2011

I didn't die...I just fell of the face of the earth for awhile!  Last year I was ill after the New Year, but this year I decided to get ill at my son's house where my moaning and groaning could be witnessed, and where Matt could engage with hujan beings while I wriggles and writhed aroubnd in my bed pumped up on Gravol, which did little or nothing to relieve my symptoms.  I drove home in this state, with the windows down for the first 2 hours, much to the dismay of my son and my dogs!  The alternative, I told them, would be much nastier than cold air!!! A week later, and I'm still weak, having lost 15 pounds in the process.  There are definitely better ways to lose weight, but I'll take what I can get.  So off to a new year....new challenges,...new revelations...and I'm rooting for a new member of our family to be created!!!  I promise to do better with my postings, which dwindled down to nothing, and probably for the best as emotional pain is difficult to share.  At present I do not want to die, and Iwill hold out hope for a new season to my life.  My mother turned 90 this past month, and though I wouldn't want to be 90, it does leave aspirations to perhaps a second part of my life.  Who knows!!!!

Musings

If all the world's humans suddenly were trasnformed into Golden Retrievers what a world it would be...
There would be no war, no bullying, no video games (can't play Xbox without thumbs!) there would be no more tv reality programs, just dog shows, noone would care if they had dog hair on their clothes, because their clothes would be dog hair! The only problem is.....................................................................
WHO WOULD THROW THE BALL?

The Slide

It's been a long, slow, slide down the slippery road to hell this year.  My depression began in July, and slowly dragged me into the muck and mire of "The Pit", where I've spent considerable time soaked with tears and drowning in dark thoughts, researching suicide options and their messiness ratings...where would i go so that I wouldn't be readily discovered, especially by Matt...and all the other "thinking" that goes with this phase.  How worthless I am....how much I've disappointed everyone, and keep disappointing them.  For awhile, I had reached a stage where as long as I could "work" my way to being valuable....by doing the most I could do to be thought well of...not ever expecting to be cherished, although that's been my life's desire....but enough to earn some "credits" on my life's account that's forever in the red///I can't do that anymore.  I'm too sick to do all the things I used to do...to be able to help other people, and therefore earn my merit...now I am worthless and valueless again.  This is very frightening because I thought the Lithium was my lifeline, but it appears that after 3 years maybe not.  This is not comforting.  The next course suggested is Electro convulsive therapy, which I have assisted in administering, but have never received, and it just seems such a drastic and barbaric treatment...and what happens if it doesn't work?  What relief can I expect and from where? I don't know how many more trips to hell I can stand, and the recovery process though dramatic in the removal of dark thoughts, the weepy sadness continues, and it seems as if I'm stuck only half way back. At 51 I'm an old soul with more to look back on and little to look forward to.  That's no comfort either.  This load is getting harder and harder to carry...the burden of all that has occurred after my innocence was taken from me.  People who don't understand think that "abuse" is a singular event, or span of time that ends when the touching and manipulation ends, but unfortunately it's not.  The child that I was....the potential that I had as that intact child with all the hopes and dreams of that innocence was murdered, and only the gaping wound remained, waiting to be healed....waiting....waiting to be healed.  Try to imagine a child....with that open wound...in your presence.  Would you expect that child to think, feel, behave and grow as if he/she wasn't wounded?  Would your expectations be that they think, feel, and behave as if they aren't wounded?  That is most often the case...the walking wounded, never be able to achieve or fulfill the expectations that existed before the murder...before the wound...go through life emotionally, spiritually, and very often physically wounded by addictions and illness...disabled.  Like a wounded veteran with an amputation...walking with a limp...except that no one blames them for walking with a limp...no one says...why did you make that choice to get blown up, shot at.  It would be so wonderful to share that burden....be relieved of having to carry the weight of all that guilt....to have the full extent of my injury acknowledged not for the purpose of blame, but for the purpose of validation....This road has been long and hard....and very, very lonely. I want to get off this road, but I don't know how to make it happen on my own because relieving some of my pain means that someone else must take it on, and that will cause them pain.  I'm not sure whether self protection is the reason behind the lack of understanding, or simply just plain old lack of understanding.  My sister called me the other day after meeting with her accupuncturist and seemed very surprised that when she shared my history with him of Fibromyalgia etc. he immediately asked if I had been abused!  It never occurred to me that she didn't know that the two were related!!!

Catholic Child Molesters

Watching a CNN investigative report about...what else....child abuse by priests in the catholic church....and i wonder how many people/victims have no faith in God because of the demons who were allowed...no allowed is too easy...who were sustained under the protection of the catholic church.  How many lives...victims, parents of victims, brother and sisters of victims, spouses of victims, friends of victims...and on and on it goes, have left the church and maybe faith as well.  I sometimes feel that the punishment for anyone involved in protecting thereby perpetrating these crimes should be victimized themselves but it wouldn't be the same unless the power ratio is right.  But they obviously have no empathetic or intelligent understanding of what happens to a child when they are assaulted...and it is sexual assault...we make it sound almost like having fudge brownies with father fry when we say "molested"...it describes NOTHING that haunts a victim for the rest of their lives.  They are permanently altered in their innermost parts....their souls, their spirit, their self worth is gone and everything that happens immediately following this assault will shape this individuals abilityy to remould their psyche so as not to have their being destroyed.  Who these people were before these assaults, is not the same as who they are now...but you may say, people are victims of car accidents and can't walk but they get on with it.  Thank God they do, and I pray for that for all victims...but it is different for sex abuse survivors...it's not so easy to heal from deep within, where even you yourself may not immediately understand all that is going on in your own head, why you feel the way you do, the difficulty in relationships, trust, expectations.  I myself didn't confront my molester per say, he told me off after my Mother told him to stop.  I'll never forget that day.  I knew Mom had spoken to him and was pretty sure he would find a way to confront me even with my grandmother there and he did! I rang the buzzer, and granny answered (I went there for lunch).  Mom had said I only had to go if Granny was there, so I went up, but granny was now in the kitchen around the corner making lunch...he pulled me in and pinned me up against the door and pulled my head close to his ear and hissed at me..."I hear you've spoken to your mother"...and that was all he had time for as granny rounded the corned he released me.  It was all I could do not to vomit all over the floor!  I had lunch (!!) while trying not to see him masturbating behind the opened newspaper directed towards me. I kept my lunch down until I walked back to school.  It took me awhile to get up the nerve to say anything again and after that I lived a life parallel to him in order to keep peace. It probably would have been better for my self esteem if I had taken back control from him in a formal way....but hindsight is a wonderful but useless tool.  I should perhaps write him a letter describing to him exactly the enormity of the damage he perpetrated, along with the collateral damage in the rest of my remaining life...he's dead, and was also a staunch Catholic. At least I got over my anger with God for not answering my pleas to make it stop...complete with a kneeler made out of library steps and holy water given to me by my priest!!!
If you haven't been sexually/assaulted/molested, I ask you to be sensitive to those who have this journey to make, and get help for yourself too, someone to talk to and bounce things off.  Trying to ignore it probably won't be as helpful to you as dealing with it head on.
As a final note...the Pope knows what he should be doing, and isn't.  He'll lose a large following for the Catholic Church and I don't think Peter would or is pleased!!

The View from in Here/ You're Worth It

well I'm still in the pit...but not at the point of no return.  When I look up too long my neck gets sore and my face gets wetter from the rain but that mixes in with the tears s and just becomes another wet face day!
There's little sun getting down and when I try to muscle up the energy to climb up, hoping to feel the warmth of the sunshine but then I;m become nervous about someone seeing me in such a state and crawl back into the pit. I;m here again...sad SAD sad...weeping is really a game breaker when chatting to people, can't call them up and then burst into tears...not much fun and seems manipulative to me.  Darlene has been such a lifesaver for Matt and me rescuing us from hospital admissions and comforting Matt during both my panic attack and heart attack.  I'm sure she's starting to give up on me...but calling her to bawl down the other end of the phone line just not my thing. This whole "reach out" phobia came naturally from learning by experience that my issues or circumstances weren't  important as compared to everyone else's.I know that sounds petulant, but it really isn't...it's just a statement of fact and happens to allot of people...it happened to my eldest son Paul. There's so much emotion flowing though the family that the one who makes the most noise wins, and the quiet ones just languish in the background noise and try to lick our own wounds...but since we're not old enough to recognize that we are victims of circumstance we internalize our pain, and wounds run deeper.  In my case my family was struggling with a strained married after emigrating from England to Canada, and although I didn't know what was going on, I could feel it...the tension in the air was palpable.  Then my sister was having problems, and she was very angry.  When she wasn't fighting with my parents, which was daily, she fought with me!! Physically, emotionally...whatever way she could, and she knew how to get me too!!She was very angry with me for some reason, and her rage spilled out all over us.  Her experimentation with drugs and alcohol was of great concern, but I was beginning to have had enough.  I couldn't protect my self from her rages, and my parents were besides themselves with what to do with her, but wouldn't kick her out (which is obviously what I wanted...to be safe) so we went to counselling.  That was even more offensive since I was being sexually abused by my grandfather on a daily basis (every lunchtime!) and some days would go from school (which I hated) to counselling which was focused on my sister, and back to being molested, and on again back to school! This was my ninth grade year! I couldn't protect myself from old "Grandpa" either because my Mom was worried that my Grandmother (the greatest woman in the world) would be upset if she discovered what "Grandpa" had been doing to me, and that she would be devastated!!! Curious rationalization you must admit but anyway....I don't remember much of High School at all!!!  Are you surprised!!! Anyway, much later in my troubled life my own middle son created his own stir, and Paul became a victim of that.  Andrew and Paul both were suffering from my poor choices in men...always picked the abusive one...go figure!!! But after many years we got out from under into a little scraggly house in a small village, but that's when the rage began.  By 13 he was bigger than me, by 14 he was threatening me..and by 15 I wrote him up a contract to sign as to behaviour and expectations and he moved out.  Don't know for sure, but I think Paul was greatly relieved and although I love Andrew deeply, I could sleep at night without wondering if he was going to kill me or burn down the house!!!Sounds too dramatic, but it's true.  I feel very responsible for everything I put them through, and I know I was a disappointment to Mom and Dad...but this stuff runs deep, and as long as you try to hide it the more damage it does to you physically and emotionally.  All that cortisol streaming through your veins as you navigate your crazy life using "Fight and Flight" as your core coping strategy ( plus a whole lot of wine!) leaves your body weak and unable to defend itself.  So think about it...are you under huge amounts of stress....don't be a martyr...get help...if you think things in your family are screwed up...talk to someone...if you're a kid...call a counsellor. kids helpline...tell a friend.  Don't struggle on your own and think that's it's all your fault.  You deserve help too...you're not insignificant but sometimes the people who ideally would listen to you are presently"unavailable for comment"! They're too caught up in the drama to see the whole picture. You're Worth it...DO it!!

In the Name of Family

Family can be the best thing in the world, or it can be the worst thing in the world...and sometimes it's a bit of both.  As I said in my last post, my oldest son Paul came up for the weekend and it was so wonderful, I can't even begin to describe how nice it was to have breakfast and dinner made for me, dishes done...he even managed to get Matt into the swim of things!  He took us all out for a delicious lunch and fantastic frappacinos (sp?) We watched movies and talked, and just hung out together.  It was so great I didn't want it to end...but of course it did, and I tried my hardest not to cry when he left but it was impossible and so the sadness continues to seep out.  Also my sister and I had an argument and she has decided that she doesn't like me anymore, and that really sucks since out of my 51 years she's only liked me for about 9 of those and I was starting to get used to that but there again lies the problem.  I should know better by now...guard your heart...as Dr. Phil says "the best indicator of future behaviour is past behaviour." Anyway, I was having a wonderful time feeling very down and defeated and then I turned on the documentary, filmed mostly in Toronto, titled "In the Name of Family", which follows the lives of several young Arab women who were struggling to adapt to our culture, while still living in Arabian culture at home.  The fathers of these girls were consumed with the desire to control their daughters lives, and exhert phenomenal pressure on them to conform to, and be subjected to Sharia Law.  Their friends all said that when they themselves would make a statement like "My father's going to kill me" it was understood that it was all in jest...they were unprepared for the reality that their Arabian girlfriends had to deal with.  It's hard to believe that a father would shoot his own daughter because she smiled at a customer while bagging his groceries...but in a simplistic manner, that was the case.  The girls were expected to wear traditional garb and head dress, but most stored a change of clothes at school so that they could more easily blend in.  Their father's followed them, video taped them, had their brother's stalk them, and be ready to torture the girls on a frequent basis.  When outright rebellion finally came one girl was stabbed by her brother, 2 sisters were shot to death by their father in the back of his Taxi Cab from which he fled the country and hasn't been seen since.  The Misogyny of this culture is all consuming, and there really should be more protection for them.  They are truly beautiful gems, and any father would be concerned for their virtue, like most Canadian fathers I suspect.  The problem is that when they get on that plane in Pakistan they don't leave their misogynistic ways and Sharia Laws behind them.  What is the point then of leaving Arabian countries...presumably to get a better life...but only if you're a male.  Our small village is lacking in it's ethnicity, but the nearest city is starting to become more colourful, which is a good thing, but we all need to be aware of the seriousness of condition that our Arabian sister's  are living, and dying, under.  So if you're ever feeling that your parents are overbearing watch this ...the documentary speaks for itself and I hope you'll get a chance to see it...we must do something to ensure that "honor killings" have a special treatment under our laws to show those considering this path, that we will hunt them down, and they will pay for their vile...evil actions.

"On December 10, 2007, a 16-year-old Toronto schoolgirl, Aqsa, was strangled to death; her father and brother are charged with murder. Three weeks later, teenage sisters were shot to death in Dallas; their father is wanted for murder. Six months later, a 14-year-old girl was stabbed by her brother; he was convicted and is now in jail in New York.Friends and family of the murdered girls paint a chilling portrait of the forces that led to their deaths, and Toronto schoolgirls talk about their lives of constant fear. While Muslim women organize to help girls at risk and the imam at a Toronto mosque teaches that violence has no basis in Islam, some men continue to justify these crimes through patriarchal beliefs about family honour. Award-winning director Shelley Saywell brings her consummate documentary skills and passion for human rights to challenge the traditions that lie behind the heartbreaking tragedies committed against young girls caught between two cultures in North America. - Lynne Fernie" hot docs

Blood, not blood tests, are Good for my Health

Well I got the results of my blood tests back, and there's nothing there to require changes to medications, but therefore no answer to how I've been feeling... However I found another, better, cure for my lugubrious sensibility...it's called...PAUL!!

Yes,...Paul is coming up for the long weekend and I couldn't be more excited...I've promised him I won't clean...but maybe I'll make Matt clean!!!!That works for me!! So he's bringing his several hundred movies with him (he's leaving his projector and theatre at home though!) and Matt is dying to get him out on the Paintball course!  Hope we don't kill him!  Jacquie's working so we won't see her this time...Their wedding anniversary is coming up soon too...1 year ago September 22nd.  Well, we'll see u later....Bye for now. Wish me FUN!!!