MEMORIES

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

Bang! They Shot Me!

“It’s all fun and games until someone takes a dart to the eye.”

-Unknown

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. As spring begins to make its mark, I start looking forward to having the cubs come spend some time with me during their spring break. The cold nights are beginning to fade. The hummingbirds start scouting for feeders. And many people take this time to rekindle their relationships with the flowers and gardening.

For many of us winter time leaves us with the attitude of blahhhhhh. It certainly does for me. I enjoy leaving my door open and circulating the fresh cool air. Tink and Coco enjoy both the air and watching the bugs and birds of the season. And the boys enjoy going outside down to the creek and playing with water guns. But what never seems to have a particular season are nerf gun wars. And they show no mercy for their friends and family.

Copeland has a place in my little habitat where he takes his mattress and drags it to the top of wooden shelving about 8 feet off the ground and covered by a curtain where he can enjoy some quiet time away from me and big brother, Marshall. This area has become affectionately known as the “Eagle’s Nest.” He normally has a nerf gun close at hand along with his tablet. Marshall usually has his gaming headphones or talking to online friends. And I’m diamond painting or planning things to do while keeping my ears and eyes open taking it all in.

Everything seems to be going good until Copeland fires a random shot at me from behind the curtain nailing me directly in the eyebrow with a nerf gun bullet. I let out a loud, “Ow!” He laughs hysterically which seems to trigger Marshall’s curiosity. Now they both need and want to be a part of the action. I love my boys dearly. However, at this point, they care nothing about their mom or other bystanders’ need for safety. Those foamed bullets with plastic tips began flying from the barrels of various guns striking me in every area of my body. Nerf Gun War: Game On!

They have gathered every bit of the ammo with the exception of maybe five bullets that are given to me. I have absolutely no protective cover. And they have an entire curtain. And I have been forced to try and pick up the landed bullets while still being shot with perfect aim. They can’t seem to aim clothes perfectly in the clothes basket. Nor can they aim their trash into a garbage can. However, they seem to aim perfectly with nerf guns that can have military snipers shaking in their boots.y

I began to tell myself, “Their childish giggling will make it all worth it.”  Soon, though, my entire body is covered in red dots complimentary of hundreds landing shots on my now painful body. I search frantically for cover. Sometimes it’s a roll of toilet paper, towel, blanket or a garbage can. Anything that I can successfully reach, in the moment, becomes a form of cover. And then…I ran out of ammo. I think to myself, “Why didn’t we use protection?!” 

I call, “Time Out! I’m out of ammo!” They say, “Ok! Cease fire! Momma needs to get bullets!” I gingerly drop my cover and observe my wounds not knowing if I’m really alive. My eyebrows are now swollen. And the only feeling that I can identify is OUCH! I begin to hear whispers  and giggles among the offenders. I look up and Pow! I take another one directly to the middle of my forehead. They break out into total sugar drunken laughter while saying, “We love you, momma!” And I reply, “Stop lying! No you don’t! You just shot me in my nipple!” This makes the entire situation that much funnier to them. I say in my loudest and desperate voice, “I wish you would just eat a large clown turd!” And they continue to laugh hysterically.

As I frantically gather bullets near me and fling them in their general direction, they land a barrage of bullets again, completely crushing my self-confidence in my ability to win as if that was even a remote possibility. I hurriedly run into the middle of the floor gathering more bullets and I take one directly in the butt crack. “Ow!” I painfully scream. 

I take my gathered stash that fills the clip that I now have secured in my half working gun. I see my moment while they are making battle plans to get in a cheap shot like the many that my body now shows its evidence. I fire away only for my bullet to land about five feet from my position. They don’t even seem to notice. I fired several more times with the same ferocity. I still don’t even get close to landing a shot. I shout loudly, “This piece of crap gun with no boom!” And my youngest son Copeland laughs harder. I take my remaining bullets and realize my now harsh reality. I have to throw my bullets. They have sabotaged my ability to win this war.

The mayhem eventually dies down. Copeland and whoever else attempting to kill me climbs down out of the “Eagle’s nest” to come look at my battle wounds. They are still laughing and I have a bruised fingernail, swollen elbows, a pulled hamstring, inflamed eyelashes, diminished hearing in my right ear, a runny nose brought on by a direct shot, a burning belly button, red dots up and down my shins, an itchy armpit and farts that sound like a suffering animal needing euthanasia. These wounds I did not have prior to Camp Frat Pad WWIII. 

These moments while painful I wouldn’t trade for one minute. I am able to relive my childhood vicariously through my children with some Advil and an ice pack. And for them, it’s just another fun time with momma where we are making memories while they enjoy being kids. To them, it’s not about whether or not I’m gay or straight. Or how much money I have or don’t have. I’m just momma. And I can do nothing but smile. Later, I would cuddle with my “non-expanding recreational foam experts.”

“All is fair in love and Nerf war.”

-Unknown

***Don’t forget to watch the video! Copeland chose the song for this blog.***

#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

The Funny Reasons Kids Cry

“A 3 year-old is basically a walking, talking middle finger.”

-Amy Dillion

Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. I needed to switch gears just a bit from the trauma work. So, what is something that’s lighthearted and comical about our lives? The answer…PARENTING. It doesn’t matter if you’re straight, gay, trans, purple, white, black or any other category. If you have children they will all do things like this as they grow.

It is the most complex job that I’ve ever had. There are as many frustrations as there are hysterical moments. We as parents love our children dearly. There are also those times especially toddler meltdowns that can have me in the room over in a corner  while in the fetal position and biting my arm.  A momma hamster would’ve eaten said screaming child.

Due to my trauma, I cannot tolerate the cries of babies and children. Asking them to stop is apparently the equivalent of asking them to stop breathing. Needless to say, I am so thankful that the boys are out of those stages. However, the uncharted waters of puberty are now upon me. They still aren’t always sure what bothers them but they just hiss at everything. And all I can say at this point is that “if God wants to get me back for the way I was as a teenager, it’s going to be a hell of a ride.” Here is a video of some of the funniest kids meltdowns.

Any parent from anywhere in a public setting understands the familiar cries. That  moment when you think to yourself, “Yep, it’s nap time for that kid.” When Marshall was little and Mel and I went to Walmart, we headed straight to the dog beds where we would get a comfy looking one and put it in the cart.  We would give Marshall his bottle and pray for a miracle. It might not have lasted forever but it was so nice.  And then inevitably a loud sound or the screeching of a kid’s tantrum would wake him up.  How many times did I want to go up to a parent and say, “I hope you can’t find your kids binkies  the next time they want one. And when you try to go to the store to get new ones they are all sold out.  And then it’s “No Binkie Night” at your house!” Check out some of these funny pictures of children losing their minds over the simplest things.

Marshall was very young and we were getting ready for church.  On the way to the car he spotted his little swimming pool and made a beeline to it.  I stopped him just shy of soaking his entire outfit and shoes.  You would’ve thought that I had just removed all the air from his life.  We had to go through the five stages of grief and loss. And the crocodile tears made me feel like a horrible parent because I just made the additional liquid in his eyes appear. We all made it through that moment and Marshall just turned 13. And now I’m beginning to see, at 49 years old, that my parents were not crazy when I was younger. I made them that way.

I hope that you could have a few laughs as I have. Enjoy the ride of parenting.  Our little guys are so worth it all. And so are all of you!

“The average toddler expends 6,500 calories per day. Consumes 1.5 bites of food per meal, and grows 3 pajama sizes per night.”

-Unknown

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

#Thispuzzledlife

darnold1975

Silent Screams (Poetry)

The innocent ones you preyed on.

The innocent you hurt.

They’re nothing to you,

And you sprinkled her over dirt.

Mommy wasn’t there.

And daddy wasn’t either.

Is that how you make

This monster into evil?

I didn’t know who you were,

And I didn’t know the signs.

You were our friends

But now all that’s left behind.

She was always so hungry

But I didn’t see.

“Do you have anything to eat?”

“Because my mom is starving me.”

You kept our baby and we thought you had love.

And had you hurt him like you did them

You would’ve been nothing but a “WAS.”

You hurt your wife and also your daughter.

What were you doing? Bundles in the corner?

How can this be it doesn’t make sense.

Why is the energy feeling so tense?

Something wasn’t right and I didn’t know then.

But in your desperation you killed a dear friend.

Your daughter got away but not unscathed

She hates your guts! Now isn’t that a shame?

You ruined their lives and what you didn’t see,

Is how exactly how your evil also affects me.

I wake every morning and can’t sleep at night. 

Because my friend is dead and you can still see daylight.

The guilt and shame is more than I can bear. 

And how many times have I wanted to die in my chair?

You left me frozen with fear because I couldn’t believe what I saw. 

Your wife you cremated her soon so you wouldn’t have to deal with the law. 

Detective I don’t have evidence but I feel it in my gut.

There’s something wrong here just look down in the muck.

I know I sound crazy being a snitch.

Please do something because I’m not going to end up in the ditch.

Evidence ma’am is what I need to have.

They were always hungry and she was scared but that didn’t last.

I’m telling you now she is the one.

And I will not take the bullets out of my gun.

Aren’t you the ones that are supposed to help?

And that’s why I’m here because I took the next step.

They lived a few houses down just right up the street.

“Ma’am you are the one that has a mental health history?”

Fear kept me silent as it always has.

Red and blues lights mean nothing

And now I sit here confused and all that jazz.

That situation I will never forget.

Who it hurt? Who it killed? and I’m forever in debt.

How do “I” live with this? I constantly think.

And, yes, there was a time when all I could do was drink.

Because the monster she was and who I called a friend.

And these horrible thoughts that will NEVER EVER end.

I didn’t hear them either but I do in my dreams,

Munchausen by proxy silenced their screams.

The details I know but they will die with me.

Because again I’m that “dumb child” and no one would believe me.

*Don’t Forget to watch the video!*

#Thispuzzledlife

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

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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