Monday, December 28, 2009

It Is Not Bloody Well All Right, Alright!

The first time I saw blood on my sheets was at the innocent age of 17 1/2, after my first boyfriend;  tall, California blonde, athletic, and gorgeously selfish, Clark Denill, whom referred to  himself  as "Horse", induced the period that I had been waiting for since the age of 12 when every other girl, except me, seemed to be bleeding. One more rite of passage done. Even if not quite neccesarily right!

Other than a few too many bike falls and sitting way ....down on a picket fence, I never saw a lot of blood, as a young girl. Even when my younger brother bashed my head with a heavy toy gun and knocked me out, I never bled. The time I sunk into the male cross bar on a borrowed bicyle drew a few trickles and no tickles. The inevitable often-administered wooden spoon across my young behind, thanks to an enraged babysitter whom all too often lost her patience, caused me to lose self control and pass some air. Yet, I kept most of my valued blood cells intact.

This March 09, I had my first hemorage. Hooray for hanging on that long. Even being forced to stand on my head for hours, as a kid, never made me much more than really light-headed, quite dizzy, and ready to sleep walk, once again. Yet, this new sticky trick ... I managed to do while lying in bed, after too few hours of sleep, and awakening to wipe what I mistakedly assumed to be a runny nose. I chose not to see a doctor. Since I had already, unwisely, slept with mine, decades earlier. Afterall, just the day before, I had my second acupuncture session, and was already working on healing myself with Eastern Medicine. Looks like I needed more than a few sharp needles in the face.

Within six weeks, I suffered 3 more hemorages. My 12 year old son was going through a real growth spurt and in what some might consider the misadventures of the onset of puberty. Another anonymous caller had malicously slandered me to the government. The Ministry Of Children And Families was harassing us and visiting our home on a regular basis. A crazy God lover lady had moved in across the hall and was telling me that I was loved by her Father as Art in Heaven. The West Vancouver Police were questioning me. Due to a paranoid Daddy who must have liked and been afraid of one of my eye-catching business cards. Receiving hate-mail over the internet and breaking up, for the last time, with my bitter x-fiance, was just too much. Not too mention the recent and uneccesary death of my beloved Mommy and my painful and prolonged rotator cuff injury incurred from too many truth's gone untold .... manifesting in my tell-tale temple of a beautifully neglected body.

Shall I mention that I was actually making a decent living for my son and I, by giving massages to others at this painful time? Not only were my male clients seeing me as the sex object most of the opposite sex and insane same, have always fantasized me to be, I was picking up on their stuff and adding to my own pile of poop. Although, I am still quite sure that the hemmorages were felt by me on a compassionate level, thanks to the heartfelt caring I still held for Antoni;  the man whom merely dreamed of being my dream man and yet, was still devoted to putting himself and the woman he professed to devoutly love, through his own private hell.

After my son turned 13 in April of this year and MCFD attempted to illegally apprehend him at Whole Foods, my hemmorages mysteriously ended, after taking much needed immediate action. Antoni and I drove by in a U-Haul rental, opened up the door as Kaelin was running, and literally scooped him up, before we fled and went into seclusion for many fear-filled months of continued terror. Safe in many ways and confined to a prison in so much as our freedom was lost; post traumatic stress disorder was in order for both my son and I. I certainly did not need any seasoned sugar-coated talker and certified and well paid nut-case, who would rather be spanked by me, to give this expert any professional advice. A damn good lawyer was all I needed. Not too mention weeks of bed rest. At least I gave myself the gift of the first ...

The pressure feels off of me, somehow. Simply because I decided to write a mere chilling chapter of my truth and be free of all the pretend. I am such a grand actress. The few months before my Mom died, 2 1/2 years, I was actively engaged in two acting roles withn the same piece; Eve Ensler's dyamic ''Vagina Monologues''. Totally focused on learning my lines and following someone elses script, that I didn't even notice my Mom, barely living up north, in Prince George, withering away, after falling and breaking her pelvis eight painful months earlier. What good am I to anyone when I am distracted by what others want me to do for them, rather than what I deeply need to do for me and mine?

So, here I am, perched over my beautiful boy's new laptop, with my own mac in the computer hospital and no extra money to pull it out of repair. Wondering where the rest of this month's rent will come from after deciding I can no longer live in self- deceit any longer. My aching eyes, that continue to  sparkle with joy, need to be healed from years spent writing on a pentium 3. Wearing glasses at the age of two and onwards ... until six years young, after my sister Carol stepped on my pretty rhinestone spectacles before advancing to a pirate patch for years, until my stigmatism was corrected enough so that no one could notice my one lazy eye. So much have I kept hidden.

Wait until I tell you about my mouthful of mercury! They say a teaspoon of that deadly chemical will kill all the fish in a lake. So what about what has happened since the damn broke, last year, and I went into anaphalactic shock after a sit-up and sobbing sequence, induced after a bout with grief over my darling Mommy's passing and the deep belief that I could have somehow stopped her death from occuring. Of course, eating my own mercury fillings from my malnourished childhood was not what I had figured. Especially since a couple of teeth had begun eroding and eventually breaking, due to decades of never having replaced fillings;  since my sugar - induced, empty-caloried, over-processed childhood.

I must say I have been very pro-active in taking a few minor steps ... Firstly, a Flexwood bed, built in North Vanouver, where we were living for a year, up until last mid April, when we fled for safer grounds. I called up the compassionate creator of the $4000.00 bed and told him I had given my bed to the last mover and had been sleeping on  an ill-fitting mattress in the rental suite for the past year. Since I am a published writer and a media savvy promoter who was once working in and with the media, writing my own popular magazine column and hosting my online radio show, my intention was heard and I am now healing on my eco-freindly queen-size bed with hypo-allergetic sheep wool pillows and comforter.

Next step, to live my life as if it is my last. Since it is. So, let's begin .. Ask the universe for what I want and I shall receive. I know it works. I have seen the miracles come into my life. My son is merely one of such sweet and sacred such. After two rapes, cervical cancer, eight abortions, breast lumps, rhuematoid arthritis and more .... I am a poster gal for rawsome ressurection. Now, for the faith. Trust that I can continue to let go ... in order to allow in what and who I choose. Stop selling my soul to the devil. Know that I AM enough as I am. Let others in on the no longer secret that not only am I able to help, I sometimes need it, too!

Well, world, get ready .... I am turning 50 spank-free years young on January 5th. Up until my bestseller book on my life of abuse is out on the shelves or I decide to instead tell the story of my Return To Innocence, I AM accepting conscious gifts of gratitute, offering my selfless service, and working on mutual trade for highest energies expended and a past life of inner turmoil and unhappiness ended. The next 150 years are going to be the best ever!

Gratefully Ever After,



Feel free to send me much appreciated finances towards writing my book or purchase an advance copy ...  to my paypal account - or - Katherine Marion.


Bless you for being there and really reading between the luscious lines of my loving life!

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