Poetry: Whispers in the Dark

Whispers in the Dark

Pretty curves half hidden in shadow.

Perspiration drying on your heaving chest

Eyes heavy lidded, and satisfied

Lips parted, still panting from exertion

You are so beautiful, perfect.

Limp limps lying on our bed.

Relaxed, and ready for sleep.

Still you reach for me.

Your hoarse voice whispers love words

My own voice returns them

I look at you, and know I'm lucky

You look at me, and know I'm yours.

~ CarrieAnn Murphy

©2012 All Rights Reserved

L is for Love

A to Z blogging challenge: L


Topic: L is for Love


I want to take a moment to talk about LOVE.. I am not talking about love between a parent and child, or even love between a couple.. I am talking about SELF-LOVE, self-respect.  I am absolutely horrified that in our super connected, media saturated world, we are teaching our children (not just LGBTQ kids) to HATE themselves. We teach them that they need to conform to societies view of them physically, mentally spiritually in order to be "accepted". You need to be a certain size, wear a certain style, have a certain about of money, worship at a certain place, be as smart as a certain person.

Kids are bullied every day, often over things they have no control over. Instead of teaching our children to embrace their differences, to love themselves, to be confident in themselves we are teaching them that they need to CONFORM. We teach our children self-hatred. That's not okay.

You need to teach them to LOVE themselves because that is the MOST important relationship they will EVER EVER have.

Kids that BULLY other kids do so because THEY feel like less, not because their victims are really less. People that bully other people do so because THEY don't like themselves, because in order to feel GOOD about themselves they must TREAT other people like they are LESS. They do it to make themselves feel SUPERIOR to someone else. People that bully others, don't love themselves.

So what can we do about it? We need to SPEAK up, SPEAK out, and teach our CHILDREN to LOVE themselves. Maybe the next time you see someone bullying someone else, you take the time not only to find out if the VICTIM is okay, but take the time to find out what might be going on with the BULLY. Kids project what they are taught.. maybe we should pay closer attention in our ADULT lives, about how we might be teaching our children to act.

G is for Gorgeous (Photos)

Day 7: A to Z blogging challenge








Topic: Gorgeous

Love is beautiful. People are beautiful. Therefore, People IN love are beautiful. Doesn't matter if they are

straight:

Lesbian:

Gay:

this is one of my favorite couples, Adult Industry professionals and real couple, Austin Wilde and Anthony Romero

bi, tans ( I didn't post photos because really they would look like ANY other gay or straight couple)

Whatever you identify as, if you are in love with another person, its a beautiful thing. Love is gorgeous and wonderful, and we should be grateful to find it. Too much time is spent hung up on what might be going on in someone else's bedroom. Who cares?

anyway, nothing deep today. Just some pretty pictures. a simple message, and I am done for today. Taking tomorrow off.  Happy Holidays to those that celebrate. I'll be back on Monday with a post about Hate.

C is for Coming Out

A to Z blogging challenge  day 3:

Today's subject is Coming Out.


If you are living within the spectrum of the rainbow, then more than likely at some point you will "Come Out".  This is a very personal process that is easy for some and unbelievable terrifying and painful for others. I am probably not really qualified to speak or even really to write on this subject, as I am only "out" to some of family although ALL of my friends are aware.

For me it was more of a painful terrifying process. When I was very young I felt that the strictness of our Church wouldn't allow for me to be anything other than a "normal".. I was deeply in the closet throughout my first failed marriage... and after a majorly failed relationship, I stayed in the closet throughout my 2nd marriage.. although I did tell my husband that I was bi.

At 31, I came out to my friends as a lesbian. My straight friends, even my more religious ones were extremely supportive. The family that I did tell was supportive for the most part, although they seemed to share the opinion of some of my gay friends. That this was a "phase", and that I am not REALLY gay.

Of course they don't understand the inner struggle that I endured. They don't know why I made the decisions that I did make.

Did I CHOOSE to be gay? No, I CHOSE to stop pretending to be straight. I lived a miserable existence as a "straight" woman. I was NEVER straight.. I pretended to be in order to fit in with society's conventions.. and I hated myself everyday because I KNEW I was pretending.. 16 years from when I "figured" out that I was different, is a long time to pretend. Its a long time to choose to be someone other than myself. And that is a lot of self hatred. In my opinion no one CHOOSES who they are attracted to. It just is. You love who you love.

Its not about sex. Its about seeking out that soul that will complete me. Its about trying to find that PERSON that I want to spend the rest of my life with.

So.. Coming out is a PROCESS, its about trying to reach that place where we can be who we are without hiding and lying and feeling ashamed. Its about trying to find our place within our families, and our communities without the blanket of fear covering us. This process is different for everyone, and even for those that its easier for, its still difficult to live in a world where we lack the civil rights to be able to fight back against discrimination.

So yeah that is what I have to say about Coming out.

Fiction: Someone to Watch Over Me Part 3

Jaxx never made it to Germany. The Commander called and notified him that Javier would be transported to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center as soon as he was stable enough. He'd had to undergo surgery to remove as much of the shrapnel in his torso as possible. Jaxx tried to tune out all the medical knowledge he'd gained over the years. He wasn't a nurse here. He was a loved one waiting for news, just like everyone else. It made it worse to know the medical implications of everything. The flare of hope was dimmed by the suffocation of reality. 

For days, he had plenty of time to think while waiting in the room at the Naval Lodge for Javier to arrive from Germany. He thought of all the things unsaid between him and Javier. All the covert looks, and the steamy emails they sent to each other.Not to mention the “old friend” staying over visits. Over the last 4 years, since he'd left the military, they'd become close. Jaxx knew Javier was IT for him. He was the ONE. Javier wasn't there yet, and with the military being the way that it was, he wasn't sure that Javier would ever be in the same head space. It seemed pretty shitty that he'd have to wait another six years to really be with the man he loved. The man, if he was honest with himself, that he'd been in love with for the last 14 years.He just wanted to see him. He just wanted to tell him how much he meant. He couldn't lose him, not now.

No amount of preparation could have truly prepared him for what met him at the hospital. He barely recognized his friend. Under layers of bandages, Javier's pain glazed eyes blinked up at him. Javier's mouth pulled into a semblance of a smile, despite his obvious discomfort.

“So Jesus, I have to get blown up, for you to visit?”

Jaxx frowned, “Jesus?”

Javier let out a coughing laugh, followed by a groan, “the hair. You look like Jesus. Good thing I'm not closer to dead, that might be enough to send me over.” The talking caused Javier to start coughing again, bringing Jaxx to his side to clasp an undamaged hand. Carefully Jaxx brushed the tears off of Javier's face. “If you wanted to see me, you just had to say so. You didn't have to go to so much trouble to get me here.”

By this time, Jaxx could feel his own tears leaking down his face. He wanted to bury his head in Javier's neck and hold him close, but he couldn't. He feared hurting him. Javier's hand tightened around his. “Shhh. I'm lucky. It will be okay, querido.”

At that moment a nurse came in and pursed her lips at the men. “I'm sorry, sir, but we need to run some tests, so you'll have to leave. May I ask what your relationship to Sgt First Class, Jimenez is?”

Jaxx's back stiffened and he was about to snarl at the nurse when Javier squeezed his hand harder, and said, to both Jaxx and the nurses surprise, “He's my partner. He has my medical power of attorney.” Jaxx lifted an eyebrow at Javier, that indicated they'd be discussing this later. Then he leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss over Javier's battered face, before letting Javier's hand go, and stepping outside the room.

Letting Go.

I originally intended this blog for only my writing. But its difficult to separate the blog writer, from the person.

Who am I?
A year ago I would have told you that I was an Army wife (first and foremost) and a mother. I would have totally left out anything really having to do with ME as a person.

The theme over the last year has been change.
Last February 10th, we buried one of the most important people in my life. My Grandmother. She was such a big part of my life growing up. She taught me a lot about love, and a lot about hate and intolerance. She was Roman Catholic. Strict, but fun too. I used to try to wake up before her, but no matter how early I got up she was already seated at the kitchen table, coffee and cigarette in hand. I remember her painting my nails when I was little, and I remember the two of us sitting across the living room reading when I was in high school. For me, in some respects, she was a safe place to run to. But she didn't care for "niggers". (( I HATE HATE HATE that word, and after an impassioned speech about it she refrained from using it)) She was very intolerant of different, and change, and to a teenager who idolized her grandmother that was absolutely terrifying. I didn't want to disappoint her. I wanted her to be proud of me. Fear of that one thing kept me silent for a long time.

Being a lesbian was unacceptable.

So I dated boys. I "pretended". I was the "good kid". The one who did the right thing most of the time. I told everyone that I was NEVER getting married, and NEVER having children. I was joining the military, and eventually I would be an officer, and that would be my life, and that would be ENOUGH. My senior year, I was voted most likely to become an actress, they didn't know that I already was.

Well due to injury, the Navy didn't work out. By 19, I was living back at home, and an alcoholic. By 20, I'd had enough of living at home, and I married my first husband, who was one of my best friends. He is a great great guy, and I loved him, but not the way that I should have. He was my friend, and I adored him, but not enough to make a life with him. By 23, still an alcoholic, I was divorced and once again living at home with my parents.

Then I met HER. The girl I fell in love with. In the end, she was too afraid to be anything but the "good girl", and for the most part our closet doors stayed intact. The only good thing to come out of it all is that I was done drinking. So at 24, definitely on the rebound, and hearing a lot from my parents and grandmother about getting married and having babies, I met B. B was a little younger than me, had a sweet country boy attitude and looked pretty good in his Army uniform. Soooo innocent. And I thought to myself. I can do THIS. I can make THIS work. (I'm not sure if I was just in denial about myself, or completely out of my effing mind) If I can't be IN the military, I'll marry it.

In 2005, I got pregnant, and then married. I can't say that it was a bad marriage, at least at first. I can even for the most part remember being happy. I'm not sure if I was happy with B, or just in love with being a mom. We went on to have 2 more children. (total 3), and through deployments and moves, cheating (his), and just generally a lot of miserably trying to hold it all together.

Bringing us to 2011. We got the call that my grandmother was dying. My dad, my mother and I  rented a car and headed from Missouri to Texas, in the blizzard that stretched all through Arkansas. When we arrived in Texas, my grandmother had actually seemed to have improved. My mother spent the night with her, and then the next day we all went to see her along with aunts and cousins ect. She had a great day of lucidity, talking about old memories, looking at photos of my children. It was a good day. As we were all leaving, promising to see her the next day, I happened to be the last one out of the room. As I hugged her goodbye, she whispered for me to make Myself happy. To be who I am, regardless of what anyone else thought.  At THAT moment I thought it was a little overdramatic, and I brushed it off. The next morning we arrived at the hospital, and my Grandmother was mid-stroke. Late that night she passed away. She gave me back a piece of myself that I didnt'

A year ago we put her in the ground. A lot has changed, and continues to. My grandmother's words tumbled around in my head for quite awhile before I had the courage to do anything about them. In September, I asked my husband of 6 years for a divorce. I told him why. Amazingly he has been super cool about everything. It has lightened our relationship, because we are no longer burdened with trying to make something so so broken work. The truth was, that no MAN was ever going to make me happy. Even if he were the perfect HUSBAND it still would have fallen apart. Did I love him? Yes. I won't or can't explain how or why or whatever.. but I did love him very much. However, it didn't work out, and life moves on whether we are ready or not. I had come to the conclusion of How was I ever supposed to be happy with someone if I continued to shop the wrong department.

Most of my friends and family members know.. kinda anticlimactic, as most of them claimed they already "knew". Spoilsports. My in-laws do not know. All they know is that when B gets back from Afghanistan, we are divorcing. that is a southern baptist holy-rollercoaster, I don't even want to be there for! So looking forward there are challenges and hurdles to be overcome, not the least of which is the whole new world that my children will find themselves in if I ever DO decide to date. But despite all the challenges ahead, I look forward to being able to BE ME, without having to hide something that is integral to my make up.

CarrieAnn M.

Fiction: Someone to Watch Over Me Part 2

2012

Jaxx raised a hand to the flight crew as he headed off of his 24 hour shift. After getting out of the military, he put his RN certification to use, and decided to pursue the civilian training to do pretty much the same job that he did in the military, a flight nurse. It was a little different on the civilian side, as he seen more pediatric patients then he ever did in the military.

Jaxx reached his jeep and flung his bag into the passenger seat, as he slid his weary body behind the wheel. Now he just had to make it the 25 minute drive home, and he could start his 3 days off. It had been a relatively quiet shift, a few transports, but nothing that was overly involved. He took a minute to rest his head against the steering wheel before poking the keys into the ignition and starting the Jeep. He was just about to pull out of the lot, when his phone started ringing. Not being one to take chances and talk on the phone while driving, he put the jeep back into park, before checking the caller ID. A grin sliced across his face, as he answered the call.

“hey buddy! Hows the mountains treatin ya?”

“Jaxx?” the whispered voice on the phone waivered, as if threatening to crack.

“Mac? What's wrong?” Jaxx was instantly alert, his hand gripping the phone, as if it could connect him with his friend.

Mac took a ragged breath, and said, “We were hit bad. Javier...” Mac's voice broke, and Jaxx could hear his friend struggling for control.

Jaxx closed his eyes, and took a deep breath of his own, knowing that he had to hold it together. The world around him shrunk to the confines of the jeep, everything else faded. “How bad, Mac? He's got to be alive, otherwise you'd be on a blackout. How bad is it?”

Jaxx, reminding him that their friend was still alive seemed to shake Mac out of his grief, “Its bad. An IED hit our convoy. Hit Javier's hum-v. He would have been ok, but once he started pulling guys out, another one detonated near him. He took a lot of shrapnel to his back. I'm not sure if he'll keep his legs. They said as soon as he stablizes they'll send him on to Germany. This is all unofficial, the commander should be calling you soon with official word.”

Jaxx was trying to process everything, but the only thing that proccessed immediately was the last part. “Why the fuck would the Commander be calling me?”

Mac sucked in a breath, “Javier didnt tell you? You are his will as being his next of kin.”

That revelation made Jaxx swallow hard, as he heard a beep signalling he had another incoming call. “I think that might be the Commander now. Um, thanks Mac for calling me and telling me. Keep your head and ass down. Stay safe.”

Mac uttered a quick, “Will do.” and ended the call, freeing Jaxx to answer the incoming call.

“Ajaxx Papalakis, can I help you?”

The Commander quickly introduced himself and went on to explain the situation with Javier, which pretty much mirrored the explanation Mac gave. Jaxx knew that asking medically pertinent questions would probably be lost on the officer, so he didnt bother. “When is Sgt. First Class Jimenez going to be transferred to Germany and what is the protocol for me being able to meet him there?”

After Jaxx had gotten all the information he needed, he ended the call and for long moments just looked at the phone in his hand. The wall paper a photo of Mac and Javier that they'd sent a couple of weeks ago from somewhere in afghanistan. “Fuck!” He slammed his free hand against the steering wheel and began to shake, great heaving sobs working their way up from some unknown place. He cried for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few minutes. Wiping his eyes, he turned off the Jeep, and headed back inside work to request time off. Javier needed him, and that was all that mattered, sleep could wait.

Poetry: I loved her

I loved her


I loved her once.
With all the fiery passion my body could hold.
I hated her once.
With all the cold fury of a love betrayed.
Love wasn’t enough to hold us together.
Tears were enough to keep us apart.
Sometimes I can still smell her perfume,
Though many years have passed since then.
Sometimes, my arms can still feel her,
Even though I know she’s being held by another.
How can I move on when her phantom haunts me?
Ten years later the emotions are still fresh and new.
Sometimes all I want to do is pick up the phone,
Just so I can hear her accented voice roll over me.
I stop myself, knowing that its over.
I loved her once.
I love her still.
© CarrieAnn Murphy 2011 All Rights Reserved

authors note: True story, but at the end of the day, if you asked whether I would go back and do it again knowing what I know now. Absolutely. I don't regret anything. Tis better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all. (timeline in reference to 10 years is a little off, but other wise 100% accurate)