t going to let her go. She released a blood-curdling yell at the torture Patrick’s claws were making of her back. A certain satisfaction flooded over me when I realized the rape was physically over with Sylvia but the flashbacks and memories buried from my childhood abuse were coming through the barriers. Visually perfect clearance. My senses were feeling the walls that protected me, breaking down around me. I was hallucinating a slide show of what they did to me. The many abusers my father had lined up for me and the abuse the ‘shadow mother’ perpetrated on my body, mind, soul and overall spirit, joie de vive. I lost the battle in childhood and have been in therapy ever since. My therapist doesn’t think I ever will heal. I will just grow out from it but it will be in the foundation of my life, that holds me together. If there is rot won’t it eventually collapse? That’s what I feel it’s doing now deep inside me. Slowly destroying my self, my identity, my sanity, my dreams. I am disappearing in the maze of darkness. Trapped. No way out. Can’t see anything clearly except the past and the abuse.

Jamie came to me that night after her brave rescue. We lay down together on the floor of my study. She threw a throw over us. I was shaking. Jamie’s arms wrapped around me so gently. Her hand was stroking my hair. She whispered over and over, “It will be alright.” I knew she wanted to mean that but it wasn’t ever going to be alright. It never was alright. Being forced to have a sexual response when you find that repulsive is the worse thing that can happen when you are being sexually abused as a child or as an adult. This has happened twice to me now. Once when I was 10 and my father forced me to go off with his friend. That friend of his touched me against my will and his touches awakened a feeling inside of me I never felt before. What happened then happened with Sylvia. She forced me like my father’s friend did by touching me in a way that made it impossible to fight the way my body reacted. It haunted me then and now it is complete. The destruction of trusting my body and allowing anyone to ever touch in that way again.

It is driving me mad. I don’t trust anyone. Not even Jamie, though I may want to. I know she would never do anything to harm me. She wouldn’t force herself on me in any way. So why do I feel she has abandoned me whenever she goes away or when she is silent when you expect she will be there for you. Jamie is an exceptional woman and I love her. When we talked awhile back about love. She said it is possible to feel in love with someone special without it ever having to be sexual. To feel in love can be a powerfully emotional feeling that goes beyond a casual friendship. It is an intense spiritual bonding that relates on the level of pure love. The love in energizing. It feels spectacular. It can take you higher than any sexual love is capable of reaching.

I need this feeling of in love less the sexual element. Jamie understands. I’ve talked to her about my theory before now. It is why I trust her to comfort me. She would never put on me any inappropriate feelings that I cannot handle now, but then I never have been able to handle the sexual aspects of life, not love. I try to keep love away from sex. Keeping it pure. Real but without the Tantric side the bodies needs to  express with another person.  Working out rebellious sexual feelings one can do alone. It is the safest way to stop when you want to.

It use to be a desire of mine to have the perfect lover and to make love with everything flowing perfectly. It isn’t going to happen for me. The abusers, my parents, and siblings ruined it for me to be intimate with anyone. When I am close to anyone physically, I feel like a failure. My body takes control and shuts down. It will not open up again. The only way to have sex with me is to force yourself on me. And then you need to force me to do what you want.

It is driving me quite mad. All of this mess. I just want to die. I feel it more strongly every moment I have an opportunity to think. I try to stop myself from thinking. To stop my feelings. Screaming comes to mind. The worse thing is starting to happen, the confusion is beginning to take over my psyche. In this state, everything, everyone, everywhere feels  dangerous. Now this sense of danger surrounds me. My thoughts call out with words, ‘Please, just hold me Jamie. Where is Scottie. I need Scottie too. And Alison. I need her to be close now. I need to know no one else is in danger.’ My mind can’t think of anything but feeling threatened. There is no one I can trust. Those people touched us in places without our permission. I never wanted any of it. I hate sex with men. I hate sex with anyone. I hate being used for sex. Being forced to have sex. Having sex feel so destructive. It is an invasion of intimacy when it is not wanted and never wanted from those who force it on me.

What do you suppose it feels like when someone uses your body for their own pleasures, as if you didn’t exist except in the power they can overlord you with, knowing they can rape you anytime they want. Daytime. Nighttime. When you are asleep. Wherever you are. A molester can find you. They watch you. They know your schedule and your habits. Most of all they are uncanny at their ability to find you alone in a perfect place for them to force sex on you. Mostly, they just want to fuck you or fondle you. They take pictures of your body parts. You never feel safe. Threats are always made. Be quiet. Tell no one. Or die.

I needed to get this out. What I am feeling? Am I going mad from all of this turmoil? A darkness is coming. A depression like weighted pockets and walking into the sea to drown. Except I am afraid to drown, not to die. Let me die wiped clean of these memories of Hell and Evil. Before I die, I want to know what it feels like to be loved for who I am, not by someone who wants to kidnap my body for their own games and sadistic pleasures. There isn’t satisfaction in any of this, only nightmares.

I will send this off to you Annie so you know what is developing. Last point I will add. I am in danger from myself. It is close to hiding sharp objects and extra pills. But I won’t do that. Just in case I need to go away forever.

So sorry Annie that I feel this way. Even you won’t be able to bring me back from this mess inside my head. My body is ruined. I want to get rid of it so no else can touch it again without my permission. It is wrong to touch anyone who says no. No more wrong again touches.

Love You Annie. Please don’t ever leave me.
Madison

@-;—

© madison taylor 2008

tree sun moon swirl painitng

Artist Alexander Segregio

Somewhere In Time – Composer John Barry

Pink Flower by Tom Bradshaw 2013

Pink Flower by Tom Bradshaw 2013

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Le Chateau de Rocher

Le Chateau de Rocher is Madison & Scottie’s Home

play is not just play meryl streep“Pretending is not just play. Pretending is imagined possibility” — Meryl Streep

Medicalmarijuana red cross marijuana leaf black bgMedical Marijuana

Confessions of a depressed comic

tell me a story
Confessions of a depressed comic
TEDTalk: Kevin Breel
Notations by Jennifer Kiley
Created 28th September 2013
Posted Thursday 3rd October 2013
TELL ME A STORY

Kevin Breel: Confessions of a depressed comic — TEDTalk

Published on Sept 27, 2013
Kevin Breel didn’t look like a depressed kid: team captain, at every party, funny and confident. But he tells the story of the night he realized that — to save his own life — he needed to say four simple words.

Mental Health is a serious situation in this country as well as in the rest of the world. People need to come out of the closet with what they are feeling and what they are dealing with on a daily basis. The people around them need to show more understanding and compassion and not judge how any one person is going to behave. Television, the news, media, fictional films and stories, distort how people are who suffer from depression, bipolar, schizophrenia, agoraphobia, panic disorders, the list is so long the DSM-5 has over 300 diagnoses. Before anyone judges anyone, be sure you are not amongst those who have their own mental condition in which to deal.

I am bipolar and have co-morbidity with several other diagnoses. Nothing stops me from living my life. I do not hide who I am. It is important to be truthful to myself and the world I live in. Secrets only bury one deeper into the darkness. I write myself out of the darkness when I get depressed and when I am feeling manic I write poems, work on other creative projects, I create posts for my blog “the secret keeper.” It keeps me alive and gives me something to do that makes me feel I am contributing to changing the way things are seen and maybe making something new recognized as a possibility.

Depression is a serious issue and a difficult state of mind that overwhelms the persons who experience it. Suicide is often the solution chosen by those who cannot tolerate the pain any longer. It is a wretched state to be in. The darkness surrounds you and pulls you under so deep, you feel like you will be smothered by the need to destroy yourself, to rip yourself apart. It makes me angry there is so little understanding of how devastating the feelings are when you are overwhelmed by depression. How anyone can tell you to control it, you have not reason to feel depressed. It is as though they feel you have any control. To think where you are in life or how much you have or how rich you might be, should make it impossible for you to feel depressed. Like those things have anything to do with it.

All the treasures of the world cannot stop depressions from happening. If they are holding on to you, you have to let the depression works its way out of you. It doesn’t do it by command. Meds don’t always effect it. With myself, they do absolutely nothing. I’ve tried so many different pills and combinations, I got tired of my brain feeling like it was being held under sedation and water at the same time. The ability to think was null and void. At least with depression, if one struggles, it is a creative tool with great depth. If one is able to channel the energy of depression, the creative muse delivers gifts of such depth, one would not expect to find while feeling so destructive towards one’s self. It opens up a magic doorway to knowledge not available through any other source.

I am not advocating for depression. But using it while it is punishing you, have benefits you won’t find any other time. I would let go of the depression if it were possible, even with what is produced from within the depth of their darkness. There are things in the dark one needs sometimes to find for a better understanding of life.

So speak out to end the stigma. Help people to understand what depression feels like. Talk to everyone who will listen. End the oppression from the outside to help the depression inside of you.  by Jennifer Kiley

smoky light leads to center light of universewhite light luring the spirit away

Related Site: You Can NOT Be Replaced: LINK

Related Site: Alone In the Darkness: LINK

Private Writings: Chapter #28 — Death on the Veranda

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013

Private Writings: Chapter #28 – –Death on the Veranda
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Published Introduction & Chapter #1
On 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On 1st October 2013
Dedicated to Julie Andrews. Always Wished She Were My Mother.
Happy Birthday! 1st October 1935 Day J.A. Blessed This World. Saved My Life.

WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Crypticistic Synopsis:

I am writing to Dr. Annie Haskell. My form of storytelling is through
letters containing dreams, thoughts, poems, music, describing my script
“Brief Sacrifice,” already made into a film but not yet released, psycho-
therapy, inspirations, reflective comments, the inner workings of the mind,
soul, body, emotions, and bipolar. I prefer mentally creative, interesting, or
having a brain misfiring. Included in the mix are childhood abuse, car crashes,
near drownings, drugs [the illegal kind at present], hallucinations, hypersexuality,
time warps, finding answers to unsolved mysteries, infatuation, imagination, fantasy,

and a need to discover my bliss.
See you inside.
Namaste! Madison Taylor

Private Writings: — Chapter #28: Death on the Veranda

Tuesday 1st April 2008

Dear Annie,

That was some announcement you made in group. I was stunned and couldn’t react in our session or in group today. I thought it being April Fool’s Day you were joking. First you tell us group had one more meeting, the last being next Tuesday followed by our session. Then to top that off, came the shock of the decade. The police declared Angie’s death a homicide. They arrested Dr. George. He has been charge with her murder. They feel the evidence is pretty airtight. The only thing you didn’t say was the cause of death.

A murder, I thought so all along, but Dr. George. Why would he throw away everything for her? It doesn’t sound right to me. She was not a very nice person. He must have been threatened to make him kill her. Not trying to blame the victim, but why are the police being so quiet about it all. Not a clue to go on. Curious mind wants to know. It’s driving slowly by a crash scene. You don’t want to see the gore but you do want to know what happened. Everyone does, unless they have a total lack of curiosity.

I hope he didn’t do it and a good lawyer gets him off. My feelings aside, he doesn’t deserve prison for putting up with her for ten years. We both started seeing him about the same time. He seemed alright back then, but deteriorated slowly since then. Retiring would have been one way to go, but murder. To be taken out by killing someone. That’s going a bit too far, indubitably.

I don’t mean to take this so lightly, but it is April Fool’s, remember. It all seems like a dream someone sat on and all the cream filling went smush! Should I really be serious? Angie died. I don’t miss her. Don’t even say I should, just little. Never. Not ever. She stuck me every week with her sarcasm and fucked up sense of propriety. Homophobia, she took to an extreme. She was twisted. Perverse. Jealous, I have someone who loves me. Couldn’t stand anyone being happy, if she wasn’t. I know she was definitely pissed off at the whole fucking world, like it owed her something.

Well, I do not miss her. Maybe sorry she was murdered. That part is terrible. It hurts her kids. I remember what I said when we all first heard about it, I said her kids would have a better life. But I am sure they are hurting now. It creeps me out thinking about it.

You mentioned in group, at the close, there is another group forming soon. It would be a selected group. More specific but you didn’t say how specific. I should have asked you in session but it slipped my mind. Feeling depressed for the past several days needed more attention.

Everything felt so lost. The more I felt myself slipping away from the real world, the deeper the pain was cutting into my flesh. Wanting to make myself hurt with physical pain was my only distraction from wanting to kill myself. Wanting to die was so powerful. A voice was speaking to me, “how do you think your friends and Scottie and your animals feel if you died by killing yourself.” It is my animals and Scottie who keep me around. And the friend who spoke those words, she, also, keeps me alive. I couldn’t hurt any of them, not in taking my own life. I have no control over feeling depressed. It is build into the misfiring of my brain.

Being bipolar gives me such highs. I write the sharpest dialogue and scenes are filled with life. When I’m depressed, I find a way of using those moments to be creative, also. But the pain courses through my blood, wanting to burst through like a gusher. The pressure in my head, to scream out the need to beat myself, to make myself bleed. Depression is so difficult to talk about, everyone backs away from it. They don’t get it. The worse things a person can do to a person who is feeling this way is to tell them to “Snap Out of It,” or “Get Over It, ” and the best, “What Do You Have to be Depressed About? You’ve got a great life.”

Depression has nothing to do with what you have or how much money in your bank account. You could be the wealthiest person in the world. Depression doesn’t acknowledge the means of one’s life. Graduating college Head of the Dean’s List, head of your class, editor of the college paper, that isn’t recognized when you want to kill yourself. Being nominated for an Oscar, absolutely nothing in it stops depression. When Depression wants to grab ahold of you, pull you down or push you closer and closer to the edge, nothing will stop it but trying to refocus its’ intentions. It feels an entity onto itself, with more power then I have inside of me to fight it.

I have won all the battles so far, but they are not through with me. Probably never will be. It is my battle to have two prominent sides to my bipolar. I am just so excited when I am excited because I am not depressed. There is a catch. Being high on life when bipolar can spin you too far to the upper end. You can get too high. Once again, the possibilities of losing control.

I want to switch over to a quick look into “Brief Sacrifice.” I have one piece for you this week from the script. There is a secret organization trying to locate the Friends of Nikola Tesla. They want to destroy them. They know something is changing. They know Carter McLeod is in possession of the Silver Box, and that it holds magical powers. They want to retrieve this and the person who holds it. Their anagram is GEUSS. Pronounced as the word “Guess.” I will tell you in my next letter about the initials and what the anagram means.

We should really talk about what I wrote and the poem I know I am going to write after I finish this letter.

It makes me feel so happy your being in my life.

Fondly,

Madison

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

<em>Somewhere In Time – John Barry</em>

calla_lily_bunch

Calla Lily Bunch

rain in garden gif

Screaming Death
Written by Madison Taylor
1st April 2008

Screaming death
Life ending
Beginning
Dying

Living has too many endings
Once there
Disappearing
Into invisible air

Pain fills the heart
Exploding like fireworks
Shooting stars
Covering the sky

Blood spurting
From dying flesh
Taken out
By the enemy

All is stolen
Dreams
Memories
Not yet lived

Just gone
All is gone
Ripped apart
Stolen away from love

© madison taylor 2008

Reflecting Abstract Artist --- Jaison Cianelli

Reflecting — Abstract Art — Artist — Jaison Cianelli

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212 Patrick-our Bengal cat up in his tree-Scottie’s buddy

Havana Brown Kitten  Madison and Scottie's kitten One of the Two   800x600

Havana Brown Kitten Madison & Scottie’s. This cutie is Toker. He has a twin brother Mikey

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher framed

English Country Gardens Chateau de Rocher

play is not just play meryl streep

Why Do We Sleep?

tell me a story
Why Do We Sleep?
TED Talk: Russell Foster
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Created 21st August 2013
Posted Thursday 19th September 2013
TELL ME A STORY

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LWULB9Aoopc
Russell Foster: Why Do We Sleep? TEDTalk

will this help u sleep anoes freddie

Freddy Kruger Nightmare on Elm Street

Point #1

We think of sleep as something we need a cure for
rather then treating it as something we all need.

Point #2

Lack of sleep causes weight gain.

Point #3

The body craves carbohydrates.

Point #4

Sustained stress due to lack of sleep.

Point #5

Glucose gets thrown into the mixture with sleep loss
which eventually leads to diabetes.

is this your face in nightmares  iotbs kevin mccarthy

Kevin McCarthy in Invasions of the Body Snatchers

Point #6

Try not to drink caffeine late in the day.
Preferably not after lunch.

Point #7

There are morning people and evening people.
I find that morning people are just horribly smug.

Point #8

Mental illness and sleep.
Sleep disruption is associated with mental problems.

Point #9

Sleep was irregular.
Stayed up late at night and slept during the day.

Point #10

Genes are connected to normal sleep.

don't sleep  tnotbs ds

Donald Sutherland in [newer version] Invasions of the Body Snatchers

Point #11

Genes connected to mental illness
smashes your sleep.

Point #12

High risk to develop Bipolar with sleep disruption.

Point #13

Lack of sleep exacerbates symptoms of mental illness.

Point #14

Take sleep seriously.

Point #15

We use to understand the importance of sleep.

Point #16

If you get enough sleep,
it improves your moods,
anger,
mental health.

Spontaneous — A Need To Talk

Spontaneous — A Need To Talk
Tupac Shakur Wrote His Own Death

Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Created Monday 2nd September 2013
Posted on Monday 2nd September 2013
SPECIAL EDITION

While searching out something to help me understand what I am feeling at this moment, I came upon an article on Tupac Shakur, who wasn’t diagnosed but there are beliefs he was bipolar. It shows in his lyrics and street-rap. The up and down moods. I have been in my own up and down spiral. Manic and now depressed. There is not direct reason or evidence you notice. It comes on suddenly and smashes the world inside and around you.

Tupac Shakur

Tupac Shakur

Every thing becomes so heavy. The pain shuts you down. Nothing else matters. Pushing the world away. Wanting to run away, feels like the only thing to do. There’s been too much stimulation from the high I have been in. Playing games with Shawn. Making them up as we go along. Being inventive. It was exciting and fun. I let myself enjoy the moment. Rather then being so driven. But now the energy has been pulled away from me. The excitement has disappeared. Now I just want to poof! disappear into nothingness.

 It took five attempts till they killed him

It took five attempts till they killed him

Here is a small section of what I read from the first article, which inspired this post, I chose in PsychCentral’s Blog Post: Tupac Shakur & Bipolar Disorder

Wordsworth and Coleridge define poetry as, “The spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings,” and written by someone “possessed of more than usual organic sensibility, but also thought long and deep.” Tupac Shakur’s confessional poetry swims in powerful emotion mixed with straight truth found in his sensibility brought forth through deep thought and contemplation coupled with observation of the world around him. The need to seek and manifest truth sits at the heart of Shakur who was often loathed for his hard core vision of truth rooted in his ongoing “spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings,” which flow in his rhythmic lyrics, his beats, and his tone. Honest self-expression that overflows with emotion and carries “organic sensibility” and “thought long and deep are unveiled:”

IN THE EVENT OF MY DEMISE

Now as I stand here, a man here

Not a perfect one, but a searching one

Seek in another, blazing time

Sound crazy but I’m actually trying to escape my mind….

From out the darkness I struggle to see the light ….

But all of them will dream

That I did it my way

In the event of my demise

VIOLENCE
by Tupac Shakur

They claim that I’m violent, just cause I refuse to be silent

These hypocrites are having fits, cause I’m not buying it

Defying it, envious because I will rebel against

Any oppressor, and this is known as self defense

I show no mercy, they claim that I’m the lunatic.

I CRY
by Tupac Shakur

Sometimes when I’m alone I Cry, Cause I am on my own.
The tears I cry are bitter and warm. They flow with life but take no form
I Cry because my heart is torn.I find it difficult to carry on.
If I had an ear to confiding, I would cry among my treasured friend,
but who do you know that stops that long,to help another carry on.
The world moves fast and it would rather pass by.
Then to stop and see what makes one cry,so painful and sad.
And sometimes…I Cry and no one cares about why.

My feelings are he knew he was going to die. Several attempts had been made before his life ended, being taken out in an ambush. He was beautiful and sensitive. Tupac Shakur’s words were honest, sensitive and direct.

What is the point of life if you don’t live it honestly, sensitively and direct. Don’t waste your time trying to make life pass by filling it with ways to “pass the time.” BE REAL IN THE MOMENT. Going mindless and numb from car crashes, to near drownings inside, what is the point of being alive if you aren’t alive.

At this moment, I am in a depressed state. A bipolar depressed state, which comes with a side of thoughts and strong urges to commit suicide. I feel like I have pulled back from who I am. Trying to be someone else. I have no real idea of what that means but I feel like I have lost myself. The sky is falling like a meteorite. It’s going to crash through the earth’s atmosphere and like the scene in the film ‘Donnie Darko,’ a jet engine falls from the sky and crashes in through the roof over his bedroom. It kills him. Don’t worry, it’s a weird film and you know this from moment one of the film. Highly recommend if you like quirky and Jake Gyllenhaal.

The place I am going is where life happens. We are never expecting some of what happens. It can be sudden and drastic, life altering change. I love who Tupac Shakur was. His life was real. He lived real. It can be dangerous but it is also exhilarating. It makes you want to live but it makes you want to die, too. At least for those bipolar and some other forms of brain malfunctions.

I have lived the life of a cat and used up many of my lives through car crashes so bad, no way should have survived. I did through the acts of miracles. One person didn’t and another friend and I broke our necks. He is a painter/artist with exhibitions behind him and before him but breaking his neck incapacitated him. He is now able to draw and do some artwork. Mine has effected me by giving me extreme pain. I finally had to endure neck surgery and had a disc removed and a plate put in to secure my neck from paralyzing me. I came split seconds away from almost drowning three times. Was rescued each time, just before I would have inhaled water.

One is never assured a perfect and safe life but we have been given this unusual opportunity to experience all of our senses, at least most of us have. Being depressed and feeling suicidal is an intense experience. In Bipolar In Order, you learn to accept these feelings of being down as part of the experience of being bipolar. Learning to go through the feelings are part of your being alive. Let the feelings be with you. Instead of a curse, I’d rather see them as an intense learning experience.

Ride the wave of depression, just watch out for the under toad, as the son in ‘The World According to Garp’ would say. He always thought the undertow in the ocean sounded like the under toad. That’s what it became to Walt, who ended up having a very short but loving life with a great imagination that was nurtured. The author of ‘Garp,’ John Irving, also, wrote the book ‘Hotel New Hampshire.’ One of the characters, Lily, had a particular saying. It was: “Keep passing the open windows.” Obviously, this line is a euphemism for don’t kill yourself.

It really isn’t a good idea even though it seems so at the time. It does bring on a powerful urge to want to check out from this life but it is only temporary as a bad idea for a solution. Most of the time it is because you can’t handle the strength and intensity of the overwhelming feelings of being lost, feeling hopeless, and feeling like there is no one out there, when deep down you know there is. If you feel you need a hotline, I will post some contacts at the bottom of this post. Don’t give up. You think if you don’t matter, why put yourself through horrible feelings of pain you know are always going to make return visits and always bring new more horrible surprises of deeper and darker downward spirals. “This to shall pass.”

It makes me wonder if Tupac wasn’t setting himself up with his words and songs. These are just my own observations coming from how intense he was in everything he did. He was right out there. He may have set himself up subconsciously to be killed rather than having to do it himself. I am just theorizing. My thoughts are not based on anything I know for a fact. I just know how it feels to be self-destructive.

I have written myself out of the dark place I was falling into. It can be worked through. Everyone needs to find the way that works for them. Some people run or walk their dog. Others paint or cook. What you need to do is find a constructive way to be with your depression and the strong urges to want to end your life. That is what suicide is, besides just a call for help or an escape from the pain or a hopeless situation. You want to feel you’re not alone.

If you are being bullied because you’re different, gay, lesbian, transgender or any other feeling different, you are not alone. We, who are different are here and we all want to help one another. Bullies enjoy feeling the power over others and try to steal yours by insulting you, putting you down, trying to make you feel less about yourself, or they may even get violent. They need to be stopped and you need to turn to someone to help you through this. There are many people you can contact who will help you. It may be a matter of needing someone to help you understand what is happening inside you and how you feel inside about what is happening to you.

Just do not choose the option to kill yourself. Take away killing yourself as an answer to making the pain and hurt go away. I promise I will post numbers and other choices of contacts. Use them if you need help.

If You Need Help. You Are Being Bullied. Or If You Are Feeling Depressed And Thinking About Harming Yourself Or Thinking About Suicide. Please Do Not Harm Or Kill Yourself. There Are Better Ways To End The Pain And Hurt. I Have Listed IMALIVE. A Site Online Where You Can Chat With Someone If You Are In A Bad Place.

Other Ways To Help Yourself Through The Depression Or Feeling Pain And Hurt Is Through Creating. Find What You Like To Do That Helps To Calm You Down And Find Relief From The Pressure You Are Feeling. Please Contact A Hotline Or Go To The Online Chat. I Hope You Find This Helps. Just Stay Safe. Don’t Let The Bullies Win. They Are Not Worth Letting In. You Are More Important Than They Are. A Great Film To Watch If You Are Being Bullied Is The Movie “Bully.” Please Let The Good People In Who Want To Help You. Be Careful. Remember You Are Not Alone. We Care. Reach Out. Let Someone Reach Back.

The Numbers to Contact are below:
TALK: 800-273-8255
SUICIDE HOTLINE: 800-784-2433

logo imalive  chat

chatnow  iamalive

The ONLINE CONTACT IS:

https://www.imalive.org

IMALIVE — Live Chat

Please if you feel in crisis and need someone to talk to use anyone of the above contacts.

Aerosmith — Dream On

Favorite Top Ten Sylvia Plath Quotes

Favorite Top Ten Sylvia Plath Quotes
Written by Sylvia Plath
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created on Sunday 18th August 2013
Posted On Sunday 25th August 2013
A Writer’s Word

Fertility --- Artist Allen  3264x2397

Fertility — Artist Allen

Quote #10

“I write only because
There is a voice within me
That will not be still.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #9

“Is there no way out
of the mind?”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #8

“The worst enemy to creativity
is self-doubt.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #7

“I shut my eyes
and all the world drops dead;
I lift my eyes
and all is born again.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #6

“I talk to God
but the sky is empty.”

— Sylvia Plath

Pollock 32   733x432

Pollock 32

Quote #5

“Perhaps when we find ourselves
wanting everything,
it is because we are dangerously close
to wanting nothing.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #4

“I lean to you,
numb as a fossil.
Tell me I’m here.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #3

“With me, the present is forever,
and forever is always shifting,
flowing, melting.
This second is life.
And when it is gone it is dead.
But you can’t start over
with each new second.
You have to judge by what is dead.
It’s like quicksand…
hopeless from the start.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #2

“When at last you find someone
to whom you feel you can pour out your soul,
you stop in shock at the words you utter —
they are so rusty, so ugly,
so meaningless and feeble
from being kept
in the small cramped dark
inside you so long.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #1

“I must be lean & write
& make worlds beside this
to live in.”

— Sylvia Plath

Pollock 1 1949   864x529

Pollock 1 1949

Private Writings: Chapter #22 — Outraged Fortune

private writings to a psychoanalyst (c) Jk 2013
Private Writings: Chapter #22 — Outraged Fortune
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Published Introduction & Chapter #1 On 19th March 2013
Published Early Tuesday AM
Posted On 20th August 2013
WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.

ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

Private Writings: Chapter #22 — Outraged Fortune

Tuesday 19th February 2008

Annie,

You would be proud of me today, Annie. I finally stood up to Dr. George in a once-and-for-all confrontation. I told him off during our private session. The usual mood of unrest was between us. But today the hostility seemed more heightened. The session started almost immediately with animosity. I spoke honestly about my feelings regarding a specific group member who I felt had been treating me with contempt and judgement. She’d made it impossible for me to feel safe and supported in the group especially by Dr. George.

Other members of the group were contemptuous toward me, also, with two exceptions. Kristina was one women who supports me and the other woman is you, Annie. I must tell you, I am so grateful to you for standing by me, helping me feel some sense of security. Well, for some time in our private sessions, whenever I was honest about how a group member made me feel, he would say I was being critical and always come to their defense, without any words of support for me. Not even to say I’d made good observations, maybe we should talk about why I felt that way. What specifically is it they do that bothers me. Instead he would tell me my reality was imaginary. He told me my feelings were inappropriate and I was overreacting. What I thought was happening wasn’t remotely close to accurate. He accused me of delusional, irrational thinking.

Well, I tried to be reasonable and told him specifics of a particular day. I was exacting in detail of what was said and how. I held nothing back. My angry persona was fed up with my therapist’s bullshit and let him have it full force. I told him this group member was racist, homophobic, classist and her language was disgraceful, calling lesbians and gay men, derogatory terms, and with black people, she used the ”N” word. People who didn’t have her wealth, they were beneath her and didn’t deserve to live. I am holding back and being rather kind describing her language and the way she thought about and acted toward others.

He told me I was cruel and used unimaginable criticisms. That was enough for me. All those years of therapy holding back the anger sent my angry persona flying into an extremely powerful rage, telling Dr. George to go fuck himself. It didn’t matter it was Angie who was the center of the emotional storm setting off the rage and the insulting behavior of Dr. George. She was dead and possibly murdered, but delicacy, when it concerned Angie, meant nothing to me. For years Angie had been treating me like shit. Mourning her loss did not fit when I felt such loathing for her. Yes. I knew her children didn’t deserve the pain, but maybe they were lucky to be out from under her influence. Please don’t feel I went too far saying those words. Enduring this monster from Hell for too many years, has been an act of punishment for the entire group.

Dr. George couldn’t stop himself. A sign he was losing his professionalism completely. He repeated his words, I was cruel and unfeeling, calling me the monster. I lost it. My limit had been reached of what I would take from him. My angry persona went into a blinding rage and did something we hadn’t done since we were young. We pushed our body out of our chair, crossed to his office door, opened it and walked through it. With the greatest of forward motion, using all our strength, we slammed his door as hard as our strength would allow, sending an echoing of splintering wood throughout the clinic. I preceded to walk vigorously through the halls proceeded to the Clinic exit, leaving the building swiftly, knowing I had no intention of returning.

You will hear about my indiscretion, I am sure and it will be a biased version told by my ex-fucked-up doctor. I hear his words now saying I was disrespectful of him and of Angie’s memory. I tell you the truth, Annie. Angie was a terrible person. No one liked her, she was intimidating. Dr. George will tell everyone at the morning meeting I am having a mental meltdown, adding I said horrible things about Angie, I am crazy, unbalanced, delusional, irrational, a touch mad or crazy, whichever you prefer. I am none of these. Dr. George is the one who fits this description. Standing up for myself, I would say I am a complicated and have lived a rather colourful and traumatizing life,and someone who needs the assistance of psychotherapy to help me through the mix up, fucked up feelings crashing around in my brain.

I am depressed half the time and so fucking moody, anxious, suicidal on a regular basis but then the opposite. I float high and creativity floods my mind. Time stops. I move through space alone. The Universe is mine. It’s a grand and bloody good high. A no drug zone.

What a liberating experience, finally standing up to Dr. George. He’s been draining my soul of energy from the start. I had to find the force in myself to get past his influence. I know you’re thinking or I’m projecting thoughts onto you, ‘Why did I stay with him?’ Fear. Fear of finding the truth. Would I lose control. Go over the edge if I entered the real world. I felt I needed the familiarity of being destroyed by someone in authority. Dr. George was the perfect fit.

Started with my parents, family and abusers rolled into a perfect trauma circle, followed by bosses, but then came college and I thought I was released. College was an experience outside of time. I was stoned most of my waking hours. I even had an affair with the husband of one of my professors. I didn’t want to have sex with him. I hate sex. I hate it more with men. I didn’t want sex with him. It’s part of what is wrong with me. In college, I met my first real love. A woman of high intelligence and a sense of humour I couldn’t resist. Her opening comment to me, something so simple: “Do you have the notes for the last Western Civ class?” I turned around to see whose face went with the voice, the sensual sound that woke me from my fog. “Why, yes I do.”

“Did you study for the test?” Her next question. Of course, I had. I was one of those students who were always prepared and didn’t have to make an effort or more like didn’t want to make an effort because it all came too easily for me. It fucks you up, you know, to be that way. You miss out on the connection to what you’re learning. Now I concentrate and dig into what I want to learn. Now, I want to understand.

After we got to know each other, she told me, honestly, she thought I was a snob before she first approached me. Me. I’m an extremely shy introvert, yes, but not a snob. More afraid to talk students. Chose to hang out with professors, instead. They were easier to talk to. Once this female student and I got to know one another, we became inseparable. A growing friendship we could acknowledge but nothing more that was between us. It would have been too much for both of us. But love did happen. The lover came out in both of us during a stoned and wine induced high. My response to her saying we needed some guys to have sex was and I quote: “Why do we need men?”

It was the night I drove out some demons temporarily. Love happened there. It was the highest high. So, that was what was missing, I was/am a lesbian. Now, don’t misunderstand. It isn’t that easy. She left for another college, the transfer went through a short time later. I went into a deep depression. Dropped acid. Wanted to kill myself and my life suddenly took a totally new fork in the pathway to my future.

Now, before I close this letter out, I want to mention something about ‘Brief Sacrifice.’ Carter, through the clues, had found the passage on page 62, in the book ‘Somewhere In Time,’ that James, one of her three Savannah cats, the other two were Jasper and Jax, had led her to. This week James points out further information to break the code to open the leather briefcase. There is a number dial on the front of the briefcase on the flap locking it shut. There were, also, instructions on what to read in ‘Somewhere In Time.’ A certain passage was necessary to help understand the meaning for opening the briefcase. The meaning regards what’s contained inside what is inside the briefcase. The double inside meaning is there is a triple layer to penetrate to get to the contents. Once the contents are revealed, the real mystery will begin.

The passage is a long mantra needing to be memorized after being read and repeated until its effects transport you. It is self-explanatory. Carter opens up ‘Somewhere In Time’ looking for what the clue wants her to find. It, also, states once the passage is discovered it needs to be altered according to what the contents in the inside of the inside secret reveals. Those contents will explain what the alteration should be. For now it is just necessary to locate the passage, read it, write it down and then memorize it completely as if it were your life mantra for meditation.

The passage is found on page 95 and reads as follows: “[Some parts I will omit because of length but will include those which make sense of what is being said in Richard Collier’s mind.] It’s Thursday, November 19, 1896. You’re lying on your bed in Room 527, eyes closed. The sun has gone down and it’s dark out. Night is falling on this Thursday at the Hotel del Coronado: Thursday, November 19, 1896. The lights are being turned on in the hotel now. The light fixtures are for both gas and electricity but the gas is not used…”

“…At this moment, every room is heated by a fireplace. This room, 527, is being heated by a fireplace. At this moment in the darkness of this Thursday, November 19, 1896, a fire is burning in the hearth across from you; crackling softly, sending waves of heat into the room, illuminating it with firelight…”

“…Elise McKenna is in the hotel at this very moment; perhaps in the theatre checking some detail of her production…scheduled for tomorrow night…So, too, is her manager, William Fawcett Robinson. So, too, her acting company. All their rooms are being heated by fireplaces; as is this room, Room 527, on the late afternoon of Thursday, November 19, 1896…”

“You’re lying quietly, at peace, your eyes closed, in this room in 1896, November 19, 1896…Soon you will get up and leave the room and find Elise McKenna. Soon you will open your eyes on this dark afternoon in November 1896 and walk into the corridor and go downstairs and find Elise McKenna. She is in the hotel now. At this very moment. Because it is November 19, 1896. November 19, 1896.”
(And so on, for another twenty pages,)

Richard Collier’s thoughts: ‘I’m thinking more and more of the fact that, in going back, I am to be the cause of the tragedy which fills this face; I have her photograph in front of me on the writing table. Have I a right to do this to her? I know I have already done it. Yet, there again, increasingly, I sense a variable factor in the past as well as in the future. I don’t know why I feel it but I do. A feeling that I have a choice of not going back if I wish. I feel this intensely.’

“What do you suppose this means, James, Jasper. What about you, Jax? Wouldn’t you go back if you had the chance. He, obviously, is drawn to her. She wouldn’t have appeared to him before she dies if she didn’t want the experience. Right? But what is all this saying to us? Are we somehow going to find something to do with time travel in all this mystery? What if it is? What would we do with it? Well, actually, there are many things I would like to discover. There are many mysteries that have never been solved or resolved in an honest way. If someone went to the past, they could watch as history unfolds. Secrets hidden away. Never solved deaths. It all intrigues me. I know there are a list of mysteries. To find out the real truth. Hmm. How many lies have we been given in place of the truth.”

“Let’s try those numbers and letters you figured out James. I want to see if they work. What’s inside and inside what is inside of this briefcase, has me going mad. Come on, guys, first number is 7. [Carter rolls the dial to the 7.] The next number is 49. [Carter rolls the next dial around to 49.] What is next James? The number is 3. [Carter repeats the motion to 3.] Next up is a letter. What is it, please. The letter is ‘J’ capitalized. [Carter goes to the next set of dials and takes the first one to the letter ‘J.’] Next letter is a capital ‘E.’ [Carter takes the dial to the capital ‘E.’] What is the last letter, James? We are almost there. The letter is the capital letter ‘N.’ [Carter slowly roles the dial delicately, so no error is made. She stops when the capital ‘N’ comes up.] Okay, guys, here is what we have been working towards. Are you three ready to find out if we did it right? Or more excited that we did and we are about to open this leather beauty and discover the hidden treasure. Okay, slide the lever over. Please release the lock. Just please let’s hear a click and release.”

Carter slid the lever to the left and in a split second the sound of silence, listening. Did it click? “YES!!! Boys, the lock opened. Flip the flap over and open the briefcase, right now.” The flap gracefully fell back over to the other side of the briefcase and the mouth opened. The insides were opened. Now time to look inside. Carter and James, Jasper and Jax all gathered round. Carter pulled back the opening and reached inside to bring out the contents. In her hand she held a sleek silver case 3 inches high, 7 inches wide, and 5 inches deep. Placing it gently on the coffee table, Carter and her boys just stared at what lay before them. It glistened. The silver was shiny like a highly polished magic mirror. Everything in the room reflected off of its surface.

What to do next. How were they going to open this silver box? There were no seams. No lock. The surface was totally smooth, as though it was melded into its shape. It was light, Carter told her babies. “Whatever it contains holds some powerful magic. I am sure it is hollow and something is hidden within that holds great power. Look at the clues. We will find a way inside. We will learn the mystery of this mini-monolith of unyielding precious silver. We look to you James. You probably already know what we are looking at. You are looking through it into its mystery. You know. I can tell. It is in your glistening eyes. When ever you are ready, James.”

Carter smiled. They made a huge pile in Carter’s lap for a group hug of fur and flesh blending in warmth and love, sprinkled with a sliver of curiosity.

And so ends the tale today.

At least, I have my storytelling to escape into, Annie. Murder. Rejection. Madness. Scottie is back but is sleeping right now. I haven’t talked to her yet about Dr. George. She will laugh, I am certain. Her relief will shine all over her face. Ideas of ways to rid me of Dr. George have been circling her mind almost from the day I walked into his office. I stopped writing for a time after I started seeing him. He really sucked the soul right out of me. So does his supervisor, Dr. Reagan, my psychiatrist. She either enjoys conflict or she has no idea what she is talking about. I’ve always wondered about all those multiple degrees on the walls of professionals. They are paper without a story. Written up shortly after someone offers up proof they did their dissertations and a certain number of hours treating patients at a crazy institute. The keepers are the crazy ones and the inmates are their captors.

I hope you are not like any of the others I’ve seen. They fucked with my mind. Some I fell in love with or had crushes on. It was those who thought they would bond and then rip my heart out by leaving before my time was up for needing them. It all sucks but I am afraid I am addicted to the process. It is my faith or belief system. Looking inside to see the bigger picture. The universe or Goddess or the Matrix is connected through the insides of us all. We know or try to find out the secrets or a clue that might help make dying and our soul leaving us not such a terrifying thought. We know it is an eventual experience. Is it really our soul to begin with or to end with?

Until next time. I miss you. I need you to take care of me for a while. Guide me in a direction that points to a better place to live inside myself. You are what I have and need now.

Fondly & Needing You,
Madison

Sets & Animals for Film: Brief Sacrifice with Lead Character CARTER MCLEOD. [Portrayed by BAFTA Nominated Actor NATALIE STEPHENS] Savannah Cats are Carter’s. Screenplay: MADISON TAYLOR. Director: SCOTTIE ANDREWS Production Co.: INFINITE IMAGINATIONS, INC. [TRIPLE III] {Madison Taylor & Scottie Andrews Formed Their Production Co. 10 year ago in 1997.}

'Brief Sacrifice' English Garden 734x492

‘Brief Sacrifice’ English Garden

Brief Sacrifice film Savannah cats---Jasper & Jax when 10 week old kittens

Brief Sacrifice film Savannah cats—Jasper & Jax when 10 week old kittens

'Brief Sacrifice' Film Set Library 626x626

‘Brief Sacrifice’ Film Set Library

Every Detail in the Two Story Living Room Is Done with Precision from the Crown Moldings to the Carvings on the Fireplace  800x600

Every Detail in the Two Story Living Room Is Done with Precision from the Crown Moldings to the Carvings on the Fireplace

Edelweiss   674x587

Edelweiss

Annie Haskell --- Madison Tayler's Psychoanalyst's Office

Dr. Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst

Somewhere In Time – John Barry

rain in garden gif
Deeper Clarity
Written by Madison Taylor
Monday 19th February 2008

Deeper clarity
Opens my eyes so I might see
The world I live in
How it surrounds and grounds
Further inside of me
Where I cannot touch the way it feels
The numbness cuts out the things not so real
What I love seems to feel lost
Disconnected from the center
Wandering blindly in search of meaning

Invisible sight beyond clarity
Lead me to the obscurity of lose
Where is the understanding?
What holds a world together?
Appearing as a disintegrating edifice
Of unrecognizable signs of life
Meaning is lost
Unable to grasp a hold of security
Drowning from lack of contact
It disappears

With it I follow into invisibility
The universe is disappearing
Usually stated ‘before my eyes’
But without feeling
The touch of anything
Makes transparent
All physical reality
No senses to perceive a truth
No truth to acknowledge existence
Lost in the desert of sand and wind

Nothing recognizable
Blown away with the last breath
Dreams are forgotten
Did they ever exist?
Or were they made up and destroyed
All in one instant
Never established as possible
Or real
Just pretend as children do
The sky is blue

As for a reflection of the ocean
Why then is the ocean blue?
But from a reflection from the sky
They echo each other’s reality
Which makes me think
We are all mirrors reflected images
Repetitions of all existence
Bringing the conclusion
We all are one
In a reflection of a continuous one

And what gives the one meaning?
Isn’t a connection to something
What gives something meaning?
Are we all a dream
In one mind
Played out on a stage
Of an imaginary universe?
Does this bring clarity
Or more confusion?
Where is the understanding?

Where is the meaning?
What is the purpose of it all?
Why are we here? Now?
Or at any time?
Slipping into the dark hole
The proverbial black hole
Where darkness takes hold
Sight isn’t necessary
Nothing there to be seen
Holding a physical dimension

A magnetic union
A force powerful enough
To pull you away from reality
And higher ground
Losing the controls
Battling is futile
Surrender is necessary
Tripping over boulders of truth
Gripping hold of anything solid
While the quicksand pulls at you

Trapping you without warning
All the meaning is evaporating
Clarity is lost in a mind shut down
Bipolar twisting as a tornado
The magnetic force failing
Depression is in full control
Must go with its commands
Fighting is resistance inside out
No strength remains
The power is drained

Where once there was joy
Now there sits despair
No one cares to be scared
It is buried too deep to remove
The mind is on its own
It has no power here
To analyze a solution
Surrendering on one’s own terms
Nothing acceptable but waiting
Lasting till the emotional storm passes

Eventually-level ground returns
Back to self with reality in place
Black holes out of reach
From sucking the soul
Right out of the body
Whole again
Sane again
Resurfacing to regularly scheduled channels
Illusions escape my memory
Realness of truth restored.

© madison taylor 2008

Messed Mindscape  808x608

Messed Mindscape

“A Dream
The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor

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English garden off the back marble patio

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick when he was five weeks. He is a Bengal kitten. Madison gave to Scottie as a present for her Birthday. As he grows he becomes devoted to her.

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. He loves Scotties. They are buddies.   1612x1212

Patrick is our Bengal cat in tree. It is protected area. Patrick cannot leave property from there. He loves Scottie. They are buddies.

Living Room Ope Wide with Windows

Living Room Open Wide with Windows

Chateau de Rocher Art Gallery  999x752

Chateau de Rocher Art Gallery

Dreams of Elysium by Ann Marie Bone  Scottie gave this painting as a present to Madison for your Birthday. She had fallen in love with the colours and the dreamlike state she would transcned into when she meditated while gazing into it  900x669

Dreams of Elysium by Ann Marie Bone Scottie gave this painting as a present to Madison for her Birthday. She had fallen in love with the colours and the dreamlike state she would transcend into when she meditated while gazing into it.

Bedroom Madison and Scottie Share with High Windows --- Great During Thunderstorms & Rain

Bedroom Madison and Scottie Share with High Windows — Great During Thunderstorms & Rain

Glass Ceiling  3977x2848

Glass Ceiling

play is not just play meryl streep