Discover Mare Martell : Latest Work and Ponderings

Discover Mare Martell : Latest Work and Ponderings / The musings and amusings of Mare Martell are cunning, polite, sweet, and vicious. Rarely shying away from things no matter how painful, this site is a tribute to her humanity. en-gb If you don't want to know what I'm thinking, leave now and forever hold your peace. maremartell@nospam.com (Mare Martell) maremartell@nospam.com (Mare Martell) Sun, 20 May 2012 02:53:00 -0400 Sun, 20 May 2012 02:53:00 -0400 http://backend.userland.com/rss e107 (http://e107.org) 60 Discover Mare Martell : Latest Work and Ponderings http://www.maremartell.com/e107_images/Sunsetmoon.jpg / 88 31 The musings and amusings of Mare Martell are cunning, polite, sweet, and vicious. Rarely shying away from things no matter how painful, this site is a tribute to her humanity. Invictus by William Ernest Henley http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.489.2 Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.]]> Wed, 06 Jul 2011 18:10:02 -0400 http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.489.2 15 Things I wish to accomplish this year. http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.488.1
Last year I wanted to finish the book I have outlined and hanging on my wall. I have not. I wanted to lose weight for my health, I have but not nearly enough. I have thought for a long time that there must be something that I'm doing wrong. I've already explored the fact that not only do I feel a fear of failure, but I also feel a fear of success. For some reason, my brain believes that I'm happiest at being mediocre. I am not.

Here is a list of 15 things I wish to work on this year. I will be checking them off as I've accomplished them or if I feel satisfied with the outcome.

I want to lose a minimum of 50 lbs by my birthday next year.
I WILL get my book started more than an outline.
I need to believe that I am worthy of success.
Failure means that I've just found a way not to do it, I must remember to try again.
Love is all you need, so I am going to keep on loving my people to the best of my ability.
I will be kinder to people that are close to me.
My goal is to run a 5K. Yes, I typed that correctly. I will do it before my next birthday.
I will find and hold employment.
I will fix my scooter so I have transportation. (I may need help with this one.)
I do not have to pretend that I like people that I don't like.
I will make my marriage a priority.
My kids are my second priority.
I must not forget to take care of myself.
I will offer forgiveness to those who ask for it.
I will ask forgiveness to those I have wronged.

]]> Thu, 23 Jun 2011 15:00:33 -0400 http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.488.1 My Drug http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.487.2 my heroin
injected into my veins
pulsing through my body
singing, electrifying my brain
throbbing in my pulse
breathe in
breathe out
it's always your everything
that pushes my addiction
the sweet bite of kisses
covering my lips and neck
the grinding need
that explodes without reason
when my name escapes
from between your lips
in a whispering pinch
I take you into my body
because I can't deny you.
You are a drug to me
my heroin, my end.]]> Mon, 06 Jun 2011 19:08:34 -0400 http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.487.2 I tried to tell you I'm unique! http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.486.3 Sun, 29 May 2011 22:11:15 -0400 http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.486.3 History Repeats Itself http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.485.1
Matt asked me back in November if Carly could come live with us. I refused saying I just don't want another child right now. With all the stuff he was dealing with and things that were coming to light, I just didn't feel comfortable. He repeated his request at the beginning of January. I again refused because I just didn't think it was a good idea since she has a strong affinity for "the herb" as well as a bunch of other issues. By February, I'd met and talked with Carly a few times. She just seemed so lost and uncertain. I told her my house was safe for her.

Come mid-February and I get a call from the 15 year old girl's 20 year old caretaker. The caretaker explained that she just couldn't handle Carly any more. She said that the issues that she had weren't allowing her to take as good of care of the younger girl as was needed. I remember looking up at my ceiling and asking, "Really? Okay." I agreed to meet with Carly's mom.

After a lot of this and that, Carly arrived at my house on February 17th. The rules at my house are pretty easy.

Keep your room clean
Keep your laundry done
Complete the chore of your choice. (She chose dishes, Matt does garbage and recycling)
I will not tolerate the use of illicit drugs by children, so it's zero tolerance.
Go to school each day and attempt to keep good grades, or at least passing.
Be respectful to others.
Don't forget to express your views. If you feel I'm out of line, calmly explain your reasons.

That's pretty much it. I don't even care if they curse as long as it isn't at inappropriate times. I figure that some of the things they came to me with are not important enough to fight about, plus, I cuss like a sailor most of the time anyway. I do teach where NOT to cuss.

As we've settled into family life here, it's been very challenging. I've called my Mama more than once and apologized profusely for what I put her through. Carly is so much like me at that age, it's eerie. Since I was text-book PTSD, that should give you a clue to her behaviors. Holy crap!

She goes from being so angry she looks like her head will explode to being so small and in need of a hug. She also makes a strong effort to make sure that I'm accessible at all times. Matt did the same thing when he first arrived. I couldn't go to the bathroom without him standing outside the door to talk to me. Carly's isn't AS bad, but it seems she just needs to know that I'm available. I've found that as much as I love her, sometimes she challenges that heavily. I'M SORRY MAMA! I can't stop loving her, so I'll just be patient and deal with the hurricanes as they arise.

She's whip smart, funny, beautiful, impatient, strong, and pretty much unemotional except for sadness and anger. My goal originally was reunification with her mother, but as time goes by, I suspect that the roots of anger are far deeper than I thought. Plan B is to get her through her teen years in one piece with a decent GPA so she can go to the college of her choice. I'd like for her to be able to commit the marriage between emotions and what has happened to her. That was the starting point for my healing. I hope it is for hers.

Carly, if you read this far, let me take this time to say:
I love you more than a rainbow or the home we share.
You are so wonderful that you've been a challenging blessing to my home.
The loss of you in any form would be devastating to me.
I may not have given birth to you, but you're my daughter in my heart.
Keep the faith my beautiful girl, we will make it through this together.
I will not surrender. I will not back down. You're worth way more than that.
I love you, dear one.
Mama Mare]]> Sun, 29 May 2011 10:50:56 -0400 http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.485.1 Addition isn't as easy as it looks. http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.484.11
Here are the ones I know of or have seen. Only two are ones that I haven't witnessed first hand. If they don't have a name, they haven't introduced themselves or had one of the others introduce them.

Marcus: He's really smooth, black, and really chill. He talks in a deep voice that sounds almost like Barry White. He's the one that talks to me and tells me not to worry, he's got my back. I hear and see him when drugs are the topic.
Johnny: He's about six years old and petrified of everything. He rocks back and forth a lot as well as covering his mouth and washing his hands. His voice is small and tiny like you'd expect from a small child. This one comes out when the fear is too strong.
Scott: He's the most violent of them all. He could set fire to the house and not give a shit. He has no conscience. He is constantly angry, rarely pacified. This one has yet to manifest, but he warns that he is arriving long before he shows up. This one usually will arrive when cornered.
Steve, The Know-It-All: This one will answer questions in such a manner that there is not a single emotion displayed. Just the facts, ma'am. This one is male, but he refuses to give his name. He knows what every one is doing. I think this one or Marcus are the two I see the most. This one comes out when things need to be simplified and explained in a no-nonsense style. He is the gatekeeper.
The Woman: She screams at the top of her lungs like she can't hear what you're saying to her. It's usually when the stress level reaches peak. She usually screams questioning words like, "WHAT?! WHO?! WHEN?! WHERE?!" She doesn't know the meaning of the word quiet.
The Catholic: This one prays and asks for absolution while praying for the demons to leave. The hands make the motions of doing the rosary although there hasn't been any exposure to that religion.
The Gay Guy: He is the one that performed acts that are normal for a gay male, but not for a heterosexual male. It would not surprise me if this guy, when integrated, came out of the closet all the way. He showed up in sexual situations with males that abused him. I've not seen him, but I've heard him.
Wayne: He's the shy wallflower that doesn't like people listening to him or looking at him. He warns when the others are coming out to play. He is painfully afraid of people's judgment.
Jake: He's about three years old. He loves to play with hands and explore the world around him. He is very mischievous. He thinks the middle finger is funny. When he hugs, he hugs tightly with arms around the neck. He rubs his nose into my ear and breathes heavily. He claps his hands and nods or taps in response to questions. His speech is without very much form. He walks like a toddler just getting his bearings.
The Old Man: I was introduced to him yesterday. His hands are freezing, his breath comes hard, his hands shake with age. His eyes are distant, wide, and haunted. He bows to his brother's wisdom. His voice is husky and doesn't have much power behind the words. He does not keep congruent thoughts.
The Wise One: He is the older brother of The Old Man. This one is a father figure. He is ancient. He is the one that offers the others advice and guidance, although some of them don't like being bossed around by him. He has lived for so long that he knows all the answers but he rarely talks. I think it was Wayne that told me about him.
The Girl: She is unafraid to walk up to attractive guys and ask them for a hug. She is light and flighty. She doesn't seem to like the idea that she's with so many guys. She wants to wear makeup, put on dresses, have her nails done. She is more confident than some of the others, but she still only appears briefly.
Matt 2: This boy is very similar to the one most commonly out, but this one doesn't get embarrassed. He acknowledges that I'm talking to him, but is more sassy and back talks. He is the one that gets angry if he's caught "out".
The Angry One: This one does nothing but yell out obscenities at things or myself. Although this one clearly can't stand me, neither can this one be without me. If I need to leave the room, it is nearly unforgivable. Defiant, aggressive, possessive, and easily agitated, this alter hasn't given a name.

]]> Tue, 15 Feb 2011 18:21:01 -0500 http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.484.11 Angry Bursts of Rage http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.483.11
The issue I have right now has been going on for years and years. I think it started the day I was born. Anyone who has lost a family member, particularly a parent, can understand the longing for them. I think anyone can understand that no matter how bad or cruel that person could be, inside, they just had to be a good person, right? I believed that my love could change things. I believed that if I loved and wished enough, I would win his heart. What a naive child I was.

For years I'd try desperately to convince myself and him that I was worthy of being loved. I sure as hell didn't realize that I was fighting a losing battle. I didn't understand that I was trying to win a non-existent love. I could have saved myself a lot of pain, heartache, anger, and hurt if I had paid attention. But as a child, it is not easy to read adults. Permissiveness means that they love you enough to let you do what you want to do. Money means that they send their love with each penny. Sneaking secret visits with special secrets you can't tell anyone means that they love you the most. Right?

I grew up with only limited contact with my father. He'd sweep into my life, shower me with trips, gifts, and promises. I'd believe them every time. I wanted to believe that he wanted to be my father, my daddy, my mentor, my guide. I needed to believe that. I craved the attention of my father like a drug. Inside I knew it was bad for me, but I couldn't walk away from him just as an addict couldn't give up heroin. It seemed impossible.

I ran to him when I was a teen. I begged to be a part of his life, but his indifference didn't seem to fit what I'd hoped would happen. I hoped that open arms with tears and hugs would be my greeting. Instead I got asked if I wanted to get high. When I said I didn't do that, I was asked if I wanted a beer. I was just shy of 18 at the time. Then he drove me to his friend's house. I couldn't even live with him and his family. I was sequestered away like a dirty secret. After a month, I was over that. I couldn't be alone. The guy that I lived with was one of the sweetest, kindest men. He never acted inappropriately to me. He was compassionate and sweet. He was what I'd hoped to get from my own flesh, but no. A stranger loved me more.

Years later I again attempted contact. We talked for hours on the phone. It was weird hearing some of the things that I used for self destructive purposes come out of his mouth. To me it sounded like a connection. It sounded like he understood where I was coming from, my standpoint. That little girl inside of me was so sure that this was it. She wanted his love and approval more than anything. I did too, I suppose. I wanted him to be real.

About 16 years ago or so, I felt secure in the knowledge that my mother and my father loved me. I was sure of it. My world flipped upside down when everything I thought I had was gone. I struggled to hang onto my illusion, but reality was far too harsh. I felt abandoned and deserted. Honestly, I think I did that part of it. I isolated myself in the pain like a freezing blanket. I wanted to experience it fully. Oh boy, did I.

Four years later, I again tried to reconnect. This time I was allowed to stay in his family home, but not for long. His, now dead, wife dumped me on the side of the road in Nashville. She then went back and told him I never wanted to see him again. That was not true or accurate at all. My anger was towards her, not him. When he found out that I was telling the truth, his anger was towards her too. We fought to stay connected. I felt like an odd version of Romeo and Juliet. Pulled apart by the tides of jealousy or some shit like that.

When he asked me to move closer to him five years ago because of his health, I didn't think too much about it. I agreed. Totally, I lived with him for about two years. During that two years I witnessed more of him than I'd ever thought possible. I became wary of his intentions when I saw how Matthew was treated by him. I was laughed at when I asked if he'd ever molested me then it was confirmed. I was baffled and put up a wall to protect myself from him. Then his new girlfriend started pushing her nonsense towards me and I couldn't bear it any longer. My husband and I moved out.

Now, as I sit here seething with barely restrained anger towards him, I realize just how similar Matthew and I are. We both want to believe that somewhere under that pirate without a ship is the father we dream of him being. We both wish that he'd wrap us into a hug that was filled with teary eyed emotion. We both long for his approval and understanding. We both wish for him to accept us as we are. We are fools in this way.

I believe I am beyond that naivety now. After learning that my father was willing to break a court order to take Matthew away from me under the guise of birthday, I no longer feel empathy for him. I know that if he ever did it, I'd press kidnapping charges against him and not relent. He needs to understand that the rules and the laws apply to him. He doesn't believe that, but they do. I don't WANT to press charges, but I will.

I need to keep Matthew the priority. I need to protect him even if he doesn't realize my reasons right now. Years from now, I hope, he will. He has been neglected and abused for far too long by my father and his crazy ass girlfriend. I will not allow him to go along without any consequences. I know he's all bark and no bite. I've stood up to him before about issues that shouldn't have even needed to be addressed. I've called him on the carpet for doing stupid ass shit like giving Matt alcohol at night to put him to sleep. His behavior is inexcusable. There needs to be retribution for Matthew.

The Universe will take care of that part. I just have to wait and defend when necessary. Unfortunately, it's against the man that for nearly all of my life I'd hoped to win the affections and admiration of his heart. I realize now that it was a fool's errand. I was sent on a wild goose chase. I freely ignored people who loved me in favor of my drug of choice, my father. The ultimate love of a man who will never choose to know me, cherish me, or love me will not be accessible, ever. I know that now. I'm okay with that. In my quest for salvation from my false idol, I hurt and repelled a man who did everything a father should do. I rejected his love in hopes of a promise that would never come true. Shame on me for not seeing this when I was younger.]]> Tue, 01 Feb 2011 15:55:57 -0500 http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.483.11 What would you do? http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.482.11
Not long after that, the Uncle goes on vacation with family members and doesn't return. The boy is now left alone in the chaos with no tools to deal with any of it. Flash a couple of years into the future and his Grand/mother becomes sick with Cancer and dies in the middle of the night. At that point, the boy splits. Not even a month after his Grand/mother dies, his father figure moves a woman in to "take care of things." She drinks so much alcohol and does so many drugs that she commonly blacks out. During several of her blackouts, she sexually abuses the boy. She doesn't remember it. All the boy remembers is waking up to his pants being removed by her, screaming for help that didn't come, then comes another split.

In order to deal with the pain in this sensitive boy's soul, he continues to split. Because of the violence he witnesses with the drug dealers he ran with, he continues to split even more. By the time he reaches his Aunt's house, there are around twenty or so people trying to drive his bus (brain).

This may seem like fiction or something contrived, but sadly, it is not. The first time I realized I wasn't talking to the boy, it was surprising, but I thought he was just in an odd mood. It didn't occur to me that the voices he'd been hearing since he was about six were still manifesting. I didn't recognize the different people until the boy had a major meltdown. So far, I've counted about six or seven that talk differently, sit differently, hold their expressions differently.

If you have ever heard a black man's deep voice coming out of a white teen, then you've experienced what I've seen. The ones I have identified because they tell me their names are:

Marcus: He's really smooth, black, and really chill. He talks in a deep voice that sounds almost like Barry White. He's the one that talks to me and tells me not to worry, he's got my back. I hear and see him when drugs are the topic.
Johnny/Jake: He's about six years old and petrified of everything. He rocks back and forth a lot as well as covering his mouth and washing his hands. His voice is small and tiny like you'd expect from a small child. This one comes out when the fear is too strong.
Scott: He's the most violent of them all. He could set fire to the house and not give a shit. He has no conscience. He is constantly angry, rarely pacified. This one has yet to manifest, but he warns that he is arriving long before he shows up. This one usually will arrive when cornered.
Steve, The Know-It-All: This one will answer questions in such a manner that there is not a single emotion displayed. Just the facts, ma'am. This one is male, but he refuses to give his name. He knows what every one is doing. I think this one or Marcus are the two I see the most. This one comes out when things need to be simplified and explained in a no-nonsense style. He is the gatekeeper.
The Woman: She screams at the top of her lungs like she can't hear what you're saying to her. It's usually when the stress level reaches peak. She usually screams questioning words like, "WHAT?! WHO?! WHEN?! WHERE?!" She doesn't know the meaning of the word quiet.
The Catholic: This one prays and asks for absolution while praying for the demons to leave. The hands make the motions of doing the rosary although there hasn't been any exposure to that religion.
The Gay Guy: He is the one that performed acts that are normal for a gay male, but not for a heterosexual male. It would not surprise me if this guy, when integrated, came out of the closet all the way. He showed up in sexual situations with males that abused him. I've not seen him, but I've heard him.
Wayne: He's the shy wallflower that doesn't like people listening to him or looking at him. He warns when the others are coming out to play. He is painfully afraid of people's judgment.

I'm trying desperately to get people to understand what is happening. When I call the crisis team because of another meltdown, they take their sweet time getting here. By the time they arrive, the boy is already calmed down by me. It pisses me off to no end to see what needs to be done, but not being able to achieve that because of red-tape. Again I state, I am Durga. I will conquer the demons that plague him. I will prosecute if he is taken against court order. I will win. The boy deserves a happy ending.]]> Mon, 31 Jan 2011 17:40:52 -0500 http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.482.11 The Lady Neighbor http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.481.2 on a faded floral armchair.
It covered in plastic,
wrinkling when she leaned
forward to encompass her cup
lovingly filled with tea.
Sipping silently the sugary mix
she turned her waxy face
towards the picture window
as if she could pull back
the curtains of time.
She smiled yellow at me
when she brought forth
her past in faded words
like old photographs
taken from the box hidden
under the stares of cobwebs.
Sometimes she'd tell me
stories of her youth and
her determination to teach
physical education which
mocked and giggled at her
now frail body wrinkling
in the faded floral armchair
covered in plastic
sitting across the room from me.]]> Sun, 30 Jan 2011 17:52:55 -0500 http://www.maremartell.com/news.php?item.481.2