Category Archives: LGBT

Bohemian Lullabye

Yes this may or may NOT be the prologue to Shaye’s tale

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Prologue

“What are you doing?” my brow furrowed as he first turned his gaze and then his entire body away from me.

I was met with silence, that cold ring of silence that makes you uncomfortable and anxious all at the same time. I stared at the ceiling and tapped my fingers together wondering if I was going to get an answer from him.

We had been in a lull between tours and we had just another few weeks before we went on the road again. There had been talks of separate buses, because who wants to deal with a weepy Oliver when he can’t see the baby. I didn’t even know if the entire family was coming along this time. The last month long tour we did on the west coast we were ramped and it just blew.

There was a crack in my ceiling; I idly made it into various shapes as he still was silent. I knew he wasn’t dead, how morbid of a thought, because he was still breathing. And he wasn’t snoring so he wasn’t asleep. He was just waiting. Just fucking waiting. For what? I didn’t know. I had nothing left to apologize for. I tried to make amends for my past, for being distant, for not wanting to jump his bones every five seconds, hell I apologized for not making the bed the other day. But it wasn’t enough.

I took a deep breath “Baby, why did you turn away from me?”

“Because I needed to, because sometimes I don’t even think you realize that you aren’t a person anymore.”

I winced, sighed and let my head drop. “Alright, if that’s how you feel.”

I slipped out of the bed, feet hitting the cold stone of the floor, and quickly yanked on a pair of yoga pants and a sport tank and headed off to the kitchen. I almost expected him to follow me. I knew he wouldn’t, when he gets like this he never does. I half hoped that the guys were coming over to snag him for a rehearsal today. As the coffeemaker began to drip I scooped my hair into a ponytail on the top of my head. He called me pebbles when I did that, not that he had done that lately. I glanced around at the quaint stone cottage and made a face at the boxes I had yet to unpack.

I just didn’t have the strength or energy lately, honestly all I wanted during this break was to rest and spend time with Eric. But my time with him kept leading to these petty fights and I just, I just didn’t know what to do. He’s so logical and I’m so not. I’m spontaneous and he’s organized. I love clutter and he, well he can’t leave dishes in the sink overnight.

Adding some coffee to my sugar and cream I plopped down in my oversized armchair and flipped the lid open to the box closest to me. Pulling a manila envelope out of the top, I frowned because I didn’t remember when or how that got there. I opened it slowly and placing my coffee on the table next to me, reached in tentatively. It was full of pictures.

I pulled them out one by one, studying each and every detail. Some were from even before we hit it big. Way before. Some were from high school, HIGH SCHOOL. When my hair we all kinds of curious colors, and there was smiles on all of our faces. Each of the pictures as they fell into my lap brought back memories I hadn’t had in so long. Some bad and some good but each had lyrics and poems attached to them. I knew what I had to do to get out of this funk. I grabbed my pone and loaded up a bunch of songs and stood up letting the pictures flutter to the floor.

I hastily wrote a note and left it on the table:

Eric,

Went for a run to clear my head. Technology free day, soon as I come home. Yes I have it on me, and my knife and my pepper spray.

Love you,

Shaye

 

Placing my ear buds in, I stretched my legs out and headed out the door of my small stone fortress, and out into the woods. Taking in a deep breath of that green fresh mountain air I began to slowly jog, losing myself in my memories.

© S.R. Gray 2016

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This is NOT a Love Story

The first of many books I stated, let me know what you think

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This is NOT a love story! And what I mean by that is that this is some mushy gushy story about love triangles, about some guy or girl shaped my world or any of that nonsense. Though if I really think about it those aspects are in there. However, this is NOT a love story. I will not let you categorize it as such, much like Disney categorized Frozen as a sisters story when it WAS a love story. This, at least I think is more of a suspense thriller, but most people would disagree…Granted most people can’t see inside my brain. Hell I can’t even see inside my brain. Ok off track here a little bit. Anyway, now that we are clear what this isn’t, let me tell you what this is.
This is MY story; yeah get your chuckles out now. I know what most of you think of me, even some hell probably some of those who I’ve chatted up in the grocery store line. I know what you’re thinking. And no, I am not a conspiracy theorist or any of that nonsense, I just know what mask I where when and how people judge me in relation t such. Hell, I’ve burned some of those masks years ago and people still remember them. They are seared so hotly into people’s brains that I will never be who I am today but always who I used to be. So, this is a story without the mask, or at least I hope I can be brilliant honest and make it through. This is the story I should have typed a thousand times in a thousand different ways and I didn’t…
I have a lot of good excuses why I didn’t, but nothing that really gets me out of it. I have 5 fucking stories on my computer, 5! And they each have at least 2 chapters…One of them even had a PROLIGUE! And they are genuine stories that I hope to finish someday, but I can’t put my heart back in the place it was when I was writing them, does that make sense? Ok so by now you know that in person I have many masks, I make a lot of excuses and totally judge books (and movies) by their cover (and tag lines…see first paragraph). Let’s add to the stack shall we? I often go off on tangents that no one can follow (be prepared), I can be very sexual and potty mouthed, and sometimes I just out and out lie…Granted I think it’s more of a retelling of the story in a more fanciful fashion but when push comes to shove, I lie. If you have to ask why at this point I would tell you because I like to. See I told you a suspense thriller would be more my story.
So here I am baring my soul, to the world. Or at least I hope to. In this story that is not about love, though there is love in it. A story full of stories, full of unheard truths and confessions. Maybe I’m repenting for some bad shit I did in a past life, but all I got from all the oogie boogies down in New Orleans where that something really bad happened in a past life but they couldn’t tell me. I think I am writing my story because it is time, or that I am running out of time. No I am not suicidal, I am literally running out of time, I was supposed to write 50,000 words by the month of December and as of right now my word count is 607. I think if I can pound out 50,000 words in two days I would be incredible proud of myself but incredibly worn out. But I made a promise to someone in New Orleans that I would finish a book by the beginning of this year and I broke that promise. I hate breaking promises. So now it’s time to promise myself I will finally finish what I have started. For once in my life have something to look back on and say hey you…look at that, not only do you make beautiful kids, bake a mean apple pies and have a gay harem that puts the world to shame…but you wrote a fucken book. Go team you.
Now that I have gotten a minor introduction out of the way I guess we should start with my childhood right? I don’t have a lot of memories as a kid, but I have flashes of them, if that makes sense. I look through photo albums and I know faces and names and not a lot of details. Every once in a while a very clear memory will pop up in there and I will blurt it out, but those memories are so sporadic, sometimes I wish they would either stay or go away completely.
©S.R.Gray 2016

The Answer You Didn’t Want

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You sat there in the chair shifting. The cushion was not comfortable but it wasn’t the worst you’d ever deal with. You waited as the papers shuffled on the desk and he turned to face you. Quietly the little boy with the big brown eyes was playing with the blocks. The noises made the silence worse. Shuffle shuffle, click click, unidentified sounds from that beautiful boy. Finally he turned, you dug your fingers into your legs to keep from shaking. You already knew the answer but you needed to hear it from someone who could tell you that you weren’t crazy. He had a PhD, he knew crazy.  Autism, Aspergers to be exact. Along with Sensory Processing Disorder and anxiety. You lips pressed together so you don’t cry. You knew what they were going to say, but hearing it was a slap in the face. But 4 years later you’re still ok.

Tap, tap, tap….fancy pen on a fancy leather shoe. Your under a microscope. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. Claims he doesn’t know. But you already heard the answer, because you’ve been living with it for years. But you needed to hear him say it. Say that you were bipolar and borderline. And he refused. So you broke his mug. And when you were finally ready to hear the answer, it was still a stinging mark across your face, because it wasn’t supposed to be right. 3 years later, you’re still alive.

Over and over this happens. It feels good and bad at the same time. Vindicated but what the fuck are you supposed to do now?

Now…When you need answers. When the bloods come back highly abnormal, you get nervous. And it’s not nervous that they will find something but more nervous that they wont. You are tired, swollen and drained. So they had scheduled another test. And you pray something pops up. Because in all your years …Nothing has. It’s hard to fight an invisible disease when you can’t find it. Sick and tired of being sick and tired. So you hope they find something. So that you won’t  have to suffer without reasons…

But you realize in this moment that this may be the one answer that you don’t want to have already answered.

Food for thought
Shaye xoxo

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Maybe Dumbledore Isn’t Always Right – Rebecca Ethington

One of my favorite authors and closest friends posted this on Facebook a few days ago. I found it so profound, and you don’t usually find stuff like that on FB anymore. It summed up so many things, what ifs and lonliness, bullying, and just not knowing when to reach out and help someone or when to ask for help for yourself.

Never be afraid to reach out and help those in need, never be quick to judge because you never know what that woman behind that mask or the man behind the curtain are really like. Sometimes it isn’t east to click your heels together three times, sometimes their is no faerie godmothers. But there is always you, and that is good enough for me.

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“There is a scene in the final Harry Potter where Harry and Dumbledore meet at a place between life and death, and in that space they see a piece of Voldemort’s soul – this quivering, whimpering, ugly child, shoved underneath a bench.
And Harry, tries to go to it, convinced it needs help. And Dumbledore tells him not too.
I’ve always hated Dumbledore for that. Yes, Voldemort is evil, did he probably deserve what’s coming to him – yes. And I am in no way comparing myself to that quivering whimpering child, hidden away in pain.
But we have all been there.
We have all been so full of loss and heartbreak, and agonizing defeat, and sadness, and rejection. That we have all been there.
We have been that forgotten child in the corner, a deep part of us just shaking and crying and desperately hoping that someone would just come over and pull us out of the dark and hold us while we cry and comfort us until it all goes away.
I know I have.
And chances are, when you are there, you don’t know how to ask, or maybe you don’t have anyone to turn to anymore. You are alone, and you can hear people talking on a bench and your crying out for help, but they don’t come to find you.
So take this with a grain of salt. But you know those “whiny” posts everyone complains about on Facebook? Yes, some of them are just negative people. But what if some of them… just maybe… where people so lost and alone and scared and so desperate for help that they are asking for help the only way they know how. That maybe they just need that hug, or that phone call with a real voice.
I can’t believe I’m going to say this… but maybe sometimes we shouldn’t listen to Dumbledore. Because maybe sometimes they need our help, our compassion, our empathy and our love. Don’t be afraid to reach out – because people are people – but they are also human. And in this crazy world, we can’t do it all on our own.” – Rebecca Ethington

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We Have Apples

So there is this wonderful mental illness blog that I follow by Rachel Griffin called We Have Apples. A little bit ago she had put up a post asking for pictures, both uplifting and at our times of trouble to put in a music video for a project she is doing. Let me give it to yo in her own words (it pasting it from her site)

“As a lot of you know, I’m a singer/songwriter in New York City with a fabulous life…. and a mental illness! (the two can go together! And errr.. it wasn’t always that way! LOL) I am so passionate about mental health awareness, ending the stigma, and connecting with other warriors like you! I am also writing a musical about these topics.More about the mental health musical I’m writing, We Have Apples, can be found on the website. You can also hear songs there. (But the song for this video is not released, yet- You’ll be the first to hear it, though!) If you want, you can sign up for the show’s mailing list to be kept posted on the development!:)

I was just selected as a Dramatists Guild Fellow, which means this year I will be working on developing We Have Apples with Broadway professionals!

More about my career as a singer/songwriter at: Rachel Griffin Website. This info I’m giving is not because I want to brag, but I want to tell you a little about my career so you know this song and video we are going to make will be high quality and could do very well! 🙂 I’ve won two National songwriting contests, recently wrote a song for an internal Macy’s campaign, and I have a publishing deal for a few of my pop songs.”

Well I participated in this as mental health is a very important subject to me….Obviously. I am keeping my fingers crossed that I will get to work it Rachel in the future. But here it is…..My debut in a music video….Pass and share it is so important!!!!

Superhuman Spoonie Squad

Recently I made a group on Face book called *see title of post* I was tired of joining groups with over 1000 plus members and trying to find my niche.

Superhuman Spoonie Squad

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This was my callout for my members

I have started a group for all of my spoonies. Because sometimes it’s nice to have a place to go, when you can’t have a friend to hold your hand, and there isn’t over 2 billion strangers to try and converse.

So raise your hand if you need a voice, a hand or just to lurk and hear what spoonies like you have to say.

Safe space. Is what I intend. Rant, vent, laugh, cry…..

Comment, pm, tx, email….get in touch

Superhuman Spoonie Squad

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This was what I had to say about me.

So let’s see….
Graves disease
Immunothrombocyticpurpua
IgA Deficiency
Chronic fatigue syndrome
Fibromyalgia
Uticaria focal caused by who the fuck knows anymore
Bipolar II
Borderline personality disorder w/narcissistic tendencies
Anxiety disorder
Binge Eating Disorder
PTSD from all forms of abuse, violence and my miscarriages
Oh and I randomly black out for reasons they still don’t know

At least I don’t have cancer?

Well yall know me. I’m a sassy, snarky survivor that tries (sometimes too hard) and pushes myself (definitely to hard). So as I get my computer fixed I can continue writing the books that I have started. I am going back to school in the fall to get my bachelor in therapy for teens with mental and personality problems.
My dream is to open a coffeeshop, with mismatch in cushions that is a safe space. A Place Where IF YOU NEED help YOU HAVE someone to talk to. It’ll have books and board games and at ni h t there will be optional group meetings. THE Walls Wil BE DECORATED By PHOTOGRAPHS AND Art From Local artists. My photography studio will be in the back.

They are still fucking with my meds so if I say non sensible things In here I’m sorry. My fibro flares seem to be worse because of the rest of my diseases.

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I know some of my readers and fellow bloggers use this world as a safe space to vent. I want you to know that there are other places as well. I have my degree in therapy as does a few in my group, but that is not what the group is for.

This is what my group is all about.
Friendship, handholding, venting,laughing, crying and being the incredible human beings we are….even if we don’t see it some times.

If you want to you are invited to join us, to lurk, to talk, to listen and to make or 5.

Superhuman Spoonie Squad

I belive in you.

Sparkly love

Shaye

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What am I fighting for?

Well whilst I can’t answer this directly on here just yet as it was a question posted for gishwhes.  I will say, things have not been peachy and there are days I feel like I am fighting for my life.

On a Lighter Note….Marriage Equality

Now I know you think I am going to go on and on about my thoughts and what not about marriage equalisty and so forth. But no. I am just going to share this tidbit of a conversation I had with my 6 year old tonight :

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Pixie? Why are your Barbies kissin?

P- Well, they just got married.

Me – Is that so?

P- Yupp!

Me – They didn’t want to marry boys?

P -Nope! Girls have softer lips!!!!

Me – *cracks up*

And people say that our future is doomed…does that sound like the doom song? Nope? I can sing you the doom song…Trust me I grew up on Invader Zim <#

Always,

Shaye

xoxo

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Trigger Warnings, Sex and all that other Fun Jazz

There are a lot of blogs out there that have a disclaimer up that you have to be above the age of legal consent (18) to read it. I don’t believe in warnings like that i want this blog to be able to be read by anyone and everyone that wants to. I have a lot of information on it that I wish I had an older sister to tell me as I was growing up, or eve a therapist. But I didn’t so here is the score my loves. I am going to try and moderate as best as I can but I ask you to use your discretion when it comes to reading.

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Trigger Warnings –

Occasionally you will see this writen at the top of the post. The means in no way shape or form, if you have things that trigger a bad mental health state, PTSD or anything of the like you probably should not read what it says. Believe the warning. They can cover anything from suicide to teen pregnant, self harm to suicidal ideation, cutting to eating disorders, bipolarity to borderline. Rape to other forms of sexual PTSD.

PLEASE!! If any of these thing trigger you please don’t read these posts, and if you feel the urge to then talk to someone else about them after words, even me, I would happily expand on my thoughts feeling and anything else. I truly believe that people are meant to read the truth when they are ready to hand it.

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Sex –

I have Borderline Personality Disorder with Narcissistic Tendencies. Sex will be a big part of my blog, in fact I am starting a whole page based off a book i am currently writing about sex. I am looking for contributors always and those who have different vices that their borderline brings out in them. Sex and sexual encounters is mine. I started writing a book about my encounters long ago. So a lot of my vice is in there, but all of my ultimate intimate stuff with be on a separate tab.

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Fun Jazz-

I realize when I started to write this post, I was heavily medicated from a dental procedure and I tried to reread it…but alas could not. I will be writing about my past my present and my future. I will be turning around and going into clinical definitions of diagnosis and therapies. I will be including some of my fictional works, works from contributors and places to reach out for help should you need it.

 

Also there is a tab of stuff that I have wrote from my past, some of it goes back as far as elementary and middle school, some of it as new as last year. I would be honored if you read it and let me know what you thought.

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This blog has become a place of refuge for me. A place that I can finally start my book, let the world know what I am thinking and reach out and help the people out there that don’t believe they deserve help, or don’t know where to get it.

Sparkle thoughts,

Shaye

xoxo

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Red Candle…White Rug…A tale of underage drinking and losing one’s virginity

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If it hadn’t been for that candle maybe we wouldn’t have drank that much, If we hadn’t had drank that much maybe we wouldn’t have knocked over that candle. Maybe that candle shouldn’t haven’t been lit in the first place. I am pretty sure that it was lit before we got there though. And that none of us knocked it over. I was preoccupied with you. You singing in the shower, while reaching your hand out for shots of raspberry vodka in those tiny Dixie cups used for rinsing your mouth. Every time our hands touched it was electric. Every time your eyes met mine I knew you wanted me to join you, but I just couldn’t, I wasn’t that kinda girl. I wanted to be but I didn’t know how. And you were so gorgeous. Now as the candles burn low on your 33rd birthday, your big sparkly celebration in heaven I realize it doesn’t matter anymore. I just wish I had been brave enough to kiss you on the mouth before that candle spilled and our night turned upside down. But as Lucas said in Empire Records “I don’t regret the thing I’ve done, but those I did not due”.

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I was 18 I think that year that I met you. I knew Bastion for so much longer than that, having a huge crush on his when we went to Rocky, Zero and I putting up with my hopeless crush because well I think he has a crush too. That was the great thing about having a bisexual boyfriend. Bastion had been with me through everything when we finally got close, he got me into the RKO army, I dealt with his CRAZY ex-girlfriend, he held me as I cried when we thought my uncle wasn’t going to survive his heart attack and of course there was the fact that he learned that he was too big for everyone to deep throat except me….Nyquil Bastion Nyquil. That year I spent over a thousand dollars on his for Christmas, I was so head over for him and we hadn’t even kissed, maybe petted a little and there were the blowjobs….but you know, I was just making sure he was ok (poor baby was always so sick and high on Nyquil. It makes a dandy eggnog; ^P)

Bastion always told me about the girl he loved, how they met or dated in the 8th grade, I am kinda fuzzy on the details but how it didn’t work out and she lived so far away now. He was so in love with her, I remember it drove his ex crazy. He spoke of her with this light in his eyes, this waver in her voice and told me that next time I came I would get to meet her because you know NEW YEARS! Zero and I took the trip up for New Years. The wrestlers were there, the couple we crushed on and this red head in a purple coat.  It was kinda fuzzy and out of place but it worked on her. She was gorgeous. Her hair was literally the color of fire, reds and oranges and blonds and her skin was so fair. She had these eyes that could pierce through any mask you put up and her smile, well it could me glaciers. She was a true embodiment of a pixie. She had some piercings, but they just belonged there, like metal had fused to her skin at birth and grew along with her. She was a terrible ethereal beauty. And of course it was Bastions Kat.

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After we went to Denny’s and she charmed everyone including the rowdy drunk guys in the back of the restaurant we drove her home and spent the night. We played dress up and wrestled and slept on the floor and on couches. We talked till all hours and I couldn’t tell you why but it was just home. I didn’t see her again until New Years.

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We were all going to Bastions house but Zero said he was going to be the DD and so she showed up at the house I was staying at after everyone left to shower before we left. She stripped to her panties, handed me a bottle of raspberry vodka and beckoned me to join her in the bathroom. We talked as I sat on the sink, and when shot for shot out of those little paper Dixie cups. She kept asking me to join her but even after two heavy handed screw drivers and god knows how many shots, I was still too shy about everything…..Not shy enough to not watch her towel off and get dressed however ;^D

In our New Year’s finest we headed off to Bastions where his house was empty and his carpets were still terribly white and proceeded to drink so much more. 3 couples, talking about wrestling and sex and being slightly naughty. As the ball dropped we all took a shot of Goldshloggers I made the decision that everyone had to kiss everyone else, which to the luck of my very raging hormones they did….heh….Zero and Bastion went upstairs to play video games and Kat, I and the couple were doing….I don’t even remember….The rest of the night is fuzzy…piecing together what we did remember and what we were told, Kat took my hand and pulled me up the stairs, kicked the boys out of the room and proceeded to show me exactly why women know exactly what women want. I remember the curve of her skin and the taste of her metal. I remember her fingernails digging into my back and the way her mouth her my attention. The guys broke into the room who knows how much later to find us naked and intertwined.

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I vaguely remember them dressing us and then I remember porcelain. I remember her in one room and me in another. I remember trying to get to the bathroom and walking in on Zero cheating on me. I remember being on Bastions bed with Kat, a bowl on each of our laps and a towel and his arms around both of us and us vomiting all over him. Then I remember yelling. Red candle on a white rug, the cat was blamed, we were thrown out. The least drunk people drove so slowly to JB’s house. The girl that Zero cheated on me with. Her mom took us all in, filled up water bottles. Bastion Kat and I were tucked into a bed together. Bastion holding both of us tight as the alcohol poisoning was slowly dehydration our bodies. There was a round the clock watch on us. Stuff animals were sacrificed in the process.

The morning came and went and we all parted ways. We stayed in touch, but I never saw her again. I remember her voice on the phone kept me smiling. And she tried so hard to visit when she could but something always happened when she tried *her car literally nosedived every time she tried to drive to us). I always got a message from her when I thought she had forgotten about me. And she always knew just when I needed her, even if we hadn’t spoken in over a year. And then…..She was gone. 2008 I got a call from Bastion…Kat was gone, from a disease very few knew she had. She had gone in her sleep, peacefully (or at least I hope). I kicked myself for not trying harder to get to her. To know her. To be with her. But the memories I have I treasure, the precious few.

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She gave me something that night, she gave me permission to be myself. She gave me permission to love with a part of me I never knew. She gave me part of her heart. And for that I will always be thankful.

Happy Birthday my sweet Katie Kat

I love you eternal

Shaye

Xoxo

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