addiction

darnold1975

Ibogaine For Opioid Addiction?

“Ibogaine got me through the door. The rest was up to me.”

-Unknown

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about a plant that is said to help treat addiction. The name of the substance is called Ibogaine. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know much about this plant. But what I intend to do is to lay out the information and let you make the determination about what you think. 

First, we’ll look at its origins. Ibogaine is a West African shrub that grows in the Congo and Angola which is then separated from the root bark. The active ingredient in the plant is Tabernanthe iboga. Traditionally it has been used as a hallucinogen to suppress hunger and fatigue while also being used as  an aphrodisiac. Hold up! So, I’m going to be able to smell colors, sleep and get in the mood? And there’s a high likelihood that I might vomit? Count me in!

Purified ibogaine hydrochloride was first introduced to European consumers in 1939 under the name Lambarene. And it was sold in France until 1970 as an antidepressant that could improve mood, physical strength and used by athletes and others recovering from illness. In 1962 Howard Lotsof, a heroin addict, the experience with ibogaine was so transformative that he spent the rest of his life advocating for it as a cure for substance abuse. A Chilean psychiatrist Claudio Naranjo also advocated for ibogaine as a treatment which was described in his book in 1973 called The Healing Journey (Ibogaine Therapy Information- UC Berkeley BCSP, 2025).

Ibogaine is an alkaloid. The treatment with Ibogaine lasts around 12 to 24 hours. Keep in mind that the patient is in a hallucinogenic state. And though some consider it a “surgical” tool for addiction therapy it does have its medical risks (https://.randrmd.com, 2025). These include severe cardiotoxicity and neurological effects which have been associated with sudden death. Specifically, there are cardiac arrhythmias, hallucinations, seizures, nervous system depressant, bradycardia, hypotension, neurotoxicity, and negative psychological effects (https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0736467919305700#:~:text=Background,of%20ibogaine’s%20effects%20and%20safety). This treatment should always be done under medical supervision.

Not only is ibogaine used for opiate addiction, but also in the treatment of traumatic brain injury (TBI), PTSD, depression, and anxiety. Formal testing showed improvements in concentration, memory, information processing, and impulsivity(https://news.stanford.edu, 2024). Here are some statistics to keep in mind about this particular treatment. Studies in regard to Opiate Use Disorder from clinics primarily in Mexico and New Zealand indicate:

§  80% of participants report the elimination or reduction of opiate withdrawal symptoms.

§  50% of participants report no opioid use at 60 days post-treatment.

§   New Zealand study found that 50% of participants achieved one year of abstinence.

§  Another study reported that 30% of participants never used opioids again (Subjective effectiveness of ibogaine treatment for problematic opioid consumption: Short- and long-term outcomes and current psychological functioning in: Journal of Psychedelic Studies Volume 1 Issue 2 (2017).

§  An overall analysis reports that 81% were classified as “responders” which means that they never used opioids again or significantly decreased their use after treatment.

§  In comparison with traditional treatments of Suboxone, Methadone and other pharmacotherapy, abstinence rates were at 50% at one month and 33% after three months (https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC6157925/#:~:text=Abstract,additional%2011%25%20eventually%20achieved%20abstinence, 2018).

Currently in the United States, Ibogaine is a Scheduled 1 controlled substance. Which means that it has no acceptable medical uses and a high potential for abuse. It is against federal law to possess, sell, or use ibogaine for any purpose outside of a federally approved research setting. However, Texas has allocated $50 million to fund clinical trials for addiction and TBI. Kentucky and Washington have also explored funding. And, yes, there are several biotech companies that are developing non-hallucinogenic analogs that could potentially gain FDA approval in the future.

While this treatment is not currently approved in the United States, a lot of desperate addicts will pay between $5,000 and $15,000 in countries like Mexico, Costa Rica, Portugal, Netherlands, South Africa, Canada, New Zealand, Australia, Brazil, and Gabon. Costs also depend on length of treatment and particular amenities of the individual programs. I’m not completely sold on this form of treatment for addiction or anything else. That’s not to say that people don’t find their own relief through this type of treatment. However, at this point, I would personally like to see more safety considerations and advanced research regarding this method. As an addict myself, I understand that level of desperation to want the cycle of addiction to end. My personal opinion is that I want to keep an eye on future research once it moves out of its infancy in our country. Thanks for reading! And stay informed.

Affirmation: I am a survivor, and I will recover.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Domestic Violence Myths

“Leaving is so hard because your confidence is destroyed. You feel trapped.”

-Unknown

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about some common misconceptions about domestic violence. Sit tight. These myths and truths will help to dispel some of the things that you might have been told.

1.        Myth: Domestic abuse is a “family matter” and the community should not interfere.

Fact: Domestic abuse is against the law making it everyone’s business.

2.        Myth: Domestic abuse affects only a small percentage of the population.

Fact: One-third of American women report being physically or sexually abused by a partner.

3.        Myth: Only men abuse women.

Fact: Statistics show that 85% of domestic abuse victims are women and 95% of perpetrators are men. However, men are abused by women also. And the rate of  Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender communities are at the same rate as heterosexual relationships.

4.        Myth: Only low-income families and minorities experience domestic abuse.

Fact: Domestic abuse in every area of society. Most previously recorded statistics are skewed due to the numbers coming from public agencies, city hospitals, police departments, social service agencies, and the courts.

5.        Myth: Abusers are violent in all their relationships.

Fact: Most abusers are only abusive to a targeted intimate partner. Some abusers are successful in their professions and are very charming. And this is how they maintain power and control. This was how my ex-husband introduced himself. In front of people, he appealed to many. It was once we were not in front of people that the abuse occurred.

6.        Myth: Domestic abuse is caused by mental illness.

Fact: Personality disorders, mental illness, poor impulse control, and generational abuse do not cause domestic abuse. Even in cases where a particular mental illness may cause a person to be abusive, the abuse is not specifically targeted at one person but to everyone around during the episode.

7.        Myth: Domestic abuse is caused by drugs and alcohol use.

Fact: Where drugs and alcohol are often associated with domestic abuse, they do not cause the violence. My ex-husband never used drugs and alcohol. He was just mean and very controlling.

8.        Myth: Abusers are violent because they cannot control their anger and frustration.

Fact: Abusers use anger as an excuse to rationalize or blame their abusive behavior: anger is not a cause of abuse; it is a conscious choice made by them. I was always told that “I was the cause of his anger.” So, in some way, I was made responsible for his behavior. When in actuality, he is responsible for his own behavior.

9.        Myth: Therapy will stop the violence. If he/she goes to therapy, it will be safe at home.

Fact: Referral of a batter to is one of the strongest predictors that a victim will return to violence. However, research on the effectiveness of treatment  for batters are inconclusive. What is known is that there’s a 50% drop out rate in these programs by those who do enroll.

10.   Myth: Boys in violent homes will grow up to be battered and girls will be victims.

Fact: Not all children who grow up in homes where there is domestic abuse are directly abused or grow up to  become victims or abusers. It is important to note that children from homes where domestic violence abuse occurs are at greater risk for all of these outcomes than children from homes where  there is no violence.

11.   Myth: Even if he/she is violent, it is better for the children to have both parents. Children aren’t negatively affected by domestic abuse unless they are actually abused.

Fact: Witnessing violence as a child is associated with adult reports of depression, trauma-related symptoms and low self-esteem among women, and trauma-related symptoms among men. Child witnesses of domestic abuse on average exhibit more aggressive and antisocial behaviors, fearful and inhibited behaviors, anxiety, depression, trauma symptoms, temperament problems, and lower social competence, than children who do not witness such violence. Youth who witness domestic abuse are more likely to attempt suicide, abuse drugs, and alcohol, run away from home, commit other delinquent behavior, engage in teenage prostitution, and commit sexual assault crimes (https://law.arizona.edu/sites/default/files/myths_and_realities_of_domestic_abuse.pdf, 2003).

I hope that you’ve been able to put some of these myths to rest. From someone who has gone through domestic violence, my perpetrator never though that he was doing anything wrong. And when I presented the need for therapy I was told, “I don’t need to go to therapy because you are the problem.” When the actual problem was that he didn’t want to look at the reality of his own actions and behaviors. And he continues to be that way. Keep reading and stay safe!

Affirmation: I forgive myself for believing I have to stay in the relationship until the person changes.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Beware Of Deadly 7-0H Products

“It is dangerous, misleading, and illegal” and a “massive fraud on consumers that puts their safety directly at risk.”

–American Kratom Association

 Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about the deadly synthetic opioid products known as 7-OH (gas station heroin). You might think that these products are safe. But there is only one descriptive term for them…..DANGEROUS.

Let me break down the problems associated with these products. The product is so dangerous that the FDA  is specifically targeting the 7-OH products a concentrated byproduct of the kratom plant. They are not focused on the natural kratom leaf products. These products have a high potential for abuse because they bind to opioid receptors. They are not FDA-approved 7-OH opioid products. FDA Commissioner Marty Makary, M.D., M.P.H. is quoted saying, “7-OH is an opioid that can be more potent than morphine” (https://www.fda.gov, 2025).

What is 7-OH? –hydroymitragynine is a powerful opioid-like compound found in the leaves of the kratom plant. While this compound is naturally in trace amounts because manufacturers have begun to concentrate or synthesize it into highly potent and addictive products. They are sold at gas stations, vape shops and smoke shops. At this time, anyone of any age can purchase these products. And they are appealing to kids and teens because they are also made into edibles.

“It’s a recipe for a public health disaster.”

-Jim O’Neill, U.S. Department of

 Health and Human Services

·        Significantly stronger than morphine:Some synthetic products are reportedly 13 to 40 times more potent than morphine.

·        Intense opioid effects: these include pain relief, euphoria, and sedation.

·        High risk of dependence and addiction:Regular use can quickly lead to physical and psychological dependence with severe withdrawal symptoms when use is stopped.

·        Serious adverse effects: There have been a notable rise in emergency room visits with symptoms that include nausea, agitation, rapid heart rate, high blood pressure, seizures  and respiratory depression that can be fatal.

Difference between natural and concentrated 7-OH

·       Natural kratom: in the natural form as a plant leaf, kratom contains only a small amount of 7-OH (less than 2%). It is often used for its mild stimulant or opioid-like effects, but the risk profile is significantly different from highly concentrated products.

·       Concentrated/Synthetic 7-OH: lab created product where the 7-OH has been concentrated to a higher potency reaching 98%. These unregulated products are sold in forms like gummies, drinks, and tablets ((https://www.dshs.texas.gov, 2025).

I cannot express enough the dangerousness of these products. I, for one, fell in love with heroin and pills many years ago. And what a difficult process it has been to break free from those substances. Because “One is too many. And a thousand is never enough.” That’s how addiction works. Parents if you think that this is all a bunch of hoopla for nothing, you are dead wrong. This product scares me like most can’t. We have enough of an “opiate crisis” without introducing more into the family line. Educate yourself and your children. It just might save lives. Thanks for reading!

Affirmation: I have the ability to make a different choice.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

Featured darnold1975

Suicide Awareness And Prevention Groups

“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.

·       1,100+ blog posts and launched a podcast.

·       56,000 find help tool searches.

·       27,000 fulfilled merch orders

·       $3 million donated to treatment and recovery.

WE BELIEVE:

You were created to love and be loved.

People need other people.

Your story is important.

Better days are ahead.

Hope and help are real.

(www.twloha.com, 2025).

The Semicolon Project

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.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

Featured darnold1975

LGBTQ+ And Suicide

“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.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

Featured darnold1975

Veteran Suicide

“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!

Affirmation: Bring out your inner warrior

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Attack On Freedom

“The attacks of September 11th  were intended to break our spirit. Instead, we have emerged stronger and more unified. We feel renewed devotion to the principles of political, economic and religious freedom, the rule of law and respect for human life. We are more determined more than ever to live our lives in freedom.”

-Then-New York City Mayor Rudulph Giuliani

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. There’s no way if you have lived since September 11, 2001, that you don’t remember when our great nation was sneak attacked by Middle Eastern “thugs” under the direction of an evil man on a dialysis machine. It was an attack on freedom similar to the attack on Pearl Harbor.

I will never forget the day that 9/11 happened. I was working for a local veterinarian during a truly horrible time in my life. I was in a horribly, abusive marriage where I never got to experience true freedom. I was also in the depths of addiction that was slowly killing me. And he made sure that I was also controlled by an extremely painful eating disorder. I was essentially a mess in every area of my life. 

The vet’s office that I worked at had a small television that was usually put on a news channel for waiting clients. That particular day I was busy being miserable, high and working at top speed. The area that I worked in was the puppy and kitten adoption center that was always busy. I was busy cleaning cages and feeding those cute babies when I took time out to go look for something in the main waiting area. I walked in and one of the receptionists said, “Dana, look at what’s just happened.” I turned to look at the television screen at a picture that you only saw in movies. I saw an area of a building where an apparent plane had crashed into it. I said, “Do you really have time to watch a movie?” They quickly said, “No. A plane was hijacked and flew into one of the twin towers.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and seeing. I said, “Wait! What?! That doesn’t even make sense.” And for many months following the thought was the same.

Even now I still don’t completely understand how someone could hate Americans to that extent. I took a moment to reflect on everything that I had experienced in life. I looked around to realize that Americans have turned on her own people as evidenced by racism, sexism, homophobia, gender phobia, transphobia, abuse, domestic violence, drug addiction, gang violence, child abuse, mass shootings, school shootings, dangerous elected officials and many other things. But this was so different. It’s almost the attitude of “You can’t come up in our house and kick our ass! We kick our own ass!”

For a moment though, our stature as a “free nation” had been “sucker punched.” Suddenly, whether someone was poisoning our families with their “gayness” wasn’t a big issue. The disruption of cohesiveness within society based on whether someone was wearing a blue or red bandana came to a screeching halt. Hurricane Katrina wasn’t even a meteorological thought. We, as a nation, sat in stunned silence at the harshness of our new realities. Members of our beloved families were now gone. Now we didn’t care if the people in power were red, blue or orange. We just wanted those responsible to pay and pay dearly. We no longer had such different beliefs about life as a whole. And then, the second plane hit.

At this point, it was absolute pandemonium trying to find the source of the betrayal and eliminate it quickly. And then in exactly 1 hour and 24 minutes, heroes from our families did their part to save others from their certain demise by overtaking the cockpit of yet another hijacked plane with a mission of killing as many Americans as possible. That brave group of people who decided that enough was enough said this, “Are you out of your mind?! Who in the hell do you think you are? Let’s roll.”

The skyline of New York City would lose the twin towers as they collapsed from total annihilation. The damage had just been too great. The North Tower of the World Trade Center stood for another 102 minutes. The South Tower stood  approximately 56 minutes after the second impact. Almost immediately, rescue efforts to find survivors and/or bodies began and would continue for the next nine months.

By May 2002, the World Trade Center site had been cleared. The rescue and recovery efforts consisted of more than 108,000 truckloads of debris and 1.8 million tons of wreckage that were removed along with many other people who were never found (redcross.org). On September 11, 2001, the terrorist attacks on the United States of America killed 2,977 people including hijackers. And of these, 3,000 children lost a parent (nymag.com, 2014).

 Lady Liberty at the direction of then President George Bush, was pointed in the direction of the Middle East where members of the terroristic organization, Al-Qaeda, and would soon make those “desert thugs” pay for many years to come. We were, again, becoming a group of people who stood with a united front and said, “Your attack on freedom will come at a heavy cost.” And it seemed like the term “functioning” would now have new boundaries.

President Bush addressed the workers and families at 9/11 ground zero by saying…”I can hear you! I can hear you! The rest of the world hears you! And the people-and the people who knocked these buildings down will hear all of us soon!”

And he launched Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan on October 7, 2001. And expanded the “War on Terror” beyond Afghanistan which would lead to the invasion of Iraq. The attacks also led to the establishment of the Department of Homeland Security in 2002 and the Patriot Act (www.cfr.org, 2025). This led to a 20-year conflict that led to the loss of over  7,000 American lives (https://usafacts.org, 2024). 

Major players in the terrorists’ attacks and the aiding and protection of additional terrorists were Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin-Laden. They were both hunted down and eventually executed. Saddam was convicted by the Iraqi High Tribunal of crimes against humanity. And was sentenced to death by hanging. He was executed on December 30, 2006.

On May 2, 2011, the United States conducted Operation Neptune Spear, where SEAL Team Six shot and killed Osama bin Laden at his “Waziristan Haveli” in Abbottabad, Pakistan. He was buried at sea to prevent his grave from becoming a shrine for his followers (History.com, 2025).

When an organization or a group of people decide that American “infidels” are a waste of air and skin, the destruction was immense. And there had been no sneak attack on our nation since Pear Harbor in 1941.We, as a nation, have proven time and time again that when you attack the freedoms of the United States of America, your lives will be diminished like the innocent lives that were ended in the September 11thattacks. Thanks for reading! And God bless the United States of America.

Affirmation: I believe in the resilience and freedom of America. I live with patriotism which I hold true.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

Featured darnold1975

What Are The Streets Saying? Lean

“My lean cost more than your rent, ooh (it do)

Your momma still live in a tent, yuh (brr) “

-Lyrics by Lil Pump’s song “Gucci Gang.”

 Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negativity energy, go away. Today, I want to discuss a drug concoction known as “Lean.” And how very dangerous it can be.

What is Lean? Lean is known as “purple drank,” “sizzurp,” “dirty sprite” and is a very dangerous addictive mixture of prescription-strength cough syrup, a soft drink, and sometimes hard candy  and sweeteners due to the unpleasant taste. The main ingredient is codeine which is an opioid. The misuse of codeine can cause a person’s heart rate and breathing to slow leading to an overdose and possible death. And it’s even more dangerous when combined with alcohol or other drugs such as benzodiazepines and Phenergan. High doses can cause hallucinations, vivid dreams, or nightmares. And can cause both physical and mental dependence .

Lean came on the scene in the music industry with such artists as Justin Bieber, Lil Nas and Three 6 Mafia in Houston, Texas. You can buy codeine over the counter in some countries (https://www.medicalnewstoday.com, 2025). However, in the United States, it can only be bought with a prescription. And with the crunch on doctors prescribing opioids, they syrup is more difficult and more expensive buying it on the street. Cough syrup that contains codeine usually costs between $250 and $800 per pint. Premade Lean on the street sales for up to $1000 per pint (https://www.arkbh.com, 2025).

 The precise number of lean specific overdoses and fatalities are not known. However, there are risks that must be considered including:

 I’ll be the first to tell you that I’ve never tried lean. I was one of those kids who always ran and hid when it was in liquid medicine form. If it was in pill form, there is a high likelihood that I would’ve used and probably gotten addicted to it. Thanks for reading. Take what you can use and leave the rest.

Affirmation: You are in charge of your life story.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

Featured darnold1975

What Are The Streets Saying? Inhalants

“The National Institute on Drug Abuse states, “The brain of a chronic toluene abuser is smaller compared to someone with no history of inhalant abuse.”

-Neil Rosenberg, M.D., NIDA Research Report

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negativity energy, go away. Today, I want to discuss something that many teenagers experiment with, inhalants. Abusing inhalants isn’t a new thing. As it was very popular 35 years ago. And when you’re a kid without access to money, getting “high” is just a short walk away to the family utility shed. I’ll give you some facts. And then I’ll tell my story.

First, let me describe what “huffing” is even though it’s self-explanatory. Huffing is the act of inhaling chemical vapors from common household products to get high. And it’s a dangerous form of substance abuse. Even though it might seem less risky, huffing can be even more dangerous with potentially severe and fatal consequences (https://evokewellnessoh.com, 2024).

The primary chemical in many dusters is HFC-134a, which act as propellant and refrigerant. Inhaling duster fumes can be dangerous. It can lead to serious side effects such as liver problems, breathing problems and death. Duster and other inhalants aren’t considered control substances and can be bought most anywhere.

Air dusters also contain other ingredients such as:

·        Difluoroethane can cause heart issues and loss of consciousness.

·        Nitrous Oxide can cause dizziness, vomiting and nausea.

·        Alkyl Nitrites can cause increased heart rate or vomiting.

·        Butane can affect the heart leading to sudden death.

·        Propane which can cause convulsions and loss of consciousness.

Other possible side effects are:

·        heart irregularities

·        unconsciousness

·        irritation of the nose, throat, and lungs

·        coughing

·        difficulty breathing

·        shortness of breath

·        irregular pulse

·        palpitations

·        inadequate circulation

·        abnormal kidney function

·        frostbite of the nasal cavity

·        breakdown of muscle tissue

·        liver damage

·        suffocation due to displacement of air inside the lungs

·        coma

·        convulsions

·        brain or nerve damage

·        bone marrow damage

·        choking on vomit after using an inhalant

·        sudden sniffing death, which is when a person dies suddenly after breathing in an inhalant due to cardiac arrest (https://medicalnewstoday.com, 2025).

Over a fifteen-year period, teens in the US abused more than 3,400 products through inhalation. The age range was from 6 to over 50 years old. Teen boys accounted for 73.5% of cases. Of those with known outcomes from emergency room visits, 208 died and more than 1,000 experienced life-threatening or permanent disabilities (www.poison.org, 2025).

·        More than 22.98 million Americans have abused inhalants at least once in their lifetime.

·        And over the past two decades, less than 1% of individuals aged 12 and older report past year use in 2023. 

·        Inhalants are typically used by younger adolescents, with 4% 8th graders having used in the last year. The peak age is 14 years old.

·        Inhalant abuse is less common in adults but does occur, especially among those with access to chemicals (https://www2.courtinfor.ca.gov, 2025).

·        Only 25% of inhalant abusers tested in emergency rooms had no effects. Most had serious effects or died (www.poison.org, 2025).

Toluene is a chemical found in common products including nail polish, paint thinners, adhesives. It is also used to aid in the production of benzene, other chemicals, pharmaceuticals, and dyes. Toluene can also be found in printing inks, varnishes, lacquers, and some types of glues (www.OSHA.gov, 2025).

Another product that is popular among teens, which can be bought at any “head shop” is “whip-its.” It is nitrous oxide which cuts off oxygen to the brain, creating a euphoric high that lowers mental and physical pain. And it is used to make whipped cream. Using nitrous for recreational purposes is illegal. And you can be fined or jailed for violating inhalant laws (www.webmd.com, 2025). Lock me up!

I’ll be the first to admit that “huffing” was always one of my favorite ways to get “high.” Second, only to pills. It began when I started sniffing White Out. I would cover the page with it and then roll it up and start sniffing the fumes. Same thing went for gasoline. I would put a little on a rag when I filled up with gas. And then held it to my nose and inhaled deeply. All while I was driving. I know. Safety scores are totally negative. And for many years I would quit. Always heavily involved in other types of addictions.

Once the stress of my life engulfed me while I was in undergraduate and beginning graduate school, I would start huffing again. And I found my “main squeeze” in computer duster. Mainly, because it was much cheaper than other things. I was in therapy at the time. And the stress of life and the ever-hovering PTSD symptoms had me huffing every chance I got, especially after therapy. And one day I had left therapy, grabbed my can of duster from underneath the seat and started huffing as fast as I could to get the “incorrect” EMDR effects out of my brain. And when the chemicals hit, they hit hard. Suddenly, I couldn’t figure out how to work my steering wheel. I ran up on the curb and over corrected and spun across four lanes of traffic. Luckily, there were no cars coming. I sit for a second and realized that everything was ok. Still much higher than I should’ve been to drive, I cranked my Honda CRV and headed in the direction of a potential future employer. But during my stupor I forgot to look for vehicles coming from the right as I was about to make a left turn. And the next thing I remember is hearing the horrible sound of glass breaking and a loud boom. My luck had just run out. I had inadvertently pulled out into the back wheels of an eighteen-wheeler. And for a split second I thought, “Wow! This is it. Jesus, I’m on the way!” The next thing I remember is feeling intense pain but unsure where. An ambulance picked me up from the scene. What I didn’t realize at the time was that the eighteen-wheeler had gone over the top of the cab and crashed it in. Nevertheless, I was terrified that I would be getting a DUI. But there was no way to test for an aerosol. So, I vowed to keep my mouth shut. They did do a toxicology test, but an aerosol is from the lungs not the blood. And I would live with battle wounds. I vowed to never touch that stuff again. But I would always carry that little behavior not as a first choice. But still a choice I would always have for private viewing. I thought that I was finally scared of addiction and the dark forces that surround it.

After many of doing without it while engaging in self-harm, illicit drugs, and alcohol, I would begin again while living in Texas for a couple of years. But this time, it was spray paint. They both get you “high,” however, duster can give you a very panicky “high.” If it do it too much, it becomes downright scary. To this day, I still deal with huffing. I know that it’s typically done in teenage years. But that’s when one of my biggest traumas occur day after day. And in many ways, I am still that same rebellious and very hurt teen.

If you know of someone who is “huffing,” help them stop NOW! Because years later they will look up and realize they’re an adult who’s still “huffing,” if not dead. It might seem harmless, but it’s not. I hope some of this educational material will bring more attention to a very common problem with inhalants. Thanks for reading! Take what you can use and leave the rest.

Affirmation: You are not your mistakes

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

Featured darnold1975

What Are The Streets Saying? “Benzo Dope”

“Drugs take you to hell disguised as heaven.”

-Donald Lyn Frost

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about a drug that is more dangerous than fentanyl. It’s called “Benzo Dope.” In my time working in the addiction field, one of the most dangerous combinations of drugs that I saw was benzodiazepines and opiates.

Benzodiazepines (Benzo) are a class of depressant drugs that are commonly used in anti-anxiety medications such as: Xanax, Valium, Ativan and Klonopin . There are many others but these mentioned are the most common. They are used in conjunction with many other drugs like heroin, cocaine and fentanyl to intensify the sedating effects. These drugs both decrease respirations and when combined can cause coma or death (dea.gov, 2025). Common street names associated with these drugs are: bars, footballs, french fries, ladders, tranks, planks, xannies, benzo blues, nerve pills, candy, k, k-pin, super valium (addictioncenter.com, 2025).

During my extensive time of being on psychiatry meds, I was prescribed “benzos” to help treat paralyzing anxiety. The trend that I’ve personally seen is that some doctors have significantly decreased prescribing these meds because of their high potential for abuse. The withdrawal symptoms, regardless if you abuse them or not, come with some pretty nasty symptoms. Even when being tapered down withdrawal effects are still present. Yep, I have abused those drugs a time or two with and without opiates.

“Benzo Dope” combines these two types of drugs raising the overdose rate in epic proportions. The “benzo” part of the concoction throws up some amnestic barriers where the user has no idea what has transpired. And oftentimes they don’t even know that benzos have been added to their dope. This leaves individuals susceptible to being robbed, raped and other traumas with no memory of the event. Now, however, “benzo dope” has become a staple in which addicts ask for it by name. The life saving drug, “Narcan,” helps to reverse the overdose effects of opiates but plays no part in the reversing the life cycle of benzodiazepines.

Several years ago, I worked at a methadone clinic in Albuquerque, NM. Methadone is another very dangerous drug that should be taken off the market. There were numerous overdoses because while using that strong opiate they combined benzos which resulted in death. As always, take what you need and leave the rest. No matter what drug is being used addiction is a death sentence.

“It is more difficult and dangerous to widraw people from benzodiazepines than from heroin.”

-Unknown

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

Featured darnold1975

What Are The Streets Saying? Fentanyl

“The DEA is part of the army of good working people  working against the evil of drugs. The cartels deal in death, but we fight for life. This is not about politics; it’s about survival. Together, as one nation, we will end this  fentanyl crisis and protect our people.”

-Acting Administrator, Derek Maltz

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I’m going to discuss one of the leading killers in our nation, FENTANYL. The correct pronunciation is (Fen-ta-nil). Fentanyl is a very powerful synthetic opioid that is used in surgery as an anesthetic to control severe pain. However, over the past decade, the drug has made its way into the illicit drug supply by way of cartels who are supplied most of the time from China where fentanyl is manufactured. And the street value of a counterfeit pill of fentanyl ranges from $1 to $3 a pill. And this is why fentanyl is so affordable and appealing to anyone.

With the opioid crisis that began in the 1990s and the lack of alternative pain control, chronic pain sufferers were forced to go to the streets to handle it themselves. I also suffer from chronic pain. A few years ago when I was living in Texas, no matter how much I told my doctors about my increasing nerve pain that has spread all over my body, no one would help me. I began to think that maybe my medical issues weren’t legit. What I soon found out was that the fear of healthcare professionals of persecution because of doctors who went too far and had opened clinics called “pill mills.” These were clinics that resembled pain clinics that were prescribed  without sufficient medical history. Patients in  these types of facilities received only prescriptions as a cash only transaction.

“Overdose deaths involving primarilyfentanyl totaled 73,838 reported in 2022”

(nida.nih.gov, 2024). 

The result was an astronomical amount going to people for forming both a physical and mental addiction on these drugs. What it also caused was the people with legitimate pain issues who had no access to medications that made their pain tolerable. Chronic pain will lead you to a couple of different places for relief. The streets where pills are sold illicitly or suicide. It’s not always about wanting to be a criminal. And unfortunately, our nation didn’t have answers to help with those needs. I had used medical cannabis previously when I lived in Albuquerque, NM. Texas, however, was a big southern slow towards that goal.

I tried everything I could get my hands on to help manage my pain without success. So, I headed to the streets for relief. I went down into the area of south Dallas which was nothing but hoodrats and drug dealers. And I was only able to go into those areas because I was with someone else who was already well known in that area. I was a gay white female who people there thought was a cop. I might be a lot of things but a narc I am not. I’ll be honest, that area was scary as hell. But I felt that I had no other options. And so I started buying pills from a dealer.

“The latest DEA laboratory testing announced earlier this fall, indicates that 5 out of every 10 pills tested contain a potentially deadly dose of fentanyl. Two milligrams of fentanyl is considered a lethal dose. For perspective, one gram of fentanyl, equivalent in size to a sugar packet, has the potential to kill up to 500 people.” (DEA.gov, 2024).

At the time, pills were going for $1/mg. This means that a pharmaceutical pain pill that was 30mg went for $30. And because these pills were harder to come by means that the prices were constantly increasing. So, I might get pain relief for one night. The next day I was in horrible pain yet again. When you buy drugs off the street, you are forced to unfortunately buy what is available. And some of it is pretty difficult to come by. And each time you take the medication you are playing Russian roulette. And I didn’t care. I needed relief like I needed air. 

I was only able to buy morphine 60mg tablets which equaled $60/day which was impossible to come by for me. Buying on the streets is always a crapshoot about being able to stay in contact with more than one dealer. It’s a game of who if anyone will come through for you. Desperation will lead you to doing irrational things. And it was worth it at the time. I consider myself incredible that I didn’t become a statistic to fentanyl. And I never became addicted to anything that I used there. 

“Fentanyl is 100 times more potent than morphine.”

(DEA.gov, 2024)

Fentanyl is in everything now. If kids get some pills from a friend that bought them from a dealer and it has been cut with fentanyl, they’re dead. Narcan, which is a medication that helps to reverse the effects of an opiate, definitely helps to reverse overdose. But what if you took the pill right before you got into bed hoping for a nice, peaceful sleep pain free? No one is there and narcan then means nothing.

While growing up in the 80’s the drugs were still safe to experiment with. But now they’re not. Fentanyl is one of those drugs that has seemed to grab my attention about its hidden dangers.  Some people are being intentionally poisoned due to fentanyl. And it scares the hell out of me for my kids.

I invite you to watch videos on YouTube about fentanyl awareness. One of my personal favorites is Texas Documentaries that has a new video every couple of days about how fentanyl  has destroyed so many lives and their families. Have fun. Stay safe. And educate yourselves and those you love about the dangers of fentanyl.

“We’ve been at the forefront of this fight against synthetic opioids since the very beginning. We are committed to combating  fentanyl, and the men and women of CBP are up to the task.”

-CBP Senior Official Performing the Duties of the Commissioner Troy Miller

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Most Dangerous Internet Challenges Part 3

“Getting information from the Internet is like taking a drink from a fire hydrant.”

-Mitchell Kapor

Thanks for coming back to read the final blog about the Most Dangerous Internet Challenges. I have saved the most dangerous of all the challenges I’ve talked about until now. That does not mean that I’m being insensitive to the destruction that the previous ones have caused. However, for varied reasons these last four challenges go down as my top for being some of the most dangerous. Let’s continue…

Skull Breaker Challenge

This is a dangerous challenge that first made its mark on Tik Tok in 2020. I’m not saying that the behavior itself has never been conducted before. Because I’m fairly sure that when I was a teen, we did something similar. The participants work as a group of three. One person stands in the middle, while the other two stand on either side. They tell the middle person to jump up and then very swiftly use a sweeping kick so that the middle person falls to the ground and hits their head. Injuries that have been associated with this challenge include concussion, neck, head and spinal injuries. Skull fractures and paralysis are also known to be associated with this challenge. Tik Tok very quickly took down any videos related to the challenge.

Benadryl Challenge

This is a challenge where it involves taking massive amounts of Benadryl in order to get high and hallucinate. Ok, stop for a second. We didn’t even have internet challenges much less this one. Hell, I did this just to escape my own horrible reality. But you can only take so much before the “high” isn’t a really pleasant experience. However, when you don’t have access to money, as a young teen, you go to the next best place, the parents’ medicine cabinet. 

I’m not trying to glorify this. What I am saying is that there are many varied reasons why someone would do something like this. While this can be deadly, I never considered those dangers as a teen. The overconsumption of this medication can lead to confusion, delirium, psychosis, organ damage, hyperthermia, convulsions coma and death. And sadly, there have been children and teens who did not live to see the next internet challenge.

Blackout Challenge

Ok. This one right here has been known to be my poison. The Blackout Challenge also called the “Choking Game” are another one of those things that have thrill seekers mouths watering with anticipation. I had no idea that this had a formal name for behavior until I started seeing this in news reports. The challenge formally began to gain widespread attention on Tik Tok in 2021. It’s a challenge that deprives the brain of oxygen and blocks blood from entering the brain.

Oxygen deprivation of the brain has the potential to cause moderate to severe brain cell death. And because fatalities are often ruled as suicides, it makes the statistics unreliable. I think we all can agree that this can be dangerous. One of the reasons that it’s so popular is because it costs zero dollars to try. As dangerous as it can be, I don’t see this behavior being eradicated. 

My personal beginning with this behavior was born out of a very traumatic situation. And I can tell you that the longer kids get their needs met in this way, the more difficult it is to stop. And just like any type of self-harm that serves a purpose for the individual, the results can be deadly.

I completely understand that not every child looks for some type of emotional need to be met with these behaviors. Either way no one can deny the facts about the statistics showing that it can be deadly. I can admit that this isn’t “brain food” and is still considered very stupid to most people. The main thing is for parents to be aware of the signs that are related to this behavior which include discussion of the game, bloodshot eyes, marks on the neck, severe headaches, disorientation after spending time alone, ropes, scarves and belts tied to bedroom furniture or doorknobs or knotted on the floor and unexplained presence of things like dog leashes, choke collars and bungee cords.

Blue Whale Challenge

The Blue Whale Challenge is one that I consider to be very insidious. If you’ve read my recent blog about the online predatory group 764, this is one that’s eerily reminiscent. It was an online social phenomenon in 2016 that began in Russia and claimed to exist in many countries. The game consists of a series of tasks to players over a 50-day period. 

In its start, the creator who was a former Russian psychology student, got expelled from the university. He said that he originally created the game in 2013 in order to “clean society of biological wastes.” The tasks begin with things like “get up at 4:30 am”  or “watch a horror movie” before moving into self-harm. And the end of the game involves committing suicide. The administrators were found to be children aged between 12 and 14 years of age. 

In June 2018, Russian financial analyst, Nikita Nearonov was arrested for masterminding the game. Nearonov is suspected of grooming ten underage girls in order for them to commit suicide. The game has been reported to be banned in countries including Egypt, Kenya and Pakistan. However, experts agree that it’s almost impossible to ban the game.

I hope this series has been informative on some of the dangerous internet challenges. For all the ones that have diminished, there are new challenges in ten-fold waiting to take their place. Remembering how naïve I was as a teen helps me to realize that had the internet been as big then as it is now, I would’ve surely gotten hurt at the very least. I was incredibly impulsive and searching for something to distract me from life as it was. Thanks for reading! 

***Don’t forget to watch the video***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Most Dangerous Internet Challenges Part 2 

“The screen is a window through which one sees a virtual world. The challenge is to make that world look real, act real, sound real, feel real.”

-Ivan Sutherland

Now Let’s Continue…

Bird Box Challenge

The Bird Box Challenge was inspired by the movie Bird Box starring Sandra Bullock. The goal is to complete everyday tasks blindfolded. They go for as long as 24 hours with little success. This was happening so much that one of the streaming giants, Netflix, issued a statement: “Can’t believe I have to say this, but: PLEASE DO NOT HURT YOURSELVES WITH THIS BIRD BOX CHALLENGE. We don’t know how this started, and we appreciate the love, but Boy and Girl have just one wish for 2019, and it is that you not to end up in the hospital due to memes.” And as teens always do, a 17-year-old girl had a car wreck from trying to drive blindfolded where she hit another car, a light pole and a sound barrier. And she hasn’t been the last. 

To me this one could’ve been fairly innocent as long as people didn’t get too crazy. But driving  blindfolded? There is a reason for not allowing blind people to drive. And then all of a sudden, a girl who put a beanie over her eyes says, “I can do this!” Ok dummy by yourself is one thing. But she had a passenger who was like, “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you when you get close to something.” Did her agreeing passenger fall asleep or was she thrown onto the floorboard upside down?

One chip Challenge

This is one that I’ve personally noticed being more noticeable. I can’t tell you how many of the one chip challenge videos I have watched. In the earlier blog I wrote about the Scoville Heat Units scale that is used to show how spicy an item is. The challenge required participants to eat the Paqui chip and then see how long they could go without food or water. The One Chip Challenge has a spice level between 2,200,00 to 2, 300, 000 SHU (brainy.com, 2023). The chips sold individually came wrapped in foil in a coffin shaped box at a price of $10. Poison control centers warned that the concentrated amount could cause allergic reactions, trouble breathing, irregular heartbeats, heart attacks and strokes. 

On September 1, 2023, a 10th Grader died after doing this challenge. The autopsy found that he had a heart attack which was due to the high concentrate of chili pepper extract coupled with a congenital heart defect that led to his death. As a result, the chip company collaborated with retailers to have it removed from their shelves. And the One Chip Challenge is no more. Congenital heart defect or not, I would’ve had one for sure if you threw that level of spice on me.

Tide Pod Challenge

I’m still shaking my head about this one. However, while working in the field of addiction I saw people go to extremes to get high or drunk. And, yes, there was a client so desperate to drink that she drank Tide with Bleach. One camera and one pooper later and the lining of her digestive tract was burned. But the majority of the people doing the challenge were not alcoholics. They were kids and teens.

In my younger days those who were my audience were only a handful of people. Today, kids have access to the internet which is viewed by billions of people. But equally as guilty are the media who glorify stupidity. The challenge requires the person to hold or chew a Tide Pod and then spit it out. Ingesting or inhalation of the detergent include difficulty breathing requiring intubation, seizures, excessive vomiting and death.

Nyquil Chicken Challenge

I was the kid that when it came to medicine time before bed I ran and hid. In the late seventies and early eighties most of the medications administered to children were not tailored to kids’ taste buds. And since Nyquil was first made in 1966 there has not been, in my opinion, a big push for making the medication delicious. I always imagined that I was being fed snake venom by my parents. So, this idea of Nyquil Chicken was likewise never a temptation.

“Nyquil Chicken” or “Sleepy Chicken” involves boiling, sauteing or marinating chicken in the green cough syrup. One of the things that happens with medications or substances is that when you heat it the properties change. Once these things change from a liquid to a gas it can irritate the membranes of the air way potentially damaging the lungs. When consumed, the medication is concentrated and unequally distributed. The harmful side effects when taken at a greater dosage than the recommended dose can also be deadly.

I hope you have enjoyed reading and watching the videos of some of these ridiculous internet challenges. Some of these that I’m writing about I didn’t know were even in the universe. I’m learning so much while researching this topic. And I can tell you that it’s been a “honey hole” of information. Keep reading as there is one more blog in this series of some of the most dangerous internet challenges available to all who find it fun to seek death in an effort to become the next social media phenom.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

What Are The Streets Saying?Kratom

“Recovery is hard. Regret is harder.”

-Brittany Burgunder

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Are you wondering what’s the big deal with Kratom? You may not even know what Kratom is. Today, I will tell you why there’s so many things in the news about upcoming legislation.

Kratom is pronounced (Cray-tom)Kratom is a tree native to Southeast Asia. The ground leaves, when consumed in low doses, acts as a stimulant. And in high doses function as a sedative and can lead to psychotic symptoms and both psychological and physical dependence. Kratom contains two major psychoactive ingredients mitragynine and 7-hydroxymytragynine. The leaves are powdered and can then be smoked, brewed with tea, gel capsules or mixed into a liquid. Or the leaves can be chewed. It can also lead to addiction. 

There have been several cases of psychosis and symptoms including hallucinations, delusion and confusion upon use. The effects on the body include nausea, itching, sweating, dry mouth, constipation, increased urination, tachycardia, vomiting, drowsiness and loss of appetite. Users have also experienced anorexia, weight loss, insomnia, hepatoxicity, seizure and hallucinations (getsmartaboutdrugs.gov, 2024).

I used Kratom for a while to help with chronic pain. And I have to admit that it helped. When I used it, I would mix a spoonful into some orange juice and drink it. The taste is extremely bitter. And overall, I just didn’t like the way that it made me feel. I never became addicted to this substance. I can understand why people can become addicted to it. All you have to do is look at the list of side effects to realize that those same type of signs and symptoms are related to opiate use. And some people believe that Kratom is, in fact, an opiate needing some type of legislation.

Kratom supporters argue that it is helpful for chronic pain and  opiate addicts. And I personally can’t deny those facts. And with it also being a plant, some people argue that it’s safe like cannabis. It is not. Kratom can actually lead to overdose death. Cannabis has yet to have a casualty. I don’t think that it’s completely horrible. I do think that it’s a substance that needs to be used with caution. And I also don’t believe that minors should be allowed to buy it legally. Kids just don’t use it in moderation and always look to just get high. And there have been deaths associated with its use.

There are several countries that have also banned the  possession and use of kratom. These countries include: 

§  Australia

§  Finland

§  Denmark

§  Japan

§  Isreal

§  Malaysia

§  Lithuania

§  Latvia

§  Myanmar

§  Russia

§  Poland 

§  Romania

§  South Korea

§  Singapore

§  Thailand

§  Vietnam

§  New Zealand (bicyclehealth.com, 2024).

As with most substances like this, the FDA does not approve of it. And unlike cannabis, there are no safety measures that have been set in place for regulation. There is no testing of the product to identify pesticides, molds or any cutting substances. Therefore, you have absolutely no idea what has been mixed in with this plant. And for this reason, I agree that that testing should be required prior to the sale. 

The DEA currently has Kratom listed as a “drug of concern.” And it will be scheduled under the Substance Abuse Act. The DEA also stated that they will seek to list Kratom as a Schedule 1 drug which has a high potential for abuse and no currently accepted medical use. And a lack of accepted safety for use under medical supervision (dea.gov, 2016) Currently, individual states have launched their own legislation regarding this substance.

The Six states that have already banned kratom are: Alabama, Arkansas, Indiana, Rhode Island, Vermont and Wisconsin. Other states have enacted legislation about minimum age requirements like nicotine and alcohol. The safest thing to do is to read about the risks involved and make your own decision. And check current legislation in your state for its legal status. Be careful if you have a history of addiction.

If you have minor teens or children, do not let them take this substance. This should only be allowed for adults. Enjoy it while you can. Because this is another substance that will eventually be banned throughout the country. Where it might have been initially used legitimately for years, the substance has proven to be deadly on all  fronts. Thanks for reading! Take what you can and leave the rest.

Affirmation: You are stronger than your temptation.

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

I Love This Plant!

“I find it quite ironic that the most dangerous thing about weed is getting caught with it.”

-Bill Murray

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go aways. Okie dokie! Today marks my second favorite time of the year. Yep it’s the month of 420! Not everyone agrees with it. For me though, it has saved my life. To the naysayers, there is absolutely nothing you can tell me negatively that I’ll believe about the plant called cannabis.

Cannabis has been around for forever and ever amen with a lot of negative connotations. My own family still takes issue with the fact that federally it’s still considered illegal. And you can’t really have a conversation about it because some of them are not willing to discuss the science. In a lot of ways vilifying this plant because of the Nancy Reagan 80’s seems to have stuck. I have family members that are earthy, crunchy thinkers in regard to health. And their lives all about healing with fruits, vegetables and herbs. But so am I. I like fruits, vegetables and herbs too. I just smoke my herbs. The side effects are very simple: sleepy, happy and hungry. “Big Pharma” on the other hand are constantly being sued for all of the harmful side effects. No thank you to medications that cause more harm than good. And drinking and driving home is the much safer option?

Over the years cannabis has gotten a horrible name. It’s not because it’s a dangerous drug. In fact, cannabis is one of the healthiest plants available. Our country has now made it a priority to invest money into science and discovering the healing properties. And there are scientific studies proving that cannabis isn’t as bad as once thought.

Unlike alcohol and other harmful drugs, cannabis continues to provide people with life saving medicine as it has for me. It’s healing cannabinoids help with chronic pain, epilepsy, anxiety, multiple sclerosis, PTSD, alzheimer’s disease, chemotherapy induced nausea and vomiting, insomnia, cancer, fighting cancer, inflammatory bowel disease, tourette syndrome, crohn’s disease, depression, HIV/AIDS, muscle spasms, anorexia, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, addiction, inflammation,parkinson’s disease, PTSD, reducing blood pressure, anxiety disorders, stabilizing blood sugar, decreasing overdose rates, opioid dependence, spinal cord injuries, dystonia, dementia, glaucoma, schizophrenia and other medical and psychological problems (ncbi.nlm.nih.gov, 2017).

The days of believing that cannabis is a drug that causes great bodily harm are over. Hallelujah! Now let me point out one thing. Cannabis isn’t for everyone just like certain pharmaceuticals aren’t. And I agree that some people might have some type of addiction issues. However, there is no physical withdrawal that occurs. It is impossible to overdose on cannabis. You might take or use too much, causing intoxication. But that’s not the plant’s fault. If you have a problem with addiction to this, it is a “you” problem not the substance. 

I can only speak for myself as one who has a lengthy history of addiction, I have never had a problem with marijuana. The problems have always come back to myself and the maladaptive ways of coping. Buying marijuana off the streets where most of it has come from cartels, it can be sprayed with poisons which increase the effects and dependency. And this is also where a lot of the paranoia stems from. Yes, there are people who complain about paranoia induced by cannabis that is bought from very safe dispensaries. These cases are very minimal on a broad scale. So, marijuana might not fit you as an individual. However,for people like me who continue to reap the benefits of this plant minus the addiction, I can say that it has truly saved my life. And as a result has lowered the amount of suicidal ideations that used to plague me on a daily basis. 

The effects of PTSD continue to complicate my life. The overwhelming symptoms are not near what they once were. Cannabis does NOT cure PTSD. It simply helps with the unfriendly symptoms and side effects. I have gone from being on close to fifteen psychiatric “big pharma” medications down to zero. I didn’t see the point of taking Parkinson’s medication for a side effect of the anti-depressant. Not to mention that I wasn’t able to experience emotions in a way to gauge how I was healing. And everything from the waist down was literally dead. If that’s the price you pay for happiness, then I would rather be sad. I still struggle hard sometimes. And that is where working with coach is other beneficial piece to my treatment. If it is not a substance that doesn’t work for you then move on. But don’t demonize this medication for those of us that it helps to ensure survivability. Thanks for reading! Keep moving forward.

“It is irresponsible not to provide the best care we can as a medical community, care that could involve marijuana. We have been terribly and systematically misled for nearly 70 years in the United States, and I apologize for my own role in that.”

-Dr Sanjay Gupta, Neurosurgeon

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

What Are The Streets Saying? Pressed Pills

“The percentage of deaths with evidence of counterfeit pill use involving only illicitly manufactured fentanyl was more than double the  percentage among deaths without evidence of counterfeit pill use.”

(CDC.gov, 2023)

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Back to the streets. Today, I want to talk about one of the main reasons people are dying in record numbers due to the “fentanyl crisis.” The topic is “pressed pills.” 

First, we must understand what is a “pressed pill?” The DEA states, “Drug traffickers use pill presses to press fentanyl into pills, punches and dies to imprint markings and logos onto those pills, producing pills that look like legitimate prescription medication-like Oxycodone, Xanax and Adderall-when those pills actually contain Fentanyl, methamphetamine, and other deadly drugs (DEA.gov, 2024). Likewise the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) indicate that approximately over 100,000 drug overdose deaths in the US during the 12 months ending in April 2021. That was a 30% increase compared to the year before (Harm Reduction Journal, 2002).

“In 2023, the Drug Enforcement Administration seized over 79 million fake pills containing fentanyl-a more than 33% increase from the year before. DEA laboratory testing currently indicates that 7 out of 10 pills contain a potentially deadly dose of fentanyl.”

(Dea.gov, 2025)

The majority of the production of fentanyl comes from China. It is then, in turn, sent to Mexico or Afghanistan where cartels mix fentanyl into the drugs that they are manufacturing. Pills and other drugs are now often purchased through SnapChat, Gaming Platform “chat” functions and other dark web sites. And today, there are about 9,300 websites selling drugs illegally on the darkweb. They advise to check your kid’s phones for unusual words like Blues, Blueberries, Apache, China Girl, China Town, Dance Fever, Friend, Goodfellas, Great Bear, He-Man, Jackpot, King Ivory, Murder 8, Tango & Cash, f3nt, TNT, fluff, tabs, vikes, hydros, vitamins, ercs, or 30s. These code names change very frequently (adamsbroomfieldda.org, 2024.

Drug dealers also contact a China manufacturer directly and can purchase fentanyl and have it shipped straight to their door. Another synthetic opiate that can escalate overdose deaths is Carfentanil which is another fentanyl derivative that is 100 times more potent than fentanyl. Carfentanil is used as an elephant tranquilizer (Dea.gov, 2024). 

“Carfentanyl is 10,000 times more stronger than morphine”

(DEA.gov, 2005).

Illicit fentanyl comes in powdered, pll and liquid forms. The new trend is “Rainbow Fentanyl.”  It gets its name from brightly-colored fentanyl found in pills, powder and blocks that can resemble candy or sidewalk chalk. This presents a significant danger primarily to children who may mistake this as candy. The color variations indicate the potency. Fentanyl’s potency and cheap costs are reasons why drug dealers are mixing it into other drugs. And this is also the reason that most fentanyl deaths occur at home (maricopacountyattorney.org, 2025).

As is the culture of illicit drugs, when addicts find out that there has been a deadly batch of fentanyl, they scurry to find the dealer because they know that their product is strong. Call it crazy, but when you are in the grasps of addiction nothing is off limits. Since opiate withdrawal is so painful and unpleasant, a lot of addicts get caught in the cycle of wanting to stop but not wanting to be sick. So most continue using just to stay well.

Fentanyl is no doubt an extremely dangerous drug. And it’s only a matter of time before users will die from an overdose or poisoning. Stay abreast on the latest news and trends regarding fentanyl and other illicit drugs to help protect yourself, friends and family. If at all possible do everything you can to prevent another statistic.

***Don’t forget to watch the video below!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

What Is My Purpose?

“Nothing is more creative…nor destructive…than a brilliant mind with a purpose.”

-Dan Brown

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Wow. I had no idea that I would write about this topic today. And it’s a concept that has haunted me for many years. What is my purpose in life? 

Is my purpose to see how many punches I can take and still walk out of the fire alive? Ok. I’ve done that and continued to do that on a daily basis. Is it to conform to societal standards of what “normal” is? That will never be me. Is it to tackle difficult subjects that make people cringe? You’re getting warmer. Well, let me see if I can discern the information that I know without a doubt. 

1. I love helping people. Helping people is a burden on your soul. You don’t decide to help people because of a dollar sign. Helping people whether on an ambulance or in an addiction facility has always been my niche. My actions are done because of a calling that I was born to do. If anyone needs help and I can provide it, I will. That is one of the things that my family dynamics impressed upon me.

2.  Helping and caring for animals. You also don’t just decide to have compassion for animals. Some people say these things and yet I watch them beat their animals without constraint. My ex-husband has always said that he was an animal lover. That is the farthest thing from the truth. I’ll never forget the screams of my animals when he would take a belt, in the middle of the night, and go beat them. And I was completely powerless to defend them. When I left that horribly abusive situation, my animals were killed. My animals and the other animals that I interact with are my kids. I learned a long time ago, that I could trust animals when I couldn’t humans.

3.  Speaking up about difficult topics. I have no problem talking about really difficult topics in society. Sometimes it doesn’t make me the most popular person. And I don’t care. The topics of racism, mental illness, addiction, abuse, medical cannabis, suicide, self-harm, sexual abuse, puberty, predators, LGBTQ+ equality, rape, parenting or any other topic that makes us cringe. What you don’t see is how sometimes I struggle discussing them. Part of that is because of how I was raised. In the deep south, we are taught to not create any waves as it might reflect poorly on the family. And to know our places as children which was to always respect your elders without question. But what if you are a bystander to something that is abusive, and you don’t speak up? That’s what keeps me up at night. The personal information that I blog about that has happened or is currently happening in my life isn’t always pretty. And I realize that I’m not the savior who can swoop in and rescue people. I can, however, do my part as a human being. And, yes, I still worry about things that I cannot control and still become obsessions.

4. Writing is a passion. I began writing out of necessity. When I left my abusive therapist, I felt completely broken. The person I went to for help betrayed me in a way that continues to affect me. And unless you have been abused, you have no idea the hurdles that would have to be overcome to continue moving forward. And the complete disconnect between your emotions and your brain So, I began writing about topics that were affecting me in that moment. And suddenly, I began to get relief even if I hadn’t found the answers that I needed. I finally felt like I had a voice that deserved to be heard. I was tired of remaining quite as I had been expected to do my whole life. That’s when I realized that I wasn’t all those names that I had been called. I was someone who had information and experiences to share in order to help others. I have always felt alone no matter how many people I was around or despite the number of smiles that I put on my face. Blogging itself is a platform to help others in similar situations understand that they are not alone. Had someone just explained to me that my situations were not ok and that millions of people, worldwide, suffer in silence as I have, maybe that sense of loneliness would’ve diminished. However, when it’s happening to you especially all of the manipulation and brainwashing that occurs, you cannot see past the moment. Abuse leaves you questioning everything about the next person and even those in my family. I knew one thing for sure, I could not remain quiet. 

5. Humor brings me enjoyment. Humor has always been one of my greatest coping skills. I go through life as a literal thinker. So, if someone has a “Freudian slip” I will laugh myself silly even if that slip up was from myself. Humor a lot of times was used against me to make me a public spectacle. And it was done in a very demeaning way. As a way of life, I learned how to beat someone to the punch on a smartass comment. I always try to see the humor in most situations. And when there is no humor, I will find a way to interject some of my own. This gets me in trouble sometimes because that’s not conforming to those around me. And I’m expected to just let crazy happenings go without acknowledgment. That’s like putting a plastic bag over my head and being expected to breathe when the air is gone. I will always point out the sometimes-ridiculous way a situation looks. And I’ll probably write a note about it in my phone to use at a later date. I’m not right or wrong. It’s just how I operate.

My passion and purpose is to help others understand that just because you have taken the broken road in life doesn’t mean that you still can’t achieve happiness and also help others. I write about a lot of maladaptive behaviors that I continue to struggle with. But I also share my experience, strength and hope with those need that need the validation that they are not inherently bad or unworthy of happiness, love and inclusion. I still struggle with that concept. If you are a human being, you will fail. You will fall. You will be forced to confront your demons head-on. And it will scare the literal shit out of you. You will be forced to look at your part in situations. If you do not, you will remain stuck. You except your responsibility and move on whether or not the others do the same. You are responsible for only your feelings and emotions that are constantly changing. If they don’t except their responsibility, then they will shift the blame back to you. Push that shit out of the way. Hold your head high. And leave those people like a boss. You are worthy. You are loved. And you are enough!

“Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder. Help someone’s soul heal. Walk out of your house like a shepherd.”

-Rumi

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Did He Say Puberty?

“Other than dying, I think puberty is about as rough as it gets.”

-Rick Springfield

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Today, I want to talk about that horrible stage in life called PUBERTY! I know, I know. I feel like I just got acid dumped on me for saying that name. These days I have found the evil older sister called menopause. 

I personally don’t know how I got through puberty. I started understanding the confusion of being gay. The hormonal changes made me psycho. I began learning about relationships and how they change. I remember thinking that I took everything so personally. Horrible trauma was a constant. I became an addict in so many different ways. I was also incredibly impulsive. I don’t ever remember considering the consequences about anything. It was all about if “they” said no, DO IT! Little did I know, I would get permanently stuck in that developmental age. My body might’ve gotten older but I have not really aged emotionally. Trauma manages to stunt your emotional growth. And I was going through more than my fair share while my brain was still developing.

I was never taught boundaries growing up. I didn’t have any personal boundaries and perpetrators are boundaryless by nature. It was the perfect set up for things to go horribly wrong and they did. Our class went through so much trauma within about five years that we had to grow up incredibly fast. By the time I was a senior, I was emotionally searching for something that could provide me with some kind of hope. And that’s when my ex-husband made his predatory move. Many of us have become addicts in different ways. And sadly, many of my classmates have attempted suicide, completed suicide, died from drug overdoses or have gone to prison. It was so tumultuous, in fact, that I totally retract at the mention of the word.

As I have watched my oldest son, Marshall, go head first into that time period, I would be lying if I didn’t say how scared I am for him. The world is so much more violent. Bullying is much worse. Suicides and murders are out of control. School shootings are happening all over the country. Predators show even less restraint. Depending on where you live in the United States being free to express your sexuality can also be very traumatic. Pressure about having perfect grades and being accepted into top college programs has stolen the happiness of a child’s developmental process. And then there’s fentanyl that tops it all. I hate to sound like an old fart by saying that the world was just different then but it was. 

I think now there’s more emphasis on developmental mental health which is always a positive. Cell Phones have been able to record evidence of some of these covert things especially with abusive teachers. And finally these kids have the proof that administrators can’t blow off. But the shame and rejection by families and society doesn’t make life any easier. Perpetrators whether they be peers or adults still operate in the same way. Threats and intimidation is what keeps kids silent and in constant fear. And you put all of that onto a teen and they just can’t handle it. I have overheard people talking about suicide and the person said, “Sometimes life is just too damn hard for these kids.” I know my kids well and I pay attention to everything that I can while co-parenting with their other mom and her partner. We all have a very open type of relationship. However, it scares the absolute shit out of me, because most people thought that I was perfectly fine. And I was the farthest thing from that.

You can follow all the latest research and suggested ways of raising a child but they can still carry with them their own darkness even in plain sight. I would hope that my boys would come to me for anything. But the truth is, that may or may not happen and the consequences can be devastating. And if that’s not resolved in a healthy way then they carry that emotional weight into adulthood. It will be interesting 20 years from now to see the problems that these kids have as adults. Because the struggles that kids are facing now will resurface in some way.

I have laughed many times at the funny sides of puberty by watching my kids. Especially when little brother,Copeland, and his frustrations with Marshall. Sometimes it’s just plain hilarious. At 10 years old, he asks his own questions about puberty. I try to be mature about some of it but it’s a futile effort. Sometimes I laugh so hard that I can hardly breathe. Copeland loves to call his brother out anytime he gets the chance. Not to mention the fact that bathing is an evil necessity and seems to be the main thing that gets in the way of their happiness at this moment. Here is an example of a conversation that I witnessed one day:

Me:  “What’s that smell?”

Copeland: “Probably my brother.”

Marshall:  “Why did you say that?” 

Copeland: “Because it’s true! Momma Mel said that you stink and it’s a sign of puberty. Even if you don’t have hair on your balls yet.”

I made a quick stop to the bathroom because my bladder can’t handle as much laughter as it once did. Whew…I met it half way.  I had to laugh into a towel. 

I asked them:

Copeland: “Puberty and why he stinks.” 

Me: “What are y’all talking about?”

(I start giggling) 

I cannot seem to be mature about certain topics. And this was a stunning example.

Copeland: “Momma Mel says that you get hair everywhere.”

Me: “Yep one day you’ll have hairy tits, pits and a ball-fro on your cherries.” 

(We all laughed.)

Me: Now who wants the shower first? Nuts and butts!!! Let’s go!!!

At this time in my life, I do my best to still laugh at their innocence. We take one day and one argument at a time. I correct them when I need to . But I also let them have the freedom to say what they feel that they need to say within reason.  And I help them the best I can to deal with feelings. I also let them know that feelings are just feelings and they don’t last forever. So that when they’re almost fifty years old they don’t have to suffer with not ever knowing that the concept ever existed. So, maybe, just maybe, they can begin to understand that emotions aren’t terminal. And that all the power that they need is found from within themselves instead of in all the temptations on the outside that lead to even bigger problems.. And they won’t be forever stuck in an insufferable and totally self-obsessed hell.

“Raising teens is like nailing jello to a tree.”

-Unknown

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

What Are The Streets Saying? Krokodil

“Krokodil is a flesh eating drug”

(opustreatment.com, 2024).

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Today’s topic for What Are the Streets Saying? I want to talk to you about a drug called Krokodil. This drug is especially dangerous as compounds can make wounds on the skin resemble those of a flesh eating bacteria.

This drug was first reported in Siberia in the 2002. It then spread to countries such as Ukraine, Georgia, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Czech Republic, France, Belgium, Germany, Sweden, Norway and the USA. And it’s victims are usually young people between the ages of 18-25. Typical clinical presentations of the same type of skin, muscle and bone infections are treated with IV antibiotics and wound dressing changes. The damage caused by this drug is resistant to these types of therapies (calpoison.org, 2023). And this is why these types of infections are associated with use of this drug is oftentimes a very painful and fatal outcome.

Krokodil, is the street name for desomorphine, is an injectable opiate with severe dermatologic effects. The drug is a codeine derivative. And to increase the addiction and hallucinogenic effects, toxic agents are added to the already dangerous substance. This is an older drug but one that is able to be manufactured at home within minutes. (Journal of Drug and Alcohol Dependence, 2017.)  The chemicals typically used to manufacture are paint thinner, gasoline, hydrochloric acid, iodine, red phosphorus (scraped off match striking boxes)  and/or white phosphorus (The American Journal of Medicine, 2014). This drug is considered semi-synthetic and is known as “poor man’s heroin” because of how cheap it is. The drug is about five times cheaper than heroin. These pills are comprised of codeine and acetaminophen tablets, which were OTC in Russia, and could be bought with $3.71 USD for 10 tablets. The tablets which are now not available OTC have raised the price to $15.46 (Journal of Drug and Alcohol Dependence, 2017.) To me, this is still extremely inexpensive compared to a lot of illicit drugs.

Its  street names “Krokodil”, “Crocodile”, “Croc”, “Flesh eating heroin” , “Drug of the poor” “Russian Magic” “Flesh-rotting drug” or “Krok” from the discolored green, black and flaking skin on users that resemble that of a crocodile. Users typically die from gangrene or other infections within 3 years.(Journal of Drug and Alcohol Dependence, 2017). Also, the toxic chemicals show up as skin necrosis, advanced pyoderma and ulcers that expose bone, muscle and tendons (opustreatment.com, 2024).

This is another drug that is so incredibly dangerous and deadly. This might be the one drug out there that I never have an interest in trying. Again, take what you can use and leave the rest. But most of all, I hope that you have learned about another illicit drug that can and does take down individuals and families that doesn’t discriminate on age, race, sex, gender or socioeconomic status. Stay safe and thanks for reading!

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Reality Of Staying Stuck

“Growth is painful. Change is painful. But, nothing is as painful as staying stuck where you do not belong.”

-N.R.Nargyana Murthy

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Today, I want to talk about something that everyone goes through called “staying stuck.” I, personally, can get really bogged down in my trauma at times as evidenced in my writing. And for a time, it is what it is. But staying stuck is a whole different thing.

”My sweet, sweet Sarah used to use this analogy about addiction recovery. She said, “There is a sidewalk. When you walk down the sidewalk you fall into a hole. You get back up and start from the beginning; walk down the sidewalk; falling into the same hole. And you keep repeating this same behavior achieving the same results. Unless you choose to go around that same hole by making different decisions then nothing changes.” What she was talking about is how in addiction nothing changes, if nothing changes. The same goes for relationships and personal growth.

In all of my years of therapy, I never saw how this applied until about eight years ago when someone took the time to continuously explain this concept to me. I can go along somewhat enjoying the ride of life and then I fall into a pit. Sometimes I can pull myself out pretty quickly and sometimes it just takes time to get back on track. This can and has been very frustrating to people who think that you can talk about topics in therapy and that should be the end of the issues. That is NOT how trauma and therapy works.

“And when you find yourself lost in the darkness and despair, remember it’s only in the black of night you see the stars.”

-Coach Whitey Durham, One Tree Hill

Everyday is a new day with a new set of challenges. And sometimes things that trigger my trauma come from all directions. The point is to continually move forward even if you can barely crawl and have battle wounds. This does NOT have a time limit. What takes others “x” amount of time to move through an issue might be crippling to me or vice versa. This does not mean that you are right and I am wrong. It is what it is. 

People who have never been in therapy this concept is inconceivable. Coach still works on me all the time about not staying stuck. That is her job. My job is having the willingness to continue being coached. If you have that type of mutual respect for both sides of the relationship, then there is no possible way for you not to win in the long run.

I have always and will continue to be coachable. Sometimes your thinker is just plain “broke” and you need someone who can see a situation objectively and tell you the honest truth. A lot of people can’t handle the truth and allow their egos to get in the way of progress. So, they leave therapy thinking that the therapist is being mean because their feelings were not cottled in a way that was comfortable. In that case, you would be better off cuddling with a stuffed animal.

“If you were born with the weakness to fall you were born with the strength to rise.”

-Rupi Kaur

Another thing that I have learned while working with coach, is that I am NOT responsible for other people’s feelings. I am responsible for only my own. If I’m struggling and others don’t like what they see, then it’s their problem not mine. My job is to continue moving forward in whatever way possible. Also, if you encounter relationships where one person is putting forth the effort to make the relationship work and the other person is refusing to own up to their own mistakes then the relationship will eventually fizzle out.

For so many years, I felt guilty for how other people felt good or bad. And I was made to feel that it was somehow my responsibility. In the same breath, I was told that whatever emotions or thoughts I was experiencing was a false reality. That is called gaslighting. I would assume responsibility for situations that were not mine. And I learned systematically not to trust my own thoughts and feelings because they were, in some way, always wrong. All I was left with was frustration and disappointments because I was trying to control a situation that was not meant to be controlled. I have also been given “rules” that the opposing person did not or would not honor in the same respect. I developed an anger about that which has taken years to try and work through. I still get triggered in relationships in that way. However, I am much more comfortable standing my ground and being very forthcoming about how the unequal balance of responsibility is unfair and unacceptable.

I have learned over time that people are sometimes only in our lives for a reason or a season then and they have served their purpose. I simply take time out of emotion to thank the universe for the blessings. I then thank the universe for sending them on their way. This can mean friends, acquaintances, co-workers, bosses and even family. I sometimes get stuck trying to force relationships that have run their course. However, I am now strong enough to stand by my convictions regarding the unequal balance of expectations with myself and others. I will not fight for a relationship when others decide that they don’t want to put forth the same effort. All the backbiting and manipulation that others use to try and control thoughts and behaviors is something that I have learned to identify. My personal trauma has taught me that drama is scary. And once that begins, I back out.

That does not mean that the feelings I experience are painless. It’s my choice to stay in those horrible feelings of anger and regret. It is also my choice to say, “I’ve had enough and I’m moving on.” Many times those decisions are very difficult. I will not try to hold someone captive if they don’t see where that the relationship is no longer beneficial, even if that’s family. I will trust that your decision is best for you. And I expect the same.

Life is not easy. Relationships are difficult on the best of days.  No one can make difficult decisions for you. And no one should expect for someone else to step in and run interference for you when things are difficult. I don’t want that and I don’t like that. It is just not how I operate. It’s essential for you to put on your “big girl/man panties” and handle things yourself. Instead of waiting for your “prince charming” to step in and do it for you. That is your responsibility not anyone else’s.

If you’re not in therapy, you probably need to be. Everyone can benefit from working on themselves to become a better person. Everyone can improve even if you think you have it all together. Most people fear therapy because of the element of the unknown. They also don’t want to have any part of therapy because they don’t want to be “analyzed.” Ummmm…that is a therapist’s job. So, stop coming up with excuses for why you fear facing your own imperfections. Therapy is not for the faint of heart. If you don’t have the intestinal fortitude to put forth the effort and face both the good and bad parts of yourself, then quit complaining when you feel inadequate. You have no one to blame but the person in the mirror.

Don’t go looking for a therapist that doesn’t challenge irrational thoughts in order for things to make you feel comfortable. That fosters a situation where you won’t grow but will, in turn, help you to remain stuck. The culmination of this blog is the idea that comfort zones are where dreams go to die. And at the end of the day if you are ok with your decisions, then proceed with life unapologetically. If not, there’s always tomorrow. As always, take what you can use and leave the rest. And thanks for reading!

“Challenges are what make life interesting; overcoming them is what makes life meaningful.”

-Joshua J. Marine

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

What are the Streets Saying? “Pharm Parties”

“It’s not the use of drugs that causes the problem. It’s the abuse.”

-Patrick Betsch

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie Dokie! I thought today that I would start by putting some information out there about some of the street drugs and other destructive things going on regarding addiction. Most have at one point in their lives done something incredibly stupid or dangerous in our teens. And I am no exception. I never learned my lesson and have continued to do so into my adult years.

One of the more dangerous things I’ve heard of doing are parties known as “Pharm Parties” or “Skittles parties.” This refers to pharmaceuticals. These are baggies of pharmaceuticals that are gathered from parents’ medicine cabinets and dumped into a large bowl and taken at random. This activity has been going on since the 60’s which was known as “fruit salad parties,” which warned against the dangers in an Ann Landers column. At that time, the behavior was said to be out of rebellion directed towards parents. This was rumored by saying that the pills were being hidden inside fruit which were mixed into actual fruit salads. Individuals ended up in hospitals and comas as a result. However, now it’s commonly done due to addictive behaviors.  (Slate, 2008). “Pharm parties” are silent killers that are also known to combine alcohol with the random concoction. While mixing medication is still dangerous, it’s still not any safer than taking a handful of any other type of medication. I have never personally attended one of these types of parties. Because I was always getting high by my own stash of medications. Nevertheless, it’s all dangerous.

These “parties” also involve Robo-tripping, which refers to using the cough suppressant medications like Robotussin or the like with other alcohol or drinking large amounts of the product. There is not a lot of evidence that these parties are widespread. However the abuse of prescription drugs among adolescents and college-age students is widespread. In relation to street drugs like heroin, cocaine and ecstasy, prescription drugs such as Ritalin, Adderall, Oxycontin and Vicodin tend to be cheaper and seem to provide the user with a false sense of safety. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention indicate that 55 percent of prescription drug abusers obtain prescription painkillers free from a friend or a relative, making it cheaper than purchasing a keg (Health.usnews.com, 2016.).

College parties have evolved from “keggers. And have now progressed to prescription drugs. Society now seems to normalize “popping pills” as a risky part of adolescent behavior. But what happens when this becomes an addiction? The goal of this post is to educate parents by teaching us to keep an eye on medicine cabinets. 

I will be writing more blogs related to topics about current trends regarding drugs and their misuse and abuse. Take what information you can use and leave the rest. But as I have said previously, the information is out there and ignorance can no longer be used as an excuse for behaviors that are taking the lives of ourselves and the ones we love.

“The abuse of prescription pills is a real thing. I understand that there are people that really need them and I understand that there are people that abuse them, and it’s just a gray line that unfortunately has to exist.”

-Channing Tatum

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

You’re Not My God

“At first, addiction is maintained by pleasure, but the intensity of this pleasure gradually diminishes and the addiction is then maintained by the avoidance of pain.”

-Frank Tallis

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Today I want to talk to you about a topic that is very near and dear to me. The topic is Addiction. I have been on all sides of this issue. I have been an addict that began to struggle early on in my teen years. I eventually went to get my bachelor’s degree in Psychology. Then onto getting my Master’s degree in counseling. And then went on to work in the field of addiction. And I have seen the havoc this problem has caused both in my own family and in other’s as well. 

As a thirteen year-old, I was subjected to horrible verbal and emotional abuse at the hands of a teacher. The abuse was absolutely the most stressful time of my life up until that point. I was given a set of rules that I had to follow that was not reciprocated by the adults who set them. I can’t tell you how emotionally and physically trapped I felt sitting in that closet and berated every single day for a year. I was also humiliated in front of my class of peers. I was also sent to the office with disciplinary forms for things that I did not do. That’s not to say that I was completely innocent. I would verbally strike out at that teacher a few times intentionally in order to get in-school suspension just to get a day or two break from her verbal aggression.  Knowing now how underdeveloped a child’s brain is in this time period helps me understand the whys and hows of this horrible behavior and how it begins and continues. 

My first time using it was during an emotional time that was so chaotic for me. The “perfect storm” had started brewing previously for approximately two years before I ever began. And as it appears, I wasn’t the only teen in my graduating class who would have some of the same struggles. I had suppressed a lot of the memories about my molestation at an early age. I always had a smile on my face and was laughing as much as possible. However, the underpinnings of addiction were looking for a way into my soul. And it would be the disaster that would follow me into my adult years. 

In my life, addiction would not begin as a few substances here and there recreationally like some stories. My situation presented itself at a time where I could no longer handle both the wait of depression and ongoing trauma. I felt emotionally that I was trapped and that no one was there for me in any way. So, I took my first opiates and I was in love. I would be in this type of committed relationship for many years to come. I didn’t see the horns and pitchfork that it carried. I saw it as the best friend that always provided relief and was non-judgmental. It was there to comfort me when comfort was not around. And for the moment, the evil words and actions of that teacher would be drowned out even if it was only for an hour.

I have had several people since then say to me, “Why didn’t you tell someone about what was going on?” The truth is I did and no one believed me. I told my principals but my reputation for being a “class clown” was apparently stronger than the actual truth. When the teacher received word that I had told them, nothing was resolved. The abuse only got worse. Eventually not only would I develop a chemical addiction, I would also have a process of addiction by way of self-harm and eating disorders.

When I began self-harming I was, once again, sent to the office only for the object that I had been stuck into my hand to be covered up and sent back to class. Once I got back to class, I was put on display in front of the class and made to feel less than once again. To those that always say that self-harm is “attention seeking” behavior I can tell you this. I never wanted a trophy for the number of scars that I wear on my body today. I wanted the pain to stop. Not every behavior is about a Tik-Tok or Facebook challenge. And it certainly wasn’t for me. Maybe it was a cry for help. However, those cries fell on deaf ears. 

I had begun to notice the amount of anger that was building inside of me daily. And I was scared to death of what that might look like if it ever got free. Sitting with those intense emotions might get buried for the moment, but they will surface. And no matter how much you try to further suppress them, they come out on whoever happens to be around when the “straw that breaks the camel’s back” gets laid down. The scars that you can now see are plentiful. But it’s the scars that you can’t see that outnumber the others by a long shot. 

I continue to struggle hard with addiction despite a vast knowledge and experience working with other addicts. Addiction isn’t something that you can outthink. And to those that think it’s about “willpower,” consider it “willpower” the next time you struggle with diarrhea. You cannot imagine the hold that it can have on you if you’ve never had that hold on you. And if you can socially drink and use and it doesn’t reach the point of addiction consider yourself lucky. The bad part is that you don’t know if you’ll become addicted until you try it. And I cannot think of a more perfect game of russian roulette to play. A little felt good. And a lot was not enough.

The fact that I have not died of addiction and others have left me in utter bewilderment. And yet I know that there is a bullet with my name on it each time I pull that trigger trying once again to just be comfortable in my own skin. Addiction is so cunning, baffling and powerful in ways that many don’t understand. And I have seen it ravage the lives of people and those they love to a point where my jaw drops. Even with all of that being said, I still don’t have a healthy fear of addiction. And I’m not sure that I ever will.

As a parent, I can only hope that my own children will choose a way that is more healthy even when times are difficult. And that if they are in some way being harmed that they won’t stay quiet and be covered in shame the way that bullies and perpetrators expect them to be. Get help immediately if you see that you or someone you love has an addiction. I have been in therapy for several years now and I still struggle with this horrible thing called addiction. The name just the label that is given to the substance or behavior that presents itself as a caring and compassionate friend that is waiting to cut our throats. 

“Recovery is not a race.You don’t have to feel guilty if it takes you longer than you thought it would.”

-Anonymous

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

I’m Only Human

“I am just a human being trying to make it in a world that is rapidly losing its understanding of being human.”

-John Trudell

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! I want to clarify one thing before I get into the topic for today.  This blog is more like an online journal of sorts. I write about things that affect me at this moment. Many topics repeat and that’s perfectly ok. Each thing I write about is in some way me moving forward even if at a snail’s pace. Trauma is not one of those things that you can talk about today and it will be gone tomorrow. Those who have never been in therapy or are from a generation where therapy was not an option don’t get this concept. And truthfully neither did I. Heck, even though I grew up in the 1980’s therapy was only for the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Nevertheless, the trauma still left its mark.

All of this has been a process that doesn’t have a set time limit. And to think that I can process some of these gut wrenching problems on Monday and then on Tuesday be able to say and believe that the hurt and pain won’t resurface is only a pipe dream that leads to disappointment. You have to have a therapist who is compassionate and patient to say the least. And with my coach that is exactly what I got.  And the time it takes to find a therapist that is a good fit sometimes involves more trauma.  And it certainly did for me. It took me over forty years to become dysfunctional to this extreme. So, to think that all of that can be wiped out with even a few years of intense therapy is very unrealistic.

 Today I want to talk about imperfection. The holidays are so incredibly stressful for me as with most people. I think it’s just all of the emotions of being around more people than I’m used to.  And when the Frat Pad is in full swing with our crew it can be exhausting.  Don’t get me wrong, I love hanging with my boys and friends. However, after all of the holidays are said and done I am completely exhausted.  Maybe it’s because when we are all together we are all on such an emotional high that when it’s all over with my mind and body say, “Dana, What the hell were you thinking?  You don’t have to do everything to extremes!” For the last several weeks I just can’t seem to get my energy back.  I can’t sleep. I have been in a horrible depression.

As a child we don’t really think about the concept of “imperfection.” We go through our little child life learning from our mistakes on a daily basis. And that’s the way it should be. As we grow, socially, emotionally and physically everything begins to change. We begin to form our own view of the world and expectations that we have for ourselves. Maybe it’s just a combination of societal, personal, environmental, and familiar experiences that begin to teach us that ‘perfection” is the only way to be.  Not all are affected in a negative way. 

My life was affected negatively because of my experiences. When you are very impressionable at a young age simultaneously, your brain is still underdeveloped. You begin to see life for what it is either negatively or positively. If you are exposed like I was to narcissists who only told me that no matter what I did, I would never be good enough, my life began to play out just like that. I learned very quickly that not being perfect meant that my life was not as worthy as others.  Little by little this core belief that I was inherently unworthy of good things continued to chip away at me until waking up every day became a punishment rather than a gift. And since  the age of 13, I have been chronically suicidal. I still completely disregard dangerous and impulsive behaviors that are very detrimental at the very least.

When I was married to my ex-husband he took my whole feeling of inadequacy and belief that I wasn’t worthy of love, acceptance and compassion to an all time high. Instead of taking the information that I told him about my life to show me everything that I had been missing, he used it as a weapon to have ultimate control over me. Not to mention that he was also nineteen years my senior. I was so naive that I held onto his every word as truth. The “truth” however was that he was and still is a very sick man who was also horribly abused by his father. And to my knowledge was NEVER told that he was loved by him. So, if he wasn’t in control including his perfectionistic ways then he felt completely out of control. And he perpetuated that abuse onto me.

One of his favorite things to tell me was, “I’m not the one with the mental history.” And the fact of the matter is this, he has never gone to see a therapist for any of his issues. His mental illness has just never been diagnosed. It doesn’t not mean that he doesn’t have a mental illness. Therapy also requires a level of rigorous honesty about yourself that he is incapable of being. I will be the first to tell you that therapy isn’t always fun. However, it is necessary regardless how far down the spectrum you may go. When I needed therapy in my teens therapy was not possible.  So, even though I began seeing a therapist in 2009 my work didn’t truly begin until about 8 years ago. At the time, I was undiagnosed with a very serious trauma related disorder that not just every professional knows how to treat.  It goes way beyond basic depression and anxiety issues. The problem was so much more complex than I had any concept to be able to understand at that time. And let me just point out that any level of depression and anxiety are in their own way completely miserable.

I had a therapist long ago tell me when I was in despair about always making mistakes tell me, “Welcome to the human race.” And I never understood what that meant until years later. I still make a lot of mistakes as a human being. I take as much as I can and I fall.  I still get angry and say hurtful things.  And I also still go to bed many nights with tears in my eyes. I’m now learning how to embrace my whole self mistakes and all. And I’m trying not to  let the opinions of those who bled out on me for crimes I didn’t commit determine my self worth. My  imperfection is what classifies me as being “PERFECTLY IMPERFECT.”

“I don’t have to be perfect. All I have to do is show up  and enjoy the messy, imperfect and beautiful journey of my life.”

-Kerry Washington

***Don’t forget to watch the video***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

“My Sarah, My Friend”

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal,love leaves a memory no one can steal.”

-Unknown

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today marks the 10th anniversary since Sarah died. Recently, I have done some work in therapy about her loss.  What I’ve learned is how traumatic events never seem to lose their power. While it’s always been very upsetting to me to live without her. Re-experiencing those moments with the full force of emotions is decapitating my soul. And I truthfully, had no idea that I carried that much emotional exhaustion.  

I have been asked before “why do you refer to her as like a God?” To me Sarah wasn’t just a friend. She was so many things to me. But most of all she was my hero. I sought her guidance as a struggling alcoholic/drug addict. But years later and the respect for a seemingly genuine woman progressed to a relationship where I experienced unconditional love and acceptance for no other reason than because I existed. I just needed someone who cared on all levels. And it was her.

I hungered for the peace that she seemed to carry around in her soul. I watched her from all angles and she was the most authentic person I had ever seen. And I was very intrigued. She was the same no matter where she went. Our very close relationship was like a “maternal mentor.” I wanted to learn everything I possibly could about her “road to peace and serenity.” There was a mutual space that we held for each other with the utmost respect. She was my “safe person.” 

We spent many hours talking about life and the broken roads we had both taken. And I saw how she had risen. And how I was barely breathing. Over the years she became my “Mr. Miyagi” and my “Yoda.” Every Time I was around her I learned another lesson about life. And it was exactly what I needed. And I flourished. I had begun to rebuild my shattered self-confidence, self-worth, self image and the idea that I was entitled to love, happiness and belongingness just like everyone else. 

I continued to struggle with addiction for a while. And Oh the boundaries. Anyone that knew her also knew that she was a boundary setting “queen.” Boundaries were placed before me many, many times. That was just something else that she taught me. 

It wasn’t “rules” coming from an authority figure with her. It was simply teaching me about boundaries and standing up when they are tested. And she also taught me about our own boundaries and why we deserve for them to be respected. I realized that my way of thinking was courtesy of generational patterns of insanity. She praised individuality, autonomy and authenticity.

I began to notice that I was changing.  My thinking, heart, conscience, was all changing for the better.  I needed the stability of someone who was loving and consistent. And I’m sorry but there are just not that many people like that who possess both qualities. And I thanked God everyday for the blessings I received that allowed me to be open enough to experience “love” for the first time since stepping onto the gravel of my broken road.  

I had, once again,  found that passion for life and the ability to succeed which was lost for many years. I began excelling as a student. And I realized that I was not too dumb to learn. And about the symbolism of the Phoenix in Greek Mythology. The symbol of the camel in 12-step recovery. And about living life on life’s terms. And about her walk with Jesus. And how life is about acceptance even if it’s not the hand that you wanted dealt. The woman I speak of I would’ve laid down my life for. And I still will at the speaking of her name.  

And when she died, I’ve been unable to move past my grief.  Instead I burned every bridge that I could. And I found dreams and ambitions in the safe confine of isolation slowly withering away. I guess over the years I never saw having to live life without her or her guidance.  But here we are. And her absence is more than I can bear.

I exist but I no longer live. I keep chasing the monster that keeps chasing me. Again I am the shell of who I used to be. Shouldn’t her memory and advice propel me past that? Shouldn’t living a life that I know would please her give me the energy to help me carry on?  Maybe. But my heart feels none of that. I am paralyzed by fear, grief, loneliness, sadness and debilitating depression. But I do have my memories. I guess sometimes, though, the wounds are just too great. 

“The absence of your loved one will lead to a profound wound of their loss that will never completely mend. But they will forever reside in your heart and will remain partially broken.”

-Unknown

***Don’t forget to watch the video at the end!!!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

When I Am Cut (Poetry)

Looking at me with that sharp and metal stare.

It smiles at me as if I was not there.

I know it sounds crazy but I’m not thinking about an end.

The one in the darkness that comforts me like a friend.

It came to my rescue when I was just a kid.

In that dungeon of a closet where she thought she had me hid.

The first time I did it , it brought me so much peace.

The act was automatic and I got a much needed release.

If you could see past my scars, I’m just another person.

You don’t know the hell I’ve experienced, its made me who I wasn’t.

He called me names and broke my spirit and said, “it is all my fault.”

But what he didn’t know, was that I was planning my next assault.

The towels and the bandages are always part of the game.

But when you look into my eyes, I’m just another name.

My story means nothing to most as they think it’s all a lie.

But I spent another 14 years just trying not to die.

The memories are so extreme but you don’t even care.

That’s ok I don’t need you because my blades are always there.

They comfort me in the morning and tuck me in at night.

Because it comforts me and brings me peace in this debilitating life.

Long sleeves in the winter and in summer too.

I don’t want you to see them because it’s the evidence of my truth.

You don’t understand it and I hope you never do.

This isn’t attention seeking behavior what if it was you?

#Thispuzzledlife

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

darnold1975

Nobody But Me Part 2

“To become authentic we require a thirst for freedom.”

-Don Mateo Sol

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. I love the smell of burning sage. Mentally it somehow provides a bubble that no one’s negativity can penetrate. Even if only for a moment.

I have been shamed by many entities, friends and family for being a lesbian. I have two superhero children that came out of that relationship with their other mom. And my children have also had that held against them as well. Was that selfish of us to bring children into the world knowing that? No. I believe that God saw that we had two children that were absolutely perfect for the situation. We brought those children into the world loving them and wanting to be parents. We have always told them that families look differently with race and gender differences. And is in no way right or wrong. It just is. I’ve also been asked, “Well, what if they come out as bisexual, gay or heaven forbid in a relationship with another race?” My response has always been, “Then what a great and very diverse family they will have to be a part of.” I have told my boys from the beginning, “I will never hold against you who you love. If you can find someone who truly loves you for who you are and respects you, go for it! I will have a problem if they are abusive buttholes.”


I lost my sanity trying to be what others told me that I should be. And being a part of the LGBTQ+ community oftentimes we are “forced” to make a family outside of our families of origin. Not as a choice but as a necessity. Me and my children have always been seen as less than. We have not been included or have been treated as “sloppy seconds” because of who I loved. And how they were conceived because personal beliefs on the topic.


I have watched people through the presidential election and the horrible crimes of P. Diddy destroy relationships. One thing I’ve learned is that I’m not going to agree with you and you will not agree with me. So, what’s the point of arguing just for the sake of arguing? However, what I have made abundantly clear is that if you see something done that’s illegal or wrong and don’t speak out, then you’re just as guilty. I have learned some very difficult lessons about being scared into silence. My life has been largely influenced by narcissists. And the only title that fits perfectly is “emotional vampires” and “masters of deception.” The narcissist that I was enslaved by always called himself “a local celebrity.” To put it very bluntly, these kind of people are very scary. And cause colossal damage to their victims.

It doesn’t matter if you’re from a small town, politician or celebrity. Wrong is wrong. I can spot a narcissist a mile away. And there is no place in a society that harbors these type of criminals that often operate in the shadows. Just because you don’t see them in this role, doesn’t mean that it doesn’t happen. They are more concerned with their image than your well-being. If you’re operating openly then I have even less respect for those individuals. That just tells me that you’re even more dangerous. The commonality between narcissists is the fact that their egos are much bigger and stands out from others. They feel that they are untouchable. And they also believe that money, popularity, fame and scare tactics keep them safe from others that oppose their stance. They are the “god” of their own universe. I have also had family members that are narcissists. Most don’t change because they don’t see themselves as doing anything wrong. The ones that do change only do so because of “scared straight” tactics. And the only thing you can do is keep your emotional distance.

The abuse, for me, only got worse when the doors were closed. If this doesn’t fit your opinions, then take what you can use and leave the rest. It’s the beauty of living in a “free society.” I speak only MY truth. And pain changes people. I’m not here to coddle anyone’s delicate feelings.


When I was a child, a teacher was allowed to unmercifully abuse me. Yes “ALLOWED!” I spoke with school administrators 20+ years later only to be told that they knew the abuse was going on but they couldn’t do anything about it. Let that sink in for a minute. They knew that a child was being abused and did nothing about it. I fought adults on my own. Not one adult stepped forward and said, “This is wrong! She’s a child and you’re committing crimes!” GUITY! GUILTY! GUILTY!


Granted the science about childhood trauma and its effects on adulthood functionality was in its infancy at the time. Unfortunately, I am only one of millions of adult children who now know the harsh realities of just how deeply abuse can effect someone. In this day and age, ignorance can no longer be used as an excuse. Science is everywhere. And so is the research and studied outcomes of how negatively shaming affects a person’s entire being.

I don’t try and paint life and this world as a beautiful oasis where nothing goes wrong. I don’t tell my kids many specifics about my trauma history. But make no mistake they know who “the mean man” is. And they know about that mean teacher that locked me in a closet. They also know, see and experience what it’s like to watch their mom struggle from the consequences of abuse. And also what can happen to another person when we don’t find a way to heal our own wounds. And if that makes me a bad parent because they are prepared for the difficulties of life, then so be it. I used to have a real complex about having a mental illness that is trauma induced. But then I realized that what I saw when I looked the eyes of my children was that I was raising advocates.


As a parent, my job is to protect my children as much as I possibly can. That does not mean smothering them with my own personal beliefs. We are to teach them how to think. Not what to think. Teach them how to make educated decisions. And sometimes allowing them that freedom is very difficult knowing that there is a great potential for growing pains. We learn through our mistakes or we don’t.


I allow my children to make their own decisions within reason. I tell them, “Here are your choices. Whatever your decision is comes with either positive or negative consequences. Make your decision.” When they come to Camp Frat Pad I tell them both, “If you want to stay up all night that’s fine. But, if you’re a butthole tomorrow you will get in trouble.” Both boys go to bed at a decent hour most of the time. I also allow them to have the freedom to dress and cut or not cut their hair anyway they want. All in an effort to assert their individuality.


That’s a dream that I wished I had been allowed to live. My individuality always seemed to have some type of constraints. I’m not the kind of person that conforms to social “norms.” I am very ok with who I am. And the more you try to force your hand and make me conform, the more I rebel. I will also not be a part of sitting idly by and watching my children be treated differently because they come from a minority family. How can I expect them to stand up for other individuals’s differences if I don’t stand up for them? I have watched many people claim that they’re one way. Then tuck tail and run when it comes to the statement that is not popular among others in their peer group. I’ve watched that many times. And those people will not admit to any wrong doing. They just want only you to change. I don’t need to change that part of me. I have no problem being gay.

I will not ever silence MY truth because of someone else’s uncomfortability ever again. My children are watching me to see if I am who I say I am. And that I am. Nothing more, nothing less. And I make absolutely no apologies for being authentic. Because I can’t be nobody but me!


“If you want to know where to find your contribution to the world, look at your wounds. When you learn how to heal them, teach others.”

-Emily Maroutian

***”Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

FB https://www.facebook.com/share/1AHuUU6q5f/?mibextid=wwXIfr

darnold1975

Nobody But Me Part 1


“To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make everybody else-means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting; and never stop fighting. Stay true to yourself, yet always be open to learning.”
-E.E. Cummings, A Poet’s Advice to Students


Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away! Ok that feels much better. This is a blog that I’ve been wanting to write for some time. For the last couple of months, I have been in a depression that has been absolutely debilitating. Maybe it’s been due to the stress of recent surgeries. Or maybe it’s been a combination of that and coming off all of my psych meds. Yes, you heard that correctly. I am now off of my meds and the mood swing has snapped! Run! Right or wrong. I took myself off in a rather drastic way. When I get an idea in my head that I’m going to do something, write it down. It will get done. Now I don’t advise coming off psych meds all at once. However, I wanted it done immediately. So, I put myself through absolute hell. I was so sick physically that coming off heroin would’ve been easier. Nevertheless, It’s finally over. And things mentally and physically have come alive again. And I do mean everything.


I remember looking at myself in a mirror saying, “Well hey you! Where have you been?” I don’t have any problems with the idea of antidepressants or any other type of psychiatric meds. For me, though, I was tired of taking them and constantly having to worry about copays to community mental health providers that I truly didn’t have the extra money to afford. I have also been on the state’s cannabis program for a couple of years with the goal of one day coming off those other meds. I’m just too impatient to go through the slow process of convincing professionals to continue tapering. And being that I’m a “street pharmacist”, I just decided to do it myself. I still struggle with severe insomnia that has somewhat plateaued at the moment. My cannabis spreadsheet is finally complete! Which means that I now tailor my “green meds” to what I need. Instead of also having to factor in traditional meds and their side effects. This might not work for everyone. So, do you boo-boo.


What this has also done is find the backbone that I knew I once had. Antidepressants make you much more tolerant of criticisms and everyday frustrations. Now I just smoke a bowl or do a few dabs and it does the same thing instantly. One thing that I’m constantly having to adjust is medication for pain management. That, in itself, has been quite the adjustment.

Doctors, no matter the issues, are just not willing to help with pain management enough to help keep people comfortable. I didn’t say keep them high or addicted. With “Big Pharma”, though, that’s how they line their pockets.

While living in New Mexico and Texas, my lack of pain management led me straight back to the streets. And that always leads to either jails, rehabs or the grave. There’s just too much Fentanyl out there for my comfort level. I can honestly say that being on the cannabis program previously and now that my addiction issues have not reared their ugly heads in this area of my life. Trust me, when addiction wants to take me, I go seemingly very willingly. In other areas of my life I am still in the grasp of addiction. Regardless, life continues to be brutal. And parenting doesn’t get easier either. It just has new challenges.


In therapy, everything ebbs and flows. Sometimes it’s easier than others. And sometimes you seem to plateau. Recently, I have had my most painful trauma hit me at my weakest point. I was literally awake for five days and crazy as hell. I know what a fabulous time to abandon medication and its requirements. I have always taken the difficult road in life that this time was no different. Dangerous? Probably. To me, doing things safely just takes way too long. And I’m not willing to wait.


I have always been a people pleaser. I have done what others wanted regardless of what I wanted to do. I felt that I have always needed to somehow strive for perfection that could never be attained. I’ve always tried to be for others, losing the vision for who and what I’ve wanted and needed to be. I’ve attempted to be straight knowing full well that I’m not. I have dressed in ways others wanted me to. Acted in ways expected of me. I kept my hair cut in ways to only pacify others. And I lost myself in the process.


I won’t ever say that “coming out” has been an easy process. It’s very different for every person. It’s probably the most difficult process I’ve ever had to go through. And more painful than you can imagine. Think about this for a second. If you wake up in the morning as someone who is sexually “heterosexual”, imagine what you would do if someone told you, “No, you must be gay.” You can try and do your best to be gay. You might even speak the lingo. But in your heart, you have always been straight. You just can’t be gay no matter what you are told or what you are shamed for. So, one day you just stand up and say, “I don’t care what gender you think that I should be with. I’m not nor have I ever been gay!” Imagine how freeing that would feel, for once in your life, to be who you know that you are. If you can’t comprehend a scenario like this then be glad you can’t.

It’s kind of like individuals who don’t understand why the LGBTQ+ community has gay pride celebrations. How many times have I heard the comments like, “Well we(straight) don’t have “straight pride” celebrations.” The Stonewall Riots were not about having “Straight Pride.” They were about the freedom of being a member of the LGBT community without the fear of being arrested. The idea of “straight pride” is ignorant. And you will look stupid trying to argue that point. So don’t get jealous every year when June rolls around and all of the rainbows, glitter, unicorns and individual pride colors come out and the LGBTQ+ communities are beautiful and flamboyant. Be glad that you don’t have a reason to celebrate “Straight Pride.”

I “came out” in my 30’s as gay. This has presented many problems including lost relationships, shunning by family members and loss of jobs. The list goes on and on. And so do the whispers and backbiting. As scared as I was to make that step forward, I did it! And I have NEVER regretted my decision a day since. I finally stood up and proclaimed who I am! People will call you all kinds of names. It’s the ones you answer to that counts!


“Authenticity is the daily practice of letting go of who we think we’re supposed to be and embracing who we are.”
-Brene Brown

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Pain That Never Ends

“Living with chronic pain is like trying to get comfortable on a cactus sofa.”

-Sean Mackey, Professor of Pain Medicine at Stanford

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away! Ready. Set. Blog! This is a blog that I’ve needed to write for a really long time. The topic of chronic pain affects every area of my life.

I feel that having both mental and physical pain is too much to ask of a person. I’m not talking about the aches and pains of aging. If that were the type of pain that I experience, I would have no reason to complain. My pain started as a young child with horrific leg pain that would have me in tears. I vividly remember my parents rubbing my legs complimented with a heating pad in order for the tears to stop falling just long enough to fall asleep. And there were no guarantee that I wouldn’t wake up during the night in the same miserable condition. The pediatrician said that the pain was simply “growing pains.”  Could this physical pain have been a result of the trauma that I was experiencing? Maybe. Eventually, I would seem to outgrow the leg pains. In the late 1970’s and early 1980’s maybe there were no other answers. And I can accept that. Subconsciously, no one believed me because the depth of my pain couldn’t be seen. However, the mark that was left on the psyche of a small child is one that has left a permanent mental disfigurement.

The next time I remember pain being an issue was as a 13-year-old. The traumatic situations that were occurring left me with horrible headaches. It was at the time that I began having suicidal ideations. The one consistent message coming from my “loud thoughts” was that I wasn’t worthy was unworthy of life. The trauma of that year continues to pound the same messages in my daily life. I just couldn’t see a way out in any direction. It was one agonizing day after another for an entire year. And again, no one believed me. I would also suffer a kneeinjury that I’ve never been about to truly recover from. I’m still dealing with it now in my late forties. When you abuse a child mentally, it’s so easy for them to believe it. To deal with it all, I began “grasping at straws” trying to find 5 minutes of relief. And I did! I found drugs, alcohol, eating disorders and self-harm.

Then I moved into high school. But the previous year continued to torment me. Not only was I caught up in the cycle of addiction, but I was also starting to die from them all. Anyone who says that addiction isn’t painful are lying. It doesn’t matter what type of addiction. It might not seem to hurt in the moment. However, if you are a human being with a conscience, it will hurt at some point. And when it did, I kept using “it” out of guilt and shame. My hopes and dreams were going down the drain. And I had no idea how to make it all stop. I wasn’t my own boss anymore. It was my boss. I would also have another knee surgery, maybe two. And then, I met him…

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.”

-Anne Lamott, author and writing teacher

***Don’t forget to watch the video below! ***

 #Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Fear Of Eating Is Real(poetry)

Fear Of Eating Is Real
Food is a topic that makes me very sad
And I barely remember of normal days I had
He took away a relationship that was full of hope
Now when someone says food all I say is Nope!!!
His words constantly criticized me so much decisions come with tears
It hasn’t happened for days but for many, many years.
I’m scared to eat because he was there for a long time
Right over my shoulder to criticize me while I ate every single time
I want to be able to eat without solitude and tears.
In private I’ve eaten food for many years
Most take this action for granted and just eat with nothing to say
But the person I was abused by never had anything nice to say anyway
So, don’t make comments while I try to learn this skill
Because the fear of eating food is something that’s for real.
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Angry Addict

The Angry Addict

Sometimes I find things that I’ve written but haven’t published on my blog. This is one of those writings….
There was a day when an angry addict walked through a treatment center door. A break from a harsh life and there would be many more. The addict was still a person, but we would prove to be one heck of a chore. Compassion was what she was craving, and her heart screamed, “More, more, more!”
This professional she was different and left judgement at the door. The patient she was also different, but she was never a bore. The pain was written all over that addict’s face. Turn her inside out and trapped inside was a very hurt child that simply needed some grace.
The addict asked, “What do you want? And why do you care?” With confidence, dark eyes and long black hair she answered, “Because you’re talking to someone who has already been there. I can tell someone has hurt you and I want you to tell me about it.” Like a puppy this grown child followed behind that confident swagger.
This one she was different, and the addict could tell. Talk about mean people from her past and present? Why did it even matter? Because when you walked in, I could recognize that war fought tattered look. He made off with your sanity like a cold and heartless crook. Wheat he showed was not love and I’m telling you the truth. You were at the mercy of a dark man and when he’s done is called abuse. I want to know the things they all did to you. Look into my eyes and know that love lives here not abuse.
We’re going to be serious for a moment so put the jokes, smiles and laughter away. My heart and stomach seemed to find that familiar sting that no one could make go away. I can see in your eyes that you’ve be battling for years. Drip, drip, drip and the grief poured out in a flood of uncontrollable tears. Gently she said, “Let me and others love you until you can love yourself.” Know that not all people hurt you like you’ve done to yourself. She saw the addict’s heart was as raw as her arms. And told her, “You can trust me because I love, and I will not hurt you.”
The 90 days in treatment had come and gone. And now she would return to her abusive home. But someone cared about what she had been through. As she made her way to the exit she heard, “Take care of yourself. You know I think you’re different.” And then the quick reply, “And so are you.”
Five years later the addict was a student and doing exactly what she said she would do. And one day she called that professional out of the blue. Months went by and their relationship grew from a “random connection” that was true. She finally got the courage to tell that husband, “We’re through.”
Days and nights where she would learn from her compassionate teacher. Yoda was teaching her now “open-hearted” adult kid because she knew how to reach her. A visitor to their house was confused about who I was, and I said, “I’m just a close friend.” The professional known as Sarah being as serious as she could be. She looked at the visitor and said, “No she’s our daughter.” I thought wait that’s me.
She told me one day, “Dana, remember this about how he treated you……
“Not everyone can see the good in a person because they’re always looking for their faults. He missed seeing the reasons we love you and that was his fault. If you see past cuts and scrapes on your skin and can look through all the bones and into your chest and hurting heart and under the thick layers of material that help to encapsulate your that fragile heart is a secret space and in that space is some material that’s growing and bubbling over and saturating your chest cavity with something called personal beauty. And that’s what we see and love you for every day.”
Our mother/daughter relationship grew into one that survived off promises, goals, loyalty, love and mutual respect. She was my personal definition of safety. But the day would come when she would be ripped from my protective grip. By an unforgiving disease that could careless who’s heart it would strip. My heart that was wide open began sounding the retreat back behind those protective walls never again to repeat.
But my heart never lets me forget that horrible day. I went when I was called home to the hospital because of promises we both made. And when it was time, I sat at her feet knowing that soon her maker she would meet. With my heart breaking and tears rolling down my cheeks. I took one big final gasp of air with her not knowing how I could just be.
She was my everything and I was her adult kid. How lucky I was to be with her when I felt her leave. “Dana if you ever get stuck not knowing what to do. Do the next right thing and hit your knees if you choose.” Her words still guide me with her presence gone. And I would give anything for her to pick up that phone. I want her approval either right or wrong.
A year and a half later when more bad things happened and the continual hemorrhaging of a once loveable heart. And a mind and body that had continued in a war. We entered the doors of another treatment center and dragging the leftovers of what used to be a human behind me. And a day later we would meet our new professional and something internally would change.
Angry at people for being hurtful and hating this lonely life without Sarah, I began striking out at everyone and everything even those that loved me. I wanted someone or something to pay for taking her away. Relationships began falling like the twin towers. I swore that no on would get close to me for very long without me destroying the relationship just so I wouldn’t have to feel that bad and scared ever again. Sarah was still somewhere close, but I was fighting mad. But this new professional we met with fire and venom never flinched. I tried everything I could to push her away. But the next time I felt Sarah this is what she would say, “Dana leave her alone because she is one that will stay. I picked her out for you and she’s who you need starting today. She’s the one you need. So, make it happen and move there.” That wasn’t what I wanted to hear because I wanted to prove my point that she would leave like everyone else. Mad I was and madder I got because I didn’t want anyone else to love me and leave.
So, I called up Texas and again found the one that would stay. Whatever I do I just can’t let her get away. She is the last gift I felt my Sarah give. And now she’s working with this angry and very hurt adult kid. The kid screams and silently cries about what others did. For she isn’t bad she’s lost and confused. And wanting her Sarah to hold her while she’s lost and confused. That angry teenage heart that still cries tears of blood. But again, she ran into a wall of pure love.
The pain of losing Sarah has been more than I could bare. But move to Texas I did because she’s never led me astray. I don’t want people to love me so why did I move here? Because I’m that same kid that despite knowing the harsh reality of life that has hurt me so bad. Texas is still better than the desert no matter what “things” I don’t have.
Texas hasn’t been easy, and no one said it would. But we’ve been pulled along by the little engine that could. No one knew what compassion and love can do. But to heal you must expose the bad and the good stuff too. And just for taking time to listen as you always do. Coach this angry kid wants to personally thank you.
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

What IF?

What If……

“What” and “If” are to words as non-threatening as words can be. But put them together Side-by-side and they have the power to haunt you for
The rest of your life.”
—Unknown

These are two words that haunt me day in and day out. I think “what if” I had never tasted abuse in any kind of way. “What if” I had never crossed paths with likewise hurt individuals who decided to keep the cycle of abuse going? “What if” my career had never ended? “What if” I had never been exposed sexually in ways that make me wretch at just the thought? What if I had never met Sarah? What if I was never was able to be privileged enough to call myself a parent? What if? What if? What if?!!!!!!
Recently, coach has asked me to think about a few things. How am I exhibiting behavior showing that I’m still a victim and still under the control of my perpetrators? This is a very loaded question. Every day I seem to allow myself to be chained to a past that wants me more than I want it. However, I’m an addict in ever since of the definition and word. I still struggle with eating and self-harm issues. Every meal I skip, every time I purge and every time I engage in any kind of maladaptive behavior, I am still being their prisoner.

change the world

Do I consciously want to remain there’s? Hell no. The addict in me still wants the comfort of the blades and the pain as justification for what they did and for mistakes I have made. God how sick does that sound? These behaviors are what have always been there for me. With them I’ve never been lonely. I gain absolutely nothing more than additional isolation by staying chained to them so why do it?
So now I sit and ponder what life could be like IF I wasn’t still their victim? The only way to look at that is the direct opposite to how I feel living now. I would be one that lived life with passion. Life would be such a gift. I wouldn’t be living life scared and tortured by my memories and feelings. I could live life enjoying being around my wife and children. I would simply be an active member of society instead of a prisoner of my past.
I still have a lot of hurdles to overcome and self-harm in many different forms are behaviors that still stick with me. When the adults ganged up on me? My razors were there. When I was raped repeatedly. My razors were there. When I was put on display to be made fun of a belittled….my razors were there. I get up every morning just to try again. So, if I continue to engage in addictive behaviors and thinking I’ll remain their slave…BUT WHAT IF?
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Cunning, Baffling and Extremely Powerful

Cunning, Baffling and Extremely Powerful

“Addiction is committing suicide on the installment plan.”
–Anonymous

In the year 2019, I feel confident in saying that most people and families have been affected by addiction in some way. Whether it be a family member, close friends or possible yourself who has been touched in one way or another by this terrible and very progressive disease. Personally, I’ve seen addiction run through the lives of many families and individuals leaving a path of destruction that Hurricane Katrina herself couldn’t hold a candle against. And addictions of various kind continue to devastate both my mind and body.

Often people relate addiction to only chemicals be it drugs or alcohol. A lot of times it is the assumption that physical dependence compounded by withdrawal symptoms is required for someone to be diagnosed with an addiction disorder. With chemical addiction this is true. In behavioral addictions i.e. gambling, sex, shopping, internet, self-harm, workaholism, etc. the behavior also progresses until negative consequences occur as well. Specific process addictions, in my life, are anorexia, bulimia and self-harm. I’m sure there are others but currently these are my biggest and most destructive. Where the mentioned behaviors are and have been a problem since childhood.

the abyss

Education about addictions, in general, has come quite far from the days of the Temperance Movement specifically due to alcohol consumption of the early 19th century. Stigmas have lessened since then. However, process addictions still have a pretty heavy stigma attached to them due to pure ignorance. One of the things that I do that keeps me sick in my disease is my uncanny ability to minimize any and all addictive behaviors that I engage in. I can tell that I have nerve damage in my forearms from 30+ years of cutting them with razor blades. My left shoulder has nerve damage from a self-inflicted gunshot wound several years ago. My internal systems have no telling what wrong with them from all the years of purging and heavy restricting by starving my body and ridding it of food.
Other behaviors that are considered an addiction for me are shopping, huffing chemicals and using belts to play “The Choking Game” until I pass out. All the addictions mentioned are ones that can individually kill me at any point. I will minimize them to justify to myself another reason to do it again just like any drug addict or alcoholic. I will come up with any reason to engage in these behaviors just to be able to get through a moment of uncomfortable feelings. I truly do my best trying to cope with all these things, but coach won’t let me slide unlike my internal addict that justifies yet another reason to keep going.

I have struggled many years and have kept my addiction alive. No matter the reason, there is always at time and a number that has my name written on it when it will be my last. It’s almost like dodging bullets knowing that one has your name on it. I wish I had a healthy fear of these behaviors, but I don’t. I fear the uncomfortable feelings and visions more than I fear dying from addiction. Each day I pray and yearn for the day that I’ll be able to live life without such horrible feelings. Who knows? Maybe the life I have dreams about being a part of could one day be possible if I would just get out of my own way.

“Every habit he’s ever had is still there in his body, lying dormant like flowers in the desert.”
—-Margaret Atwood

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Once Again (Poetry)

Once Again
7.30.19
I laugh a lot, but no one sees
How much these visions torment me?
Fight as I may, I have yet to win
Screaming loudly, “No! Not Again!”

God might frown but the devil smiles
He knows his influence on this broken child.
Forward I still go but no one sees
My limping, hurting and the pain that pushes me.

How do I succeed whilst in his mouth of flames?
I’ve tried and tried with very little gain
Can’t anyone plainly see?
How my demons are killing me?

I say, “Yes!” and they say, “No!
We will beat this crazy and very useless ho.
But try as I may spilling heartbroken tears;
All this happening year-after-year.

Prayers are spoken but no one sees
This desperate girl inside me begging Please!!!
To help me stop this destructive path
How many more times can I survive their wrath?

The people who help have grown weary as well.
How can I continue to drag them through my personal hell?
All the while I silently scream, “help but don’t leave!”
The message is constant “Then let us help you please!”
I don’t know how to let you love me and teach me knew things
Please let me be the puppet on a string.

I listen and try the best that I can
Can I start over and learn to let people love me again?
Answers unknown and fears cover my heart
Can I possibly let you mold me like a beautiful piece of art?

This little girl desperately wants to live
But how much more can I take and are you still willing to give?
I’m not greedy and want everything from you.
God, the universe, The Great Spirit says I’m not through.

Don’t give up as everyone has and I apologize for
being such a hardheaded jackass.
Compassionate and caring more than anyone has ever been
Please try drilling through my thick skull once again.

By: Dana Landrum-Arnold
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

“Hey Pot. This Is Kettle.”

“Hey Pot, This Is Kettle”

“I decry the injustice of my wounds, only to look down and see that I am holding a smoking gun in one hand and a fistful of ammunition in the other.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

One thing that most people will tell you about me is that it’s hard to have any kind of a relationship with me unless you have thick skin or can separate behavior from the truth. Why is this? Well, I can only say what I believe to be the truth. I most often self-sabotage relationships in order to keep from getting hurt. This doesn’t mean that the person I sabotage the relationship with did anything wrong. Sounds odd? Trust me it is.
So much of my life has been about wearing masks that being on the hunt for my authentic self is proving very difficult. Everything about relationships scares me. I fear people leaving and/or dying. And I also fear people hurting me. Not so surprising if you take note of my trauma history. Confusing for me and other people yes. What makes me angry is that before all the chaos in my life began relationships held very high priority for me. They were never replaceable. The relationship that I had with that person was as individual as they are.

When this sabotaging happens it’s because I’ve gotten scared. Either the person has seen someone other than “the clown.” When people begin to see me as someone other than that friend they like to hang out with and laugh I get very scared. Because in my experience those that see the nice side of me first might leave me at the first sign of trouble. I fear judgement. And I fear their rejection if they don’t like the truth. So, instead of just waiting to see the outcome, I control the outcome.

pot calling kettle black

I had good relationships at one that that once they saw the effects of abuse on me, they run. Once they’ve seen the scars, been around my extremely intense mood shifts and paranoia they leave. As a result, I bought into the belief that “I wasn’t worthy of good relationships because everyone leaves eventually.” This in turn adds fuel to the fire of self-hatred and my self-harm escalates. Next relationship the cycle continues until you get tired of the painful emotional toll that it takes, and you become a prisoner of to your home to keep from having contact with people out of fears. I then sabotaging through self-harm and isolation further worsening my condition. This then leads to more depression and anxiety and lack of social stimulation. Therefore, anytime I try to be around other people, in public, the overstimulation is just too much because I live a rather bland existence.

This is something that coach and I face with me. Not to mention the scared alters always paranoid and looking for danger at any turn. But I continue to work towards a more permanent solution so that I can keep meaning relationships in the future. First, I must get used to being in public around people and all the different verbal and visual stimulation of everyday life. Fingers and toes crossed that this goes well. I can promise you that I win the “Most Harded” award every year.  Not something to brag about but always true.  I always chuckle when I tell someone that they’re being hardheaded. Their response, “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” All I can say, “Why yes, it is.”
#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Mommy Hole (Poetry)

The Mommy Hole (Poetry)

I Started out as a tiny little seed
Not knowing there would be adults I would need.
I grew and grew as a little baby girl
Eventually having hair that she was supposed to curl.

When I was born, she gave me away
Why was it then that she chose not to stay?
That was a pain I would never forget
Hoping that she hadn’t really left.

In my soul she left a “mommy hole”
Not knowing that her decision would forever affect my soul
I looked for her left and looked for her right
But something also never felt right.
This hole was gaping, and I just couldn’t see
What I could’ve possibly done to make her leave me?
The hole would be filled with all things bad
Drugs, alcohol, razors and belts were now what I had.

My mom and dad there was nothing they could do
Because this was a struggle between only two.

My dream was to find her and to patch that awful wound.
But that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.
I tried to find her for the answers I needed.
My heart was scared, and warnings weren’t heeded.

The day finally came when we would meet face-to-face.
Please dear birth mom doesn’t do it twice
The answers were given and not what I wanted.
And now, as an adult, I would forever be haunted.

She didn’t love me like everyone said she did
How could you possibly hate you overgrown kid?
The cold blew over me and froze my beating heart
Making it difficult for anyone to soften that which had hardened.

And today I sit before you as a 43-year-old adult child
Still wanting and needing to be softened and nowhere near meek and mild.
You gave me life and that’s all you did
But you still have love waiting for you by your lost adult kid.

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The Day I Was Born (Poetry)

The Day I Was Born

The day I was born everyone would see the baby isn’t she cute just look at her feet!

But what they didn’t know was already done

I had been given away like I was a toy gun.

You are a gift from God my parents would say

But this little girl didn’t see it that way.

Oh….she was young and she loved you so

This I hoped for but I needed to know.

I searched and longed for you every day of my life

Ballgames, ceremonies where could she be this is causing such strife.

The void that was left it couldn’t be filled.

Alcohol, razors, shopping and lots and lot of pills.

The primal wound is what it’s called

Nothing can help this pain at all.

I found someone that helped me understand the hurt.

She was my Yoda and now she’s under the dirt.

The day I finally met you I didn’t know how to feel.

This was the moment I’ve waited for and now the records would be unsealed

Questions were asked and answers were given.

What you said to me…Are you freakin’ kiddin’?

464

This grown little girl finally got to meet her bio mom.

The little girl was so happy until that mom dropped the bomb.

“You were an inconvenience and I was mad at your dad.”

Really was that all the feeling you had?

The thoughts of hope and healing were once again gone

She hated me because I was me and I again felt all alone.

This new wound was more painful and I put my head in my hands and cried.

Because she didn’t love me like they said, it was all a big lie.

My soul felt abandoned it was dark and cold.

But this time I was not a baby I was 31 years old.

When I got home I just needed to be held

But instead he said, “just think about it she’s

 the one got rid of you” was all that was said.

Every day since I replay that same scene

Hoping that what she said was all a bad dream.

But I know what I heard on that cold wintery day

The woman that gave me life hated me in every kind of way.

When December rolls around I shoot daggers at that date

Because I don’t like celebrating the day I was given away.

I don’t know if I’ll ever make peace

Because She hated a baby for having a heart beat.

By: Dana Landrum-Arnold

#thispuzzledlife

 

darnold1975

Life With The Plant

Life With The Plant

“It doesn’t have a high potential for abuse, and there are very legitimate medical applications. In fact, sometimes Marijuana is the only thing that works… It is irresponsible not to provide the best care we can as a medical community, care that could involve Marijuana. We have been terribly and systematically misled for nearly 70 years in the United States, and I apologize for my own role in that.”

—- Dr. Sanjay Gupta / Neurosurgeon

Where our society and medical professions have advanced from the days of lobotomies, bloodletting, hydrotherapies and many other dehumanizing ways of treating mental illness, many attitudes and stigmas still remain the same.  And still, there are those affiliated with religion that seem to think that mental illness is punishment for moral transgressions.  And yes, I have also been told that even though trauma induced, my alters are actually demons that do not deserve a voice but should be cast out instead.  I chalk a lot of this up to ignorance but still the target was me.

While living in Albuquerque Mel and I would come to realize, unbeknownst to us at the time, the complications that living with a mental illness would entail.  I had lived with severe depression and anxiety since childhood which few people from school days realize.  Even as a child and teenager I was well liked and was one of the favored clowns much like today.  Before we left Mississippi there was very clear evidence that something was definitely wrong.  Finally, breaking free of a 14 year abusive relationship just seemed to complicate life more than either of us could’ve ever imagined.

131

Albuquerque was a place where we could break free from the overly conservative south to have a relationship and family, or so we thought.  With each passing day, though, my “quirkiness” would soon take on a life of its own.  By the time our oldest, Marshall, was born it was like the flood gates had been opened.  We were already seeing a very loyal and trusted therapist.  I was now losing time for days and weeks.  I was hallucinating and becoming increasingly suicidal and my behavior was becoming more erratic and at times very scary.  I had also started becoming very aggressive which led to horrible rages.  The scariest part about it all was that I had no memory of these things happening.

The level of trauma that I held within me was now bursting at the seams to a point that I couldn’t contain it.  The harder I tried, the more I failed.  I was seeing a psychiatrist and had run the gamut of psych meds and their subsequent unpleasant side effects trying to find some combination that could provide me, Mel and our new little baby some relief.  I had been given several different diagnoses that never quite seemed to fit.  And each time I would have to be hospitalized the re-traumatization just grew in intensity.

I eventually became toxic from all of the meds and was seen in the emergency room because the doctors thought that my kidneys were shutting down or that I might’ve had a stroke.  I was admitted to the hospital but the next morning the doctor that came to see me was yet another psychiatrist.  Again, it seemed, no one wanted to believe us.  I politely told him he could leave and that I was going to leave as well since nothing was being done and the bill was going higher and higher.  Mel and I left the hospital completely defeated and our trust in the system that was designed to help was becoming depleted.

610

Mel would soon begin capturing some of my strange behaviors on video in order to show the doctors exactly what was happening.  Doctors and other professionals still didn’t seem to believe us despite the captured evidence.  No one believed that it was possible to have these types of  behaviors and  to not be able to remember doing them.  When Mel would show me the videos and tell me other things that I had done, I was appalled.  There’s no possible way that I was treating her or our new baby this way.   In some instances, after seeing the footage, I would collapse with grief.

After returning to my psychiatrist following the debacle in the hospital he said, “Hey, how about we try the medications again?”  I simply replied, “You’re crazier than I am if you think I’m going through that shit again.  I almost died from your pharmaceutical poisons.”  Psych meds didn’t help they seem to complicate and exacerbate my symptoms but most of the time left me feeling “robotic” and unable to feel anything. That’s when I was put on medical cannabis and it has been a lifesaver every since.  Anytime, I’ve had to be hospitalized for mental health issues I ALWAYS refuse the medications unless absolutely necessary like for sleep.  The meds have never helped me because most of the time I feel so bad from the side effects of the adjustment period that I’ll just quit taking them.  They simply made me a “chemistry experiment.”

For the first time in my life, I was able to have some type of quality of life while we searched endlessly for someone that could treat my complex traumatic past.  Cannabis has its limitations just like any other medications.  But, for once, something was actually working and “Big Pharma” just couldn’t compete with nature.  These days I don’t ask for permission or have the willingness to wait on an already corrupt government and the decisions of the narcissist clown that currently runs the country to tell me when it’s ok to have a quality of life.  I just simply do what I have to do to survive the best way I know how and most psych meds are still not a part nor will they ever be a part of that formula ever again.

I have taken much criticism for using cannabis as a medication to treat PTSD.  Again, it’s ignorance that seems to fuel these criticisms.  Until you have almost from synthetic medications then maybe an alternative way doesn’t seem feasible. Even as a recovering addict I have yet to have a single problem related to addiction with cannabis.  Hands down this plant has and is continuing to save my life from some incredibly debilitating symptoms.

231

For some people cannabis seems to be the only answer.   I take a medication that can replace any combination of psych meds.  There are those times, though, when symptoms seem to just shoot through the medicinal ceiling of the plant.  And this is when I will usually have a backup plan for anxiety meds and sleep meds.  Some people mistakenly think that medical cannabis “cures” PTSD.  I politely tell them that it’s a medication just like any other medication to treat the paralyzing “symptoms” of the disorder only it’s much safer and works better for me.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t have the ability to “unbreak the plate” of the traumas that caused the PTSD to begin with.  You still have to do therapy.  You still can’t go around the issue to reach a resolution.  Painful as it might be the only way for that to happen is to work through it.  Cannabis helps with the very frightening flashbacks, migraines, insomnia, anxiety and any other unpleasant symptom that can lead to suicidal thoughts and behaviors.  So while the presidential pumpkin and his posse are busy playing politics and searching for the next horrible hairdo. I’ve got therapy and a lifetime of trauma to work through.  I and many others don’t have the luxury of being able to wait for them to get finished rolling around in the bed with “Big Pharma” and pass federal legislation so that this medication is legal everywhere. I, not anyone else, will die from my PTSD symptoms unless they’re controlled.  Sadly, many people, as well as, returning soldiers have died by their own hand because of lack of access to a medication that can save lives in so many different ways.

I will always back this highly stigmatized and demonized plant that has helped give me some type of quality of life despite some people’s ignorance about the topic.  My wife will tell you that being put on the cannabis program has saved my life.  And even though functionality still fluctuates heavily sometimes from the disorder itself, it’s still so much better than it could be and has been thanks to a plant called exactly what it is….weed.  Cannabis has had such a positive impact on my life that living without it seems inconceivable.  And the only side effects I have to worry about these days are sleepy, happy and hungry.

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

“Bruised Inside”

“Bruised Inside”

“You’re gonna have to go through hell, worse than any nightmare you’ve ever dreamed.But when it’s over, I know you’ll be the one standing.  You know what you have to do.  Do it!”

—Coach Duke, Creed

In my blog I repeat several different views about the abuse I went through.  It might be from a different angle but repeating will inevitably happen.  If this is a problem then read elsewhere because this blog is about MY healing and when I’m struggling or laughing about something worth sharing, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

This is a great therapeutic tool that I developed out of necessity several years ago.  At that time, it seemed to be just what I needed that listened and was non-judgmental to whatever problem I would write about.  Whatever the issue was, I wanted and searched for my answers to some of my strange behavior at times.  I was simply searching for where the “old Dana” went and who in the heck was this “new Dana” in many different pieces that is trying to emerge?

IMG_1630

The one part of life that I’m very strong in is protective instincts.  This means protecting those I love even if the protection is from me.  I can’t say that I love someone and then when the situation calls for this protection I not be willing to do just that.  I’ve ended a relationship recently for this very reason and it has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.

Looking for answers as I’ve always done, I went to the library to see what I can find about a topic that has been bothering me “Bullying at school by teachers.”  Most books on this topic usually lead to bullying from other students.  But this day, I found a book that would seemingly have some much needed answers and validation that has been lacking.  The book is titled, “Teen Torment by Patricia Evans.”

IMG_1335

I opened the book to a random page with the title…..

In this passage I found this….”In a culture that overlooks verbal abuse, teens who are tormented by it face difficulties accomplishing developmental tasks such as independence, identity, and career goals.  When teachers put them down or rage at them these students lose the confidence to become independent. And one of the long-term consequences of verbal abuse is that it disconnects teens from their emotional self.”  Essentially, what happens is that the teen learns how to feel nothing in order to withstand the abuse.  “The teen then can’t figure out who they really are versus who they’re told they are.  Consequently, they look for their identity outside of themselves making up an image that seems more acceptable since they’ve already been told many times that who they are is not adequate as a human being.  They might develop an appearance so that no one really knows what has happened to them as a safety measure.  They will go to any lengths to maintain this image which to them seems safe.  Instead they end up losing their own interests and talents because all of their thoughts about who they thought they were have been told time and time again that they’re wrong.”

IMG_1336

Indicators of Verbal Abuse

  • Show a noticeable change in behavior
  • Become isolated and withdrawn
  • Pull away and refuse to talk
  • Seem depressed
  • Cry easily or often
  • Not have close friends
  • Have bad dreams
  • Complain about going to school
  • Cut classes at school
  • Refuse to go to school
  • Throw up before school
  • Seem to daydream a lot
  • Have trouble concentrating
  • Get much lower grade than usual
  • Seem to have lost enthusiasm for anything
  • Become self-critical
  • Hurt themselves, cut themselves, eating disorders and pull their hair
  • Act aggressively towards siblings, peers or parents
  • Get angry often
  • Lash out at others
  • Get in many fights (Teen Torment, 2003).

When I was abused by this teacher everything that I was being taught, by my parents, about respect of another human being was confusing to say the least.  She told me so many negative things about myself as a human being and through negative body image that I was almost guaranteed to sprout the eating disorders anorexia and bulimia that I still struggle with daily after 30 years.  I’m tormented by her words and actions daily.  I can hear them as clearly as the day she said them.  And as sad as it seems, I hold onto my eating disorders and other self-harming behaviors with a death grip because somewhere along the way they were the only part of my life that seemed safe and something I can control.  But this “control” is a false control just like addiction to a chemical.  It’s also behaviors that pretend to be your friend until you realize that that “safe friend” has taken everything away mainly your sanity.  Self-harming behaviors of any kind have negative social implications which have made me a prisoner of my bedroom.  Most people don’t want to hear excuses for why you don’t want to eat.  They just see it as a disrespectful gesture and will think twice before inviting you again.  And God forbid if they happen to see your scars from cutting.  They think they’re hanging out with a psychotic monster that has the possibility to lunge at them with a razor blade at the dinner table.  My thoughts have always been, “If you only knew what caused these scars to appear, you’d think before judging next time.”

IMG_1338

When I finished reading only about 10 pages of information I laid my book down in my lap and began sobbing.  Finally, I had found some information that spoke for me what I couldn’t.  I saw on those pages validation for that horrible year of abuse with information about what it did to me.  I was called all the names and was told that I was stupid and fat among other things that children should never have directed at them by anyone much less from a “safe person” in a position of authority.  That year affected me in ways that I still can’t fully understand.  This book and it’s passages tend to make me retract from some of the information because of how close to home it all is.

As a teenager, I had much difficulty with emotion regulation.  I’m torment by her words and actions of that year.  Her negative body image comments have me fearing everything related to the topic.  I can still feel the bullets of her malignant words she shot my way directly into my still developing brain.  And to her I can say this, “You don’t matter and you never did.  I’m succeeding despite what you did.”  And for you I have a surprise.  What if it’s simply calling you and confronting you about what was done?  This kind of discussion needs to be in public where we both feel safe and can speak openly.  It could be that simple. Would you listen and deny any wrong doing?  Either way a surprise there will be because every day I wake up I’m bruised inside and you are the only one who can heal that wound.  Wouldn’t that be a nice surprise?!  Maybe that’s the surprise I’m waiting to hear and hold on to.  Maybe the surprise is something different. Only I know.

IMG_1337

Every single day I choose to work on some type of behavior or action that most people take for granted.  As much as I would like to re-gift this “gift” of surviving apparently it was meant for me.  And I’ll carry this burden with the hopes that my own children don’t have to taste this type of life and that monsters are just pretend instead of real as I and many others know them.  Carrying the trauma of the boys that molested me, my teacher, my ex-husband and his brother, a trusted therapist will end with me.  I will either win or die trying because when it comes down to it it’s all about leaving everything you’ve got physically and mentally in the ring, on the field or on the court.  Whatever happens my wife and boys will know that I gave everything I had until I couldn’t.  I wasn’t coached to give up until I had left it all on the field and could feel proud of my efforts whenever that day comes.

Rocky Balboa talking to Adonis Creed before his first fight….

You’ve never been in front of this many people….that don’t matter.

You’ve never been this far away from home….that doesn’t matter either.

What matters is what you leave in the ring

And what you take back with you is……PRIDE.

And knowing that you did your best and you did it for yourself.

You didn’t do it for me; Not for your friend’s memory but for you.

I can see in your eyes you’re going to do it…..Go Do This Champ!

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

What December 4th Means To Me…..

What December 4th Means To Me…..

” Today, on her birthday, I am teary eyed about the other woman

who also remembers that today, 43 years ago, she gave life

to a child that is calling me “Momma.”

—Unknown

I must admit that my birthdays for a long time have carried with them a dark cloud. As a child, I remembered them being like most kids’ birthdays. Cake, ice cream, presents and if you were lucky a party at McDonald’s complete with a tour to the store’s freezer just to find out that it was cold. A paper birthday hat and the playground equipment that was fun only in spring or fall seasons because you didn’t dare play on it in during the humid summers of the Deep South for fear of being burned alive by the stifling hot metal. The consequences of being a child playing on metal playground equipment would remind you that next time maybe you shouldn’t.

In my teen years, birthdays usually consisted of The Petal Lady Panther Basketball Classic. Softball season would’ve ended by now and we were well into our basketball season. There were plenty of local “social parties” complete with a bonfire, alcohol and loud country music. I was also busy trying to fill an emptiness in myself that I couldn’t identify. I just knew that emotionally I hurt. I began treating that hurt with any substance or behavior that seem to soothe that pain even a little bit. Little did I know that I was already in the death grip of addiction by the time I graduated high school. The combination of both the physical and mental stress of addiction for a mere 4 years would take the dream of playing college ball of any kind away.

As a late teen and early adulthood, I wouldn’t only see the dichotomy in a person’s behavior. I would often times feel the shift in his behavior before it actually happened. It was also on some of those same scary nights that my birthday December 4th would fall. Apparently, there was an unwritten rule about what men, specifically my ex-husband, were entitled to on any day but celebrations of any kind were a guarantee.

jesus and baby

This “emptiness” was now identified as a void. And the void was the one thing that has haunted me daily since middle school….my adoption. The abusers in my life have always made sure that this particular topic’s wounding got a little deeper with their ability to hurt without touching. Each year that passes it makes this time of the year just a little bit more painful. I’ve always seemed in some way to seek out the love and acceptance of my birth mom that I’ll never receive. She, unfortunately, does not have it to give to me to satisfy that insatiable need that never seems to be filled.

In the process of searching, finding and being rejected again and years of abuse I’ve pretty much walled my heart off to most people including close friends and family. Each year it gnaws away at me until the thought of getting close to someone scares me so bad that I reach out and destroy that relationship. Now In my 40’s I walk around with such a thick and, at times, aggressive coat of armor that I run off a lot of people before they get a chance to really know me past my silly sense of humor. Several people know that my birthday is off limits in regards to contacting me. Social media is turned off and my phone is put on “Do Not Disturb” making it virtually impossible to contact me unless you’re here in person. Very grumpy I can be on this the one of the heaviest days of grieving for me all year long.

Coach has the uncanny ability to get me to do  “therapeutic assignments” that can have me stomping around like a toddler who was given the wrong colored cup. I have the ability to act just like that when I think my unhealthy ideas are much better and/or more fun. This birthday would be different though. I had to be receptive to her ideas and be trusting enough in her as a person and as a professional for her guidance to be remotely acknowledged on this topic. And by the end of the day after coach stirred the fairy dust and a few of my own tears fell, for the first time in many years when the sun went down my smile didn’t. It was genuine happiness and…..well….it was different but it was nice.

I guess what made the day even more special was celebrating my birthday with our oldest son, Marshall who turned 7 years old yesterday. I never understood how my birth mom felt. I heard the painful words she said to me. But when I laid eyes on our beautiful first born, I’m glad that I don’t know what it’s like to be her. Because I have two beautiful little superhero, “man cub” children that call me Mom and I get to call them Sons.

I can still say with much assurance that the impact my adoption has had on my life has been tremendous in both good and bad ways. There are many tears left to cry on this topic. And much more emotional healing that needs to occur because coach does more than blows a whistle…..she plants seeds.

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

“10-4 Control We’re 10-8”

“10-4 Control We’re 10-8”

“One single word – like EMERGENCY, or love – can

revise a whole night. A whole life.”    

— Alena Graedon

Several months ago I wrote a blog titled No Thanks Needed.  This was one call that I worked while in the Emergency Medical Service (EMS) field.  Let’s face it, no one calls for an ambulance or seeks out any helping professional because things are going great in their lives.  Likewise, I didn’t seek out counseling because functionality was my No. 1 attribute.  I began seeking counseling because I was being tormented though it was not voiced at the time.

The title of this post “10-4 Control We’re 10-8” I have said hundreds of times while working on the ambulance.  It simply means, “Yes we are enroute.”  I’m sure this varies from service to service depending on the differences in 10 codes and signal numbers nationwide but you get the general idea.  There is no possible way to do justice through words what working in this type of job carries physically, mentally, spiritually and just about any other area of a human being’s existence.

As a teenager, I had my heart set on being a police officer.  Then I determined that since I loved doing drugs that being a police officer was probably not the best option.  However,  I had the need and want to be in some type of helping profession.  At a young 20 years of age the thought of going to school 6 years for a counseling degree was nowhere near the table.  Finding out that I could go to EMT school for 6 months, however, was.  I was beyond excited and totally immersed myself in my studies and training.  My husband wasn’t real excited because the pay was extremely low in that career.  But for me there was a higher calling, the want and need to help people.

emt prayer

I studied myself silly those 6 months and learned everything I possibly could about this exciting field that I saw myself loving naturally.  We were told about different types of scenes that would be a high likelihood that we would encounter. However, nothing could ever prepare me for the things that I would actually see and experience.  In my personal life, though, the grasp of the evil hands of abuse seemed to become tighter and tighter.  He pretended to support my career decision but that’s all that it was….PRETEND.

In February 1997,  fresh out of EMT school and newly married I got my first truck assignment making a meager $4.95/hr with the local ambulance service.  I worked for an ALS (Advanced Life Support Service) which required that a paramedic to also be on the truck.  This meant that the drugs given and additional skills that would be required were higher than my scope of practice.  Some of these skills would include intubation, cardiac monitoring, starting IV’s, giving narcotics and various other skills that I as an EMT-Basic could not legally do.

Performing as an athlete required split second decisions but now it was not about winning ballgames it was about someone’s life.  Mistakes now had a much higher price tag.  The one thing I always tried to be as an EMT was humble.  There were those that had a very narcissistic view of their position and thought of themselves as a god.  This was not a stance of mere confidence but a stance that nauseated me to my core.  Most of the time I would see this in paramedics which we would then refer to them as “Paragods.”  Working alongside confidence rather than blatant narcissism was where you could really learn and working with confident paramedics I did learn.

We were taught in school about the importance of “self-care” while in this career that would be crucial to making it past the national burnout rate which, at that time, was only 5 years.  Included in the self-care education was the importance of EAP counseling after a bad call or mass casualty.  The daily stress of the job and the ongoing abuse at home ensured that I would never come close to that 5 year mark.  There are laws now that regulate the amount of hours that a crew can work without downtime but then apparently there weren’t. It was nothing to have to work 24, 36 or a 48 hour shift with very minimal sleep and/or food.  We were commonly called “Trauma Junkies” because it seemed the more horrific the scene the better as bad as that might sound.

trauma junkie

There were several “bad calls” that I experienced but only a couple where afterwards I went to a supervisor to request EAP services just like what was suggested.  What I was met with was the attitude of “if you can’t handle your job then you might need to consider another career.”  Not only that but then you have to face being ostracized by not only management but also the other medics in the company and seen as “less than” or “weak.”  So, really the only option was to “suck it up” and somehow separate mentally from the daily harsh reality of life.

Anyone who has ever worked in some form of EMS services understands that as a means of survival the job requires that emotions be put to the side and you function purely on logic.  But suppressing these emotions does not mean that emotions were not affected.  In this kind of career there is a lot of maladaptive behaviors that take to the forefront namely drug/alcohol addiction and a high rate of suicide.  Not surprising but nevertheless a reality.  I saw things and was involved in situations that the human brain has difficulty processing and accepting.

My husband’s opinion and others that I’ve spoken with at times posed the statement, “Well you chose the career” or “You have the easiest job on the planet.  All you do is sit on your ass in an air conditioned truck.”  Easiest job on the planet couldn’t have been farther from the truth.  It was one of the most dangerous and taxing jobs that one could possibly encounter.  The downtime that we would have sitting in the truck “posting” at a location was only due to other trucks being on calls and us covering their area.

I have always replied, “Well then who else was going to do the job?  You?”  That was always met with silence.

My husband, at the time, was a newspaper editor and well he didn’t and still doesn’t have a clue what that type of job entails.  I told him more than once, “If you can work on someone’s mother, father, grandmother, child or grandchild for them to still die even after your best efforts and then go home and lay your head on the pillow and sleep soundly doing this day in and day out then you’re not human. You’re a machine.”  The ability to function like this day in and day out requires a certain degree of callousness.  But make no mistake that those calls bothered me then and now.

walk a mile in our boots

For the last 21 years, I have run some of those same calls all day and all night like my career never ended.  The putrid smells of rotting flesh from week old dead bodies that had to be taken to the morgue I can again smell at random times throughout the day.  The smells of blood, fuel and mud/dirt from car wrecks.  The screams of mothers who I had to tell that their child was dead or wouldn’t survive due to the severity of their injuries.  The horrible images of abuse and/or neglect of children, adults and the elderly.  The smell and site of exposed brain matter from head injuries, suicides and or murders.  The individuals that died simply because you couldn’t get them out of the vehicle because the jaws of life were being used elsewhere and subsequently the vehicle caught fire and were burned alive.  The children that would look at you and ask, “Are you going to help my momma or daddy?” While knowing full well that their parent was already dead.  The decapitations that looked and felt like you were in a real live horror film. And the leftover pieces of meat that don’t even resemble a human body after being hit by a train consume my thoughts and emotions when most people lay down for a night’s rest.  It’s at these times, once again, that my shift starts on the once beloved career working on an ambulance.  I didn’t work several years.  I only worked one year on the ambulance until the abuse  at home combined with the daily trauma that I was exposed in this career caused me to buckle.  I saw enough in that one year to still have me waking up in the mornings with my face and shirt wet with sweat.

Without fail whenever I see or hear those lights and sirens, I instantly want to run and jump on the truck and ask, “Ok. What kind of call are we going to?”  Sometimes I’ll still listen to a local scanner to find out what’s going on throughout the city especially on a weekend.  I will also hear those very same words, “10-4 control we’re 10-8” and then the crew is given the next location for an additional call. It’s in those moments that I realize that EMS and the need and want to help people will always be a part of me.  And at night I realize that EMS is still a part of me.

One of the most powerful lessons that was taught to me through experience of working in EMS is to tell those that you care about that you love them even strangers because you might be the only one that speaks those words.  The last words you say might very well be the last words that are said.

“The most basic job of an EMT is to notice things and then wonder about them.”

–Thom Dick

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

The 1-2 Punch

The 1-2 Punch

“Grief is perhaps an unknown territory for you.  You might feel

both helpless and hopeless without a sense of a ‘map’ for

the journey.  Confusion is the hallmark of a transition.

To rebuild both your inner and outer world is a major project.”

–Anne Grant

Another sleepless night and I’ll just call I….grief and shame.  It comes with no instruction manual or statute of limitation.  To me it’s one of our body and mind’s deepest and purest emotions.  Grief is one of these emotions that float around in our psyche waiting for its “perfect” time to be exposed.  Its perfect timing usually does not equate to our perfect timing.  Some of us prefer to grieve in private to hide whatever shame we’ve been intentionally or unintentionally exposed to about the process.  No matter how heavy or light the grieving is on a more intimate level we would usually prefer to have someone close by for support.

My personal grieving process is one that’s very confusing and shame based. While still living at home with my parents prior to my relationship with my ex-husband, grieving was considered a natural part of life.  Emotions were acknowledged and processed usually around the dinner table.  At the hands of an abusive teacher at age 13, was the first time I very distinctly remember being shamed for my tears.  Tears were no longer seen as an emotion but rather as a weakness.  The lesson learned from this experience was “Ignore the emotion. Hide the tears.  The abuse won’t stop but it shouldn’t get worse.”

trauma

Tried and true this method worked for this moment and many more years.  I had no idea where powerful emotions other than anger went.  They just seemed to dissipate as quickly as when they appeared.  The grief has been out of sight from the naked eye.  Though it was only buried and not gone.

Grieving around my ex-husband was never acceptable as you can imagine.  His grief no matter how minute seemed to always be justified.  My tears led to comments about being “childish and embarrassing” for him especially when in public.  At home behind the dread closed doors, I was still called “childish” and “stupid.” I was also made fun of, laughed at and “taught a lesson about being an adult” by way of some sexual encounter.  I very quickly learned how to also control those emotions with a shovel and dirt.  So where do the emotions go?  They are buried deep in the ground where your heart rests.   They are festering sometimes for years one on top of another.  Eventually maybe sooner rather than later a foreign substance or maladaptive behavior comes along that seems to provide some type of pseudo-catharsis.  It presents itself as the dependable one who will always be loyal and non-judgmental and a best friend  We buy into the rationalizations only to have the name ADDICTION tattooed on our foreheads like a scarlet letter.  The substance and/or behavior soon becomes the “best friend” that will cut out throats leaving only a trail of destruction to show the quality of the relationship.  This “stuffing” of emotions is in no way exclusive to grief.

Shame

Three years after the death of Sarah and I sit here quietly in the wee hours of the morning, in my bed facing this very emotion.  A heavy heart and a lump in my throat that seems to be limiting my air flow is the result of this incredibly painful memory.  From the time we were notified that she was terminally ill until she passed away from approximately 1.5 weeks.  I felt as though I had no time for grieving because I had promised to do the difficult job of being with her until the very end.  Out of respect, I felt that I needed a safer time and place to deal with this.  However, tears just seemed to continue to fall despite the fact that I could not feel any emotion.  I vowed to process this the minute I got back to Albuquerque.

Once I was able to line up another therapy session the weight of Sarah’s death and the miscarriage of Copeland’s twin got the best of me and I began sobbing like a child.  I was being so vulnerable and raw with my emotions for the first time since the horrible days of not being allowed to grieve around my husband.  I just needed to be able to cry as an adult child and parent for these heavy losses.  I hungered for something as simple as compassion.  This day and time “compassion” would be the illusive fugitive.  The response I received from this “trusted” professional was, “Dana give me a break.  She wasn’t your real mom and that wasn’t a real baby.”  All I could do was freeze and try not to vomit.  It was like another 1-2 punch experienced many times previously but all in their own unique fashion.  I became numb and have no further recollection of the remaining time in session.

inner children

In the years since this happened any time emotions about the loss of Sarah make it to my throat but rarely do they leave my eyes. The shame for grieving even with so-called “safe” people now felt “unsafe.”  This incident alone has made for some difficult therapeutic baggage.  I don’t know how to put what happened into words but betrayal is how it felt then and now.  Being able to address this topic with professionals on a level deeper than just superficial has been nearly impossible because of one thing…FEAR.

Luckily after this incident our trusted couple’s therapist of 6 years, at the time, was patiently awaiting the return with open arms as we come back licking our wounds.  Unfortunately though the damage had already been done.  The same actions by my former perpetrators had now rolled out of the mouth of my therapist.  When I finally met “coach” in nothing less than a flamboyant display of behavior my distrust and subsequent hatred for professionals of any kind was very evident.

I’ve always said that compassion is my kryptonite.  “Coach” hasn’t let me down in this area.  It’s been a very slow process to learn to trust the right kind of “safe” people.  As the boiling lava of grief surrounding the loss of Sarah and our unborn child continues to fester, I still find myself going into the closet in my bedroom to cry so that no one else in the house can hear me.  The few times I actually do shed tears around others is simply because I consider them my very closest.  As I continue to deal with the shame of showing intimate emotions I also realize that I’m working with someone who would never treat me like that.  With all the complexity of untangling some very painful areas of my past, I must admit that I can leave that for someone other than me.  When I met “coach” someone in the same professional position had planted a seed about the possibility that it could happen again.  The pain of it slowed me down but again compassion is winning out. And slowly but surely my tears are finding their way out of my eyes again.

“Shame corrodes the very part of us that believes we are capable of change.”

–Dr. Brene Brown

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Miracles Right In Front Of Us

The Miracles Right in Front of Us

“Miracles happen every day, change your perception of what

a miracle is and you’ll see them all around you.”

–Jon Bon Jovi

Easter is the time when most if not all Christians celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.  Jesus has always been widely known for performing miracles.  While living in New Mexico and working with a melting pot homeless population you begin to see that religion and spirituality can take on  many different meanings for different people.  My decision was simple do I accept their differences?  And well…..it was a very easy decision a resounding YES!!!  As individuals we are not made to fit into a box.  The point in being an individual is that you’re different from others.  You are uniquely you.

The clients that I worked with came from many different walks of life and belief systems.  I allowed them to be and feel accepted without judgment.  Pretty soon a mutual respect was developed and connection with them was made.  I’ve heard different stories about miracles happening mainly from religious people.  Working with the substance abusing homeless populations sometimes the miracles were only for one or two to see.

Where 12-step recovery was really pushed there not all of the clients were accepting.  This is when I began to see the importance of individuality in the counseling field.  I also learned that the term “recovery” can mean different meaning for people.  Some prayed to God, Allah, The Great Spirit, the earth, nature, the spirits, etc.

The miracles that I’m specifically talking about were maybe something like being able to have a genuine smile during a conversation.  It might’ve been learning to trust someone who is white because of  the transgenerational trauma forced on their people.  It could’ve simply been someone treating them with respect rather than as a label.  Or it could’ve been about someone willing to listen when no one else would.  Nevertheless, for these clients miracles happened.

miracle.jpg

The detox center might have been the only place where the term “recovery” was ever mentioned to them..  There’s an obvious shortage in substance abuse treatment centers throughout the nation.  But with the population that I worked with most had no insurance because they were homeless.  This ensured them being discharged back into a very hostile living situation.  Consequently, the rate of recidivism was very high.  One thing I knew without a doubt is that they would call sometimes looking for something, as simple as, a warm cot and a sandwich.

I think a lot of times that “we,” as a society, have a definition of miracles where we expect people to walk on water or raise the dead so we can catch the proof on our IPhone.  And many times life circumstances keeps us temporarily blinded to the beauty that sits before us.  I’m certainly not an exception to that rule either.  The weight of my trauma gets so incredibly heavy sometimes that the only thing I can see is the unfairness, despair and hopelessness related to it all.

The good days are the ones that drop by just like an intermittent reward system when gambling.  You keep putting money in the machine and winning minimally or not at all.  And then there’s the win, though not too big, that keeps the dialogue of “I’m close, I can feel it” continuing.  If  look at how the stars line up in our lives sometimes we realize that other painful situations had to happen for the miracle to occur.  Here’s are a few of the miracles that I’ve noticed in my life.  This list is by no means exhaustive.

1). It’s a miracle that I made it through my former marriage alive.

2.)  It’s a miracle that Sarah Pardue and I crossed paths in a treatment center  because I was a drug addict/alcoholic that was angry and running amuck in life.

3.)  I was a miracle that I met my best friend and soul mate, Melody Landrum-Arnold, and I met each other through Sarah.

4.)  It was a miracle that Mel and I ever left the deep south.

5.)  It was a miracle that we met our therapist in Albuquerque.  She turned out to be one of the very rare finds in that state. She was certainly the wind beneath our family’s wings.

6.) It was a miracle that both of our invitro babies Marshall, 6, and Copeland, 3, made it successfully to their forever home with two mommies.

7.)  It’s a miracle that we made it out of New Mexico as a couple due to so many years of stress and a lot of it related to my mental illness.

8.)  And how could I ever forget what a miracle it was to find a new coach that saw my anger and rage, knowing me very little, while on an inpatient unit and still willing to work with a group of broken children trying to function as a healthy adult.

9.) And well….leaving my two boys and my dear wife to go live in a state and sacrifice not having the time with them in order to work with my coach regularly in an attempt to save my own life….that too is a miracle.

At the detox center, I would work around the rules to get everyone who asked for help some type of help no matter the situation.  And sometimes……they would show up hoping to see a friendly face and maybe experience another little miracle.  And well…every encounter with them I experienced a miracle too.

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Tioga Bound

Tioga Bound

“When you know who you are; when your mission is clear and you burn with

the inner fire of unbreakable will; no cold can touch your heart; no deluge

can dampen your purpose. You know that you are alive.”

– Chief Seattle, Duwamish

 

I was looking through my recent blog posts and realized that I had not yet written about a place I went to visit last summer/fall 2017.  There are some situations in life when/where it happens you have to just be quite and let it soak in.  Sometimes just looking at how situations came to be can unlock a little patch of “surrendering to the process.”

I believe wholeheartedly that there’s something about how the stars are lining up in my life.  I don’t have those answers yet but they’re out there somewhere.  In March 2017, I was pretty hopeless in most areas of my life.  Out of the blue I get a call from someone who still completely amazes me with her compassion and patience. I had found my new coach finally.  Tears streamed down my face as I call my wife Melody to let her know what had just happened.  The challenge would be for Mel and I, as a couple, to figure out what was best for our family as a whole.  I had my eye set on one thing as my goal and that was the day I could begin this arduous work with someone already proven trustworthy.

We already had planned a trip to Walt Disney world in Orlando, FL  with our boys obviously not knowing what the coming months would bring.  Anyway, the boys and Mel enjoyed the trip. I just realized how bad things had gotten and was continuing to decline.  Our boys were entitled to have some genuine fun that normally they couldn’t do around me because of PTSD symptoms.  While at Disney World I enjoyed seeing our boys and Mel with smiles on their faces.  For me having so many issues with social situations the trip was torture.  The amount of people and no private space had me wanting to just randomly bite people for no reason.  Then somewhere on the inside I heard…”Orange is not a good color for you!  And you won’t like the flip flops!!!!”  Not conventional grounding  method but it worked.  The fireworks shows, though beautiful, had me running for cover.  But I do love my family.

IMG_0015

Mel’s grandmother passed away which meant we would be staying very close to the city where I grew up.  It doesn’t matter the situation. That area of the country is just not safe for me to be hanging out in.  But It was a death in the family and loyalty to our friends and family are stronger than anything we have individually, as a couple or as a family.  We eventually made it back to Albuquerque.  And things went from bad to worse.

I ended up returning to a trauma unit where I would meet more close friends referred to as my “battle buddies.”  This stay was quite difficult to say the least.  Things were much different and I left there completely defeated.  Just months before I caught wind that someone cared which left me very curious say the least.  The only thing I’ve never been surprised by is in the fact that change is constantly happening.  This situation was absolutely no different.  I licked my wounds all the way back to Albuquerque to my awaiting room where I keep all of my secrets.  It was sort of my prison within my own prison.

Someone did mention about this place out in Tioga, TX called Healing Springs Ranch.  The last thing I wanted to talk about was more treatment.  I was exhausted and felt beat up.  My recent trauma unit stay reaffirmed to me that professionals were just dangerous no matter how they put a nice spin on things.  And I hated them all.  No one would have another shot at me like that was how hurt I felt.  I was so miserable and wanted a way out.  I wanted help but feared it to my core.  Again, I was told to call them and check it out.

I wanted the opportunity to go and try another open campus facility, at some point, because those were where I was most comfortable.  I just didn’t want to go right then. Being on a locked unit never helps me or anyone else.  But what I was about to walk into was something I was never prepared to experience.  I was told who my inpatient therapist would be.  I had already known her from previous visits to other facilities and knew that she was gentle so having that knowledge really helped me to settle.    Here I was about to trust someone to mess with my “system” again and I wouldn’t be able to leave for awhile. And there was only minimal trust to start with.

My wife dropped me and my belongings off after getting checked in.  I was told to enjoy that last Diet Coke for a while.  I froze.  What in the hell did he just say?!!!!  I instantly felt death near.  I knew that coffee was not even a remote possibility for me.  Caffeine, Caffeine where shall I find thee?  I was truly starting to panic.  OMG….what have I just agreed to? I was trying to keep the fear buried and plenty of smiles and laughter on the outside.

finding myself

I soon took that long ride, on the golf cart, to the main building known as the Bunk House.  I was beyond terrified and my inside guys were assessing everything we saw, heard and smelled.  We passed the field of cows I would learn to love and talk to every morning on daily walks.   There were a couple I would name T-Bone and Rib eye.  I know I should have a conscious about their names but I don’t.  And the golf cart would be parked by cows that had this exact conversation go on right before their eyes.

Friend:  Dana those are those different cows called Yams!

Me:  I can assure you that those are not yams.

Friend:  Dana yes they are I know what I’m talking about.  Those are YAMS!!!

Me:  Oh for the love of God and the Holy Angels!  That is not a potato!  A yam is what you have on Thanksgiving!  If that is a yam then that potato has four legs and a tail while also saying…MOOOOOOO! A YAK!  A YAK is what you’re thinking about and that is not a Yak either!  That’s just a messed up looking cow!  We laughed then and still today about how funny that brief moment in time unfolded.

When the doors opened and I began the incline on the floor to the nurses’ office I was greeted by a few people welcoming me to Healing Springs Ranch.  Omg…they’re a cult!  They have a following of people that claim that they care and are happy.  I saw who would be my therapist and instantly I thought…Damn I feel bad for you already.

Everyone was so incredibly caring and you just somehow knew that this place was special.  It was just different in a loving kind of way.  In my illustrious career of dealing with treatment centers and stabilization units I had never found this much compassion in one place.  This is a place far from a locked unit.  They loved without conditions.  This has always been a foreign concept for me because from several abusers “love” had conditions.  So accepting this love was going to be a challenge and it was the majority of the time.

Very slowly but surely I would begin to settle in with this new community.  This place whatever its magical powers was loving me and I began to melt.  No one saw this right off but both me and my alters felt it instantly.  I’m a difficult patient in the best of circumstances. But apparently The universe knew what it took to make me crumble……COMPASSION.  I was still a very angry and scared person under all the smiles and laughter.  They had already found my weakness.

family

And you seem to know that the relationship is going to be interesting when one of the first people you see you say, “Hey 13 is that you?!” Calling someone, who would turn out to be one of my closest friends, one of your alters’ names can be incredibly funny.   I’ll be honest that an argument between a 10 year-old and a 13 year-old can be awfully flamboyant. But put them both in adult bodies and that could be sent to the comedy show of your choosing. However, The awesome look at nature and it’s scary and comforting critters it hides seemed to be medicine for my soul.

Charlie the Squirrel seemed to take the place of the Angry Birds in Albuquerque.  My personal encounters involves said tree rodent.  Oh Mr. Sandy cheeks decided that I needed a little more confusion and proceeded to bark at me machine gun style.  With my very well developed hyper startle response, Charlie might as well have been sitting on my face and chewing on it. All I could think to say was, “It jumped out from the bushes and almost killed me!”  Really he just scared the shit out of me from about 10 feet away in a tree. Then I scared the shit out of the people walking with me.  We still laugh about it all.

Life had become routine which I loved.  At night after most of the day staff left for the evening and we had all gotten our night meds and snacks people would head down to their rooms either for a shower and/or bed.  But there were also members of our tribe that enjoyed that 30 minute time period of sitting on the porch with the slight breeze and just decompress from all of the day’s activities.  The night wildlife was front and center.  If you were brave enough to listen to some of the conversations we would have you would realize that there was an amazing amount of healing that went on.  There started out with about 4 people, including myself, who took full advantage of hanging out with this new family.  By the time it was my graduation, there were usually over 10 people at night.

I was usually telling some kind of funny story or just getting tickled about the day’s activities.  There were stories about Miss Betty and the Mr. Bitchy.  Many also know about my Ozzy Osborne impression shouting “SHARON!!!!!!”  Any issues between me and Charlie the Squirrel had to be told. Funny stories from being an EMT. Or the funny things about being a lesbian mom raising little boys.  On a more somber note someone might bring a guitar to the patio and we would sing.

These other clients and staff were hearing details, ugly details of my past and they still loved me.  They were getting to know my alters almost as well as my own spouse.  The work we all did was hard to say the very least.  Walking in their doors with all of my therapy baggage at the forefront assured me just starting on trust again.  But my family members who were also working on their individual issues were also there.  After many years of Melody and I flying solo through this life of Dissociative Identity Disorder, I can only wish that the facility had been there much sooner. Finally I  had found a place that would take the time to get to know someone beyond the adolescente.

There were times when the work we had done during the day time just managed to leave the mark on someone’s face that said,  “I need a friend who understands and to be able to let the tears fall where they may without the fear or feeling of judgment.”  Healing with your peers with no parameters to interfere was total freedom.

At HSR, I found my tribe.  I found a whole host of “safe people” that I never knew existed.  All of the amenities are just a bonus with the total experience.  The food is prepared by one of the finest chefs on my list. The staff packs a lot of knowledge about both addiction and mental health disorders.  Their passion for what they do can be seen many miles away…like Albuquerque.  But what you’ll experience as a whole is beautiful.  I didn’t leave there with a lot of answers.  But I left there knowing and believing that all people aren’t dangerous and that was just what I needed.  Because “those people” and the alumni are who I call….FAMILY.

These are just a few of the reasons that Healing Springs Ranch is where I found my forever home with a brand new, handpicked by the universe, group of likewise compassion and passion for life kind of family.    I learned at “The Ranch” that even clowns need to make time for tears. And that not everyone is put on this earth to hurt me.  As for my alters and I, well let’s just say that the process of “being loving” with our tone to each other is still moving forward just at a snail’s pace.  And I did get to move closer to my HSR family.  As difficult of a process as it’s been not moving here with Melody and the boys, I’m in the arms of members of that same family.  I finally made it here about 2 months ago and I walked into those loving arms of people that I met hear. They understand without explanation but with humor when I say that I’m one of those people who are buy 1 get 15 free.

“You treat a disease, you win, you lose. You treat a person, I

guarantee you, you’ll win, no matter what the outcome.”

– Robin Williams

https://www.healingspringsranch.com/

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Locked And Loaded

Locked and Loaded

“I finally understood what could drive kids to show up with guns and shoot up their schools.”
― Nenia Campbell, Freaky Freshman

If you want to look at all sides of the historical and current school shootings then don’t forget this side.  Put yourself in the driver’s seat as a teenager who feels that there is no way out.  There are no easy answers.  Don’t think as an adult about how you would respond?  You have to imagine the world through the eyes of a desperate teenager who feels helpless just like those who killed. I’m not condoning anything.  Just don’t eliminate one of the sides of the problem or you’ll never achieve an accurate answer.

Imagine for a minute this scenario…..

Life as a 13 year-old rebellious but funny teen seemed to be pretty benign on the surface.  Teenagers because of the developmental stage tend to be difficult stressors for kids and their parents.  She had this incredible gift to make people laugh no matter the situation. Depression crept in and slowly started transforming her.  Her vitality for life was very slowly disappearing and it never seemed to matter or to care to those she tried to reach out to.  She had no animosity towards anyone.  She hated that she had been unwanted.  But everyone loved her because she was everyone’s favorite clown and friend.

What no one seemed to take notice of was that this clown was put into a closet behind the teacher’s desk and locked.  The teacher always had hurtful things to say.  She poked at this child like a pit bull chained to a tree and being taunted and whipped with sticks.  Anytime that child spoke up she was hit again.  Anytime she cried she was ridiculed and humiliated.  When she talked about food she was glared at and venomous derogatory body image comments were slung at her.  Every time she tried to fight back she got in even deeper trouble with the administration.  No one ever listened because of a label.  She wasn’t a bad kid.  But now she didn’t know.

All she wanted was for someone to leave her alone and apologize for what had just happened over several months.  Relief was nowhere in sight.  She began thinking that if she (the teacher) wasn’t alive to torment her that she could hang with her friends and continue playing ball.  But if she committed suicide she wouldn’t have to ever face another minute of this daily torture.  She can’t speak of it all as the embarrassment of what she thinks she has allowed.  And then her friend commits suicide and the seriousness and pain of what had just happened was brushed over like his life didn’t matter.  She is rocked to her foundation.

dylan 2

I have lost my emotions

—  Dylan Klebold

 

eric harris 2

I hope death is like a dream state, I want to spend all my time there.

—  Eric Harris

These two thunderclouds collide along with a mixture of other storms in her life.  This marriage, of sorts,  bred the perfect storm.  Her inadequacies were put before her peers.  She was taunted daily about how no one wanted her.  Everything that she would never become.  Statements about being a baby for crying when the words stung like bullets.  She tried to tell and no one would listen.  Or it was the southern way to handle this parenting situation..”She is the adult and you are the child.  Tell her you’re sorry and give her respect!”  She was literally and figuratively trapped and no one could hear her silent screams.

How could you not notice the fact that she cried blood tears from her forearms?  How could you not notice the holes in the hallway and rooms?  How could you not notice that she had deadly eating disorders that would almost take her life?  How could you not notice the pain meds and all the sleeping and headaches that became part of daily life?

Now imagine for a minute that you were that child trapped with no help.  You just wanted it to stop in whatever way possible. Leaving school wasn’t an option.  How do you as a child attempt to rationalize a very impulsive yet very thought out plan to make it end?  How do school shooters develop?  There’s a very condensed scenario.  Often times parents do not know what to look for.  Wearing a mask is too easy to hide behind because no one really wants to know how we’re doing.  “Fine.” seems to be the best generic answer that is acceptable on a daily basis.

You said that you didn’t see the “typical” warning signs.  There is absolutely nothing “typical” about a teenager.  They are independent and impulsive beings with their own fingerprints.  It sounds more like you were blinded by your ignorance and politics to notice that this was happening right in front of you.  You were the adults meant to protect these children and you turned the other way.  Now you don’t like how they turned out.  Five minutes of listening to a child full of tears that you never saw behind those screens of smiles and laughter could’ve saved lives…maybe your own.

“–What if the kids from Columbine were here today.  What would you say to them?

–I wouldn’t say anything, I would listen to them, which nobody else did.”

Quote from Marilyn Manson in the documentary Bowling for Columbine.

#thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

For The Bible Tells Me So Part 2

For the Bible Tells Me So…..Part 2

“If a believer demands that I, as a nonbeliever, observe his taboos in

the public domain, he is not asking for my respect, but for my submission.”

― Flemming Rose

Let me start this entry by saying that I am in no way putting in “jabs” to any particular religious belief or sect.  I’m simply stating how religion can be used in an abusive nature.  I have my own personal experience with Southern Baptist and Southern Evangelicals.  I don’t dislike either one.  Abuse has also been publicized within the Catholic religion.  But let’s face it, abuse of any kind knows no boundaries and/or limits.

In the many years that I longed for and searched for my birth mom I heard the same story over and over about how she was put in touch with a pastor in the Petal/Hattiesburg, MS area and then like a bad explosion I was born.  When I got older I had to be able to understand what all this meant.  So the only way I could fully comprehend this was to call it  “The Underground Railroad for Unwed Mothers.” To tell a few more of the details surrounding her prenatal arrangements and my eventual birth, my birth mom was from Indiana at the time.  She was 16 years old and had gotten mad at my biological father and fled to put me up for adoption as soon as possible.  This information I received when we met face-to-face.

As I stated in the first part of this blog entry being an unwed mother was not exactly as socially acceptable as it is now.  We are not talking about 50 years ago either.  In the 1970s was when my birth mom had me.  In the 1990s when I graduated high school teen moms were still regarded as “less than” no matter the circumstances.  These “less than” opinions were not only from the standpoint of the church where I personally saw people treated differently depending on socioeconomic, gender, race, sexual orientation and just about any other category where someone might “stand out” as being not “normal.”

not afraid to grieve

Nevertheless my birth mom was actually suppose to go to the Bethesda Home for Unwed Mothers when she was pregnant with me.  However, she was too far along in her pregnancy to be accepted there.  This was the best outcome for me as the baby for her to not be allowed there regardless of the reasoning.  For her, though, she has made it clear many times over that I was “an inconvenience in her life then and now.”  Tell me even reading that you didn’t feel that punch to the gut.  Now imagine that you’re that baby that grew up wanting nothing more than to find part of your identity and you’ve been forced to wait to find this woman that you inherently have longed for your entire life because of state laws.  All the while hoping that your opinion of what “adoption” means to you is different.  Only to be rejected again but now you feel that very deadly blow.  I could do absolutely nothing.  I could say nothing.  Me being left speechless seldom ever happens.

To this day, when I am still and think back to that moment I have to change the subject because it’s just too painful to remember.  To make matters worse, when I returned from finding the answers I needed my husband at the time told me “she’s a filthy and disgusting woman and she gave YOU up for adoption.”  I can’t describe what that did to me emotionally.  Every feeling and thought that I had up to that point about my self-worth came down to that one comment.  I have never recovered from things like that that were said to me daily.

When she was turned down at the girl’s home she stayed with another local pastor and his wife until she had me and like clockwork she left never to think about me again until the phone call from my biological brother telling her that I had been found about 30 years later.  She has had an incredibly difficult life.  She and my biological father passed along some strong addiction genes and well…..not much else.  The “Nature vs. Nurture” debaters would love to study this one.  I was going to mention something about good looks but roasting myself has become somewhat of an art.

enemy no chance

The point in all of this is that religion can be incredibly shaming to those that aren’t stereotypical worshippers.  This means going to church or whatever your place to worship and acting a certain way or   being vocal.  Now, personally, I don’t care how anyone worships or who they worship because I consider this a very private matter between you and your higher power whomever or whatever that might be.  Here’s a quote from an author on this very thing…

“Evangelicalism has taken the Extrovert Ideal to its logical extreme, McHugh is telling us. If you don’t love Jesus out loud, then it must not be real love. It’s not enough to forge your own spiritual connection to the divine; it must be displayed publicly. Is it any wonder that introverts like Pastor McHugh start to question their own hearts?”
― Susan Cain, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking

Pastor Marvin Winans is a gospel singer a member of the Winans Family a famous gospel group.  He also leads the choir called the Perfecting Church Choir.  He also has produced several albums with this choir while also being a part of “Tyler Perry’s House of Payne.”   Winans also delivered the eulogy at Whitney Houston’s funeral in 2012.   The comment from an elder in the church about his policy regarding baby dedication for unwed mothers and their children was this…..

 “Pastor Winans has a strict policy — he won’t bless the babies of unwed mothers in front of the congregation”, Fox 2 Detroit reported.

Grace said “she felt degraded by the pastor’s decision. She’s hoping he reconsiders, even if it means having her son dedicated during the week by a church elder.”

Until then, she told Fox 2 Detroit “she has no plans to return to Perfecting Church.”

“I absolutely would not set foot back in the church right now because I feel like they look down upon me and my kind, meaning single moms and unwed mothers,” Grace said.

Pope Francis recently said in May that the Catholic Church should bless children born out of wedlock, because their mothers chose life over abortion.

“’Look at this girl who had had the courage to carry her pregnancy to term. … “What does she find? A closed door,” he said, according to Vatican newspaper L’Osservatore Romano. “This is not good pastoral zeal, it distances people from the Lord and does not open doors (http://archive.eurweb.com, 2013).”

What about those of us that can’t attend comfortably because of trauma either by clergy abuse, PTSD, social phobias, etc?  Well, let’s just say that I’m open about many facets of my life regardless of ostracizing.  Loud music which is usually the status quo in most churches sends chills all over my body.  Not because of the words but because sensory overload and hyper startle  reflex that will have me cringing and crying if I can’t get out of the situation.  If I’m still unable to leave violence is my “go to when niceness doesn’t work.  I’m openly gay  and legally married with children, addictions, mental illness, phobias, PTSD, eating disorders and medical cannabis.  Do I need to keep going?

I’m that baby that was refused dedication to the church because I was born to an unwed mother  (figuratively of course).  My point is this…..the church has lost sight of its mission if Christianity is your thing.  I have my beliefs and questions just like most that keep that information in the dark.  I don’t believe for a minute that the only relationship you can have with God or your chosen deity has to be within a church.  Nor does it make you “less than” because you don’t chose to worship like others.

I’m currently surrounded by people who are loving Christians who understand mental illness and its roots.  They don’t shame me into going to church with them it’s a choice that I make.  And if I start having an issue I simply leave the service and it’s no big deal.  Many churches have a room removed from the service area or provide ear plugs for this and many other reasons and conditions.  God just knew that when the mold broke that I would be quirky but that I would SURVIVE and thus far that’s exactly what I’ve done.

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

It’s Not About The Food

It’s Not About The Food

“Girls developed eating disorders when our culture developed a standard of

beauty that they couldn’t obtain by being healthy.  When unnatural thinness

became attractive, girls did unnatural things to be thin.”

–Mary Pipher

One of the things that I’ve learned the most about my many maladaptive behaviors is that the perfect storm had arrived to ensure me having eating disorders when I was a very impressionable teenager.  Not only was it teenagers having issues with body image.  It was also the abuse that occurred during that time and the things that were said and my impression about what had occurred and what was done.  As a part of the abusive teacher’s very hateful nature was the being humiliated about myself as a human being in front of my peers.  I was put on display a lot of the time and made to stand in front of the class while being made fun of without having any type of recourse.  If I ever said anything back I was punished by both she and the administration who clearly had no idea to what extent her abusive nature was.  She on more than one occasion, would tell me when the rodents would get into my food in my locker “It doesn’t look like you need food anyway.”

My high school years during which I kept those eating disorders alive and well I became a sickly 83lbs and ruined any of my hopes of playing athletics in college.  What I was left with was a life of painful eating disorders that I still struggle with daily.  These behaviors were further compounded when I met my ex-husband who disguised his personal reason for wanting to help me by encouraging the eating disorders in his own way.

skinny back

I was made to weigh for him sometimes weekly because “I’m not going to be married to a fat ass” he would always say.  He would also tell me that “it’s ok to have fat friends but you don’t have to look like them.”  He micromanaged my food to the extent that that I was only allowed to eat what he approved of and nothing else.  To make sure this happened he would allow me only 10 pistachios and 10 olives to eat while at work working two jobs.  He would also, on occasion,  sit out in the parking lot to make sure I didn’t eat anything that was not what he allowed.  When I would tell him that I was hungry his supportive line was “No pain no gain.”

He would also leave random newspaper clippings around the house about the latest weight loss diets and/or make me take pictures of myself in swimsuits or naked, put them on the refrigerator and tell me “next time your fat ass gets hungry look at this picture and maybe you won’t want to eat.”  He would also make comments if we went out to eat about how all the people were looking at me because I was a fat ass.  He would say, “If you don’t like them staring at you then don’t be a fat ass.”  If we had dinner with his family he would wait until we left to criticize either what I ate or how I ate. And many times these comments were said where other people could hear them.  He would also say, “Did you have to eat that much of whatever we had for dinner?  You eat like a prisoner who’s about to have their tray stolen!  And that is why I have to tell you how, when and where to eat.  Because you’re too dumb to do it on your own.  You’ve already proven that time and time again.”  Eating quickly became the most dreaded activity I had to deal with on a daily basis.  My goal was to try to get through life with him and eating as little as possible.  As you can imagine I didn’t do that to his standards either.

The message that was conveyed to me was that no matter what I did it would never be to his irrational standards.  I was also expected to be at the gym to workout mornings at 5:00 am.  Being a well known guy in the city he knows many people and that included the employees at the gym.  So, he would call to verify be being there and what types of workouts I was doing.  If I ran 4 miles he would want to know what I didn’t “gut it out” and run 5 miles.

scales

Years of his verbal abuse, threats, and sexual abuse slowly broke me down.  People who don’t understand why individuals stay in relationships like this often say, “Well he only did what you let him do”  cannot possibly comprehend what this does to your psyche.  Those types of hurtful comments are why most suffer in silence and don’t ask for help.  After all, sometimes it was the easiest and safest thing to do by just going along with whatever his demands no matter what they were.  He had me convinced that I was nothing without him.  He and his brother tormented me for years and continue to do so internally.  But again they were both raised by a father who was also a malignant narcissist and a mother who worked at home without an education until much later in life.  So really she had nowhere to go with three children and no education.  So for many men and women in these types of relationships that don’t leave usually have a damn good reason for staying.  There’s always more to the story behind those closed doors than what you realize.  My own parents had no idea the extent of the abuse that I was having to deal with on a daily basis. Such is a life with a malignant narcissist.

To this day, if someone tries to take a verbal jab at me while in a public place or group setting my “verbal sniper” becomes activated and a one-sided war will ensue.  Get me in that little conservative and very judgmental city and I “turn into a werewolf” as my wife puts it.  I have found that striking the first blow is a way that I can set the tone that I will NOT be hurt by whoever it is that I feel is a personal threat either imagined or real.  All I have to do is see this as a possible threat.  Anyone that I perceive as a authority figure, I absolutely will not make eye contact with if at all possible.

scales attached

I guess the message I’ve tried to convey is that eating disorders and other maladaptive behaviors are about something much deeper than society sees them.  You see the signs and symptoms and I feel the weight of the trauma every minute of every day.  To this day I will chose not to eat because the internal war about what to eat is just too painful.  When I do eat I can never be full and satisfied because full means fat to me.  If I do feel full I have to purge with laxatives to get rid of that feeling.  It’s not a binging thing it’s an eating thing.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…..IT’S NOT ABOUT THE FOOD.

Understand this as well….I’m done trying to live my life carrying my trauma and the trauma those two boys in adult  bodies.  I will NOT continue to be a part of the cycle of not working on my own trauma just to have mine and theirs to be spewed out onto other innocent and unsuspecting people.  This is a work in progress no doubt but the cycle dies with me.  I’ve proven that I can live through it.  Now it’s time to prove I can live without it.  All I need was to find a coach to help with this and I did.

“I failed eating, failed drinking, failed not cutting myself into shreds. Failed friendship. Failed sisterhood and daughterhood. Failed mirrors and scales and phone calls. Good thing I’m stable. ”
― Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

We Called Him Friend

We Called Him….Friend

“The best way a mentor can prepare another leader is to expose him or her to other great people.”

—John C. Maxwell

I have been asking myself lately why I felt the need to write about these individuals who made such a big impact on my life.  The answer…..I don’t know.  Maybe it’s because I’m finally emotionally able to write about them.  Or maybe now that this big life change has happened I have had the time to do some soul searching about people who have impacted my life both positively and negatively.  Whatever the reason I write to process these feelings in private because I’ve always feared expressing emotions other than anger or laughter.  One man that knew the trauma I was experiencing and that spent a tremendous amount of time talking to me each week was Dr. Charles Holmes.

I first met Dr. Holmes during my undergraduate work.  I took several classes he taught on both the undergraduate and graduate level.  He wasn’t a man that crossed boundaries.  He was simply a man who loved his students almost like that of a father.  The first class I took under him was the History of Psychology.  Honestly, the class couldn’t have been more boring.  I would have random thoughts like, “Oh my God did I remember to put on deodorant?  Do penguins have knees? What did I wear?  I look like I just rolled out of my hamper!”  That was one class I truly had to suffer through not because of the instructor but the material.  I was secretly thinking, “To have lobotomy by a leper wouldn’t be as painful.”

He taught many different classes that impacted the lives of so many students.  And then…..I took the Psychology of Addiction and instantly I was in love.  At the time, I had never spoken publicly about the puzzling nature of my life.  When I presented the topic chosen in the class which happened to be about self-harm.  I let my peers into a very small corner of my world and proceeded to throw up after the presentation was complete.  I was also still living with my ex-husband so I was very cautious about telling too much.  But with Dr. Holmes it was just different and you knew that by talking to him. He cared and wanted to know how his students were doing personally not just academically.

dr holmes

March 21, 1941-July 17, 2015

He told us about working with homeless addicts and alcoholics on the streets of New Orleans, LA and I hung onto every word he said.  He knew I was living in an abusive situation but didn’t know the extent.  He didn’t pry but rather just assure me that he was there if I ever needed to talk.  He saw me struggling every day with my personal life of addiction but always had an encouraging word.  He also presented the opportunity to speak to other classes and this continued on into graduate school.  These opportunities were slowly making the shame and guilt dissipate while educating others.

After Hurricane Katrina he told me about some work he was doing in the Pearlington, Waveland and Bay St. Louis areas of Mississippi which were the hardest hit areas.  I was already doing some photography for a book another teacher and I were working on about the devastation.  He invited both Melody and I to help on some rebuilding projects through a Christian organization he was affiliated with.  I can honestly say that the work done in those areas was extremely rewarding.  Not to mention all of the memories that I still have from that.  Here were families broken from the tragedy and I was there to help.  My heart and soul lit up instantly.

I pulled him aside one day before class and said, “Dr. Holmes you’re messing up my theory about men.”  He said, “What are you talking about?”  I said, “Well my experience with men truly exemplifies that all men are pigs and extremely harmful.  Why aren’t you?”  He said, “Dana because I don’t see people in a way as personal property or to make personal gains.”  We hugged and I have never forgotten that.  He would soon make it where all of his classes were required to attend my speaking engagements on campus including the Regional Pine Belt Counseling Association where several professional members of the community also attended.

Once Mel and I moved to Albuquerque life got busy and we spoke every once in a while.  But I did tell him when he asked where I was working that it was with the homeless and how much I appreciated him planting the seed.  I missed him terribly and as my mental health declined all I wanted was to sit down with him and to be told, “It’s going to be ok.”

When we would travel back to Mississippi I would always stop by the college and look up these professors that meant so much to me.  And I could always count on a big hug from Dr. Holmes and occasionally I would help “stomp out stigma and stupidity.”  Whether he was in class or not I would peek around where he could see me and he would excitedly stop his lecture and say, “Come on in, Dana.  Class let me tell you about this former student.” My heart leapt for joy each time and seemed to make it all worth it.

One day while Mel and I were planning a trip back to Mississippi his wife accidentally called me.  It was probably a butt dial.  But I called her back as this was odd.  She told me, “Dana doc isn’t doing well and if you want to see him come on.”  My heart sunk into my stomach and I felt sick.  My beloved professor and friend was dying and there was nothing I could do.

We raced the clock trying to get there before he passed.  Luckily or maybe something granted by the universe, we got there in time.  I walked into his room where he was connected to different medical devices.  I could see he was struggling to breathe and when our eyes met he said, “Dana?”  I said, “Hey doc it’s me. I told you I would be here if you ever needed me.”  He smiled and said, “Are you still cutting?”  I said, “Really that’s your burning question to ask me after this long?”  He and I chuckled and I said, “Yea doc I’m still struggling.” We had a rather short conversation but I told him before I left, “Doc thank you for being such a good man, professor and friend. You really blessed me and it was an honor to have you in my life.”  We told each other “I love you” both with tears in our eyes and hugged.  I left and he soon passed away.

When it was time for his service I saw some William Carey University professors like Dr. Cotten there and I was trying to choke back the tears that were wanting to erupt in my throat.  Then as the service finished and people were mingling a couple walked up to Mel and I and said, “Hey, I think we know you.”  I was scared to death because I couldn’t recall their names or faces.  Ashamed I said, “And who might you guys be?”  They said, “Your name is Dana, right?”  I just knew that they must’ve seen my face on a wanted poster or something.  Reluctantly, I said, “Yes that’s me.”  And they said, “We remember you from helping to rebuild our house after the hurricane with Dr. Holmes.” I was astonished and had a sense of pride as well.  I said, “Yes he was one of my good friends and I’ll miss him dearly.”

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Closing The Chaper

Closing the Chapter

12.29.2017

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will give you a new hello.”

—Paulo Coehlo

Since the end of 2017 is fast approaching and writing has not really been a priority because basic mental and physical survival grabbed that #1 spot this year.  Our little family complete with two little boys that are a beautifully and hysterical mixture of zombie fighter, American Ninja Warrior, chicken nuggets, boogers, poop, sweat, nerf guns, goat head stickers and a nice dose of generalized “Little boy GROSS” seem to be the perfect description for our two little Albuquerque charges.  And it’s because of these two little boys and the love that Mel and I still have for each other that our family is currently closing the chapter here.

Mel and I, for several years now have been looking for a way or a reason to leave Albuquerque.  There are several reasons but mainly because you just seem to know when it’s time to move on.  In June 2009 shortly after completing graduate school at William Carey University in Hattiesburg, MS we set out fleeing our conservative homeland with the goal of one day being parents.  We had no jobs and really no direction but we wanted to leave and leave we did. But not without big dreams for life in the southwest.  I had one personal dream of working as a drug/alcohol therapist with the Native American population which would come to fruition.  We didn’t know what life had to offer but we were ready to face anything or so we thought. And for the next 8 years our life would be about a lot of struggle.

Life was about to teach us some incredibly difficult and painful lessons about facing adversity, our expectations of the word “friendship,” the devastating lasting effects of abuse, the painful sting of death of friends, family and yes both Copeland and Marshall’s twins, a representation of the sad shape of the country’s mental health system, the awareness of how uneducated the legal system is about mental illness, the understanding of how damaging bad therapy can be and the eventual realization that there are still some damn good therapists out there who are truly doing what they love are passionate about for the right reasons. And the true meaning of the words “SACRIFICE” and  “LOVE.”

eagle dancer

We both landed jobs with a temp agency within the billion dollar company Fidelity Investments.   Mel would eventually be offered a job as a Fidelity employee which would include fertility benefits that would make our dreams of being parents possible.  With both of us being adopted, neither of us wanted to adopt but I had no desire to carry.  Mel would be “chomping at the bits” to step into that role.  Having finally divorced a very mentally and sexually abusive 14 year relationship I seemed to just be “unsettled” but tried not to pay it too much attention.  So, I jumped into a doctoral program to help fulfill whatever need it was that I was looking to fill.

I would fall absolutely head over heels working with the homeless.  Coming from small town where the drug problem and crime is more of a nuisance rather than a way of life, we were about to be in for a big shock.  Watching the FOX reality show COPS could easily be achieved by sitting on our front porch and just watching the action.  With a large transient population and our first residence being directly off historic Route 66 in downtown Albuquerque being touched by the crime was inevitable.  I would soon realize, however, that the costs of addiction in every facet I would encounter was at a ground zero status.  This level of addiction would simultaneously be challenging and heartbreaking.  The homeless population I would work with included members of the 200+ gangs in the city, skin heads, murders, rapists, drug dealers and anyone seeking free county funded medical detox.  I would develop a deep down love for working with these men and women who had their own individual needs but underneath their natural edginess and attitude there was a beating heart in their chest.  Very quickly a mutual respect was developed and we looked forward to seeing each other daily.

Soon my ever increasing mental health troubles couldn’t be discounted as stress.  It would eventually become such a big problem that it would turn into a search for answers which continues today.  A few years later all of the strange and at times increasingly debilitating symptoms and a myriad of diagnoses several professionals would concur on the diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder.  I could accept just about any diagnosis but this one.  I just didn’t see how it was possible.  Mel and I both looked at each other like I had just given birth to a baby giraffe.  I can safely say that we were both in denial about this one.

I thought if I just tried really hard that there was no need for this stigmatizing label.  What I learned a few years later is that no matter how much I attempt to be a normal person with normal problems, I just wasn’t.  I can’t even begin to convey to you the long term effects that abuse has had on my being able to function as an adult.  As with most things humor can be found if you look hard enough.  But some of the effects on both the individual and the family can be devastating.

locked soul

My active working career with my brand new degree would be short lived.  This disorder has left me unable to work since our oldest son, Marshall, was born 6 years ago.  Nevertheless both of our little preemie boys and their love for us as their parents can make it possible to “white knuckle” situations longer than you ever imagine.  Many hospital visits, treatment programs and literally blood, sweat and tears later I went to an inpatient trauma program in Denton, TX desperate for help and terrified.  Mel and I began realizing that there are many professionals in that area that actually specialize in treating this disorder.  Complicating this new found information was my intense fear of professionals or anyone in position of authority.  I would meet one at the inpatient program that apparently has the patience of Job and could see right past my spewing venomous rage directly into the pain and hurt.

The loss of our beloved Sarah Pardue in 2015 to cancer has truly left me feeling completely alone and floundering with no direction.  She was my YODA and a voice of reason that I would actually listen to. Her loss brought me to my knees and feeling like someone had figuratively broken my back.  Every since I’ve been in a downward spiral that leaves both me and Mel in awe that I’m here to write about it.

The challenge then became how do we get me access to these services from Albuquerque where we seemed to be forever bound.  About 6 months later our answers would be revealed.  One thing kept gnawing at me….Why did those people at that treatment center care?  I was so loud and flamboyant about who wasn’t going to make me do shit.  I was on a locked until which is a huge trigger for me since part of my trauma is from being or feeling trapped.  So, I’m usually just a pain in the ass for that type of staff. They didn’t tuck tail and run which made me do a double take.

So for the next couple of months it would be having Mel drive me and the kids to Dallas for a session and then turning around and making the 10 hour trip back to Albuquerque.  The compassion and expertise we finally found was something that we would come to realize that would be a necessity for my ultimate survival.  That would mean leaving our trusted therapist of 8 years here, in Albuquerque, who had been the only evidence of consistency we would experience here.  Another inpatient stay in Denton, TX with completely different circumstances and the results were disastrous. I could do nothing but cry.

puzzle piece blue

My soul and heart ached and longed for the wise words of Sarah.  “What the hell do I do now?!!!” I kept saying.  I couldn’t imagine what she would say because it was in this moment that I needed to hear her talk and that wasn’t an option.  At some point among the tears I remember very clearly Sarah saying, “Dana there will be times when you have no idea what to do next in life and I won’t be around.”  Panicked I would ask, “Well mom what the hell do I do then?!!!” She looked at me and said with that comforting smile….”The next right thing whatever that is.”  I would always ask her, “Well, what the hell is that going to be?” and she would say “to let life show you what to do next.”  I had no idea how profound that conversation we would have at different times would be for me.

It would soon be suggested that I look into a new and upcoming treatment facility called Healing Springs Ranch in Tioga, TX.  I have to laugh because even now I think what the hell is in Tioga, TX?  Once you see how really small of a town they are tipping the scales at 886 for a population.  And I’m pretty sure that more than once I communicated with some of the local residents by saying, “MOOOOOOOO!!!!”  But deep in the heart of a big ass pasture there is a magical place that has healing vibes complete with fishing, kayaking, paddle boats, golf, swimming and other activities while surrounded by wildlife that doesn’t seem to fear humans in any capacity.  I mean those little animals don’t even fear Chef Corey who can make a mean dish out of damn near anything.  More than once I felt guilty for eating those plates that were like portraits.

Having been in the nation’s mental health system for the majority of my adult life treatment centers don’t typically exude compassion with many staff much less those in charge.  Healing Springs Ranch is no ordinary place. From the minute you darken the doors compassion and passion seems to ooze out of every pore that makes up that place.  Hey, you know for me the term “Open Campus” vs. “Locked Unit” took me very little time to make the decision to go directly back to treatment.  They also said that individuals with Dissociative Identity Disorder were also treated there.  Boundaries were made very clear and I began to thrive.  I hungered and longed for boundaries but wanted the freedom from being a typical psychiatric patient.  It proved to me very quickly that compassion, boundaries and freedom from being “trapped” can do a lot for someone who struggles living life through trauma colored lenses.  Sometimes all you need to treat a sudden case of anxiety is a beautiful walk and a smart-ass comment from Charlie the Squirrel.  Or the sight of that one special therapist coming to work that stops her car on the path that goes by the cows just to say, “Good Morning cows! Today I will not eat hamburger.”

And now that she’s gone life showed us answers just like she said.  And now under the heading of SACRIFICE and LOVE, Mel and I have decided that the best thing for our family, after years of looking for a sign of hope, that I will move to Texas to do this work individually. They will move back to Mississippi for the support that they need while I make this part of the journey with someone who will be one of the most powerful coaches of my life surrounded by a chosen family of trauma survivors.  As we close the chapter on Albuquerque and 2017, with tears in my eyes I’m cautiously optimistic and yet terrified in the same breath.  Life is very scary for this adult teenager.  I’m heading back east knowing confidently one thing…..that I’ve always been coachable. That I’m doing the next right thing and I’m positive  that Sarah would give her stamp of approval on this decision.  My statement in life is this….”There’s no way that I can fail now.”

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Shattered (Poetry)

Shattered

Life began being ripped away,

how that felt I can’t begin to say.

With no voice I lie and wait

Someone? Are you there? Touch is what I crave.

As a little girl touch was what I got.

I didn’t understand. It was painful and hot.

Teen years rolled around and I was locked away.

All I did was cry and pray.

I wanted to disappear in every way.

Everything has a price that must be paid.

She hated food and she hated life.

You did everything possible to make her your wife

SHATTEREX

You always promised you’d never hit her.

But oh those words were so strong and very bitter.

You cut her down and again she was little.

Take her fears and insecurities and made her very brittle.

She refused to leave and would not go.

All she was to you was a legal ho.

To substances she turned to dull her pain

Given the chance she’d do it again.

Many losses and now a new wife.

With two little boys and a new life.

The old life hangs on and the fears are great.

Everything about life she has learned to hate.

Friends and family she’s lost most but not all.

She’s somehow trapped again by four walls.

If they all knew what all it takes to live every day.

Forget the fact that she loves weed or that she’s gay.

Because of you A shattered psyche and a shell is all that is left.

She gets up every day wondering is this the day she will taste death?

By: Dana Landrum-Arnold

#Thispuzzledlife

 

darnold1975

She Will Always Be Her Daddy’s Little Girl

She Will Always Be Her Daddy’s Little Girl

“He sweeps her hair back from her ears; he swings her above his head. He says she is his émerveillement. He says he will never leave her, not in a million years.”
― Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See

Call this a typical Father’s Day post, but you can’t call him a ‘typical’ father.  This man that I’m going to talk about is a man that he and his wife were and have been and continue to be diligent servants of their Heavenly Father.  As a result, in December of 1975, after a grueling 8 years of red tape and frequent hoop jumping their dreams of being parents and for him being a father came true.

This was a job that he rejoiced in and fully embraced through both tears and laughter.  Even though some of my childhood memories evade me these days, I can still smile at some of the memories I have of my father.  As a small child, he would often become a regular jumping and punching bag in exchange for instantaneous tickle torture moments.  There were also those times when he would take me on Saturday mornings on the lawnmower while he cut the grass only to have to stop to put his soon sleeping daughter in the bed.

During my younger and developing ball playing days, he would almost daily throw the ball with me in the front yard.  I must admit that before I developed control in my throwing he would frequently travel to the jungles of the azalea bushes to retrieve a wildly thrown ball.  He never complained but I think he secretly celebrated each time he didn’t accidentally stumble upon a water moccasin.  Yep, he feared those dreaded bushes.

When it came to basketball, well, he tried is about all I can say.  I think he mainly just wanted to make sure that there were no unneeded dents left in the vehicles.  The job of playing basketball was turned over to the neighborhood kids. Really?  You didn’t think I noticed?

When I hit my teen years, he prayed, like my mom, without ceasing.  My mother told me that once I became a teenager that something took over my mind and body that was not of God.  I cannot tell a lie.  If I asked my father that now he would very calmly say, “Why yes, sis, that might’ve been correct.”  Now you have to imagine that my father gets about as excited as a basset hound. And most of the time you need a cattle prod to check to make sure he’s still breathing.  Nope, it’s not a deformity, that I know of, it’s genetic.  He didn’t ever say a whole lot when I was younger. Now, he just claims that with 3 females in the house, he couldn’t get a word in.  All 3 of us were just hormonal as hell is the way I still see it.

dad

If there was a downfall, I would have to say that I didn’t learn to fix ANYTHING.  I know what a hammer is. Isn’t that good enough?  Granted, I was always playing with the neighborhood kids, but he was always fixin’ things or doing projects for or with momma. These days I just hope my wife can YouTube a video of how to do something and fix things.  I’m just not one to be able to fix things.  My job is to tell you when something doesn’t work.  And to provide motivation through entertainment.

He has seen me take some extremely difficult roads in life and has had to sit back and watch with tears in his eyes as his daughters were having to learn some heartbreaking lessons.  There have only been a handful of times that I’ve see him cry.  But, the tears I haven’t seen, I’m sure number in the millions and likewise the prayers.  He has watched me waste away from addiction and abuse and is currently seeing the severity of the effects of mental illness.  He also sees me continuing to battle my abusers through memories that can be paralyzing. He watches as I continue to move forward even if that is a crawl. With both he and my mom, there’s never a shortage of encouragement.

I can personally count on one hand the number of men that I consider “safe.” My #1 started with my father. I have never feared him in any way other than maybe another lecture on the power of positive thinking. He never drank, smoked, cussed, hollered, screamed or anything remotely aggressive in our house.  Heck, a basset hound doesn’t have the energy to do that. He taught me what love, honor and respect are all about. So, when I encountered some of my predators, my brain was seeing behavior that I couldn’t understand.  And it was at that time, that he held and comforted me as I cried about some of the evils of people and the world.

Everything that he has done for me cannot be conveyed in a post nor can the true emotions.  Even through just the little bit that I shared you can tell that he’s not my father.  He’s my DADDY!

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

It’s Not Easy Being Green

“It’s not easy being green”

3.18.15

“If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly, our whole life would change.”
– Buddha

The intention when talking about the controversial topic of medical cannabis is not to attempt at changing your personal views.  It’s simply to let you see how it has affected me personally since this blog is about my journey with DID.  Let me interject by saying that I will speak more than once on a particular topic and possibly say some of the same things. Ignore that and keep reading.  You have to understand that every day for me is like the movie Groundhog Day. Now back to our cannabis topic…..

One thing I learned about living in a ‘melting pot’ of a city like Albuquerque is that there are many different views  and many of them very liberal on many different topics especially addiction and recovery.  I must say that being raised on a ’12-Step’ way of thinking in a ’12-Step’ recovery community, I was pretty rigid on my beliefs about addiction and recovery too.  I’m still a big believer in the 12 steps and have watched the miracle of recovery happen to many people including my own clients.

Living in a much larger city than what I was raised in has shown me what addiction looks like from the very bottom in most cases.  I have never seen a substance abuse problem of this magnitude ever in my life.  Most of my clientele have consisted of the homeless or methadone clinic clients.  Both clientele are difficult due to the unique challenges not only each individual face emotionally but just in basic needs that most take for granted.  I have a heart that has been touched and shot with cupid’s arrow for these guys I can assure you.

What I was soon faced with was something I would come to a cross roads about the many years of “recovery” beliefs.  I started hearing more and more about the Medical Marijuana Program (MMJ) here in New Mexico.  I was instantly almost angered by the idea as marijuana as a medication.  I thought to myself, “Isn’t the drug problem bad enough?”  However, the idea was talked about, both sides of the debate for several years now.  The clients that I was treating were clients with prescription pills, alcohol, heroin and most anything else for addiction.  Heroin, Alcohol and Methamphetamine being the main substances used out here but not presenting for treatment for marijuana addiction.  (I did not just say that it doesn’t or can’t happen.)  I did have to get used to the idea of this flower being referred to as a medication.  But, my clients claimed that their own quality of life was improving despite their addiction to the other substances.  The doctor overseeing the program was also very non-chalant about marijuana as well.

In the meantime,  my mental health issues had been hitting the skids for a while and were now becoming ever more present in everyday life.  I was not able to control or hide the “quirks” that I might would have at home.  I’ve always thought that with psychiatric medications and their side effects that I was actually better before I started taking them to begin with.  My psychiatrist later told us that it’s no wonder that none of the seemingly every psyche medication know to man that nothing really worked.  He explained that because of my diagnosis that some medications work on some alters where other medications make conditions for others worse.  Finally, someone that could answer at least one daily frustrating question.  I needed something to “tame the madness.”  I wasn’t sleeping at all.  I was aggressive most of the time.  I couldn’t stay grounded.  It was total chaos.  I’ve had times since then but thank God not as frequent by a long shot.

My psychiatrist said to me, “About all there’s left is medical marijuana.  Would you be willing to try it?”  My wife, knowing the addiction history I have, looked at me and had told him before but reiterated the fact that I am an addict.  He said, “You know, just try it. If it becomes a problem, we’ll get you off it and you don’t ever have to touch it again.”  A cold chill went throughout my body.  “Is this what I’m about to have to sacrifice to live?” I thought.  We took the signed paper and agreed to talk about it. I was torn inside.  I knew what I had been taught about addiction.   I also knew what I was being forced to live with and how my quality of life had plummeted.  Mel, as educated as she was in the area of addiction said, “At this point, I’ll try anything.”  We were both being drained of our lives while trying to be moms to an infant.  Something had to give.  I hadn’t smoked pot in many years and didn’t know one thing about medical marijuana and it’s medicinal properties.  My psychiatrist said it could help my PTSD and I knew that my options had come down to weed or a 9mm.

Exactly one month to the day that I sent the application off to the state I received my MMJ card.  I had begun reading about the different strains and about edibles and anything related to this plant.  When I got my card the fear had begun to fade and I was ready to get my life a little more livable and quality just like veterans with PTSD.  We were off to get my new green meds.

I get to a local dispensary, where I was greeted and asked not what my medical condition was but what symptoms I was having.  They begin educating me on the difference in indica, sativa, high CBD strains, edibles, tinctures, wax, shatter, crumble and what might work with my conditions.  I was very nervous about this new endeavor and scared about spinning out of control in the most miserable place in the world….ADDICTION.

IMG_0002

That first night I began to use my “new” medication was the first night I was able to see something at the end of the tunnel.  I couldn’t make it out, but I was intrigued enough to keep going.  I was finally able to sleep.  I was able to function during the day.  I was able to come off IBS medication.  My depression was being managed as well as my suicidal ideations, mania and urges to self-harm.  My relationship with my wife and son began to improve.  This is not a cure all plant by any means.  I still have to put in the elbow grease and deal with my trauma every day.  This sure makes the process much more tolerable.

Notice I didn’t say that it managed not eradicated thoughts and behaviors.  These behaviors still happen more than even Mel knows.  A lot of people might think that medical marijuana is just a reason people can give to get high.  The truth is that people take medications all the time for the wrong reasons and others take for the right reasons.  Also, medication high in CBD can also have very little psychoactive effects making it possible to work or go to school and function with no problem.  Medical marijuana patients are also often thought of as a Cheech & Chong type of brain cell lacking type of functioning. This isn’t true either.  Most people make comments out of ignorance and I just tend to ignore a lot of it.  Because, until you have a condition where conventional medication doesn’t work or has side effects that trump the original condition, you don’t know that level of desperation.

Most people ask how it’s prescribed? There are no labels that say, “Smoke one bowl in the morning and one bowl at night.  Finish off with Cheetos.” It’s very trial and error type of a process.   You will find your level of medication and if you overdo it, you won’t do it again.  Reason: because while you got too high the only question you could think of and not answer was, “Where did I leave my butt? And how do I reach the Cheetos?”

Our son has only heard marijuana being referred to as, “Momma D’s medicine.”  We don’t make a big deal about it and treat it like it is…..medicine.  I have been on the program for 2.5 years now and have never gotten out of control with my using or had any problems arising related to addiction.  I’m off all medications except a couple supplemental meds to help with areas in the body that the marijuana can’t.  The PTSD and DID haven’t disappear and probably never will. That doesn’t mean I have to either.

So, while this topic isn’t very popular with a lot of people back south, for this family, it’s important that not only us but other families benefit from this plant as well.  I’m a believer and advocate for this medication even as an addiction professional.  More importantly, my wife is a big advocate for a plant that has helped to save her wife’s life.

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Passing The Torch

Passing the Torch

2.17.15

 “I know now that we never get over great losses; we absorb them, and they carve us into different, often kinder, creatures.” 
― Gail Caldwell, Let’s Take the Long Way Home: A Memoir of Friendship

Let me start off by saying that I am one of thousands of addicts/alcoholics whose life was touched by Sarah G. Pardue.  I remember vividly lying in my bed, depressed and mad at the world that I was sitting in some “rehab” that was meant for people who lived on skid row or had no teeth.  I was very quickly but gently told that addicts come in many different forms and that I just so happened to be one of them.  I didn’t know who she was but there was something about her that attracted me to her.  Not in a sexual way, but like there was more that I wanted and needed to know about this person.  She very gently told me, “Dana, we’ll take this one step at a time.”  I was so sour at the world that instead of thanking her for her kindness.  I simply said, “Really, is that available stitched on a pillow.” I promptly proceeded to roll my eyes.

I guess maybe that comment or instincts kicked in about how I might be as a client.  I was like a feral cat that was just angry and hurt.  She had that perfect balance for me.  She knew exactly how to push me without being condescending or aggressive.  And she knew that I needed that very nurturing side to let me know that she was a human that didn’t have any intentions on hurt me.

I, unfortunately, can’t remember all 90 days of being a patient at Pine Grove’s Women’s Next Step Program, but I remembered the therapist that would forever change my life in a very unique kind of way.  I was once handed a “character defect” worksheet where there were like one hundred or more on there that we were to circle as our personal character defects that have entangled our lives with addiction.  I very quickly looked at both sides; handed the sheet back to her and said, “Nope. None of these describe me or my current, past or present behavior.”  She had that “momma look” in her eye that can spark fear in Satan himself.  She simply and very non-confrontational said, “Really? Would you like us all as a group help you pick out which ones belong to you?”  I promptly answered, “No. I’m sure I can find a few.”

After 90 days of treatment at the “resort” as the husband at the time use to refer to it, I head out on my own with promises that I would one contact her in the event that I found my birth family or completed school.   She had done a lot of something most people don’t really know how to do for me that made a huge impression on my life……SHE LISTENED.  To that struggling drug addict, that meant more than that next ‘high’ for me.  I will admit that I didn’t go willingly.  I also didn’t leave willingly even though I had completed the program and for once I was safe from most things.  I cried because I was leaving a “special” and somewhat sterile environment from the outside world that was so mean.

About 5 years later, I tracked her down at work to tell her that I had gone back to school to become a drug/alcohol therapist and was currently in my undergraduate work.  I also called to tell her that I had found my biological brother, 2 half brothers, my birth mom and birth father and was flying to meet them.  We agreed to talk when I got back from my trip and that’s when the re-connection emotionally began for me.  From that point forward, I felt like I owed her the unpayable because she had done the one thing that no one besides my parents and certain close friends had never done, at that point, not give up on me.  She always saw some form of potential that even today I still can’t see.

I allowed her to slowly begin and to love me until I could love myself.  Under the hard exterior, I was melting like butter.  I was a kid again with an adult separate from my parents that seemed to love me and listen anytime I said anything.  She knew that I was still married to my ex-husband and I was also doing internships under her and a couple other people.  It was like everything had come full circle.  She and her now deceased husband Doug Pardue became like surrogate parents to me.

They used some very tough love approaches to some of my behaviors and some I didn’t appreciate.  I always, knew though, that it was done out of love.  They would have “good cop, bad cop” sessions with me that made the show Cops look like pretend.  I don’t know if some of you know what being “12 Stepped” means but  I can tell you that I’ve had both of their shoes broken off in my hind parts, more than once to get my attention, in an attempt to save my life from whatever behavior was consuming me.

For whatever reason, the stars lined up perfectly again and she is now simply called “mom.”  Our friendship grew into something much more special.  She has been a “life force” for me for the last 14 years.  They both saw me at my worst as a struggling addict of all kinds of addictions.  And they were both there celebrating the victory of completing my undergraduate degree in psychology while finally leaving a very emotionally and sexually abusive marriage.  Their compassion and my independence that I gained while becoming educated led to me believing that I was not nor would I ever be all those things I had been told all those years by him.  I was the only one that could make that change.  I wanted someone to come rescue me.  This time, though, the realization was that I had to do this scary part on my own.

I became part of their family and she and I had lots of talks about life.  We always told each other that we loved one another no matter what.  I also was getting to learn from the one that I considered as the “master” of counseling.  I watched her every move both at work and home.  I wanted to learn everything I could possibly learn from the “Yoda of 12-Step.” The key that she taught me about working with others was not with words but with actions.  She quite simply taught me the definition of compassion.  I’ve never lost the feeling of an innocent stranger that was getting paid a salary, that for once, cared about what I had to say about what had been done to me and how I felt.

A few months down the road she introduced me to my now legally married wife.  She played matchmaker which was never intended.  I’m glad the universe saw fit that we be together. We have a beautiful little boy and one on the way to thank all because of Sarah G. Pardue.  Both she and Doug took me under their wings and showed me again that a healthy love was possible.   I might not ever fully understand why they did that.  However, greatful doesn’t begin to describe the feelings I have about what they did both directly and indirectly in changing the direction of my life.

I did complete a master’s degree in counseling in 2009.  I have fallen in love with working with the ones that always seem to be the “leftovers of society.”  Truly, this is partially due to my own trauma.  But the other reason is because of the example that she set for me time after time.  She didn’t just talk recovery, she lived recovery.  The clients that she worked with saw this and you couldn’t help but to gravitate to something you don’t see every day in a person……AUTHENTICITY.

Sarah fulfilled her passionate dream of working with drug addicts/alcoholics and touched many lives.  There is only 1 of the 30 women that I was in treatment with, at the time that I stay in contact with.  She also happens to be the only one that never relapsed.  I’ve had my struggles for sure. And the other former patient has been a prayer warrior for Sarah during her time of grief and acceptance of the death of her husband and her own illness that took her life.

As I sit in this hospital room, waiting for her time to meet her maker, past friends and family members.  I also think about how much she impacted my life in a positive way.  I’m just one addict that she took time with and let them know that there was still value in a person who had been told for so long that there was no value left.  She did addiction work for 20+ years.  How many addicts/alcoholics lives did she impact in ways that no one will ever know?  To me her concept of counseling was very simple, “Read the person, not the book.”  She taught me things about counseling that no book could ever convey.  You just have to be able to watch the miracle happen.

What an example of true love, compassion and everything authentic that many of us as her patients, friends, family and co-workers got to see displayed even when she no longer went to work.  The word RECOVERY has her picture out beside it. What a beautiful person that God loved me enough to allow into and bless my life.  And because of her love and continuous fight against the war on the “disease of addiction” my future clients will also in some very special way will be touched by her as well.  With tears in my eyes and streaming down my face, I can say that there are many people that will always remember the legacy that she left on the hearts of many addicts/alcoholics that didn’t deserve another chance.

 I have taken that same compassion and concept into my own style of counseling.  She has passed the torch to be paid forward as she did with many of us.  I remember that everyone is individual and will have individual needs. Above all, she taught me compassion before judgment because in everyone there is some worth.  Thank you for loving me, Sarah G. Pardue!!!!!

And she is now with the love of her life, Doug Pardue.  You two will be dearly missed.

Sarah G. Pardue

7/11/53-2/11/15

   

“You were born a child of light’s wonderful secret— you return to the beauty you have always been.” 
― Aberjhani, Visions of a Skylark Dressed in Black

#Thispuzzledlife