To this day, I can't seem to say Chicken Catchatori. You know the recipe, with tomato sauce, deliciously seasoned with herbs and over a bed of rice perhaps? Anyways, I find it oddly funny that no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to say it, it always comes out Kitchen and what ever happens to come out and be mangled after that.
So today, I am making Kitchen Scratchatory. We opened a bottle of Zin from a winery down the road and I have Billi Holiday playing in the background. Awesome! I can't think of a better way to wind down and let everything all go.
I feel like this part of my life is called, "Starting Over". It fits so well because I am emotionally taking down those mental boxes I've packed away and I am finally going through them. Granted it will take me a long time to finish, but I am pleased to be making progress. Also, physically in my backyard we took out all the old dirt in my planter/garden retaining wall which consisted of mainly shale and clay and finally replacing it with beautiful home made compost from a friend with a farm. It is this beautiful dark brown almost black in color. It will sit for another month in and a half and settle and finish doing what it needs to do. Then the heirloom tomatos will be planted.
I can not express enough my love for homegrown heirloom tomatos. They are heaven!
Anyways, today I feel great. I feel like my meds are working wonderfully and finally I can feel the effects. I also have been working physically to exert myself and burn off some of that wasted energy. That in itself makes me feel better. I just want to be consistent in that area. On top of it all, I feel like I have a better understanding of myself. I feel like the past year has really taught me a lot about who I am, and what I am capable off. The self control that I have is immense, despite the fact that I feel like I might blow like a volcano, I never do. Simple as that, though my body is flipping out inside at times, I seem to keep myself from going over the edge of sanity. Keep in mind I might be very upset I just seems to have a slight grip on reality that keeps me grounded and coming back to earth. I guess I feel empowered to know what I am capable of. Though I am not capable of some things, I am capable of some. I do have some talents and abilities. I hope that they can grow.
So....I feel great. Doing great today and hoping this new sense of empowerment sticks around.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Confused about boundaries!
I am realizing that I attract friendships that are somewhat toxic. I wondered so many times, "Why in the world is this happening to me.", and then it would happen again, and again. And so here I am AGAIN! I am finding that a friendship is toxic. I am not sure how it becomes this way, but it does. Is it the person I pick and that we are a poor match? Do I create toxicity with in my own brain (more likely then not), or is the for the simple reason of not having boundaries? I always thought that the best deepest friendships had no limits, and no boundaries. That lives intermingled in one smooth flow. It certainly does not. I will tell you that! I have had several very deep relationships and they were not smooth flowing.
So where do the issues form? Where are the roots? I can't dig them out and replant if I don't know whats wrong. Is it the soil? The water, not enough or too much? I am so confused it's impossible to see a pathway out right now. So for now I decided to sit tight, and let things ride out. I'd really not like to loose this friendship, but I feel like it's in the hot seat for now. It makes me sad. It terrifies me in ways I can not even explain. Loosing a friendship for me is like a Vet, having to reenter war in Viet Nam. Thats seriously how painful it is for me. The first friendship I had was like loosing part of myself. As if someone cut my Siamese twin off my own body with out any anesthetics or pain reliever. It hurt, it nearly killed me. I can still cry today if I let myself think about it. On the positive note, I know the loss had to happen. The friendship simply could not continue the way it was going and neither of us were able to change. It wasn't that we didn't want to, we just couldn't.
So here I am trying to detox my friendship, and I find that as soon as I draw this boundary or invisible line, the person flips out. I feel sometimes like they also cross the line and become hurtful, then when I call them out on it, they pretend that I am being, "to sensitive". I don't know how I could be too sensitive on this subject, because anyone would find these things hurtful. I know I am not over-reacting.
So how to set up boundaries? That is the question. Where do I put the line? Where do I put up the wall and where do I put up the land mines? Seriously?? What the heck do I do with my chalk? I've got the pavement laid out, but I have no idea where to put my boundaries. All I know is that I need to work on myself, I need to be healthy myself inside and out. And I can not be worried about someone else or even what someone else is thinking. All I need to do is focus on myself. What makes me feel good mentally and physically.
Right now I am working on my quality of life.
As for this friendship, perhaps I will talk to her about things and see what her side is looking like, cause from my point of view it's all crooked.
Think happy thoughts for me, because it's like having to open the closet door when you know that Freddie Crougar is on the other side!
So where do the issues form? Where are the roots? I can't dig them out and replant if I don't know whats wrong. Is it the soil? The water, not enough or too much? I am so confused it's impossible to see a pathway out right now. So for now I decided to sit tight, and let things ride out. I'd really not like to loose this friendship, but I feel like it's in the hot seat for now. It makes me sad. It terrifies me in ways I can not even explain. Loosing a friendship for me is like a Vet, having to reenter war in Viet Nam. Thats seriously how painful it is for me. The first friendship I had was like loosing part of myself. As if someone cut my Siamese twin off my own body with out any anesthetics or pain reliever. It hurt, it nearly killed me. I can still cry today if I let myself think about it. On the positive note, I know the loss had to happen. The friendship simply could not continue the way it was going and neither of us were able to change. It wasn't that we didn't want to, we just couldn't.
So here I am trying to detox my friendship, and I find that as soon as I draw this boundary or invisible line, the person flips out. I feel sometimes like they also cross the line and become hurtful, then when I call them out on it, they pretend that I am being, "to sensitive". I don't know how I could be too sensitive on this subject, because anyone would find these things hurtful. I know I am not over-reacting.
So how to set up boundaries? That is the question. Where do I put the line? Where do I put up the wall and where do I put up the land mines? Seriously?? What the heck do I do with my chalk? I've got the pavement laid out, but I have no idea where to put my boundaries. All I know is that I need to work on myself, I need to be healthy myself inside and out. And I can not be worried about someone else or even what someone else is thinking. All I need to do is focus on myself. What makes me feel good mentally and physically.
Right now I am working on my quality of life.
As for this friendship, perhaps I will talk to her about things and see what her side is looking like, cause from my point of view it's all crooked.
Think happy thoughts for me, because it's like having to open the closet door when you know that Freddie Crougar is on the other side!
Monday, February 22, 2010
Returning from Ohio I realized...
When I flew to Ohio for my husband's Grandma's Funeral, I half expected heart ache and pain. Not mainly for the loss we had just been forced to accept, but I expected the family to hurt one another. From my experiances, death changes people, and changes relationships. I expected some one to hurt us deeply. As the days crept by we attended the viewing and family meals. My husband threw snappy remarks my way and I caught them with a twinge of pain. Someone else in the family, hurt someone else, and then I got hurt again, but my Mother in-law, who on any given day, we act like mother and daughter. She merely made me feel stupid for not knowing how to iron a suit. For the record, I don't iron. The only things I have ever ironed came out with creases in the wrong spot, and ended up looking worse then it started off as. So, I don't iron. And I certainly don't iron a suit that is borrowed. All of these things were little, but big in the scheme of things because of what each of us were dealing with on our own plate.
P.S. The ice-cycles could be used as weapons over there!!!!! I didn't know that God made them so big!!
It occurred to me on the flight home, after I was able to talk to the people who caused me to be hurt that, yes death does change people. In fact it changes people in a way we can't even imagine. What makes a good strong family is if and how they pull out of those little hurtful things. We were able to talk about it and after things were put to rest it seemed to lift off the weight it once held. We seemed to meet on the other side. Stronger then ever before.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Spilling my life out on Paper or Plastic?
So one reason why I wanted to start this blog, was not only to face my fears and accept who I was, but to teach others about my life. There are some difficult things to talk about in my past that cut me to the core. I didn't really know when I would bring this area up of my life, but I felt maybe I might be able to right now.
So another sleepless night comes upon me. Not by choice trust me. I have a cold and took a generic brand of nighttime cold liquid, well, I'm still awake. So that tells you just about how good that works. So here I am again, awake with you. Spilling my life out on paper or, plastic?
When I was around 16 I got caught up on the online chatting. I became addicted, I guess thats what they call it these days. I spent hours and hours online talking to strangers with no faces. I grew relationships with people who I'd never met. I looked forward to talking to them every day. This developed over a period of time of 6 months or so. I remember one time in particular that I realized I had "a problem" was when I spent 13 hours straight online at a friends house who I was house sitting for, and I didn't realize they paid by the min. So, you can see how this would be a problem. Thats how long ago this was too. Paid for internet by the min. Wow. I feel old. I had to pay back part or all of that money back.
Anyways, I developed a relationship with this guy who was 6 years older then me. At the time he lived in Manchester, England. He supposedly went to a University to learn textiles. What ever that means I don't even know. Fabrics I guess? Honestly, I may talk to you and tell you about this person as if he was a real human being. Thats how my body knows this situation, as real and tangible. So here I went and embarked into this online relationship with this man who was older and in a different country. Of course it started out as a friendship, but emotions and time shared made the relationship seem like it was something it wasn't. I spent many late night hours online chatting with him. We spoke sometimes on the phone. I would buy calling cards to call him, in order to hide it when needed. We also exchanged mail. Even though it's been nearly a decade of hearing his voice, it still sounds clear in my head. It's quite disturbing actually.
It wasn't long that he isolated me from the world. I started to drift away from my friends and pulled away so much so that I really had no friends for the last 2 years of my high school career. The only friends I had were people who didn't know me enough to know how far off the deep end I had gone.I would also go to the library and check my e-mail. I could not be away from that darn machine. It seemed to fallow me with it's cord and haunt me everywhere I went. Literally. I would get anxious and go through with drawls if I didn't have access to online after a period of time. I would schedule what little life I had, around him, and chatting with him. For many purposes I will call this person, Joe. This is not his name. But Joe seems easy enough for now.
Turns out Joe was from Pakistan. He was also a devout Muslim, or so he claimed. I knew this when I entered into a "committed" relationship with him. I told him that I didn't believe in that religion. In the beginning he said that it was alright. I mean I was Christian, he was Muslim. Things got to the point where there were getting "serious"... and I say that with a grain of salt for the fact is that I never met the man. But in the same breath, I know the seriousness of where it could have put me today. So well into the relationship I asked if he would be able to marry me and take me as who I was, Christian and all. He said plainly, "No." in a heartbroken way. He sounded as if he wanted to, but couldn't. I didn't like hearing him hurt or in any shape or form of dislike. It seemed to twist me inside and I did what ever I could to take away that dislike.
So, I learned about the Quran. It makes me sick to this day that I know more about the Quran then the Bible. I've been trying, and doing my best to learn about the Bible. But, I seem to have a mental block now about taking in new religious learning such as this. Anyways, I met this other Muslim online who was from New York. He taught me Islam via live chat. We typed, I asked questions, he answered. It went on for hours, and days. Tutoring me. Teaching me, and he also played a part in brainwashing me. I often wondered if these two people knew each other, and I was just a sick game. They were sort of like a team. It's so hard to explain this. Say for example, I would ask a question about how their religion viewed say... smoking. Well, Joe would say, "smoking is bad for you Melanie. I don't want my baby to smoke. Would you want me to smoke and be unhealthy?" He always pulled that. That whiny sad voice of his. *shutters* He turned everything around and asked me if I would want him to do that. Which was besides the point really. But, then say the New York Tutor, would say, "Islam views your body as a Temple. Allah wants you to treat your body like a temple.". And so I did just that....
I always had trouble with Trinity in Christianity. Islam did not have trinity. It was God ( Allah), and Mohammad (the Prophet), but honestly I have no issues with Trinity now. I fully completely understand it more then I ever did. But after learning everything I had about Islam, I decided this was my new belief system. This is what I believed. I was a Muslim. I revoked my belief in Christianity, and accepted Islam as my new faith. Swallow that....................... cause I can't.
When people ask me about that period of my time, all I can say is that I was brainwashed. I was modern day brainwashed really honestly and truly. It was done from long distance. I have chunks of my memory just gone and disappeared. The only reason I know things happened that I can't remember is photos, items, or other people telling me things that I should really know. And I don't remember anything. There isn't even blackness.... there just isn't anything there to remember. Gone, vanished, vacant.
Things got so serious that there were times that I was fully prepared to fly out to Pakistan to stay for a summer or something. Thank God that I never made it that far. Thank God that I was poor and couldn't afford a flight ticket. Thank God that he didn't have the guts and kahonas to come out to meet me. Thats all I can say really. Thank God.
Had I had the means to go through with meeting him, I would probably be stuck in Pakistan right now, wrapped up and draped in clothing and forced to live my life how they choose. Maybe I would have learned the reality of things, maybe I wouldn't have. All I know is I could be surrounded by war and stuck in a kitchen making curry and have 5 kids hanging off my hip. It's scary when I think about it, and so I do my best not to think about it. - Maybe thats why I can't remember anything?
When I went to college, I "took" him with me. We continued our relationship while only 2 hours from my childhood home. Still he never came to meet me but was able to continue his hold on me even though I left home. His hold on me was so tight that I also became vegetarian. Not for the popular reason why back then, but because I couldn't find meat in my small town that was "halal", which really just means "blessed". And from what I gather, it means just that, a prayer said over it. However, I will also tell you that their is other secret and silent implementations that go along with, "halal". To this day, I am not even sure about it and don't care to know. I was a very strict vegetarian. I didn't even eat french fries that were fried in the same oil as meat. Nothing touched it.
I started to go to a Mosque in the big city where my college was. The women there were loving, open and welcoming. I felt like they were clamoring for me to be apart of their world and family. I had offers for, "Marriage" and relationships with "so and so's son", but I was already committed to my imaginary boyfriend online.
Part of me would like to say that this was when I saw the darkest parts of civilization. But it didn't begin here. It began a few years before, when I first got onto that computer and met Joe. There were many things that added up. Such as seeing a slaughtered goat or lamb, or what ever it was laying on the porch of this home with flies all around it. They were going to eat it, even though there were flies. The people who lived at this particular house the with the dead animal on the front porch didn't flush the toilet. There was gross remnants in there from the previous 5 visits or so. Gross, and in humane if you ask me. Needless to say, it only took one visit for me to not return to that home.
Then there was my beautiful friend. She was 15, and so kind and innocent. I really loved her with part of my heart. The kindness, I just can not quiet explain. She was humble and accepting. I may even have been friends with her today had it not been for the circumstances of our lives. She had beautiful long thick black hair. She wore a black dress outfit that covered her from head to toe. Nothing of her skin was able to be seen besides what you could see through a 1 inch slit across her eyes that measured about 6 inches wide. She even wore gloves. How on earth she manages to be in a summer heat wave of 108degrees I will never understand. Anyways, this was one of the cruelest things I had experiences from my point of view. She ran past doorways, and was even unable to occupy the same space as her father with out that formal dress attire. Even when she was at church and wore that attire, she would run past a slit in the door (like the glass kind you have in elementary school classrooms) afraid that she would be seen by the, "Mens" as she called them. The men and women were separated into two different parts of the Mosque. Men in the front with the speaker, and woman in back with the "speakers". The mans voice up front was sent through wires and speakers to the back room so we could all hear.
I took Arabic classes at that mosque, and though it would have been of great use for translating now, I have forgotten nearly all of it but bits and pieces. Joe told me he wanted me to learn Arabic so I could read the Quaran in it's true form, but honestly, I think it was just another way to get inside my head.
I also learned to pray like a Muslim. I learned the movements, and words, and etiquette. I washed my feet, hands, and face before prayer just as they did. In fact, thats where I think I picked up athletes foot, but what ever. I never had a problem with my feet before that point in my life. I even fasted for Ramadan just as they did.
I pretty much did everything for his approval. To be a "good wife" in the future.
I finally met someone who I enjoyed, trusted, and became friends with. As our friendship grew into something that was real, and I actually was spending real physical time with this person, I started to get sick of my old Joe. I started to see through some things, but not at all nearly what I should have. What I mainly saw was that he promised to come out to meet met several times, and canceled every single time. I was sick of waiting in my mind. So I ended it with Joe. The best adult decision of my entire life.
3 years of my life wasted with Joe
4 years of vegetarianism
countless tears
countless anxieties
athletes foot
Brainwashing= Priceless
Thank God for my new soon to be boyfriend.
To this day, the thought of this time in my life brings me discomfort on different levels. If I see an object that I thought I got rid of, it sends panic through my body. It disturbs me.
Lost word here--- I am absolutely not accusing a whole group of people of anything. This was my individualized experience with this particular person. Although YES, it has created fears with in my own self, and rightfully so. I have experiences a lot of trauma by this relationship and time in my life. My goal is not for you to feel those fears with me. This is my life, and mine alone. Only I need to walk the path. Thank you for staying open minded and listening.
So another sleepless night comes upon me. Not by choice trust me. I have a cold and took a generic brand of nighttime cold liquid, well, I'm still awake. So that tells you just about how good that works. So here I am again, awake with you. Spilling my life out on paper or, plastic?
When I was around 16 I got caught up on the online chatting. I became addicted, I guess thats what they call it these days. I spent hours and hours online talking to strangers with no faces. I grew relationships with people who I'd never met. I looked forward to talking to them every day. This developed over a period of time of 6 months or so. I remember one time in particular that I realized I had "a problem" was when I spent 13 hours straight online at a friends house who I was house sitting for, and I didn't realize they paid by the min. So, you can see how this would be a problem. Thats how long ago this was too. Paid for internet by the min. Wow. I feel old. I had to pay back part or all of that money back.
Anyways, I developed a relationship with this guy who was 6 years older then me. At the time he lived in Manchester, England. He supposedly went to a University to learn textiles. What ever that means I don't even know. Fabrics I guess? Honestly, I may talk to you and tell you about this person as if he was a real human being. Thats how my body knows this situation, as real and tangible. So here I went and embarked into this online relationship with this man who was older and in a different country. Of course it started out as a friendship, but emotions and time shared made the relationship seem like it was something it wasn't. I spent many late night hours online chatting with him. We spoke sometimes on the phone. I would buy calling cards to call him, in order to hide it when needed. We also exchanged mail. Even though it's been nearly a decade of hearing his voice, it still sounds clear in my head. It's quite disturbing actually.
It wasn't long that he isolated me from the world. I started to drift away from my friends and pulled away so much so that I really had no friends for the last 2 years of my high school career. The only friends I had were people who didn't know me enough to know how far off the deep end I had gone.I would also go to the library and check my e-mail. I could not be away from that darn machine. It seemed to fallow me with it's cord and haunt me everywhere I went. Literally. I would get anxious and go through with drawls if I didn't have access to online after a period of time. I would schedule what little life I had, around him, and chatting with him. For many purposes I will call this person, Joe. This is not his name. But Joe seems easy enough for now.
Turns out Joe was from Pakistan. He was also a devout Muslim, or so he claimed. I knew this when I entered into a "committed" relationship with him. I told him that I didn't believe in that religion. In the beginning he said that it was alright. I mean I was Christian, he was Muslim. Things got to the point where there were getting "serious"... and I say that with a grain of salt for the fact is that I never met the man. But in the same breath, I know the seriousness of where it could have put me today. So well into the relationship I asked if he would be able to marry me and take me as who I was, Christian and all. He said plainly, "No." in a heartbroken way. He sounded as if he wanted to, but couldn't. I didn't like hearing him hurt or in any shape or form of dislike. It seemed to twist me inside and I did what ever I could to take away that dislike.
So, I learned about the Quran. It makes me sick to this day that I know more about the Quran then the Bible. I've been trying, and doing my best to learn about the Bible. But, I seem to have a mental block now about taking in new religious learning such as this. Anyways, I met this other Muslim online who was from New York. He taught me Islam via live chat. We typed, I asked questions, he answered. It went on for hours, and days. Tutoring me. Teaching me, and he also played a part in brainwashing me. I often wondered if these two people knew each other, and I was just a sick game. They were sort of like a team. It's so hard to explain this. Say for example, I would ask a question about how their religion viewed say... smoking. Well, Joe would say, "smoking is bad for you Melanie. I don't want my baby to smoke. Would you want me to smoke and be unhealthy?" He always pulled that. That whiny sad voice of his. *shutters* He turned everything around and asked me if I would want him to do that. Which was besides the point really. But, then say the New York Tutor, would say, "Islam views your body as a Temple. Allah wants you to treat your body like a temple.". And so I did just that....
I always had trouble with Trinity in Christianity. Islam did not have trinity. It was God ( Allah), and Mohammad (the Prophet), but honestly I have no issues with Trinity now. I fully completely understand it more then I ever did. But after learning everything I had about Islam, I decided this was my new belief system. This is what I believed. I was a Muslim. I revoked my belief in Christianity, and accepted Islam as my new faith. Swallow that....................... cause I can't.
When people ask me about that period of my time, all I can say is that I was brainwashed. I was modern day brainwashed really honestly and truly. It was done from long distance. I have chunks of my memory just gone and disappeared. The only reason I know things happened that I can't remember is photos, items, or other people telling me things that I should really know. And I don't remember anything. There isn't even blackness.... there just isn't anything there to remember. Gone, vanished, vacant.
Things got so serious that there were times that I was fully prepared to fly out to Pakistan to stay for a summer or something. Thank God that I never made it that far. Thank God that I was poor and couldn't afford a flight ticket. Thank God that he didn't have the guts and kahonas to come out to meet me. Thats all I can say really. Thank God.
Had I had the means to go through with meeting him, I would probably be stuck in Pakistan right now, wrapped up and draped in clothing and forced to live my life how they choose. Maybe I would have learned the reality of things, maybe I wouldn't have. All I know is I could be surrounded by war and stuck in a kitchen making curry and have 5 kids hanging off my hip. It's scary when I think about it, and so I do my best not to think about it. - Maybe thats why I can't remember anything?
When I went to college, I "took" him with me. We continued our relationship while only 2 hours from my childhood home. Still he never came to meet me but was able to continue his hold on me even though I left home. His hold on me was so tight that I also became vegetarian. Not for the popular reason why back then, but because I couldn't find meat in my small town that was "halal", which really just means "blessed". And from what I gather, it means just that, a prayer said over it. However, I will also tell you that their is other secret and silent implementations that go along with, "halal". To this day, I am not even sure about it and don't care to know. I was a very strict vegetarian. I didn't even eat french fries that were fried in the same oil as meat. Nothing touched it.
I started to go to a Mosque in the big city where my college was. The women there were loving, open and welcoming. I felt like they were clamoring for me to be apart of their world and family. I had offers for, "Marriage" and relationships with "so and so's son", but I was already committed to my imaginary boyfriend online.
Part of me would like to say that this was when I saw the darkest parts of civilization. But it didn't begin here. It began a few years before, when I first got onto that computer and met Joe. There were many things that added up. Such as seeing a slaughtered goat or lamb, or what ever it was laying on the porch of this home with flies all around it. They were going to eat it, even though there were flies. The people who lived at this particular house the with the dead animal on the front porch didn't flush the toilet. There was gross remnants in there from the previous 5 visits or so. Gross, and in humane if you ask me. Needless to say, it only took one visit for me to not return to that home.
Then there was my beautiful friend. She was 15, and so kind and innocent. I really loved her with part of my heart. The kindness, I just can not quiet explain. She was humble and accepting. I may even have been friends with her today had it not been for the circumstances of our lives. She had beautiful long thick black hair. She wore a black dress outfit that covered her from head to toe. Nothing of her skin was able to be seen besides what you could see through a 1 inch slit across her eyes that measured about 6 inches wide. She even wore gloves. How on earth she manages to be in a summer heat wave of 108degrees I will never understand. Anyways, this was one of the cruelest things I had experiences from my point of view. She ran past doorways, and was even unable to occupy the same space as her father with out that formal dress attire. Even when she was at church and wore that attire, she would run past a slit in the door (like the glass kind you have in elementary school classrooms) afraid that she would be seen by the, "Mens" as she called them. The men and women were separated into two different parts of the Mosque. Men in the front with the speaker, and woman in back with the "speakers". The mans voice up front was sent through wires and speakers to the back room so we could all hear.
I took Arabic classes at that mosque, and though it would have been of great use for translating now, I have forgotten nearly all of it but bits and pieces. Joe told me he wanted me to learn Arabic so I could read the Quaran in it's true form, but honestly, I think it was just another way to get inside my head.
I also learned to pray like a Muslim. I learned the movements, and words, and etiquette. I washed my feet, hands, and face before prayer just as they did. In fact, thats where I think I picked up athletes foot, but what ever. I never had a problem with my feet before that point in my life. I even fasted for Ramadan just as they did.
I pretty much did everything for his approval. To be a "good wife" in the future.
I finally met someone who I enjoyed, trusted, and became friends with. As our friendship grew into something that was real, and I actually was spending real physical time with this person, I started to get sick of my old Joe. I started to see through some things, but not at all nearly what I should have. What I mainly saw was that he promised to come out to meet met several times, and canceled every single time. I was sick of waiting in my mind. So I ended it with Joe. The best adult decision of my entire life.
3 years of my life wasted with Joe
4 years of vegetarianism
countless tears
countless anxieties
athletes foot
Brainwashing= Priceless
Thank God for my new soon to be boyfriend.
To this day, the thought of this time in my life brings me discomfort on different levels. If I see an object that I thought I got rid of, it sends panic through my body. It disturbs me.
Lost word here--- I am absolutely not accusing a whole group of people of anything. This was my individualized experience with this particular person. Although YES, it has created fears with in my own self, and rightfully so. I have experiences a lot of trauma by this relationship and time in my life. My goal is not for you to feel those fears with me. This is my life, and mine alone. Only I need to walk the path. Thank you for staying open minded and listening.
Friday, February 12, 2010
P.S. Changed some layouts
Just and FYI, I fixed the viability of the poll. I couldn't change just that individual text, but found that I could change the background color. Yay, for working the system!
I also messed with the font size and styles a bit through out the blog. I found this made it easier on the eyes while reading. Hope you enjoy it! :)
I also messed with the font size and styles a bit through out the blog. I found this made it easier on the eyes while reading. Hope you enjoy it! :)
Mental Illness VS Homlessness
PERSONS WITH MENTAL ILLNESS
Persons with severe mental illness represented about 26 percent of all sheltered homeless persons (Annual Homeless Assessment Report to Congress, 2008). According to the Federal Task Force on Homelessness and Severe Mental Illness, only 5-7% of homeless persons with mental illness require institutionalization; most can live in the community with the appropriate supportive housing options (Federal Task Force on Homelessness and Severe Mental Illness, 1992). For more information, see our fact sheet on Mental Illness and Homelessness. The 23 cities that provided information reported that 26 percent of their homeless population suffered from a serious mental illness. By contrast, only six percent of the U.S. population suffers from a serious mental illness (U.S. Conference of Mayors 2008).Data collected from National Homeless Coalition
Mental Illness and Homelessness
Published by the National Coalition for the Homeless, July 2009
PREVALENCE
According to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, 20 to 25% of the homeless population in the United States suffers from some form of severe mental illness. In comparison, only 6% of Americans are severely mentally ill (National Institute of Mental Health, 2009). In a 2008 survey performed by the U.S. Conference of Mayors, 25 cities were asked for the three largest causes of homelessness in their communities. Mental illness was the third largest cause of homelessness for single adults (mentioned by 48% of cities). For homeless families, mental illness was mentioned by 12% of cities as one of the top 3 causes of homelessness.
RELATIONSHIP TO HOMELESSNESS
Serious mental illnesses disrupt people’s ability to carry out essential aspects of daily life, such as self care and household management. Mental illnesses may also prevent people from forming and maintaining stable relationships or cause people to misinterpret others’ guidance and react irrationally. This often results in pushing away caregivers, family, and friends who may be the force keeping that person from becoming homeless. As a result of these factors and the stresses of living with a mental disorder, people with mentally illnesses are much more likely to become homeless than the general population (Library Index, 2009). A study of people with serious mental illnesses seen by California’s public mental health system found that 15% were homeless at least once in a one-year period (Folsom et al., 2005). Patients with schizophrenia or bipolar disorder are particularly vulnerable.
Poor mental health may also affect physical health, especially for people who are homeless. Mental illness may cause people to neglect taking the necessary precautions against disease. When combined with inadequate hygiene due to homelessness, this may lead to physical problems such as respiratory infections, skin diseases, or exposure to tuberculosis or HIV. In addition, half of the mentally ill homeless population in the United States also suffers from substance abuse and dependence (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration). Minorities, especially African Americans, are over-represented in this group. Some mentally ill people self-medicate using street drugs, which can lead not only to addictions, but also to disease transmission from injection drug use. This combination of mental illness, substance abuse, and poor physical health makes it very difficult for people to obtain employment and residential stability.
Data Collected from National Homeless Coalition
My friend and I discussed today how expensive medications are for people who have Mental Illnesses and need them desperately. For example, the medication that makes me feel my best is also $1,000 for a one month supply (30 pills). Are you kidding me? Seriously???? When most likely our income is less then the working average because we can't keep a job, or maintain a full time job? So, you're saying that I need to use my entire paycheck if I'm lucky I even get that much, just to be healthy in my head?..... where do I live? .... what do I eat then?.....
These are questions I've been forced to ask myself. I've actually CONSIDERED spending that $1,000 on that one monthly supply. Thats how desperate I was to feel well. I've been on countless other medications, and I even lived on samples for a long period of time with this medication, but recently the supply of samples have diminished. I couldn't count on them anymore.
So I opted for the lesser cost of the medications. I also ended up with severe muscle pain and constant muscle contraction in my face. I thought I was going to go blind at one point. I had to go to several doctors visits just to figure out why I was gagging, and why my vision was blurry and my eyes hurt so badly. Only to find out that it was a side effect of my medications. I was ready to go to a neurologist. I was ready to drop hundreds of dollars for them to take a bunch of expensive scans and tests, and then tell me it was side effects. Great, thank you United States Health Care System.
If you are wondering why my frustration with this topic is escalating, then I will tell you. My mother took me to doctors when I was younger because of my illness. I told her I needed help. So she did just that helped me. We were a very low income family. And the access we had to good doctors was nil to none in this small town I grew up. So, she took me to my GP and then she sent me to a big city Psychiatrist. His name was great!.... I will leave it out, but it was something like.. Dr. Nice. Thats not what it was, but it might as well been! He was expensive. Like every other good psychiatrist I've ever known. The average cost for just one half hour. Yes people 30 mins. is about $175. Give or take $50. So if you average the cost just to see the doctor to manage the medications, then the medications. Well, you guessed it, we should have been homeless. We should have been. My Mother, My hero went bankrupt trying to take care of my medical needs. She did everything she could. Also, please take into consideration, when a child tells you,"I feel like I want to die", and "I'm hearing voices", and "I'm having really bad anxiety that lasts 5-6 hours or more at a time."...... as a parent would you really seriously take the time to do what you could to make sure you didn't go under financially? Or would you drop everything, and take care of your child the best way you know how? Get her in to see a doctor that specialized in this sort discipline? I am so thankful for her. She did everything right by me. I thank God for her every day. I'll also tell you one secret, she was the one thing that kept me alive in more then one circumstance. All I did was have to think of her, and think how much it would hurt her if I left her so soon. That kept me going. I could never ever hurt her like that. She never gave up on me, and I'll never give up on her.
So back to the homeless topic. When you are faced with medication or food and shelter, I could see why people choose shelter and food. But later they end up loosing their shelter because they can't seem to keep the job. Why? Because now they can't afford their medication and must try to manage their mood swings and mental illness by themselves. I feel for those who are homeless. I know that I could have been one myself. There were countless times that I considered running away. "Just disappear", I would tell myself. "Just go away for a little while", but I know that my problems would only follow myself. So why bother? I'd lose everything, even my sanity.
So now, lets recap. The 3rd larges group of homeless adults is mentally ill. Medication is outrageously priced. Also, doctors who specialize in this field are also very very expensive.
Where does that leave us? Where do we stand after all this? Our pockets will be turned inside out and our mind will be even further lost into the deep blue of this place we call Earth, and United States.
I'd not like for this topic to be dragged to much into politics, but I touched it. I couldn't help it. Another topic I'll go into is my views as a someone who is challenged by mental health, and how I see the health care system in USA. I'll talk about my experiences "fighting" with it.
Good Night &
Good luck Chuck!
Almost lost it....close call.
Well I actually meant I almost lost my counseling place at the low cost place I mentioned in a previous posting. This counseling opportunity was a great chance for me to learn more about myself. I kind of screwed up because of my memory. I have serious issues remembering things. My memory seems to just drop out from underneath myself. I can tell myself to remember something or be somewhere 20 times and still forget. I blame it partly on the fact that I can't keep track of my days. Probably because I don't work, and I'm not focused on how much closer I can to Friday. But I know what day it is, but not really. You probably know what it kind of feels like when you are on a long vacation and forget what day it is. The only difference is that it's not just a vacation forgetful thing, it's a serious disconnect I seem to have.
So I called and told them I wouldn't come next week. Meanwhile I forgot todays appointment! I fully intended to go to todays session, but just slipped my mind and there was no time to just hurry and shower and be there. It was simply too late.
The person I talked to said that I may loose my spot. Granted I "Did" pay for the session he seemed to treate me as if he was doing me a big favor by allowing me in the program. Which I do understand partly. But I can't help that my husbands Grandma passed away. Give me a little slack. I have a mental illness which seems to affect my memory somewhat and I'm also dealing with some pretty intense stuff. Sooooo... isn't that why I NEED counseling?
Anyways, later I got to speak with my counselor and we agreed that I could only miss these two sessions and I would be allowed to continue. That the Graduate students participating (my counselor included) needed to put in their hours, and they were relying on me to be there. I was simply thankful to be able to continue. But I seriously didn't need the built trip. I'm sorry sir, but I'm not a student, I am a client, and patient. Yes, you are giving me a great financial deal, but in turn I am taking a risk on your students.
It was a close call... I almost lost my spot.
So I called and told them I wouldn't come next week. Meanwhile I forgot todays appointment! I fully intended to go to todays session, but just slipped my mind and there was no time to just hurry and shower and be there. It was simply too late.
The person I talked to said that I may loose my spot. Granted I "Did" pay for the session he seemed to treate me as if he was doing me a big favor by allowing me in the program. Which I do understand partly. But I can't help that my husbands Grandma passed away. Give me a little slack. I have a mental illness which seems to affect my memory somewhat and I'm also dealing with some pretty intense stuff. Sooooo... isn't that why I NEED counseling?
Anyways, later I got to speak with my counselor and we agreed that I could only miss these two sessions and I would be allowed to continue. That the Graduate students participating (my counselor included) needed to put in their hours, and they were relying on me to be there. I was simply thankful to be able to continue. But I seriously didn't need the built trip. I'm sorry sir, but I'm not a student, I am a client, and patient. Yes, you are giving me a great financial deal, but in turn I am taking a risk on your students.
It was a close call... I almost lost my spot.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.
This is a good example of how I feel right now....... a little hopeless I suppose.
Enjoy listening...
How he loves us By David Crowder Band
Please take a moment to listen....... this is what I feel.
Enjoy listening...
How he loves us By David Crowder Band
Please take a moment to listen....... this is what I feel.
A sad and happy note
With a broken heart I have to report that my Husband's Grandmother has Passed yesterday during my bout with insomnia. She lives across the country in Ohio. Out of all the people who are family out here in California, my mother in-law took it the worst. We all knew she would have the hardest time with it. She really doesn't like that she lives so far away from her family, but in the same turn she knows she built a life out here so this is how things have to be right now.
It breaks my heart having to watch her go through the pain, and know exactly how she feels. The feelings of loosing my Dad only a year ago, and my Grandma only 7 months ago is all so fresh in my mind and heart. Sometimes I still feel it like yesterday. It also makes me sad because I only got to meet her two times. I've known my husband for 5 years (we've only been married 2 years), and I met her once when we all flew out to Ohio for a 50th Anniversary (other set of grandparents). We went back and forth to both Grandparents and I was able to meet Aunts and Uncles for the first time. It was a beautiful happy trip. I was so pleased to meet them, and get to know them. It gave me a great deal of insight as to where Tyson(my husband) came from.
So we will be flying out of California and to Ohio in the next few days and staying there for a week. I hope to have access to the Blog while I am there. Oh, and the weather over there is going to be interesting. It's awful snow storms... and cold as cold can be. And last night I happened to catch a cold of some kind. I haven't been sick in like 2 years so it's about time. So the sad note today is we've lost a person who we love very very much.
The happy note is that I have my first "Follower" for the Blog, and my first "Comment". I am so pleased that people are enjoying my writing and my thoughts. Good and bad thoughts, I am pleased that they are receiving them in a way that makes them want to read more. From the little bit of feed back I've already gotten, it seems that I am accomplishing my goal in trying to help people understand what people with Mental Health symptoms go through, good and bad. So this only increases my desire to write even more. I feel good about it. Even though it's sometimes very hard to share what my thoughts are, I feel like it's serving a purpose. A positive purpose hopefully.
Thank you very much for reading. It means so much for me to know that there are people listening and walking this journey with me. It tells me people want to learn about these type of illnesses.
PS. There is a poll to the right, which I can not seem to figure out how to darken the font. Please take a moment to squint and try and read it. I'm sorry for that. I tried to work on it and figure out how to change the color, but couldn't, and now I don't have a lot of time to fiddle around looking for the location to change it.
the poll is:
It breaks my heart having to watch her go through the pain, and know exactly how she feels. The feelings of loosing my Dad only a year ago, and my Grandma only 7 months ago is all so fresh in my mind and heart. Sometimes I still feel it like yesterday. It also makes me sad because I only got to meet her two times. I've known my husband for 5 years (we've only been married 2 years), and I met her once when we all flew out to Ohio for a 50th Anniversary (other set of grandparents). We went back and forth to both Grandparents and I was able to meet Aunts and Uncles for the first time. It was a beautiful happy trip. I was so pleased to meet them, and get to know them. It gave me a great deal of insight as to where Tyson(my husband) came from.
So we will be flying out of California and to Ohio in the next few days and staying there for a week. I hope to have access to the Blog while I am there. Oh, and the weather over there is going to be interesting. It's awful snow storms... and cold as cold can be. And last night I happened to catch a cold of some kind. I haven't been sick in like 2 years so it's about time. So the sad note today is we've lost a person who we love very very much.
The happy note is that I have my first "Follower" for the Blog, and my first "Comment". I am so pleased that people are enjoying my writing and my thoughts. Good and bad thoughts, I am pleased that they are receiving them in a way that makes them want to read more. From the little bit of feed back I've already gotten, it seems that I am accomplishing my goal in trying to help people understand what people with Mental Health symptoms go through, good and bad. So this only increases my desire to write even more. I feel good about it. Even though it's sometimes very hard to share what my thoughts are, I feel like it's serving a purpose. A positive purpose hopefully.
Thank you very much for reading. It means so much for me to know that there are people listening and walking this journey with me. It tells me people want to learn about these type of illnesses.
PS. There is a poll to the right, which I can not seem to figure out how to darken the font. Please take a moment to squint and try and read it. I'm sorry for that. I tried to work on it and figure out how to change the color, but couldn't, and now I don't have a lot of time to fiddle around looking for the location to change it.
the poll is:
Are you or someone you know challenged by mental health symptoms?
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Productivity produced by insomnia
I did find one productive thing to do during my night of non-sleeping. I happened to e-mail the local news station this morning and they read my e-mail on air. How cool is that! Insomnia... thank you for my 15 mins of fame!
Bellow you will find my e-mail:
Bellow you will find my e-mail:
"Even though I wasn't able to get any sleep last night, it's nice being able to watch all of you guys on Good Day at 4:30. You can't call anyone and chat at 2AM, or even 4AM (unless they call you guys). So it's nice having the Good Day Crew to pretend to be awake with and watch the sun come up. It's not so lonely when 4:30 comes."
CW31 Good Day Sacramento Morning Show
~The triumphant beauty of the sleepless~
Of course, I am awake. I do my best to be asleep by 11 at the latest, but sure enough I sit here awake and it is 2AM. I started looking for people online, someone to help me pass the time by, but to no avail there is no one. There probably won't be anyone either until 6AM. So I'll be alone with me, myself, and my thoughts for the next 4 or so hours, unless I am lucky enough to fall asleep between then.
I wonder sometimes about these sleepless nights. I wonder why can't I be productive during these hours of sleeplessness. I don't know why really, but it seems that if I am unable to sleep, then I certainly am not able to be productive. I do things that are unproductive and pass the time. Usually the computer. I wish I had the motivation to file, clean, or go do yard work. Gosh, think of the things I could get done in an extra 8 hours. But for some reason these hours are always lost to the deep dark blue of the night. Gone, and never seen again. Like they have entered into the witness protection program. They witnessed something they should not. Seeing someone awake, all night and not they must go into hiding. They never share what had conspired during those quiet hours of night. And their life depends on it. For when the next sleepless night comes, they to will come out and play.
I wonder sometimes about these sleepless nights. I wonder why can't I be productive during these hours of sleeplessness. I don't know why really, but it seems that if I am unable to sleep, then I certainly am not able to be productive. I do things that are unproductive and pass the time. Usually the computer. I wish I had the motivation to file, clean, or go do yard work. Gosh, think of the things I could get done in an extra 8 hours. But for some reason these hours are always lost to the deep dark blue of the night. Gone, and never seen again. Like they have entered into the witness protection program. They witnessed something they should not. Seeing someone awake, all night and not they must go into hiding. They never share what had conspired during those quiet hours of night. And their life depends on it. For when the next sleepless night comes, they to will come out and play.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
It's time for a change!
On a happy note, I would like to add that I got a place and time slot in a low cost counseling opportunity. Graduates who need to get time in during actual counseling conduct the session, and it is supervised by a professor through a one way mirror. I was so trilled to get a space. I really have been needing a third party ear to help me break down what my body has been going through. Someone who doesn't have a stake in my life or time. It was very important to me to get into this program because I seriously can not afford to pay any large amount and the visits break down to $7 a visit. For 17 weeks I think they said. Basically a full semester is the length of time it will be.
She and I re-touched on a subject that had been brought up by a previous Therapist of mine. De-validation. I do it all the time. I do it even when I am not paying attention, and I do it when I am trying not to do it. I hate that I do it because it just removes any positive from my previous stance or statement. For example. I would say something like. "I am a good house wife and I take such pride in doing things for my family, but how do I tell someone that I'm unemployed and don't have a job because I am disabled?". Not only did I say I as good at something, but in the next breath I just snatched it away from myself. I believe I have literally been living in a life of being "unworthy", and revalidation since about the age of 14. Around that time I also think I was dealing with some label that I had been stuck with. In a friendship things seemed to always be, "my fault". I did my best to defend myself, but it seemed that there was nothing I could say to back myself. I was always wrong, I was always the person who did the thing that was bad, or even thought of the thing that was bad. It was my fault, and I bared the burden for that friend. She was too weak at the time to carry that burden, and somehow I have never been able to drop that bag, or peel off that label. I wished I had years ago. It was really never my fault. It was no ones fault. And now I am dealing with the constant idea of me not being good enough for the world. Not being good enough for others, for Church, and mostly not being good enough for myself. How do I un-clutch my fingers from this bag?
So back to the counseling session, we touched on many subjects. I wasn't even really prepared to talk about that many things, but it went there and I was glad. It felt natural to talk with her, but very unnatural to be in a tiny room with a one way mirror. I swear to you if anyone going into the counseling program has paranoia or claustrophobia, they will struggle with that environment. Even I felt like my chest was going to crack open and my heart was going to fall onto the floor. As we spoke, she caught me doing these tactics to myself to make myself less worthy and take a positive thing and turn it around into a negative thing. It hurt to see this, and to be caught doing this to myself. I felt like a child making fun of another child. Telling them that they weren't good enough. Every time that child will hear that, a scar will be left on their soul. Instead of another person being the victimizer, it is me who is hurting the little child within. I am the bully. I sort of feel hurt for myself. I feel both sides of my "inner being". I can't seem to stop the bully, and I can't fix the poor innocent one. I feel stuck. I hope and pray that a pathway comes to me and opens up some doors to give that innocent child power to stand up to the bully and finally end it once and for all.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Emotional Transplant
Sometimes I have an emotion that overwhelms me that I have no idea where it came from. I feel like it is foreign to my own body. I feel as it it is a transplanted emotion. I certainly did not grow up learning this emotion, but never the less it exists inside my body. Sometimes the emotion or feeling is so intense my skin can barely handle it. It feels as if my skin is going to crack open and emotions will ooze out.
Right now, I feel Anger. Anger is the only thing I feel. My eyes seem to only see red, and I am so angry that I feel like I might even pass out. I have physical pain in my chest where my heart is located, but how is it possible to even have a "heart", when you feel so angry? I feel the black and red pumping like oil through my veins poisoning the flourishing grown it touches.
It really bothers me to feel these things. To be so angry I feel out of control. I feel helpless in my own body and mind. It feels as if it's not even my own body. Foreign and alien.
There are also the good emotions that come and go like all the others. For example, I could be driving down the road, and for no apparent reason everything in the entire world is "Right". For that moment in time, there is no hunger. There is no sadness. There is only glorious happiness. Utopia and uphoria. A place of extacy in the mind and soul when you know you are right were you are supposed to be and doing exactly what you are ment to be. Sometimes the colors in the world are even brighter, and more brilliant. Smells can be more crisp and clean, and in the spring time you can almost smell the moisture in the grass. Of course this sounds good. Sure, I wish I could life in this constant state of mania my entire life. But it's not reality. This is not real life, and I really don't want to be living a lie.
So the doctors give me medication. They try to keep the lows from going to low, and the highs from going to high. This leaves me with stability, and bord out of my mind. I have to look at it this way, less people get hurt in my path of emotional destruction. I wish I could just eliminate the horrible lows, and spend a little more time in the highs. If only I could dial ind tailor the emotions to make it a perfect eco environment for my little soul. How pleasent that would be.
Meanwhile my insides are screaming for help, and no one is around to help. I want to cry, scream, and break down all at once. But as society has taught me, that is not acceptable. Even though I am in dire need for someone to just talk to, and more importantly listen to their voice. I am forced to hold it all inside. God forbid that I actually ask for help. God forbid I show weakness. You just simply are not allowed to get "out of control". It's uncomfortable for others if you show that kind of depth and emotions. They don't want to be bothered, and the honest truth is that it disturbs them. Well holy hell, it disturbs me too. Welcome to the Bipolar tour! To the left is Anger, to the right you will see depression. Notice the desperation and despair there. And if you glance ahead, you may even see euphoria.
Welcome to my world. I hope you enjoyed your visit. Please come again soon.
Meanwhile, I will stay here and drown in emotions that I didn't even know I had.
Right now, I feel Anger. Anger is the only thing I feel. My eyes seem to only see red, and I am so angry that I feel like I might even pass out. I have physical pain in my chest where my heart is located, but how is it possible to even have a "heart", when you feel so angry? I feel the black and red pumping like oil through my veins poisoning the flourishing grown it touches.
It really bothers me to feel these things. To be so angry I feel out of control. I feel helpless in my own body and mind. It feels as if it's not even my own body. Foreign and alien.
There are also the good emotions that come and go like all the others. For example, I could be driving down the road, and for no apparent reason everything in the entire world is "Right". For that moment in time, there is no hunger. There is no sadness. There is only glorious happiness. Utopia and uphoria. A place of extacy in the mind and soul when you know you are right were you are supposed to be and doing exactly what you are ment to be. Sometimes the colors in the world are even brighter, and more brilliant. Smells can be more crisp and clean, and in the spring time you can almost smell the moisture in the grass. Of course this sounds good. Sure, I wish I could life in this constant state of mania my entire life. But it's not reality. This is not real life, and I really don't want to be living a lie.
So the doctors give me medication. They try to keep the lows from going to low, and the highs from going to high. This leaves me with stability, and bord out of my mind. I have to look at it this way, less people get hurt in my path of emotional destruction. I wish I could just eliminate the horrible lows, and spend a little more time in the highs. If only I could dial ind tailor the emotions to make it a perfect eco environment for my little soul. How pleasent that would be.
Meanwhile my insides are screaming for help, and no one is around to help. I want to cry, scream, and break down all at once. But as society has taught me, that is not acceptable. Even though I am in dire need for someone to just talk to, and more importantly listen to their voice. I am forced to hold it all inside. God forbid that I actually ask for help. God forbid I show weakness. You just simply are not allowed to get "out of control". It's uncomfortable for others if you show that kind of depth and emotions. They don't want to be bothered, and the honest truth is that it disturbs them. Well holy hell, it disturbs me too. Welcome to the Bipolar tour! To the left is Anger, to the right you will see depression. Notice the desperation and despair there. And if you glance ahead, you may even see euphoria.
Welcome to my world. I hope you enjoyed your visit. Please come again soon.
Meanwhile, I will stay here and drown in emotions that I didn't even know I had.
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