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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)