March 26, 2013;
So, I'm in my doctorate program for forensic psychology, my last year getting ready to work on my dissertation. All these years of school, I started going because I needed to learn bookkeeping for my job. Two years later I brought the computers into the office and changed the entire system. I worked there eight years and had a blast, but alas I got bored. Then I started doing home daycare (what was I thinking). I enjoyed it, started going to community college child development classes, opened a day care center and practically worked myself to death. Bad employees, bad parents, a church that didn't want a bunch of kids running around (this was after the pastor had begged me to bring it to the church since all the classrooms were empty and going to waste) eight years later I closed and went home exhausted. In the interim I got my associates in child development which I found out was not transferrable, so I turned around and got my associates of arts so I could quite possibly continue.
In October I got a phone call from a university that a friend had referred my name to, one hour later I was enrolled in my bachelors in social sciences and education. I went to work for a friend of mine when her bookkeeper died unexpectedly (wierd). I had set up their bookkeeping system nine years earlier and they were still doing the same thing. I finished my bachelors, then I decided to go ahead and try my masters after all, I really wasn't doing anything, I wasn't married, my kids were grown so why not? I chose psychology and two years later it was done. Bill Clinton spoke at my commencement, it was wonderful, I didn't attend (oh that was funny). I watched it over the internet, had drinks with friends and enjoyed his speech, that was enough for me.
Then my phd (really?) and what major? clinical? forenisc? counseling? I had no idea except given my age although I wanted clinical, it was much longer so I opted for forensic. Really good reason for choosing your phd concentration. Kinda like enee meenie minie moe uuuuuhh that one. I figured if I failed at least I gave it my best shot, or a shot or something like that.
Now I'm almost finished and I started blogging and of course like everyone else I have a facebook. But blogging has brought me to wonderful food sites, desserts, ontrees, main courses, appetizers. All beautifully photographed and displayed with wonderful detailed instructions. And now you can take your laptop or your ipad into the kitchen pull up the recipe and bake or cook. I'm in heaven. Why do I have to do homework anyway, I have enough education I want to cook. No I'll finish one thing I am if I am anything, very money conscious, the value of a dollar, my investment, thrifty, I've put too much into this I will have the paper on my dresser in the leather certificate holder. I will have 4 of them, they collect dust, noone even knows whats in them.
I can answer many questions, I counsel with, talk to, listen to many people, by the way I do not want to do any counseling. I'm approaching the local hospital board to implement an emergency mental health team within the emergency room. We live in a rural community where mental health care is scant at best. I want to effect changes within this area. Meanwhile, I want to bake some chocolate turtle cupcakes yummmmm.
Is it possible I'm ADD? Or do I have a well rounded scope of interests? Are crazy people crazy? Are hallucinations real? Are the voices schizophrenics hear quite possibly there in a dimension of reality that other people don't have access to?
Who knows, I wanna make cupcakes.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
March 22, 2013;
Whoever said that you are done with parenting when the children turn 18, or 25 or even 30 lied. Having three daughters has been the most difficult thing I have ever experienced and no, it has not been the most rewarding, my grandchldren are but my daughters have almost killed me on several occasions with the decisions they insist on making.
Today, my oldest, who works fulltime in a doctor's office, got into a verbal argument with my youngest over the phone because she couldn't get ahold of her at all yesterday. Mind you, she lives with her, sat with her last night and smoked a cigarette, got up and spoke with her this morning, but somehow explained to me that she hadn't seen her at all, couldn't get her bank card from her and now some of her pain pills were missing. Well that makes perfect sense, IF YOU"RE INSANE!
So her solution is to call me and explain that her younger sister had gone down to the doctor's office and said that the oldest was a pill poppin addict and that she had accused her of using her medi-cal to get her pills and that she was out of her mind, and now (as she's telling me this) her boss was ready to walk her out of the office and fire her. So.......she wanted me to call her and kick her out of the house, she didn't want her there anymore.
Ok, there's a couple of things wrong with this whole thing. 1) its my house and you want to me to kick her out of my house because you don't want her there anymore (I see). 2) Her sister hadn't been down there, and 3) I'm at work don't call me, I don't care.
So I call the youngest who explained that she hadn't been down there, that she had not stolen any of her medications and that her sister should quit asking her to go into her meds and dish them out to her, oh and by the way her bank card is on her dresser.
What I find interesting about all of this is none of it would have occurred if the oldest would take control over her own life, take her own pills, pay her own bills and leave people alone. The other side of this is if the youngest would learn to say no, it still would not have happened.
The thing that bothers me the most is the age of the oldest, there is no learning disability or mental abnormality, however, there is a serious co-dependent problem and the need to make someone else responsible for her problems. She spent sixteen years married to a drug addict where she got to yell and scream, make run errands and make any demands on him she wanted because afterall, he was a screw up and didn't deserve to be treated any better than that since he was a drug addict who took money out of the checking account. Now she knew he took money, and yet she never tried to hide it, she just let him, afterall, if she let him then he was a screw up that did drugs and she got to order him around and treat him like a loser.
Interesting. Unfortunately, this type of treatment doesn't ordinarily work on sober people. You can try it, they might help you for a while, you might even get to throw a couple of trantrums before they finally blow up on you. However, there is no guilt, there's no way to continue extorting the desired behavior, which in this case is slavery because the person isn't doing anything wrong that allows you to do it. So you look for small stuff i.e., you didn't give me back my card, I tried to get it from you and you didn't do it, or you used all the gas in the car (now she got the money back but not directly from her little sister) now it's empty and it's your fault.
How did this warped behavior come into fruition? Well, she was married to a drug addict and at first it's pretty horrible, and you can't make him quit so if he's not gonna quit, you adapt. Hmm, he seems to have a guilt complex so....you learn to work it. You're still not happy, you still have all the other characteristics of a co-dependent, but you've made it work for you, nice.
So at least you get something out of it afterall, you are paying for it.
It didn't last, you treat someone like that that way long enough and they will turn on you, and he did.
Whoever said that you are done with parenting when the children turn 18, or 25 or even 30 lied. Having three daughters has been the most difficult thing I have ever experienced and no, it has not been the most rewarding, my grandchldren are but my daughters have almost killed me on several occasions with the decisions they insist on making.
Today, my oldest, who works fulltime in a doctor's office, got into a verbal argument with my youngest over the phone because she couldn't get ahold of her at all yesterday. Mind you, she lives with her, sat with her last night and smoked a cigarette, got up and spoke with her this morning, but somehow explained to me that she hadn't seen her at all, couldn't get her bank card from her and now some of her pain pills were missing. Well that makes perfect sense, IF YOU"RE INSANE!
So her solution is to call me and explain that her younger sister had gone down to the doctor's office and said that the oldest was a pill poppin addict and that she had accused her of using her medi-cal to get her pills and that she was out of her mind, and now (as she's telling me this) her boss was ready to walk her out of the office and fire her. So.......she wanted me to call her and kick her out of the house, she didn't want her there anymore.
Ok, there's a couple of things wrong with this whole thing. 1) its my house and you want to me to kick her out of my house because you don't want her there anymore (I see). 2) Her sister hadn't been down there, and 3) I'm at work don't call me, I don't care.
So I call the youngest who explained that she hadn't been down there, that she had not stolen any of her medications and that her sister should quit asking her to go into her meds and dish them out to her, oh and by the way her bank card is on her dresser.
What I find interesting about all of this is none of it would have occurred if the oldest would take control over her own life, take her own pills, pay her own bills and leave people alone. The other side of this is if the youngest would learn to say no, it still would not have happened.
The thing that bothers me the most is the age of the oldest, there is no learning disability or mental abnormality, however, there is a serious co-dependent problem and the need to make someone else responsible for her problems. She spent sixteen years married to a drug addict where she got to yell and scream, make run errands and make any demands on him she wanted because afterall, he was a screw up and didn't deserve to be treated any better than that since he was a drug addict who took money out of the checking account. Now she knew he took money, and yet she never tried to hide it, she just let him, afterall, if she let him then he was a screw up that did drugs and she got to order him around and treat him like a loser.
Interesting. Unfortunately, this type of treatment doesn't ordinarily work on sober people. You can try it, they might help you for a while, you might even get to throw a couple of trantrums before they finally blow up on you. However, there is no guilt, there's no way to continue extorting the desired behavior, which in this case is slavery because the person isn't doing anything wrong that allows you to do it. So you look for small stuff i.e., you didn't give me back my card, I tried to get it from you and you didn't do it, or you used all the gas in the car (now she got the money back but not directly from her little sister) now it's empty and it's your fault.
How did this warped behavior come into fruition? Well, she was married to a drug addict and at first it's pretty horrible, and you can't make him quit so if he's not gonna quit, you adapt. Hmm, he seems to have a guilt complex so....you learn to work it. You're still not happy, you still have all the other characteristics of a co-dependent, but you've made it work for you, nice.
So at least you get something out of it afterall, you are paying for it.
It didn't last, you treat someone like that that way long enough and they will turn on you, and he did.
Thursday, March 21, 2013
March, 21, 2013
I read a saying from Bob Marley today "If she's amazing she won't be easy. If she's easy she won't be amazing. If she's worth it, you won't give up. If you give up you're not worthy...Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the one's worth suffering for" Bob Marley.
I always wondered about being too difficult, expecting excellence from myself and the person I will be with in character, intelligence and heart. I don't feel that way anymore and anyone that can't step up should step aside and that's okay there is only one person that needs to be able to hit the ball out of the park, it's not something everyone can do and it's not a job everyone wants, it takes expertise that not everyone has.
The problem is that it takes a while of watching someone live their life before you begin to see their character unfold. Kinks in the armour, serious character flaws that are supposedly well hidden. Those are the things that will cause your heart to turn away with time such as a lack of drive or ambition, lack of integrity, laziness, a lack of honesty and fortitude. One of the worst I believe is the inability to see things through, to make excuses and quit on projects once the shine has worn off.
One of the most honorable things in a man is the work ethic. Work. How hard is it to work. Earn an honest living and work every day. Don't make up excuses of why you can't work or you need time off or you just can't handle it...........A good woman hates a whiner, waaaaah, waaaaaah, waaaaaah, I'm so miserable, unhappy waaaaaaah, babies do that, but a man? Is this the same man that will want you to get all hot and bothered over him? Really? Are you serious.
If you're life is so out of control and you are so miserable then change it. If you are not going to change it shut up. If you can't steer the course of your own life don't stick your oar into someone elses and try to steer theirs. Really?
I learned an important lesson, knowing someone like this is draining and boring and saying goodbye is the best medicine because they are not going to grow up, they are going to use you as some type of empty container they can dump all of their trash into and then walk away until they need you the next time around.
Even if they want to stick around
RUN they are unworthy.
I read a saying from Bob Marley today "If she's amazing she won't be easy. If she's easy she won't be amazing. If she's worth it, you won't give up. If you give up you're not worthy...Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the one's worth suffering for" Bob Marley.
I always wondered about being too difficult, expecting excellence from myself and the person I will be with in character, intelligence and heart. I don't feel that way anymore and anyone that can't step up should step aside and that's okay there is only one person that needs to be able to hit the ball out of the park, it's not something everyone can do and it's not a job everyone wants, it takes expertise that not everyone has.
The problem is that it takes a while of watching someone live their life before you begin to see their character unfold. Kinks in the armour, serious character flaws that are supposedly well hidden. Those are the things that will cause your heart to turn away with time such as a lack of drive or ambition, lack of integrity, laziness, a lack of honesty and fortitude. One of the worst I believe is the inability to see things through, to make excuses and quit on projects once the shine has worn off.
One of the most honorable things in a man is the work ethic. Work. How hard is it to work. Earn an honest living and work every day. Don't make up excuses of why you can't work or you need time off or you just can't handle it...........A good woman hates a whiner, waaaaah, waaaaaah, waaaaaah, I'm so miserable, unhappy waaaaaaah, babies do that, but a man? Is this the same man that will want you to get all hot and bothered over him? Really? Are you serious.
If you're life is so out of control and you are so miserable then change it. If you are not going to change it shut up. If you can't steer the course of your own life don't stick your oar into someone elses and try to steer theirs. Really?
I learned an important lesson, knowing someone like this is draining and boring and saying goodbye is the best medicine because they are not going to grow up, they are going to use you as some type of empty container they can dump all of their trash into and then walk away until they need you the next time around.
Even if they want to stick around
RUN they are unworthy.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
March 20, 2013
What a wonderful day, the sun was shining, my attitude was good, work looked as though it was going to be relatively easy and then I had plans of going home to continuing homework. Or so I thought.........
Then apparently the bell rang in my schizophrenic child's brain and she decided to text me for 2 1/2 hours straight. I had heard the phrase before "man, she's blowing up my phone" but I really didn't know what it meant until today. Now I understand why people turn their phones off or throw them through plate glass windows.
Funny thing is when she came over in the morning everything was fine. She was fine, her kids were fine, today was payday (the light should always go off when you hear that but it didn't this time).
Parents of adult children with schizophrenia are victims to outbursts like this all the time. Never quite sure when it will rear its ugly head, there is always this awareness that with the flip of a switch a new personality will come out and spew multiple kinds of anger and hatred at you. It's very similar to an episode of the exorcism, people always think thats so scarey and OMG she pukes green vomit everywhere, and the way she looks at the people and the hatred and evil that spew from their mouths, yea its like that. The sad part is that there is a part of the parent that plays the blame game and the other part that says "well its a disorder and this is what they do, itll be over in a few minutes or a few days or after another ambulance ride to the mental health hospital (oh gee how I long for one of those episodes)".
NO and I say again, NO, I have news for you they know what they are doing and they will predictably do it to the parents because the parents are the only ones that will put up with it and why do you suppose they are willing to do that? Because they (we) feel guilty that they have to deal with the disorder at all. They got the disorder by no fault of their own, it is passed down, it is within the genetic framework and any number of things can trigger it off and it usually occurs in early adulthood. There are cases where it goes as mysteriously as it came. However, there are other cases in which it comes and stays and deteriorates the brain slowly through the years if allowed. My daughter suffered severe brain trauma in a car accident, it was horrible and this was the end result.
Regardless, in this life we all have things we have to deal with, this is theirs to deal with and in a sense it is ours to make them deal appropriately with it (as much as is possible). If you pay close attention they normally do not spew off on just anyone its those closest to them. As parents we have a choice to put them in check, ensure they are getting the help they need, and to be completely honest it's our job to monitor their behavior because we don't want others to be victim to their anger or rage. We should never hide them from society, lie for them, deceive them, or make excuses for them. We are to help them deal with it in an open way, address the tough issues and when necessary fight with them to get the help they need, for them to ensure they get the help they need and walk through it with them making sure noone else becomes a casualty of the disorder.
Last of all, pray because it works, I've seen it.
What a wonderful day, the sun was shining, my attitude was good, work looked as though it was going to be relatively easy and then I had plans of going home to continuing homework. Or so I thought.........
Then apparently the bell rang in my schizophrenic child's brain and she decided to text me for 2 1/2 hours straight. I had heard the phrase before "man, she's blowing up my phone" but I really didn't know what it meant until today. Now I understand why people turn their phones off or throw them through plate glass windows.
Funny thing is when she came over in the morning everything was fine. She was fine, her kids were fine, today was payday (the light should always go off when you hear that but it didn't this time).
Parents of adult children with schizophrenia are victims to outbursts like this all the time. Never quite sure when it will rear its ugly head, there is always this awareness that with the flip of a switch a new personality will come out and spew multiple kinds of anger and hatred at you. It's very similar to an episode of the exorcism, people always think thats so scarey and OMG she pukes green vomit everywhere, and the way she looks at the people and the hatred and evil that spew from their mouths, yea its like that. The sad part is that there is a part of the parent that plays the blame game and the other part that says "well its a disorder and this is what they do, itll be over in a few minutes or a few days or after another ambulance ride to the mental health hospital (oh gee how I long for one of those episodes)".
NO and I say again, NO, I have news for you they know what they are doing and they will predictably do it to the parents because the parents are the only ones that will put up with it and why do you suppose they are willing to do that? Because they (we) feel guilty that they have to deal with the disorder at all. They got the disorder by no fault of their own, it is passed down, it is within the genetic framework and any number of things can trigger it off and it usually occurs in early adulthood. There are cases where it goes as mysteriously as it came. However, there are other cases in which it comes and stays and deteriorates the brain slowly through the years if allowed. My daughter suffered severe brain trauma in a car accident, it was horrible and this was the end result.
Regardless, in this life we all have things we have to deal with, this is theirs to deal with and in a sense it is ours to make them deal appropriately with it (as much as is possible). If you pay close attention they normally do not spew off on just anyone its those closest to them. As parents we have a choice to put them in check, ensure they are getting the help they need, and to be completely honest it's our job to monitor their behavior because we don't want others to be victim to their anger or rage. We should never hide them from society, lie for them, deceive them, or make excuses for them. We are to help them deal with it in an open way, address the tough issues and when necessary fight with them to get the help they need, for them to ensure they get the help they need and walk through it with them making sure noone else becomes a casualty of the disorder.
Last of all, pray because it works, I've seen it.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
March 19, 2013
Have you ever had arguments with yourself? Have you ever gone days, weeks, months maybe even years feeling stressed out like you've been fighting with someone, you're not married, your adult children make you crazy, you don't argue with them, you wonder why they make the decisions they do, but you don't argue.
You're completely stressed out, tense, read every self help book published, read the Bible, pray and yet you feel this tenseness within you and then finally, one day you start to listen to yourself and there's a murmuring and muttering inside you. What is this? It's all negative judgemental unhappy stuff that you know you are not supposed to say, as a matter of fact you know it so well that you have actually spent years blocking it out of your range of hearing.
And yet it goes on in your mind, stuff like "I can't believe she does that, it's so annoying" "How can anyone be that incredibly stupid?" "What do you mean you don't know why they're mad at you, are you serious?" "Oh my God, he's such an idiot, how does someone like that live?" "Why am I so fat?" "Why do other women have men who love them, why not me, whats wrong with me?" Maybe they hear those arguments inside me and don't want to interfere.
Mutterings that go on and on continually spinning in your head, chants of failure, depression, feelings of being unloved and unworthy. Where did all of this come from and why didn't I realize this incessant conversation had been going on for years. Then I watch my mother, my 75 year old miserable hateful mother walk through the house and verbally muttering hateful stuff so everyone can hear her for hours. From a mother to her daughter passed down like a venereal disease that grows silently for years just festering inside the soul.
Why? And why have I kept it quashed down inside me? I knew better than to let it out it disgusting and hateful. So I walk around with this things crouching down inside me like a toad or better yet hanging on my ear whispering negative garbage that has caused me to be sad because sometimes it wins. All the things it says are aimed at destroying my soul. So I learned unconsiously to argue with it. "Why are you talking like this you know it's wrong" "Whats wrong with you?" "You need to stop, seriously that's disgusting" "And you think you're so good, really?" Actually it's not helpful. Pretty soon I'll be duking it out with myself.
Now, if you tell a doctor about these arguments and how you know its wrong, he'll diagnose you with some disorder. It's easier than saying everybody does this to an extent, what extent? I'm not sure. And why are you arguing, are you really criticizing others or is it really aimed at yourself, your doing everything the way everyone expects you to, your following all the rules, your not doing anything wrong, actually your're not doing anything period. But that's not good enough, because if you want to be good enough to be loved you must be better "live up to your potential!" What potential, potential for what, noone told me what it was. Be happy, you should focus on being happy, what does that mean, to be happy. I think I watch everyone else be happy, or at least tell me they are and then tell me what I need to do to be as happy as they are (they don't look happy to me).
Then, you tell them what makes you happy, what things you want to do, and they tell you that's not what you should do, that's ridiculous, this is what you should do, it's in you, you're not fulfilling your destiny if you don't do those things and if you don't do them I won't love you.
Did you ever? I don't think so.
Before, everyone started telling me what I needed to do and how I needed to live, that I needed to get married and have children, that I needed to get a phd, I thought I was good enough, I was happy. I liked me, I still like me, God likes me.
My brother told me once "you're one of those people, live and let live", I said "yea, why not?"
Why not?
Have you ever had arguments with yourself? Have you ever gone days, weeks, months maybe even years feeling stressed out like you've been fighting with someone, you're not married, your adult children make you crazy, you don't argue with them, you wonder why they make the decisions they do, but you don't argue.
You're completely stressed out, tense, read every self help book published, read the Bible, pray and yet you feel this tenseness within you and then finally, one day you start to listen to yourself and there's a murmuring and muttering inside you. What is this? It's all negative judgemental unhappy stuff that you know you are not supposed to say, as a matter of fact you know it so well that you have actually spent years blocking it out of your range of hearing.
And yet it goes on in your mind, stuff like "I can't believe she does that, it's so annoying" "How can anyone be that incredibly stupid?" "What do you mean you don't know why they're mad at you, are you serious?" "Oh my God, he's such an idiot, how does someone like that live?" "Why am I so fat?" "Why do other women have men who love them, why not me, whats wrong with me?" Maybe they hear those arguments inside me and don't want to interfere.
Mutterings that go on and on continually spinning in your head, chants of failure, depression, feelings of being unloved and unworthy. Where did all of this come from and why didn't I realize this incessant conversation had been going on for years. Then I watch my mother, my 75 year old miserable hateful mother walk through the house and verbally muttering hateful stuff so everyone can hear her for hours. From a mother to her daughter passed down like a venereal disease that grows silently for years just festering inside the soul.
Why? And why have I kept it quashed down inside me? I knew better than to let it out it disgusting and hateful. So I walk around with this things crouching down inside me like a toad or better yet hanging on my ear whispering negative garbage that has caused me to be sad because sometimes it wins. All the things it says are aimed at destroying my soul. So I learned unconsiously to argue with it. "Why are you talking like this you know it's wrong" "Whats wrong with you?" "You need to stop, seriously that's disgusting" "And you think you're so good, really?" Actually it's not helpful. Pretty soon I'll be duking it out with myself.
Now, if you tell a doctor about these arguments and how you know its wrong, he'll diagnose you with some disorder. It's easier than saying everybody does this to an extent, what extent? I'm not sure. And why are you arguing, are you really criticizing others or is it really aimed at yourself, your doing everything the way everyone expects you to, your following all the rules, your not doing anything wrong, actually your're not doing anything period. But that's not good enough, because if you want to be good enough to be loved you must be better "live up to your potential!" What potential, potential for what, noone told me what it was. Be happy, you should focus on being happy, what does that mean, to be happy. I think I watch everyone else be happy, or at least tell me they are and then tell me what I need to do to be as happy as they are (they don't look happy to me).
Then, you tell them what makes you happy, what things you want to do, and they tell you that's not what you should do, that's ridiculous, this is what you should do, it's in you, you're not fulfilling your destiny if you don't do those things and if you don't do them I won't love you.
Did you ever? I don't think so.
Before, everyone started telling me what I needed to do and how I needed to live, that I needed to get married and have children, that I needed to get a phd, I thought I was good enough, I was happy. I liked me, I still like me, God likes me.
My brother told me once "you're one of those people, live and let live", I said "yea, why not?"
Why not?
Monday, March 18, 2013
March 18, 2013
It's March, and I can't believe it's hot already. I live in the hottest part of the nation anyway, but does it have to start so early? Ugghhhh we're already using our air conditioner.
Noises and things that go bump in the night, or not the night, maybe during the day, maybe while you're walking down your hallway or lying in your bed. Voices that whisper your name. Voices that tell you "you better go check your car I think someone stole it" over and over again, until you do. Or maybe "you better go turn on off your stove, it's gonna burn down the house" repeatedly even though you didn't cook anything. Maybe just your conscience making you double check things you should've checked previously and didn't? Maybe it's your imagination? Does it stop after you check those things and find out that everything is okay? No.
Now you decide to tell the voices they are not real, but they tell you "Yes I am", you keep saying they're not real and the voice keeps arguing. Finally, you yell "YOU'RE NOT REAL!!!!" You wait..............silence.............then in a whisper...yes I am. Is it? What is this? Is it demonic oppression? Demonic possession? You've been punked? You don't sleep at night, you hear things, you think things, your mind won't shut down. What the hell!!!!
Welcome to schizophrenia, it's the things horror movies are made of. Millions of people in the United States suffer from this disorder. They won't tell you...you'll think their crazy....are they? Why? Don't you talk to yourself? Are you crazy?
It's stressful, there are migraines and anxiety that come with it. If you can't get a decent psychiatrist you're stuck on old medications that will slowly poison you and you can still hear the voices. So you self medicate with weed, being an addict is another disorder within your original disorder, smoking helps, but it hurts at the same time.
Finally, you are on good medication, your working, taking care of your kids, functioning effectively and then Obama has all the tax rules and income limits on welfare changed. You know you have to make cutbacks and afterall we want to spend more money on..............who knows. So the ceiling for qualifying for medical is lowered and even though you were not making 1,800.00 a month as a teacher's aide supporting two kids, you're still too rich to get the medications that keep you well to work and make your own life.
Antipsychotics are no joke, they're expensive 200.00 will get you approximately enough for 2 to 3 days cash. Sanity induced by pharmocology is not cheap. So you go to the mediCal office and a girl who makes maybe....2500.00 a month tells you she can get you qualified if you would just quit your job and go on social security fulltime. FUCKING AMAZING!!! So the government would rather you collect off of them fulltime social security disability than to have you work and make your own life. If you would just file, they get you your medications so the noises will stop, otherwise you are on you're own.
On your own, fighting mental illness with drugs so expensive you cannot afford them fighting a mediCal worker who barely graduated highschool and looks like she just got off welfare and is suddenly an authority on the subject. Meanwhile, you end up taking a ride via an ambulance, to the emergency room to be shipped out to a mental health hospital to get you medication and all of this is cheaper, because after all, you can't pay for the ride, emergency mediCal will pick it up and all of this makes good common sense.
Sadly, a high functioning schizophrenic is not something that the system can handle. They believe that a person with this disorder has lost their ability to contribute to society and therefore, should be made to sit at home and be sedated via your tax dollars, now she doesn't want to, she wants to work, but our government thinks she should sit at home and YOU should pay for it otherwise no medicine. Sounds like discrimination on a huge level.
It's March, and I can't believe it's hot already. I live in the hottest part of the nation anyway, but does it have to start so early? Ugghhhh we're already using our air conditioner.
Noises and things that go bump in the night, or not the night, maybe during the day, maybe while you're walking down your hallway or lying in your bed. Voices that whisper your name. Voices that tell you "you better go check your car I think someone stole it" over and over again, until you do. Or maybe "you better go turn on off your stove, it's gonna burn down the house" repeatedly even though you didn't cook anything. Maybe just your conscience making you double check things you should've checked previously and didn't? Maybe it's your imagination? Does it stop after you check those things and find out that everything is okay? No.
Now you decide to tell the voices they are not real, but they tell you "Yes I am", you keep saying they're not real and the voice keeps arguing. Finally, you yell "YOU'RE NOT REAL!!!!" You wait..............silence.............then in a whisper...yes I am. Is it? What is this? Is it demonic oppression? Demonic possession? You've been punked? You don't sleep at night, you hear things, you think things, your mind won't shut down. What the hell!!!!
Welcome to schizophrenia, it's the things horror movies are made of. Millions of people in the United States suffer from this disorder. They won't tell you...you'll think their crazy....are they? Why? Don't you talk to yourself? Are you crazy?
It's stressful, there are migraines and anxiety that come with it. If you can't get a decent psychiatrist you're stuck on old medications that will slowly poison you and you can still hear the voices. So you self medicate with weed, being an addict is another disorder within your original disorder, smoking helps, but it hurts at the same time.
Finally, you are on good medication, your working, taking care of your kids, functioning effectively and then Obama has all the tax rules and income limits on welfare changed. You know you have to make cutbacks and afterall we want to spend more money on..............who knows. So the ceiling for qualifying for medical is lowered and even though you were not making 1,800.00 a month as a teacher's aide supporting two kids, you're still too rich to get the medications that keep you well to work and make your own life.
Antipsychotics are no joke, they're expensive 200.00 will get you approximately enough for 2 to 3 days cash. Sanity induced by pharmocology is not cheap. So you go to the mediCal office and a girl who makes maybe....2500.00 a month tells you she can get you qualified if you would just quit your job and go on social security fulltime. FUCKING AMAZING!!! So the government would rather you collect off of them fulltime social security disability than to have you work and make your own life. If you would just file, they get you your medications so the noises will stop, otherwise you are on you're own.
On your own, fighting mental illness with drugs so expensive you cannot afford them fighting a mediCal worker who barely graduated highschool and looks like she just got off welfare and is suddenly an authority on the subject. Meanwhile, you end up taking a ride via an ambulance, to the emergency room to be shipped out to a mental health hospital to get you medication and all of this is cheaper, because after all, you can't pay for the ride, emergency mediCal will pick it up and all of this makes good common sense.
Sadly, a high functioning schizophrenic is not something that the system can handle. They believe that a person with this disorder has lost their ability to contribute to society and therefore, should be made to sit at home and be sedated via your tax dollars, now she doesn't want to, she wants to work, but our government thinks she should sit at home and YOU should pay for it otherwise no medicine. Sounds like discrimination on a huge level.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
March 13, 2013,
I was having a conversation with a friend of mine over having guns in the home. He's very pro guns with several in his home for the protection of his family. He's very safe and practices frequently, I on the other hand was raised with guns, my grandfather let me load shot for him in the pool room before dove season every year. I thought it was like a chemistry set, working this machine waching the bbs and the powder go into the shell and then sealing it. It was fun. Later Daddy taught me how to shoot clay pigeons off of the back of the pickup, but the stipulation was whatever we killed we cleaned so I wasn't excited about shooting the actual birds.
The conversation changed when I revealed that I had owned a remington 12 gauge double barrel shot gun for years, but I had been married to a drug addict who stole money and was very physically violent when he didn't get the money he wanted. I had served him with restraining orders and called the police many times when he walked through them. Finally, one day I knew the gun was becoming a liability for me. I remember being so angry one night that I considered ways of using the gun and getting rid of the body. But, when I sat and thought it all through I knew that my daughters would be without a mother and that couldn't happen so I sold it.
People dont understand when a person is taken somewhere in their brain due to a traumatic event, death in the family, war, rage, an accident it's very dark and it's a whole other area that gets added on, like a room addition in your house. Now it's not a nice room, but it's there. You may choose to keep the door closed on it all the time, maybe even try to board it up, but it's there. And if you choose you can go into it whenever you want. That place in your brain that was created because of whatever thing happened to you in your life, is always there, it may be quiet it may be at peace but if something reminds it of the past or triggers memories from the past, you are suddenly thrust into that room feeling every frustration, anger, depression, fear and torment as though it was happening all over again, as if it had never stopped. Its like a sleeping giant.
Professionals will tell you that it is termed post traumatic syndrome and things that trigger it cause those feelings and fears that lay dormant to come alive. Sometimes it leaks out as a twitch or some other little habit that goes unnoticed by others. I believe its a room, an extra room in your brain that lays there quietly until something triggers the activity, alerts, sirens and alarms to go off.
The other night me and all my girls were at the house sitting in the back yard. My oldest recently separated from her husband who is a violent drug addict. She finally, after years of abuse filed divorce paperwork and on that night we had gotten wind that he was back in town. Well, when we were notified of the possibility it was amazing to watch all of us to into alert and prepare the house. Everyone had a job, my oldest's job was to get on the phone and find out exactly where he was. It was the youngest and her friend's job to pull in the cars and lock the bikes, lock the gates and get the kids in. It was mine to double check all the locks on the windows, find the flashlights and the bat (I've always wanted the opportunity to use my bat) and make sure everyone had their phone on them. Kids in the house kitchen cleaned and on lockdown we sat on the front porch while mary made calls. Finally, she got someone to talk to her from the rehabilition center and he was there. We stood down, but we did find out that he'd be out in a few days.
Yes we sat on the porch, because the best defense is a damn good solid offense. Now I know the saying is the best offense is a good defense, but when your in a situation like we have been in several times you learn to get on the offense and quick. As I was telling my friend he said what do you mean? I said we had to find him, know where you enemy is exactly, don't wait for him to find you, you go out and find him and do it fast.
As I was sitting with them it was like sitting in the trenches with fighters waiting for the action to start. The night was quiet, there was a slight breeze, everyone was still and I thought what a strange skill my daughers have learned without even taking classes or talking about it we have learned how to band together even a couple of very close friends I call daughters know the drill and work it with us.
I'm not sure if it's something to be proud of or be sad about. At least I know they can take care of each other. They always say "ride or die" Good Lord I need to spend more time prayin.
I was having a conversation with a friend of mine over having guns in the home. He's very pro guns with several in his home for the protection of his family. He's very safe and practices frequently, I on the other hand was raised with guns, my grandfather let me load shot for him in the pool room before dove season every year. I thought it was like a chemistry set, working this machine waching the bbs and the powder go into the shell and then sealing it. It was fun. Later Daddy taught me how to shoot clay pigeons off of the back of the pickup, but the stipulation was whatever we killed we cleaned so I wasn't excited about shooting the actual birds.
The conversation changed when I revealed that I had owned a remington 12 gauge double barrel shot gun for years, but I had been married to a drug addict who stole money and was very physically violent when he didn't get the money he wanted. I had served him with restraining orders and called the police many times when he walked through them. Finally, one day I knew the gun was becoming a liability for me. I remember being so angry one night that I considered ways of using the gun and getting rid of the body. But, when I sat and thought it all through I knew that my daughters would be without a mother and that couldn't happen so I sold it.
People dont understand when a person is taken somewhere in their brain due to a traumatic event, death in the family, war, rage, an accident it's very dark and it's a whole other area that gets added on, like a room addition in your house. Now it's not a nice room, but it's there. You may choose to keep the door closed on it all the time, maybe even try to board it up, but it's there. And if you choose you can go into it whenever you want. That place in your brain that was created because of whatever thing happened to you in your life, is always there, it may be quiet it may be at peace but if something reminds it of the past or triggers memories from the past, you are suddenly thrust into that room feeling every frustration, anger, depression, fear and torment as though it was happening all over again, as if it had never stopped. Its like a sleeping giant.
Professionals will tell you that it is termed post traumatic syndrome and things that trigger it cause those feelings and fears that lay dormant to come alive. Sometimes it leaks out as a twitch or some other little habit that goes unnoticed by others. I believe its a room, an extra room in your brain that lays there quietly until something triggers the activity, alerts, sirens and alarms to go off.
The other night me and all my girls were at the house sitting in the back yard. My oldest recently separated from her husband who is a violent drug addict. She finally, after years of abuse filed divorce paperwork and on that night we had gotten wind that he was back in town. Well, when we were notified of the possibility it was amazing to watch all of us to into alert and prepare the house. Everyone had a job, my oldest's job was to get on the phone and find out exactly where he was. It was the youngest and her friend's job to pull in the cars and lock the bikes, lock the gates and get the kids in. It was mine to double check all the locks on the windows, find the flashlights and the bat (I've always wanted the opportunity to use my bat) and make sure everyone had their phone on them. Kids in the house kitchen cleaned and on lockdown we sat on the front porch while mary made calls. Finally, she got someone to talk to her from the rehabilition center and he was there. We stood down, but we did find out that he'd be out in a few days.
Yes we sat on the porch, because the best defense is a damn good solid offense. Now I know the saying is the best offense is a good defense, but when your in a situation like we have been in several times you learn to get on the offense and quick. As I was telling my friend he said what do you mean? I said we had to find him, know where you enemy is exactly, don't wait for him to find you, you go out and find him and do it fast.
As I was sitting with them it was like sitting in the trenches with fighters waiting for the action to start. The night was quiet, there was a slight breeze, everyone was still and I thought what a strange skill my daughers have learned without even taking classes or talking about it we have learned how to band together even a couple of very close friends I call daughters know the drill and work it with us.
I'm not sure if it's something to be proud of or be sad about. At least I know they can take care of each other. They always say "ride or die" Good Lord I need to spend more time prayin.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
March, 7, 2013
I read many different blogs and I think they are so cool. There are ones for every interest possible and some have the most beautiful pictures and are so interesting. Even when some of the authors write about their lives it sounds wonderful and perfect. So why has mine been so messy like a collage with no theme running through it, it's just a collage. I don't know, maybe that's why I enjoy reading other peoples, theirs are cool.
So I was raised by a wonderful set of grandparents. They loved to camp, throw parties, provide a home for all of us filled with two basketball courts, swimming, tetherball, baseball, swings, just everything, it was fun. You would think we lived on a farm, but we didn't it was downtown Los Angeles in a new suburb that as my grandmother would explain was built on a dump. My brother would ride his bike to Dodger's Stadium. The school district offered the best summer recreational program, it was a blast and it kept us learning, socializing and out of trouble. Out our patio we had a beautiful view of Mount Baldy.
My grandfather took us from that setting to a small rural town in the middle of the desert with the temperatures ranging from the 60s in the winter to (and this is no lie) 129 (that's not a mistake) in the summer. It was hot Duh! We lived on the Colorado River, we skied, played pool and because we lived on the river away from everything that I knew as civilization we got fat, oh well, it didn't stay forever.
My first month in school a beautiful girl came to me and asked me if I wanted to go to church. She was a Catholic and they seemed to do everything, I wanted to go. I had no idea as a child how personal religion was and how everyone's experiences with their faith affected their viewpoint. I was a kid I just wanted to go. I got turned down everyway but sideways. There was no way that was gonna happen. My grandfather sat in his chair and exclaimed "You can be any other religion you want to be, you'd probably make a good morman, but you will never be a Catholic I forbid it". What??? She seemed nice to me what's the problem?? Ok fine.
Some years went by and daddy (my grandfather) always told stories, he went to school with John Wayne (No he played at the same highschool as John Wayne did only a few years later) but as the years went by he played football with John Wayne, whatever works that's fine. He and my grandmother grew up during their teen years in Yuma Arizona, movies were filmed in the Glamis hills and they used extras all the time so we got those stories too, alot, a whole lot. Anyway, then began the stories of daddy's experiences in the Catholic schools. He told stories about secret tunnels between the school, the priests quarters and the nuns quarters. He told stories about being beat and the priests not being very nice. He told stories about sneaking around and whispering in corners. I would always say daddy, come on now that's not cool to talk that way about your church, that didn't happen. For years he would tell me stories of young boys and him running away from the school to never return. His father had sent him there, he wanted him to become a priest (who would do that to their son). Daddy's father came over on the boat to Ellis Island from Ireland and to be completely honest they weren't the nicest of people, my daddy on the other hand loved his family.
Anyway, the stories continued and I put them in the same category as he went to school with John Wayne. Finally, my grandfather passed away in 1985. One day I was sitting in my livingroom listening to the news and I couldn't believe my ears, "What did they just say?" "No way!!"
Sure enough, all the secrets were beginning to come out, and I felt so bad for not believing him. My grandfather had been treated very poorly in the school, he had witnessed things he shouldn'tve and he ran away. And all of the stories were true......
So I have to wonder, did he really go to school with John Wayne? Nah...............
I read many different blogs and I think they are so cool. There are ones for every interest possible and some have the most beautiful pictures and are so interesting. Even when some of the authors write about their lives it sounds wonderful and perfect. So why has mine been so messy like a collage with no theme running through it, it's just a collage. I don't know, maybe that's why I enjoy reading other peoples, theirs are cool.
So I was raised by a wonderful set of grandparents. They loved to camp, throw parties, provide a home for all of us filled with two basketball courts, swimming, tetherball, baseball, swings, just everything, it was fun. You would think we lived on a farm, but we didn't it was downtown Los Angeles in a new suburb that as my grandmother would explain was built on a dump. My brother would ride his bike to Dodger's Stadium. The school district offered the best summer recreational program, it was a blast and it kept us learning, socializing and out of trouble. Out our patio we had a beautiful view of Mount Baldy.
My grandfather took us from that setting to a small rural town in the middle of the desert with the temperatures ranging from the 60s in the winter to (and this is no lie) 129 (that's not a mistake) in the summer. It was hot Duh! We lived on the Colorado River, we skied, played pool and because we lived on the river away from everything that I knew as civilization we got fat, oh well, it didn't stay forever.
My first month in school a beautiful girl came to me and asked me if I wanted to go to church. She was a Catholic and they seemed to do everything, I wanted to go. I had no idea as a child how personal religion was and how everyone's experiences with their faith affected their viewpoint. I was a kid I just wanted to go. I got turned down everyway but sideways. There was no way that was gonna happen. My grandfather sat in his chair and exclaimed "You can be any other religion you want to be, you'd probably make a good morman, but you will never be a Catholic I forbid it". What??? She seemed nice to me what's the problem?? Ok fine.
Some years went by and daddy (my grandfather) always told stories, he went to school with John Wayne (No he played at the same highschool as John Wayne did only a few years later) but as the years went by he played football with John Wayne, whatever works that's fine. He and my grandmother grew up during their teen years in Yuma Arizona, movies were filmed in the Glamis hills and they used extras all the time so we got those stories too, alot, a whole lot. Anyway, then began the stories of daddy's experiences in the Catholic schools. He told stories about secret tunnels between the school, the priests quarters and the nuns quarters. He told stories about being beat and the priests not being very nice. He told stories about sneaking around and whispering in corners. I would always say daddy, come on now that's not cool to talk that way about your church, that didn't happen. For years he would tell me stories of young boys and him running away from the school to never return. His father had sent him there, he wanted him to become a priest (who would do that to their son). Daddy's father came over on the boat to Ellis Island from Ireland and to be completely honest they weren't the nicest of people, my daddy on the other hand loved his family.
Anyway, the stories continued and I put them in the same category as he went to school with John Wayne. Finally, my grandfather passed away in 1985. One day I was sitting in my livingroom listening to the news and I couldn't believe my ears, "What did they just say?" "No way!!"
Sure enough, all the secrets were beginning to come out, and I felt so bad for not believing him. My grandfather had been treated very poorly in the school, he had witnessed things he shouldn'tve and he ran away. And all of the stories were true......
So I have to wonder, did he really go to school with John Wayne? Nah...............
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
March 6, 2013
My mother had me when she was 21, that was in 1959. She was married to a construction worker, irish medium build, dark hair and alcoholic. He would go to the bars before he would come home and spend his paycheck. He would invite his friends to come home with him and try to get my mother to have sex with them. Obviously, he was a real stand up kind of a guy. Why my mother got pregnant with my little brother is beyond me, but she did and it was during that pregnancy that she left my wonderful father. She went home to her parents, my grandparents and from there things were continually unstable except when I lived with them.
I remember going with my mother to court in Los Angeles one rainy dark morning. As usual she was angry and driving like someone that needed to have their license taken away, yelling at everyone on the road until finally she took the off ramp down the hill turned right and spun out of control into the enbankment with yellow wet grass thrown up on the windshield. I had braced myself with my feet against the dash and my knees in my chest, not cool. She pulled out and we continued to the courtroom where a tall man in a plaid coat came up to me and said hello. I had no idea who he was or why we were in this tall building with wood walls and benches and a big wood bench at the front with a man in a black robe staring back at me. I didn't say anything back to him, I didn't know him. I wouldn't find out until years later that that person was my father, and the building was a court, he was being brought into court for child support of which he never paid and I didn't see him again until I was 19 years old.
At the age of 19 I was sitting in the probation office typing a report about a teenage boy who had stabbed another teen to death at a party, that was my job, transcribing the probation officers notes into reports, how fun. It was lunch, a man peeked his head through the door and said "Are you Cindy?" I said "Yes, can I help you?" I was used to people checking in, making appointments and doing various other things, it was no great event to see a man at the door. He just stared at me. I asked again "Can I help you?". He said I'm Jackie (I had no idea who that would be) "Jackie Perkinson, I'm your father". Well let me jump for joy a happy reunion (I say that with the utmost sarcasm). "What do you want?" I asked. Well, he wanted to say hello and visit. Whatever. So we talked a moment and then it came out, he had been called by the District Attorney's office for child support (this was before there were computers where they actually kept a tally of monies owed, apparently his got archived into the oldest archives, probably with Moses). He let me know that he had called my grandmother to talk to my little brother but she wouldn't let him. So he proceeded to let me know he didn't need that, he had two perfect sons in Phoenix Arizona. Phoenix Arizona, 160 miles away from me, really. Needless to say when he said that I told him that he hadn't helped with my brother since his birth, therefore, he withdrew all rights to any criticism regarding his progress in life. Then I explained that we were done talking and he needed to get back on the freeway and head east, my daddy was my grandfather, he was nothing to me.
That was the last time I ever saw him and during my childhood and early adulthood I fully believed children didn't need their fathers. I didn't have a father I always argued, how can you miss something you never had? There was no feeling for him, there was nothing.
However, as I have continued to age and have worked with children I have learned that there were holes in my development due to the lack of having a father. There were things I never learned or experienced. I never had a father kiss my face or hold my hand or teach me anything, or just love me unconditionally without alterior motives. I watched children especially girls who had their fathers and I realized they were learning from a healthy adult male what having a trusting safe relationship was like. Of course this requires having a healthy relationship with a mentally and emotionally healthy father, I didn't have that and when it came time for a stepfather I didn't have that then.
I was jealous of the covering of protection and genuine love these girls had from their fathers and I watched them beam as though they were overflowing with love from him. I wasn't jealous as though I hated them, but I wanted that kind of love too, but I didn't know how to get it. Boys can't give it and when you become an adult woman men can't give that to an adult woman, it'd be wierd.
However, I learned that my relationship with God could give it to me, He was able to fill the hole and love me unconditionally when others couldn't or wouldn't.
I understand why women do everything they can to keep the fathers of their children at home, even if they aren't healthy mentally or emotionally, meaning they are addicts or abusive. They hope it will somehow turn around and magically be fixed and then their children will have what they see other children having. It doesn't work that way. Even under the best circumstances of picking a mate, they may decide not to love you later, I've seen it. I say pray, let God do the picking and pray and then pray some more. And if you don't really know what to do.....pray again. God says he'll direct our steps and I believe it. He says he has plans for us with an expected end, plans with a future, I believe that too. And while they are unfolding, we learn to trust Him and wait and see the good things He's giving and understand that he gives us the desires of our hearts, I believe that too.
My mother had me when she was 21, that was in 1959. She was married to a construction worker, irish medium build, dark hair and alcoholic. He would go to the bars before he would come home and spend his paycheck. He would invite his friends to come home with him and try to get my mother to have sex with them. Obviously, he was a real stand up kind of a guy. Why my mother got pregnant with my little brother is beyond me, but she did and it was during that pregnancy that she left my wonderful father. She went home to her parents, my grandparents and from there things were continually unstable except when I lived with them.
I remember going with my mother to court in Los Angeles one rainy dark morning. As usual she was angry and driving like someone that needed to have their license taken away, yelling at everyone on the road until finally she took the off ramp down the hill turned right and spun out of control into the enbankment with yellow wet grass thrown up on the windshield. I had braced myself with my feet against the dash and my knees in my chest, not cool. She pulled out and we continued to the courtroom where a tall man in a plaid coat came up to me and said hello. I had no idea who he was or why we were in this tall building with wood walls and benches and a big wood bench at the front with a man in a black robe staring back at me. I didn't say anything back to him, I didn't know him. I wouldn't find out until years later that that person was my father, and the building was a court, he was being brought into court for child support of which he never paid and I didn't see him again until I was 19 years old.
At the age of 19 I was sitting in the probation office typing a report about a teenage boy who had stabbed another teen to death at a party, that was my job, transcribing the probation officers notes into reports, how fun. It was lunch, a man peeked his head through the door and said "Are you Cindy?" I said "Yes, can I help you?" I was used to people checking in, making appointments and doing various other things, it was no great event to see a man at the door. He just stared at me. I asked again "Can I help you?". He said I'm Jackie (I had no idea who that would be) "Jackie Perkinson, I'm your father". Well let me jump for joy a happy reunion (I say that with the utmost sarcasm). "What do you want?" I asked. Well, he wanted to say hello and visit. Whatever. So we talked a moment and then it came out, he had been called by the District Attorney's office for child support (this was before there were computers where they actually kept a tally of monies owed, apparently his got archived into the oldest archives, probably with Moses). He let me know that he had called my grandmother to talk to my little brother but she wouldn't let him. So he proceeded to let me know he didn't need that, he had two perfect sons in Phoenix Arizona. Phoenix Arizona, 160 miles away from me, really. Needless to say when he said that I told him that he hadn't helped with my brother since his birth, therefore, he withdrew all rights to any criticism regarding his progress in life. Then I explained that we were done talking and he needed to get back on the freeway and head east, my daddy was my grandfather, he was nothing to me.
That was the last time I ever saw him and during my childhood and early adulthood I fully believed children didn't need their fathers. I didn't have a father I always argued, how can you miss something you never had? There was no feeling for him, there was nothing.
However, as I have continued to age and have worked with children I have learned that there were holes in my development due to the lack of having a father. There were things I never learned or experienced. I never had a father kiss my face or hold my hand or teach me anything, or just love me unconditionally without alterior motives. I watched children especially girls who had their fathers and I realized they were learning from a healthy adult male what having a trusting safe relationship was like. Of course this requires having a healthy relationship with a mentally and emotionally healthy father, I didn't have that and when it came time for a stepfather I didn't have that then.
I was jealous of the covering of protection and genuine love these girls had from their fathers and I watched them beam as though they were overflowing with love from him. I wasn't jealous as though I hated them, but I wanted that kind of love too, but I didn't know how to get it. Boys can't give it and when you become an adult woman men can't give that to an adult woman, it'd be wierd.
However, I learned that my relationship with God could give it to me, He was able to fill the hole and love me unconditionally when others couldn't or wouldn't.
I understand why women do everything they can to keep the fathers of their children at home, even if they aren't healthy mentally or emotionally, meaning they are addicts or abusive. They hope it will somehow turn around and magically be fixed and then their children will have what they see other children having. It doesn't work that way. Even under the best circumstances of picking a mate, they may decide not to love you later, I've seen it. I say pray, let God do the picking and pray and then pray some more. And if you don't really know what to do.....pray again. God says he'll direct our steps and I believe it. He says he has plans for us with an expected end, plans with a future, I believe that too. And while they are unfolding, we learn to trust Him and wait and see the good things He's giving and understand that he gives us the desires of our hearts, I believe that too.
Monday, March 4, 2013
March 5, 2013
We all have parents. I'll just start there, for some of us that's a good thing they are supportive, nurturing, loving and rock solid. Now the real world or at least my world.
I have a parent, I have spent my life trying to not have a parent especially not that one, but I do. I grew up with screaming and yelling and disappearing acts and so many other things. One of my earliest memories is being in my grandparents livingroom watching the Ed Sullivan show when my mother and her fiancee' (who knows really) walk in from the kitchen. Was that my mother??? Her hair was platinum, what's platinum hair? Who does that? She looks wierd and whats she wearing? A light blue skirt suit? With a fur collar? Man she looks wierd. What's wrong with her hair?? I'm 53 and I can still see that hair, maan.
And beside her, who is that? He looks wierder than she does, he's gross! Good they're leaving, I don't know where or for how long but good I want to watch TV! That was the second time. There were many others, we made a move down to a rural town, my grandmother said there might be bugs crawling on the walls and there were but that's another story. My mother had many boyfriends, husbands, whatever, they were a blur, some I knew, some I didn't. I was raised mostly with my grandparents, and again that's another story. (I have many many stories). Back in the sixties there were many disorders that went untreated and undiagnosed. My mother was at the top of the list, that woman, even now I'm not quite sure, you can say Bipolar schizoid affective, Borderline personality disorder or really I prefer demonic possession from the pit of hell, straight evil no exorcism strong enough, that'd be my diagnosis. She's not someone you'd put in a retirement home, it wouldn't be fair to the other residents, things, people might come up missing. No she needs to stay in her apartment. They'll have to burn it down when she's gone but renovation is good.
Anyway, my mother has quit working, she lives in a small apartment and comes to my house everyday to have coffee, vaccum, do laundry (none of which I have asked for, but okay). She likes to hang out, sometimes we'll garden but mostly it's coffee and I cook her breakfast. She's in her late seventies, but I think she thinks she's 90. Sooo...today I came home to the blind in the kitchen being off the strings that pull it up. I've had the blinds for a long time and I couldn't figure out what was wrong with them. I called my youngest and asked her what happened. She had no idea. Sooo....I called my mother (Oh God). I had my granddaughter in the kitchen with me and she's just giggling. They call her babygrandma, I don't know why. She's short is all I can figure, but that's what they call her. And she's mean, meaner than hell! Doesn't like all the mess the grandkids make, doesn't like the way the girls (my three daughters) act sometimes. Like they act good, I have to laugh at that sometimes. They're independent, not the submissive types I'm afraid, but they're fun.
Mom, what happened to the blind, did you break the blind somehow? Uhh yes I don't know what happened it just broke but I think you just need to thread it through. I can see that mom why did you pull all the string out??? And then why didn't you tell me???? And here it finally came, WEEELLLLLLL???????? Now I'm a 53 year old woman in her 2nd year of her doctorate in psychology. I have talked with parents, women of all ages, counseled young women, taught children, but this???? A WEELLLLLLL with the whiniest drawn out voice? I got nothin. I said bye and hung up. My granddaughter, whose sitting in the kitchen with me gives it up, laughing and laughing. Finally she says nama (that's what they call me ughhh) next time I get in trouble that's what I'm gonna say.
Needless to say we worked together to fix the blind, I'm trying to keep my temper, I said trying that's all I could do was to try. My granddaughter's watching and I want to kill my mother so I'd better calm down, all the while, she's saying WEELLLLL Nama.
We all have parents. I'll just start there, for some of us that's a good thing they are supportive, nurturing, loving and rock solid. Now the real world or at least my world.
I have a parent, I have spent my life trying to not have a parent especially not that one, but I do. I grew up with screaming and yelling and disappearing acts and so many other things. One of my earliest memories is being in my grandparents livingroom watching the Ed Sullivan show when my mother and her fiancee' (who knows really) walk in from the kitchen. Was that my mother??? Her hair was platinum, what's platinum hair? Who does that? She looks wierd and whats she wearing? A light blue skirt suit? With a fur collar? Man she looks wierd. What's wrong with her hair?? I'm 53 and I can still see that hair, maan.
And beside her, who is that? He looks wierder than she does, he's gross! Good they're leaving, I don't know where or for how long but good I want to watch TV! That was the second time. There were many others, we made a move down to a rural town, my grandmother said there might be bugs crawling on the walls and there were but that's another story. My mother had many boyfriends, husbands, whatever, they were a blur, some I knew, some I didn't. I was raised mostly with my grandparents, and again that's another story. (I have many many stories). Back in the sixties there were many disorders that went untreated and undiagnosed. My mother was at the top of the list, that woman, even now I'm not quite sure, you can say Bipolar schizoid affective, Borderline personality disorder or really I prefer demonic possession from the pit of hell, straight evil no exorcism strong enough, that'd be my diagnosis. She's not someone you'd put in a retirement home, it wouldn't be fair to the other residents, things, people might come up missing. No she needs to stay in her apartment. They'll have to burn it down when she's gone but renovation is good.
Anyway, my mother has quit working, she lives in a small apartment and comes to my house everyday to have coffee, vaccum, do laundry (none of which I have asked for, but okay). She likes to hang out, sometimes we'll garden but mostly it's coffee and I cook her breakfast. She's in her late seventies, but I think she thinks she's 90. Sooo...today I came home to the blind in the kitchen being off the strings that pull it up. I've had the blinds for a long time and I couldn't figure out what was wrong with them. I called my youngest and asked her what happened. She had no idea. Sooo....I called my mother (Oh God). I had my granddaughter in the kitchen with me and she's just giggling. They call her babygrandma, I don't know why. She's short is all I can figure, but that's what they call her. And she's mean, meaner than hell! Doesn't like all the mess the grandkids make, doesn't like the way the girls (my three daughters) act sometimes. Like they act good, I have to laugh at that sometimes. They're independent, not the submissive types I'm afraid, but they're fun.
Mom, what happened to the blind, did you break the blind somehow? Uhh yes I don't know what happened it just broke but I think you just need to thread it through. I can see that mom why did you pull all the string out??? And then why didn't you tell me???? And here it finally came, WEEELLLLLLL???????? Now I'm a 53 year old woman in her 2nd year of her doctorate in psychology. I have talked with parents, women of all ages, counseled young women, taught children, but this???? A WEELLLLLLL with the whiniest drawn out voice? I got nothin. I said bye and hung up. My granddaughter, whose sitting in the kitchen with me gives it up, laughing and laughing. Finally she says nama (that's what they call me ughhh) next time I get in trouble that's what I'm gonna say.
Needless to say we worked together to fix the blind, I'm trying to keep my temper, I said trying that's all I could do was to try. My granddaughter's watching and I want to kill my mother so I'd better calm down, all the while, she's saying WEELLLLL Nama.
March 4, 2013
Attention Deficit Disorder is characterized in the DSM IV, as someone who cannot maintain their attention or focus, someone who is easily distracted and cannot engage in tasks that take a longer time period. This person is disorganized in the way they live their lives and in their thought patterns. Sometimes they will focus intensely on something for a short while, but then move to the next thing never completing anything.
In terms more associated with parenting or in my case grandparenting (although I had an ADD child), its a child that although is usually very intelligent, you just can't seem to focus that genius on one thing long enough to finish it. And when they're young? They're running in circles picking things dropping them going to the next thing, asking ten million questions, then asking them again.....and again until finally you (the parent) are exhausted and yet they just keep going. They make the energizer bunny look tired!! They however, resemble Dr. Seuss's Thing One and Thing Two, and the damage left in the wake is very similar to that.
Now if the child is under five years of age, no good doctor will medicate them, they're too young, there is the possibility they will calm down by the age of five, not likely but there's always the possibility. As the parent you think they will spin out of orbit by the age of five and if that doesn't happen you are considering medicating yourself.
What causes this insanity, what did we (as parents) do wrong? Who knows, maybe nothing, maybe drugs, maybe deep depression or some traumatic experience and maybe it just happened. There's so much research on the subject you could spin the wheel and pick an answer. There are so many variables and none of them make any of us feel better, not one of them. And even if you understand the problem it doesn't make it go away.
ADD kids are awesome. They're intelligent and quick physically and mentally. When I had my day care center we were doing 2nd and 3rd grade social studies and science projects with these kids. They were not reading yet although very close, but they loved the projects, the harder they were the more interested they became and the more they learned. When they went into kindergarten the schools knew where they came from and they knew they had already gone through the kindergarten curriculum, some of them twice and they ate it up. And quick, you couldn't get anything passed them, I mean nothing, but that was okay they deserved the respect and honest dialogue that every person deserves, but they did not like being talked down to as though they were babies, they were smart and they knew it.
One of my ex-employees has a three year old boy, I believe he's probably Thing 1, very ADD. He runs circles in my yard slams car doors runs to the back door to the back fence and starts all over again. He never huffs or puffs, he just keeps going. I watched him for a long time, he would run so fast he'd fall several times and get back up and keep going. He'd ask the same questions over and over again, never hearing the answer. By the time he did it was time for the next question and then some laps around the yard and slam some doors. The mother's blood pressure never seems under complete control and she self medicates to keep a good attitude. When she doesn't she's screaming and screaming and screaming, I think all the neighbors know his name. He won't drink coffee, so that home remedy was out, he drinks regular mountain dew sometimes but it didn't seem to work. Finally, I told her give him a teaspoon of the five hour energy drink lets see how he does.
Poof! He completed a sentence, he actually completed a thought. He sat and ate lunch, his whole lunch. He got up and washed his hands. He walked through the house, didn't run, just walked. He went outside to play and actually sat down for a few minutes. He talked, he said please and thank you and listened to other people talking. He didn't slow down too much, just to a normal pace and amazingly, he took an afternoon nap, a small one but still a nap. And mom wasn't screaming.
Now that she has her solution can you imagine if there was no five hour energy drink in the land? Like anywhere? Looting in the streets a wild crime spree all committed by a poor mother of an ADD child in search of her remedy.
Attention Deficit Disorder is characterized in the DSM IV, as someone who cannot maintain their attention or focus, someone who is easily distracted and cannot engage in tasks that take a longer time period. This person is disorganized in the way they live their lives and in their thought patterns. Sometimes they will focus intensely on something for a short while, but then move to the next thing never completing anything.
In terms more associated with parenting or in my case grandparenting (although I had an ADD child), its a child that although is usually very intelligent, you just can't seem to focus that genius on one thing long enough to finish it. And when they're young? They're running in circles picking things dropping them going to the next thing, asking ten million questions, then asking them again.....and again until finally you (the parent) are exhausted and yet they just keep going. They make the energizer bunny look tired!! They however, resemble Dr. Seuss's Thing One and Thing Two, and the damage left in the wake is very similar to that.
Now if the child is under five years of age, no good doctor will medicate them, they're too young, there is the possibility they will calm down by the age of five, not likely but there's always the possibility. As the parent you think they will spin out of orbit by the age of five and if that doesn't happen you are considering medicating yourself.
What causes this insanity, what did we (as parents) do wrong? Who knows, maybe nothing, maybe drugs, maybe deep depression or some traumatic experience and maybe it just happened. There's so much research on the subject you could spin the wheel and pick an answer. There are so many variables and none of them make any of us feel better, not one of them. And even if you understand the problem it doesn't make it go away.
ADD kids are awesome. They're intelligent and quick physically and mentally. When I had my day care center we were doing 2nd and 3rd grade social studies and science projects with these kids. They were not reading yet although very close, but they loved the projects, the harder they were the more interested they became and the more they learned. When they went into kindergarten the schools knew where they came from and they knew they had already gone through the kindergarten curriculum, some of them twice and they ate it up. And quick, you couldn't get anything passed them, I mean nothing, but that was okay they deserved the respect and honest dialogue that every person deserves, but they did not like being talked down to as though they were babies, they were smart and they knew it.
One of my ex-employees has a three year old boy, I believe he's probably Thing 1, very ADD. He runs circles in my yard slams car doors runs to the back door to the back fence and starts all over again. He never huffs or puffs, he just keeps going. I watched him for a long time, he would run so fast he'd fall several times and get back up and keep going. He'd ask the same questions over and over again, never hearing the answer. By the time he did it was time for the next question and then some laps around the yard and slam some doors. The mother's blood pressure never seems under complete control and she self medicates to keep a good attitude. When she doesn't she's screaming and screaming and screaming, I think all the neighbors know his name. He won't drink coffee, so that home remedy was out, he drinks regular mountain dew sometimes but it didn't seem to work. Finally, I told her give him a teaspoon of the five hour energy drink lets see how he does.
Poof! He completed a sentence, he actually completed a thought. He sat and ate lunch, his whole lunch. He got up and washed his hands. He walked through the house, didn't run, just walked. He went outside to play and actually sat down for a few minutes. He talked, he said please and thank you and listened to other people talking. He didn't slow down too much, just to a normal pace and amazingly, he took an afternoon nap, a small one but still a nap. And mom wasn't screaming.
Now that she has her solution can you imagine if there was no five hour energy drink in the land? Like anywhere? Looting in the streets a wild crime spree all committed by a poor mother of an ADD child in search of her remedy.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
March 2, 2013
It's amazing how ending a marriage can affect a person. Even if it's a bad marriage, filled with verbal and physical abuse, neglect and lonliness, the old saying that it's easier to stay in the mess you know than to be alone is very applicable.
Change is hard, really hard. Breaking old habits is a hard exercise in discipline, just like staying on a diet or getting up early it takes discipline and time. Getting out of a bad marriage is devastating, even if you didn't like the person, it's devastating. And why is that? Why is being miserable, unhappy, lonely and unfulfilled better than making the break, gaining your freedom and your self and quite possibly your children? Because it's hard and it's the unknown and we're not even sure if we can survive alone or face all the issues life throws at us without someone there. But they're really not there and we are becoming co-dependent, that disease that you thought was only affecting the OTHER person has unknowingly crept into your brain and your heart and affected you, Oh God! But we don't know that, all we know is that we're not sure if we'll be okay alone, all alone, facing everything alone. Did I say alone? Yup alone.
Now there's no one to blame but yourself for the mistakes you make. Of course there is the cloud of debri floating around your head like a thick fog that won't let you see clearly or feel anything. It's like that thick fog when the ship's at sea, looking for the lighthouse it can't see hoping it doesn't hit the break or ram into rocks. Where the hell is the lighthouse!!!!! This is not our fault someone did this to us we are victims, we didn't prepetuate anything, we were trying to save a marriage (a piece of shit marriage, sorry) and we couldn't paddle hard enough and fast enough for both people so we ended up going in circles. And then pretty soon there are holes in the boat and you can't plug the holes and paddle the boat on both sides and oh my God how did this happen!!!
How does this happen? You meet someone he seems okay, maybe you're in love, maybe you're not but you did sleep with him and everyone knows the two of you together so it's the right thing, right? He's decent, you're decent it should work. And then it doesn't. Why????? Drugs, alcohol, betrayal, disinterest, selfishness, hoarding (which of course is a symptom of more personal issues), working nonstop, just any number of issues. You can fix yourself, as much as is possible, however, when the other person isn't interested then you're still stuck paddling alone, how can you fix this??? How can you make it better so that the other person will be a better person and change, maybe consider you somehow, maybe be sensitive and pick up the other oar. You can't. You are left with a choice, live the way you are living or leave.
Look I've read self help books, advice colums, how to manipulate him by working on your columns and.......really?? Sometimes, they like the boat that they don't have to row, they like that you're paddling for both and they enjoy the little nest they have made (manipulated) at your expense.
So, against the advice of the clergy, your mother-in-law, and other people who do not know your life, you leave. Leaving isn't bad it's how you leave. Many times when you have become co-dependent you need another dependent to make the transition, greeeat, another mistake waiting to happen. Sometimes, you leave and you just lose your mind, partying, drinking and trying to forget (oh wait I had kids somewhere didn't I ?), mistake. So how do you leave??? You leave. And then you slow down, love your kids, love you, give it time, walk though your days and maybe you get some counseling. After all divorce or breakups rank right up there with a death in the family. You pray, pray and pray some more. You cry, cry and you cry some more, it does stop. The sun does shine, the flowers smell good and your kids can be your best friends and you treat yourself well, really well.
I realize that when we were little and our dog died, most of our parents immediately went out and got us another dog. Don't do that. Of course we all want to be loved and in love and valued and appreciated, unfortunately, we should love ourselves first, know ourselves and value ourselves first, we won't set standards that others will have to follow, we will allow anything into our lives, we can't do that. We can't show that to our children, we can't leave that legacy. So many times in those toxic relationships we never even took the time to know what we liked, we don't even know what we like, did we like anything, except for the other one to shut up and go away. We liked that, we liked quiet. We liked sitting at a peaceful meal, even if it was alone, that we liked. We liked being able to watch a movie without screaming or the other walking in asking for money so they could go get high, since they already spent what money they had.
Let the fog clear, as the Word says "pursue peace" definitely pursue peace. Learn who you are, what you like, who your kids are, because afterall, while you were suviving the mess, they got lost in the fallout. Learn just how capable you really are, you will find a job, you will have a life and then down the road, you will have love if you want it. But do not take your fog and debri and invite another person into it.
It's amazing how ending a marriage can affect a person. Even if it's a bad marriage, filled with verbal and physical abuse, neglect and lonliness, the old saying that it's easier to stay in the mess you know than to be alone is very applicable.
Change is hard, really hard. Breaking old habits is a hard exercise in discipline, just like staying on a diet or getting up early it takes discipline and time. Getting out of a bad marriage is devastating, even if you didn't like the person, it's devastating. And why is that? Why is being miserable, unhappy, lonely and unfulfilled better than making the break, gaining your freedom and your self and quite possibly your children? Because it's hard and it's the unknown and we're not even sure if we can survive alone or face all the issues life throws at us without someone there. But they're really not there and we are becoming co-dependent, that disease that you thought was only affecting the OTHER person has unknowingly crept into your brain and your heart and affected you, Oh God! But we don't know that, all we know is that we're not sure if we'll be okay alone, all alone, facing everything alone. Did I say alone? Yup alone.
Now there's no one to blame but yourself for the mistakes you make. Of course there is the cloud of debri floating around your head like a thick fog that won't let you see clearly or feel anything. It's like that thick fog when the ship's at sea, looking for the lighthouse it can't see hoping it doesn't hit the break or ram into rocks. Where the hell is the lighthouse!!!!! This is not our fault someone did this to us we are victims, we didn't prepetuate anything, we were trying to save a marriage (a piece of shit marriage, sorry) and we couldn't paddle hard enough and fast enough for both people so we ended up going in circles. And then pretty soon there are holes in the boat and you can't plug the holes and paddle the boat on both sides and oh my God how did this happen!!!
How does this happen? You meet someone he seems okay, maybe you're in love, maybe you're not but you did sleep with him and everyone knows the two of you together so it's the right thing, right? He's decent, you're decent it should work. And then it doesn't. Why????? Drugs, alcohol, betrayal, disinterest, selfishness, hoarding (which of course is a symptom of more personal issues), working nonstop, just any number of issues. You can fix yourself, as much as is possible, however, when the other person isn't interested then you're still stuck paddling alone, how can you fix this??? How can you make it better so that the other person will be a better person and change, maybe consider you somehow, maybe be sensitive and pick up the other oar. You can't. You are left with a choice, live the way you are living or leave.
Look I've read self help books, advice colums, how to manipulate him by working on your columns and.......really?? Sometimes, they like the boat that they don't have to row, they like that you're paddling for both and they enjoy the little nest they have made (manipulated) at your expense.
So, against the advice of the clergy, your mother-in-law, and other people who do not know your life, you leave. Leaving isn't bad it's how you leave. Many times when you have become co-dependent you need another dependent to make the transition, greeeat, another mistake waiting to happen. Sometimes, you leave and you just lose your mind, partying, drinking and trying to forget (oh wait I had kids somewhere didn't I ?), mistake. So how do you leave??? You leave. And then you slow down, love your kids, love you, give it time, walk though your days and maybe you get some counseling. After all divorce or breakups rank right up there with a death in the family. You pray, pray and pray some more. You cry, cry and you cry some more, it does stop. The sun does shine, the flowers smell good and your kids can be your best friends and you treat yourself well, really well.
I realize that when we were little and our dog died, most of our parents immediately went out and got us another dog. Don't do that. Of course we all want to be loved and in love and valued and appreciated, unfortunately, we should love ourselves first, know ourselves and value ourselves first, we won't set standards that others will have to follow, we will allow anything into our lives, we can't do that. We can't show that to our children, we can't leave that legacy. So many times in those toxic relationships we never even took the time to know what we liked, we don't even know what we like, did we like anything, except for the other one to shut up and go away. We liked that, we liked quiet. We liked sitting at a peaceful meal, even if it was alone, that we liked. We liked being able to watch a movie without screaming or the other walking in asking for money so they could go get high, since they already spent what money they had.
Let the fog clear, as the Word says "pursue peace" definitely pursue peace. Learn who you are, what you like, who your kids are, because afterall, while you were suviving the mess, they got lost in the fallout. Learn just how capable you really are, you will find a job, you will have a life and then down the road, you will have love if you want it. But do not take your fog and debri and invite another person into it.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)