POST TRAUMATIC PATHS

2012-01-29T12:13:00.000-05:00

NANA’S RULE #1

Enjoy the Moment

What a gorgeously flirtatious character: mygrandchild. He floats from mood to moodas he sorts out his moment by movement day! Fast-paced, tricky little devils they are!! Need your focus 24/7/365. It can be a bit much – that must be whyHillary Clinton said “It takes a village to raise a child”!!!!!

When Nana watches, now’s the chance to showoff what I can do with my body’, flipping and laughing and rolling and running I am everywhere - one moment overfeeding thefish, the next stuffing the toothpaste down the toilet, writing with indelibleon the walls – o, but there’s always an adult shadow keeping the worst of it atbay and hope gets past this phase fast! O, to be a toddler.

The innocence of first sightings anddiscoveries must be intoxicating and ‘seeing through the eyes of a child’ involvesbelieving in the outrageous and irrational and invisible We have so much tolearn from them, don’t we?

When a puzzle piece fits into its woodenslot, the world takes on a new glow. When she shows us where my cell phone is or turns off the televisionwhen we ask - we soon take for granted that’s he’s that brilliant and willprobably be Prime Minister one day! Thedevelopmental advances of these years boggle the mind as much as the allure ofhaving ’special’ access’ as a grandmother to this young fledgling learni theropes. I revel in the joy and innocenceof children.

Strategic lessons are uselessly arranged -the spontaneous agenda is where it’s at from a toddler’s view. It’s like datinga manic depressive at his or her worst - the mood swings hold us captive as itrallies us all forward to the next cataclysmic life lesson (like, “no, you don’tthrow Mommy’s glass vase on the floor! and yes, I understand that you’re sorry;come, let Nana hold you!”, No, fish don’t like champagne”)!

But when they learn to kiss me goodbye andthen laugh and jump up and down and when they have what they need to growhealthy and strong. When I get thoserare, quiet moments when one will sit and read two or three pages of a bookwith me, I melt to realize these are fleeting years for us, Absurdly fast-paced times but I’m nowofficially part of the “New World According to Nicholas, Isabelle and Alex” and I’m the lucky one - I get to see it up close!

2012-01-21T02:08:00.001-05:00

So, we tussled and it was long overdue and it's a long way from finished. And i wouldn't actually call it tussling so much as clarifying. I can't share my true beliefs with her because they are heretical!, er, different from hers (but still Christian). God/de that woman had fire - she turned me right on. Some people are just ALIVE with Jesus!!! Jesus freaks, we used to call them!

She contends that Jesus can heal my illness. I say God/de is using my illness and i wouldn't have me as anything but where i am. Suffering is not anathema to the Christian - it is the "narrow path" of which the Lord refers to. It ain't no ferris wheel. But it's strong and tempering "pruned and molded".

Without faith, i doubt if i'd be here. Faith is omni-inherent. Faith in God/de, faith in yourself, faith in Confucianism. From Orthodox Jew to the blackjack player, faith is a big deal. But what of the one who suffers. Suffering is omni-inherent. I must remember that everything around me is omni-present but not necessarily inherent.

I had an "episode" at Christmas related to my medication. I was experiencing extreme mental anguish, so much so it was completely impairing me and my functions. We chose (rather, i suggested) Zyprexa....i just couldn't think of any other "type" of psychoactive drug that might make a difference. Right away it was ZAP - GONE. The anguish lifted. It was heaven. But in my 'infinite wisdom', i thought i shouldn't introduce a new drug at xmas time so i went off. By Christmas Eve I was certifiable. And i was so incredibly selfish. I still think mental illness is a character flaw. It is sad to think that way.

I had an "episide last August so i've had a bit of a journey. I have to go see a shrink and have my meds reviewed. Groan. Dr. S. (the one i'm booked with is so yukky. I used to accompany people i was working for there and he was nuts. I should be grateful i worked in the field to have this inside information and i thank god/de that i have enough brain cells left to investigate things plus the resources (thanks to my beautiful children to do so. If he goes for complete med change then i will go for a second opinion.

There is so much information and experience i can share about the experiences as my final analysis is complete "but not right now....soon....but not now"! (the Gladiator with Russell Crowe who, in my dream world is my boyfriend!!). It took me this long to write this. I don't like writing in the first person so i shall focus on issues as they come up.
cheers, heather

Two or Three

2012-01-16T05:36:00.000-05:00

I tussled with a good friend today about faith and understanding. I have a pretty broad knowledge of things theological. A solid enough foundation anyway with lots of experience under my belt now. Anglican, Roman Catholic, Faith and Healing Pentecostal-type dudes, Quakers and (as a child) complete ignorance!

Evangelist.....must be the most difficult job outlined in the Bible as tasks for His Believers. People actually do decry them often. "Pentecostals" i used to say until i understood the distinction. Pentecostalism is "wo/man made" as a denomination (practically) of Christianity. "Evangelist" is a "calling", if you will - a desire to participate and share in their understanding of the faith, speaking of what is good and uplifting. Evangelist reinforces and uplifts the believer and non-believers alike. S/he can bring them in and they can steady one's path and you see the power in your decision to follow what Jesus said was the thing that brought us closer to God/de than anything: LOVE. I've never been attracted to that type of passion. Except for Billy Graham. I likee his position on ecumenicism and most humbly offered his interpretation of the fath. His sincerity shone through often.

Many people say "God to church" to people with poor mental health. Not easy to do when you have social phobias. An so i think, ' let the image of "two or three gather in My Name" remind me that i don't have to go to formal "Wo/Man"-made church.

My friend is an Evangelist but i told her she should be a preacher - she's really good at it.

So, remember: Next time, you tell a depressed, anxious person to go to church, remember what courage it takes to say 'no' and say why and think "...when two or three...."

2012-01-15T19:50:00.002-05:00

I could not get into my account the past month and i wanted to blog SO much; it is insane how addictive "blogging" can become. The illusion of anonymity and allure of faux connections!!

2011-12-21T00:38:00.002-05:00

O, crikes, i really don't have enough objectivity to write in this blog right now. Blessings for the Holy Days.
heather

Some thoughts

2011-12-14T22:58:00.001-05:00

i've been interested in the concept of "nationalism" (as you all know!!) there is a wide body of differences in cultural approaches to mental health around the world; some filled with shame and fear and lack of knowledge; others supporting acceptance and understanding for people. Being advocates for people. That's what i'm trying to teach my grandson. Anyways, I met new neighbors across the street. There country of origin was Pakistan and the woman had alot of difficulty with the language and her mother, father, four-year old and one-year old live all together. I'm very excited - a new culture in the neighbourhood. So, it's always, cultural differences, countries of origins and generational ties to a certain geography. We don't know how to live in peace on this planet. My first and only argument with government is that is corrupt overtly and overt corruption (which is just as bad if not worse (ick, passive-aggressive, behind your back, derisive kind of ick. ).

So, back to mental health - i wish there was a way to take away the stigma of "being a woman" is carried buy most couples i supported from that mid-eastern area of the world would tell you outright that male domination is normal and natural even to the point of the woman accepting abuse. When i worked with people on the street, i saw that happening to everyone. but i would replace male domination with system domination here. Aye, Aye Captain Harper, lets march on to Victory. God/de this world is crap. Women should organize a coup or all the male dominated postions and politics - that'll show them!!hahaha

My mental health has been up and down since the incident (which shall not be named), mostly down with depression. I was deaf so i was ok with the kids but physical manifestations of stress is common for me. I used to like Louse Hayes work on emotion and body (Rubenfeld Synergy; Feldenkreis). So, you're deaf? What do you not want to hear!! I'm better now - i think that i've got things figured out. I think the guy i was going out with was a prick and i have to get over blaming myself for "fucking" the relationship. God/de, my mother bloody BATHED me in guilt when i was a child. In the venue of - "i am not the centre of the world" - i do realize that if i ignore body/mind connection and how important that is then i lost perspective. Same with spirit and emotion.

You know, 'acceptance' is a simple word to write, to say and to define but sometimes even IMPOSSIBLE to achieve. But still, as wounded healers (Henri Nouwem) we must say what the "thing" is, face it and see it's viability, liability. Is it a burden still, like Robert DiNoro carring a large satchel of rocks up to the top of the mountain because his self-recrimination was still in him.. I feel that way about abuse sometimes. So much energy in the world is wasted because perpetrators do not realize the pain they put young children in when they touch them inappropriately; such pain as some go mad with the memory of it and some who walk around with pain from it. I've seen that several times in my career. The expectations of my job were not realistic. My supervisor had even less line experience with serious mental illness than i had! She was an amazingly nice woman and very talented but as a team and with my not yet diagnosed by rampant disabilities but definitely my anxiety was rising to "Never, Never (again) will my life be the same Land)!!! O god/de, the stories i could tell but i must sleep or the troop will just steamroll me in the a.m.a

Integration

2011-12-09T12:02:00.001-05:00

Mental health as a topic, as a matter of course as a broken leg or emphysema, brought into conversation whenever it is needed like, please don't yank my cast or please don't smoke around me, i would say, please allow me to speak more slowly and on some issues, speak too much. Please forgive the twitch in my right hand as i am surrounded by people i don't know. I'm sorry about my difficulty finding change for my coffee. Please be patient. I'll get there in time.

2011-12-05T05:41:00.000-05:00

An elder was teaching his grandchildren about life. He said to them, "A fight is going on inside me ... It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One wolf represents fear, anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority. The other stands for joy, peace, love, hope, sharing, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, friendship, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith. This same fight is going on inside you, and inside every other person, too." His grandchildren thought about it for a minute and then one child asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?" The elder simply replied... "The one you feed."

Dying of a Broken Heart

2011-12-04T05:41:00.001-05:00

I had thoughts about my mother's craziness tonite and was remembering the details of her death, how uniquely "hers" they were. A complicated woman and one who did what she didn't want to do for her entire adult life I call that 'the gals' prison'.....yuk, what a generation. No options, no power, sexist biases every where especially when a woman thinks of leaving her husband. Well, how would you live? O, thank GOD/DE for Betty Friedan and Germaine Greer. Anyways, of course, after having lived the life she didn't want, at the end of her time, facing death, she exercised the one power she had left. She wouldn't let my father come and visit her. Her final word - NO. She'd scream and holler when he came near the room. He finally stopped going but it wasn't long before she died anyways. She became senile/demented, very serious for a few weeks and died within four months in hospital. Beside her bed was a book entitled "Dying of a Broken Heart" - i've seen it at the book stores but never read it, of course! It was very sad compiling her eulogy because she was so much more than just a "housewife"..but she didn't see it, or felt she couldn't be it. I saw it and i shared her sorrow over her losses in her life. Also beside her bed was a slip of paper on which she had written in shaky hand: "Be still and know thy God/de.". You could tell there'd been some effort put into writing it down. She'd never been religious that i remember.

My dad's death. Well, it was weird and hard and somewhat a relief (because of all the caretaking i did, while holding down a full-time job and raising a young girl).. The call at night and the rush to the hospital and i stayed and wiped his forehead with a cloth saying "You've been a good father". Just repeating that and he would nod his head, oxygen mask taking his voice......and looked in my eyes and nodded his head over and over. Then......he died It's amazing seeing someone's last breath leave them. So so painful. Leaving him at the hospital was very hard, i remember; disorienting, to say the least. I also feel bad because when my bro and sis-in-law and i were there together i told a joke. The nurse's must see that all the time, though. So many responses to grief.

Our mother was cremated, my father as well. But with Dad, there a viewing and a service with his body present. My mother donated her body to the University of Toronto (typical). At Dad's funeral a majorly cool jaze/blues singer belted out that mournful cut from Sibelius, The Four Seasons (i think) - 'Going Home'. Anyways, I'm telling you all this because personal histories are important. Seeing, hearing, reading, writing our lives, straight out, as they happen, the patterns that emerge and the mistakes and the joy and the sorrow. Aging is really over rated but with it comes wisdom and that always involves responsibility but does bring peace. That's why the Native people of North America revered their elders and held them in great esteem. Many cultures do, still; ours does not.

I went to my "old" home and picked up my hot pink lawn chairs, my wheelbarrow and my favourite hoe, a lovely wicker basket i'd found somewhre I drove by where my ex lives and and my jaw dropped at the luxury and beauty but it was in syncht with what he feels comfortable in, you know, regarding his "style" and "influence: and "status". I'm not judging, i'm just saying...

2011-11-27T21:23:00.001-05:00

Every region, every province, every country has a different response to people with mental health issues. Some have no tolerance, some over-plan till they get it all messed up, some have compassion but no resources but not one "gets it". A recent experience in the hospital reminded me of how poorly people are treated who are mentally unstable and how much pressure is put on them to "buck up" and get back into the saddle. Mostly, it's because there is nowhere to "put" people! It's very difficult for the unstable and for people who's mind is murky with drugs and confused with what is real and what is not, to find a "home". A home where one can be loved, can be real and/or to choose to live alone or with people who understand the challenges (and not berate them or discount them).

You are a dollar figure that needs to get released as soon as possible to decrease costs. Of course, this is the case with every medical need in this country, the 53rd state.(or whatever people call Canada these days)!

People often think the mentally ill are faking it, i think....maybe for sympathy, maybe so they don't have to work or whatever. It probably happens but, man, it would be weird to keep that up. Before my diagnosis i had to work SOOOOO hard to "play" normal because i needed to work, i wanted to work, i loved my work, it was satisfying in so many ways, i miss it so much, really. I think the word they use for faking is "maligning". "Is the patient maligning"?

I feel questioned as to my motives. I feel so "monitored". Am i making good choices or am i going to act crazy and do something i shouldn't.

Isn't it alright to pull over when i get lost and just wait until i remember where i'm going? Don't you think i wish i wasn't pulled down into depression and unable to get out of bed. Don't you think i'd like to go everywhere, anywhere without planning for probable, imminent disaster. My experience is that mentally ill people are often not trusted once they break down. That's why i think this whole "recovery" and "community" business is government funded crap talk: the only thing they could come up with to rationalize the increase of people with mental illness in the community (because it's much cheaper (as in MUCH) cheaper) to keep "them" in those big buildings. I was and still am in favour of the closing of institutions but "psych" wards in hospitals? Um. No thanks. I'd rather be at risk. I encountered so many people in my job who would NOT go to a hostel or hospital or go on welfare because then? You're in the system.

Haven't we talked about the exploitation of the mentally ill and/or the homeless. O, yes - it's got it's own economy: Money Mart, Pawn Shoppes, Price Choppers, Dollar Stores, the various church associated second-hand clothing shops/ furniture (but the antique dealers usually snatch up the good pieces early), No-Credit Needed furniture and appliances stores (including t.v.'s etc.) and charging you 29% interest,

I feel sometimes (it's kind of sneaky suspicion) that people exploit my illness at times and it is a HORRIBLE feeling, let me tell you. It erodes my trust in that person (for several moments) but at the same time (50/50), she/he might be right. Maybe you did say the 23rd and i wrote down the 32nd. You're right, of course. How silly of me. Goodness. But i always go on the side of the person because i don't want my trust broken. Think the best and the best will happen, says Mary Poppins, she does!!

And God/de -i'm not the crazy one. Look at the crap our grandchildren are watching. I caught my eight year old watching something inappropriate on YouTube (of all places!). Well, you bet i got him off that pdq and i told his parents and i know the boy who introduced him to it; i feel like going to his parents. Grrrrrr. Makes me think of Marx and alienation,. George Orwell and Animal Farm, some of the top science fiction writers over the years - telling us, pointing to a dim future for the earth, for the peoples of the earth if they continue to allow capitalism to guide them and i surely do believe that, mister, take that to the bank.

Digressing: kind of tired.

PTSD - what shall we do? How will you manifest, what will we see.
Let me distinguish myself, if you please:
i won't make a promise i can't really keep
and I'll remind you of the devil's deals while asleep..

My current favourite fabric design is "Tartan". I think my son-in-law would say "Achien" (sp), meaning "strong opinionated woman.. Ah yes - the strong Scotswoman who has your back!! That's me! Smile (despite what a doink i am!!!). God, didn't we talk about eroding self- esteem? Stay tuned, ladies and gentleman for episode # 2 in the ongoing saga: "Will the Scotswoman survive"!!!

2011-11-20T18:57:00.001-05:00

i do not want to go to therapy as i'm probably making clear and there is this feeling that life has been taken out of my hands and placed in someone else's! Is this what i'm supposed to learn? That being with God/de is like that and i should learn over and over how to do that. I'm very poor and i've made the same mistakes that i made before which also left me without any resources. I'm sad about it but why is it happening again? I don't understand that one. I haven't learned the lesson, i guess.

I feel very discombobulated by everything that's happened and confused about what parts i want to share.

i know that i'm not sure about tomorrow and the sun rising and all that but i'll stick around the see the outcome! I promise to stick around!

2011-11-17T15:35:00.001-05:00

The reality is no one reads this thing.
:o, jeez, i might as well write in my journal!", i said to myself But isn't it just the lure of the audience that the artist yearns for and certainly there has been a grand testimony to that, since the internet. It's fabulous. The art, the video art, the new writing, the old, music that swings (Tab Benoit) and music that sings (Etta James). The musician and the actor are affected and effected by this constant affirmation of their art (after EVERY performance!!) But writers? Artists? It might take a lifetime and you might be dead before they discover your special brand of brilliance and insight!!!!hahahahaha

My lesson from today was "you're a sick puppy, lady and you better get your act together or they're going to throw you into the loony bin. Hmmmm. Yes, "you've got yourself into quite a kettle" - my doctor said!! which got me thinking about the definition of RECOVERY! What the hell is it, then? Is it the ability to be happy and cut your meat properly and pay your bills on time and drive and smile, smile, smile. O, I really was angry this a.m. and i let the world know it. I'd had it. And then the email from the lawyer guy. I have to learn to live with other options, that's ok.

Well, these personal things aside, i am experiencing a prolonged sense of discontinuity - of not being attached. It's a bit depressing, actually. I miss my house on Victoria, which was ripped from, my sheepdog torn from me and some of my precious little family treasures kept along the years lost in the shuffle. A teddy I'd had for ages and ages. My parents died twenty-five years ago and my brother twenty years - things get boiled down to photographs and old birthday cards.

If i hear there's a rat in the cupboard, mind you, ha!, I'll find it! It's just there's something wrong that went down and i'm trying to isolate what it was and what was it composed of and how come i got the short end of the stick. Again. Jesus, Mary and Joseph - I'm like a magnet for drama. I'm so tired.

Now i have to go to some insipid but kindly, older lady. I don't think we match but she's a lovely older woman. I don't know - i'm being right up front with her, though. For me - talk therapy doesn't work. I feel like talking about myself about as much as i'd like an iron pot 'on side o' my head'!!. I know all the antidotes - i used to spew them out, day after day, my whole career. I just don't see the value of them anymore. She wants me to design the therapy, so perhaps i'll i do something psycho-dramatic. It could be cool.
signing off,
Inspector heather

Basically whacked

2011-11-16T17:48:00.001-05:00

I have been going through a blender with regards to the "breakup". The most touted line in history must be: 'i wish i'd never met him/her'. I was reading a piece on Meghan Fox who described the end to a recent relationship that was so painful, she still could hardly speak about it! Two years long, she'd suffered. God, have mercy.

i seem to have been depressed ever since i saw Dr. B. on Monday a.m. Sometimes he tells the truth - i hate it when doctors do that!! but as far as the "breakup" - all will follow its natural course.....life will prevail. I will start with loving myself and see how that goes.

None of what i'm going through makes sense. But this is not the time to be thinking My immune system is in bad shape. i've lost interest in food, friends, going out, talking, relating, bathing (highly over-rated), hair is almost totally grey now, haven't had it styled for almost two years. Even spiritually, i feel like a dry leaf flying down the street - aimless and useless. Plus, i'm deaf (cold) and i can't hear any conversation which is a drag but in this house, it is a total blessing (three children under eight). I just smile and watch them fight! Wheeeeeee - what fun as one kicks the other, the next one screams, the other one cries for dinner and over and over. And the funny part is, the way my budget is, i will NEVER be able to move away!! I think i'll invest in earplugs. Lots of seniors will be moving in with their kids and the kid's kids - well, this is why the young have babies!!

BTW - i lost eighty lbs. and i didn't even get a carrot stick from the doctor! (I met his goal in 11 months). But now, i have no energy and my anger has no place to go but IN (leading to depression); very low affect. Want to sleep all the time. No energy. Confused. Basically whacked.

Lightening rod from hell

2011-11-13T21:36:00.000-05:00

Ok. Here's the deal. I just went through a breakup and have been through hell, didn't like it, got out, but but but but.....nothing makes sense. In my mind. In my intellect at this particular moment and always. Yes. I had dignity ripped from me again and turmoil and injury are following me like my shadow. The mental case: Language and mental health. Interesting topic. (I can't believe the ebb of duplication - abrupt, insane thoughts going through my mind). It was, well, hell!!!! (as it would be for anyone). But the "how" of the break-up will never be told. And to me, that is not justice but discriminatory. But, don't the injustices in life be funnelled through one point and right now that point would be ME!!!!!! Seriously, I feel a dart board.

So in and through retrospection of the TDT (two day tsunami), I discovered a crack in the system, an important one, and i want someone to notice it with me. It feels important to do this so i'm exploring venues on how to deal with the issue: medical malpractice? I'll keep you informed, of course, but the experience has naturally affected my mental health in a TOTALLY unacceptable level of intensity and frequency of the symptoms. This "injustice" might be important in the long run (in terms of planning) but short-term may help me more fully understand what happened.

My life situation now involves my daughter, her husband and their three children, aged 8, 4, and one. Yes. Two friends have come forward that i didn't really expect would. Nah, the one, for sure. N. will always be there for me.

Will it ever end?

Will what ever end?

I am getting more treatment so i suppose that's good but i hate social workers - I've had three bad experiences with them over the years that have coloured me, of course, but just the telling and re-telling and hashing over my "issues" is too hard. I get worse when i do it. But i do get very tired, keeping it inside - i'm for lettin' it all hang out there. NOT!! I want discretion and dignity, keeping it all straight is good and having a good advocate. If only i had a secretary following me around!!! At least there are no other drugs they can give me (i think!). Enough is enough. But it's not that of which i am concerned. It's the mental legitimacy of a mental patient's view. Competency, i guess. Truth or fiction - you tell me? Really, people think there's no way a mental patient could also be sane.

I put Owen back on my page. I miss him so much, i ache. I feel sick walking by a pet store and i slow down and watch, whenever a large dog goes by. So. I don't want to forget him.

2011-10-29T10:08:00.000-04:00

I don't like the new style format and so might find a different spot to blog. I'm going to snoop around.

So much of life is sometimes unexpected. Conception, revolution, creativity, death, inspiration, divorce, mental illness, et al. Vie - mais oui? I've been the raving she-wolf sometimes because of injustice and then purring mommy cat, wanting to give give away - the T.V., the car - anything, all i have. That, i realized is why i have nothing!

I used to worry alot about that - why did i not have an attachment to "things" like my siblings did. but the better question now is, "why do i want to give everything away?". And, truthfully, i think it's a bit pathological and obvious. I want to be accepted, fear of staying in one place, a sense of "place" by being different, the whole ca-ca deal with that family thing with the will (o, god/de). etc. blah, blah. But there we see it as "pathological". What if it was simply philanthropic? What if it was a desire to give all because of some spiritual end or human compassionate act. My Aunt Mary used to say "Charity begins at home". No - charity is everwhere after your needs are met. So what are my needs? Maslow's whole list, i suppose. That's about it.

But now, i am trying to cozy up for the winter in my new digs. I like them and i like that my granddaughter (age four) can come down, snuggle and fall asleep in my arms in bed with me. I'm CONSTANTLY losing things and she is the best retriever EVER!! My little darlin'. "I know where it is, Nan" - she says to me. One day i heard my grandson tell one of his friends trying to explain why something wasn't ready - "You know how Nana forgets things sometimes" and the friend said "O, yeah, right" - no judgment, just a statement of fact!!! It was very cute.

I have always enjoyed being around young life and the crazy, exciting years of development. I also enjoyed the young students in University who i lived next door to - i think i had met four sets of them. One fellow was particularly endearing to me. I miss him alot. But here are these young people with dreams id going into the world to make as much as they can. My most recent ex used to get so discouraged as a professor - seeing how conservative and market oriented many of the youth are. But i would always encourage him - the liberal battle is worth fighting. If we but touch one life...So little focus on teaching the classical, past and current civil unrest has defined every country. What matters more - things or people? There are so many things and with the deification of Steve Jobs technology is, and will remain the present and the future. I am a complete BONEHEAD because i don't want ANYTHING permanent. It scares the hell out of me.

REDO - i used to love to redo my life, my home, my city, my friends, etc. I was the "Queen of Change". At some point i stopped enjoying it as it became an onerous curse and chain around my neck. Like it is right now. I just want to huddle down for the winter - ( Gol/de, i'm freezing in this house!! - but i'm a firm believer in "well then, put on a sweater"!!, an admonishment my mother would say to us at the cottage when we were talking 'see your breath in the morning' cold' !!!.

2011-10-27T22:39:00.000-04:00

World Series - could be final game if Texas wins. Don't know whether to root for our League or the underdog (St. Louis Cardinals) I miss watching the ball games with my no-longer partner. I mixed my meds up today and took the evening ones in the a.m. By noon i was having a panic-attack, crying when i finally got home. Poor son-in-law but he is such a compassionate man. I'm feeling much better about being in my new digs at my daughter's home. One day at a time. I love being with the children more and i am making some old connections again.....reaching out. The last "reaching out" left me quivering in a mass under the covers fending off flashback but i'm not going to let that deter me. Game tied; top of 7th. I miss the dog, you know, but sometimes a dog is in your life for a special reason and then they provide service to someone else and i know he is with a good dog-owner and will take good care of him. I went to the Humane Society and it was sad to see if there were any comparable dogs but they were all WAY too tense and active for me. I'll try next week.

I don't think people realize how many people are one cheque away from being homeless or poor, poor, poor. living with family.when or while the inevitable plays out. It's crazy...in more ways than one. The latest figures for WELFARE and ODSP (Ontario Disability Support Program). Welfare is a program which will demand the individual provide documented efforts for looking for job. It provides 586.00 / month. ODSP provides..1264.00 per month and is provided for individuals with disabilities which, more than likely, will not improve over time. The welfare payment does not make sense and is not a living wage. ODSP is way under the poverty line and yet these programs are touted as appropriate and that the job market will be able to accommodate them. You are allowed 3,000.00 in bank at all times. Any more money provided from any source can be used to prepay a funeral or continue helpful therapies. I'm sure there's other reasons but i forget what the are. The only connection for people is

Mental health and justice system, etc.

2011-10-27T04:05:00.001-04:00

I'm pretty much still sad but things (separations, deaths, etc.) take time to heal. It has been almost two months. Today was a very bad day with flashbacks and complete exhaustion and confusion. I went out yesterday and met WAY too many people. There was not enough time to respond to everything and just images today float by with the difficult ones rising to the top! I wish i could manipulate the internet better because i saw this photo the other day that SO pictures one aspect of PTSD on film. It depicted how their are two views, two 'lenses' if you will, that sufferers see or experience. Interpretation is everything. Reality is irrelevant. I thought today - why me? - you know, is this some kind of Sylvia Plath (without the suicide) thing? Does this make me a more "authentic" artist. I can't do tech stuff. Does mean i'm supposed to write? I am a very anti-social person now. Is that because i am to be alone, completely alone to write? Not sure where this is coming from but you know what i mean. I'm tired, i guess and feel like complaining. The main thing i wanted to say was about a story i heard (from the horse's mouth) - as in HEARD vs."read"!! - about her recent experience with the justice system; being apprehended under the Mental Health Act (for talking about suicide), waiting in the emerg for six hours until a G.P. comes and says "you were just trying to egg him on, right". She said - "Yeah, for sure, that's right" (anything to get home) and off she went back home in the back of the cop car. Later that day she was charged for acts of, what she guesses someone interpreted as criminal. She did not. Again, it is all in the interpretation and there are always two sides to every story. That being sad, our PTSD woman was processed under the "Mental Health Diversion Program" in the court system where those, who do not have a record and who have mental health issues can apply for and, if successful in complying with the orders set down by the court will have the charges expunged after a year. She was released to her family after having spent almost two days without her meds, sitting in a cell about 3x6 overnight, frozen with a cement slab to lie on and the most disgusting toilet she had EVER seen and probably the ultimate humiliation there (for her) was being VIDEOTAPED when everything she did, including peeing. I asked her if anyone heard her side of the story, of what you saw happen. No. They did not. She was a mental patient, had threatened suicide the night before and did not "have a story". In her state of mind, it was determined, she could not see the truth. We PTSDers are crazy but we're not bloody stupid. The whole episode, as she described it, made me ill. My therapist reminded me this week - you don't get "justice" from the courts - that's not what they're designed for!!! I laughed at how right on she was.

2011-10-01T13:19:00.001-04:00

October first - one month later.

There might be mitigating factors in this tragedy which would be interesting to go over more objectively through and certainly "cleansing" but a stain's a stain. You can't meditate this type of pain away. You can MEDICATE it away but how sad and lonely is that place that has no voice. but not punching even can never truly be achieved. It reminds me of the time i lost my entire family (four siblings and all their children) after the reading of my mother's death. One of those seriously life changing event which might be traumatic if i wasn't such as the Mulligas' are made - strong and sour, ready to take anyone on! wiser than you might think and puffy - thinking they're something a tad better than any one else.

There was one Mulligan, though, Gerry the eldest's, eldest son. He was an odd boy - saw him squish a frog one day to see what it was made of - he didn't know that it was wrong to do that. Jesus. Ach, as a teenager, young adult and on to adulthood he needed watching. He had the good fortune of getting hired by the factory in town and he did a steady, menial, semi-mindless job of putting one bolt on the hatchet and passing it down the line - this kind of job. Got paid for that and he contributed to the household generously. This was his redemption ticket and he knew it.

Margie, his sister was way past her prime at twenty-seven and was not what you'd call a comely woman. Over time it soured her and it become too difficult to keep the facade up and - oh, that beautiful smile she saved for the gentlemen - she became resigned to being single but her family were ever hopeful.

You'd think it might've been easier for the eldent McGregor, but the challenges kept up. After the last child, his wife had a stroke. Not much to do but keep her clean, fed and in the wheelchair but hell, it takes alot of his time. Margie picked up the slack but she didn't mind. It's not that she had anything elso to do. Her mother's disability just became part of the family's life. The neither objected or critized how life had changed, they just adapted.

I'm sad

2011-09-01T18:10:00.000-04:00

Love's gain is pain and breaking points and so much confusion and anger at promises made and played out like battles fought and lost in No Mans' Land. Sadness inside of illness. Loss inside of a broken heart.

2011-08-27T07:02:00.001-04:00

The party line is - you mustn't milk the kindness of others. By the by, the sea rolls in. Mother Nature winked and yawned and spawned and cringed and recoiled and spat out storm after storm, her rigid fury now unstoppable for war crimes against nature, she will not waiver. In seasons past, the stage set, the lights dim, then twinkle, then stare back. Do i glower, do i groan? Do i bemoan? Yes, all of that and more!! The moon will not rise, the woman wail again and then? The Son becomes a Father no more.

The party line is - take your faith and your conscience and your morals and values and priorities and fundamentals and shove them up your ass. Take your breath away, how many are contained by our limits and how little we think, offer, give, contribute, provide when really, the playground never changes. The rules never change. We always give what we can, when we can.

So, i scowl and shake, stutter and stake my claim on Parliament Hill that never can i be and neither should i see ignorance in defense of logic by nonsense inferred, deferred, hurled back like tornado roaring through town, scratching a line for us to decipher. It's not worth it. At some point in one's life, doesn't one just wonder if it's worth it. Left-turn, right turn, full stop. Yield. Breathe. But, dear reader, if you think "it" is life, then let me hold you and remind you of every living good thing on this sacred earth. But no, i enter into no contract of ego that lets me think my life is in my hands, when, really, it never, throughout my life, has been. And happily never so!!! My life belongs to Life. There are others, always others. These choices people keep talking about - when do i get some? Everybody says that. We're, all of us, pretty much the same, i think. We want to watch our children thrive.

Emotion, thought, behavior?

2011-08-07T22:08:00.000-04:00

....or thought, emotion, behavior....or emotion, behavior, thought.

PTSD is, to me, primarily an EMOTIONAL disorder made manifest by the BEHAVIORS of having difficulties in establishing meaningful relationships, expressing misplaced anger or rage responses inappropriately, agoraphobic fears of small places, open spaces, who's behind, what's ahead, alienation with family, making poor (sometimes disastrous, panicked) decisions with money, difficulty with maintaining employment, lack of proper boundaries - getting too close, too soon; stung by flashbacks without warning, triggers lurking everywhere; needing regular recuperation time - three or four months at a time. So tired. Sleep. No panic. Sleep. no fear. Sleep, won't think.

PTSD is, to me, an emotional, behavioral and MENTAL DISORDER collapsing emotion and behavior into one mental quagmire involving memory lapses and flashes and flaws and monster rationalizations. To go out now, i ask: how do i get out of this? Why did that happen way back then? How is justice delivered? Will "so and so" help me fill out my tax forms? Will they please stop calling my short term memory loss "cute". Why can i recite a Shakespearean sonnet i learned in high school and now not be able to read for ten minutes? Why can i write these words but never could write case notes or do statistics O, sigh.

PTSD is, to me, A PAIN IN THE ASS.

R. is gone; my life starts now

2011-07-21T11:05:00.001-04:00

Miracles happen according to interpretation. A miracle to you, a curse for me, same way with the concept "recovery". You get it, i don't. What about hunger? I eat, you die". I'm pretty sure the idea of life having no absolutes presupposes the phenomena of "miracle". This begs the question - why you, not me? Life sucks, where you are or where you've been or where you're going. Whatever. At some point, it sucks. I've landed into "el Depresso" a Western town populated by sad people. Really. I'm working on being chipper but i'm feeling pretty restrained financially and that always bums me out. This one is heavier though - has more "pieces" to it. I've several epiphanies but nothing has panned out yet.

My new mantra is "R. is gone. My life starts now". That got me thinking how HORRIBLE it is to be treated in mental health facilities (except Homewood Hospital in Guelph, Ontario - a good, healing Centre). They get it there. You're a person. Something happened but you're still a person. Everyone i know and see, views me through a mental health lens now. Yay. I think that's why i like to be alone alot. No 'pictures' are being taken. I'm very paranoid about communications technology (probably why i seem to have some kind of curse with my cumputers!!)..., actually - the effect of WiFi especially, the cell phone complete takeover of the world and brain, the little pluggie earphone things that wreck your hearing by the time you're forty. What is a land-line anyways?!! O, man - it would be a miracle to slow down. You know - once in a while i like it when no one knows where i am and they have no way of getting in touch with me. It's very freeing!!

Hyper-vigilance has always made sense to me as it expresses in fear of the people around and my ALWAYS have to be vigilant of who is near me. Safe? Yes? No? i also can get over-whelmed with too much sensitivity arousal. Every arousal sensation or sound is amplified and is difficult to process. It starts to create confusion which can throw me into a flashback and i'm gone! I really have to live alone. Who ON EARTH would ever make sense of anything to do with my brain and then want to live with it!!!hahahaha. Well, life moves on. R. is gone. My life starts NOW!

P.S. Margaret Trudeau (ex-wife of a previous, now deceased Prime Minister, Pierre Elliot Trudeau. She makes me sick. No "normal" person can afford umpteen (or five years of therapy sessions, etc. etc. Of course you feel better. You've made a ton with your books!!!hahahaha

I really am praying for the grace of strength to hold my ground and stay clear of any thoughts i have of future relations with R. Ross is gone. My new life starnt now

Alexander Samuel Kofi Bempah Aboagye - my third gorgeous grandchild

2011-06-29T23:23:00.004-04:00

Before i start to tell you,
you must believe in pumpkin pie, rich and fine
all made by someone else, so secret but near the celebration of abundance
with balloons flying high;
not even a cry as you trusted and trusted and giggled in time.

The story is of Alex, babe and toddler now,
he came to the crawl with bumps on the head and strategies brewing
He circles the house, lets see what's here
He does the crawl and perfectly so, intent and
with purpose, exhibiting perfect form, of course;
consider his lineage!

Steady goes the course with a world to see and say
and as his siblings discovered long ago,
charm goes a long, long way,
It helps to pave the way!

Happy and even, interested and thoughtful,
he's Alex the man. Hey, Mr. Alex - we love you.
Hey darling baby, you are cute and calm and cuddly.
My third as blessed as the rest,
presenting yourself in his way, as he is:
beautiful.

Brain Drain

2011-06-23T09:16:00.001-04:00

Effects of PTSD

"Of the 2 million Americans who have served in the current wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, at least 400,000. or as much as 20 percent, have developed or are at risk of developing PTSD, a psychological condition caused by exposure to severe trauma.

Some 23 million veterans, like many people, will later face more common illnesses, such as cancer, heart disease and Alzheimer's, as a function of aging. But a growing body of work shows these diseases may be exacerbated by traumatic stress, the researchers found.

For example, veterans with PTSD are two to three times more likely to develop heart disease than those who do not have the disorder.

"These are young men and women, most of whom do not yet have heart disease," said Dr. Beth Cohen, a staff physician at the hospital, in a statement about her research. "If we can learn why they are at greater risk now, we can find ways to help avoid heart disease later in life."

Unlike heart disease, no effective ways to prevent or treat Alzheimer's disease yet exist, but researchers are studying soldiers' brains to learn more about how combat-related stress affects the brain's biology and increases the chance of developing Alzheimer's.

They have found that a section of the hippocampus - the part of the brain that is devoted to short-term memory and learning new things - is significantly smaller in veterans with PTSD. Researchers are trying to determine if this smaller section can grow over time with therapy and treatment for stress.

"It's possible new stem cells, new brain cells are made, or it's possible the existing neurons or cells get plumper or have more synapses and connection," said Weiner, also professor of medicine, radiology, psychiatry and neurology at UCSF. "Nobody knows. Our ability to probe the brain and understand these mechanisms is really limited."
S.F. Chronicle
Victoria Colifer

2011-06-18T11:27:00.001-04:00

I have to walk Owen every day but some weeks it is every other day. I try to get excited about doing it because it is THE highlight in his day we both feel better afterwards 'Funny', i thought on my way home today, 'i feel mentally just as SHITTY as i did starting out'! I am drowning in paranoia (which makes me doubt my thoughts waves of guilt and anger (righteous or otherwise), emotionally drained and mentally frazzled or dopey, depending on if i choose to take prescribed medication.

Mind/ Emotions; Physical/ Spiritual.

I've been working on what defines stress (from my perspective not withstanding all the measuring tools out there (ie. death of spouse/parent - 100; marriage dissolution - 80, etc, etc,

2011-06-16T10:54:00.001-04:00

I'm angry, almost enraged but it must either be a righteous anger or a medically subdued, more calculating rage. I might be even be a rant about the whole freakin' world.

Money.
The pleasure of it
The power manipulation that surrounds it
The excess of it
The need, the basic needs - to eat, to be clothed, to have housing that it so difficult to obtain in these days.

A Vist to the Psychiatrist's Office

2011-06-10T16:20:00.001-04:00

I sat, alone, thinking i'd be ok, emboldened because my partner sat in the car right outside and would come in if i needed him. The waiting room was crowded and it turned out it was also a "general drop-in clinic". Now i notice coughing children; people without a doctor; a tall man with blonde hair sat in the corner. He was thin and wore glasses. I didn't see him as a threat. I took in the rest of the room, scheming where i would sit and how i would escape.

The receptionist carded me and waved me off to wait. I was truly concerned about sitting beside 'the flu' and 'the cough' sputtering phlegm spray in my direction. That would be BAD if i got sick!! Weird what you have to think of when you're older and weakened by other ailments. I'm not embarrassed about wearing those cloth, throw-away masks, either.

A small man of Asian descent waved at me. He had to speak with this one woman and be right back. That sounded reasonable. True to his word, he soon came back and ushered me through the physically sad, sickly, waiting bunch and we made a quick right turn to his office, a very small (really small!) office. i quickly sat in, as if i had no option, it was so close to the door My knees were touching his desk.

I waited while he read my file. (Jesus Murphy, i thought, you'd think he would have done that BEFORE i got there).

I waited ten minutes, watching him nod his head and turn pages back and forward. I felt embarrassed and uncomfortable knowing that this man, whom i'd never met before, was reading about horribly painful, personal events of my life. Yuk. Not again. I actually have flash cards now, with the abuse events written on them. i REFUSE to keep telling "Doctor" strangers about "what happened". Afterwards, I experience extremely painful after-effect: flashbacks, depression, racing thoughts.

He set the file down.

"So how do you feel right now? What would be your most troublesome symptom? Are you depressed?

"Anxious No. Yes. I'm very confused. I'm basically anxious a lot of the time".

"Well, you're drugs look good. I'm pleased with them. Keep on this track and i will see you in three months".

End of consultation.

Gotta love it.

Now, girls and boys, the moral of this story is LOWER YOUR EXPECTATIONS!

2011-05-31T09:22:00.001-04:00

People acting on speculation, not fact. Can it be any other way? Mental illnesses are all painted with the same brush.

My daughter thought this following link would be good for a movie plot. Another friend said - "Aldous Huxley" must be rolling in this grave (he wrote 'Brave New World' (and other books!!) describing the state's power over and takeover of people lives and individuality). How better to enslave people than to control their minds!! Holy Cow!!

http://www.cbc.ca/m/touch/news/story/2011/05/26/science-drug-memories-ptsd.html7
Basically, it's a story about a drug being 'researched' to erase, nullify, etc. bad memories

Sorry, you'll have to cut and paste. I can't figure out how to insert site addresses.

And these American ads on television regarding Depression drugs. Are you bummed out? There's a drug for that and after you take it, you'll be happy at the cottage with breeze wafting through your hair, watching your daughter and husband swim in the lake. Jesus Murphy. BUT WAIT!!! If they don't work, you can always try "Serquel" - the drug of choice for depression that, well, just won't go away!! EXCUSE ME - has any psychiatrist who prescribes this drug ever TAKEN this drug. God, you might as well do a lobotomy for all the affect you lose.

It just bugs me. So much misinformation. Maybe i'm watching/reading too much 'media-contrived' info - most of it based on - yup, you guessed it - speculation!

The hysteria of anxiety

2011-05-24T23:57:00.002-04:00

FICTION
My anxiety underlines everything. When in a comfortable, safe environment i can articulate my feelings around whatever it is i'm anxious about. As previously mentioned, i am so grateful for the partner i have, that such a fella' would stay the course with a jelly-mind like me! And my daughter and her family. A friend or two (or three). God. There are little pockets of love and healing where anxiety is found. Otherwise, it sucks, of course. Bloody worry and fuss about everything. Racing thoughts....questions, questions, questions. "What about that?...Have you thought about this..." - o Lord or Lady, they are never-ending. Sometimes, depression is a break!hahahahah but, really, sleep is sometimes the only answer. But the rushing and spinning and speeding up and wanting so much to live and not die....completely irrational thinking. But, it's mine!!! And so...

What is it that drives anxiety? Depression? Lack of self-confidence? Low self-esteem? Severe (or otherwise) boundary violations (sexual abuse, rape?). Fear. Fear is what drives anxiety. Aha. We got down to it. What am i afraid of? Well, that's a whole 'nother kettle of fish, isn't it!

Of course, anxiety leads to panic and i am so grateful that only happens occasionally to me. I suppose panic is to anxiety what suicide thoughts are to depression.

Once in awhile, when i'm stupid enough to tell somebody about my illness, i get the line - "Yeah, depressed, down, like we all get"! Those are people i just like to call "wrong"!!!! (from T.V. commercial for Metamucil :) ). Anyways, i am better at it now (better boundaries) and do my best to recognize the misinformed and stay clear of them.

So, um, what are we afraid of? It certainly is scary; like going into a haunted house. TO BE CONTINUED

It's hard to stay on the path

2011-05-16T11:56:00.002-04:00

Why exaggerated response? (a symptom of PTSD)
What startled and frightened us so much that we are still so anxious? I use to think E.R. was just an over-reaction to a shocking event. Like hearing the news of your mother's death and not being able to stop crying.

On further reflection, i realized i had been describing a REACTION rather than a RESPONSE. A 'response' requires some analysis and consent of opinion and behavior. A 'reaction' is immediate, without design or even self-awareness.

A 'response' is more complex and requires forethought. But both involve involuntary acts such as 'unconscious behavior'. If i just turned around and stabbed myself after hearing my mother had died, that would be an exagerrated response. Planning self-injurious behavior in an attempt to deal with emotional pain are also examples of exaggerated response. Seeking out abusive relationships in order to maintain the poor self-esteem the abuse effected (and cemented in) is an exaggerated response as well, i suppose. UGH. SLUG. Who would want me (because of what "i" did?/what happened to me/what i saw, etc. OOOps - i think that was the "Enraged Eyore" speaking (see three or four posts ago).

"Why don't i like myself?; I must be a schlep", all the way to "i wish i were dead" and everything else in between. Everyone deals with it but the constant nagging return of depression turns bitterness and resignation, it amplifies regrets and self-loathing. It's mind-numbing, depression is. Everything is seen in the light of failure. None of this "don't forget, you were a "....." and did did amazing in "......". That's all wonderful, truly, but why do i still feel like a slug crawling to safety.

Does the sadness really go away in time? Does time heal all wounds?; If you push "it" down, does "it" stay down? No.

After several mental "crash and burns" over the years, i never clicked into why they (not that i ever called them "breakdowns) happened. I never called them "breakdowns". I thought i just had to leave my job (although, usually in a crisis) every two or three years because i was "brilliant" and "different" and that i needed the time to "reflect" and "regroup" and "integrate" what i had learned and move on. I had to move residence almost as frequently although not necessarily at the same time. I did move three times on the one small street so my daughter had a long-term residence for some important formative years. Anyways, i needed six to eight months off to regain my balance - go to therapy somewhere or tend to some family emergency and then, out of desperation, i'd climb back out into the employment world for a few (maybe four) years. O, i'd perform like a star (at least i thought so!!!) and then burn out or become afraid that they would, you know, (shhhhh) find out!....that i was "...." and a "....." and a "....." and a...,etc, etc, - very little self-esteem as you can tell. ZOOM, we go. Bye Bye. This might be another example of exaggerated response??!!

When i cry at bank tellers. That might be another example.

"It clings like dust in the mind, blowing through memory spiderwebs", meaningless lines going nowhere". (Nice thought, didn't want to lose it.)

i wanted desperately to show my daughter a 'normal' life. But i also needed her to know how to survive, how to get through difficult situations, how to maintain 'faith' (in herself or whatever) as she will sometimes walk through the desert. That's what i did and did the best i could do. I hoped she knows how important these tasks were for me. Surviving and maintaining faith when the bottom looks close.

Life sometimes shatters like shards of glass from a dropped vase. There are critical moments, and the mind and spirit will be at their weakest and a crucial decision will have to be made and she will need to be strong and decisive. She is strong. I do. I want her to be strong. Before you are strong, you need to be learn compassion and kindness and she's already got that licked!

2011-05-09T08:22:00.001-04:00

Why exagerrated response?
I now have sensitivity to every day things that never used to bother me. Going to a party. Walking in the park. Going shopping. Visiting

Does the brain say "STOP? I can't process this". Surprise trauma lurks around every corner and i do my damnedest to stay away from any Where do the startling and frightening events go if they can't get processed by the mind? The popular vernacular they get "buried" like an "average" horror (like an unexpected death). This is the communally, socially acceptable way.

For chronic PTSD sufferers, it scatters like shards of glass right at that time of the incident but sometimes even years later can cause a breakdown alot due to the the constant struggle to appear normal!! By the time i had my breakdown (i think they call it a "Major Depressive Episode" now) i felt an immediate inability to affect the changes which my life would go through. (tears). makes some everyday things seem like a horrible threat or some surreal, distorted perception of a threat. Whatever.

Why such low self-esteem?
Meaning - "why don't i like myself; I must be a schlep", all the way to "i wish i were dead" and everything else in between. Everyone suffers from it. Who among us has not contemplated ending it? But the constant nagging negativity (which major depressives deal with) of depression can turns to bitterness and resignation, regrets and self-loathing and mind-numbing melancholy. Everything is seen in the light of failure. None of this "don't forget, you were a "....." and did "......". That's all wonderful, truly but why do i still feel like a slug crawling to safety.

Why dissociation and flashbacks?
Dissociation does not mean "psychotic break". I think of it as a mind on "pause". Something has been said which has triggered a memory of a traumatic event which was never properly processed (and still isn't) and so requires a comfortable response: deliberate separation of mind/body. A spit if you will, while the mind works to avoid what is happening physically by mentally "leaving the physical scene". I try very hard not to do this when my grandchildren are around so the won't think Nana is a kookoo. My daughter slaps me across the face (metaphorically!) and my partner keeps asking me where - London, Kitchener, Toronto. i am whenever i "go away". Sometimes i'm as far away as Vancouver!!

Why flashbacks
Dissociation is usually triggered by an event happening in the present and where becoming lost in the past seems the preferred option. Different from dissociation, where confusion sets in and a dreamy, fractured sense of something having gone, flachbacks can suck me right back to the scene of the crime in no time at all! The smells, the colour of the wall, the light of the t.v. - vivid play by play of the trauma. The lens through which a chronic PTSDer sees all of this is fear and dread. flashback - repeating the traumatic event over and over where i feel i'm there, i sense i am there, i can usually see where i am. It seems like a lengthy and prolonged state of being. For me it has also manifested hostile anger, depression, loss of self-esteem and eventually an attraction to self-harm (a common response to guilt/shame). i usually end up in a fetal position, possibly weeping, head-spinning, thoughts racing and afraid of losing my mind. I "think" about 'breathing-in, breathing out' and 'self-care', having a bath nd going for a walk but that's all pretty hard to do when you're mentally paralyzed.

It seems awfully unfair that, not only do PTSDers have to experience the trauma, they have to relive it over and over. If only perpetrators of crime understood the life-long negative effect any abuse has on the victims.

Thank you to Liberal Party Volunteers re: Federal Election 2011

2011-05-04T09:10:00.008-04:00

I am in mourning. The "Liberal" party is on life-support. Values and priorities for Canadians are shifting. Very different from my experience as a child and different from what i hoped i inspired in my daughter. Of course, she makes me proud, that gal - got involved in the whole campaign effort. Well, here's my thought:

Great things evolve; mediocre ideas dissolve. There is no doubt that the assignment of the Liberal Party is to point out inequities - a role i hope the never relinquish. But right now - i wouldn't to get into a fightin' match with that Jack Layton - he's got the look of lucky Irish scrapper! Look out Conservative Party!! And i hope for blessings for the re-building of the Liberal Party (please, Justin, don't run for leader!!!). There are always lines in between lines, aren't there!

Anyways, i just wanted to say thank you to all candidates and volunteers for all the work you put in to make our dream a reality. Your efforts will not be forgotten....and our ideas are not mediocre.

Federal Election in Canada; Stardate 2.5.2011 - final rant

2011-05-02T21:41:00.003-04:00

Computor, open Personal log, heather#delta 5 squared.

We are pathetic grains of sand, infitisimally small particles of matter temporarily occupying this space and time. Can you imagine the species and categories and sub-categories and deliniations of every living thing from the reciting of the Klingon language to the lowly amoeba or even, gasp, the Conservative party. Ferengi Rules of Life to a lowly slug, or say, the Conservative party.

All living matter moves from life to another place in the universe (like, where kings like to live). I pray for a safe and illuminating journey for all Conservatives from the lonliness of the spotlight to the lofty not-so-soft pillows of reflection and post-berating until reconciliation and consensus runs through you again like the Red River of Alberta. O, Conservatives, enjoy the universe. Really, after all, you are god-like and bless and punish us as you see fit, you belong there. Out there, in the universe. Your angels of Ministers sing choirs of fiefdom and fiction. It's ok to be completely WRONG. Trust me. We've all been there. Your calculated, pointed bashing of others' ideas along with your subterfuge with misrepresentation; your misguided appropriation of funds mostly because you failed to consult. - all have hurt but we were defenceless. Perhaps we still are. You know. Stunned.

We need moral direction, not just economic plans. Some of us feel a vacuum where values should be. We need the arts and creativity and education elevated and nurtured and valued. We need to care for people, the animals and the earth and its bounty. We need to share more. Is democracy now just the tyranny of economics?

Ach, the poor will always be with us.

Well, if i were to relate this rant to PTSD i would say - "yup, us crazies, we do think and ponder, write and participate. But we must be careful - there is a fine line between ranting and being paranoid as rational "ranting" is an unnatural act for the mentally il!. But as they say - 'just because i'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not after me"!!

Computer, close Personal Log.

2011-04-29T06:46:00.001-04:00

I have an appointment with a psychiatrist next month and am excited and also wondering if i am going to see him more that once because of the 12 other psychiatrists i've never, i would never see them again! I am nervous wondering how everything will get interpreted because every doctor comes from a different perspective on the same disorders or illnesses. And i refuse to tell my story again - why should i end up on bed for two days suffering with flashbacks after i do. So i developed flash cards!! I've used them twice and the first guy thought i was going too far out of the "norm" of the meeting (god/de) but what the hell do i care?? Hey Doc - every take Seroquel??? Do you have to regularly explain to your family why you can't get up. Are you able to drive on the highway? Have you ever had your mind probed? How about Clonazepam, Clonazepam, Lamotragine, etc, etc. Well, you'd have to explain why you can't speak! You work in mental health - what more can we expect!!!???

The history of mental health treatment is unbelievable, really. The abuses and ridiculous theories; the actual torture of people who 'didn't fit in', had behavior that confused their families and friends. And there were no individual rights, of course so they weren't obliged to let you go after three days!! People spent their lifetimes in institutions/ sanitariums all because they spoke unendingly morbid or refused to go to church, or cited a radical political idea but also those who had legitamte mental health issues were untreated and painfully mad.

2011-04-17T13:45:00.001-04:00

We are pathetic grains of sand, infitisimally small particles of matter temporarily occupying this space and time. Can you imagine the species and categories and sub-categories and deliniations of every living thing from a lowly slug to say, the Conservative party. All living matter moves from life to another place in the universe. I pray for a safe and illuminating journey for all Conservatives from the lonliness of the spotlight to the lofty not-so-soft pillows of reflection and post-berating until reconciliation and consensus runs through you again like the Red River of Alberta. Really, after all, you're only human. It's ok to be completely WRONG. Trust me. We've all been there. Your prior calculated, pointed bashing of others' ideas and your subterfuge with misrepresentation of your intent have hurt. We were defenceless. But no more. We can see with our eyes and hear with our own ears. We hope for a new way to communicate our different values.

"Canadian valus" or "Canadian identity" was thoroughly discussed in the 90's, all of us concerned about Canada without Quebec, keeping our peace-keepers and how we were a "kinder" nation, more than anything else, responders rather than reactors. Multiculturalism has continued to embrace the practice of weaving cultures and world views together. In our "Canadian identity" vacuum, we are happy, indeed, to embrace each other, brothers and sisters, all from the human family and all across the world. This is what makes us great. This could be the last great diaspora as we start, like other great diasporas, the painful process of sharing and learning to live together. To fix the imbalance, the big "share" will be the best "share"!!

2011-04-12T00:23:00.001-04:00

How stung and sorry was Everyman when, like mist, values disappeared and like vapours, people became unmanageable. What we shared was a memory in books, googled ever day, discarded photos on hard drives passed on. There were the whiffs of promises and proclamations and declarations made. They were unphotogenic moments in a long nightmare.

The Enraged Eeyore

2011-03-28T14:42:00.002-04:00

The necessary position to take is resignation; not really despair but more a sense of futility and "whatever"! Inside of chronic mental/ phsychic pain lies a deep, pounding sense that it will never go away. I remember the first time i took anti-depressants prior to my PTSD diagnosis, after two weeks i was amazed to discover that the veil of constant, disconsolate thinking had magically vanished. I thought clearly, agreed to go to parties, i exercised - and for about four months, it was GREAT!! Then back to me old self - feeling like an enraged Eeyore.

At my last job (advocate for homeless), one client showed me (in my car) four sharp cuts, about two inces apart, going across the width of the underside of her forearm. We were in my car so my first-aid box came out and we disinfected, applied the ointment and bandaged her arm in the stall of a Tim Horton's bathroom. When i dropped her off at her rooming house, asking her to promise not to cut herself again and watching her slip and disappear into the crowd, i couldn't move for several minutes and then went right home. But that was when i first understood the behavior "cutting", i mean REALLY understood it.

So what does Eeyore do, that self-deprecating, predictable donkey, always pointing out the worst and following the wrong path.

He might get angry and he might cut himself.

Would you like fries with that?

2011-03-27T12:12:00.001-04:00

My immediate family were stunned people. Paralyzed by generations of secrets coming from unnecessary suffering; denials coming from fear and misunderstaning, communication brakedowns, Resentments, even rage, misrepresentation. Physical, emotional and mental abuse. Regular threats, accusations and blame. Acts of revenge; orchestrated factions. Alcohol and drug addiction, adultery, suicide attempts, theviery, trickery, mockery and pain. Would you like fries with that, Ma'am?
(this is a fictional family)

2011-03-23T10:17:00.001-04:00

NORMAL CONFUSION - a state of mind where the current moment does not make sense. It could be "where is my car" or not understanding what your boss is asking you to do. This confusion is easily resolved.

CRAZY CONFUSION - an experience of feeling overwhelmed by current facts and events. Questions arise, such as "what do i do next". There may be an overlap of confusion and fear with a heightened state of hyper-vigilance where otherwise normal events now will evoke paranoia.

NORMAL TRUST - a mostly accurate and part-subjective, internal assessment of people, events and information. Decision of trust are based on a criteria of reliability, clear intent and evidence.

CRAZY TRUST - boundaries are not clear. skewed by past, negative or traumatic experiences. One either trusts "too much" or "not enough".

Japan

2011-03-13T06:59:00.000-04:00

A nation mourns and suffers and struggles through to survival for today. Life is thoroughly altered with complete dislocation and unfathomable loss. The psychological and spiritual seem dim and will fade and spiral downward. Bodily injury may be attended to or not - in the chaos, a survivor may die.

Mothers, while facing death themselves, watched their children being torn from the land, from life, from them by a wave. Mothers. Many, many mothers. All at the same time. Fathers, sons, daughters, friends, colleagues, neighbors - everyone equaled by nature.

A country will survive in some condition or another and a nation will bind its people together and other countries will help and the country will be rebuilt but the nation will cry night after night for generations for the great loss when a great wave shook them to the foundation.

My heart is broken. Life is unbearable.

2011-03-08T10:44:00.001-05:00

I read an article the other day around the new definitions of mental illnesses the committee on DSM-5 (one of my fav. subjects) destined from its inception to dictate treatment and understanding of the illnesses of the mind.

They are removing "complex" as a reference to trauma, inferring there is no difference in sypmtomes between an individual witnessing one trauma only (say, a car crash) and an ind. witnesses their sister being killed and then is raped six months later and next abused for five years by a husband whom her parents love. Her parents are killed in a car accident the following year. "She" breaks down. That would be the "sequela" of trauma which carries with it different symptoms (and therefore infers different treatment) than non-complex PTSD.

2011-03-07T09:46:00.001-05:00

For what it's worth, finding out about provincial and federal government services is about as easy as teaching a puppy to pee outside. Relevant websites tucked away behind this page and that page. Harder to find; people are disinclined to use service. Hmmmm - makes sense (IF YOU'RE A **$!!????), Politics sucks.

Therapized until stunned

2011-03-02T07:45:00.000-05:00

As follows, a list of fifteen therapists i have attended over the years (since age thirteen).

1. Social worker who looked like Judy LaMarsh (Federal cabinet minister under Pierre Trudeau). Age thirteen-fourteen - My parents thought i was crazy but, really, all that was happening was, i was being sexually molested by their son-in-law and starting to drink and do drugs in response.

2. Psychiatrist after I left my daughter's biological father - around age twenty-two. I moved to another city only after three or four visits and his final prescription (which he wrote on a presc. pad and handed to me) - "Write".

3. Dr. K - bummer psychiatrist. Disappointing because of how motivating previous one was (in Toronto).

4. A whacky M.D. turned therapist: the "love guru". Hitting pillows with tennis rackets, all that stuff.

5. Lifestream - a personal development group. Broke down alot of barriers for me.

6. Two spiritual directors. One, incredibly bad and the other, a blessing.

7, Heather B. - one of the dearest young women i have had the pleasure to know. Helped me identify myself as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. Very hip, cool, wise and professional.

8. Nonie - excellent psycho-drama. Fabulous woman.

9. Father Leo - MSW - good, open inquiry. Very grounding. Very together guy with liberal views regarding faith and sexuality.

10. Denise in KW - A guided Christian method. Enh. Good intentions though. In the end i truly did believe that my mother did the best she could with what she had.

11. Richard - public counseling service. Marital counsel with ex-husband. Unprofessional and totally barking up wrong tree. Simplistic views.

12. Woman from CHS (Canadian Hearing Society). Put stress and hearing loss together. Some simplistic methods (given who she was dealing with) but a good listener. Identified PTSD.

13. MSWs from HOWEWOOD - mental health facility in Guelph, ON. Very helpful.

14. MSW from Hospital. Nice woman. Wrong track. Misled me (and hampered my recovery) with wrong diagnosis.

15. Really CRAPPY private MSW. Yuk. Bad taste in mouth about ALL therapists. Made decision not to go to therapy anymore.

16. Tried once more - in dire straits. One session - Jungian fellow. Looked like Freud. Blah, blah, blah, talk, talk, talk - goes nowhere. One session. Too cheap to pay 110 an hour for such self-absorption. Wanted me to come every week....hahahahah.

Rien

2011-02-23T13:30:00.002-05:00

Rien.

Those damn Americans

2011-02-16T03:22:00.000-05:00

I'm not much for small-talk anymore but i try to exchange a wee banter with the person who checks my groceries through. Today, this woman was new (i go every week) and at first glance she seemed 'dark': blonde, kind of scraggly hair with deep black roots; much too thin, too much makeup, eyes darting around, her body moving out of sync with the space around her. I thought to myself, this is the look of fatigue and the look of frustration after being on her feet for eight hours while being paid a little above minimum wage for the honour to do so. You know, that look.

After hello's and "cold outside", i mentioned how some items seemed pricier this week. She made some loud reference to politics and how the US owes us money and that they borrow too much and why don't they give it back and then prices will go down.

Jesus, i thought - what the hell?

I chose to respond with a subdued "Wow" and "this world is certainly whacky" but i could tell she yearned for me to surrender to her disgust and conspiracies.

We left on shaky ground as she cursed the American banking system because the ATM thingie wouldn't take my bank card.

Yup, this world is certainly whacky.

Mind, body and emotion: disconnect

2011-02-10T12:39:00.001-05:00

As a PTSD sufferer, I experience a disconnect between what's happening to my body and what is going on in my mind.

When i went to Homewood (mental health facility in Guelph, ON, Canada) for eight weeks after my breakdown, the psychologist there diagnosed me with a somatic mental disorder as well as the PTSD. "Soma" - meaning body in Latin; "somatic - as related to the body. She explained to me how i "physicalize" (my word) my emotions. For example, when i am afraid, my upper arm throbs. My sciatica acts up when i am overwhelmed or moving into a heavy depression. My ears bung up and i can't hear when i am stressed (like when meeting a new doctor).

For "regular" people, smooth thinking (again, my word!) is common. It's not even relevant to think about the body, let alone the emotions behind an experience or thought. There really is not enough time. It's hard to separate them, mind and body and it is 'normal' not to engage in too much reflection so we no longer have the inclination to do so. We do not have many social rituals left, instructing us how to do so.

The movement of "getting in touch with your body" lost steam several years ago; again, good therapy inaccessible. Our generation (a collection of old toads) have been replaced by the "ME" generation, you know - the young pups reading "Atlas Shrugged" (by Ayn Rand) for the first time, thinking it's a new Bible!!

Self-interest rules. Focus, people, focus - y'ur out for y'urself there, buddy! Make it or break it. ME (mind), ME (mind), ME (mind). NOW, NOW, NOW. Next stop - in E.R. with heart or panic attack. God/de, life is nuts.

O God/de, I'm going way off on a tangent. Sorry.

It became a challenging symptom overall of my PTS disorder when my awareness dropped to a deeper level - now, when my arm throbs, i try to figure out if there is anything near by that i need to be afraid of OR if i am already afraid, my arm will start to hurt.

I am very tired of the relationship between my body and my mind. It has ever been thus and i loathe the events which began this conflict and disconnection. At times i try to negotiate and determine 'what's behind who' and 'where does it hurt' and 'who is that' and 'how do i get there safely' and 'please let me not stutter at the Convenience Store'; i still feel like events just flow by me, though. As i've mentioned before, all the planning i do is EXHAUSTING.

I believe PTSD is an emotional disorder as well as 'mental'. My mental and emotional tsunamis pre-breakdown are medicated and less disturbing and life-altering (negative) but confusion still reigns.

I'd like the body to just "smooth talk" with the mind and emotions and get together for lunch - they might as well get along. But, do they ever? Certainly not for the PTSDer because well, the body is, you know, disconnected.

I think we all know how i feel about emotion. Don't have one. Stay away. Yuk.

i know i've provided nothing new on the this subject but it is really helpful to work out the ideas floating around inside my head. I have to get them out or 'racing thoughts' and i do not like 'racing thoughts' AT ALL.

I still can't remember...

2011-02-06T17:00:00.001-05:00

A beautiful woman i was supporting near the end of my career was afflicted with PTSD (severe) and helped me to realize that i had the same difficulties and responses as she did; that i was "afflicted" as well. This woman had a PhD in French but after her breakdown, she could not speak a word of it.

This is a web-article i found while snooping around.

by Rick Nauert PhD Senior News Editor
Reviewed by John M. Grohol, Psy.D. on February 3, 2011
Source: New York University
Their research appears in the journal The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

...the purpose of the NYU study was to determine if there were differences between memory consolidation and reconsolidation during protein synthesis.

Their results showed that the inhibitor could effectively interfere with memory consolidation, but had no impact on memory reconsolidation.

“Our results show the different effects of specifically inhibiting the initiation of protein synthesis on memory consolidation and reconsolidation, making clear these two processes have greater variation than previously thought,” explained Eric Klann, Ph.D., one of the study’s co-authors.

“Because addressing memory-related afflictions such at PTSD depends on first understanding the nature of memory formation and the playback of those memories, finding remedies may prove even more challenging than is currently recognized.”

It took me awhile to read through this and make the connections. I am fascinated with how severe PTSD sufferers can be completely confident that someone is going to kill them, if, say, they walk down the same street the accident was on, even though the chance of that happening are infinitesimal. The emotional process was more accessible to me in terms of understanding what was going on (during a flashback) but it is always good to be open to new ideas. I really can't extrapolate anything from the article except that experiencing and remembering are different from re-experiencing and remembering. I need to learn more about this.

I still can't remember...

2011-02-03T15:17:00.001-05:00

A beautiful woman i was supporting near the end of my career was afflicted with PTSD (severe) and, actually, helped me (without knowledge) to realize that i had the same difficulties and responses as she did - i was "afflicted" as well. Anyways, this woman had a PhD in French but since her breakdown could not speak a word of it.

by Rick Nauert PhD Senior News Editor
Reviewed by John M. Grohol, Psy.D. on February 3, 2011
Source: New York University
Their research appears in the journal The Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.

...the purpose of the NYU study was to determine if there were differences between memory consolidation and reconsolidation during protein synthesis.

Their results showed that the inhibitor could effectively interfere with memory consolidation, but had no impact on memory reconsolidation.

“Our results show the different effects of specifically inhibiting the initiation of protein synthesis on memory consolidation and reconsolidation, making clear these two processes have greater variation than previously thought,” explained Eric Klann, Ph.D., one of the study’s co-authors.

“Because addressing memory-related afflictions such at PTSD depends on first understanding the nature of memory formation and the playback of those memories, finding remedies may prove even more challenging than is currently recognized.”

Sentimental Me

2011-02-02T18:11:00.001-05:00

Ia sentimentality a view or emotion held by a person which is disproportionate to the subject?

We must have the sentimental - those who dream of better ways through intuition, with a sense or feeling about the nature of a thing or event How can you bring reasoning and rational thinking into the pot if the emotional responses haven't yet been considered, categorized and cleared of the subjective element: fear, anxiety, joy and even love.

One view is not better than the other. Each are needed but through a different lens with clear eyes or at least as clear as we can get them, by putting the emphasis on dealing with the emotion first. Would that foster better communication? Less "inappropriate expressions of anger". Less substance abuse?

We have very few human practices for this (feeling before thinking), and so, it is no wonder that half the commercials i see are for meds for depression!!! We're just a walkin', balkin', suffering bunch of stuffed emotions!! Yikes.

Ah, yes, but as the "sentimentalist", i assert the hope for our future to find a way to bridge the gap between thinking and feeling.

As a rationalist, i think the above is airy-fairy Liberal guk and is not the most expeditious way of getting at the truth or knowing of what to do next.

Ta Da - sorry, really just rambling.

Astonishing

2011-01-27T09:44:00.004-05:00

A war has collapsed a country; allegiances keep their resolve. War continues; people suffer. The Queen will hold a garden party. Natural, playful dips in waters, Puddles, mostly. A child cries and no one answers. An old woman tells you a story with her eyes. The stillness and contradictions in life are astonishingly abundant.

I'm coming home

2011-01-24T19:02:00.006-05:00

Hi! Click on title for video, performed by my partner's nephew and girlfried.

Moving to a new city is sooooo stressful. Doctors, healthcare, specialist, Health Card, Regional Health access model. Finding myself around town. Building relationships with the neighbors sufficient enough to be able to offer a hearty hello and not much further. Isn't that awful?? i have been trying to change my feelings about that (the not liking people thing) but it is truly against my current best interests to not look into it too much right now. Otherwise i get depressed and that completely blocks me and i am a drag when it comes to depression.

But i've done most of it (moving, that is), with a few incidences but many more accomplishments! My basic needs are met and there is enough variety around me to get anything i might need or want. My "love" needs are met with family near by and living with Ross and all that. We have been together for five years and during all this time, he has never said an unkind word to me. I'm so blessed considering how i operated in this realm prior to my breakdown. I was unable to make more than a two year commitment to pretty much enything - relationship (other than daughter), work, home. As well, i seemed intent on repeating the past with violent encounters with men.

Also, people want to know -

"...so, how did you get PTSD.

"O, well, you know - i had some trauma!!!"

I insanely want to protect myself from meeting and/or getting into relationship with new people. You know, in case they keep asking that question.

I guess that brings me back to "moving to new city is not easy". I want to say "i'm coming home, too". Sometimes (blush) desperately. It is the first thing that breaks down for me when i start losing it.

"Help. I have no home", even though i do actually have one.

2011-01-21T23:00:00.001-05:00

The images i see when i close my eyes to go to bed: Ephemeral; a dissonant stage filled with veiled objects; obscure but always there, ever present. Right now, they take the shape of pillows and are encased around me. Previously, it was a tall, large, invisible man who would keep asking me *who are you; who are you*. I have never had an answer to his question and i feel irritation, almost anger that he would keep asking, keep coming back. I try to squish him out of my mind. I always succeed.

Now the question bubbles are back. At first, the pillows seemed protective, now they are turning on me and doing the same thing as the tall, large, invisible man: asking me questions i had no answers for. Slowly, i establish with each bubble that i do not know the answers to any questions and to please leave me alone. Then i can go to sleep. How fast i go to sleep depends on the number of pillows.

The path to sleep is not as easy as people think! I have just gone through a period of depression where my sleep patterns were very disturbed. Exceedingly tedious, almost bloody crippling and embarrassing. Yes. I find being mentally ill embarrassing. Pathetic, but it is true. Nuff said bout me!

Community and other myths

2011-01-20T08:41:00.001-05:00

*Nobody came out to see why a little old lady with no coat was screaming or why there was a rattling at the door. Nobody called the cops* (today, Globe & Mail).

The writer suggests that the tragedy is not a call for more tech-safe devices for seniors but, instead, a time for building and being in a *community that cares for every member*.

I have worked in services all of my adult-work life BUILDING COMMUNITY and i now believe my efforts were of naught (in the bigger picture), my philosophy and methods were naive even though my approach may have been enthusiastic and innocent in intent.

The treasured, much sought after experience of *community* alludes many people: the developmentally delayed; the mentally ill; seniors; Vulnerable people have a limited time for *community building* as the world rushes by with busy families and working friends and, well, people who move and think faster!! It becomes easier to decline invitations and, over time, social isolation. It is not a nice feeling....but, i suppose not strangely, it*s almost impossible to recognize that it*s happening.

No thanks, i*d rather watch Guy Lombardo on a Saturday night. The ups and downs; the value of connecting is less than the joy of disappearing.

Economic *cacooning* (i have my millions in my mattress; buy *Canadian*, architectural *cacooning*, (designing smaller spaces to live in) Remember Edward Shumaker - *Small is Beautiful*...he was right but I do not think this is what he meant)! But, and so, people cacoon. It is no longer an issue but now a reality that with both parents working outside home, slopping together a meal before hopping out to do the grocery shopping or take a kid to a soccer game is often all the *community building* time people have

Subdivision homes are built with the intention of the bulk of family life (kitchen; media centre) is at the back of the home. You cannot hear ANYONE out front - not even a car backfire.

Prescription drug shortages

2011-01-20T00:37:00.000-05:00

From what i can glean, shortages of common drugs (such as Epival, used for depression) is due to changed standards (by Canadian Federal Government) applied to Cdn. and global manufacturers alike All supplies (prior to change) had to be disposed of by pharmacy and the pharmacy must start ordering all over again. Time lag produced by poor planning by government - no other way to see it, really. Sigh.

2011-01-17T18:23:00.001-05:00

Changing Government Monitoring: the implication of party politics in health services

2011-01-14T09:36:00.001-05:00

We were a strong Liberal (capital L) family. My uncle was a socialist and was blacklisted during the McCarthy years as a communist sympathizer. Without children of their own, their assistance to my parents and their attention to all four siblings made our home special and sometimes lively with political discussion. My father, as a full-time musician lost thousands during a lengthy Conservative party majority in Parliament.

My fascination with politics lives on with my daughter but came from my mother. Ruth (my mother) was the only person i knew who had all the transcripts from the Watergate trial! The mountain of pages sat on our coffee table for quite some time, i remember. She raised a banner on *wages for housework* and followed health policy in her own personal pursuit for wellness. Paper clippings were left around the house. Two newspapers came to the house each day. I wish i had kept her correspondence.

Now, my daughter is a card-carrying Liberal with her own modern agenda and although i almost completely disillusioned with the whole process, her thinking and political interest always inspire and remind me to consider the political.

In my thirties, i have voted RHINOCEROS, the non-party party, perfectly irreverent with black humour mockery of what the other political options and were all about.

CONSERVATIVE PARTY POLITICS
Musical, visual, literary arts should be financed by the community (ie. people with higher or highest incomes).

Cultural studies (and collection of social statistics to evaluate changing needs) are irrelevant and an unnecessary cost for government according to a new (or just proposed, i forget) ruling from the Conservative Federal Government, led by Stephen Harper, sometimes referred to as the KING of Canada.

The barriers for good, hardworking Canadians to succeed (like high taxes) should be lowered as much as possible, giving REALLY successful businesses the biggest tax breaks, of course. Reward for work well done is still monetary, despite the little, wee perks (like massage) and droplets of benefits (like on-site child-care) thrown at the working poor and dwindling middle class.

Services for the truly poor fall in line with the Arts, another area which should be organized and finances by the COMMUNITY. The position of FUNDRAISER is now more important (in function) than the DIRECTOR. No money, no funny and it is the role of the fundraiser to pull as much money out of the *COMMUNITY* to donate enough to support these needs. Personally, I find it difficult to support causes where i know a bulk of my money is going to support the high administrative costs of the agency involved.

Knowledge is power. Access to post-secondary institutions becomes a privilege, due to shrinking access to government loans and grants. Nonetheless, we can still be dedicated to our true role in society - *CONSUMER*

So, there is a policy of less involvement in funding community events and needs and more reliance on the market to dictate the nature of our existence by linking our interests and social needs with corporate advantages. Supporting charity is a big tax break, after all.

Political landscapes come and go but the subtle shifts in philosophy between Liberal, Conservative, New Democratic Party and the Green Party are not slight but insidious with all of them trying to embrace the middle road. Well, we are at a cross road with that and eight years of Conservative politics in Canada has taken so much of the confidence i used to feel.

This is all such crap and i do not even care anymore. It is impossible to change

I am a Christian. Maybe. Sort of.

2011-01-13T11:56:00.001-05:00

Can I be a quiet reflective, ecumenical, non fundamentalist, non literal, open to all expressions of sexuality and love (except those which are coercive and non-consensual), pro-choice kind of Christian? Is it ok to believe that the Pope is fallible and that priests really are sexual beings. May I believe in women being priests? I love the holy in-dwelling Spirit (God/de) Which informs my every moment whenever i let it. Ah, the perilous joy of free will. Gotta love it!

Faith, to me, right now, is hilarious. Some important contexts, in which i understood and practiced faith, are no longer available to me. If i want to be a church-going Christian, i would have to be a) able to get out (hahahah, but seriously) b) be anti-gay, c) have a strong investment in patriarchy and, d) disconnected to reality. As the Jews were fragmented in the time of Jesus, so Christians are disunited and divisive today. It is an important time in the history and future of Faith.

I am trying to think of myself as Pope, looking out the massive ten foot window below to the piazza where only yesterday there were five-thousand directed by me to sit and stand and speak and sing and then leave. I am the Pope, Secundus Dei - Second to God herself. Does God actually speak to me or am i merely prescient. The answer is moot. It is what I believe that matters. I am the Pope. I think i will write an edict right now - ANYONE IN NEED = know that your utterances for mercy are being heard. Godde is love. I am going to cancel all other edicts and get my tea leaves read.

Basically, i guess that sums it up. I am a Christian. Probably.

Be Like a Child

2011-01-13T02:29:00.001-05:00

My granddaughter is a cracker. God, i love her. She's the gal at the top of the blog, obviously. I call her my 'pumpkin pie' because she was born the week of Thanksgiving and because of her beautiful skin tone of dark gold that reminds me of my favourite pie...you guessed....pumpkin! my girl loves to cook just like Ruth, her great-grandmother. Every preparation at the stove has to be orchestrated by the chef du jour!! She has learned her 'respectful distance' from the stove but all mixing and adding ingredients passes her inspection and involvement. It's hilarious but she really absorbs the information and enjoys being part of the process. You can tell - she's into it!! I love how a toddler can gravitate and thunder into an interest like that. Her brother did that, too - my sports guy. You need MLB stats, go to my grandson! He's a handsome, unpretentious, happy, healthy lad. Oh, he'll be pushin' the girls away, i'm sure! Being the eldest, he pulls a bit heavier load but he's up for challange! Number three - well, a sweeter, cuter baby you will not find! From day one, he was just....i don't know....cuddly and warm and pleased with all of our ministrations. oh, he is so beautiful. Looking at him makes me think of a perfect summer's day. I have been been richly blessed by a loving Godde whoever and whatever he*she is.

Now there's a theology i can hold onto!!! It's got more escape clauses than Hugh Heffner's pre-nuptial(s)!

It is written - 'be like a child'. Stand (or sit or lie) in awe of innocence. The act of always knowing that something new in the world can happen at any time. That something can inspire, excite and renew us every day.

Believing in magic and miracles, children tell us to let go of our grievances as quickly as running to the slide, laughing, after having just had a fight.

At four years old, my grandson said - "Nana, i don't wanna grow up".

I held his hand a bit tighter nodded my head and whispered "I got your back there, my dear".

riddles of my discontent

2011-01-07T05:23:00.001-05:00

When suddenly nothing makes sense. Not the philosophy i have tried to live by; not even some of values i embraced. I remember the day perfectly when i threw my phone headset on the desk after having been screamed at by an angry parent for ten minutes and I just stared, stared and figured out that none of what i thought should happen in my work, would ever happen. It was very disheartening. Changed my whole energy level. Every one must go through this, i suppose at various times but this last one - as we say, the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. It was also very numbing.

i was soured by a cynical mother and inclination years ago. i could never settle the argument surrounding compliance and freedom and i'm sure disappointed my parents several (many) times but Knowledge is power except we all know the power landscape is made up of corporate profit interests rather than reflection on the inclusive wisdom of the ages. So how can i be compliant? I chaff against the futility of institutions and feel physically ill knowing that 'only the rich and powerful' lead us forward and, o, yes, and also the goofy guys who invent things like "Facebook". After all that fussing and dreaming and hoping and half-knowing from my youth, now i am resigned and that is somewhat sad and sometimes a blessing. all i can do. Resign. Not literally but take a deep breath and say, "ommmmmmmmmmmmmmm". Possibly take a Tai Chi class. Go back to church? Something spiritual where the reality of not seeing

2011-01-05T12:41:00.001-05:00

2011-01-04T13:49:00.002-05:00

One of my long-term problems has been information retention. Depending on the level of emotion required to deal with the situation, i will unlikely be able to recall the conversation's content (as it applies to me!) after the fact. It's worse now, of course, and so it has been vital for me to identify when i need to take someone with me to an appointment. You know - not hair appt. but doctor's appt. I don't need someone to watch Mario wash my hair but i'll be damned if i'm going to a specialist by myself. I have learned to look out for and recruit the individuals i need to be my advocate when i need one.

Advocacy is a special gift. The Advocate knows in advance the issues at hand. They have listened carefully to the individual's concerns in order to communicate them to the doctor if the individual forgets or is unable to mention them. The Advocate will bring up other questions which have not been mentioned. The Advocate will take note of all the follow-up recommendations the doctor has suggested. The Advocate will review and interpret the entire visit with the individual.

2011-01-03T18:33:00.002-05:00

the unemployment blues
by heather
(two thousand and one)

I’ve taken to saying everything three times. Not because I don’t feel heard but because I like the way foccaccia sounds.
Give me foccaccia, foccaccia, focaccia.
The grocer hears, feta, feta, feta; the librarian, Layton, Layton, Layton; my husband, later, later, later.

It isn’t justice I’m after, it’s perennial lust. I’m not shallow,
I’m fair and giving and have given myself over to cream injected chocolate covered
donuts and now trying to fill in time between therapy appointments. Saying yes, yes to what is asked of me; no, no to what I’m told to admonish with fear and in a vacuum.

It’s not that I’m not heard. (A volley of curses at the tables beside me. Spoken by prophets). I’m not bothered, I’m squared with a world that can’t hear the wind whistle through the pines. I’m not bothered with spit on the sidewalk or lazy laps or dreams of lotto windfalls or even t.v. commercials or what colour I should dye my hair. I still shuck oysters and sing in a choir and smoke weed.

Anger pools just beside me. I’ve learned to extract some and bury the rest, letting experience bubble and boil; not following innocent hearts around anymore. Unhh uh. Not this twisted, oyster-shucking, sidewalk-spitting nature lover. I’m getting a job.

The poor hand each other whatever they have. Not for them the loaded return; not like a Bavarian sweet, like a horn-o-plenty not calculated by need, not like some Lady Macbeth smearing blood on a carpet, seething, seething with a purpose.

I don’t know.

Flowers, in a vase?
, precious favourites and an inestimable fortune in conspiracy theories and potting soil ready for me to birth baby spiders, cat grass and Buddhist pines. That’s probably all that matters anyway.

S’long as you have lots of potting soil, I’m all for poverty. `

Teflon and trombones. I’m picturing jazz-filled rooms past the foyer of PizzaPizza; a cat dressed up like Aunt Jemima. Onward Christian soldiers and all that. So strung out on chocolate sauce and Sartre since my baby left me. Oh yeah. Since my baby left me. Doo wop. Doo wang.

I’m getting a job.

I will recite the creed. I will wear matching socks. I will write little P’s on the calendar for payday and period and S for sunny.

…and I promise to stay off the grass.

2010-12-29T10:52:00.000-05:00

The Conservative party (in Canada)

No more narcissists?

2010-12-18T15:03:00.014-05:00

Narcissists may just be pains in the asses after all!!!

A DSM (diagnostic manual for psychiatric illnesses; bible for service providers) committee on Mental Disorders is proposing an elimination of six disorders, one of which is Narcissistic Personality Disorder; The new manual is due out in 2012. Deriders of the proposal include the chairperson of the very committee which made the recommendation. Many other psychiatrists oppose the change.

My ex had been diagnosed with NPD shortly after we were separated. Boy, did it make sense then (the description of the diagnosis was so bang on) but i felt, i don't know, ripped off or "disqualified" as a bonefide victim of his idiocy and mental chaos. Once he had the diagnosis it seemed like i had no right to be angry with a "mentally ill" person, this a--hole who had totally messed with my life. He constantly overwhelmed people with "his" ideas, pestering, calling, disrespecting boundaries, embarrassing others with him as he relentlessly badgered others to "go along" with his current big, grandiose plan to, i don't know, save the earthworm. Really destructive financial management. It's ME, ME, ME. Everything exists in relation to them only. Lying. Conniving. Manipulative. Usually in crisis.

It sucked to be me!

Obviously the whole marriage was a nightmare (and i lost my night-vision goggles!) but seeing him struttin' around like a wolf who ate the hen and was getting a medal for it; he was all puffed up with his new label as if it validated the fact the "he just couldn't help himself" - he had a disorder.

It made me sick.

I guess, NPDers, you'd better get used to the fact that, really, you're just people who screw things up alot and hurt others in the process. The Mental Health system cannot (and therefore, will not) assist people with these behavioural challenges and so has decided that the problem will be "stricken from the (DSM) record". The government and insurance companies are no longer responsible for you because your illness does not exist. As another blogger astutely put it: NDPers will be "in their worst nightmare - they will be ignored".

In the end i believe the diagnosis for my ex-husband did provide him with relief and he was eventually able to access regular therapy and it seemed his incidence of crises sort of went down but he's still up and down. He lives in the States now and they have WAY different access to services. For example, he got our divorce down there for TEN DOLLARS at the legal aid clinic!!! He is able to access long-term therapy. Without that - it's not easy. I think many NPDers end up in jail. At any rate, they are no longer an issue for mental health, not that they were treated well anyways.

NDP, in my small, itty-bitty view should remain a disorder, a dangerous disorder requiring long-term psychological, behavioural education. Now how realistic is it, you say, in this economy! Who's going to pay for that!!!??? Well, not the government, you can see the way the wind is blowing. Actually, it's been blowing "that way" for quite some time now.

Surprisingly and not-surprisingly, i vote NO to removing Narcissistic Personality Disorder from the DSM

2010-12-15T07:26:00.002-05:00

I have to talk more about POVERTY. It really is something i know alot about from studies and work and lived experience. I discovered poverty is no longer relative, is not a temporary state-in-waiting while we dare to pursue the middle class dream of prosperity. It is no longer a question of it being "just beyond reach". It is too far, now, too far from who we are now. That is, The rich get richer and the poor get poorer - isn't this usually a tell-tale sign for a dictatorship, not a democracy.

Education: The recent "tussle" with protesters and "The Royals" was about tuition hikes. I think we are at that place here in Canada where many talented, intelligent young people need grants and loans to access post-secondary education. Sadly, their parents may make just a little bit over the cut-off line to qualify. Of course, as a full-time student there are more expenses than tuition. Food would be one! How can a single-parent of two garage mechanic do that? Credit cards are maxed = no new loans.

But, alas, the "whatever the market can bear" makes the "Canadian dream" look like a hoax. The market can bear anything it fucking wants.

Passport to Poverty

2010-12-09T12:27:00.008-05:00

John lives in a room, a basement room and the only window in it is a small one, half of which looks into a side gutter running down the house. He had previously lived at the mens' shelter until his social worker found a "rental opportunity" for him.

"O, so close to downtown", she bubbled, "and the bus terminal. Why, you could go anywhere in the city. John thought this unlikely; bus travel is a luxury, she should know that.

"How much is a bus pass these days? Too much, i think."

"Well, perhaps it can be a goal, then".

The smile was still there, unbelievably, as they drove up to the "opportunity". She must have been making a joke of him for they both knew John's finances (550.00/month)). John liked to think she blushed but no, she kept on smiling.

They made a budget together:
Food
5 apples. 2.80
5 bananas 3.00
1 litre milk 2.89
6 pieces of ham - 3-4 sandwiches 1.75
1 loaf of white bread (cheapest and last longer) 1.79
3 boxes of Kraft Dinner 3.89
21 fresh beans (7 for three nights) 1.50
1 bag of carrots 2.79
1 box of oatmeal 4.29
1 lb. of coffee 4.99
1 small jar peanut butter 3.99
_____________________________________________________________
Total 33.68 x 4 = 118.76
Rent (for 8x10 room) 400
TOTAL 518.76
INCOME 550.00

BALANCE - 31.24 /4 = 7.81/WK.

John set a copy of that budget on his ceiling so he could stare at it all night and he dreamed and fancied what he would do with his 7 dollars and eighty-one cents.
A small coffee at Tim's most days of the week. A return ticket to the mall. A Big Mac meal. Maybe even all of this - hah! He'd find money on his travels this week, to be sure.

After he and his family went to church on Sundays, the owner of John's new home would come as "keeper of the peace" with a inspection of any damages from the weekend. Overlord of the property, he was quick to throw out any transgressors. No drugs, no women, no booze. Simple rules, you'd think, but hardly anyone was able to adhere and abstinent John met a new resident ever week or so. One might think this a flophouse, cubicle-sized rooms, a central bathroom but the linen was cleaned and replaced ever Friday and by early 20th century standards, this would be a home of some decor (drapes) and appointment (clean floors and windows, flowers in the yard).

Fights, knives, drunken and doped laughs for hours, silent early morning bliss while the hungover players from the night before were as dead as the living could be - this was lonely Johns' fare. Hushed talk of robberies and scams and confessions of crime. After a time, John was oblivious to them and Housemate John became Invisible John and his presence no longer required hushes and lowered voices or a break in crime strategizing. They loved to pop another pill, drink another beer, snort another ounce of whiskey, sniff another line or puff on the crazy pipe, blow another joint.

A resident man would say - "Don't worry 'bout the man there, boys. He's one of us and he's no snitch. Ain't that right, John-boy. That's all you can say"...hahahah....he might be switch, though. Angels have mercy - oooooweee! (loud guffaws from the various law-breakers at the table). Better snatch the switch before he snitches up, Marty". (continued laughing all around.

John washed dishes and slowly snaked his way back downstairs to his nest. A viper's nest? Not a snitch, not a switch, but a snake. John had it good - he was no snitch. John could see a brighter future.

You may not have fresh food for three weeks of the month. Forget about smoking. No drinking. You might have to wear dirty clothes in a pinch (or several pinches in a row). Laundry's a bitch. No teeth cleaning or regular check-ups at dentist EVER. Government approved drugs only. You probably have to live in a room. You start to think going to Food Bank is not such a bad deal. Thinking same about soup kitchen.

And just like that; John's no snitch, switch bitch. John's been promoted to snake.

Stay tuned for John's next adventure: "John meets Julie at McDonalds" from "Passport to Poverty".

Reality - leading cause of stress!

2010-11-28T08:10:00.012-05:00

This day starts with a large, smelly dog's face using tongue licks as persuasion to get me out of bed so he can take my place to catch a longer snooze with 'Dad'. I should stop the behavior but it suits me fine. I don't take it personallly! Alone in the morning is heaven.

By morning i mean 'before the dawn'. Coffee in hand, appropriate outerwear zipped up, i sit on my small back porch surrounded by big trees and long lawns, sipping and smoking, pondering great things. The dog may drift in and out, checking on me (as sheepdogs are prone to do). He shuffles off back to the bedroom once he decides all is well, slowly drifting by his food bowl, stopping and glancing back as if to say 'are you sure?'.

A sign on a gas station near my house - "Reality is the leading cause of stress". Hahahahahha. So true. There are stress measures (re: death of family member = 10 points, divorce = 9, etc.) but it is the PTSD sufferer's unpredictable response as well as the need to constantly assess "reality".

We ask, 'what is a threat? what is not?' Time-consuming "assessments" - whose car? driving record? Health card? Accident? What will happen? Where will they take me? How will i communicate? Who will i meet? How will i hide and i go on and on and on and on and on. All those shadows/fears. i'm very sad that this behavior is still with me. It remains one of my bigger hang-ups. The more experience i have with going to familiar sites has made this more tolerable but i still HATE the proposals to do something new. Ugh. Not worth it. As we used to say as teenagers: REALITY BITES!....and i need stitches!!

The only way for me to stay sane is to find as much quiet as i can in order to keep organizing myself and cranking up the ol' engine. Breathing. Thinking. Writing (now more than for several years. Alternative - lay down, rest my spinning head, focus, breathe, perchance sleep and escape all stimuli!!!!! Alternative - take a pill. Don't like pills.

PS. Christmas shopping starts. I went to The Bay yesterday for the entire last time in my mortal life! Calm sigh. All the way through i kept saying 'oh,oh, trouble'. Found my little allegedly sale-priced, artificial Christmas tree and vamoosh, i was gone, sister.

Visiting "malls" - another leading cause of stress!

"

2010-11-24T10:50:00.001-05:00

My partner and i read the Globe and Mail, Canada's "National" newspaper, every morning. It's a nice ritual. We try to shock each other with references to poor writing, the dumbest opinions and the "Sarah Palin" search. First one to find a reference to her gets the coffee. Kind of a backwards win. Kind of like Sarah P.....o never mind. Anywho, it took a couple of days to read this article as the paper came in soaking wet, but i (again) heartily snorted at an opinion expressed. The title "A continuum of care for mentally ill offenders" written by a Director of the Addiction Research Foundation in T.O., ON, Canada describes ONCE AGAIN, ad nauseum the same age-old solutions to the same age-old issues without getting it:

Time. Money. Time is money. "Continuum of care" costs much more because it takes more time.

. the "continuum" the gentleman speaks of reminds me of "wrap-around" in the early nineties social work world. The model a "circle of support" has always been touted as the "answer" to gaps in services and it would work, people would be better supported, the quality of life for people with mental illness would go up. The coy and sly foxes at the Ministry LOVED the "circle of support" ONLY if it was a voluntary involvement. Ideas for developing a "circle" abounded. Keeping the "circles" going takes much time, innovation and flexibility -

....but it never is achieved, sometimes implemented but never maintained. Why?

Time. Money.

NO MORE MONEY (possibly the most popular Ministry mantra). From my twenty-five years in the "biz", a balanced budget has always meant - NO MORE MONEY for social services, esp. mental health services (but more so for developmental services)

O, Lucky Me

2010-11-22T00:51:00.003-05:00

I have seen ten psychiatrists since my breakdown
First - intake assessment by Dr. O
Second - follow-up appt. - relief for Dr. O., Dr. Too nice (wanted me to go in hospital)
Third - Dr. Grrrrr who slapped the wrong label on me
Fourth - Dr. "Rude Enough" at Crisis Clinic
Five - Dr. Nice Lady - wrote 12 pg. assessment for insurance company. Apparently i 'presented' with stains on my shirt. Everyone laughed about that because i don't really have a shirt without stains on it. I'm a magnet, as they say!
Six - Dr. "Hey Lady - You're sick"!
Seven - Dr. "What's your name again"
Eight - Dr. Yada Yada Yada; relief for Dr. "What's your name again"
Nine - T.B.A. as soon as possible (i've moved and my file must move with me to the new region). Yahoo!! Wheeeeee!

My neighbor (our backyards touch) and I were chatting about our gardens as we usually do. I ask about her father because she is caring for him and i know how hard that can be. She asks about the grandkids. She loves children but has none. One day, she got around to asking what was wrong with me. I drew a complete blank from her when explaining PTSD, so i stuck with 'depression' and anxiety. Her response: "Oh, yeah, like we all get". I interpreted that as it sounds and changed the subject, wishing later i'd said - "yeah, except you don't have to take fourteen pills a day to deal with it". Mostly i just tell people i'm retired. The usual response to that is "O, lucky you".

Yup, Lucky me.

Self-Medication

2010-11-15T20:24:00.007-05:00

I used to encourage the people i worked with (who were homeless and who had sig. mental health/addiction issues) to get off the juice (alcohol, the hooch) and switch to a less harmful drug, marijuana. I truly believed in "harm reduction" methods of support and knew if the switch was made, the person's quality of life would go up. It was too hard to do for most - the allure of alcohol is about easy access, the smooth tasty buzz, social networks and the anti-anxiety effect. The damage it causes, though, is so much more than a potheads' potential for problems.

Street or pharmacy purchased pills which give that (floaty) "i'm so fine" feeling can provide the bonus of induced sleep to escape the smelly trenches of the mind. I don't like them at all. I do my best to be "aware" of what's going on around me, even though it often makes me sick. Having said that, i do take a prescribed amount of Clonazepam for anxiety and PRN (as needed) for those "special" moments when i'm about to FREAK OUT!!

Self-medication can quietly (and sometimes, not so quietly) fill a void left by the "crap shoot" of prescription medications and the lack of access to effective psychiatric treatment and psycho therapeutic counseling. Margaret Trudeau can afford unending psychotherapy to treat her bi-polar disorder but people with average or below poverty level incomes cannot (current rate average at $100 for 50 min).

I remember when services in Ontario (during the infamous, conservative "Mike Harris" reign) started cutting back on supports. Community counseling centres introduced the "brief therapy" model. It was designed to identify one issue which would be best dealt with at that time and take six to eight sessions to basically wrap it up and check it off. Ridiculous. Who's insane - me or the system.

I digress.

There is a sad inevitability with self-medication for the unsupported.

Sometimes i think religion is self-medication.
I think all "isms" are probably examples of self-medication
Could my addiction to Blue Jays baseball be self-medication?!!! Gasp.

Buy Some PlayDough; Play

2010-11-15T18:00:00.004-05:00

I was surprised to see this blog selected as one of the top fifty blogs shedding light on PTSD. Thank you mastersinpsychology.com. My friend Jaliya was also highlighted by this group and is in top 50 as well. Kudos, my friend. Keep up the great work. Your blog is amazing.

I was also surprised that the review indicated that i hadn't written for a year!! My goodness! Where did i go?

I guess I've been ill the past year. Last Nov. i had a car accident. Early morning; dense fog. I was lucky. Physically. The air bag did not employ but there was 10,000 in damage. I went through a stop and slid across a HIGHWAY (if you can believe it) dropped into a gully and then went bouncing up, ploughing into a field of corn!

Mentally? It brought up some repressed memories which now i see as having happened, clear as a bell. I am saddened by this and feel like one more thing has plopped on me. One more pile of pigeon poop to process. It was at this point i thought i'd try to find a therapist. Recommended to me - some Jungian psychoanalyst - blah, blah, blah - "tell me everything". You know, i'm sick of talking about "it". Talking about "it" MAKES me sick. After my appt. i was in bed for a couple of days in a fetal position - WHO NEEDS THAT. I am so sick of talk therapy. Literally.

I seemed to have one thing after another this past year - flu, cold, teeth probs and then a nasty, nasty few months with depression. I had suicidal ideation and racing thoughts and needed intervention mid year. Doctor and i chose to try "Seroquel" (sp) but it was overwhelming. I decided i'd rather have racing thoughts than no thought at all!!! I was a zombie for an entire week before i stopped taking them. If i didn't have the support i do with family, i would probably have to take that drug just to survive the day. Without support in identifying options, sometimes there are no choices. Being a zombie becomes the best response to crippling fear, anxiety that chokes, depression that never ends. The guilt is bloody paralyzing. No, i don't have cancer - no, i haven't been given six months to live. No, no Parkinson's. Sorry, no MS and no, no, no, - I'm just MENTAL and, yes, it's my own bloody fault. Sometimes i feel that way even though i know it's not true.

Comprehension is down; fatigue is oppressive. Confusion. Lost in the kitchen. Lost in the laundry room. Crying in the bedroom because i'm lost.

But life has ups, despite me and my MENTALness!!! A new grandson born Sept. 10th and he is a doll. Third child for D and P; brother to N. and I. Babies affirm life's promises for innocence, trust and joy. My granddaughter (age 3) started soccer. Her team is called "The Muffies" - how cute is that! Eldest grandson is, as always, a total delight but is now a mischievous devil, seven year old smartypants!!

TAKE/EAT/DRINK IMMUNE BOOSTERS.
BREATHE
SELF-CARE
BE OK WITH NOT BEING OK
BUY PLAY-DOUGH; PLAY.

Sigh. Nice to be back.
h.

2009-10-19T05:17:00.001-04:00

Life without family is rare, i suppose, and sad would it be not to have a loving base of people who are there 'for' you no matter what. I am one of the sad majority who grew up in a cell called a family who were not "there for you". I had my share of smacks across the face and locked in my room and "patty cake on my pee-pee" and 'come and snuggle with me'. I'm fifty-four now but back them? By thirteen i din't give a shit. Whether they touched me or they din't; whether i did something or i didn't. Mother saw me come out of her bedroom one or two times. It was eery the first time because she smiled all day, as if she need for another enticement to keep my father put and she'd found one with me. We never spoke of it, though. Not even to this day and if you were to ask her, she never saw it happen.

One of my uncles was over yesterday and told me my titties were getting bigger and asked if he could see them. Dad was there and told me to lift my blouse. I giggled and as he touched them, we all laughed together and then we watched a movie. My pick! I sat in the middle. By the end of the movie i didn't have any clothes on and when mother arrived home i had to scramble and hide behind the couch. She smiled naturally and kept walking to the kitchen, arms filled with groceries. Dad whispered behind at me to go and get dressed and help mom and that maybe we can all watch a movie together later. With smiles between the three of us, i was off. As disgusted and confused as i was, I had become addicted to their touch.

2009-08-23T03:20:00.004-04:00

Seething, oozing, frothing. raging impotence.

In my room which i share; i sit and ponder the distance between moons and how corrupt star-gazing can be when I am told to sit, stay, wait and that is what i do, all wheel-chaired up, in a wheelchair line, sitting, waiting and staying. My head lops to one side, my mouth will not move; I drool, my tongue is sloppy and undisciplined. i cannot hear the sound of my voice but i know what i want to say. I want to say, "i hope for a visitor. I hope we have macaroni for dinner".

If i could speak, the nurse who calls me ol' gal would shrink at my dressing down.

Why? - here in this hallway, in this cafeteria, in this four by ten cubicle i now must call home. No help to go out, no where to go so I sit, so I stay and I wait for a visitor and I hope for a colourful spring.

Longing. Preparing. Resisting. Accepting.

2009-08-20T05:26:00.002-04:00

As if i remember. All of sixty years ago! It was '35 and my father'd been dead for eight years.

His plot was way hence so we trooped over only occasionally to pay respects.
I had no respect to give but it's hard not to follow along with a group of ten. I'd stand there looking at a grave with all the other kids and my mother, who was like a saint, saying blessings and sending good, unearned prayers up to him, him who beat her and us kids as often as he would stumble through the door. I made up silly words to mumble while we sung out the Lord's prayer and didn't even feel guilty or sad.

There he was, in a field, in a box, past, past other boxes, way in the corner where some lucky poor could bury their dead. My mother knew the gardener and she managed to square away the plot with a promise of i don't know what. Where he died? Here, close to this field here, froze to death trying to get home from the moonshiners.

It was his grave i suppose, it didn't really matter to me.

Life by spices - my Isabelle

2009-08-09T08:19:00.010-04:00

A child to mind, she arrives.
spiced and salted;
Not made to be bottled up, not covered in lace
She's fresh like a peach with fuzz on her face.
She has a wee smooth bum, a strong back
and a head of curls that say "me".
I'm two, turning three and, yes, it's all about ME!'

Her recipe for 'freedom right now' is
'run, don't walk and always talk'
all she needs
to explore the wide world
of a yard fenced, a park hence,
a neighbour to sing hello.
She says 'read to me, tell me I'm pretty,
don't ever forget that i'm here.
I won't let you go far from facing the fact
that I'm yours to adore and cheer'.

2009-07-12T22:45:00.000-04:00

Sharp butt; linen underwear with little craft balls hanging by threads along the leg, leaving little bumps visible enough under pants.

Times gone by

2009-07-12T05:47:00.005-04:00

Sites unfair, unseen; waters too deep, unclean. My view is skewed by night, by trembling stares at stars and vocal hopes for a rainy day to make sense of staying put. My past fades, my useful past forgotten and present plans to do some good are drawn by ink (invisible), designs (petty), arrogant guilt and wine. i write as quiet as i can lest loss makes a smudge on the page. I gather like mice to cheese traps, fish to hook straps, I ramble like rivers run wild. If patience wears, i hide and wait for a tap turned on, a song to start, a baby's cry, the smell of life anew and there i sit on the leisure lap, so grim, so firm, so blue. I turn my back on shifting sand to see the future's plan lest photographs show a soulless soul and a soiled dream come true. I think of this; of times gone by and today's small contributions.

2009-06-24T09:32:00.001-04:00

I received a new diagnosis in April of this year: Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD). Those are the names of the headaches i love to live with!! The other two are Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (chronic and complex) and Major Depressive Disorder. I also have chronic sciatia and have difficulty with severe pain and mobility. I am lost without medication and am currently dependent on five separate drugs with a total of 12 pills a day. The nausea and anxiety need special attention and i find creative ways of dealing with those two thirsty energy drains. I sometimes feel i've struck a balance but "stuff" crops up sometimes. I can now hear fairly well but will always have some stupid thing going wrong with my ears. I just recovered (sort of) from cellulitis ("luck of the draw, said my physician!! My foot still feels the effects quite a bit though. I lost my upper teeth last summer and i still haven't completed everything around that and actually don't like them at all. However, i like them more than i would if i didn't have them!!!!hahaha I have needed to have my blood work done but can't seem to do.

PTSD - a memory and sensation can create a heightened anxiety and who knows what "blood work' means to me? I'm fucked in this way, for sure. Sometimes i feel like i may turn and corner and be confronted with insurmountable violence.

2009-06-12T14:25:00.001-04:00

Sometimes i wake up with dread, eyes pop open, wondering if i'm late for something. I realize i'm ok. phew. now i can focus. The grog of my brain tries to pry itself out and let unmedicated air seep in. I remember it's coffee time. I stumble across a spider plant along the way and realize its bone dry and i can't imagine how i let it happen and i look to remedy with tap and watering tin but i meet the coffee maker. Dripping, brewing, mantra of my day - 'drip, drip, drip'. It's my art, my flair for pleasure and all i want. Sigh. Did i really just spend forty-five minutes sipping my pleasure? I do love coffee.

REFRAIN
I love coffee. I love tea.
Ho, Mr. Mojo, put a pot on for me.
Coffee and tea tastes alot like me
perump, perump, perump, perumpy, do.

Medication has slowed me down enough for me to say - "O MY GOD - do you believe how green everything is". There are spores of something floating around. Not dandelion, something smaller. The temp. is perfectly suited for sweater or shirt. Traffic is very slow but there is a popular park at the end and people come and go. They're not in any hurry, though - that part is nice. They call this city "Forest City" and that makes sense in this part of town but that's not the whole of it. Development is spread out; so much land. It's very wet here. Very lush in most places in Ontario these days.

I think i saw a lynx today. It was amazingly primitive looking with high, hairy ears and a wide, grinning face.

A blog is what a journal really is. I've kept journals since i was a teenager, over forty years and i've burned two sets - it was ridiculous bunk, i thought, tossing the pages into the fireplace. I was saying - MOVE ON!! But, somewhat related, the journal is allegedly "private" but no, no folks - it's not. Ever had your sister or mother, etc., read your journal. Pretty much everyone has - so blogging is just stating it out loud. GO AHEAD - READ ALL ABOUT ME!!

Last week the squirrels were wild about our yard. There were six in total, frolicking. Literally! They were early spring born, i suppose. Or moms finally relieved of their duties!!

The week before, robins ruled and

2009-06-07T21:24:00.002-04:00

My God. This world is TOO MUCH. My friend, A, will have a laugh at hearing that. I've said it a million times since we've met and, indeed, A, it really still is TOO MUCH!!!

My thoughts today have wandered along spiritual paths amidst practical (but loving) duties.

I say:
I try to explain my belief system and sigh. I believe in God/de (in Yaweh, there is no male or female) and the power St. John of the cross, after much contemplation and writing, came up with the quintessential definition: GOD IS LOVE. Pretty simple? Not really!

2009-06-02T11:22:00.001-04:00

I have new limits where sometimes in my past, because of my illness, i fear i had very few. Limits or 'boundaries' are lines we draw that say - yes, this safe; no this is not. Or things you will do or won't do. You will say and not say. You take care of yourself or lose sight. Such is one of fundamentals of challenges which face people with mental illness. What is too much and what is not enough.

While working in social work, i was against medication. Period. I saw mental illness through the lens of inexperience and arrogance (unlikely bedfellows?). Now i see it much differently.

2009-05-19T14:42:00.001-04:00

There's no point in grumbling on a beautiful spring day with early summer temps. Any trouble can be cast aside by way of the warmth of the sun, carried by the wind through the trees. But grumble, i must.....it is my "way"!!!

There are aspects of my illness which i can't explain and, therefore, am not able to communicate to my love ones. It's so true, though, mental illness (because it is not physically visible)

2009-05-16T00:10:00.002-04:00

It's dark but stars are like flares at Indigo. Sitting on the front porch, several dog-walkers stroll by with a hello or a comment on the weather. A cool breeze is a relief in the middle of summer when air is as thick as fog. Cicadas logged on just after sunset - the hum of a good night on the porch.

conversation has become hilarious with a couple of drinks.

2009-05-14T18:09:00.001-04:00

Anxiety

The trickle of worry confirmed the small tug i felt earlier, walking through the village. More than the usual staring from the women along the block and idarted my eyes around behind my boggle-framed sunglasses to find the source but nothing stood out.

I saw leaves move, heard the brittle crunch of forest twigs; i knew he was there.
A small tug inside and a scatching at the back of the neck.
War, digging trenches, question marks abound.

My Nicholas

2009-05-13T12:24:00.000-04:00

The “Pondering” Years

I ponder now, great things I see
Like gummy bears and trucks with wheels
And sounds I make, like a dinosaur,
a growling lion, a snarling bear.

It’s difficult for me to see that
connections really do exist;
that consequence falls into view
and certain things I just don’t get.

Did you know Nana’s fish don’t like champagne,
or Daddy’s walls, my paint?

I really thought I could ride those stairs
but am comforted as I explore my lair
and get to bump and rant and fall and sprawl
on table tops and things too tall.

So, remind me again that several eggs, when they fall,
will make Nana frown while she ponders me anew!
Teach me, again, Mom, that clothes don’t like pens
and books don’t like rips and I can’t walk on the road.

Because I ponder now and great things I see
and need to know there are watchful eyes on me
to help me through this toddler time,
these pondering years of mine.

For Nicholas Benjamin (Kwaygo Ompufu) Aboagye
Love from Nana
Easter Sunday 2006

2009-03-17T09:49:00.001-04:00

She wandered down the alley, seeking peace from the noisy crowd in the club. Her instinct was not to come and her unease was heightened when she saw Thomas walk in.

2009-03-16T21:27:00.001-04:00

I won't take a bus again. I irrationally avoid certain experiences or events to

2009-03-13T03:17:00.001-04:00

From birth, the eyes of Isabelle were stunning black like her brother's. From her first eyes open, she offered thoughtful, long gazes and she charmed us with them. It was as if she deigned that we adore her! I love "sass" from the get-go. A newborn's trust and acceptance and complete vulnerability is a powerful message for the wizened, stuffy and cynical. Light reflects from dark eyes like stars and i was mesmerized by her as i am still awed by her brother.

I've worked with children most of my career, gave birth to one. Pretty babies don't surprise me but, objectivity does not appy here...my grandchildren are the most beautiful and handsome but i suppose every Nana sings that song!

i can see when sudden sadness washes over them. The joy they experience through discovery makes my heart pound. I adore the sponge that is their brain but their unrelenting trust and acceptance of the world around them (because they know so little about it and have such little, real power) is both a liability and a gift.

lazy girl heaven

2009-02-26T10:58:00.002-05:00

I know that there is a heaven.

O, really (chuckling).

It's foggy at first but i suspect now that would have cleared up once i got in. I had the feeling it was big, and inside it had everything i needed. I didn't have time to think about what i wanted. It all happened so fast.

hmmmm.

Yes, it was very lulling and compelling at the same time.
It's white, a space, up to the left. Like i need to turn my head to the left to see it properly.
Yes, like a tunnel. as people say.

then what happened?

There are friends waiting
but only one main person beckoning. It looked like Jesus to me, but what do i know!!
(only what i've been socialized to know). He wore a robe, no other way to describe it. Kind of like a monk's with a hood and all.

I wish you remembered more.

i do.

hmmmm

I got sucked back here. According to the guy in the robe, i had "more" to do. Geesh. what else is there? I felt 100 years old back then. Twenty-two and lost like Alzheimers (sp). First scared, then sad, maudlin and then back to frightened, anxiety through the roof; unemployed, addicted, depressed, insane ol' me. Yup. One hundred years old, there about.

I heard one man at my dad's nursing home say, "i'd rather die at 75, then live at 95.

you're a cynic too, then?

tell me about being nineteen.

no. You tell me about your abortion last month.

well, June, to start, i'm 44 and tired and ill. How can i provide?

i'm not dissing you, i support your decision.

thank you. Richard doesn't.

Richards never do. I've never met a fully feminist Richard.

hahahhahaha

hahahahahaha

Seriously, i think we're both tired. Christ, it's hard, eh? I hate fucking life. Too much to do. i've heard Heaven has lazy-girl chairs. Did you see any?

2009-02-24T15:38:00.002-05:00

i'm folly. i did it. i took the wrong road, i turned left, i wandered off to the side, i stopped for tea too much. Now, i want not to take a tug to sea and travel (uninsured) to some new shore. I love to see (thank you), but now i want to watch by sound, by stroke, by nod, by way of a rocky road by way of the chickadees laying low.

May i? Sneep.

o, but barren notes with ink gone dry

2009-02-16T18:11:00.005-05:00

Soliloquy (sp) of Insanity
O, but barren notes with ink gone dry are my memories. Alone, unto a light untold bespoke of even more forlorn. I sink with heart but stunning still, i croon for blood to flow. Still barren notes with ink gone dry, my memories grow old. It's apple trees and elephant's ears and pyramids i miss. I've seen the Babylonians, a try for it, a thought of it, a grab for power and need. They promised us the land and gold and justice true, a sky so blue, a market square and underwear and our place beneath the sun but i have now gone by way of winding road some hence, on bi-way's search for less and less whene'er ink on barren notes' gone dry.

Political Paths

2009-02-04T12:03:00.008-05:00

Politics is so funny and painful. ....so predictable, transparent but so entrenched and slow-moving.

A "promise" is one response to an optimistic (and usually misguided) notion of the perfect answer. The thing is, inexperienced 'handlers' of political power must be blown away when they realize they can't fulfill that "promise" no matter how they go about it. Who's agenda goes first, which goal can be reached now? What priorities are there, really? Who's for me; who's against me?

Promise to Priorites to Put if off.

It is a new age. A true age of hope and change. For people of colour and for others who do not see colour; for people from nations around the world, the Obamas' success seems to right a wrong and the world feels more balanced.

They say "Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely". We are not naive; we know that our dear Obama's agenda will be rocked and blocked by intransigent political and social systems. But Jesus, let us find another way. God, let this be a new age. But you bankers and ne'er-do-well corporate snakes, lest ye forget, they also say - "God/de giveth and God/de taketh away". I mean, how much money does a person REALLY need?? (sorry - had to throw that in). But, really, don't you LOVE Michelle's casual look and those kids are TOO cute!!!!

I started out wanting to write something about Canada but got side-tracked. I mean, who wouldn't!!!

Cheers.
p.s. Sarah Palin remains a mystery and - for Canadians - Michael Ignatieff is about to become one.

2009-01-31T16:21:00.001-05:00

Hello!
This blog has not evolved into what i thought it might, so it's 'termination time'. Thanks for reading guys!

CONGRATULATIONSS GHANA!

2009-01-08T15:15:00.002-05:00

Dear P:

I am reading through the Ghana material from both you and Danielle right now! Now that the New Year is here, your trip in April (2009) seems so imminent!

First, please forgive me for not mentioning the election in Ghana. Next time something important like that happens, let me know, again, closer to the day. You know how my short-term memory goes. I can hear the headline loud and clear but sometime miss some the text!

CONGRATULATIONS on the election. I hope that the NDP outcome was the one you were hoping for. Also, KUDOS on the celebration of the Ghana's 50th anniversary of Independence from British colonial contol. This is a good year, indeed, for you to take your family to your homeland, your place of birth and growth to adulthood.

As i read (online) the anecdotal experiences of Ghanians living abroad, i see similarities, ancestrally and historically, with my own roots. It left me wondering about the difference between "home" and "homeland" and, of course, my favourite topic - "nationhood".

What is our "homeland"? The country we were born? The place we grew up? The country we live in now? If you were born in China and brought to Canada as an infant - where is your homeland?

When you came to Canada, you were a man (nineteen years old) and had been raised fully in Ghana. My experience is of being from a long, continuing line of immigrants (from the British Isles) but, because of personal experience (ie. i've never been to the British Isles), i must call Canada my "homeland".

Canada and Unites States were, from inception, the new frontier; the New Land for so many who were persecuted and driven hard into poverty with the evolving economies and cultures that came with the looming Industrial Age. The "monied class" often made it clear they could not handle the social and economic needs of the many.

The "New World" (Canada) was hard, practically inhabitable and forced changes in personalities and habits and roles like any other "diaspora". My ancestors left their "homelands". Did they think it was any better? Some, (many?) returned back to their "homeland". Some went back to share what they had learned in the New World. Enough stayed to move the 'great frontier' (as they say) forward.

I have decided that it is the place you grew up. That must be our "homeland". Where we live now is our "home" and i think, everyone who leaves their "homeland", must face a constant process of comparision and pressure to adapt some of the dominant culture of the country they either live in or become a citizen of.

At the same time, IT IS SO VITAL that recent, new Canadians maintain and share the traditions of their "homeland" Canada, because it is also "homeland" itself has My experience of multi-culturalism in Canada is like a slow-moving pendelum, moving between the old and the new, as we have always done.

S.W. ONTARIO WEATHER REPORT

2009-01-07T13:51:00.003-05:00

Used to be that this blog traced symptoms and treatment of my health issues but it seems to have evolved as "thoughts" about "stuff". I'm ok with that and i recently sub-titled my blog "Travel Notes of a Devout Woman Going Mad". ....a long-suffering title of mine that's been hanging around for 20 years or so but never completed fleshed out. Well, these are "Travel Notes" and i am probably (like all of us) "Going Mad" so you can see what i'm gettin' at here.

The bleakness of winter in Southwestern Ontario is so enormous; the prevalence of SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) must be very high around here. I'm not a winter person, all bundled up and happy to be outside, making snowpeople and throwing snowballs while shovelling the latest pile of 1000 lb. sludge the snow plough left at the bottom of the drive. I'm not into the gale-force winds forcing me down the street to any respite in the storm. Nah. It's not happening.

Spring, on the other hand is gorgeously green and fertile. Certain early bloomers (flowers) throwing colour around and neighbors out, puttering in the shed or garden. Clothing is easier, walking is achievable, the outdoors is accessible - YEAH!

CANADA - WAKE UP 2

2009-01-06T10:01:00.005-05:00

Dear Jaliya:

Thanks for your comments!

Do i really sound 'catty' (re: MEOW reference))?? I love it! I'm all that and pissed off, too. I feel so alienated from a process that used to inspire me. The last ten years have left me agog with North American political direction going farther and farther right (conservative) and where lofty principles like 'access to basic rights for all' have become "rien" (nothing) in the face of the race to multi-national economic success.

No wonder the world is falling apart. We desperately need a balance. It's weird, but i felt kind of vindicated and optimistic at the same time, when the stock market fell - it was like "SEE, I TOLD YOU"!!! along with this sense that we were standing at a turning point. The greedy and sociopathic are everywhere but there sure seemed to be preponderance of them on Wall St/ Bay St./ and every other money street in the world this past year (two thousand and eight). The behavior of some is reprehensible and astonishingly cruel - especially in terms of the magnitude of losses.

I hope (like millions of others!) that the upcoming Democrat leadership of the U.S. will offer up the much needed and desired direction toward a better, more just society, focusing on the values of peace and caring and equity for all peoples in all places, inviting them to share fairly in the land and resource that are abundant in so many places in North America and elsewhere.

It's all too complicated and i put everything in such simple terms; i'm surprised i'm even thinking about these things still.

The United States can no longer afford to claim to be the "greatest nation in the world" and Canada's military presence has changed from Peacekeeper to Combatant. Canada's identity is linked to evolving alongside the rights and customs of all cultures. In considering multi-culturalism, we must have thought "why invite people in, if you don't intend to respect their customs?" But it we really were to look at Canada's immigration policy and practice (procedures), we would be surprised at the defensive and protectionist position Immigration Canada takes. This seems way off the point, i know, but i think the battle for "Nationhood" is on and it wouldn't surprise me if we soon understood "nation" in a historical context only.

Is Mexica better off because of NAFTA (North American Free Trade Agreement). Please forgive me, i know less than nothing about that subject.

Yes, Mr "NAFTA", what do you have to say for yourself now!! I remember when we were so against it back in the mid eighties but I didn't understood that it was Mulroney's (past Prime Minister, Conservation; currently being investigated for fraud and corruption) way of setting the parameters for Canada to build a global economic framework. Heady stuff when interest rates were as high as 18%!! Who the heck cared when you were losing your job/house/ etc.

Our current leader of the Opposition Party in Pariament (Liberal Party of Canada) would be lucky to get 500 people to stand in the f*c*ing freezing weather up here to listen to the same old crap - "OUT WITH THE OLD; IN WITH THE NEW - which, by the way, is THE SAME AS THE OLD!!" Where's the Rhinosaurus (sp) Party when you need it??!!

God, give me something to chew on.

Meow!!!!
At the same time, i bow my head, i know so little.
love heather

CANADA, WAKE UP

2009-01-05T11:09:00.003-05:00

Although Jon Stewart loves to giggle about us, Canada really IS in a serious 'constitutional crisis' due to lack of confidence in the parliament that was formed in Oct. 2008. The leader of the Liberal (Democrat) party was airlifted out in late November (see: Sarah Palin) and the new guy - intellectual, academic and as exciting as past is at his retreat finishing some book on his family roots!

So, ok - Christmas is a 'let the agenda go to hell' kind of period that goes on and on and on (esp. for politicians) but COME ON. Step up the to bat, you ding-a-ling. Get yourself ready to take over the leadership of the country- WHAT'S YOUR STRATEGY. GET OUT YOUR BLACKBERRY FOR GOD'S SAKE

Is it important (Canadian politics)...Well, according to Steward, no, not really - we've got Milton-Bradley money and a Prime Minister who glues his hair in place. You may giggle now, hahaha, Mr. Stewart but let's wait and see who gets the last laugh!! Our plan to take over the world with politeness and obsequience and apathy is going forward as planned (evil laugh).

2009-01-04T21:51:00.000-05:00

2009-01-02T23:29:00.001-05:00

At this point in "the journey", i've taken to imagining 'everything is alright', even though i know it is not. I am not she who sat on committees, supervised programs, managed resources and people. I do not "do" these things anymore and i'm still caught up in having to stop doing them.

2008-12-28T08:23:00.001-05:00

My hope has been both stymied and buoyed up by experience. I have ups and downs. People's moods bounce around