An Ordinary Me

I put “Key Largo” on for Dad, he loves Humphrey Bogart. It is a really good movie, such wonderful performances by Bacall, Edward G., and Humphrey, as well as the supporting cast. I must have watched it 10 times so far, but it keeps Dad quiet and in one place.

I’ve been pondering things, in a melancholy way. Maybe because I am remembering my Mom today, and missing her, and I don’t even observe holidays. The last post I wrote, where I blame my Mom for the abortion I had, well, it’s pretty lame to put it all on her. She did not take me there at gunpoint. I went willingly.

And Mom did what she believed was the best course, to save me from terrible consequences. She had so much anguish inside her from her teenage pregnancy, so much angst from the years under her puritan mother’s thumb.That was why she feared the consequences so much. I understand.

I say words. And then they are out there and I can’t really take them back. I don’t know if I should take them back- it was how I felt, then. I always believed that art knows no bounds, that our feelings are the same-let it out-let it go. Put it outside myself, on a page or a canvas, where I can examine it, this way and that, until I understand why I felt compelled to say or paint it.

Many people believe that one should not write embarrassing things, but the things that I have experienced don’t embarrass me. I believe we all have lessons that can help others through our life experiences. Maybe if you can live my life vicariously, then you don’t have to feel the pain for real in your own life. Or ,perhaps a good experience will make someone push past their inhibitions and free their mind.

I used to have this magical thinking going on, and maybe I still do- that I was this great artist who could paint as good as anyone of the masters, but I just never applied myself. No, I never applied myself to any of my endeavors- except my pool playing. I would practice six plus hours a day on that, and I really believed I would be famous at that also- but I never even won one tournament. There was always a reason why I didn’t win. Everything except the fact that the others  played better than me. I never would admit that I was out played, just plain beaten.


I am so exhausted right now, so I must sign off. I have nothing profound to say. I am just a regular person with a life of modest surroundings, a warm heart,and the belief that God knows everything, and I do not.

That is enough.

Author: ST Martin

I am an Artist, Poet and Author. A Survivor of Violent Sexual Abuse and Rape, I have lived thru Severe Domestic Violence, Twenty Three years of Addiction and Alcoholism, Family Dysfunction, Chronic Pain, Dependence on Opioids, and 2 Venomous Snake Bites...I have Been Stabbed, Shot at, Tied to a Tree and Choked Unconscious. A Quarter Horse Rolled on Me, as did a Lawn Tractor. I also Wrecked a Harley into a Tree! I also have PTSD and Rapid Cycling Bipolar Disorder, and spent my 18th birthday in a Locked Psychiatric Ward. I am so much more than this: I feel like a tiny seed that sprouted in a desert, and now has grown into a Passion Vine. My Art is my Voice, Screaming, Crying, Praying, Loving, Laughing, Healing- all in Riotous Color...

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