10 out of 10 psychiatrists over the years agree on little(not really 10 of them... but not much few-I just thought that one was funny). they agree I am not a harm to myself or
others, they agree I was abused, they agree I am over-weight(-_- because they need to point
that out "so badly"), that I have no dillusions, that I have been off of medications for a length of
time(ironically they can't agree on how long-they would if they opened their ears a bit), that I
been functioning for awhile, and that I have ptsd(not all of them agree on the rest ironically-
ears please open!), and finally... I talk lots. Wait rewind... they need to say that? OK... I suppose
might not shock them to know I talk in my sleep too. nothing short of physical issues could shut
me up. after all... I am quite "verbose". OMG! they needed to say it? this was NEWS?! I talk
when I get nervous... I don't like those offices. they make me highly uneasy and nervous, so they
are not seeing me normal. no surprise they also note I talk quickly... OK. sorry, I just find it funny
that, out of 2 years of records... that is about all they agree on.several agree that I am focused on my kids(others don't reference it), that I am "fine" with my appearance(why do they need to rate that?), oh yes, and a couple have me as a bit hard to figure out. the one that kinda ticks me off is when they can't agree on something as simple as married or not("boyfriend and 2 kids"???????? we were married long before that eval and the one before it says clearly "husband", we got married when I was 7 months along with our youngest! *snorts* never said I was a saint so those who judge me on that please consider yourselves only reflecting your own selves in a negative light).. or they misquote(it may seem stupid but...) or instead of saying "meds or no", they blame it one me as the reason not given(they can't agree wreather or not I am willing... that is annoying, I don't even wanna be in the system, I am happy the way I am inside, trauma's of the past and all-I have noticed and fixed my issues with abuse-I have no desire to repeat the past again-so no abuse is acceptable because it escalates-wanna ask me what abuse is as well? I can tell you that too-let me clear this up, if I needed them I would take them, the problem is I don't- I don't even get mood swings or anything they use meds for and medications have been detriment in the past- as it stands, let me state this "I would rather re live every rape and every terrible deed I have ever seen/been through and then have my internal organs spooned out with my conscious and no medication given, then go through the hell medications put me through"-yet for my children I will face this hell, want a list of the things they did to me? it is inhuman to force this on anyone telling them they have a choice but still taking that choice from them with your own words), the most annoying part on the last one is when they use the ultimate cop out. "need more time with pt to decide", bullshit. that last one had an hour and a half. if you can't decide after an hour and a half... your looking for problems that don't exist or simply "passing the buck". some of them are incompetents who say they refuse to say without looking at my records. basically, they won't decide for themselves. recently they also decided(with no medical proof-in fact my medical records say otherwise) that I am diabetic. with all due respect... having a family history of it, doesn't make me have it. If I wasn't trapped in my current sitchuations(and I find it kinda funny years of records now "don't exist" even though I can prove I went their to the site most of these come from-since long before I was 18), I would be using that "voluntary" status to get the "hell outta dodge" if you will. I have bad experiences, OK, so I have had counseling... and some people even judge me by my music... oh shove it. that is what I say to them. if I judged half of the people who I meet, by their music... *refuses to continue that line of though*. In day to day life I am sick and tired of dealing with the ill informed who just hear a diagnosis and go all weird on me. I will clear this up, my diagnosis means I was traumatized. I look at life much differently than others. It can end at any moment... so live with as few regrets as possible. when I get up in the morning I think "what would I regret if I didn't do it today?"
To be perfectly honest, I knew it was abuse. I knew my husband was doing wrong. I stayed for my children. when it escalated, I saw something I never realized before. you see, I was raised to put up with abuse. I lived as the target. without my own self awareness excersizes... I could have ended up the beaten girl for the rest of my life... because I was brought up to accept it. I don't do such anymore because my strength is my children. whatever effects me, effects them. even if they never know about it, they will. it will progress to reach them too. The reality of that hit me when I got between my husband and my son. It was the first time and the last.
I was brought up in an environment where my own suffering was the way to prevent others from suffering in my stead. As an adult I have a power that I didn't have as a child. A child is stuck, they can't leave. An adult can... even if they don't think they can. I left for my kids, and in my current situation (not before mind you) I have faced moments of weakness... where I doubted myself. yet I have somehow managed... I wouldn't have been able to without those who offer a support from the ways they can. No monetary support mind you... but... I must confess... while it isn't always "enough"... it keeps me holding on even when everything seems I am just waiting for the next thing to go wrong... "what next"?
My next entry is half done... but I write with my heart.
This needed to be said.
and because I value honesty....
Here is what I have about food sensitivity therapy... then I gotta go do homework.
it is kinda weird but information on it isn't so common but for the aspects of it. I originally got it from a book called "the natural physician's healing therapies-proven remedies that medical doctors don't know about"(by Mark Stengler, N.D. -the natural healing physician TM forward by James F Balch, M.D.) on page 193.
The writer also references early on that "food sensitivity" and food allergies are often misconstrued in the reference of what they refer to. They reference two things that are much different.
This web site is relatively good in it's information on it... though the book is better, even kinda tells you HOW to do it on your own. It really doesn't take much in the way of anything but self awareness. this site seems more wanting you to go get tested with some weirdo and basically pay them money. no offense but I prefer to just pay attention to my own body.
another kind disappointing site...
let me bluntly explain in a very simple manner what "food sensitivity" is.
It is simply thus, everything you eat or drink effects your body and gains some form of reaction from you. many of us have something we have built up a tolerance for over the years but our bodies would reject without this built up tolerance and therefore it takes more to process it(an allergy I have is lactose-I also have a straight allergy to milk... so even though I cheat on cheese and milk products- I can't on milk itself-anyway to the point...). I can eat cheese and whatnot in moderation. now this one is one that wasn't suppressed with tolerance being built up. I wasn't able to eat foliage as a kid. for food sensitivity therapy, you cut off everything you know is a tolerance built up and start form their, pay attention to how things effect you(for instance pocky makes me so hyper it is avoided... accept maybe once or twice a year tops). now for me, completely cutting out dairy is kinda not an option. I can't have SOY milk(haven't tried much else-it is gross anyway) either!
anyway, with food sensitivity therapy, you pay very close attention to everything that you eat and if you need to ask others to help you see it, then ask. for instance, carrots(raw) effect my energy level in a very weird way... but cooked is different and actually makes me sleepy. coke a cola gives me migraines and makes me kinda "moody" but Pepsi doesn't give me a head ache... but it mellows me out a bit(naturally energetic). with food sensitivity therapy, everything you consume matters. I can even tell you, when I eat more meat(something I don't like to eat but it is pretty much the only thing I didn't have to build a tolerance to-I tried to go vegetarian once and about killed myself-no matter how much i combined foods to make "whole" proteins my body refused to be placated, I have to eat meat or I get deficient and can't produce the correct things for it to work-yeah... I tried everything on that level-good thing I don't mind chicken as much... or fish, and my kids love that stuff too! we eat lots of veggie's-fruits not as much, they get bad diaper rashes). anyway, meat means weight gain for me, while bread and starches go straight through me. those give me more short term energy instead of the building blocks the meat does. I lose weight eating more bread. for this reason, I use it for this too... but not like others would. it isn't a diet... I just slip a bit more in here and there while eating small portions, excersizing regularly, and otherwise keeping up good nutrition.
the point being... these are examples. every person is vastly different. I suspect this is why their is so little information. I had only found those web sites so far. then again, I have been too busy to look overly much.
http://www.amazon.com/Natural-Physicians-Healing-Therapies-REMEDIES/dp/0887234348/ref=pd_vtp_b_3/175-4285353-9803911 just to prove the book referenced exists, and you can even take a look at the description and whatnot. the one who wrote it is quite praised. apparently besides practicing, he also teaches at yale university... wow.
anyway, my point is, what he writes makes it very easy to use all on your own.
most sites seem to be trying to cash in... to be honest, my mom used to teach me remedies and about a month before she died we were coming up with "ideas" for names for a apothecary... even then I preferred to call it a "natural remedies store". ................ the name we chose... you know, mama was still working out the "how" but we had designed much of it together. it may seem a shocker but I still remember it and how it was supposed to be... along with all of the wild ideas we had that were thrown out but also not... mom was a good artist too. she was going to paint them instead... all over the walls. she was much better than me... especially drawing her horses. I love wolves... but my mama loved horses more than anything. kinda makes me partial to them. she used to say "because they seem to be so free they are flying"... that was the same reason when I was very little I wanted to be a ballet dancer. I will never be such now. my tendons are not made for such and my structure is wrong for it... but I still dance anyway. never stopped me... just not ballet.
It is funny... when I was little, I had many dreams and I still have most of them. they just kinda evolved with my age. in high school I was ashamed to tell them I didn't have some huge dream to be the first female president or anything... I just wanted to get married and have kids, and be a mom. that was my dream... by big dream in life was to be a stay at home mom. now that won't be possible, but... my dream evolved the first time I held my boys. I was hesitant to go for that old dream afraid it wasn't mine... but it is. I loved the moon ever since I before I could walk. like my oldest starred at this tree for no apparent reason(we have videos of it too-ironically he has a birth mark that resembles a leaf on one of his arms), well mine was the moon. their was no logical reason for it... so I also prefer silver to gold. my mother loved the sun and preferred gold, we were as different as night and day... and my brother wanted the stars too so... we had still been between "Sun and Moon Apothecary" and "Sun, Moon, and Stars Apothecary"
Personally, I like the second one. I kinda chose the first one just cuz mama liked it... though I secretly agreed with my brother. the other one sounded much better(my love of the night-time had "absolutely nothing" to do with it!... actually saying that would be a lie)
I still have this dream. Mama was very well versed in remedies as am I... and someday I will have this place with all the things necessary to achieve such. I dance regardless of what others think or say... all in the privacy of my own dwelling... and singing was never int hat because it is like breathing for me... as a part of me as the flesh on my skin. singing is... my souls air... for lack of better words, basically whatever I do, I sing.
I am wishing to become a forensic artist... though I admit... it is the melancholy and the obligations I feel inside that chose this path... the wish to make others happy. if I chose what makes me happy... I would have chosen animation as part of my road in life. Both things make me happy... in a way. One brings peace to my soul with the guilt of having not been able to do anything to help those I saw die or hurt... an inner peace from paying attention to that wish... like somehow I might be helping someone else avoid such hurt. To this day, everything I was unable to do in the past... weighs on my heart. I must remember them as they died, because that was the very last time i saw them... some even begged. I want to help stop that... but I can't be a police officer... because I can't bare to hold a gun. a gun killed my papa. My papa was a talented martial artist, an honorable man who never said a harmful word that I ever knew... he carried me on his shoulders and let me just be a kid... I was his precious little girl. If it had been anything else... those people were civilians. My papa was a navy seal! He could have taken them easily and walked away... but when he told me to run I had never heard him speak like that before. I was 3. I was confused. "papa what is happening?" he told me to run... I didn't, I didn't understand. my papa was warm and kind and soft of hand... everything about him was something I had never seen before and the things those people said were so confusing. he even tried "go get your mother!" nothing worked. I still hold the scars from that day. I didn't just not run, I tried to help and got snatched up. I was nearly stabbed through my heart but instead I got slashed, papa stopped them. my only crime in their eyes was being with him as a possible witness... and his daughter. My papa taught me more about how people should be that day... about strength. they snatched me up and made him watch. a gun was to my little head. when he was asked why he wouldn't look away... he told them he knew what looking away would do... he knew... I will forever wonder how he knew. He told them they were the filthy ones and it wasn't my fault, but if he looked away, it would show shame in me. My small body hurt, I felt like everything was wrong... but papa gave me strength. I was 3 years old! I didn't even really know what strength WAS! I bit the man when I got the chance and got thrown. they gave him one last choice as he once again told me to run. this time I couldn't run because my body wouldn't move. I was still confused and now I was scared. I was 3... the most I really understood was that the people were bad and caused pain... I didn't want papa to stand alone. My papa never made me stand alone. even at 3 years old... that was something I knew well how it felt. my mother didn't know what happened when she wasn't home and even when she was... my strength was accepted as strength instead of what it was... a little girl afraid to cry. Papa... just would wipe my eyes and hold me... he got down on my level... he was the strength in my little world, when he was their I still wanted to be like him... wanted to be strong like him... but I treasured the weakness I was allowed when papa was their. I was such a daddy's girl. That day... their would be no more piggy back rides, no more shoulder ups... no more papa their to catch me while i was climbing trees... no more papa teaching me how to fight like him(though I now realize that wasn't such a great thing to be teaching me... I wasn't even really walking well when he started that)... my love of martial arts is the love of a daughter for her father. That is something I love because it is a beloved thing I shared with my papa.
right or wrong to teach me so early(my own children won't be learning so early-too much responsibility)... that is why I want to learn more... I have been told I display a combination of styles. I have kept up practice fro a long time. just as then... ironic how it couldn't stop me from being raped... and because I lacked the will to hurt anyone... the abuse given me, was... my fault. I very well could have turned around and beaten up my grandmother or taken things into my own hands. with my husband my body had become weak. I actually did try to fight him off of me... 2 pregnancies in a row of not being able to bodily keep up with all the things I do... I blame myself.
This I say now. Next time, the person isn't getting close enough to trap me like that. next time my knee goes up and I will keep them off... but to be honest I hope it never happens again.
The moment my father died, I was standing behind him. Had I moved... I have no doubt that bullet would have hit me. He had ample warning to move.. but didn't', because I was behind him.
My father... the strongest man in the world(I thought so)... was dead. His skin was so cold... his eyes weren't the same... I watched them glass over with death... I cried and screamed... I almost died. they hadn't left yet and I don't even know how I got to be beside him... I guess I ran, I heard his last words... I tried to wake him up. to this day... I dont' even think I screamed that loud after 52 straight hours of painful labor(ended in an emergency c section) with no drugs... my papa.. seeing him die was... their is no explanation.
for me death had been explained as a forever sleep. you don't wake up and people cry sad.
I realized he wasn't just sleeping... even as my mind didn't understand... the pain in my heart... that part of me knew, papa wasn't going to come back and would never wake up.
you wanna know why he died? the last ultimatum they gave him was about religion. My father wasn't christian. they were. My father was shot and killed over religion. their is much more to this day that I have not said here... one day i will write it but... my fathers stories were the best, as were mama's(but he loved telling them more... though mama was good at it... nothing beat the fire in his eyes as he told a story) In honor of that... when i finally tell everything... it won't be all real. I will add things like the stories he used to tell me.
My dreams are many.
the day my father died is still very clear in my mind. while the pain has faded and I have let go of much... this is a big reason I wish to help catch criminals and find lost children... my father also used to speak of his fondness for making sure I was safe... I was his little firefly. he had many nicknames for me... I didn't like all of them but... he was my papa. All those years... I watched others dance with their dads knowing but unable to say a word, especially after mama died. my grandmother always swore he had run off, a deadbeat. my honorable father who was never anything but gentle with me... I had to live a lie with the pain of his death. he was a bright soul... my mother reminded me of the sun and my father of the moon. she was bright and shining, always so much a lighting up a room. type.. his light was softer to me... quieter. although to others that may seem odd. the moon is traditionally seen as more the woman and the sun more a man... but my parents were much different... I too think of a woman when i see the moon... but I also remember a memory of my father sitting with me under our favorite tree on that big rock... telling me a story with that shining look in his eyes and a soft look on his face... the day my father died was the first time I saw anything else on his face.
in retrospect... the day my father died... I didn't just learn about death. I often look back on it and lean many lessons. my father was like that just for me and mama... like the moon shines from the sun's light, he was like that just for mama... and then me. I must confess... I dealt with and accepted my mothers death long ago. My fathers death... I have never found a reason in any analyzing in this life. My mother... I could nationalize that her constant choices would have gotten my brother killed and she suffered so much in life that it was her mercy form the hell she was born into... and learned to ignore, thus becoming a part of mine. My father... their was no such logic to grasp and still isn't. the lessons I learned from it... I can't help but feel they were not worth the price.
My mother could have avoided her own death... my father could not have.
although it happened long before any other death witnessed, including my mother... I must confess... I have never found such peace with his death, but... when I look into my children's eyes... I begin to understand and let go little by little.
My father would want me to follow my dreams and be happy. "Do what makes you happy. Tell your mother I love you." why else would those have been his last words? I never understood those words... the weight of meaning... not until I had children of my own.
their happiness is my happiness. when they cry, I must stop myself from joining them... their pain is mine... my greatest wish is for them to be healthy and happy and grow to be honorable young men... but to stay innocent kids while they can... just being kids, the concept is too much for languages either written or spoken.
but I understand now. I was a kid... in my world i wasn't happy with him gone... but something happened even after. I know if given the choice I would choose to stay here with them... even with mama, papa, and my very own twin sister waiting for me on the other side... even if papa begged me to stay with them... no matter how much I wanted to stay... my heart is anchored with my children here. to leave them, knowing the pain I went through over my own parents... to know the incompleteness and the sorrow from watching other kids be with their parents while your family is so gone... I will stay for them... for their happiness.... because though they are young yet... my heart needs to know they are safe, needs to see them be such... I need to live. it is tough to explain in words... but I suppose such understanding... isn't meant to be such.
I spent a lifetime figuring out what those words meant without even truly realizing I was wondering.
Now... I live the rest of my life living by those words... because now I understand. their happiness is mine, my happiness is being their mother and following my own dreams while making sure they have whatever they need to follow their own dreams... despite the past, my dreams... everything that makes me, me.
funny how much your parents say... that you don't understand till so much later in life. so much that still is remembered. though our times were short... I will treasure every moment.
I will get that degree, I will help catch those criminals(though I can only use my art), I will get formal martial arts training in a dojo(not that he wasn't good but I wasn't exactly told what I was learning-I was too young- time to start again), I will excel in all that I do... regardless of obstacle, I will one day get that apothecary and name it for that dream shared among the warmth of family, and you know... I will be the best damn mom I can be while doing it. I am going to have to get a job though... last time I was checking daily and cracked my head open... *shakes head* figures. I could barely even walk straight... I was afraid I would end up in the street... regardless of obstacle... I will because I must. when mama was having trouble getting the stuff for our place... "failure is not an option, only a fear"... lately I have been saying that a lot... I believe it too. when facing your dreams... something you truly wish for... the ultimate unavoidable truth is success because when it is your dreams... you will keep going no matter what.
I know I wrote much more than I meant to... I write from my heart and kinda... almost forgot I was writing at all, I was just remembering and letting it flow. this is how I write... this post is essentially... a peek inside my heart.
these are my hopes, my dreams, things I know, things I dont... but all of it is purely me.
I am happy being me... content with myself... at peace with my own soul... I must confess. It was my grandmother who wanted me changed and wanted me to have problems beyond myself. regardless of my once wish to make her happy... I have grown to understand the words once spoken by those who did their best to show with actions the meaning... but only once I had my own little ones did I truly understand.
I am who I am. the past is what has happened in the past. the present is a gift no matter how much it isn't always what you wanted to get. the future is where everything you haven't done or gotten yet... where your dreams... where everything can shine. the future is a light to embrace with both arms... my future is my children. My dreams... my dreams are how I will show them dreams can come true, how they can someday make their own dreams come true... this is...what I believe.
blessings to those in all walks and all places in the cycle of life- may you find your own way in life-whoever may read this and even those who don't. ^-^