Sunday, August 17, 2014

Speak Your Fear

Do not crawl inward
And hide within your walls
Reach out with your spirit
And boldly stand up tall

Speak your fear and pain
Open up and cry
Provide it not the shelter
To hold your soul inside

Fear will eat your beauty
And swallow words up whole
Pain will clinch you tightly
And never let up hold

Speak your fear and pain
Draw it into light of day
For in the dark it holds you
And keeps you far away

Diffuse that power o'er you
Boldly cast it out
Hold not your lips silent
Open up and shout

Speak your fear and pain
My love, I beg you try
I promise only comfort
Speak, shout or cry

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Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Suicide Stalks Me

Suicide is a loathsome stalker who has haunted me most of my life.

My first attempt of suicide occurred when I was 14 years old. I've had 4 serious attempts since that time and thought of it often. This is not something I want to have in my life, but unfortunately, this is the demon that tracks me, attacking me at my weakest moments.

Make no mistake; I want to live. Suicide is a voice in my head that begs me to end the pain from which I find no shelter. He speaks into my ear when I am hopeless.

"No matter what you do, this pain will return. You can change everything about your life, but you'll feel this way again at some point. You'll never be able to completely avoid this. Your only escape is death. You may as well do it now."

This is the demon that follows me from which I long to escape. This is mental illness and while it is treatable, there are no guarantees that it won't return. I make no promises that I won't take my own life one day. Just know, this is not my failure, nor the failure of anyone in my life. No one can prevent this other than God, or me, and only me if I am strong enough.

If I take my life it is because Demon Suicide has caught me and dragged me under and only he is to blame.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I deal with suicidal thoughts. Certainly a societal taboo, this is what keeps so many of us sick and struggling, and often results in death. When one is afraid to divulge this "sinful" illness, one is locked away with only the voice that begs us to take our own lives.

I know he waits for me to stumble. Upon my next emotional crisis, he may be lurking, hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce on me. My only hope is to fortify myself in the good times so as to be as prepared as possible when he returns. I have no doubt this monster will return, as he has so many times in my life. I am resolved to give him my best fight when he does and I hold out hope that one day I will oust him for good.

It has only been my motorcycle which gives me hope that I may outrun him yet.

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Saturday, August 9, 2014

Conversations Overheard at Hotel Breakfast

"In 1975 when I worked as a manager at UPS, we had to have a certain amount of minorities on staff. Keep in mind, these two would be part of that, as minorities. . ."

He motions to the two women at his table of five.

"We HAD to have at least one black guy on staff. Can you believe that? We HAD to! I would have rather have 5 white women working for me than one black guy."

The entire table nodded in approval.

"I saw my first black when I turned 18 and took a trip out of Minnesota," the woman said.

"Yeah, yeah, I was nearly 21 when I saw my first one. . . " another replied.

Talk went on to discuss the weather, Harley Wide Glides, tree huggers, what's in the barn, and that cheatin' Mexican man that Martha married.

"For some reason our John Deere had dirt all over it. Like someone had dumped dirt on it."

"I was watching this thing on TV about the Hells Angels last night and Sturgis, and how his own gang was trying to kill him for stealing drug money, and about these women who rode Harleys back in the 1970's and their role in the gangs. . . " she went on and on.

Welcome to South Dakota.

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Thursday, August 7, 2014

Getting Hurt at Sturgis

I wear this gear.
Because I've been,
Hurt before.

I won't let any,
Thing or person,
Hurt me more

I like my gear.
Have you not seen,
All my scars?

I hate it here.
The damage has,
Gone too far.

I don't wear,
Gear for you.
I wear gear,
Because of you. . .

(Spawned by a comment made by Vespa Steph about her gear, I found it poignant and timely, here at Sturgis. You don't see many people wearing gear, but most of them are doing plenty of damage to themselves on and off the bikes. It seems that's what Sturgis is about.)

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About Sash

People call me "Sash" because I'm a former beauty queen in my old home town. My father used to ride in an MC which got me interested in the culture. After my last divorce I said "goodbye" to Susie Homemaker and became the naughty, biker chick I always felt inside. (Read more...)