This Puzzled Life is a mental health and recovery blog exploring addiction, trauma healing, LGBTQ experiences, humor, and the strange moments that shape us.
“The internet is a dangerous place. If you are not careful it will consume you and rob you of your happiness.”
-Germany Kent
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today I want to talk about something that continues to make its mark while constantly evolving. Internet/Social Media Challenges can be fun and inspiring. However, there are challenges that are dangerous and even fatal. I can’t cover them all. I can, however, bring into focus several of the dangerous challenges that have circulated the internet. I cannot fit all these on one blog so this will be a series. Some of the videos I have posted are probably over exaggerated and make for some good laughs. For those who have suffered injuries and death, the humor of the videos quickly disappears.
First of all, I want us to look back at when internet challenges first began. The earliest examples that I can find begin around 2001 with the debut of the Cinnamon Challenge and the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. The Cinnamon challenge was a video of someone trying to eat a spoonful of dry cinnamon in under 60 seconds which went viral. Cellulose fibers in cinnamon are considered responsible for triggering allergic hypersensitivity reactions which make for an extremely uncomfortable experience. The chemical coumarin which is found in cinnamon is moderately toxic to both the liver and kidneys if taken in large quantities. This challenge peaked on YouTube in January 2012. Twitter reported that at its peak the videos reached around 70,000 per day.
The challenge came with dangers that were ignored by its impulsive teens which included: Lung infections, Choking, Gagging, Burning, Itching, Allergic reactions, Vomiting, Pneumonia, Inflammation and scarring of lungs, Collapsed lungs
The ALS Ice Bucket Challenge was not considered dangerous, mostly due to raising money for ALS research. The ALS Ice Bucket Challenge was seen as safe because it raised funds for ALS research. And gained notoriety on the coat tails of rising platforms like YouTube, Twitter and Instagram. However, any type of action that is done without knowing the possible risks involved can have some damaging effects. And teens don’t weigh the consequences. They just act and hope for the best. I can honestly say that I speak from personal experience and include myself.
Planking
Planking itself is not dangerous because you are trying to mimic a piece of wood. However, when the challenge escalates to dangerous or risky behaviors such as on top of dangerous animals, or on top of a chimney can make this seemingly safe activity dangerous.
Hot Pepper Challenge
This is one of those challenges that I was never curious about trying. Capsaicinoids is a class of compounds that make pepper taste hot. Over time a rating scale based on the amount of heat in a product are measured in Scoville units. The level of heat that’s in a bell pepper is my level of heat tolerance at an amazing 0 Scoville units. And when I want to go all rogue on the spicy side of life, I will venture into common black pepper.
We all know people that can tolerate spicy foods. And these people leave me flabbergasted at their tolerance. I would rather have my toenails pulled off with pliers than have to eat something spicy. But there are times when we deal with the spice in order to eat the food we like, crawfish. I am the big baby at the table that will be wiping snot and complaining about the heat.
The Hot Pepper Challenge, to me, is absolutely ridiculous. Call me whatever you want. I can’t stand getting burned in any way. I am the biggest whiny ass when I get sunburned so hot peppers can “suck it” in my world. A quick internet search about the Scoville unit level that is considered dangerous is not listed. However, anything around the 1 million Scoville units can cause significant discomfort. One million Scoville units, for example, is like the Ghost Pepper. To put this into perspective, the jalapeno pepper ranges from 2,500 to 8,000 Scoville Heat Units.
In extreme “super-hot” peppers in this category have been known to cause potentially dangerous side effects like vomiting, gagging, passing out or acute stroke. Check out the videos to see how quickly a dare goes to instant regret.
I hope some of the information you’ve read helps you to understand how potentially dangerous internet challenges are. Unbelievably, it gets even more dangerous. In the next couple of blogs I will talk about the other internet challenges that are much worse on the scale of danger. Thank you for reading! Please pass along this information to friends, family and co-workers to bring awareness. Take what you can use and leave the rest. Subscribe to my blog and never miss another post.
“This is how betrayal starts…not with big lies, but with small secrets.”
-Shalini Joshi
Now let’s continue…
Lisa did update us on Kathleen’s self-harm issue that had begun to dissipate. And now she was also in therapy. I always asked about how the therapy was going because I hadn’t left my abusive therapist yet. So, I became very protective when it came to that topic. She would always put my fears to rest by telling me that she had a great therapist that really knew how to work with Kathleen.
Landri would also have a big scare with her heart that left her almost completely bed bound. She had become so weak that she could no longer support her own weight. But eventually she would regain her strength. Slowly but surely, she wasn’t so pale. She was beginning to put on weight, and it looked really good on her. And then she started getting out and walking. They had moved onto the same military base as us. They lived only about 6-7 houses down the street.
We had not been around them in a little while due to our own issues with my mental health. And I had already begun living life in solitude where I would remain for the next few years. One day I had gone out to check the mail when I saw someone walking towards me on the sidewalk. I soon realized that it was Landri. I spoke to her and told her how good she looked and how happy I was for her. We made a very superficial conversation because I was in a very deep depression at the time. The following is the last conversation that she and I would have together. And it continues to haunt me to this day.
Landri: “Dana, I’m scared of Lisa.”
Me: “What do you mean you’re scared?”
Landri: “I don’t really want to go into our personal problems, but she’s become very aggressive.”
Me: “Wait! Do I need to throw some aggression her way?”
Landri: “No, that would just make it worse. Just remember what I’m telling you.”
Me: “Ok. Promise me that if you need us you will call.”
Landri: “No, it’s nothing like that. She’s just spent all of our money on drugs. And she doesn’t like me questioning her about any of it.”
Me: “Ok. Well, we are here to help if you need us.”
Landri: “Thank you so much for being such good friends.”
She had convinced me enough to pacify my obsessive nature when someone is being dominated. I also understood how telling someone about a perpetrator can make the situation worse. And coming from a domestic violence situation I felt that fear for her. Later that day when Mel got home from work, I told her about the situation. She was likewise just as perplexed as I was. I told her everything from beginning to end about our encounter. She agreed with me to stay out of the situation. And to just be available if necessary.
A week later, Landri was dead. She apparently died in her sleep. But now that conversation that was stuck on replay was never-ending. I didn’t know what to do as the news completely stunned me. I told her to find out funeral arrangements. I couldn’t let the thought go that, “Lisa just murdered one of our closest friends.” I would battle in my mind thinking, “That’s absurd to think that we would be as close to a situation that was that dangerous and not know something was wrong.” And it has always been rebuttaled with the very conversation that we had asking me not to get involved.
Mel came in from work a few days later and said, “You’re not going to believe what I’m about to tell you.” I said, “Ok well that’s not a good sign.” She very begrudgingly said, “Lisa has already had her cremated.” I scream, “WTF?!” And I began shaking. It was then that I realized that there was a high likelihood that Landri was murdered. It was difficult for me to look Lisa in the face the next time we saw her. Mel asked, “Lisa, what happened?” She begins telling us the story that she had become very weak, very quickly. And how they were laying in their bed together and they both took a nap. But when Lisa woke up, Landri was dead. I told her, “I just saw Landri several days ago and she looked the best I’ve ever seen her.” Lisa said, “Yea the doctors said that sudden death was a possibility.” I didn’t tell her what Landri herself told me. And without warning Lisa and Kathleen moved away and weren’t answering us in any way.
We had gone to the local library where we were known frequently. Mel tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Look who’s here.” I turned around and I must’ve turned white. We saw Lisa and Kathleen before they saw us. Kathleen wasn’t in a wheelchair. But when we made eye contact, we saw Lisa mumble something to Kathleen. She was just super excited to see us. And then her demeanor turned very solemn.
That situation was many years back now. Mel and the boys moved back to Mississippi. And I moved to Texas to work with “coach” on my PTSD issues. While living out there Mel called me one day and said, “You’ll never guess who I talked to.” Agreeing with her I said, “Probably not. What’s up?” Me said, “I just got off the phone with Kathleen.” I said, “Shut up! What’s going on with her?” Mel told me, “Well, she said that Lisa had made everything up about her military and EMT service. And that neither Kathleen nor Landri had a terminal condition. She was starving them. That’s why Kathleen passed out so much and broke bones. Lisa is now homeless. And Kathleen has moved on with her life complete with therapy.” It took me a few minutes to respond because those horrible gut feelings began flooding every part of me. Several years had gone by since that horrible situation but it still stung with great ferocity. I told Mel, “You know it’s bothered me ever since about that we seemed to know the truth. If it doesn’t seem right, it probably isn’t right.” She said, “Yea, but what proof did we have at the point when we thought that? We couldn’t just go into the police station and talk to a detective only to say, “Well we don’t have evidence, but I do have a gut feeling. They couldn’t exhume the body because it was cremated.” And the words that my ex-husband repeatedly said to me, “Nobody will believe you. You’re the one with the mental problems” kept me silent once again.
Nothing has ever been proven or investigated related to that situation. One of the many things that has continued to plague my mind is the fact that we left our oldest baby in their care so that we could actually go on a much-needed date. They baby sat Marshall many, many times. If something had happened to him, I would’ve killed her without a second thought. Some of my “mommy guilt” about being a parent holds space for the event that taught me that evil is still alive and well in this world. I don’t wish her death. But I do wish her a miserable existence until the end of time. She didn’t care about our child or our family. But what was the saddest was that she didn’t care about her own family.
At the same time, I was dealing with another “friend” who was also very manipulative. And I was also being abused by my therapist. After all of this, I lost my damn mind. The first thing I remember writing about this was the poem titled Silent Screams. The only way that I get through another day with the constant barrage of memories about this situation is to give myself grace in the fact that everything was so hidden in a tangled web of lies. She was a manipulator that was even more skilled than my ex-husband. I think that my anger around this is about the fear that I experienced after realizing how much time Marshall had spent in their care. There is a certain amount of grief that comes from losing those relationships. We lost what we thought “was” instead of what it “wasn’t.
Munchausen by Proxy is actually pretty rare. Unless,of course, it’s happening to you. I recently got interested in the case of Gypsy Rose. She was also at the mercy of her mother who had Munchausen by Proxy. Except that Gypsy Rose murdered her mom and subsequently went to prison. She served her time and is now out of prison. She has talked about all of the unnecessary treatments and procedures that she had to go through for absolutely no reason. And so did Kathleen.
I don’t advocate murder. However, through the many years of trauma at the hands of some truly evil people, I can’t totally understand the rationale. Lisa was still allowed to live her life. She has nothing but one tooth and her lies that are continuing to be spread onto other unsuspecting victims. The thoughts and feelings that have stayed with me since that day are forever in my mind.” Again, it’s just another traumatic event that has taught me to question everyone’s motives including friends and especially family. I’ve never thought that I should require proof of terminal illness or military service. But maybe I should.
“But the memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one’s life, organically, forever. Even when you shake them out, they’ve left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul.”
-Julie Gregory
Affirmation: “I am strong and can overcome the influence of manipulative individuals.”
“Munchausen by Proxy may be the single most complex and lethal form of maltreatment known today.”
-Julie Gregory, Sickened: The True Story of a Lost Childhood
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about a serious mental health disorder known as Munchausen Syndrome. I know that this is a topic that a lot of people like to sweep under the rug because it just seems too grotesque and unimaginable to talk about. However, the fact is that the disorder remains alive and well in some individuals. And the signs and symptoms are hidden in plain sight.
Munchausen and Munchausen by Proxy fit under the diagnostic criteria for Factitious Disorder. A Factitious disorder is a conscious and intentional feigning or production of symptoms due to a psychological need to take on the sick role in order to obtain an emotional gain. This is not to be mistaken with Hypochondriasis. Which is an obsession with fears that one has a serious, undiagnosed disease. The symptoms are not created consciously (nih.gov, 2006).
Munchausen Syndrome is still considered to be the most extreme form of factitious disorder. They intentionally deceive others by pretending to be sick. They fake symptoms or make symptoms seem worse than they actually are. And speaking to them you would think that they are an endless pit of medical knowledge. What they do is produce some medical or psychological problems and study everything they can find on it until they’re comfortably able to construct an ongoing story.
Munchausen by Proxy is where the behavior is imposed onto another person. The biggest factor in keeping their narratives alive is manipulation. And they are exceptionally good at it. My exposure to Munchausen by Proxy has left me with a lot of shame, guilt, regret and suicidal ideations. I have tried to extend myself “grace” about this situation knowing that had I understood the harsh reality sooner, I could’ve done something about it.
When we moved to Albuquerque, NM we found us a lesbian group that became our home for a short while. Mel and I had dreams and aspirations of being parents one day which eventually distanced us from them. But not before we met Lisa, Landri and Kathleen. “Two moms and a child? We’ve totally got to meet them!” I told Mel. It didn’t take us long to realize that we had more in common with this family than realized. Lisa, who was clearly a “top” and the strong family leader, told us that they were from Laurel, MS. Very surprise I said, “Wait What?! You mean to tell us that we just met people from Laurel, MS that are a lesbian family?” She confirmed again. I thought, “Holy Crap, this is what we’ve been needing. Someone from the south that understands our frustrations.” Our relationship was soon off to the races.
Their daughter was a truly compassionate being who appeared reserved but loved our son, Marshall. And Marshall loved them all. And Kathleen definitely danced to the beat of her own drum. The connection was so close that it appeared that this was a friendship that would last a lifetime. Lisa told us that she was a retired military colonel. She was always dressed in some type of military get-up. And she had also been an EMT and worked on an ambulance. I was happy that I now had someone to exchange “trauma junkie” stories with. She seemed to deal with it better than I was doing and was interested in how she did it. Her partner, Landri, was very frail looking but spicy in her own sense. She quit working due to her chronic health issues regarding cardiac problems. They told us that their daughter, Kathleen, had been diagnosed as a child with a terminal heart condition. And that she likely would not make it to adulthood. They warned that there were very frequent hospital visits sometimes close to being fatal. But we loved all of them and they loved us.
We were prepared to love and accept them right where they presented themselves. We never knew that we needed to have someone prove their medical conditions or a traumatic past. We were on the “therapy” side of life which fit comfortably with our level of empathy. And for the first time while living in Albuquerque there were people who understood what it was like to grow up and come out in the south.
Since we lived on a guarded military base, when she would come through the gate dressed in some type of military attire she accepted the salutes as a proud retired colonel. We planned to celebrate the next Thanksgiving together in grand southern style. Mel and I spent several hours in the kitchen cooking our favorite southern dishes. The finished product was a full spread that would make our ancestors smile. But right before they came over Lisa called to ask us if we could make Kathleen some macaroni and cheese because she didn’t eat regular Thanksgiving foods. We both thought that was strange. But we didn’t question anything due to possible nutritional needs.
When they arrived, Kathleen came running into our house. She grabbed the freezer door and swung it open while asking, “What have you got to eat?” I looked at Mel like, “Are you watching this?” Shocked and completely bewildered I very clearly remember thinking, “For someone who was raised in the south, that behavior was considered very disrespectful.” We gave the cooked macaroni to her after she also went to the pantry looking for something to eat. Her behavior was startling. She grabbed the macaroni and went and ate like she hadn’t eaten before. Mel and I spoke about it later and we felt half angry and half in utter disbelief. But I also noticed that Lisa was trying to ignore the “elephant in the room.” Almost as though the behavior was unexpected. That evening went on without any other noticeable issues.
Being a preemie, Mashall had different nutritional needs than a normal baby. He drank pediasure to supplement his much-needed calories. Lisa stated that Landi was supposed to be on supplemental drinks like that for adults, but they couldn’t afford it. We gave them a few drinks which they greatly appreciated. But soon they wanted the majority of what we were receiving for Marshall through the CHIPS program. So, we had to put a stop to that. Again, the whole situation wasn’t sitting right with us. However, there were no alarm bells just a “that’s odd” moment.
Kathleen was admitted many times to the hospital for injuries that were sustained by passing out. She would literally break bones when she fell. Lisa always explained that it was due to her congenital heart problem. And honestly, we have been close friends for a while now while these medical issues continued. We were also told that they were in a support group for kids and families with the same diagnosis. And they would tell us when Kathleen’s friends from the group passed away.
She was given all kinds of recognition and special treatment because different organizations were aware that she would not be living the fullest life that everyone else would. We were even invited to go to the state fair free as guests of Kathleen’s. We also attended a rodeo there complete with a special meet and greet with members of a band that was to be singing that night. She always traveled by wheelchair or golf cart because of how weak she could become.
Lisa came to us one day to tell us that Kathleen was self-harming. And they knew that we had some basic knowledge about what causes the behavior. I asked Lisa,” Is she being abused by anyone that you know of?” Lisa of course answered, “No.” But she did tell us that she had suffered a breakup and that because she was getting older, she also began to fear dying. And she would also tell us that prior to moving to New Mexico that Kathleen’s biological father passed away from terminal cancer. We agreed that due to the extreme situation that was occurring in their family that this behavior was possible. We advised her to seek out a therapist before it got out of control and caused severe scarring or possibly escalating to suicide. No matter what we tried to do to help our friends, we always felt helpless.
Landri still seemed to become progressively worse. And soon we were told that Landri would also have heart failure. I remember Mel and I were thinking how horrible it was for a family to go through all of that at one time. And how helpless we felt, not being able to do anything. What we did know was how to be friends with someone and support them emotionally the best that we could.
They supposedly decided as a family to go to California to get married legally. At the time New Mexico was considered a neutral state regarding marriage equality. That meant that you could not legally have a same sex marriage performed in the state. However, they would honor marriages from other states. Lisa told us that, “Kathleen wanted that wish to come true.” I thought, “well maybe that’s what they all needed.” However, there was a very dark and sinister part of that family that would not become known for several more months. It began in the shadows so it won’t survive in the light. This story has one more part. Keep reading!
“Munchausen By Proxy is a desire to have attention and pity at the same time. So maybe all narcissists have Munchausen By Proxy.”
-Unknown
Affirmation: “I am resilient, and I can overcome challenges.”
“I was tired of pretending that I was someone else just to have a good relationship with people, for the sake of having friendships.”
-Kurt Cobain
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! I thought today, while staying in line about mental health awareness, it would be a clever idea to explore why we pretend that we are ok when we aren’t. And what are the reasons for doing this?
When someone asks, “How are you doing?” Most of the time they just expect the typical answer, “I’m fine.” Truthfully, though, most people do not don’t give a shit about how you are really doing. And when you tell them, you are met with an instant cellular retraction. You are seen as boundaryless or too overbearing. The truth, however, is that most people don’t know how to deal with anything that’s perceived as abnormal. My opinion is, “You asked how I was doing? So, guess what? I’m going to tell you exactly how I’m doing.” I do that sometimes just to see the reaction of others.
When I was doing my undergraduate studies, one of my beloved professors explained this very thing. And ever since, I’ve assessed those theories only to prove them right repeatedly. I am not saying this as a blanket statement. But the truth is the truth. People back away from what they don’t understand. That’s about them, not you.
It does not speak about you as a human being. We have been conditioned as human beings, as a species, to be accepted and wanted despite the personal cost. Social media is all about presenting something that the average person considers useful in some way. It does not mean that what you witness is how someone is truly feeling. The conditioning that is implied is that without millions of followers, gets labeled as unworthiness. So, we put on a happy face and try to stay in some form of societal compliance as “normal” which doesn’t have a definitive definition. But do you know what the term “normal” actually is? It’s a setting on a washing machine. The term “normal” is actually a subjective term that doesn’t have a concrete definition. It’s nothing more than someone’s interpretation and social constructs of mainstream behavior.
When we tell people we are ok when we really aren’t, is a “hail Mary” attempt at acceptance. But when we do that, we deny our true feelings and experiences. A big turn off when dealing with people is how they tell me how I should or shouldn’t feel about a situation. What this does is minimize the person’s feelings. It’s not up to you to tell them that their feelings are “ridiculous.” However, the damage has been done. You just sent an unspoken message to the individual who asked the question, that they are not worthy of your time. And it’s incredibly hurtful. And since they aren’t a therapist trained on how to respond appropriately and therapeutically, the damage that is potentially caused can be catastrophic. So, instead of a positive act of vulnerability, the vulnerability is now covered in shame. We can develop a fear of vulnerability based on that one experience. And we also tend to prematurely judge every person and conversation thereafter in the same light.
I can’t tell you how many times I have been told that my fears and phobias are preposterous. But the situation that caused the fear was in fact very real. And its people, who have never gone through the same precipitating factors nor situation, who seem to have all the “correct” answers. I have been told some of those very things when it took everything I had to just be vulnerable enough to tell someone what happened. It has created so many therapeutic “pitfalls” because of the fear and shame that I was left with from the very beginning of my trauma history. So many times, I could’ve gotten help sooner, but I suffered in silence because of how unworthy I felt trying to tell the wrong person that I needed help. And sadly, there are many people who die by their own hand. Shame was the killer.
Sometimes all you need to do is just hold a “non-judgmental” space for someone to talk. You don’t have to, nor do you need to have the answers. You are NOT a therapist. You are a “sounding board” at best. However, “non-judgmental” space is usually not common unless you’re sharing space with a competent therapist who understands the powerful and most sought-after form of safety that deserves the utmost respect.
The most supportive thing you can say to someone who approaches you needing that “sacred space,” is, “I might not know how to help you, but your feelings are valid and I will listen supportively until we can find a mental health professional to help you.” That simple statement can change the course of someone’s life. You don’t have to be smart. You just have to be a HUMAN. Thanks for reading! Keep smiling!
Affirmation: I am a work in progress, and that is okay.
“What mental health needs is more sunlight, more candor, and more unashamed conversation.”
-Glenn Close
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Today is the first day of the month of May, which is also Mental Health Awareness Month. And unfortunately, the topic of mental health is often skirted or disregarded as something that isn’t acknowledged because of the “shame factor.” However, it is not a topic to be ashamed about. Mental health is such an integral part of being human and is something that must be discussed.
What are the issues surrounding the topic of mental health? Well, part of the problem involves societal stigmas, fear of judgment, and a lack of understanding. And the stigma usually surrounds negative stereotypes, incorrect information and cultural beliefs or a sign of personal failure. Give me a second to go a little more in depth about these issues.
1. Lack of Understanding-most people have little knowledge about mental health conditions which can lead to misconceptions and fear. And this includes immediate family, friends, co-workers, medical personnel and acquaintances. I have tried in my own ways to educate people about mental illness, as my daily living has revolved around the mental health system for the majority of my life. But no matter how much you try to explain things to people, they just can’t seem to let go of old ideas and opinions.
2. Negative stereotypes-Thanks to social media, mental illness is portrait in the media that mental illness is considered a sign of weakness, dangerous or violent. This further solidifies negative attitudes. While some of this is true regarding violent individuals, the majority of us are not dangerous people. And religious affiliation can also be another source of negative stereotypes. You wouldn’t believe some of the nasty and fearful looks that I get from simply wearing a baseball cap about PTSD. Sometimes I get asked, “What branch of the military were you in?” I simply tell them, “I didn’t serve our country. I developed PTSD because I’ve been abused for a large majority of my life. So, technically, I’ve been fighting a war my entire life.” They usually silently turn around and back away. Some have asked, “Why do you tell people?” And my answer is always, “Because I’m not ashamed of having a mental illness. It is what it is. And I’m not responsible for other’s ignorance. I simply state the true facts and give the shame back to where it belongs.
3. Fear of judgment-many people fear judgment for their mental illness. One thing you have to understand is that people are usually their own worst critic. So, your judgment will never be as potent and the person with the mental illness. In my case, telling someone that I have Multiple Personality Disorder makes people retract, mainly because their only source of reference is through Hollywood. And we all know that Hollywood never really tells a story accurately. It induces the “fear factor” in most people. And when I speak this truth, most people are also taken aback because I’m so forth coming with my own struggles. You might notice my quirkiness at times. However, you would never know when my other parts switch out unless you are around me and I explain who they are and their function. I don’t fear judgment from people. I embrace their ignorance and do my best to “stomp out stupidity.”
4. Fear of discrimination-people fear losing jobs, housing or other opportunities due to their condition. Look, I have lived under a cloud of discrimination since the day I was born. I’m gay. I have a mental illness. And I love to smoke weed. But I’m also very educated. And somehow when you are “out and proud” that automatically puts a label on you. And well, that’s their problem not mine. Even within my own family, I face discrimination. And when I speak about mental health topics, I’m revered as not being nearly as intelligent as others. Even though I have a master’s degree in counseling psychology which qualifies me to be able to diagnose. Make no mistake, I might’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life, but I am in no way dumb. And I face discrimination head on.
I completely understand that everyone isn’t at the same level of progress with these issues. And it has taken years of therapy to bring me to the point where I am. Mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of. And most people have mental illness in varying degrees. However, a lot of it has never been diagnosed. Individuals hide and suffer in silence because of the shame that they carry regarding this topic. And you absolutely shouldn’t be. Mental health is just as important and maybe more so than physical health. Because poor mental health can also cause physical discomfort.
Embrace what is and be responsible enough to get in therapy. You will be glad you did. Cannabis has increased my quality of life much better than pharmaceuticals. And this is another topic that is shame based. There are those still who are “closeted” cannabis users who also reap the benefits of the plant. And as someone who lived in a closet for many years, I can tell you that no one is meant to be smothered and silenced. Everyone deals with mental illness and fears the repercussion of others differently and at their own pace. I can’t speak for anyone else, but with me, you will always be accepted.
Educate yourself about your own mental illness not based on movies, other people’s subjective opinions, but on the scientific research and real truth. Face your fears and get involved in therapy and do the challenging work that will benefit you overall. And let the opinions of others roll off your back like water on a duck. Their opinions are just that. They are not facts. It is purely unadulterated ignorance. But that can change if they are willing to do so.
If you are an ally on the topic of mental illness but still have questions, we won’t cook you or eat you. Respectfully ask for some clarification. It is a horrible feeling to suffer in silence over half truths and out right lies regarding mental illness. And sadly, I have had friends who refused to go to therapy for those reasons. And they are now dead from suicide. But everyone is entitled to love, care and compassion. And, yes, that also includes you. Thanks for reading! Stay healthy. Stay happy. Keep smiling. And keep reading this blog.
Affirmation: I trust myself to make decisions that align with my values and goals.
“Never underestimate a cycle breaker. Not only did they experience years of generational trauma, but they stood in the face of the trauma and fought to say, “This ends with me.” This comes at a significant cost. Never underestimate a cycle breaker.”
-Nate Postlewait
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Today, I want to talk about being a “cycle breaker.” This has been one of the most difficult areas of my life. There have been and still are areas of my life where I’m determined to break the cycle of unhealthy thoughts, behaviors and relationships. Even if you think that your family should be the “example family” for the community, there are probably still issues within your particular family system that has left a legacy of a behavioral way of life. Sometimes this is healthy, dysfunctional or toxic. Even if it appears to primarily affect one person, it’s still an unhealthy family cohesiveness.
I think we first must understand what a “cycle breaker” is. This individual is intentionally trying to change multi-generational family patterns. They have to get down in the gutters into family origins of the behaviors to seek out unhealthy patterns. This person must achieve deep introspection and intentional behavior changes. And “Oh how very frustrating this can be.”
I have already written many times about how familial patterns can affect us all. What frustrated me as a minor was that I felt completely powerless to change anything including myself. What I did was take on the role of a survivor in any way possible. I fought back in ways that scared people. I have fought back in ways that isolated myself. Sometimes I get so triggered by a tone, word or a statement that it throws me back into that fighting stance. And I developed armor that worked so incredibly well for self-preservation. By the time I reached adulthood, the armor that my mind created for itself was one that knew no bounds. Every day of my life involved a fight for survival. But even when I removed myself from the abuse, my brain still thought that it was “fight time.” So, the chaos followed me everywhere I went. I so desperately wanted away from the chaos. But the fact of the matter was that I didn’t know how to operate in healthy relationships.
When I met Mel, I had just left my ex-husband. I had my goal of completing my education and there was nothing that would prevent me from finishing. Somehow, I just knew that education would make a significant difference in my life. What we soon realized was how very deeply rooted my lifetime of trauma was in my ability to function as a professional, spouse, mother, friend and family member. I honestly thought that once I left “him” things would go back to a healthier version of normal. But it absolutely did not! I would have uncontrollable rages that scared everyone that I came in contact with. Many times, I have no recollection of this happening. Then Mel started videoing me when I was like that to show professionals what was happening. She would also show me the video and I was horrified. I clearly remember telling her, “I would never do something like that!” But frame by frame I watched it happen repeatedly. Perplexed by the whole situation, I began trying to really understand my behavior. I didn’t have a therapist, at the time, who could tell me what was happening. I did eventually receive the diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder which answered many questions.
The more I studied myself, the more that I realized that I was carrying on the cycle of past traumas. While my armor worked for many years, it had suddenly become very detrimental. I looked at Mel one day and said, “Oh My God! I’m treating you like he treated me.” To come to that realization was the defining moment of when I decided that I would be a “cycle breaker.” And what a terribly slow and arduous process it has been. I didn’t know how to think. I didn’t understand the intense emotions that I was feeling. And I couldn’t stop the rage no matter what I did. I saw the destruction that I was causing and the effects that it was having on both me and Mel. And it was honestly one of the most devastating points in my life.
I initially had a very compassionate therapist in Albuquerque. Though the depth of my trauma needed more specialization. So, I went to another therapist, who was extremely narcissistic, and began emotionally abusing me. She knew all of my trauma history, but she still dominated me emotionally. And I “cow towed” to her like I was still being controlled by the ex. I stayed much longer than I should’ve. And the damage that was done was colossal.
Mel contacted a professional at a facility and told her about how dire our situation was. It was over a year before I finally decided to go to treatment. I have had some horrible experiences with mental health facilities. And the trauma of that also made me strike out in fear and anger. It’s almost like having a baby with a colic. No matter where I turned, I was scared, and it showed. But through my trauma, I learned that nicely asking someone to stop or leave me alone didn’t work. What did seem to work was aggression. However, now there were no actual threats. They were perceived threats. I felt like I could trust no one. I was drowning in shame and regret. And I was literally dying.
The therapist that I would work with at that facility was absolute fire. She sat with me and truly made a place that was emotionally very safe for me. She provided boundaries that were firm but compassionate. She didn’t show fear about the anger that I was exhibiting. And unbelievably, I was furious that she cared. Because in my mind, everyone has a dark side even those who say their “safe.” And this spicy lady knew her stuff. After my experiences, I saw where the power difference was threatening. I was scared to be vulnerable, yet again, knowing that I could get hurt.
That woman is someone I still call my “coach.” We have been working together for almost 9 years, and because I eventually stepped out into vulnerability and realized that she was truly a “safe” person that she claimed, I started wanting to change the person that I had become. I needed to know the love and compassion in a way that only a stranger can exhibit. And I needed to know that the difficult road ahead would not be one that I would walk alone. I needed to know that when things got bad, she wouldn’t leave me standing with the pieces of my shattered soul in disbelief that it could and would happen again. And she’s been my “ride or die” ever since.
The process has been going on for almost a decade of trying to break the cycle of abuse. It has been more difficult than I care to admit. Along the way, many times the only thing I was able to do in a day was breathe. She stepped up when others said, “Hell No,” to helping me. And despite so many times that I have tried to push her away, she has stayed right there witnessing the miracle happening.
Our families of origin often have problems with healthy functionality. Instead of addressing issues within the system, they say, “Oh we’ll just let it all die down and eventually the issue will go away.” But it doesn’t. In my experience of helping addicts who usually also have mental health issues, the families are often times sicker than the “problem child.” There have been generations of a one-way type of thinking that families think and assert their beliefs that it should continue simply because it’s familial. However, when you look closer the “cycle breaker” , they are sometimes seen as a troublemaker because they step out from the familial shadows and say, “Enough is enough. I will no longer buy into that way of thinking. I will no longer allow unhealthy behaviors to be swept under the rug and conform like I’m expected to do.”
I have had members in my family that have looked at me crazy and run me in the ground for speaking my truth the minute I walk away. And there are some who won’t even acknowledge my existence. These issues never get resolved and are the perfect breeding ground for anger and resentment. And it has continued to fester in my family. Whenever you become vulnerable and stand in your truth, there will be those who inevitably do not like it. Because challenging unhealthy behaviors isn’t easy. It requires a level of vulnerability and self-awareness that most individuals and families want but aren’t willing to do the work to achieve it.
For me, breaking the cycle of dysfunctional thinking and living has been paramount to my survival. I realized that I had to be willing to look at some difficult areas of my life. And to understand many of their origins. I have cried more tears than I can count in doing this work. My relationship with Mel was severely damaged because I wasn’t able to undo the destruction that I had caused. No matter how much I didn’t understand it. No matter how much I didn’t want it to happen. It still did.
I came back from that treatment facility, and I told her, “She’s the one.” And about a year later, I told Mel, “If I don’t move to Texas and do this work, I won’t be alive much longer.” So, as difficult as it was to leave her, I left for Texas. I’ve never regretted my decision. I am living because I got “sick and tired of being sick and tired.” And now when I see red flags about chaos, I do my best to avoid it. However, I will not be pushed around emotionally. I will not have my reality questioned because others are not self-aware enough to realize their own dysfunctional behaviors. That, my friends, is all the confirmation that I need to know that, YES, I am a “cycle breaker.” I might not can change everything. But I can change me. I have the power to break the cycle, and I am doing it. It is becoming my greatest legacy for myself, my children and a little corner of humanity.
“It’s up to us to break generational curses when they say, “it runs in the family” you tell them, “this is where it runs out!”
“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.
“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.”
“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.
This Puzzled Life 