This Puzzled Life is a mental health and recovery blog exploring addiction, trauma healing, LGBTQ experiences, humor, and the strange moments that shape us.
The following is a situation that led to Coco growling for the first time ever. She wanted to let her inner mountain lion loose. But all she was able to do was squeak like a mouse. Tink also tried and was only able to connect with a very light meow. “We just don’t feel safe with them as protectors.”
They didn’t even try to save me from one tiny moth. The best that either of them could do was look at it. No warning, no gang signs, no saying “You need Jesus!!! Nothing!!!!!”
Ok that was harsh but not really. It was my fault for zooming in on the picture and making it look like a dinosaur from Jurassic Park.
(We don’t know that cat.)
When it was actually the size of a quarter. Or maybe a dime depending on the angle. And we are assuming that the lizard was female because none of us saw lizard balls. And we don’t actually know if lizards have balls. But if they do we don’t know where they are kept. Maybe at an alternate address. We took a vote and named her “Lizzie the Lezzie.” Not to be confused with the real “Lizzy the Lezzie.”
I looked up after about an hour of scurrying to find Coco and Tink with bewildered looks on their faces and pawing at the lifeless reptile. Coco said, “Momma!!!!! We need to change the batteries out.” I had to explain to her that this was not a situation that batteries could fix.” Coco was very upset that Lizzie was dead. She was crying and saying, “Momma, I didn’t want to unalive her. I was just playing with her.” I told her, “Baby I know. You just played with her to death.”
We later found out that males are the ones that flash that piece of pink skin. That was like puffing out their chest. And we thought the whole time that the lizard was blowing bubbles because she was chewing watermelon bubble gum.
We are all in therapy and trying to work things out. Coco and Tink got some tutoring sessions in aggression and have progressed to a light hiss and a paw in the air and learning how to call a bluff. One night they alerted me to a possible intruder. It was a 2” moth holding a shank. And a pregnant gnat with an attitude. I told Coco, “get to it sister, this one is yours.”
The last time I saw them Tink had moved onto other things. And Coco was still grieving and processing the trauma. She is working with a therapist that really knows her stuff. And her therapist doesn’t allow Coco to deflect the painful issues. She will, however, guide her through it with a crappy little nudge from a therapeutic assignment.
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today I want to tell you about a situation that involved Tink and Coco. They both have dreams of being big cats one day. I don’t have the heart to challenge their realities. So, I just let them dream away. On this particular day I let them express just that. Check this out!
I woke up one morning with the familiar feeling of a fat cat running back and forth across me. This usually Coco’s meaning of “Momma get up!” I sit up and take a few minutes to gather myself for yet another day. Tinkerbell is gently licking my toes. I then feel pain and start sweating. I ask her. “Tink! What are you doing?!” “Momma, I licked your toes so clean and then I wanted to chew on them.” “Listen here! Don’t you ever use your back teeth to lick my feet!” I stand up limping towards their food bowls.
Tink: “Yippee she’s going to feed us! Momma, I want a gazelle to eat like the big cats on Netflix.
Me: “Have you and coco been watching National Geographic shows?”
Tink: “Yes ma’am. We could eat it just like they do.”
Me: “Tink there is nothing about you or coco that could take down a gazelle. Except maybe the fumes coming from your litter box. How would you get one to here at our house?”
Tink: “Momma DoorDash….duh.”
Me: “I’m quite sure they don’t deliver life size gazelles. What would you do if you got one? Lick its toes, run across it and throw paws with its hair? Ya’ll don’t even stalk anything but brown leaves, bugs and each other. “
Wanting to prove that she is like a big cat, I soon see Tinkerbell crouch down and ready to pounce at any moment. I couldn’t see what the target was, but I just watched curiously.
Tink: “Watch me catch my prey!”
She shakes her butt a little and then off she goes trying to be the big cat of her dreams. She lands on her target and quickly jumps back off it. When I finally see what she found She asks me
Tink: “Momma, what do you think? I killed my prey!”
Me: “Yes, Tinkerbell did kill it. The ice cube is dead.”
I know that this one was lighthearted. And to be honest, I need to remind myself every now and then about the comical simplicity of life. They help me so much, in fact, that I want to share them with as many who want to enjoy some of their funny comforts. My animals have always been the compassion in life that I couldn’t seem to find at one time. And the relationship that I have with them is so much fun. I hope that you can enjoy some of what I love about my girls, Tink and Coco. Thanks for reading!
Affirmation of cats: There is no one in the world that I would rather be.
“If mugs made fart noises coffee shops wouldn’t be relaxing, they’d sound like a yoga class in a retirement home.”
-Desi Lydic
Me and my cats have a nightly routine that consists of me taking my meds while Tink is at my feet watching my every move. And stares at me hoping to make me hurry along. I then Get comfortable in my recliner and cover up with my favorite blanket. Then Tink hops in my lap where we both cuddle until we’re both asleep. Except on nights when I’m scrapbooking. And then both of the girls fall asleep wherever they are. Usually, Coco is in her bed and Tink is in my recliner on my blankets. Anyway, here’s how one of our nights unfolded.
Me: “Tink wake up.”
Tink: “Mi no Habla ingles.”
Me: “Well, Rosetta Stone you better find a way to talk to me.”
Tink: “I’m sleeping.”
Me: “No you’re not you just spoke to me.”
Tink: “I talk in my sleep.”
Me: “Wake up or I will get the thermometer and check to see if you have a fever.”
Tink: “I’m up. What do you need?”
Me: “Tink, hold on omg was that you?! You are nasty!! You farted!!!! Tink, that one is really bad. You know I can’t take bad smells. Dear God, what did you eat?! Oh, Holy Hell it’s burning my eyes too. What are your farts made of? Napalm?”
Tink: “Your big baby stop your whining it’s just your allergies. And you woke me up from my sleep and I didn’t have the energy to hold it in.”
Me: “I know. I’m allergic to cat farts. I can’t take crop dusting any better than this. Omg now I taste it! I started gagging. I had a sudden flashback to diaper days. You and your brother Copeland are the worst smelling animals on this planet! Wait until I tell him how nasty you are.”
Tink: “Fine tell him. He’s the one who taught me how to fart!”
Me: “You need to be bathed in a tub of Holy water because you have a demon in your butt. Dear God get out of my lap and off my blanket!! You probably cinged the fibers. Oh, I just threw up a little in my mouth. Find my airplane vomit bag NOW!!!!”
Tink: “Fine me and Copeland will go live with coach.”
Me: “Ummmm….I wouldn’t dare do that to her!!”
Tink: “She would, at least let me process my feelings about it.”
Sarcastically
Me: “So what are your feelings?”
Tink: “I feel that I’m a flatulent genius.”
Me: “No! Nope, nope, nope! Not even funny, Tink. Why would you want to subject coach to your farts? I thought you liked her.”
Tink: “Well you share everything with her so I thought that I would share everything too.”
Me: “Tink, I do not talk to her about farting!”
Tink: “You talk to her about being constituted.”
Me: “That’s constipated. And I told her that I almost died. It was a traumatic event.”
Tink: “Really?! There was no need to let her in on that part of your life. She likes me more than she likes you, anyway. I don’t understand why you’re being so dramatic.”
Me: “Tink I almost lost my life! I was in the middle of hostage negotiations with my poop chute, and I saw the grim reaper! The whole event scared me to death. And I will not compete for our coach with a cat! You know that she’ll call the police to come and do welfare check on me. And then I’d have to go to the ER and deal with idiots.”
Tink: “It was just a little poop ghost. The poop fan is on.”
Me: “There is nothing about that fart that is little. And no that’s our living room fan and all it does is swirl that weapon of ass destruction all over the house. And it sticks to everything. The whole house smells like I’ve been cooking with dookie tonight!”
Tink is now overcome with laughter.
Me: “A poop fan takes it out of the house. And you can tell your “ghost” that it needs a tic tac or an altoid because it has some crappy dragon breath. Plus, the police officers would arrest you for endangering the life of a vulnerable adult.”
Tink: “Well, I’ve been watching Cops, and I know when I’m supposed to start running. I refuse to be put in handcuffs!!”
Me: “They wouldn’t use handcuffs. They would bring Animal Control and use a rabies pole.”
Tink: “Outta my way momma that’s my cue to start running!”
Ever since then I have been thinking of a way to conduct a “Shock and Awe” moment. I’ve been waiting for a good fart to get her back. So, one day I waited until she was in a deep sleep. I snuck up on her like I was in some type of special forces unit. Operation: “Methane Freebie” was almost over. I got into position close to my target and I Let Her Rip!!! She got vertical at that very moment. I couldn’t help but laugh. With her eyes wide open and her tail all fluffed out she said
Tink: “What in the “Holy Crap on a Cracker” what was that?”
Hysterical Laughter
Me: “I just spoke your “love language.”
Tink: “That was not love, Momma! Had you been a man I would’ve clawed you right in the pickle.”
Me: “Yes it was your “love language.” That was me blowing you a kiss.”
Tink: “I want a divorce!”
I hope you’ve enjoyed this lighthearted post. This was not fiction. My cats and I actually have conversations like this. Thanks for reading! And keep smiling!
Affirmation: If my cat’s flatulence is excessive, I will consult with a veterinarian to rule out any underlying medical conditions.
“Sometimes the goal is to just survive, and the memories are a bonus.”
-Unknown
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about the holidays and family. Don’t worry. It also gives me gas at the thought of the two, once again, colliding.
This should be a happy time for most of us. However, especially in our current political climate, I would venture to say that the thought of interacting with family members who stand on the opposite of the isle makes me want to step out into oncoming traffic. So, this year, I’ll be spending most of my holiday time with the only ones that seem trustworthy, my boys and my cats.
My cats could care less about what the current political environment is like. And they also don’t care whether I’m straight or gay. And unlike some of my family members, all they want to do is spend every waking hour with me. With all of my quirkiness, they just seem to keep scrolling as none of that matters to them.
My boys and I will spend time together during their school break. Activities include burning leaves and wood at the fire pit, roasting wieners and marshmallows, and cuddling in the cool night air while talking about the newest and most concerning issues of being a child. And I will, more than likely, be pummeled by nerf gun bullets sometime during their stay.
We never have enough money to do everything that we want to do. But what we do have is each other. They devour every bit of food available. And at the end of the day, they are my children, and I am their mom. The cats are their sisters. There is absolutely nothing that can compare to that.
By the end of their stay, the cats are tired of being nice and the boys are tired of being nice to each other. And I am, once again, interested in a little bit of quiet time. No matter how tired and irritated we can get, me and the boys experience the true meaning of family. And that’s what it’s all supposed to be about. Not judging someone for who they are versus who they are not. Thanks for reading! And enjoy your time with family in whatever way that takes shape.
Affirmation: I will approach this holiday with the same calm wisdom I use to navigate family debates over the thermostat.
“Grit your teeth and let it hurt. Don’t deny it. Don’t be overwhelmed by it. It will not last forever.”
-Harold Kushner
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Keeping in line with suicide awareness, I thought I would talk about a couple of groups that reflect awareness and prevention. There are so many groups out there that stay along these same lines. And I wish that I could spotlight them all.
To Write Love On Her Arms
This group is a nonprofit group dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury, and suicide. Jamie Tworkowski set out only to help a friend and to tell her story. When he met Renee Yohe, she was struggling with addiction, self-injury, and suicidal thoughts. He wrote about spending five days with her prior to her entering a treatment facility. And he began selling t-shirts to help fund her treatment by posting them on Myspace. Soon people from all over the world began contacting him and telling him about their struggles and heartbreaks. And in 2007, TWLOHA became an official organization.
Here are some numbers associated with their organization:
· 210,000 messages from individuals in over 100 countries.
· 3.8 million miles have been traveled to meet people in their communities.
It is an online community that began in 2013, when Amy Bleuel created it to honor her father, who died by suicide. The organization centers around mental health awareness and suicide prevention. The World Health Organization (WHO) reports a 25% increase in anxiety and depression during the first year of COVID-19. That combined with the nation’s political instability characterized by protectionism and unilateralism has led to strained international relations. And the stress funnels down to our families and personal stories.
The semicolon represents a continuance of life where a period could have easily ended the story. There have currently been over 89,000 assessments completed. 5,336 journal entries shared. And have provided direct support to 214 individuals. Semicolon badges in Apex Legends and Call of Duty has reached over 1.3 million gamers and additionally 50 new chapters. And 84% of Project Semicolon members report that the organization has saved with lives in times of crisis (www.projectsemicolon.com, 2025).
Mission Statement
Our mission is to empower individuals with mental health experiences to embrace their journey and recognize that their story is far from over.
I hope that you can take something from this information. Please take what you can use and leave the rest. And please pass along the information to someone who can benefit. Even if that someone is you. Keep smiling! And do not be afraid to reach out for help.
Affirmation: There are other ways to end my pain, even if I cannot see them right now.
“Our country is grappling with a youth mental health crisis, and it is particularly pronounced for LGBTQ+ youth.”
-Ronita Nath
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away. Today, keeping in line with the topic of suicide, I want to discuss suicide in the LGBTQ+ community.
The prevalence of suicide in the LGBTQ+ community is nothing new. The risk for suicide attempts and suicidal ideation can be 3 to 6 times greater for lesbian, gay and bisexual adults according to the National Institutes of Health. But there are also other statistics to keep in mind.
In 2024, 39% of LGBTQ+ youth considered attempting suicide according to The Trevor Project’s national survey. 1 in 10 of LGBTQ+ youth attempted suicide in the past year. And LGBTQ+ youth are more than four times likely to attempt compared to heterosexual youth. I can tell you that personally, I’ve been suicidal many times because of rejection from my family as a lesbian woman.
Transgender and Nonbinary identified individuals are at an even higher rate of suicide. And almost half seriously considered suicide in the past year. In 2022, 80% of transgender people had considered suicide and 40% had attempted. These statistics while staggering are not surprising. These demographic struggles are way more than they should be with little compassion from society.
Bisexual identified individuals are 1.5 times more likely to report thoughts and attempts compared to gay and lesbian individuals. And 2.98 times more likely to have a suicide-related event compared to heterosexuals according to a 2022 study. And the LGBTQ+ youth of color report higher rates of suicidal ideation and attempts compared to white peers (www.therevorproject.org, 2025). And there are several contributing factors such as:
· Discrimination and Prejudice:discrimination, harassment and violence due to sexual orientation or gender identity increases the risk of suicide.
· Lack of Support Systems: Limited social support from family, peers and community exacerbates the mental health challenges.
· Mental Health Disparities: LGBTQ+ individuals are more likely to experience depression and may face barriers to accessing mental health services (https://mhanational.org, 2025).
For someone who is a member of the LGBTQ+ community, I can tell you that I’ve considered suicide many times. The rejection from family and friends are sometimes more than I can bare. And having worked with someone in therapy many years ago, who was not sensitive to the needs of someone in these communities, there was little progress made. Mainly, because I couldn’t trust her. And she was extremely judgmental.
Since collaborating with coach for almost a decade, I can tell you that I have been able to fully accept the fact that I’m gay, despite my family’s disapproval. And then the religious communities also seem to greet us with bible verses telling how many ways we are going to hell. We all know that “choosing” to be gay is such an easier way of life. There the secret is out.
With the current political administration taking away the rights and freedoms that the Stonewall riots stood against, and the lack of funding for suicide hotlines for LGBTQ+ youth, these rates will only climb. Our families, friends, churches, and government should be ashamed of standing by people who are ok with the policies set in place. We are the same as we ever were. We just wear rainbows now.
There are those beautiful allies out there who remain the strength and backbone of our continual fight for equality. We are youth, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, husband, and wives who just want to be recognized as equals in the eyes of the law. But where reputations and political agendas are from the far right, we must be even more solidified as a community. If someone is for rights with some and not others, I have no room for them in my life. But it’s taken me years to come to this conclusion.
Is it lonely? At times, yes. However, I want people in my life who not only support me but also my friends. The suicide hotline is something that our community not only wants but needs. Many of us have non-supporting families and mine is no different. But I do have a place to live currently. But that does not constitute me putting up with homophobia or fragile masculinity and femininity.
The very few “true” friends I have, understand that being gay is not a “choice.” It’s who I am. And if that’s too much for someone to manage, that’s just too damn bad. To my fellow allies and community members, keep up the good fight. We must take up the original Pride flag are carry on. I love our colors. And I’m proud to call myself a member of the LGBTQ+ community.
Keep smiling. Keep shining. Knowing you can always count on me, for sure. That’s what friends are for. We are seen. And we are heard. And….WE ARE FABULOUS! Thanks for reading. Take what you can use and leave the rest.
Affirmation: I am proud of myself and will continue to strive to do well.
“The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.”
-Douglas McArthur
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negativity energy, go away. Today, I want to discuss veteran suicide. I know that this topic has seemed to get old and fast. However, I believe that the more we talk about the harshness of life, the more the stigmas will begin to disappear.
In 2022, the most recent year for the current data, 6,407 veterans and 41,484 nonveteran adults died by suicide. The rate among veterans was 34.7 per 100,000 compared to 17.1 per 100,000 for nonveterans. Since 2005, veteran suicide has risen faster than any other group. And these rates are unacceptable.
The veterans who died by suicide in that year, 40% were under the care of the Veterans Health Administration. Among those patients, who were also diagnosed with a mental health disorder or substance abuse disorder, there were 56.4 per 100,000, which was twice the rate of those without a diagnosis. And among 1,548 veterans who died by suicide 64% were diagnosed with depression, 43% had an anxiety disorder, 40% had PTSD, and 32% had an alcohol use disorder. However, the highest suicide rates were associated with veterans who had sedative use disorder which include benzodiazepines, barbiturates, and opiates (www.rand.org, 2025). And the stigma about mental health in the military further increase this problem.
Aspects of Veteran Mental Health stigma:
· Fear of judgment and perception: Veterans worry about how seeking help will affect all areas of their lives and especially on career repercussions.
· Military culture: The “warrior ethos” which emphasizes self-reliance and stoicism create barriers to seeking help.
· Loss of security clearance: Some fear that seeking mental health treatment will lead to revocation of security clearances.
· Impact on treatment: stigmas can lead to untreated mental health conditions, substance abuse and increased risk of suicide.
· Self-stigma: Veterans may internalize negative societal views about mental health which can lead to shame, self-blame, and more reluctance to seek help (https://oxfordtreatment.com, 2025).
As an advocate for medical cannabis, I believe that our veterans should be given an ounce of cannabis the minute their feet hit US soil upon returning from active duty. As I personally deal with PTSD, there is not another medication on the planet that can bring me relief like cannabis can. And it’s such a safer alternative to alcohol, opiates, and benzodiazepine medications.
Currently, the Safe Healing Act, which was introduced on February 4, 2025, is designed to prohibit the Secretary of Veterans Affairs from denying a veteran benefit administered by the Secretary by reason of the veteran participating in a State-approved marijuana program and other purposes. But unfortunately, there is only a 3% chance of being enacted (www.govtrack.us, 2025). And I consider this utterly ridiculous. There is an unmistakable problem with veteran suicide. It appears Big Pharma is still in the way of progress. I wonder how many people who oppose this bill must suffer, daily, with the horrible effects of PTSD, anxiety, and chronic pain that “Big Pharma” can’t seem to help?
Our returning soldiers are faced with horrors that no one understands until they’ve been there. And though I have never served our country, I can tell you that the above-mentioned mental health disorders have also almost taken my life many times. The symptoms are horrific in nature. Put chronic pain in the mix and suicide often seems like the only answer to have a break, though it be permanent, for even a moment of peace.
Veterans, in my eyes, should be held to the utmost respect. They should be the highest paid employees before professional athletes. And we as a country should make sure that the best treatment is available to them for the rest of their lives. Some have paid the price of their lives on the battlefield. And a high percentage of others pay with their lives when they return home. But instead of treating them like the heroes like they are, they are often discarded by the government that they so proudly serve.
Is cannabis the only answer? Not at all. However, while they find the modality that works for them, I think that cannabis could lighten the load and make their futures seem a little brighter. Discarding them along with all the judgmental stigmas only adds to the problem. And until this is rectified, we will continue to lose those beautiful people who are willing, at any moment, to lay down their lives for our freedoms. Shame on the United States of America for treating them like that!
I know reading this is not easy. But we as a nation must stand up for these individuals who continue to pay the price every time, they open their eyes. Let’s get past the “reefer madness” ignorance and allow our veterans the opportunity to extend their lives at home. A special thanks and salute to one of my favorite veterans who I’ll call Joe. Thanks for reading! And God Bless America!
“This life. This night. Your story. Your hope. It matters. All of it matters.”
-Jamie Tworkowski
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Thank God, we have made it through most of the hottest months of the year. September is another sticky, humidity filled month before the beginning of the cool down. September is also Suicide Awareness and Prevention Month. I know, it’s another upbeat topic. I think that the topic of suicide shouldn’t be taboo. It’s an unfortunate dark part of nearly every culture. And, yes, it has also affected my life in many ways which I’ll share.
Suicide has always been referred to as “the easy way out,” “selfish action,” a “total disregard for friends and family,” and the most hurtful “a sin.” And it’s really easy for people to throw out opinions that help no one when they are struggling. That is minimizing their pain and abuse.
Having been not only a patient in the mental health system for the majority of my life, and working in the mental health field as a professional, I have also seen and been on most sides of this problem. People are so quick to judge what they don’t understand. And, sadly, suicide is a topic that tends to be discussed in judgment versus with compassion.
I have been chronically suicidal since I was a teenager. I was being abused and put on display for others to see for an entire year in school. I was also locked in a closet in that same room while being verbally abused in any way imaginable. I tried to tell adults about what was going on. However, I was made to feel like it was my fault. This helped the teacher to further perpetrate her abuse. My parents also made me apologize to her for comments that I made to her. But as their child, I was not protected by them or the administration. I was in a difficult situation without the possibility of brighter days ahead for the future.
My suicidal feelings got the best of me one day at school when I took forty aspirin. I had no idea, at that time, that it wouldn’t work. But the thought of continuing one more day at the hands and mouth of s purely evil woman was more than I could deal with. My parents were called and made aware. Nothing was ever done. I was never provided with any kind of help. Maybe it was the “standard” of the late 1980s. I was not given the emotional support to sort out my trauma.
What I did begin doing was self-harm. I had no idea what it all meant, at that time. But I knew that it made things better even if for just the moment. As I’ve stated about my family’s dysfunctional dynamics, I was told just to make it through the year and everything would be fine. It wasn’t. Yes, the abuse ended. But I was not fine.
By my freshman year in high school, I was “balls to the wall” in addiction. Addiction that presented itself in drugs, alcohol, eating disorders and self-harm. The strongest addiction being self-harm. And 35 years later, it continues.
The depression, anxiety and suicidal ideations never subsided as I was told. One day I finally told my mother that had I had access to a weapon, I was going to kill myself. Instead of offering help, of any kind, I was met with anger and told that I was being selfish. My thoughts were anything but selfish. I was hurting in ways that no one knew. And no one seemed to care. So, I suffered in silence for many years.
As a child/teenager when traumatic events occur, your mind goes directly to self-preservation. You do whatever you can to either tolerate the darkness or end the pain. Meanwhile, the trauma of life continued at a level that no one is capable of dealing with alone. My next real relationship was abuse that lasted 14 years. And again, I felt trapped.
If you don’t understand the concept of Pavlov’s dogs, then you don’t understand what it’s like to be held mentally captive while the world sees your situation with an easy out. And the sad part about it, is that they think that you deserve everything you get because you don’t just leave. My parents attributed all of the chaos of that relationship as being something that religion could fix. So, we got involved in church. If anything, the abuse got much worse because now his weapon was a Bible that he read and used as justification that I should be “submissive” to his every demands. Mentally, I was trapped again without any way out. And my self-harm was not about survival. It was about making the pain end.
I would reach a mental breaking point and would stand out in the front yard where we lived and pointed a gun at my chest and pulled the trigger. The strange part was that I seemed to be witnessing rather than taking an active role. I watched that whole event as a spectator. I don’t expect you to understand the power of dissociation. Most people, in fact, are very ignorant about it. Again, I was met with anger from my mother. She kept saying, “Hush! Hush! Do you want to go back to Pine Grove?” That is the local mental health facility. And at that moment all I needed was compassion. But again, I faced anger and judgment. I wasn’t trying to “take the easy way out” or be “selfish.” I just wanted the pain to end. And everyone seemed to lose sight of that reality but me.
The bullet went into my shoulder only a few inches from my heart. And even hospital staff treated me as though I was taking up space much better suited for someone else. Self-harm became a way of life for me. It’s been there when people should’ve been there. But self-harm doesn’t always mean “suicide attempt.” And this is a very sore subject among family members. But I sit as an outcast by my family who want nothing more than the family name to not be tainted by abnormality. They acknowledge that bad things happen. But they just want it to disappear and to quit bringing shame to the family name and instead just move on with life. But the biggest factor, is that they don’t want to be perceived as “parental failures.” It’s still all about the reputation of the family.
People that is not how trauma works. And saying, “We just didn’t know how to help you” is “shit”of an excuse. I was a child when it began. You were in the position to help protect your daughter and you didn’t. Remember, the part of the story where I said, “Just make it out of the 8th grade and everything will be better.” It’s 35 years later and it’s not better. It has crippled me as an adult. And has stolen my hopes and dreams. And I still deal with suicidal ideations on a daily basis. Those never went away either. So, I guess feeling like a “burden” to those who say that they love me but treat me as such will forever be the unhealthy narrative. I’ve asked them to do therapy to help with our relationship. But again, it’s of no importance. And the unspoken belief that I’m unworthy continues.
I wrote this blog to say this, “Quit making someone’s struggle with suicidal thoughts and actions be all about you. You are not helping anything. You only make it worse.” Simply say to them, “Your thoughts and beliefs are valid. Let’s find some compassionate help that will help you thrive. Throwing Bible verses in their face is not helpful. Telling them that they will go to hell is not helpful. They are already living in an emotional hell.
This is not rocket science! Just don’t be an asshole as a rule of thumb. I have been in the position of being the last one to talk to a person moments before they completed suicide. I can tell you this, “I’m not mad at that person. I don’t condemn their actions. I don’t say, “Well I guess they’re in hell now. How selfish of them.” I simply say, “I hate that they were in so much pain that nothing anyone said could break through the cloud of despair.”
Until you’ve been in that position, you have no idea how strong emotions and thoughts are. And if the person felt like they had exhausted all of their means of trying to end the pain in an acceptable fashion, then they see no other way out. Judgmental comments about, “well, they didn’t seek out every source of help” is you seeing in from your perspective only. If you can’t see it from their perspective, you’re one of the lucky ones. Thanks for reading! Take what you can use and leave the rest.
“Cat fact: Once you own a cat the probability that you bring up cats in conversation increases by 200%.”
-@mickeyandmort
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to share a short story that I wrote a few years ago. It involves my cat Tinkerbell. Sometimes you just have to take time out to thank the universe for giving things a second chance. This was one of those times.
One night I visited my parents who live no more than 60 ft from my house. I stayed over there for maybe an hour and came back home. My cats never miss a chance to greet me at the door like I’ve just returned from a 21-day furlough in Denton, TX. And they meow like they haven’t been fed the entire time. They do this because when I go to the store to pick up my groceries, I always bring back a snack for them. Therefore, every time I leave and come back that means that they have a new treat. (Yes, I have created this situation, and I hate myself for doing it.) but after ignoring their cat woes they will eventually settle down and find a place to sleep or breakout in an all-out sprinting and body slamming each other which is another little love language behavior. Not paying attention to anything but the movie, I look and see Coco beginning to settle down in her rocking chair. Tink was quiet and out of view. This means the same thing as it does for a toddler, trouble.
I get up and start looking for her. Then I heard what can make me sit straight up in the middle of the night, the sound of a cat vomiting. I flip the light on in the kitchen and realize that Tink has her back to me. The closer my hand gets, her growl lets me be aware that she is trying to hide something from me. Again, I can see that she’s chewing on something and gagging even more. I decided to go in even if I need a rabies shot soon after. I go in for the kill and stick my hand into the dark bracing myself for her angry bite. And I feel something that is not her and yank quickly. All I can do is shake my head. She was trying to swallow a rubber band. She darts out quickly. I angrily shout, “Dammit Tink you could’ve died!!!!” She scurries under the bed and out of sight. I take a deep breath knowing how lucky my sweet, crazy girl was in this situation. I clean the mess off the floor. I take another deep breath. And turn the light off. I look for her frantically to find her sound asleep on the bed and I whisper, “Thank you, Universe.”
Thanks for reading! Never forget to thank the universe for the little gifts that it blesses you with. Keep smiling!
Affirmation: I have the power to get in trouble for no good reason.
This Puzzled Life 