A couple years ago I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) caused by a violent childhood. This is my journey, not to 'normal' but to 'ME.'
Now, I figure my blog is basically a case against abuse, right? But just in case it isn't clear, here are some tips for the parents out there.
Parents - I know kids can be frustrating. They don't do what you want them to, they don't always behave in public, and sometimes they act out for attention. Your child may not be as good-looking as you, or as smart as you, that's because of one simple fact - they aren't you! Please recognize that each child out there is different from their parents and an individual in their own right. They are not 'mini-me's' cloned for your amusement. They have feelings and emotions separate from you. They like things that are different. And even if they don't yet, they have the ability in them to be a separate entity.
To that end - DO NOT:
Of course, there are other items that really shouldn't need to be said, but I will:
Parents, Please do:
Now, I know I've never had kids, I've just had cats. But the trust and respect issue goes a long long way. Do not abuse your child, mentally, phsyically, emotionally, sexually. Love them with all your heart and be the guardian's they need you to be.
This is in response to: http://blog.blogcatalog.com/category/community-challenge/
So while I may not be able to call them right now, I’m working on it. And I’m grateful I can send them some flowers and let them know I’m trying. I may not be able to say it yet, but I can write it out and, as the ad says, ‘say it with flowers.’
(The picture above is one I took after sharpening a lip pencil. I thought it looked like a rosebud.)
Posted by Victorya at 8:48 AM
(Yes, I threw it in the air and snapped a shot as it fell on my head, covering me with blanket love)
(I'm re-reading this now, and when I rewrite this more non-blog formal, I think the title will be "How 9-11 Helped Me See The Terrorist In My Own Home")
Every couple of months, I have to fill out these 'behavioural surveys' that keep track of my symptoms. The above is for anxiety, as it's a huge componenet of PTSD. It was interesting the first time I saw this, as I never knew 'fear of choking' was an anxiety symptom. My entire childhood I could never wear a necklace, turtleneck, anything that would touch my neck because it felt like i was choking. First peice of jewelry I bought in college was a cheap necklace, I remember my mother being amazed as I could never wear one before. The dizziness/lightheadness was also a new one to me, as I felt it all the time but always attributed it to poor diet. Granted, it can be that as well, but when since the dizziness comes on during periods of stress, it can easily be attributed to anxiety as well.
The rest are just as interesting. #18 - indigestion, #20 - face flushed. I sent this to my friend Xiomara that I've talked about, and she says she has every single one. I don't get them all that often, the main ones being dizziness and flushed face. Shaky was another childhood one. With every step I twisted my ankle and fell.
It's amazing what anxiety does to a person.
One year when I was in college my brother tried to get a job, and worked at a veterinarian’s office. I think he was just one of the animal caretakers there; we weren’t really talking that much then. I heard the stories though – that he was attacked by a pitbull and needed stitches in his neck, then a couple weeks later was bit by a cat that had one of those institutionalized bacteria’s and a black streak went up his arm and to his heart.
Out of this came a cat – Einstein. He was one of the donor cats and, as my brother’s story goes, “he was in a cage so small he couldn’t stand up straight and they were going to kill him because they couldn’t find any good veins anymore.”
Indeed, he walked with a stoop, a bit of the hunchback action going on, and kept his claws out at all times, like he thought he needed them for traction. When you pet him, you could feel the scabs across his wiry frame.
But he was so happy, always happy. That sweet thing loved human company and was in whatever lap could be found. He purred whenever anyone entered the room and was just so content with his life. I think he drooled too, I don’t remember. Somewhere in my life was a cat that drooled when he was happy. Wait, it was Einstein as he had few teeth left.
When my brother moved out he took Einstein with him, as it was his rescue. I remember asking about him later. My brother told me that he had a horrible death- that he just yowled and yowled as another cat attacked him and punctured his lung. I really don’t believe that story, by that time my brother was saying what he could to hurt me, and he knew I cared for our little rescue cat. I also don’t like to think of the smile he had when he told me this story, or that he would enjoy the poor cat’s pain as much as he enjoyed telling me about it.
Instead, I like to think that Einstein passed away quietly, after a couple years of peace and love outside his cage.
What could make a Sunday more Special than by spending it with a pants obsessed chocolate peanut loving Bear currently stationed in the United Kingdom? Not much, that's for sure. Hence today's Sunday Special Bob's Diary. (Bob, I took that picture above special for you.)
I'll be honest. It took me a bit to get into the writings of this bear, as they write phonetically. But, once past the small language bearier I was able to fully enjoy all this bear has to offer. And if you think those bears you have lying around your house are idle all day, let this one set you straight.
It was through Bob that I learned the UK Charmin puts pictures of bears on their toilet paper. Excuse me? No God-fearing American would ever whipe themselves with any printed TP (in fact, I've never seen anything but plain white TP sold, except through the internet). But imagine to wake up one day and see pictures of your genus on something that gets flushed away? Well, Bob wouldn't let that go buy without speaking up. He's a leader, that one.
Bob also has a slight obses- er- interest in pants. Apparently, in non-America land, pants are what we call underpants, so to speak so openly about shopping for pants is curiously tittilating as one imagines satin and lace rather than twill and cotton.
There is so many more facets to Bob than what I have typed in here. So go check it out, and make your Sunday Special.
If you have a site you think would make Sunday Special, please leave me a link. This is something I'd like to continue each Sunday. Be it filled with cuteness, happiness, awesome artwork, or just plain positive energy feel free to let me know! Anything that would be of interest on a lazy hazy Sunday morning is up for review.
One of the first things I had to deal with in my current therapy is dealing with the holes in my memory. Or, really, just accepting that I’m not going to remember everything and that it’s probably for the best. I don’t want to drown in my own past as I’m moving toward a positive future now, do I?
For the most part that’s fine. I don’t remember everything. I want to write things down just to gain ownership over them, to accept that they are part of me, my past, and to realize that damn it, I was a kid and shouldn’t feel guilt over things from childhood.
Then something happens, like yesterday, and the holes come back and I’m staring in the shadows and wondering just what the hell happened.
My foot has been hurting me for sometime and I have had x-rays and such and going to physical therapy for it. Then the other foot started to hurt so I went to my doctor. Well, he was running late so the head of the practice was there and figured, why make her wait for my partner? And took me in. He wasn’t happy.
See, after two x-rays, it turns out I have a fracture in one foot and a break in the other. These have apparently been there since childhood. He asked if I had some accident when I was younger.
These are the questions that spiral me, so I had a hard time asking or answering other questions after that. With people without my past, I wonder if they’d shrug and think something happened in their rambunctious years. But with me, I wonder if my parents did something and then never took me to the doctors. That was the first thought, “What the F*ck happened?” Because I didn’t go to the doctor’s much when younger, not that I remember. There were a few ER visits, but those are a long story and I was away at camp when that adventure started.
Then I begin to think, “Well, maybe they did take me to a doctor but it was one of those free clinics,” because really, that’s what we could afford. I’ve been dealing with so many dental issues caused from these free clinics when I was younger. I have one more tooth left to fix, one that was given half a root canal then covered with a temporary and never finished. I don’t even remember the work every being done, but now I have to have it fixed.
It’s tough, and will be even tougher as I have to have surgery and be laid up for two weeks. It reminds me how physically alone I am here without a family to help out a bit. Who’ll catch me if I fall? I get tired of setting up nets myself to catch me, you know? A nice hand someday. Of course, that’s what I’m working toward, breaking down enough of the walls that I’ll be open to another’s hands one day. And, of course, accepting that I’ll never know how those bones broke.
Image taken from www.picturingpeace.org
After listening to the CD so many times (I still can’t believe it was remaindered to the dollar store) I finally splurged and got the DVD. Definitely amazing, the animation is absolutely stunning.
To those that are unfamiliar – this is a Dreamworks animated telling of the story of Moses – at least until after the sea parts and he brings his people out of the Pharaoh’s reach.
What I think they did really well was the personal dilemma. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to live in a castle and then realize you were born a slave that, to the family you are raised in, is not even human. Can you also imagine waking up one day and finding out that your purpose is clearly delineated – but involves giving up everything you’ve known and worse, fighting against it to lead others to freedom? To one day realize that all you have is worthless when others have no hope of ever attaining it.
But then I realized, it’s not just Moses. Throughout history we have people who realized, despite the threat to safety, they had to lead others against the dominating classes and fight, not just for freedom, but the right to be seen as human beings. What is it that allows some eyes to be open and so many to remain closed, that allows some people to stand up while others avert their eyes?
I think the film was empathetic to the whole human experience inherent in the tale. There is so much pain in the Old Testament. The relationship between Moses and Ramses was also done well, on a human level. How could Ramses not be upset that his brother turned his back on everything he’d known?
The best part was the parting of the Red Sea. The animation was just astounding (especially with the whale swimming in the columns of water) and with the swell of perfectly placed music I couldn’t help but be choked up.
And of course, it is always great to listen to Brian Stokes Mitchell. He has such an amazing voice.
All-in-all a great thought-provoking film.
Posted by Victorya at 1:03 PM
I missed Sunday!
Actually, I tried in the morning but my net wasn't too happy (dial-up) then I got caught up in things (cleaned my bedroom, yeah!)
So now to clean house on the blog :)
Amel from Amel's Realm gave me the Blogging Star Award, and on the day of one of my hardest to write posts!
I bestow it to:
Rachelle of Pasture Musings for many many reasons, but people really should check out her adventures in Alpaca land! It's a rollercoaster of a read, with a lot of sweet fuzzies in the mix.
Carol Cooper for just awesomeness, I love her blog and support
and Chewy, definately an inspiration as I continue my blogging.
Amel has also bestowed on my a wonderful award, the I <3>
After her death, I went to two different therapists. One, a grief counselor specializing in the human/animal bond and the other one of the leaders in interpersonal therapy who dealt mostly with dysthymia (constant low-grade depression). Both agreed: She was my real mother.
Warning: This video may be disturbing to some. It's of one of her last days.