Be Forewarned, I am a Fey and Quixotic Creative Writer

Be Forewarned, I am a Fey and Quixotic Creative Writer
And in the End was the Word, Amy's Word

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Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Nobody Loves No One

I gave birth to my son in 1983.  His first visit to the Dr. involved meeting a new pediatrician.  I became enamored with the pediatrician over the years.  He was aware and we would flirt a bit.  I wound up writing letters to him. I never professed anything. Eventually it got strange and I had enough of the flirting.  I did not love my husband and I had never experienced any relations with strong emotions.  I will admit, I wanted to commit adultery.   I was enamored with him for about 10 years.  I know it was wrong to flirt in front of my kids.  I was lonely. But that is a poor excuse.  I was determined that I could trust him, even though the signs pointed to not trust.

I have this strange memory/dream of having met him in a diner.  Now that I know the score and how the multiple personality works I think I saw him in an "alter" personality at a diner.  For entertainment value for the nefarious organization, if I am in love in one personality it makes sense for the other personality to experience the sex. (not at the diner of course!) The one personality is starved for love and the other gets it and the first one does not even know...all in the same body.  I don't know if I had a romantic liaison with the pediatrician.  This organization was spying and listening to me.  They want entertainment.  My bet is that I did as Marlene or Maggie Mae meet him.  I don't know if he knew that I knew nothing of it in my base personality. He was probably in on it. I would bet my suffering brings accolades among the members of the secret society.

One time when I was tripping in a pseudo-bipolar episode I said to him,  "This synchonicity gives me megalomania". There were things that were happening like a coincidence which made me feel as though I was more than human. I brought him a bottle of wine as a gift and he was pulling out of the driveway just as I drove up to his house at 8:30 am.  I was wearing a J crew pleated wool skirt and this cute black beret.  The wine was a mead, a sweet red called, "Eye of the Bee."  It was organic wine.

Interestingly, one year, I went to the Penn Yan Arts council to make dolls with my mother.  We made St. Nicolas dolls, (this man's name is a derivation of Nicholas)  No matter how I tried to change the expression on the doll's face, (sculpy) it kept looking like Freddy Kruger.(Character that kills women and children in a horror film.)  Nicholas, Do you know the meaning of the name Ol' Nic?  This guy was the devil in my life for a long time.  His voice is like silk.

There were times when I thought that he was flirting with me in order to psychologically torture me.   "A wicked game," so to speak.


Now, this is interesting.  When I was in a pseudo mania episode in 2004 I gave left on his doorstep a scrapbook (a proto type of one I pulled off later)  I was in the hospital and a doctor said, that is your art, get it back.  I called him and the police responded.  He said he no longer had the scrapbook*.  That was when I realized that there was a secret organization behind my suffering.  But it did not register fully.




                                  

*I have started a blog to put up the scrap book baby girl .  I realize that the baby girl blog is rife with narcissism.

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