Flip the Script, My Halloween Revelation
So its just hours before the Haunted Halloween Howling, and I am just about done with the hullaballoo of the costume hunt. My children were like savages searching the party papers for costumes that peeked their interest. For about a week now, my daughter has been asking me what it was I was going to be for this bewitched night of treats and trickery. I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t planning on dressing up that is. I love to make cute and spooky treats for the kids, but I don’t dress for the occasion.
Well after much pondering on the matter, since my daughter refused to let the subject go, I began to list a few of my alter ego fantasy’s just to see what I could come up with. It wasn’t hard to list but, after reviewing its contents I found that none of the costumes were fitting. I thought that maybe, just maybe it was time for me to be just plain ole me, no sugar added.
I decided that perhaps I would ditch the old lace front and glossing lip gloss in exchange for my natural curls and CarMax. Yes the true me, hidden under the new age Hair Does as opposed to the Hair Don’t. Truthfully, I could have ditched the old additions a while ago, but the idea of hairloss due to kemo therapy plagued my mind. It does so every time I attempt to wear my natural hair. Just a psychological issue, weird maybe, seriously yes.
Well in these last hours of the night before the ghosts and goblins come out, I will flip the script. Instead of running out to get a costume for the party I will merely take the one I am wearing off. It’s high time I embrace the scars of my survival and learn to accept me. After all, I can’t expect anyone else to do so, if I can’t accept the many pieces of me, now can I?
all rights reserved
copyright by Aija M. Butler
a Journals Diary
@uthor@
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Book Chapter Preview
My Nemesis, The Birth Of Leliel Andras
CHAP. 6 SNIPET: Into The Light
AUTHOR: Aija M. Butler
Joy stepped into her bathroom and starred into the dark. Her first thought was to call on God. She wanted him to show himself and explain his actions. She couldn't she how they were justified. She walked slowly to the tubs edge and looked into the deep oval ceramic surface and sat on its edge.
The room seemed to expand as if the walls were no longer there. All she could see was a bright light, that appeared from just beyond the tub. A calming glow that moved her to sway softly, as the luminosity calmed her soul. Tuning into her consciousness she turned on the water to the tub. The golden handles with pearl tips seemed to reflect small sparkles of gold onto the water, as it filled the bathtub. The room was well lit by the golden highlights. Joy watched the waters flow as if hypnotized by the clear crystals falling from its spout.
As the water surfaced towards the tubs edge, she could visibly see the steam hovering over its top. She could feel the soft warmth of the clouded steam, and in it she calmed her weeping heart. She felt a great sense of peace.
Though the chill of the bathroom flowed from her feet against the tile floor, she was warmed by the presence of something or someone. Curious with the urge to feel the closeness of her husbands spirit, she called out to him. Joy prayed that her lack paranormal belief would not hinder her possibility of experience. She quieted her self and looked into the empty space filled with light and steam from her hot bath. In it he stood quietly. She was fearful at first, at this presumed presence of someone that had passed on. She nearly fell from the tub. She would have easily hit her head and knocked unconscious.
Joy held on to her chest frightfully aware of her close walk with death and inhaled slowly. Grabbing on the flesh of her chest she grabbed both the garment of her oversized shirt, and the thin tissue between her breast purposely to test her conscious awareness. Pain was definite and her eyes were focused even in the dark of the night. Slowly releasing her shirt, she placed her hands toward the illuminating light in an attempt to touch just the hem of his garment. Unable to feel the cloth she retreated and shook her head solemnly, then violently, as she realized her disbelief caused her to loose touch.
Just in that moment the peace that had culminated her mind, body, and spirit dissipated. She was tired and worn. Her back slumped over and depression quickly settled. Moving from the tubs edge she turned her back towards the door and the light was gone. She slowly crumbled to the floor and fell into a tantrum of unexplained volatile convulsions, as she cried for mercy and understanding.
“Dear God, Why has Thou Forsaken me. Why must I stay to die alone in the hellish ways of this world.? What am I do to do with this life, now that all that I have loved and cherished has perished?”
“You live..”
Joy peered from between the small cracks in her hands. Slowly she uncovered her face. She could have sworn to have heard Jakes voice, but nothing was there.
“Hello!” she called out. Making sure that her mind was in fact playing tricks on her. She was even fearful that the voice would again answer her. She too thought that she may be loosing her sanity. Things that were happening were not of this world. She couldn't explain her thoughts or actions. Her mind raced and the outbreaks of sudden amnesia puzzled not only her, but her family.
“I'm here,” the voice interrupted.
Joys this time she was afraid to speak aloud. “What do you want?” she asked as if she wanted to know the answer.
“I want you to live,” was his only response.
Joys eyes widened with surprise but the voices request only seemed to add fuel to the fire burning within Joys chest. She was angry. She wanted an explanation.
“What for?” she screamed.
“What for…?” Again she called at the empty space just beyond her tub and demand an answer. “How dare you leave?” she yelled begging for his return.
Still, the water drifted amongst the soft winds, that crept in from the bathroom window. Soft drips of water hit the pool before her, but nothing more. Not even a whisper of apology and farewell came from the golden light, that had lit her bathroom just moments before.
Joys mind seemed to burst her brain was scrambled. She had bits and pieces of reality playing in her mind. She wasn't delusional as she was before. She was psychotic. She screamed at the top of her lungs beckoning Leleil to show her face.
She tore down the towel rack and slammed her fists on the sink, and jolted open the medicine cabinet in search for relief. When she couldn't find the pills she stopped suddenly as if her breakdown were calming and just starred down into the drain of the sink, The small metal circle lit up brightly and reflected a small razor that had fallen from the shelf of the medicine cabinet. In that moment Joy felt relief. She felt as her answer had arrived. That if only she could die, she could live passing on the horrors of this life to be resurrected anew. Born into a new place and time a chance to start over.
CHAP. 6 SNIPET: Into The Light
AUTHOR: Aija M. Butler
Joy stepped into her bathroom and starred into the dark. Her first thought was to call on God. She wanted him to show himself and explain his actions. She couldn't she how they were justified. She walked slowly to the tubs edge and looked into the deep oval ceramic surface and sat on its edge.
The room seemed to expand as if the walls were no longer there. All she could see was a bright light, that appeared from just beyond the tub. A calming glow that moved her to sway softly, as the luminosity calmed her soul. Tuning into her consciousness she turned on the water to the tub. The golden handles with pearl tips seemed to reflect small sparkles of gold onto the water, as it filled the bathtub. The room was well lit by the golden highlights. Joy watched the waters flow as if hypnotized by the clear crystals falling from its spout.
As the water surfaced towards the tubs edge, she could visibly see the steam hovering over its top. She could feel the soft warmth of the clouded steam, and in it she calmed her weeping heart. She felt a great sense of peace.
Though the chill of the bathroom flowed from her feet against the tile floor, she was warmed by the presence of something or someone. Curious with the urge to feel the closeness of her husbands spirit, she called out to him. Joy prayed that her lack paranormal belief would not hinder her possibility of experience. She quieted her self and looked into the empty space filled with light and steam from her hot bath. In it he stood quietly. She was fearful at first, at this presumed presence of someone that had passed on. She nearly fell from the tub. She would have easily hit her head and knocked unconscious.
Joy held on to her chest frightfully aware of her close walk with death and inhaled slowly. Grabbing on the flesh of her chest she grabbed both the garment of her oversized shirt, and the thin tissue between her breast purposely to test her conscious awareness. Pain was definite and her eyes were focused even in the dark of the night. Slowly releasing her shirt, she placed her hands toward the illuminating light in an attempt to touch just the hem of his garment. Unable to feel the cloth she retreated and shook her head solemnly, then violently, as she realized her disbelief caused her to loose touch.
Just in that moment the peace that had culminated her mind, body, and spirit dissipated. She was tired and worn. Her back slumped over and depression quickly settled. Moving from the tubs edge she turned her back towards the door and the light was gone. She slowly crumbled to the floor and fell into a tantrum of unexplained volatile convulsions, as she cried for mercy and understanding.
“Dear God, Why has Thou Forsaken me. Why must I stay to die alone in the hellish ways of this world.? What am I do to do with this life, now that all that I have loved and cherished has perished?”
“You live..”
Joy peered from between the small cracks in her hands. Slowly she uncovered her face. She could have sworn to have heard Jakes voice, but nothing was there.
“Hello!” she called out. Making sure that her mind was in fact playing tricks on her. She was even fearful that the voice would again answer her. She too thought that she may be loosing her sanity. Things that were happening were not of this world. She couldn't explain her thoughts or actions. Her mind raced and the outbreaks of sudden amnesia puzzled not only her, but her family.
“I'm here,” the voice interrupted.
Joys this time she was afraid to speak aloud. “What do you want?” she asked as if she wanted to know the answer.
“I want you to live,” was his only response.
Joys eyes widened with surprise but the voices request only seemed to add fuel to the fire burning within Joys chest. She was angry. She wanted an explanation.
“What for?” she screamed.
“What for…?” Again she called at the empty space just beyond her tub and demand an answer. “How dare you leave?” she yelled begging for his return.
Still, the water drifted amongst the soft winds, that crept in from the bathroom window. Soft drips of water hit the pool before her, but nothing more. Not even a whisper of apology and farewell came from the golden light, that had lit her bathroom just moments before.
Joys mind seemed to burst her brain was scrambled. She had bits and pieces of reality playing in her mind. She wasn't delusional as she was before. She was psychotic. She screamed at the top of her lungs beckoning Leleil to show her face.
She tore down the towel rack and slammed her fists on the sink, and jolted open the medicine cabinet in search for relief. When she couldn't find the pills she stopped suddenly as if her breakdown were calming and just starred down into the drain of the sink, The small metal circle lit up brightly and reflected a small razor that had fallen from the shelf of the medicine cabinet. In that moment Joy felt relief. She felt as her answer had arrived. That if only she could die, she could live passing on the horrors of this life to be resurrected anew. Born into a new place and time a chance to start over.
The Twitter Experiment, "The Truth and Nothing But..."
So I wanted to find out what the big deal was with this Twitter business. I set up an account months ago but I had yet to test out its true function. With all the opposing social networking sites I got confused to tell you the truth. I am a working mother, with whom just started a new career. I am in school, and dealing with terminal disease. My mind is on its way out the door. So you can imagine my thoughts on all these sites for dating and networking your business as they say.
“Google me…” I think that is such a cute line. Be careful you may want to type in your name and check that out. You never know what your nemesis will exploit. So any who. I decided to conduct a small experiment with Twitter. Face book was no good. All my friends were persons I actually knew, and I wasn’t that bold yet. I wanted to vent yes. I wanted to talk trash, yes. But I wanted to do it where the opinions were non-biased.
Venting to strangers is always a breath of fresh air, for all party’s considered. The person venting doesn’t expect much just for a good listener, or shoulder to cry on. Perhaps a oh or wow, here and there; but never a solution. The listener, has no real pressure. All he or she is there for is an ear, and adlib, when necessary. Comments are welcome, as well. Its not like you know the people right?
Would you believe my publisher approved such garbage? Such a gamble on the exploitation of someone’s life. I can. Who doesn’t love a good scandal.? As long as their dirt isn’t dished. Many will sit back and say that I have completely lost my mind. Perhaps, this is an attempt at social suicide. A cry for help. Maybe you’re right. I’d just ask that you have mercy on me since I’m technically a sickly woman and reduce your urge to throw rocks to perhaps the use of cherry tomatoes or rice. I thought that was funny.
So it began. My quest for release. A chance to take up some group counseling to render the pain of depression and uncertainty. I felt as if my head was about to explode. I made an appointment to see my mental health doctor. Just my luck, it was canceled the day before the appointment was set. That’s the county for you.
So there I was with an old pill bottle that had 2 refills left on them. I didn’t feel much like being sedated. I was too blah. What ever happens, happens sort of attitude. I felt like I had been a victim of a bad batch of botox. Not pretty at all people. I couldn’t smile, laugh, or show emotions of anger and sadness.
A resolution was in order. I thought why not tweet my issues. Everyone does. They tell either what’s on their minds, or dinner menu, who looks best or worst on the red carpet, and bad mouthed whom ever they so wished. It wasn’t a fashion show or popularity contest. Everyone was invited to tell what they were up to. So I decided to take 7 days of my life and do just that.
Tweet! Tweet for 7 days 100 tweets a day, exploiting my thoughts and happenings of my day. Whether embarrassing or contrary to popular opinion, I would tweet the truth and nothing but.
During which time I would journal my thoughts, see if writing out my issues help to rectify some of them. By my venting to the public about my problematic mental instability, I could get to the bottom of what was really bothering me. I could be going through the emotions of accepting my illness. I fight daily with this notion. For If I surrender and accept my fate. I admit to defeat. I’d rather live in denial. I am worried about my children, their well-being. What happens after I’m gone. My husband is saddened. He lives in fear. He never sleeps. I am a burden to him, if only he would admit to this he could leave and heal before he grows to hate me.
The twitter experiment was my only out. I am the cure to this disease. Writing my thoughts must be my voice of reason. I make this plan to use twitter as members of my group therapy session, my peers. Once strangers and mere cyber associates will become my friends. The friends I will now entrust with my deepest and darkest secrets. To be judged or not to be judged. I plunge forward. Mentally unstable, battered and bruised by disease. Haunted by the dreams of loosing my career, life and husband. I am loosing my mind, but not without a fight.
My true nemesis is me. So long I have fought with my fear of success, by stifling my own abilities. Today I know that it is truly my fear of failure that inhibits my growth. My heart beats fast when I am under stress, My blood pressure rises when I come too close success. The eyes bring forth fear, the eyes that may rest upon me, as I am responsible. You see how disoriented I am? How disheveled my thoughts and mind state? My children may kill me before this disease does.
My stress may be do the same. At home I am in constant battle with my conscience. I speak to God often. The thoughts that I ponder tend to focus on my future, and how my life may be ending soon. It is this fear that causes me to false start. I rush my goals, and get flustered when they fail at first try. Frustration is nurtured when I express my doubt to friends and family. They tend to stir the pot, and bring my fears to a boil. Thus I sit and lie to myself about how I truly feel. I say that I am ok. That I could care less about the put downs others spew. When words of comfort and guidance, is needed there is nothing. Nothing but the quiet winds against my back. As if left out in the dead of winter, freezing in the cold of night.
Day one begins soon. The Twitter Experiment, The Truth and nothing but….
“Google me…” I think that is such a cute line. Be careful you may want to type in your name and check that out. You never know what your nemesis will exploit. So any who. I decided to conduct a small experiment with Twitter. Face book was no good. All my friends were persons I actually knew, and I wasn’t that bold yet. I wanted to vent yes. I wanted to talk trash, yes. But I wanted to do it where the opinions were non-biased.
Venting to strangers is always a breath of fresh air, for all party’s considered. The person venting doesn’t expect much just for a good listener, or shoulder to cry on. Perhaps a oh or wow, here and there; but never a solution. The listener, has no real pressure. All he or she is there for is an ear, and adlib, when necessary. Comments are welcome, as well. Its not like you know the people right?
Would you believe my publisher approved such garbage? Such a gamble on the exploitation of someone’s life. I can. Who doesn’t love a good scandal.? As long as their dirt isn’t dished. Many will sit back and say that I have completely lost my mind. Perhaps, this is an attempt at social suicide. A cry for help. Maybe you’re right. I’d just ask that you have mercy on me since I’m technically a sickly woman and reduce your urge to throw rocks to perhaps the use of cherry tomatoes or rice. I thought that was funny.
So it began. My quest for release. A chance to take up some group counseling to render the pain of depression and uncertainty. I felt as if my head was about to explode. I made an appointment to see my mental health doctor. Just my luck, it was canceled the day before the appointment was set. That’s the county for you.
So there I was with an old pill bottle that had 2 refills left on them. I didn’t feel much like being sedated. I was too blah. What ever happens, happens sort of attitude. I felt like I had been a victim of a bad batch of botox. Not pretty at all people. I couldn’t smile, laugh, or show emotions of anger and sadness.
A resolution was in order. I thought why not tweet my issues. Everyone does. They tell either what’s on their minds, or dinner menu, who looks best or worst on the red carpet, and bad mouthed whom ever they so wished. It wasn’t a fashion show or popularity contest. Everyone was invited to tell what they were up to. So I decided to take 7 days of my life and do just that.
Tweet! Tweet for 7 days 100 tweets a day, exploiting my thoughts and happenings of my day. Whether embarrassing or contrary to popular opinion, I would tweet the truth and nothing but.
During which time I would journal my thoughts, see if writing out my issues help to rectify some of them. By my venting to the public about my problematic mental instability, I could get to the bottom of what was really bothering me. I could be going through the emotions of accepting my illness. I fight daily with this notion. For If I surrender and accept my fate. I admit to defeat. I’d rather live in denial. I am worried about my children, their well-being. What happens after I’m gone. My husband is saddened. He lives in fear. He never sleeps. I am a burden to him, if only he would admit to this he could leave and heal before he grows to hate me.
The twitter experiment was my only out. I am the cure to this disease. Writing my thoughts must be my voice of reason. I make this plan to use twitter as members of my group therapy session, my peers. Once strangers and mere cyber associates will become my friends. The friends I will now entrust with my deepest and darkest secrets. To be judged or not to be judged. I plunge forward. Mentally unstable, battered and bruised by disease. Haunted by the dreams of loosing my career, life and husband. I am loosing my mind, but not without a fight.
My true nemesis is me. So long I have fought with my fear of success, by stifling my own abilities. Today I know that it is truly my fear of failure that inhibits my growth. My heart beats fast when I am under stress, My blood pressure rises when I come too close success. The eyes bring forth fear, the eyes that may rest upon me, as I am responsible. You see how disoriented I am? How disheveled my thoughts and mind state? My children may kill me before this disease does.
My stress may be do the same. At home I am in constant battle with my conscience. I speak to God often. The thoughts that I ponder tend to focus on my future, and how my life may be ending soon. It is this fear that causes me to false start. I rush my goals, and get flustered when they fail at first try. Frustration is nurtured when I express my doubt to friends and family. They tend to stir the pot, and bring my fears to a boil. Thus I sit and lie to myself about how I truly feel. I say that I am ok. That I could care less about the put downs others spew. When words of comfort and guidance, is needed there is nothing. Nothing but the quiet winds against my back. As if left out in the dead of winter, freezing in the cold of night.
Day one begins soon. The Twitter Experiment, The Truth and nothing but….
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Excerpt from The Essays of a Ticking Time Bomb
INVASION OF THE MIND
He came into my room abruptly, grabbed my paper and pen, and looked at me questionably.
"How dare you barge into my private quarters, invading my thoughts!” I gazed from the empty space whence my items of solitude were stolen, and looked into the face of my attacker delirious with rage and invincible spirit.
"I will take these," he said simply turning on his heels to depart as if he had won.
"Cocky! Aren't we,” I replied clenching my teeth.
"Get some sleep," He whispered over his
shoulder disregarding my warning of explosion.
Angrily, then without warning I leaped onto his back, scratching the meat from his bone. Exposing his rotting flesh for the world of spectators to view. He would serve as my example.
“Bear the scars, Let Freedom Ring,” I scream, kneading the craters in his face smooth. Biting and tearing the skin from his bone, “You will not survive! You best leave me alone.”
Defensively, he flung me from my clawing and slung me onto the bed. I would stand and face my attacker. I threw my legs and arms into a windmill of terror beating
him about the head and shoulders. I hit him hard in the face, yelling obscenities and foul slurs.
"You have raped me for the last time. you can't keep me from my most precious love. The words on these pages may creep during the night; and murder you while you sleep. I'm not afraid of you. I have overcome the troubles of my heart. You may not be so lucky.
I command my words to slay you where you stand. No more will you deface me. Spew my hidden thoughts to the public, and force me to counsel. I will prey on your soul with my voodoo pen, writing your sins on your face for the world to see."
You are just as I, human with odd feelings. Some of which I may regret, but shall not repress. Your are the one in which should seek the comfy whites of a cell and a cot for living a lie. You live in the dark, hosting many closets as I don't waste time with frivolous things."
“Speaking the thoughts of my mind may not always be appropriate, but my pen and pad will tell it all. TICKING NOW..., You have opened the doors to my wrath, slithering invading the pages of my diary, stealing my secrets."
I lowered my eyes and pointed at him with conviction and authority, "I say to you once and only once. This I say. I will spare you, and forget this moment of ignorance you so displayed; but never again will you be allowed to leave these enclosed walls without the damnation of your soul, becoming a vivid reality.
The Bomb in my hands is ticking. Look down onto my hands. You may find that I have past it onto you, and it has crept into your bed. You will cease to exist.
My rights are constantly challenged in the world by conformity and the society’s norm.
I have peace here, within the pages of my diary. I allow my anger to release its wrath, my self counsel.
Passing these thoughts of anger, disappointment, and hurt, onto the pages of this book, I bring closure to these ill feelings and become strong. Acknowledging the truth and setting a path anew.”
Short Story, The Electric Lemonade
I had this wonderful blue drink on one of my excursions with my sister in law Jahmonica, and Aunt Staci. I fell in love with the baby blue icy cold lemon refreshment. It was so good It was hard to believe that it was an alcoholic beverage.
I”d guzzled 3 of the tall blue gypsies before I realized I was drunk.
Any way after drinking these blue devils I was so intoxicated that I barely knew where I was located. I had, had entirely too much to drink. Those tasty monsters were a hit. I’d be sure to slap an advisory label on those suckers the next time I was invited to an outing with the ladies.
The Electric Lemonade, altered my thinking. I was out of touch with reality.
Be advised. The Olive Garden as a similar drink that I found to be equivalent to my tasty blue dream. It was yellow. A beautiful canary yellow as bright as the sun, with crushed lemon candy around the tall brim of the glass. Oh boy! I could see the danger signs, as the waitress brought the enticing beverages to the table. “Tuscan Lemonade,” I believe they were called. I have my mother n law to blame for this one. I whipped out my pen and pad and quickly added the new drink to my list.
I believe these mystic drinks are much like men. They come in all these cute different shapes, sizes, and colors. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Hypnotizing the most sane individuals. We have to be careful of these different types of tall winery delicates.
Too much of what we think is good for us can be extremely harmful and can kill. While just a simple taste can keep us sane in our wild adventures of the horrific trials of this world, (laughing out loud historically). I doubt any of us ladies will follow this rule about our limitations on the men tip. However the taste in men is more so what I am getting at in this passage.
The look, feel, and taste of a person, place, or thing, can be quite deceiving. Set your sites on high quality. I chose a drink that was both tasty, sweet, and tall. At a decent price. Are we following. Handsome, respectable, a relationship built on trust, faith, and longevity. Choose your significant other wisely people. Much like you select your wine or favorite beverage, snack, and or treat.
I”d guzzled 3 of the tall blue gypsies before I realized I was drunk.
Any way after drinking these blue devils I was so intoxicated that I barely knew where I was located. I had, had entirely too much to drink. Those tasty monsters were a hit. I’d be sure to slap an advisory label on those suckers the next time I was invited to an outing with the ladies.
The Electric Lemonade, altered my thinking. I was out of touch with reality.
Be advised. The Olive Garden as a similar drink that I found to be equivalent to my tasty blue dream. It was yellow. A beautiful canary yellow as bright as the sun, with crushed lemon candy around the tall brim of the glass. Oh boy! I could see the danger signs, as the waitress brought the enticing beverages to the table. “Tuscan Lemonade,” I believe they were called. I have my mother n law to blame for this one. I whipped out my pen and pad and quickly added the new drink to my list.
I believe these mystic drinks are much like men. They come in all these cute different shapes, sizes, and colors. Whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Hypnotizing the most sane individuals. We have to be careful of these different types of tall winery delicates.
Too much of what we think is good for us can be extremely harmful and can kill. While just a simple taste can keep us sane in our wild adventures of the horrific trials of this world, (laughing out loud historically). I doubt any of us ladies will follow this rule about our limitations on the men tip. However the taste in men is more so what I am getting at in this passage.
The look, feel, and taste of a person, place, or thing, can be quite deceiving. Set your sites on high quality. I chose a drink that was both tasty, sweet, and tall. At a decent price. Are we following. Handsome, respectable, a relationship built on trust, faith, and longevity. Choose your significant other wisely people. Much like you select your wine or favorite beverage, snack, and or treat.
Short Story, Assume The Position
“How have you been Ms. Butler?”
“Well all things considered. I’d say I am doing ok. I have been testing my sugars regularly. They have regulated a bit. The Metformin leaves me in a pickle. I am often sick, from its side effects. It sure tells u right away when you have eaten something that you shouldn’t have. These days are rough.”
“How is your schooling coming? I see you started the pharmacology program with Boston Reed Medical College.”
“I did. I am having fun. I didn’t know that it would require so much math. Math was not my subject in school at all. However, once I get the hang of the calculations I enjoy the math very much. I cant believe how much I have learned. I must say that the more I learn about pharmaceuticals, the more afraid I am about taking medication. It almost seems as if the medications give more side effects than their therapeutic purpose. I stopped taking the Sertraline. At, first my anxiety seemed to pass once the chest pain came about. However shortly after I began to have hallucinations. I’m sure that couldn’t be a normal side effect. I discontinued its use immediately. I called to inform you of the change. Nonetheless, I never got a hold of the care coordinator.
Overall school is great. Its beneficial, and the time in class helps me to forget for a few moments about my disease. My family is well hubby has plans to open a barber shop, when we get all of our credentialing.”
“Sounds good. So I have news about your test results.”
“Well, What is it?”
“Well the cocci has filtered your lungs, and we have found some cholesterol in your blood. You are anemic and dehydrated I would like to send you to the hospital today. I am going to admit you and treat you with some antibiotics, give you some fluids, and a blood transfusion. You should be good to go after a few days. I will even furnish a doctors note for school.”
“Wow a doctors note.” I laughed out loud ridiculously. Just before the tears began to roll down my cheeks. I was going insane. There was no way I could go to the hospital. My children needed me. I hadn’t been away from them no more than a few hours since I left the hospital with the boys; and Jazz since my first bout with the disease.
“I’m not going!” I said confidently. In my head. I was afraid to utter my defiant proclamation aloud he may have rounded security. The health officials were sure to strap me down, and bus me over. I wont go. Thank God I had opted to go this appointment alone. I was sure to be transported had family been informed.
“I will fax your admission papers. They should be ready within the hour.“
I cursed him with such passion, my forehead creased and my teeth began to grind. I couldn’t believe how nonchalant he was about the occurrences of today’s events. As if I didn’t have other things to attend to. I was floored my chest felt as if someone was sitting on it. An obese someone for that matter. I wished for a small claim, I could file to sue him for violating my civil rights. I didn’t know exactly what clause I was intending to pursue; but I knew that something had to be done. He tricked me. Much like the follow up appointment I had which was supposed to be a discussion of the diagnostic findings of a blood test. What a croak. The nurse had an attitude. She wore a mean smirk on her face as if she enjoyed torturing patients.
“HA,” the nurse bloated. “I laugh on your lapel.” She pulled out the steal devices, grips, syringes, and the like. They strapped me down for a cervical biopsy. This was a moment in time where my bomb actually began to tick. I myself was worried. A slight chance of insanity could have turned into a murderous rage. I slithered from the doctors office on the verge of tears. I had been hoodwinked by the system. Had I known, I was there for an actual medical procedure I would have made a run for it. That’s the story of my life. All the poking and prodding. The routine blood samples here, urine specimen there.
Might as well just Assume the Position...
Excerpt the book Life Honestly After, Aija M. Butler
all rights reserved
“Well all things considered. I’d say I am doing ok. I have been testing my sugars regularly. They have regulated a bit. The Metformin leaves me in a pickle. I am often sick, from its side effects. It sure tells u right away when you have eaten something that you shouldn’t have. These days are rough.”
“How is your schooling coming? I see you started the pharmacology program with Boston Reed Medical College.”
“I did. I am having fun. I didn’t know that it would require so much math. Math was not my subject in school at all. However, once I get the hang of the calculations I enjoy the math very much. I cant believe how much I have learned. I must say that the more I learn about pharmaceuticals, the more afraid I am about taking medication. It almost seems as if the medications give more side effects than their therapeutic purpose. I stopped taking the Sertraline. At, first my anxiety seemed to pass once the chest pain came about. However shortly after I began to have hallucinations. I’m sure that couldn’t be a normal side effect. I discontinued its use immediately. I called to inform you of the change. Nonetheless, I never got a hold of the care coordinator.
Overall school is great. Its beneficial, and the time in class helps me to forget for a few moments about my disease. My family is well hubby has plans to open a barber shop, when we get all of our credentialing.”
“Sounds good. So I have news about your test results.”
“Well, What is it?”
“Well the cocci has filtered your lungs, and we have found some cholesterol in your blood. You are anemic and dehydrated I would like to send you to the hospital today. I am going to admit you and treat you with some antibiotics, give you some fluids, and a blood transfusion. You should be good to go after a few days. I will even furnish a doctors note for school.”
“Wow a doctors note.” I laughed out loud ridiculously. Just before the tears began to roll down my cheeks. I was going insane. There was no way I could go to the hospital. My children needed me. I hadn’t been away from them no more than a few hours since I left the hospital with the boys; and Jazz since my first bout with the disease.
“I’m not going!” I said confidently. In my head. I was afraid to utter my defiant proclamation aloud he may have rounded security. The health officials were sure to strap me down, and bus me over. I wont go. Thank God I had opted to go this appointment alone. I was sure to be transported had family been informed.
“I will fax your admission papers. They should be ready within the hour.“
I cursed him with such passion, my forehead creased and my teeth began to grind. I couldn’t believe how nonchalant he was about the occurrences of today’s events. As if I didn’t have other things to attend to. I was floored my chest felt as if someone was sitting on it. An obese someone for that matter. I wished for a small claim, I could file to sue him for violating my civil rights. I didn’t know exactly what clause I was intending to pursue; but I knew that something had to be done. He tricked me. Much like the follow up appointment I had which was supposed to be a discussion of the diagnostic findings of a blood test. What a croak. The nurse had an attitude. She wore a mean smirk on her face as if she enjoyed torturing patients.
“HA,” the nurse bloated. “I laugh on your lapel.” She pulled out the steal devices, grips, syringes, and the like. They strapped me down for a cervical biopsy. This was a moment in time where my bomb actually began to tick. I myself was worried. A slight chance of insanity could have turned into a murderous rage. I slithered from the doctors office on the verge of tears. I had been hoodwinked by the system. Had I known, I was there for an actual medical procedure I would have made a run for it. That’s the story of my life. All the poking and prodding. The routine blood samples here, urine specimen there.
Might as well just Assume the Position...
Excerpt the book Life Honestly After, Aija M. Butler
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Short Story, My Hero
About 3 am this morning my daughters friend angelicas room caught fire. She is our next door neighbor. Myself and the kids were sound asleep. Thank God my husband often stayed up at night watching television. He was in the bathroom when he first noticed some loud noises next door. We live in an apartment complex. They are not the best developed homes at that; but as you well know if you are living in an apartment what happens in one unit is essentially happening in the next. It’s a domino effect.
While he was in the bathroom he noticed yellow and red lights flaring from the next home so he got curious. The smoke barreled simultaneously as he peered out the upstairs window, dangling from the top of the tubs edge. It was a blur of events after the he realized that we were in danger.
Quickly he grabbed for the children and alerted others in the home. I was told it was like he flew down the stairs, holding baby Jordan and Jeffrey Jr. like footballs and Jazzy baby on his back. He tried to wake me several times calling out my name. I had taken at least 6 of my prescribed drugs that night. I was so sick I could hardly hold my head up. Not to mention, each medication had a side effect of drowsiness. The smoke was filling our home fast. The smolder had begun to filter the room quite heavily. We left our window open during the night to let some fresh air circulate in the room. It was a nice cool breeze out, it helped to calm my nerves and put me to sleep.
The smoke had caught site of my diseased lungs and had latched onto them like the plague. Still, I slept on, drifting away with life’s current. I felt the angels lifting me. Perhaps I would be taken before I could feel the burn of the engulfing flames.
A head count was taken outside, in the apartment courtyard just in front of our apartment. Neighboring family’s gathered into the quad and watched as the bright lights from the flaming window lit up the nights sky. All heads were accounted for but my own.
Frightened and without a second thought my husband whisked into the smoke filled home and grabbed me up from our bed and carried me to safety. He had my purse and meds in one arm, shoes and sweats in the other. I was wrapped in my robe and laid out on the grass in the middle of the courtyard.
The old familiar smell of defeat and peace came over me. I was in and out of consciousness as I awoke from smelling salt. An oxygen mask was then applied to my face in hopes of getting air to my lungs. It stung just as it did when the tubes were taken from my body. It hurt to swallow and my chest hurt when I breathed in.
Writing this addition to my latest works is a miracle. My husband saved my life. I can still smell smoke and as I tell this short story the housing is placing boards on the window of the house next door. As I came too around 5 this morning I had no idea where I was. I was frantic. Hysterical because I couldn’t see my children at first sight, and I had no idea where my husband was.
Sitting up and throwing off my mask and tubing my head began to pound. It was excruciatingly painful to open my eyes. My vision was blurry as I searched the spectators for my children. It was then that I saw my guardian angel, seated not far from the fire fighters with his head cradling in his large hands. He was sobbing softly filled with such overwhelming emotion that it had no other choice but to be released. Stumbling to gain my composure I stood and walked with a slight hunch, until I could straighten my stance. I touched his shoulder gently.
He looked up through his tear felt eyes and starred for a few moments. Once he could register that it was I standing in front of him living and breathing, he stood up without hesitation and took me into his arms. We wept together and thanked God that he had been awake during this hour of night.
The children were safely seated with their grandmother at the end of the courtyard and the families next door to the apartment had all made it out safe and sound.
I stood for the next hour as they battled the remaining flames and cleared the smoke from the building. I could hardly speak. I was still in shock. My husband had saved my life and the lives of our children. He thought nothing of his own life and put ours in place of his own. There were so many thoughts afloat in my mind. Residents stopped to ask if I was ok or in need of anything, but I couldn’t respond. I could hear them speaking but I couldn’t form the words to voice. I thought about the What if’s in the situation. What if my husband had decided to go to sleep early last night. He is a sound sleeper. I am the one usually alert, but since I had taken so much medication I was down for the count.
The neighbors hadn’t bothered to knock on our door and alert us of the situation. They were consumed with the fear of the burning flames, and busy trying to contain the fire. If my husband hadn’t gone to the rest room and noticed the lights outside the window, we may have lost not only our worldly possessions but our lives. I also thought about how unimportant some of the situations were I had presently stressed about. Nothing seemed to matter but the safety of my loved ones.
Hubby came to my rescue. He is my knight and shining armor. If I had any doubts about why we were together it had dissipated in that very moment. I could see the stars in his eyes. We were safe and sound and safe in his arms is often where I seek comfort. He is my earthly protector, lover, and best friend.
Walking around our bedroom, I solemnly look at all the memories myself, husband, and children have shared. Each framed and hung on the wall with care. My deceased Fathers last piece of artwork hung on the wall without harm. The smoke seemed to hide just under all of my possessions as if God blew it past and into the upstairs hall. I cried silently, unable to hold in my gratefulness. My life and the life of my Family was spared. My God and Husband were my hero’s.
Two hours had gone by as I sat in my bedroom looking around. My boys fast asleep, and my daughter off to school. It was as if nothing had happened business as usual. Except there was a change that came over me in those moments, when I faced the possible loss of my family. The stress that had once plagued my mind over material needs and wants had somehow diminished.
Prioritizing my life was on my agenda for the remainder of the day, and thanking God for the many blessings that he had bestowed upon us. For each day is not promised to us, we must take care to love and appreciate our family.
While he was in the bathroom he noticed yellow and red lights flaring from the next home so he got curious. The smoke barreled simultaneously as he peered out the upstairs window, dangling from the top of the tubs edge. It was a blur of events after the he realized that we were in danger.
Quickly he grabbed for the children and alerted others in the home. I was told it was like he flew down the stairs, holding baby Jordan and Jeffrey Jr. like footballs and Jazzy baby on his back. He tried to wake me several times calling out my name. I had taken at least 6 of my prescribed drugs that night. I was so sick I could hardly hold my head up. Not to mention, each medication had a side effect of drowsiness. The smoke was filling our home fast. The smolder had begun to filter the room quite heavily. We left our window open during the night to let some fresh air circulate in the room. It was a nice cool breeze out, it helped to calm my nerves and put me to sleep.
The smoke had caught site of my diseased lungs and had latched onto them like the plague. Still, I slept on, drifting away with life’s current. I felt the angels lifting me. Perhaps I would be taken before I could feel the burn of the engulfing flames.
A head count was taken outside, in the apartment courtyard just in front of our apartment. Neighboring family’s gathered into the quad and watched as the bright lights from the flaming window lit up the nights sky. All heads were accounted for but my own.
Frightened and without a second thought my husband whisked into the smoke filled home and grabbed me up from our bed and carried me to safety. He had my purse and meds in one arm, shoes and sweats in the other. I was wrapped in my robe and laid out on the grass in the middle of the courtyard.
The old familiar smell of defeat and peace came over me. I was in and out of consciousness as I awoke from smelling salt. An oxygen mask was then applied to my face in hopes of getting air to my lungs. It stung just as it did when the tubes were taken from my body. It hurt to swallow and my chest hurt when I breathed in.
Writing this addition to my latest works is a miracle. My husband saved my life. I can still smell smoke and as I tell this short story the housing is placing boards on the window of the house next door. As I came too around 5 this morning I had no idea where I was. I was frantic. Hysterical because I couldn’t see my children at first sight, and I had no idea where my husband was.
Sitting up and throwing off my mask and tubing my head began to pound. It was excruciatingly painful to open my eyes. My vision was blurry as I searched the spectators for my children. It was then that I saw my guardian angel, seated not far from the fire fighters with his head cradling in his large hands. He was sobbing softly filled with such overwhelming emotion that it had no other choice but to be released. Stumbling to gain my composure I stood and walked with a slight hunch, until I could straighten my stance. I touched his shoulder gently.
He looked up through his tear felt eyes and starred for a few moments. Once he could register that it was I standing in front of him living and breathing, he stood up without hesitation and took me into his arms. We wept together and thanked God that he had been awake during this hour of night.
The children were safely seated with their grandmother at the end of the courtyard and the families next door to the apartment had all made it out safe and sound.
I stood for the next hour as they battled the remaining flames and cleared the smoke from the building. I could hardly speak. I was still in shock. My husband had saved my life and the lives of our children. He thought nothing of his own life and put ours in place of his own. There were so many thoughts afloat in my mind. Residents stopped to ask if I was ok or in need of anything, but I couldn’t respond. I could hear them speaking but I couldn’t form the words to voice. I thought about the What if’s in the situation. What if my husband had decided to go to sleep early last night. He is a sound sleeper. I am the one usually alert, but since I had taken so much medication I was down for the count.
The neighbors hadn’t bothered to knock on our door and alert us of the situation. They were consumed with the fear of the burning flames, and busy trying to contain the fire. If my husband hadn’t gone to the rest room and noticed the lights outside the window, we may have lost not only our worldly possessions but our lives. I also thought about how unimportant some of the situations were I had presently stressed about. Nothing seemed to matter but the safety of my loved ones.
Hubby came to my rescue. He is my knight and shining armor. If I had any doubts about why we were together it had dissipated in that very moment. I could see the stars in his eyes. We were safe and sound and safe in his arms is often where I seek comfort. He is my earthly protector, lover, and best friend.
Walking around our bedroom, I solemnly look at all the memories myself, husband, and children have shared. Each framed and hung on the wall with care. My deceased Fathers last piece of artwork hung on the wall without harm. The smoke seemed to hide just under all of my possessions as if God blew it past and into the upstairs hall. I cried silently, unable to hold in my gratefulness. My life and the life of my Family was spared. My God and Husband were my hero’s.
Two hours had gone by as I sat in my bedroom looking around. My boys fast asleep, and my daughter off to school. It was as if nothing had happened business as usual. Except there was a change that came over me in those moments, when I faced the possible loss of my family. The stress that had once plagued my mind over material needs and wants had somehow diminished.
Prioritizing my life was on my agenda for the remainder of the day, and thanking God for the many blessings that he had bestowed upon us. For each day is not promised to us, we must take care to love and appreciate our family.
Short Story...
No Autographs Please…
The hospital staff were lined up from my door to the entrance of the elevators on the fifth floor. I couldn’t believe the turn out. My departure was an event. I held my breathe as I entered the elevator. I started to feel pressure in my chest. The anticipation of the night air was overwhelming. I’d spent a lifetime in confinement.
I was afraid to breathe, for fear the air would cut my lungs. My throat was still recovering from the tubes removed from my throat. My nose had large scabs its nostrils that hurt to the touch. My lips were dry, and my mouth begged for ice.
This was the beginning of my life. I was so unsure of my existence. Afraid of my abilities to act and feel as an adult, added further insecurities to my reconnecting with my daughter. Now walking on her own, and mumbling her first words. I was famous to those in the medical field. I was nobody to the real world. Reality quickly sunk in. There set the pace for my earning my keep, and taking my place on earth. I was alone and very afraid.
Short Story, The Day my Journey Began...
Honorably Discharged...
“Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes and No! I must admit I have become quite fond of the nursing staff. I’m afraid. I am so dependant on everyone, else to take care of my needs. I don’t know how I am going to survive in the real world. Let alone take care of my daughter.”
“Honey look out that window.” Nurse Joyce demanded. “Do you see those blue skies and the wind blowing in the trees? Its Spring. A lovely time to enjoy Gods creations.”Nurse Joyce was always preaching. I was too ,so it was like we had church every other weekend, when she was on duty.
“You’re right! I guess I can’t help but worry. I have this fear of failure that I can’t seem to shudder. What if I don’t make it? The Doctor says I may not ever be the same. I have to be on medication for the rest of my life. I have so many disabilities. My goals and dreams may never take flight.”
“Is this you talking Aija? I am really confused. As much inspiration and motivation you have spread in these halls, is now a mystery to me. I don’t understand. This doesn’t sound like the Aija, I know and have grown to love. I hear those demons, that creep under our beds and try to shakes us. They shake and chase our feelings of confidence and comfort away. You can’t let this change you. This too shall pass. You are a miracle. No Doctor or Nurse, for that matter thought that you would survive this disease. You are here for a reason. Make it count!
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