Tag Archives: Mental Health

Under Constant Consideration 2


Under Constant Consideration Part 1

Dr. Endocrinologist referred me to a nurse educator who I believe holds dykeish (is this a word and did I spell this correctly?) qualities because she made jokes (that I didn’t think were that funny) yet blushed with tears flooding her eyes like she was on a date with me that lasted two hours according to her notes.  She even googled her address in front of me.  Then showed me the trail and mileage of when her and her daughter walked from home to school on their journey to lose additional weight. Odd, no?

Anyhow, she explained in more detail about diabetes, showed me videos and we went through the correct ways to use a One Touch Verio.  Lastly, she informs me that I can get rid of the diabetes since it’s in the early stage.  Then goes on to assume I eat white rice and beans because I’m Hispanic.  I said, “No I’m Italian, and that’s where diabetes came from; you know the pasta.”  She chuckled.  I think we left off great after that date because she said if you ever want more education, just make another appointment to come see me.

*

Then there’s this psychiatrist who’s in the wrong field for the discussion subject of choice were forever about weight loss, even though at our last session she says,”Stand up.  Oh, you have lost weight” as she orders me to step on a hippopotamus scale.  She thought it her duty to give unsolicited nutritional advice in her horrible fucking Dolph Lundgren accent:  No peas.  No carrots.  Zero carbs.  Don’t eat carbs at all.  This includes sweet potatoes!   Maybe one day when you lose all the weight you can eat carbs again.  Don’t weightlift anymore.  Weightlifting makes you bulky.  You’ll never lose weight that way.  Only cardio!  Jump.  Walk.  You know what I’m saying.

Every session felt like I watched a bad sitcom with my presence in the hot seat as this insensitive cunt tried to tell me who I was based on 3 fifteen minute conversations we engaged in.  Then she tried to question my purpose in life, inquire if I ever soul search and spoke about people who sleep past midnight aren’t normal.  She took the cake by getting angrier than I was because doctors diagnosed me diabetic and it didn’t matter if it was the beginning stages.

There were many things that amused me about her terrible character, but what got me is the fact that she works in a mental health industry yet treats (many) patients (according to many who work in the building with her) like shit and never bothers to read anyone’s chart because she believes she’s too good to do so.  The thing with putting people in boxes is it isn’t accurate even though on the surface it seems the people you deal with are all the time, which I expressed to her.  Then I never saw the cunt again.

Thank god I’m not some shrimpy insecure person.  Thank god I don’t allow other people’s opinions to affect me or my life decisions.  Thank god I’m not a newcomer and have been weightlifting for over 13 years and swear by it.  So, I’m a professional yo-yo dieter, but I’ve also had my share of steady weight loss, conditioned fitness and extra curves that come with it.  I’ve always been proud, but I believe some people want to come in your life and not necessarily lecture or cast dirty spells on you, but they want to destroy whatever good you hold for their own reasons.  I swear that’s what it is.

*

An angelic bird, close partner and an acquaintance each whispered to see a podiatrist.  Once again I had to verbally fight for a referral to see a podiatrist and prayed for the doctor to be a woman for I could use thoroughness and words of light from maternal grace.  Well, I got a woman and one of the first things she mentioned was, “If you didn’t have diabetes, your insurance wouldn’t cover the orthopedic shoe cost.”  (Life, working in mysterious ways again.)  Goes on further to say:  With the shoes, both your ankles should feel stable; you’ll be even and wobble less since you’ll have built in arches.  You’ll experience less pain as you walk.  It’ll be good for you.

What this all boils down to is I’m still under construction.  This is probably why I haven’t written much on any of these blogs lately because I’m not in the best mindset and part of me doesn’t want to display the pessimism in every single one of my entries.

It’s disappointing, this long journey I’ve been riding on, how I continuously see this trend of people (doctors, therapists, psychiatrists, endocrinologists, etc) who are in these fields to assist and inspire people to live better healthier lives physically, emotionally, mentally, etc, but fail to do so.  How is it and when does it begin for some people that a job just becomes a job and not what it was intended for?  I guess I believe in practicality and being above and beyond with sensibilities like empathetic (empath) abilities along with a higher vision for existence depending on the occupation.

Still, I don’t want to take nothing away from the two people who did give me hope of course – the dyke nurse educator and podiatrist.  The first gave me positive pep talk, smiles, and probably touched me a few times too many since she thought we were on a date, but she came off focused, direct with the right balance of sincerity, care and concern throughout.  Or maybe she was just being extra nice to me because she enjoyed my presence?  Who really knows?  It doesn’t matter because she was one of the nice ones who did her job and assisted in the best way she knew how.

As for the podiatrist, she mentioned that the good thing about my foot/ankle dilemma is it’ll get better over time, not worse.  The little that she did say carried weight.  I needed to once again get the surge back, the kind where I can remain on the optimistic wave, so I can keep fighting and more importantly never give up.

-Pennington

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MEDS


drugs

God.  I apologize to everyone.  I haven’t been inspired lately.  I write on the side when I can (and I suppose I can put up all my Part 2 postings that were to be continued despite how awful they read?), but it’s hard to feel like I can write something blog-worthy and share it with the rest of you guys.  I can only write from the heart or what I’m personally experiencing at the moment so I’ll share some recent events with you’s. How’s that?  Thanks for reading!

*

I’ve been on an interesting ride these last few years when it comes to seeing therapists and psychiatrists.  At the age of twelve I was diagnosed with Depression.  I had old features, black circles under eyes, razor cuts on my arms and protruding ribs from starving myself at the time to show for it.  However, decades later it seemed I’ve graduated a few years ago (2013) because now new psychiatrists and therapists have diagnosed me: Bipolar.  This explains all the wicked instant mood swings, triggers that were really landmines and how come many of my relationships as well as friendships have failed.

Of course I debated with these so-called experts about nature and nurture because I’m suspicious of everything and everyone that isn’t me.  I debated about all the things that come from my family’s blood and all the things that come from social disease and conditioning.  Still, in the center I fought with myself and knew the truth: There were cracks in the instances and in between all these instances is where I was getting worse.

I’d go into subterranean dark places for leisure, fun and to isolate myself from the world.  I’d write in essays, poems and prose my suicidal ideations which continued from childhood.  I’d meet with a new friend called anxiety again and again and again questioning the past, present and future concerning everything that became (or was) broken.  Was I going to make it another day in this physical realm? My other good friend (since I was 5) came knocking hard on my door and I’d go through all my cycles of chronic loneliness, hopelessness and meaninglessness and stare at the bottomless grief that arrives to taint and place a million holes in my mind, spirit and heart.

Those cracks in the instances became clear as well as my past history when I was going through one of my most tragic experiences at the age of 12 – signed over to two mental hospitals for over six months – I was fed medication for the supposed imbalances in my brain.  First was Prozac, and then came Lithium.  And of course, I didn’t agree with medication being fed to anyone less than 18 years of age, but my mother didn’t share the same views as her 12 year old.  I had zero control as any kid does at that age and was subjected to doctor’s tests, special diets, wondering what was love and how did it look like and was it true I wasn’t normal and these two medications would be the cure everybody else was looking for?

Prozac made me hyper – so hyper that cartwheels became my favorite thing to perform.  I couldn’t stop!  However throughout the day I’d have hallucinations (of what? I don’t remember anymore – but I’m sure I wrote about it in a lost book for the universe to know) and during the night when I closed my eyes to go to sleep I’d have white flashes come over my eyes like strobe lights.  And when I finally fell into deep sleep, the nightmares were horrible – once I dreamt of giving birth to a demonic alien baby.  (Why would a 12 year old dream of having a baby?)

After the hyperactivity, doctors thought to give me Lithium because my grandmother took it and they had reason to believe it succeeded. (I’m not sure how?)  But something tells me this was all a plot for me to lie on their silver platter to undergo a Spinal Tap procedure.  Lithium had its own issues and the dosage was higher – I had to take it 3 times a day.  With this medication came weekly blood work because mercury and other dangerous things a doctor wouldn’t inform you about were concerns. Then there were countless yeast infections my tiny body couldn’t handle.  Lastly, long-term usage meant my kidney and thyroid would be altered, better yet, damaged to a degree in the future.

So every time a current psychiatrist or therapist would bring up the idea of medication to balance the chemicals in my brain – it’s not a wonder why I would say FUCK NO for years on end!  But a few months ago before bringing on the New Year, I made one of the biggest decisions of my adult life and figured I’ll try medication to stabilize my moods and prevent sudden manic highs and lowly lows.  The reason why I decided to try it is because I’m committed to fixing all aspects of myself.

Then again, who’s to say I need fixing if it’s not someone outside me like a relative, a partner or a societal authoritative figure who keeps claiming there’s something about me I need to fix?

 

To be continued.

-Hall

Brain Game



connectome
I’m tired of the Sets.

I’m tired of Reps.
I’ve suffocated myself
with every expectation
my ego wanted to achieve
I strangled myself 
with each mark
on the track record
strolling to the gym.
I now feel my steel church
has turned its back on me.
Or perhaps I’ve turned
my back on it?

-Pennington Hall© 

Qualm


I showered one night and lathered up in the unchanged way I always do, half grudgingly and the other with methodical certainty from bulky arms, to bursting bosoms, to pooch belly, to smooth waist, to entity vagina, to voluptuous thighs until I came across my calve, a steel rock of will and sheer determination.

This became the day I questioned every exhausting set of every draining rep of cruel years spent on sculpting, limping and wincing through the Charlie Horses that arrived to visit me in the tragedy of over stimulating nights to walk every line to put every ounce of life in training to win every fight.

So why did I pull away abruptly?  Why did I fall back on my training approach? How could I fear exactly what I’ve desired the most?  Diamonds that would climb the circumference of a quad and cut as appealing and wicked as ice. Polished for the world to know how I strong I am by how much pain and anguish bore within this delightful body of mine.

I’m reminded of how I want to grow into where my mind and my heart and my spirit of power will take me.  I want to cast out all the words, shocked faces and expressions to ill me of what I accomplish and of who I am.  I look to you, a statue of greatness, a shrine of eternal internal faith and a sudden shift in the atmosphere of the subconscious.

-Pennington©

Mental Hurdle



Once again the mind of a brute struck me!

The exasperating feeling of my body becoming lighter.  The likelihood of my footsteps landing softer on pavement. The ailing reflection of an aura becoming comforted by much refinement in femininity.

I don’t question the bully who mocks my pacing of an indecisive vista of a prize to be earned.  I plunge uncertain in the continuous reel of a rampant stomach bloated like a tub full of fat-bellied quadruplets with my menstrual cycle stringing my hormones in high streaks similar to the musical score of The Shining.

I qualm in a horrid practice of running around every inch of the apartment as if my ass caught fire and all the imaginative ants dropped onto the floor burnt over self-indulgent panic attacks and suddenly I’m at square one bemused due to the fear and speculation of losing weight.

FUCK!

Why am I dieting better?

All day and night I’ve dressed in layers of overbearing shapeless clothing in attempts to hide any inch that might have been vanished from sight.  I’m utterly exhausted in this heat and humidity of both my bloody rotation and the gloom of New York City weather copying the cat of Seattle.

I dislike the idea, the thought and the response of being remotely skinny.

Shrinking down into the thought of centimeters torments my fragile ego.  I feel like at any moment I’ll drown and disappear resembling the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz except water wouldn’t be the offender in this self-made barrier.

Is physical existence vastly different from my mass taking up space on Earth?
(I’m unfamiliar about Science.)

Stupidly and viciously I jumble the idea of ‘size and weight’ as if they equal to muscle defeat when they don’t.  But in this fictitious brain of mine I cannot get over this cemented design as of yet.  Sooner or later I must breakthrough one of my mental hurdles.

Like my Partner in Crime has stated, ‘You shouldn’t be resistant to the idea of losing weight as long as it’s the right kind.’  But many concepts are easier declared than done.

-Pennington

OFF



I’ve been feeling removed, sour and aloof.

I’m going through a different phase than what I’m used to.  I’m digesting life as it comes like some 12-Step Program (without the alcohol or drug abuse).  The only thing I’m certain of at this point in time is my over-analyzing of identity and every aspect of existence.  Or even my lack of interest in absolutely everything.  (Not to be confused with naturally acquiring wonderment or curiosity.  These will remain apparent.)

There’s something separated within my being these days and on the opposite end there’s this stretching and growing of my skin.  Probably out?  Then there’s this third degree of:  Where would human beings lie without ever second-guessing?  There’s forever the searching and examining of things.  Questioning.  Evaluating.  Re-evaluating.  It’s a perpetual cycle classified as the norm.  Probably geared to the people who own the most perseverance?  Or bordering on the serious melancholy of being a narcissist, never truly being satisfied?

The only time things become an issue to me is when certain circumstances seeps into my Training.  A strong part of me now feels slightly comfortable to take time off.  It’s something I haven’t done in years.  I become itchy just when I take 7 days off.  So do I have it in me?  The real question is:  In what way do I want to take time away from Training?  Do I continue training certain body parts?  Do I train lagging areas?  Do I decide to take off completely from Training?  And if so, not only how much time?  But,  how do I go about (anxiety-free) wanting to take time off?

Aside from the Training aspect, there’s something much deeper than what’s on the surface when it comes to my eating habits.  I swore two years ago I was verging on a type of eating disorder.  Thanks to perfectionism and calorie-counting.  I made it a point to do my best to regain control last year and made way for something new to experiment:  Fasting.  Of course I loved it because it was doing exactly what I’ve been in denial of not doing:  Not Eating.  I just further not eating, knowing how vital eating is for energy, fuel, metabolism, training, etc.

Yet with the knowledge of nutrition, one may think I’d be smart about things.  But I’m not.  I have issues.  Some of them are as follows:  How am I to fully recover from my training without eating (or eating enough)?  How am I to sustain hard workouts before and during without eating (or eating enough)?  Fuck!  Why am I training SO hard for hours and/or performing multiple workouts a day for if I’m not eating to support it?  Why be overzealous in the meantime?

There’s this (imaginary :D) or very real need to be perfect and anything less is basically refusal on my part.  I like to consider this a flaw in itself, probably stemming from neurosis and other forms of pathology.  So yes, being imperfect or desiring to be perfect are somewhat one in the same, no?  With this vision of perfection comes the many negative voices, quotes, other people’s words that glide like skateboarders in my head:  You’re not working hard enough.  There’s always someone out there who’s training/dieting better, knows more, more talented, better genetics than you.  What about your thyroid?  You’re fooling yourself if you think you’ll get anywhere.

I know I’m not alone in this.  But along the way I trace the steps backwards from every part of my life from then til now.  Of course this leads into my Training and sometimes I want to go back to the beginning, where my road began from losing 50lbs, making sure I’m no longer pre-diabetic, to finding joy/passion in lifting heavy and erase what I thought I knew or even what I knew was the wholehearted truth.  I would like to go back and erase what I thought I could and could not eat.  Live by simpler words:  “Eat Whole Foods” while never having to complicate things ever again.

I would like to go back and erase all the bad habits I picked up on and redo all my habits in a wide range of exercises, building foundation, body language cues, muscle imbalances and posture just to name a few.  I would go back and be gentle, talk with myself and not put my Ego first on the priority list.  I would have listened more to sound people/advice, kicked off my immature/highly cynical attitude and not injure my joints along the adventure.  Now I’m always hurting somewhere.  I have injuries now that seem to have traded with the injuries of the past and vice versa.  I blame it on introducing new and tougher exercises while leaving out the basic, yet most important ones.  So I push through every pain everywhere and well I believe maybe.  Just maaaaaybe I’m deserving of a break?

Still, somewhere within, a hand trembles
slightly confident, opposing and even a bit brittle
says:  But you aren’t in a position to take rest.
You’re on a quest to perform at your best.
There aren’t off days to whittle your middle.
You are not where you’re supposed to be.
With anything less:  What is there to attest?


-Pennington

I Dislike Motivating Others


motivated people only
Read Carefully!

The number one thing I hate about being a personal trainer is “Motivating People.”  It’s hard and frustrating like procrastinating on procrastinating.

And everyone needs motivation, whether they need more of it, need it for the day, need it for a split second to boost their egos, shine through their jobs or make it through Life just another day. Whatever the case is, never forget that this also includes motivation for other Personal Trainers. Some trainers may have you believe they have the Magic Motivation Potion at all times. But they’re full of shit. Yes, they’re human too. And if you scope the gym properly you will see that OH, YES! –> Trainers train other Trainers. And they should.  For the simple fact remains that you never know what you can learn from others.

Does anyone even realize how hard it is to motivate people in general?

I’m not sure if they do.  If you’re selling an item like something that sells itself, say Cars?  Then is it selling when it basically sells itself?  Do you need to fully commit and try super hard to convince people why this/that particular car is so lovely?  There are many folks out there who don’t know anything about the tiny details of a car, say, 4 cylinders as oppose to 12 and what the hell is Front Wheel, Rear Wheel or All Wheel Drive.  So, No!  This doesn’t count.  Cars sell themselves.  (Or rather the eyes are deceived quite easily?  Ears too.)  Things like necessities are another thing that sells itself.  It’s actually, worse, don’t you think?  Necessities..boy how we all NEED things. 

Sometimes people say Motivation comes down to Presentation.  This is tough, depending on who your audience is, how you are as a person, how interconnected you are towards the situation., etc.  You have to learn how to build great rapport, stand and own your ground, all the while relating to this person you’re about to train with.  I mean, “Why should they believe in you?”  You have to live up to be an example and live up to be the hype or bullshit you’re speaking about, in order to fully motivate folks. And what about the folks who just HATE working out? That just the thought alone not only freaks them out but they start imagining hives coming out of their fucking pores!

How hard is it to motivate your kids to do something (if you’re a parent)?  How hard is it to compromise and find balance in in your relationships?  How hard is it to get out of an old habit when you’re working on the new you?  How hard is it to start something new?  How hard is it to keep the consistency flowing?   To keep a positive attitude?  To always find and believe in a Way? To have faith in yourself? To maintain the spirit of curiosity?  To only seek approval from elders and also by trusting within?  To be able to stay open and allow influence from the many internals/externals of life to challenge your pattern of thinking?

You need tactics.  These tactics need to be fail-proof (almost).  You must rely on everything.  Find and Decide What works.  Then go for it!  Some are driven by fear.  Like feeling self-conscious appearing old, having sagging triceps or sporting a big pot belly.  Others run by desire:  “I want to feel good by looking good!”  Revenge: ” Wait til they see me now!”  Others are propelled by results.  Others get off by the action day in and day out of non-stop discipline.

Believe it or not there are some reasons and beliefs you (can) learn to fall/adopt and be in love with.  Like: “I love being healthy.  I love feeling strong.”  Some reasons you may never truly fall in love with.  Like: “I have to eat smaller portions.  Cut out soda.  What the hell?”  Then, this is where sacrifice would come into the mind of your pro’s and con’s. Of course, there are going to be some lessons you have to learn over and over and over again.  And then, you have to know how to get back on the wagon when you have lost sight of your wagon..you know.. when you’re losing that battle of Will.

How do you motivate people to drop a few grand on you just SO you can help them get in shape and keep them healthy?

There’s a million things people want to do out in the world. And we still have the majority of people not waking up and saying, “Oh I have to get my workout in.” Nope! If this were true, then we wouldn’t have such an outstanding level of obesity out in the world right now, would we? Most normal, average folks prefer going to the movies, hanging out with friends, masturbating, clubbing, looking for intercourse, consume loads of television, video games, drugging themselves, rather spend time with their relatives, put the kids first, study for school or drain their energy from working long hours at the office.

There’s a lot of people who are just not interested in their health. Not interested in knowing their Body Mass Index, body fat or bodyweight. I’m not kidding! Do you know how many people are frighten just to get on a scale? So imagine, how many folks avoid and skip their Doctor and Physical altogether? They rather walk in ignorance, rather than learn if they could prevent that blood clot that’s about to put them six feet under.  So why would these same types of people ever decide to go to the gym?  Why would they ever enjoy lifting weights? Why would they want to perform cardio? Why eat nutritious foods? Why?

Well, there are lots of reasons.  Too many fucking reasons ACCORDING to the WORLD.  And well, they need YOU  or me to figure out those reasons. Surely, they can get someone to help them find those reasons.  They would need someone to motivate them to solidify those reasons and make them priority. Sometimes it takes someone to bring it out of you/them. Sometimes people just need someone to hold them accountable, someone to guide them and answer their questions. Oh, but what about if they never ask for help, eh?

How do you motivate someone who doesn’t even want to help themselves? Well, some people say you have to be a psychiatrist.

So, what do you think.. is it hard to motivate people to do anything, (even if doesn’t include a Fit and Healthy Lifestyle)?

I think it is.

Pennington

FUCK THEM!


A Reminder:  To those folks who read or subscribe to this blog, I generalize A LOT. I have super STRONG opinions. You don’t have to agree with me or what I say. But please respect me and my blog. Keep in mind, I write for me only. I don’t write for an audience to like me. I write to express. However as always, I appreciate every single one of you folks for reading what I have to type/say. It truly makes my day. 😉

So here’s the shit that truly bothers me.

1. When people have all their limbs and still find billions of reasons and thousands of repetitive excuses why not to work out. WHY NOT TO WORKOUT! I’ll never understand this because number 1 your existence (no matter how tedious and unwanted it can be) is a gift. A gift bestowed to you. I have no idea where it came from. But it’s a fucking gift! OK! Which means that it’s not only a gift of spiritual, mental, sexual, emotional and what have you. But it’s a physical gift! The body is a magnificent and an amazing machine. It cures you, grows hair, nails and brand new skin. It allows you to have kids, turn, twist, bend, stretch, ejaculate and orgasm for Pete’s sake. It’s fucking awesome! And for people to not take advantage of the physical self, the active self is bound to suffer whether it be from psychological or illness factors.

What kills me is people who don’t have limbs or are paralyzed in a wheelchair. Understand, these lovely people would get up and be active if they had the choice! They want to play ham ball, have sex, cook in the kitchen freely and hike mountains. Yet, the people who have all available body parts refuse to use them. WTF! And I’m not here to talk about the number of reasons why they feel like being lazy, perpetually holding on to some form of insecurity and are depressed for life. Because the last time I checked everyone living is fucking depressed because we’re alive and dealing with everyday fucking life, we all have deep-seated insecurities that we deny and we all want to be lazy deep down inside. So anyways, “What and where’s the logic of having a body/limbs and allowing yourself (intentionally) to be immobile?” Where’s your gratefulness? Where’s the love for your temple?

I remember on a few occasions I’ve seen a guy on a wheelchair at the gym performing Triceps Pressdown. I was captivated and had to go over to smile and give him the utmost credit. I seen another guy with no arm, pretty much amputated up to the deltoid (the shoulder cap for those who are unaware). But he made use of his shirt. He hooked up a piece of his shirt onto the pulley/jungle machine and basically did his own versions of pull rows. I was astounded! Right there and then, after seeing those guys I knew I could never slack off at the gym EVER.. even if I wanted to. What those guys did was pure heart and soul. That shit rocked my globe and actually intimidated me. I’m very grateful to know people who are masters of their domain. People with limbs who are fucking lazy could take a few pages mentally and physically from someone as fabulous as wheelchair and amputee lifters!

Which brings me to the thing that fucking annoys me the most!

2. It bothers me strongly how companies lose millions of dollars due to their employees not showing up for work because they’re chronically sick. They tend to have all these sick days at their fucking disposal!  (Just to think some people out there truly need sick days but can’t get their benefits.) And some take full advantage of this. I’m completely disgusted in these folks. *rolls eyes* It really really truly truly bothers me that:  1. Healthcare isn’t free in America. I believe we all should have the right to be cured and healthy at all times. Don’t you think? This should be our first human right. Not, “Oh do you have insurance? Otherwise we can’t help you. Oops, sorry DENIED. Don’t take it personal and have a nice day!” This shit is bogus to me.

And 2. If people don’t want to physically workout, knowing that exercise prevents chronic diseases, osteoporosis, heart disease, diabetes  and degenerative joint/bone disease. On top of the fact, the good thing about exercising is that it enhances moods, minimizes stress, offers structure in your life by setting goals,  is known to build a huge sense of achievement, manage weight, high energy levels, better circulation throughout your entire body, picks up self-esteem and instill confidence in every aspect you deal with in your Life. I say FUCK THEM HARD! They should be cast in HELL! They can get what’s coming. If people refuse to love, pamper and help themselves, why should anyone else give a fuck about them? This is Tough Love with full reason.

So if they want to continue the fabulous life of being obese, drowning in chronic diseases they could have prevented, still like the ignorance of bliss through being uneducated, allowing their kids to be overweight, to only watch them crumble, these sad Joe’s driving around thinking they’re fucking cute in what I call their fat-mobiles. Just let them be. Let them knee joints fail, let their pronation of shoulders fuck them over, let them get their star of Hunchback of Notre Dame back and hips fall apart keeping everyone behind them at the bus stop waiting for longer periods of time because YOU don’t take care of your body. Let them limp. Let them see how fragile their physical body is when they accidentally fall from a ladder and they shatter their hip in an instant.

Now, can these ungrateful folks get cut of their Health Insurance? Why couldn’t this be a fair thing to do? Why can’t we treat people to health for free when they are doing their best day in and day out to be physically active and strive towards well-being? Why must the people who take their body for granted get any help from any Doctor? Why? They’re undeserving of it.

But this is just pissing me off, just speaking about this. So I will end it here. 🙂

Pennington

I Have A Reason



I’m not phony and I don’t pretend to be.

What you see on the surface of this cheeky apple smile, soulful deep brown eyes and Latin curvaceous body isn’t what you’re most likely to get!  I look soft on the outside, but I’m a raging ball of cynic and hate. I smile to hide all the anger, all the hurt, all the pain that takes a bit of my existence to the dark side.  And, you do know how people get soulful eyes, right? All the hurt, all the anger, all the pain, all the shit in the existence you maintain and keep on the planet called Earth.

I’m not one of those people who stands by feeling bad for your glorious self-pity moments. I’m not the person who consoles you knowing damn well YOU were the one who caused all of the problems in your Life.  I’m not the one who’s going to side with you when things get tough for YOU because I know you sit down at night, lay in your bed with dreams and fantasies that will calm your soul and allow you to sleep. I’m not fake. I won’t play a sitcom character in your life.  But I can tell by your words and the straight eye that you are FAKE. Especially when I brighten up your eyes with the god damn TRUTH!

I do not pretend to dislike my family. I do not pretend to act like I secretly love them. I have a reason to not give a fuck in this world about anyone or anything..only if I choose! I have a reason to say, “HEY I never liked my fucking family and I’m fucking proud of it!” How many people you know can say that? Those be the same people to front and go kiss ass with their family later at the family gatherings and stupid fucking holidays. Well, no, my hate’s never changed for them. I’ve practically disowned them. I never had what some would call the Good Life. I never had that GOOD family. This is my fate, these were the cards that were given to me. But you act like you have problems, when they’re all social or all made up in your fucking head. Puh-lease!

Here’s the difference between me and you:  I like generalizing, I enjoy being a cynic, not because it keeps me on guard from the rest of the world. But because when you look all around you, what do you see in the world? Selfish motherfuckin assholes and bitches! How many people look out for themselves first or their families first, their money first, their orgasm first? So, who’s lying to themselves? Me or you?

The other difference between me and you is I don’t want anyone to pity me. See, if I give a shit if you side with me once I tell you the details in my teacup. Why I lift the way I do? Why Training is the only therapy besides writing for me? Yes, I know life has been shitty to me. And it took me a while to comprehend that “yes I can fucking CHANGE it!” I can be happy. I can accept me.  But don’t go thinking I’m something similar to you because chances are I’ am fuckin not!

Once again, the demons crawl at me and try to guilt me into seeing my mother in the hospital. So she’s been repeatedly dying since I was 9 of age. Back then, I used to believe in those television shows and how they portray that YES YOU CAN have the ultimate family life. No, no, no. More fake stuff. TV! I never got along with my mother because she never got along with me. So I can’t forgive and I try to forget. But I’m good at holding grudges just like I’m good at pissing  people off. Now she’s not responding in the hospital. I haven’t seen her in roughly a year. And I rather see her when she’s dead. Maybe, then I’ll go see her and head to her funeral.

And you think, you know me?

Pennington