Thursday, August 27, 2015
Education in the U. S...you can get involved
Want to be a part of bringing excellence to education in the United States? Here's your chance to get involved. These are exciting and innovative panel proposals!
Public Consulting Group is going to #SXSWedu, and we need your help! Click the link below to learn more about the panels we’ve submitted for this year’s conference, and please take a minute to vote for each of our sessions in the Panel Picker. Each proposal features a synopsis, a photo and a vote button; click on the photo to view details about the proposal, including supporting materials, learning objectives and user comments.
Public voting ends on Friday, 9/4, so vote today! http://bit.ly/1IfVpMr #PCGatSXSW
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Men are from Mars, women are from Venus (revisited)
Boy, my tandem writing assignments never turned out like this! But if they had, oh what fun I could have had :) Hmmm, wonder if this University of Phoenix is the same one flooding the internet with their ads.
Here's a prime example of "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus" offered by an English professor from the University of Phoenix:
The professor told his class one day: "Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth.
Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."
The following was actually turned in by two of his English students:
Rebecca and Gary.
THE STORY:
(first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.
(second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashedout of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.
(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.
(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted, wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the Congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty, the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie.
(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.
(Gary)
Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I'm such an air-headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!"
(Rebecca)
Idiot.
(Gary)
Brainless.
(Rebecca)
Drop dead - YOU NEANDERTHAL!
(Gary)
Go drink some tea - *beep*.
(TEACHER)
A+ -I really liked this one
10,177
The professor told his class one day: "Today we will experiment with a new form called the tandem story. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back, also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back-and-forth.
Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."
The following was actually turned in by two of his English students:
Rebecca and Gary.
THE STORY:
(first paragraph by Rebecca)
At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.
(second paragraph by Gary)
Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17," he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashedout of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.
(Rebecca)
He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspaper to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.
(Gary)
Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted, wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace disarmament Treaty through the Congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty, the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid Laurie.
(Rebecca)
This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.
(Gary)
Yeah? Well, my writing partner is a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh, shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of TEA??? Oh no, what am I to do? I'm such an air-headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels!"
(Rebecca)
Idiot.
(Gary)
Brainless.
(Rebecca)
Drop dead - YOU NEANDERTHAL!
(Gary)
Go drink some tea - *beep*.
(TEACHER)
A+ -I really liked this one
10,177
Friday, August 7, 2015
9,996 and counting..
Oh! My wee counter indicates I'm at 9,996 page views. Will it turn over 10,000 before midnight? Stay tuned...
Friday, July 31, 2015
M. E. M. #2 (Mom's Eternal Memories)
#Bullying #Ifeelanotherstorycomingon
#MomsEternalMemories
"It's the people who always dish it out, that can never take it."
The memory of my mother's voice uttering those words is fresh in my mind. And now other words are boiling in my mind and I have to let them out.
But first, a disclaimer. The words I am about to write are directly related to the following: national events, world events, Facebook status updates, Tweets, and daily conversations. This status update is not directed at any one person. If, at any time you feel this about you, I suggest you seek professional help. Perhaps you have a guilty conscience. However, I will be giving credit to those who directly inspired me to write this entry.
Sad isn't it that I have to begin an entry with a disclaimer? The way things are today, someone will be offended by my words. Oh well...I am tired of being silent. My silence serves no purpose.
Recently, two things took place that caused a paradigm shift in my thinking. One was a comment made by a high school class mate, the other was made by my cousin. Upon reading about my childhood, the classmate strongly (and rightfully) applauded my decision to break my pattern of silence and speak up. Thank you. In a different update, my cousin recently observed that perhaps I missed my calling as a writer. On the contrary, I believe I am finally answering it.
I see by the clock on the wall my lunch hour is over. Stayed tuned...I will be back to pick up where I left off.
Okay, picking this up.
With bullies, there is no gray area. It's pretty black and white. Their end goal is to inflict pain. They enjoy it. It pleases them. So let's justcall a spade, a spade tell it like it is. A bully is a terrorist. An emotional terrorist. They are cowards, no better or different than any radical terrorist group in the news.
Because that's what they are.
Personally I have a long history with bullies. As a child I had my share of their tactics. So did my younger sister. On a regular basis she came home from school in tears, the victim of yet another bully. Mom was working so it was I who stepped in to console and comfort her; wiping tears away while her sobs shook her little body in my arms. At night, I could hear her muffled sobs in her bedroom directly above mine. Instinctively, I got out of bed, walked up the stairs of the basement and went to her, fully understanding her pain. I just wanted to be a sponge and absorb it all away. Mom raised the roof at the school to no avail. This went on until the day my sister finally had enough, fought back and stood up to him. He never bothered her again. The same worked for me; the times I confronted a bully, she immediately backed down. It took her completely by surprise, and she was blissfully unaware of how she affected me. On one occasion I confronted a bully at work, and when the shock of being called out wore off, she switched to tears and laid a pile of excuses at my feet for her behavior. I gave her a hug because I knew it was what she needed at that moment. But she never changed or stopped the bullying behavior. She just found another target and continued to spread her toxic waste into the environment.
Bullies are everywhere. We all know they exist in school. The internet is a breeding ground for bullies and trolls. No one is safe, not when the bully or troll can hide behind the anonymity of a computer screen or smart phone. Actress Ashley Judd recently wrote an article about bullies after she was attacked repeatedly on Twitter for making a comment about a college basketball game. The things men and women posted about her was dispictable and unexcusable. Petty and childish. A game the bully knows and plays well. No reasonable minded, healthy, mature person over the age of 21 behaves with that kind of malice.
That's the thing about bullies. Freedom of speech only applies to them. They can say what they want, and justify it as 'expressing their feelings.' Call them out or stand up to them, and the worst of the worse bully will flare their ire. How dare you question them!
Bullies in the work place are so common companies must address the problem through policies, actionable steps and training. A few years ago I read that supervisors spend at least 20 percent of their time dealing with the fallout from bullies (aka toxic people...let's face it, they are one and the same). That's 8 hours a week; one whole day, wasted. All because some unhappy person lacks impulse control. Or engages in gossip. The bigger the company, the more bullies are present. Bullies and their negative behavior directly affect a company's bottom line. They hamper productivity, cause high turnover rates, ruin company morale, and can ultimately destroy an organization's credibility. Their behavior costs employers money. If not appropriately addressed a company can find themselves at the wrong end of an expensive lawsuit. That's just within the private sector. Now let's consider all the branches of government: cities, counties, states, and federal. You got people dealing with bullies there as well.
Is it any wonder our country is in such a huge mess?
Where does it start? Where does it end? We all know how horrible the problem is in schools. This year alone I personally know of three people directly affected by a bully in school. And sadly, all three of the targets of the bullying suffered until they finally put an end to it by ending their life. Only then did the bullying stop.
Why did it have to come to that?
The thing about bullies is they often won't own up to their behavior; they refuse to be held responsible, blaming their actions on outside influences. They pass off their bad behavior with rhetoric and excuses, such as "I'm having a bad day," or "I'm stressed out because _____", or "I'm worried about ________." They are masters at deflecting the blame away from themselves.
So what can we do about it? Educate yourself. As with any social problem, ignorance is the enemy.
Know how to identify a bully or toxic personality. 1) They're controlling. 2) They gossip. 3) They lie. 4) They play the victim. 5) They always come first, and don't think about your feelings. 6) They're negative, critical, judgmental because they lack emotional intelligence. 7) They are arrogant, selfish and deny being a bully. 8) They are always right. 9) They violate your boundaries and they never respect 'no'. 10) It's always about them, and what they think, and want, and feel.
Arm yourself with reliable information. Practice emotional intelligence. There are many excellent resources available on-line.
7 Smart Ways To Deal With Toxic People
12 Ways Successful People Handle Toxic People
Emotional Intelligence - Psychology Today
Emotional intelligence (EQ)
But most of all, speak up. Silence is not the solution to dealing with a bully. Whether at school, at work, or within a circle of family or friends. This is not a case where silence is golden. What you allow, will continue.
That's what a bully is counting on.
Thank you to Kathi and Kathy for sharing your stories about the two students who were bullied. I think about them and their families every day. It is my hope that these words help someone in need, and prevent another tragedy from happening.
And to the brave mothers I know who are building their child's coping skills tool box while they deal with a bully at school or in the neighborhood, I applaud and commend you. Father's too. You are doing the right thing, and practicing emotional intelligence.
9739
#MomsEternalMemories
"It's the people who always dish it out, that can never take it."
The memory of my mother's voice uttering those words is fresh in my mind. And now other words are boiling in my mind and I have to let them out.
But first, a disclaimer. The words I am about to write are directly related to the following: national events, world events, Facebook status updates, Tweets, and daily conversations. This status update is not directed at any one person. If, at any time you feel this about you, I suggest you seek professional help. Perhaps you have a guilty conscience. However, I will be giving credit to those who directly inspired me to write this entry.
Sad isn't it that I have to begin an entry with a disclaimer? The way things are today, someone will be offended by my words. Oh well...I am tired of being silent. My silence serves no purpose.
Recently, two things took place that caused a paradigm shift in my thinking. One was a comment made by a high school class mate, the other was made by my cousin. Upon reading about my childhood, the classmate strongly (and rightfully) applauded my decision to break my pattern of silence and speak up. Thank you. In a different update, my cousin recently observed that perhaps I missed my calling as a writer. On the contrary, I believe I am finally answering it.
I see by the clock on the wall my lunch hour is over. Stayed tuned...I will be back to pick up where I left off.
Okay, picking this up.
With bullies, there is no gray area. It's pretty black and white. Their end goal is to inflict pain. They enjoy it. It pleases them. So let's just
Because that's what they are.
Personally I have a long history with bullies. As a child I had my share of their tactics. So did my younger sister. On a regular basis she came home from school in tears, the victim of yet another bully. Mom was working so it was I who stepped in to console and comfort her; wiping tears away while her sobs shook her little body in my arms. At night, I could hear her muffled sobs in her bedroom directly above mine. Instinctively, I got out of bed, walked up the stairs of the basement and went to her, fully understanding her pain. I just wanted to be a sponge and absorb it all away. Mom raised the roof at the school to no avail. This went on until the day my sister finally had enough, fought back and stood up to him. He never bothered her again. The same worked for me; the times I confronted a bully, she immediately backed down. It took her completely by surprise, and she was blissfully unaware of how she affected me. On one occasion I confronted a bully at work, and when the shock of being called out wore off, she switched to tears and laid a pile of excuses at my feet for her behavior. I gave her a hug because I knew it was what she needed at that moment. But she never changed or stopped the bullying behavior. She just found another target and continued to spread her toxic waste into the environment.
Bullies are everywhere. We all know they exist in school. The internet is a breeding ground for bullies and trolls. No one is safe, not when the bully or troll can hide behind the anonymity of a computer screen or smart phone. Actress Ashley Judd recently wrote an article about bullies after she was attacked repeatedly on Twitter for making a comment about a college basketball game. The things men and women posted about her was dispictable and unexcusable. Petty and childish. A game the bully knows and plays well. No reasonable minded, healthy, mature person over the age of 21 behaves with that kind of malice.
Bullies in the work place are so common companies must address the problem through policies, actionable steps and training. A few years ago I read that supervisors spend at least 20 percent of their time dealing with the fallout from bullies (aka toxic people...let's face it, they are one and the same). That's 8 hours a week; one whole day, wasted. All because some unhappy person lacks impulse control. Or engages in gossip. The bigger the company, the more bullies are present. Bullies and their negative behavior directly affect a company's bottom line. They hamper productivity, cause high turnover rates, ruin company morale, and can ultimately destroy an organization's credibility. Their behavior costs employers money. If not appropriately addressed a company can find themselves at the wrong end of an expensive lawsuit. That's just within the private sector. Now let's consider all the branches of government: cities, counties, states, and federal. You got people dealing with bullies there as well.
Is it any wonder our country is in such a huge mess?
Where does it start? Where does it end? We all know how horrible the problem is in schools. This year alone I personally know of three people directly affected by a bully in school. And sadly, all three of the targets of the bullying suffered until they finally put an end to it by ending their life. Only then did the bullying stop.
Why did it have to come to that?
The thing about bullies is they often won't own up to their behavior; they refuse to be held responsible, blaming their actions on outside influences. They pass off their bad behavior with rhetoric and excuses, such as "I'm having a bad day," or "I'm stressed out because _____", or "I'm worried about ________." They are masters at deflecting the blame away from themselves.
So what can we do about it? Educate yourself. As with any social problem, ignorance is the enemy.
Know how to identify a bully or toxic personality. 1) They're controlling. 2) They gossip. 3) They lie. 4) They play the victim. 5) They always come first, and don't think about your feelings. 6) They're negative, critical, judgmental because they lack emotional intelligence. 7) They are arrogant, selfish and deny being a bully. 8) They are always right. 9) They violate your boundaries and they never respect 'no'. 10) It's always about them, and what they think, and want, and feel.
Arm yourself with reliable information. Practice emotional intelligence. There are many excellent resources available on-line.
7 Smart Ways To Deal With Toxic People
12 Ways Successful People Handle Toxic People
Emotional Intelligence - Psychology Today
Emotional intelligence (EQ)
But most of all, speak up. Silence is not the solution to dealing with a bully. Whether at school, at work, or within a circle of family or friends. This is not a case where silence is golden. What you allow, will continue.
That's what a bully is counting on.
Thank you to Kathi and Kathy for sharing your stories about the two students who were bullied. I think about them and their families every day. It is my hope that these words help someone in need, and prevent another tragedy from happening.
And to the brave mothers I know who are building their child's coping skills tool box while they deal with a bully at school or in the neighborhood, I applaud and commend you. Father's too. You are doing the right thing, and practicing emotional intelligence.
9739
Monday, July 6, 2015
Thursday, July 2, 2015
L. I. L. (Lessons In Life) edited 7/12/2015
9296
Welcome to the karma cafe. There is no menu. You are served what you deserve.
In my travels I've seen and heard a lot of things about karma. It's in songs, books, movies, memes and discussed in round about ways over dinner, drinks and debates. There are many ways to express it.
What goes around, comes around.
What you put out into the world, comes back to you ten fold.
Any way you put it, it still shakes out the same. Sooner or later, everything you do comes back to you in the form of a lesson. But it's only a lesson if you are paying attention. If you learn the lesson, you say to yourself, point taken, so noted, got it. Thank you and move on. If you don't learn and you aren't paying attention, the lesson is repeated over and over and over, like a never ending scene from Ground Hog Day. Stuck on repeat until something different happens.
And one thing I know is, wishing bad karma on someone is wishing bad karma on yourself. It was the quote at the beginning of this entry, that...the moment I read it I was immediately reminded of an encounter with karma that deeply hit home, like a fly ball sent deep into the stands of left field.
And then there is forgiveness.
Forgiveness is a powerful thing. It can cleanse every part of you, restore and rebalance your heart and lift your soul to the heights of joy; the kind of joy expressed by children at play. And that's the best thing. It sets you free...to live your life as it is intended.
Because the thing I've learned about forgiveness is that when you forgive someone, you are not releasing them from a past hurt, you are releasing yourself from the poison of anger.
If you knew that, why would you want to hold on to feelings like resentment and bitterness?
Some people can hold a grudge, and some hang on to resentment for a lifetime. My mother was like that, and on some measure we all have that capacity in us. For some resentment is fleeting, floating in the air like a soap bubble, clear and light, before it vanishes with a pop. And when it’s gone, it’s gone. Over and done with. Never to be brought up again. Then there are those who carry resentment like a hammer, wielding it whenever and wherever they can. And if the opportunity to express a lifetime of bitterness presents itself, they take it. Regardless of the circumstances.
Such was the case of a woman from my father’s past, that I knew of but never met. Until the day my father’s long battle with cancer put him in the hospital in preparation for the end of his journey.
It was on a quiet afternoon, sitting with my father in his room, that a valuable lesson in life revealed itself to me. Up until that day I'd never met anyone who didn't like my father; well, okay there was my mother. And they didn't exactly part on amiable terms. But that story is for another day.
On this day, dad was still lucid and we were watching the television show Law & Order, a favorite of his. It was just dad and I in the room. The door was slightly ajar and muffled sounds of distant medical staff engulfed in their daily routine occasionally filtered in. Dad and I were simply enjoying each others company. What lied ahead or behind us mattered not. It was all about the present.
I sensed her presence out in the hall before I saw her. When I took my eyes off the television, she stepped into the room, taking only two slow but determined steps before stopping, never taking her eyes off dad. I didn't recognize her. She was much older than my father and in her eyes I saw a look that was far from friendly. Her steely eyes were hard and harsh. Short gray hair, perfectly coiffed and curled, she could have been anybody's grandmother. Short in height and slight in figure, with an air of dignity about her.
Behind the frames of her glasses her eyes narrowed a bit just before she spoke. "Well, Donnie," she said with an upward thrust of her chin. "I see you finally got what you deserve." She lingered for a brief second, then turned abruptly and walked out of the room.
In that moment I knew exactly who she was. And what brought her to the hospital. In another room down the hall, was her husband.
And I should have said something. How dare she speak to my father, in his present condition, like that! But her words, so abrupt and delivered with an icy smack of seething bitterness, stunned me into silence.
With the weight of her words still heavy in the air, I got up from my chair and stepped to dad's side. In that awkward moment, I looked deep into his eyes and saw the hollow remnants of his pain in them. Taking his hand, feeling the shock of her vengeful words needling my guts, I smiled tenderly at him and sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I don’t care what anybody says,” I whispered. “I love you. You don’t deserve this.”
Dad smiled and patted my knee. “Don’t worry about it honey,” he said with a wave of his hand, as if to push her words and memory out of the air. “She believes she has a right to be angry. And she’s been angry at me for a very long time.”
I shook my head, completely aware of the history between these two. “You’d think she’d be over it by now,” I observed, glancing out towards the hall, half expecting her to return to the room to start round two.
“Not her,” dad expressed with a deep sigh. “She’ll hang on to it like a dog with a bone.” His bright blue eyes shifted from the television to my eyes. “Some folks just can’t let go. They don’t know how. Or they don‘t want to…”
I felt for him. I felt of him. A simple man, paying the price for something that happened when he was a teenager.
The room was quiet again. Distant voices in the hall broke the uncomfortable silence now between us.
And I wondered. How long had she waited to say those horrible words to my father? Upon hearing my father was dying in the hospital, did she plan to walk into his room with the main goal of making that remark? Or was it a spur of the moment decision?
I'll never know, but that doesn't matter. What matters for me, as long as I live, is I’ll never forget the feeling this brief encounter with this one woman put inside my heart. And I know I don't ever want to be a bitter, hateful woman, young or old. Not like that. Not like her.
Just days after dad's funeral I attended the funeral of her husband.
Odd isn't it? How that one quote about the karma cafe always makes me think about that moment with my dad. Leaving me to wonder if karma, like justice, is blind when holding the scale of life. When it comes to sorting through facts to find the weight of truth, I know it's not blind. But people often are.
It's been said time heals all wounds. Perhaps. But I do believe forgiveness is the key that starts the process of healing.
Lesson learned.
9296
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Lessons learned
M.E.M. (Moms Eternal Memories)
You can't judge a book by its cover.
I have a secret. Many actually. A lifetime of secrets.
And one day in high school in a creative writing class I decided to write a book about my life. I had a story to tell. At least at that point of time I believed I did.
It's been said, be careful what you wish for because you just might get it. A lot of truth there, I can tell you. At the time I knew I had a powerful story to share. Little did I know then, what I had experienced in the first seventeen years of my life would be just the beginning. What lied ahead, waiting for me around the corner were moments that, as I sit here now I find my whole body shaking and tears welling in my eyes with just the simple thought. Memories. You just never know.
My eyes have seen things I can't unsee. My heart has felt heartbreak so overwhelmingly profound I wondered if life was worth living. My ears have heard words filled with hatred so deep that just one tone of voice can paralyze me. And my body has felt pain so intense it literally shut down to spare me from the intensity.
But through it all I found my saving grace. The human spirit. Mine.
Lessons learned.
I am a love child of the late 1950s. My parents never married and went their separate ways before I turned two. I am an adult survivor of horrific child abuse at the hands of an evil monster named Beulah. My mother trusted her, but Beulah regularly stripped me of my clothing and beat me with the buckle end of a belt until I blacked out from the pain. At night she filled my bladder with water before putting me to bed. And then beat me if I got out of bed to use the bathroom. For no reason. I'll never know why. But once the abuse was discovered mom stepped in and stopped it. Shortly after that I took my first plane ride at the age of three from Los Angeles to Portland, Oregon, alone. Jealousy and a lie became the wedge placed between my father and I which resulted in his complete removal from my life. I was raised by an alcoholic step-father, a man I both loved and feared. Placed in the role of father to an instant family he tried but I believe he was unprepared for life as an adult. So he turned to alcohol. More than once I witnessed him beat my mother after drinking heavily. Abuse. Separation. Abandonment. Violence. Alcoholism. Dysfunction. My life encapsulated all these experiences before I reached my thirteenth year on this planet.
They fought constantly, until she had enough and moved me and my two younger sisters from Los Angeles back to her home town of Clarkston. But this time she was unprepared for what lied ahead. Through the eyes of a teenager I watched with delight as mom found the love of her life in another man. It was short lived. Three years into their relationship he disappeared unexpectedly and mom desperately searched for him. And through those same eyes I watched my mother fall to pieces when it all finally got to her and she suffered a nervous breakdown. Our roles reversed as I bathed her, dressed her and fed her until she regained her mental capacity. Then a year later came the phone call. They found him. Hanging from a tree outside Portland, Oregon. And from that moment my mother lost all hope. Helpless against the tides of change I watched her slowly spiral out of control. We fought constantly and she turned to prescription drugs to ease the pain. I turned to illegal drugs to numb the pain. Life went from bad to worse. She kicked me out of the house, then would beg me to come back, over and over and over again. It became a vicious cycle. Divorce. Mental breakdown. Suicide. Substance abuse. More dysfunction. My life unfolded all these experiences before I reached my twenty-first year on this planet.
And then shortly after my twenty-first birthday, and mom's forty-first, she unexpectedly died.
People can and do die from a broken heart. I know it happens. Unable to replenish her supply from the well of life, her spirit just ran out and she felt defeated. So she gave up.
I won't give up. I refuse to. Over the course of my life, yes, I had those thoughts. But I pushed them aside with a resounding NO! Not me. I have not survived all I've been through just to end it all like that. No. Not this girl. When those thoughts used to come they were immediately followed by the knowledge that I wanted to meet the woman I am learning to become. I want to know who I will be. And I still do.
You see, I have a confession. I love to read. And at some point when I began to read a new book, I'd get about twenty pages into it before I'd want to know how it would end. So I'd find the last page and read the last paragraph just to be sure it wasn't one of those stories with a bad ending, you know.
Upon hearing about my early child abuse, a good friend commented that her life was boring. That nothing ever happened to her. I had to laugh. Be thankful. If you've had a good life where laughter outweighed tears, ask yourself if you would rather trade places with me. I mean, really, would you want to? Just because you didn't experience sweeping highs and crashing lows doesn't mean you haven't lived. I'm thankful for your life because it helps to balance out mine. If not for those of you who had happy childhoods and a relatively easy life I might not have found the balance I needed to carry on. Because through it all someone was always there in my life whose eyes hadn't seen what I've seen. They bring a different perspective to life.
My eyes have seen things I can't unsee, and because of that I learned to find the beauty in everything. My heart has felt heartbreak so overwhelmingly profound I wondered if life was worth living, and because of that I learned the value of empathy. My ears have heard words filled with hatred so deep that just one tone of voice can paralyze me, and because of that I learned to dance to the music of harmony. And my body has felt pain so intense it literally shut down to spare me from the intensity, and because of that I learned coping skills that helped to compel me forward in difficult situations.
Lessons learned.
If I could have one wish, it would be that someday the memories of my early childhood will no longer hurt. That the day will come when I can remember what Beulah did to me without the pain and the tears. And then I will be free.
I don't like using labels on people, but sometimes it helps us understand. And I recently learned many adult survivors deal with something called attachment [edit: corrected to change detachment to attachment] disorder. Knowing that helps me to understand why I do what I do sometimes. And with this knowing comes awareness. So I'm working to overcome that as well.
One day at a time.
If you want to judge me, fine, judge me. But only if you can prove to me that you actually know what it's like to walk in my shoes.
M.E.M.
Never judge your neighbor until you've walked a mile in their shoes.
9033
You can't judge a book by its cover.
I have a secret. Many actually. A lifetime of secrets.
And one day in high school in a creative writing class I decided to write a book about my life. I had a story to tell. At least at that point of time I believed I did.
It's been said, be careful what you wish for because you just might get it. A lot of truth there, I can tell you. At the time I knew I had a powerful story to share. Little did I know then, what I had experienced in the first seventeen years of my life would be just the beginning. What lied ahead, waiting for me around the corner were moments that, as I sit here now I find my whole body shaking and tears welling in my eyes with just the simple thought. Memories. You just never know.
My eyes have seen things I can't unsee. My heart has felt heartbreak so overwhelmingly profound I wondered if life was worth living. My ears have heard words filled with hatred so deep that just one tone of voice can paralyze me. And my body has felt pain so intense it literally shut down to spare me from the intensity.
But through it all I found my saving grace. The human spirit. Mine.
Lessons learned.
I am a love child of the late 1950s. My parents never married and went their separate ways before I turned two. I am an adult survivor of horrific child abuse at the hands of an evil monster named Beulah. My mother trusted her, but Beulah regularly stripped me of my clothing and beat me with the buckle end of a belt until I blacked out from the pain. At night she filled my bladder with water before putting me to bed. And then beat me if I got out of bed to use the bathroom. For no reason. I'll never know why. But once the abuse was discovered mom stepped in and stopped it. Shortly after that I took my first plane ride at the age of three from Los Angeles to Portland, Oregon, alone. Jealousy and a lie became the wedge placed between my father and I which resulted in his complete removal from my life. I was raised by an alcoholic step-father, a man I both loved and feared. Placed in the role of father to an instant family he tried but I believe he was unprepared for life as an adult. So he turned to alcohol. More than once I witnessed him beat my mother after drinking heavily. Abuse. Separation. Abandonment. Violence. Alcoholism. Dysfunction. My life encapsulated all these experiences before I reached my thirteenth year on this planet.
They fought constantly, until she had enough and moved me and my two younger sisters from Los Angeles back to her home town of Clarkston. But this time she was unprepared for what lied ahead. Through the eyes of a teenager I watched with delight as mom found the love of her life in another man. It was short lived. Three years into their relationship he disappeared unexpectedly and mom desperately searched for him. And through those same eyes I watched my mother fall to pieces when it all finally got to her and she suffered a nervous breakdown. Our roles reversed as I bathed her, dressed her and fed her until she regained her mental capacity. Then a year later came the phone call. They found him. Hanging from a tree outside Portland, Oregon. And from that moment my mother lost all hope. Helpless against the tides of change I watched her slowly spiral out of control. We fought constantly and she turned to prescription drugs to ease the pain. I turned to illegal drugs to numb the pain. Life went from bad to worse. She kicked me out of the house, then would beg me to come back, over and over and over again. It became a vicious cycle. Divorce. Mental breakdown. Suicide. Substance abuse. More dysfunction. My life unfolded all these experiences before I reached my twenty-first year on this planet.
And then shortly after my twenty-first birthday, and mom's forty-first, she unexpectedly died.
People can and do die from a broken heart. I know it happens. Unable to replenish her supply from the well of life, her spirit just ran out and she felt defeated. So she gave up.
I won't give up. I refuse to. Over the course of my life, yes, I had those thoughts. But I pushed them aside with a resounding NO! Not me. I have not survived all I've been through just to end it all like that. No. Not this girl. When those thoughts used to come they were immediately followed by the knowledge that I wanted to meet the woman I am learning to become. I want to know who I will be. And I still do.
You see, I have a confession. I love to read. And at some point when I began to read a new book, I'd get about twenty pages into it before I'd want to know how it would end. So I'd find the last page and read the last paragraph just to be sure it wasn't one of those stories with a bad ending, you know.
Upon hearing about my early child abuse, a good friend commented that her life was boring. That nothing ever happened to her. I had to laugh. Be thankful. If you've had a good life where laughter outweighed tears, ask yourself if you would rather trade places with me. I mean, really, would you want to? Just because you didn't experience sweeping highs and crashing lows doesn't mean you haven't lived. I'm thankful for your life because it helps to balance out mine. If not for those of you who had happy childhoods and a relatively easy life I might not have found the balance I needed to carry on. Because through it all someone was always there in my life whose eyes hadn't seen what I've seen. They bring a different perspective to life.
My eyes have seen things I can't unsee, and because of that I learned to find the beauty in everything. My heart has felt heartbreak so overwhelmingly profound I wondered if life was worth living, and because of that I learned the value of empathy. My ears have heard words filled with hatred so deep that just one tone of voice can paralyze me, and because of that I learned to dance to the music of harmony. And my body has felt pain so intense it literally shut down to spare me from the intensity, and because of that I learned coping skills that helped to compel me forward in difficult situations.
Lessons learned.
If I could have one wish, it would be that someday the memories of my early childhood will no longer hurt. That the day will come when I can remember what Beulah did to me without the pain and the tears. And then I will be free.
I don't like using labels on people, but sometimes it helps us understand. And I recently learned many adult survivors deal with something called attachment [edit: corrected to change detachment to attachment] disorder. Knowing that helps me to understand why I do what I do sometimes. And with this knowing comes awareness. So I'm working to overcome that as well.
One day at a time.
If you want to judge me, fine, judge me. But only if you can prove to me that you actually know what it's like to walk in my shoes.
M.E.M.
Never judge your neighbor until you've walked a mile in their shoes.
9033
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