Sunday, June 28, 2015

Going Back to College

I am currently enrolled at St. Louis University or SLU. This is their website:

I am very excited about going back. For now, I will be attending through their online program but who knows what the future holds? My first love was Science and it still is today. However, my initial focus will be to sharpen my writing skills as I am determined to get myself OUT of poverty and I am wanting to earn some income writing. With the Internet so much can be accomplished and I am planning on making that work for me as best I can.

I also love to learn and I feel like I am wilting if I don't learn at least something new every day. I am not excited about the going into more debt part of it but I am keeping an optimistic smile on my face and in my heart and I am giving this my 100%. 

Why I Am Spilling My Guts

It helps me to face and accept what ails me and it gives my mood a much needed lift. I have inside me a lot of negative and unproductive toxic junk and once I face it and accept it for what it truly is I feel much better.

To me facing it for what it really is is critically important in healing. I have encountered in my life a consistent attitude that I understand first hand. I have been scared to face the dark, negative and ugly thoughts I have found in my own head. I did not know how to manage them or even if it was possible to manage them. So I did what I was taught to do. I stuffed them.

Sound familiar? I stuffed them back into the dark recesses of my thoughts and did everything I could to sedate myself so I did not have to encounter them. I would drink myself into oblivion or eat myself into oblivion or drug myself into oblivion. However I could gain the best level of numbness possible worked for me. Or so I thought.

I ended up needing more and more alcohol or more and more drugs or more and more food. This behavior never satisfied me. Do you know why that is?

I'll tell you: it never satisfied me or got me what I truly needed to resolve whatever ailed me because it did not identify exactly what was wrong so I could assemble a solid plan of action to correct it.

Do you have a doctor you see? Why do you go to him or her? Is it because they can diagnose what is going on plus they provide you with a solution hopefully. Knowing exactly what the problem is is most of the solution. Do you understand why that is? It's because that is your current reality. You have a handful of symptoms and your doctor told you what it is.

Knowledge is power. You are not flailing around in the dark; you now have the answer you were looking for and a plan of action to correct it to the best of your ability.

Mental health issues are no different from physical health issues. If you don't know exactly what is bothering you you will never get to the other side of it successfully. You will never experience the joy of getting those ugly thoughts resolved and silent for good.

I know what that feels like. I know what that joy and that  relief and that anxiety reducing experience feels like. It C-O-M-P-L-E-T-E-L-Y R-O-C-K-S


Over the years, I have faced many of my personal demons. I know that I still have a long way to go and I know that I will get myself there one day at a time.

I am on MY path to Recovery and it is so much more peaceful and easier than it was when I first began it.

Before, I dreaded going to sleep at night because the problems would overcrowd my brain and the anxiety would take hold of me and I would end up crying myself to sleep.

Now, I look forward to each and every morning because when I go to bed at night I can easily settle down and actually get to sleep. All of those nasty problems that overcrowded my brain are resolved and done with. I faced them all with the help of a very talented psychotherapist but I faced them. And you can too.

I am hoping that you are asking me how did I do that?

I had to sit down and accept them for what they were and how they affected me. Someone said something cruel to me and it crushed me. That is very real and once I accepted my reality that it crushed me I was then able to move past it. It was painful and it was tough to do but I did it. I got myself through it and past it.

To be continued....................

Saturday, June 27, 2015

Why This Bully Bullied

It was what I learned in the environment I was raised in. I can't call it a home although that is what it looked like to others. It never was a home of any kind whatsoever, at no point in time. No matter how many times we moved which we did almost every 2 years like clockwork. I don't think I know why exactly we moved so often. My mother was a pathological liar so under no circumstances could what came out of her mouth be trusted. Never. At. Any. Point. In.Time.

We have very serious problems with bullies in our world today. I bet that there are millions more instances we don't hear about. It's a huge problem and I am pretty sure all of us know people who are being bullied because bullies are everywhere. They are not only in our schools, they are in our churches, businesses, doctor's offices, lawyer's offices and in every walk of life.

Being a bully is a state of mind with outward aggression. It is also learned behavior. All bullies learned to bully from a bully. I am not saying that bullies can't be born, I am saying that the behavior we develop is learned in our childhoods. Unless we sit down and honestly face ourselves and commit to changing that behavior, it will remain unchanged. The longer it stays the same, the worse it gets.

For example, I remember a neighbor girl who I knew when I was about 10 I think. Her family lived up the street from us and I think her dad also taught at the same college my mother did. Her mom did not like me, I remember that very clearly. I was a very messed up kid so I am sure she had good reason not to. I remember that there was a 3rd girl with us and we were inside my home. For some reason, I chewed out the little girl who lived up the street. I chewed her out so badly, she burst into tears. I can remember feeling bad about that but I had no idea on how to fix that situation. I did not know how to apologize to someone for hurting them. No one had ever taught me how to.

I want you to bear in mind that most of my childhood is a blank to me. I do not remember one single Christmas morning, no Holidays at all. I remember 2 quick flashes of snapshots of Halloween. The same of my birthday, 2 brief flashes like a snapshot and then nothing else. I remember some class occurrences but no continuity. My recall of my childhood is very very fragmented.

The little girl ran home and I never saw her again. But I remember feeling really bad for having caused her so much pain that I did not know how to avoid. I behaved how the people I grew up with behaved. The tension and the fighting was terrible and it went on for decades.

The abuse that went on at home had to be completely hidden from anyone outside. My mother was physically violent and she game me frequent beatings and very harsh punishments. I remember being confined to my bedroom for 6 weeks because I made a "C" on my reports card. She shamed me and confined me to my room until the next report cards came out 6 weeks later. I could leave my room to use the bathroom and to go to school but that was it. My meals were brought to me on a tray. 6 solid and very long weeks punished confined to my bedroom. It was awful, I longed to go outside to play with the neighborhood kids I could see from my window but I couldn't.

My mother was very sadistic and self-centered to the extreme. I never felt like her daughter, she never once told me that she loved me or that she had my back. She bullied me into shame and embarrassment and if I did not agree with every single thing she said, I would be screamed at and punished. She was impossible to please and she criticized everyone behind their backs. EVERYONE! No one was safe from her, absolutely everyone we knew and encountered she would rip to bloody shreds in the privacy of our home. Now I think I know why she did that. She thought she was superior to everyone else and no one could measure up to her insane standards that were completely unrealistic.

No adults we ever encountered would measure up. How would a little kid who was completely dependent on her for her very survival?

It was no wonder that I turned into a bully; it was modeled and beaten into me by an expert.

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Lies My Mother Taught Me

I am the youngest child of a very nasty sadistic psychopath. True story, I was given her diagnosis in psychotherapy. It is based on how I was raised and my result as a needy, terrified, promiscuous and self-destructive alcoholic. Lucky me, I was screwed from the very second I was conceived. I became the woman I became because of the environment I was raised in. The woman I am today is the result of many years of very hard work, brutal and honest self-reflection and countless hours of psychotherapy.

Believe me when I say that I am grateful on a daily basis that I did not have to stay that way. My life in recovery began in 1990. Currently, I am very happily in my 7th year clean and sober and on 11/16/2015 I will begin my 8th year, just as happily. And on I will continue until I draw my last breath.

I grew up being told that nothing I ever did was good enough. I grew up being told that no one would want me. I grew up being criticized and nitpicked for everything I did. I grew up believing that I was defective and insignificant. I believed that I was invisible and that I had no rights. My mother never told me one time that she loved me or that she was proud of me. She badgered me and pummeled me daily with hateful and profoundly damaging spewed verbiage. I was abused verbally, emotionally and physically. She controlled me by withholding money and affection. I was bullied at school for being smart and bullied at home where no one protected me from her. No one on either side of my family tried to protect me from her.

It is no big secret that child abuse carries that damage for an entire lifetime. Child abuse easily catapults its young innocent and tender victims into a life of depression, rage, addiction and self-destructive behaviors. The hardest issue I processed in psychotherapy was facing and accepting my reality that my own flesh and blood who gave birth to me was a true monster.She never ever loved me for even a second of our life together. It was gut-wrenching but I faced it with the help and guidance of my psychotherapist and I got it resolved and behind me.

When I was in the second grade, we were given aptitude tests and I can remember mother talking to my second grade teacher. My teacher wanted me to go into special classes to develop my skills and mother refused. She said it would do me more harm than good. I remember the reaction and expression of my teacher. She was floored and shocked at mother's answer. The truth is that mother was narcissistic and I presented a threat to her almost nonexistent ego so she eliminated any competition present. She relentlessly trained me to fail and when I did fail, she was even more vicious than before.

My mother taught me horrible lies and pummeled them incessantly into my head. That pummeling provided me with a negative useless and unproductive foundation I attempted to live on but I failed miserably time and time again. I had no idea why everything I tried failed or how to make better decisions for myself. I was promiscuous and I accepted any man who would pay the tiniest amount of attention to me, not knowing how to discern who was safe and who was abusive. I was familiar with controlling behavior and that is what I went after. I was easy prey for controlling and narcissistic men and I would be for most of my life until I got to the point where I could understand why I caved to the controlling and began to stand up for myself and learn to assertively say "NO".

Thursday, June 11, 2015

I am but one face of Clinical Depression

I believe that Clinical Depression is a topic that simply requires all of the exposure possible. I hope to achieve some of that by sharing about this aspect of my life; I hope to increase awareness. 

There are people who are depressed and do not know that about themselves. I was one of those people. 

My diagnosis of  Clinical Depression in 1990 absolutely floored me! I sought out a psychotherapist because I was having problems in my home life. At that time, I was living with my boyfriend and his raging alcoholic father who would leave a loaded shotgun by our front door. 

Once I got into psychotherapy, I found myself venting about my mother and not about my current situation. We also talked about my drinking problem. I kept returning to my therapy appointments and my therapist would gently encourage me to join a rehabilitation program to get my drinking problem under control. I resisted this for a long time but finally I agreed.

I found an agency locally I could join. I had to present a letter to my boss requesting my schedule be such so I could attend the outpatient program that met in the morning. Embarrassed, I presented my boss with the request and she accommodated me. The program was, I think, over a 9-week period and I cannot remember how many times a week we met. What I do remember is this: there were 13 of us. The morning I joined, the only other woman was completing her program with the agency and that was her last meeting there. So there I was, the only girl in a large group of 12 other addicts I knew absolutely nothing about.

As we went around the room and shared about ourselves, I realized that I was the only person there who had not gotten in to trouble with the law. Every single man in that session had served probation due to legal problems with their addiction. One had gone through a 3-day blackout and had murdered another human being.

I went home after that meeting and cried my eyes out. Actually, I did that after most of the meetings. Until then, I had absolutely no idea how close I had been to danger.

I became an addict because of the home environment I grew up in. I learned that in psychotherapy. I am the result of long term and unrelenting child abuse. Because of that, I have spent almost my entire life clinically depressed.

When I was diagnosed in 1990, I had already attempted suicide on one occasion. I became an alcoholic because I drank in a vain attempt to suppress my feelings that signaled regular ambushes to me. I did not know why that was going on within me and I had absolutely no idea on how to manage that. I knew how to fight back aggressively and I knew how to evade; that is what I focused on day in and day out. I was exhausted trying to survive and I would remain exhausted for many years to come.

Sunday, June 7, 2015

Some of What I Hope to Accomplish with My Blog About Me Being Disabled and In Poverty

Do you know what the numbers are showing about how many people in our country live in poverty? What do you know about the morbidly obese? And the disabled, what do you know about them? What about those who are clinically depressed? Unless we look for these numbers, we will not hear them on our daily news or in our papers unless they choose to post it. On occasion, someone will try to live on food stamps for one week or they try to eat one week of meals spending only $25.00. We hear something about how that went and what their experiences were. Then the headlines return to others new events and articles about living in poverty lose their exposure.

There are so many important issues people face and struggle through every single day and those issues need a lot more coverage than they get.

I want to increase awareness showing what my life is like currently. I am 58 years old, I am morbidly obese, disabled, in poverty, am a recovering alcoholic and dealing with Clinical Depression. Every single day of my life, I try my best to deal with those issues I try my best to shake. Like anything, some days are better than others are.

I know that I am not alone.

Maybe I can connect with others like me.

Maybe my postings help someone better understand someone they know who has similar problems.

Maybe you have answers you can share.

Maybe together we can come up with some solutions.

I believe that anything is possible.