Stupid Girls

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

I'm so scared

You are reading

I should have left for my morning walk by now; it's after six am.

But I'm rather frozen to the sofa.

I'm shaking. I'm breathing hard. My heart's pounding.

I'm telling myself, again and again, "it's only fear; it's only pain."

I'm hoping I can love my body back to a normal heart rate and respiration. She's rebelling against what I'm about to do to her, and I don't blame her.

HOW will I get back from dental appointments, dazed, terrified and in pain?

I've been so brave! I've done so MUCH, all alone!

And here it comes: the death of my daughter; opening my War Zone home to the neighbor kids, to try to heal from that; the blatant persecution by city agencies & the local "neighborhood" association, the La Mesa CIA (Community Improvement Association); the stalking; the cops and paramedics who not only didn't believe I was being stalked, but threatened to have me arrested for calling them for help; the beating; the homelessness; the sexual exploitation while I was homeless; the BAD places I've lived since, that make THIS apartment bldg, full of mentally ill, alcoholics and drug addicts look like Nirvana by comparison; the abuse in the News Department at KUNM... I have to face ALL of it.

I'm being offered a great opportunity: I get to come Home to Myself. I get to produce radio. I get to love women.

I get to be Rogi again, not some pared-down, small, restricted ghost of my Self.

I get to be the Changer and the Changed again.

How can I kiss a woman, with a mouth full of rotten teeth? The bacteria can transmit from my mouth to her body!

Loving women is my Greatest Gift! I will NEVER offer my sickness to a lover!

How can I participate in political meetings, with a warrant out for my arrest? Hell, I have campus police questioning my right to be at UNM, based on GOSSIP! How can I attend lectures and meetings, work at KUNM, etc., with a constant threat of arrest, looming over my head?

I can't dump this on the newly-forming friendships I'm forming. It's too big a responsibility. It's not THEIR trauma! I need professional help: someone who's PAID to hear my trauma!

I need to approach the people to whom I'm drawn as an equal, not as a victim.

Ok, I've talked myself into going for my walk now.

One step at a time.

Inch by inch, road by road, I'm going to make my garden grow. ...

I'm grateful I've got intelligence, endurance, resourcefulness and courage.

I'm going to need them!