I am the light you tried to strangle, the light you tried to stifle in your chokehold.
But my light bled all over the pages of your book, your preconceived narratives, your filthy words and your attempts to bring terror back into the blank space of my eyes.
Who am I?
I’ll tell you who I am.
I birthed revolution in my bones like the many women that came before me.
I ignited flames beneath my skin, using the fiery spirits of women who walked beside me
as matches; we breathed fire into each other’s hearts until the world could see us and from the ashes we were reborn.
Who am I?
I’ll tell you who I am.
I am the fear in your hatred, the pain that you tried to use to violate my sacred spaces, rip me apart until I was nothing,
but I knew I would always be something, somebody, and now I am.
I am layers and layers of the love and power that act as your kryptonite,
and with the words and actions of all those who rose with me, I’ll build an impenetrable wall.
Who am I?
I am the thing that nightmarish people have nightmares about,
wake up sweating about, thinking about —
their furrowed brows tense with self-doubt —
wondering if I and the other warriors I march with could ever come back to life.
Who am I?
I am the restless rebel you tried to bury,
the one you tried to pull out by the root and eradicate when she began to grow from the seed.
Who am I?
I’ll tell you who I am.
I am the girl you left for dead thinking she’d always fall and never rise again.
I am the girl you cut with your razor blade wrath, the girl you thought would never fight back.
I am the girl you underestimated, the woman you tormented, the child whose shackles you tightened.
Who am I?
I think you already know –
I think you understand.
I am the prisoner you tried to cage, the little girl you made afraid –
I am the woman who never gave up, the one who exposed your charade —
Who am I?
I am everything and anything that you will stand againstto try to regain control.
For every source of darkness, there is a bleeding soul,
one that shines so brightly that the entire war zone becomes illuminated.
I am the truth, your karma, the revolt —
I am the resistance, the pieces you tried to keep shattered, coming back together again.
I emerge quietly, but I resound loudly —reverberate through your skin.
My power was never yours, and it was never yours to take.
“Leaving is so hard because your confidence is destroyed. You feel trapped.”
-Unknown
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk to you about some common misconceptions about domestic violence. Sit tight. These myths and truths will help to dispel some of the things that you might have been told.
1. Myth: Domestic abuse is a “family matter” and the community should not interfere.
Fact: Domestic abuse is against the law making it everyone’s business.
2. Myth: Domestic abuse affects only a small percentage of the population.
Fact: One-third of American women report being physically or sexually abused by a partner.
3. Myth: Only men abuse women.
Fact: Statistics show that 85% of domestic abuse victims are women and 95% of perpetrators are men. However, men are abused by women also. And the rate of Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender communities are at the same rate as heterosexual relationships.
4. Myth: Only low-income families and minorities experience domestic abuse.
Fact: Domestic abuse in every area of society. Most previously recorded statistics are skewed due to the numbers coming from public agencies, city hospitals, police departments, social service agencies, and the courts.
5. Myth: Abusers are violent in all their relationships.
Fact: Most abusers are only abusive to a targeted intimate partner. Some abusers are successful in their professions and are very charming. And this is how they maintain power and control. This was how my ex-husband introduced himself. In front of people, he appealed to many. It was once we were not in front of people that the abuse occurred.
6. Myth: Domestic abuse is caused by mental illness.
Fact: Personality disorders, mental illness, poor impulse control, and generational abuse do not cause domestic abuse. Even in cases where a particular mental illness may cause a person to be abusive, the abuse is not specifically targeted at one person but to everyone around during the episode.
7. Myth: Domestic abuse is caused by drugs and alcohol use.
Fact: Where drugs and alcohol are often associated with domestic abuse, they do not cause the violence. My ex-husband never used drugs and alcohol. He was just mean and very controlling.
8. Myth: Abusers are violent because they cannot control their anger and frustration.
Fact: Abusers use anger as an excuse to rationalize or blame their abusive behavior: anger is not a cause of abuse; it is a conscious choice made by them. I was always told that “I was the cause of his anger.” So, in some way, I was made responsible for his behavior. When in actuality, he is responsible for his own behavior.
9. Myth: Therapy will stop the violence. If he/she goes to therapy, it will be safe at home.
Fact: Referral of a batter to is one of the strongest predictors that a victim will return to violence. However, research on the effectiveness of treatment for batters are inconclusive. What is known is that there’s a 50% drop out rate in these programs by those who do enroll.
10. Myth: Boys in violent homes will grow up to be battered and girls will be victims.
Fact: Not all children who grow up in homes where there is domestic abuse are directly abused or grow up to become victims or abusers. It is important to note that children from homes where domestic violence abuse occurs are at greater risk for all of these outcomes than children from homes where there is no violence.
11. Myth: Even if he/she is violent, it is better for the children to have both parents. Children aren’t negatively affected by domestic abuse unless they are actually abused.
Fact: Witnessing violence as a child is associated with adult reports of depression, trauma-related symptoms and low self-esteem among women, and trauma-related symptoms among men. Child witnesses of domestic abuse on average exhibit more aggressive and antisocial behaviors, fearful and inhibited behaviors, anxiety, depression, trauma symptoms, temperament problems, and lower social competence, than children who do not witness such violence. Youth who witness domestic abuse are more likely to attempt suicide, abuse drugs, and alcohol, run away from home, commit other delinquent behavior, engage in teenage prostitution, and commit sexual assault crimes (https://law.arizona.edu/sites/default/files/myths_and_realities_of_domestic_abuse.pdf, 2003).
I hope that you’ve been able to put some of these myths to rest. From someone who has gone through domestic violence, my perpetrator never though that he was doing anything wrong. And when I presented the need for therapy I was told, “I don’t need to go to therapy because you are the problem.” When the actual problem was that he didn’t want to look at the reality of his own actions and behaviors. And he continues to be that way. Keep reading and stay safe!
Affirmation: I forgive myself for believing I have to stay in the relationship until the person changes.
“I had gotten to the point where I was suicidal every day for six straight years…On that day, I made a choice. The choice to live, the choice to get better for me.”
-Justin
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away. Today, I want to tell you about a couple more suicide awareness and prevention groups. I wish I could cover them all. Unfortunately, there are just way too many. Please familiarize yourself and those you love and are affected.
Stop Soldier Suicide
This is the only national nonprofit focused on solving the issue of suicide among U.S. veterans and service members. They have an aggressive goal of reducing the suicide rate by 40% by 2030. Veterans are at a 58% higher risk of suicide than those who haven’t served.
Other statistics about veteran suicide:
· 6,407 veteran suicides in 2022.
· 22 consecutive years with 6000+ veteran suicides.
· 140K+ veterans have died by suicide since 2001.
· Second leading cause of death in veterans under age 45.
· The rate of veteran firearm suicide has increased by 65%.
· The suicide rate among veterans ages 18-34 has more than doubled.
· Western states have experienced the greatest increase in veteran suicide rate, increasing by 55%.
· 31% Depending on branch, up to 31% of service members develop PTSD after returning from combat.
· 7x the rated of suicide for veterans in the LGBTQ+ community is up 7x higher that for non-LGBTQ+ veterans.
The organization’s impact on veteran suicide.
· 90%+ of our most at-risk clients completed a crisis response plan in 2023, giving them tools and resources to cope in moments of crisis.
· 73% of clients experienced a decrease in thoughts of suicide over the course of treatment.
· 92% of clients who were meaningfully engaged in our care showed some improvement in mental wellbeing by the end of treatment (www.stopsoldiersuicide.org, 2025).
The Trevor Project
The Trevor Project was founded in August 1998 by the creators, James Lecesne, Peggy Rajski, and Randy Stone, of the Academy Award-winning short film “Trevor.” The film was about a gay teen who attempted suicide. The filmmakers then established a crisis hotline for LGBTQ+ youth after realizing that there was not a resource available. They have since expanded services to include text and chat support and resources for parents, schools and others seeking support for LGBTQ+ support (https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov, 2025).
Crisis Services: Providing counseling support services for LGBTQ+ young people 24/7 all year around.
Peer Support: Providing an affirming international community for LGBTQ+ youth.
Advocacy: Working to change hearts, minds, and laws in support of LGBTQ+ lives.
Research: We conduct research studies to equip policymakers and other LGBTQ+ youth providing professionals.
The Mission
To end suicide among LGBTQ+ youth by providing crisis support, suicide prevention resources, and educational programs (www.thetrevorproject.org, 2025).
Thanks again for reading. The more education and resources we can provide each other with, the better the outcomes for us all. Please pass this information along to anyone who could benefit. I am one of those who suicide has affected my life in epic proportions. I am also one who continues to fight for understanding and compassion in a world that is lacking.
Affirmation: I am not alone, and others care about me.
“Grit your teeth and let it hurt. Don’t deny it. Don’t be overwhelmed by it. It will not last forever.”
-Harold Kushner
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Keeping in line with suicide awareness, I thought I would talk about a couple of groups that reflect awareness and prevention. There are so many groups out there that stay along these same lines. And I wish that I could spotlight them all.
To Write Love On Her Arms
This group is a nonprofit group dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury, and suicide. Jamie Tworkowski set out only to help a friend and to tell her story. When he met Renee Yohe, she was struggling with addiction, self-injury, and suicidal thoughts. He wrote about spending five days with her prior to her entering a treatment facility. And he began selling t-shirts to help fund her treatment by posting them on Myspace. Soon people from all over the world began contacting him and telling him about their struggles and heartbreaks. And in 2007, TWLOHA became an official organization.
Here are some numbers associated with their organization:
· 210,000 messages from individuals in over 100 countries.
· 3.8 million miles have been traveled to meet people in their communities.
It is an online community that began in 2013, when Amy Bleuel created it to honor her father, who died by suicide. The organization centers around mental health awareness and suicide prevention. The World Health Organization (WHO) reports a 25% increase in anxiety and depression during the first year of COVID-19. That combined with the nation’s political instability characterized by protectionism and unilateralism has led to strained international relations. And the stress funnels down to our families and personal stories.
The semicolon represents a continuance of life where a period could have easily ended the story. There have currently been over 89,000 assessments completed. 5,336 journal entries shared. And have provided direct support to 214 individuals. Semicolon badges in Apex Legends and Call of Duty has reached over 1.3 million gamers and additionally 50 new chapters. And 84% of Project Semicolon members report that the organization has saved with lives in times of crisis (www.projectsemicolon.com, 2025).
Mission Statement
Our mission is to empower individuals with mental health experiences to embrace their journey and recognize that their story is far from over.
I hope that you can take something from this information. Please take what you can use and leave the rest. And please pass along the information to someone who can benefit. Even if that someone is you. Keep smiling! And do not be afraid to reach out for help.
Affirmation: There are other ways to end my pain, even if I cannot see them right now.
“Our country is grappling with a youth mental health crisis, and it is particularly pronounced for LGBTQ+ youth.”
-Ronita Nath
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away. Today, keeping in line with the topic of suicide, I want to discuss suicide in the LGBTQ+ community.
The prevalence of suicide in the LGBTQ+ community is nothing new. The risk for suicide attempts and suicidal ideation can be 3 to 6 times greater for lesbian, gay and bisexual adults according to the National Institutes of Health. But there are also other statistics to keep in mind.
In 2024, 39% of LGBTQ+ youth considered attempting suicide according to The Trevor Project’s national survey. 1 in 10 of LGBTQ+ youth attempted suicide in the past year. And LGBTQ+ youth are more than four times likely to attempt compared to heterosexual youth. I can tell you that personally, I’ve been suicidal many times because of rejection from my family as a lesbian woman.
Transgender and Nonbinary identified individuals are at an even higher rate of suicide. And almost half seriously considered suicide in the past year. In 2022, 80% of transgender people had considered suicide and 40% had attempted. These statistics while staggering are not surprising. These demographic struggles are way more than they should be with little compassion from society.
Bisexual identified individuals are 1.5 times more likely to report thoughts and attempts compared to gay and lesbian individuals. And 2.98 times more likely to have a suicide-related event compared to heterosexuals according to a 2022 study. And the LGBTQ+ youth of color report higher rates of suicidal ideation and attempts compared to white peers (www.therevorproject.org, 2025). And there are several contributing factors such as:
· Discrimination and Prejudice:discrimination, harassment and violence due to sexual orientation or gender identity increases the risk of suicide.
· Lack of Support Systems: Limited social support from family, peers and community exacerbates the mental health challenges.
· Mental Health Disparities: LGBTQ+ individuals are more likely to experience depression and may face barriers to accessing mental health services (https://mhanational.org, 2025).
For someone who is a member of the LGBTQ+ community, I can tell you that I’ve considered suicide many times. The rejection from family and friends are sometimes more than I can bare. And having worked with someone in therapy many years ago, who was not sensitive to the needs of someone in these communities, there was little progress made. Mainly, because I couldn’t trust her. And she was extremely judgmental.
Since collaborating with coach for almost a decade, I can tell you that I have been able to fully accept the fact that I’m gay, despite my family’s disapproval. And then the religious communities also seem to greet us with bible verses telling how many ways we are going to hell. We all know that “choosing” to be gay is such an easier way of life. There the secret is out.
With the current political administration taking away the rights and freedoms that the Stonewall riots stood against, and the lack of funding for suicide hotlines for LGBTQ+ youth, these rates will only climb. Our families, friends, churches, and government should be ashamed of standing by people who are ok with the policies set in place. We are the same as we ever were. We just wear rainbows now.
There are those beautiful allies out there who remain the strength and backbone of our continual fight for equality. We are youth, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, husband, and wives who just want to be recognized as equals in the eyes of the law. But where reputations and political agendas are from the far right, we must be even more solidified as a community. If someone is for rights with some and not others, I have no room for them in my life. But it’s taken me years to come to this conclusion.
Is it lonely? At times, yes. However, I want people in my life who not only support me but also my friends. The suicide hotline is something that our community not only wants but needs. Many of us have non-supporting families and mine is no different. But I do have a place to live currently. But that does not constitute me putting up with homophobia or fragile masculinity and femininity.
The very few “true” friends I have, understand that being gay is not a “choice.” It’s who I am. And if that’s too much for someone to manage, that’s just too damn bad. To my fellow allies and community members, keep up the good fight. We must take up the original Pride flag are carry on. I love our colors. And I’m proud to call myself a member of the LGBTQ+ community.
Keep smiling. Keep shining. Knowing you can always count on me, for sure. That’s what friends are for. We are seen. And we are heard. And….WE ARE FABULOUS! Thanks for reading. Take what you can use and leave the rest.
Affirmation: I am proud of myself and will continue to strive to do well.
“Real heroes don’t wear capes. Real superheroes wear uniforms and badges and stethoscopes! Real superheroes are members of our military, law enforcement, and first responders. Pretend superheroes wear capes.”
-Dean Cain
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negativity energy, go away. Today, I want to talk about first responder suicide. This is another group that seems to be looked over when discussing this topic. Having worked in the EMS field, I can tell you that sometimes I saw things that continue to haunt me to this day.
Individuals, who have also worked in the field, have told me, “they just left work at work.” And it was simple. In that case, “Congrats! You are the winner! And you were much stronger mentally, I guess.” But in my situation, I was trapped in a domestic violence situation where emotional abuse was normal. So, working myself to death while experiencing trauma in both my private and professional life, my mind was so overloaded that I developed PTSD from both situations.
Maybe it was the 7-year-old who was hit by a drunk driver and left for dead. Maybe it was the car wreck where sister and boyfriend we both killed. And older sister’s face was ripped off in the wreck. Maybe it was the murder that left a body with half a head from a shotgun blast. Maybe it was the screaming mother, who I had to tell that her child was dead. Maybe it was the mother on Mother’s Day that was told that her law enforcement son was killed in a drunk driving accident. Maybe it was the woman who was ejected from a vehicle after falling asleep behind the wheel, whose legs were pinned behind her head. Maybe it was the suicide scenes. Maybe it was putting a child in a body bag in front of a mother. Maybe it was the person hit by a train where chunks of meat were the only thing that remained. Maybe it was the disabled individual in a wheelchair who was raped by her cousin. Maybe it was the woman who was cut from ear to ear, because she was cheating on her boyfriend with a white man. Maybe it was working hard on a grandmother, in front of the family, begging for us to save her when we couldn’t. Maybe it was the male body that was found in a house that had been dead for several days. And the only way the neighbors knew something was wrong was because they smelled him through the walls. Maybe it was the little girl who innocently climbed up in her daddy’s pickup truck only to find a loaded gun and accidentally pulled the trigger leaving one of the bullets lodged in her brain. Maybe it was the little boy who was handed to a good Samaritan from inside his father’s eighteen-wheeler, only for the truck to explode because the jaws of life were not available. Maybe it was the car wreck where I had to sit in the dead passenger’s lap to work on the dying driver. Maybe it was the mother who died from a seizure and her little girl was left in the home alone for over 8 hours before the body was found. Maybe it’s the smells of decaying bodies that I continue to smell almost 30 years later. Maybe it was telling my boss that I was having flashbacks from a gruesome scene only to be told, “If you can’t handle it, pick a different profession. Maybe it’s the incessant scenes that I continue to replay beyond my control with questions about if we did enough. Maybe, Maybe, Maybe.
In the time that I worked, I saw enough trauma to last me a lifetime. There was no one to talk to about anything. Like I was told that there would be. Getting shifts covered was more important than the safety and well-being of employees. And somehow, sexual harassment and a near rape by a co-worker was viewed as though I brought it on myself. And eventually, trying to survive by living in my car and attempting to distance myself from the domestic violence situation led me to a level of depression and despair that was somehow new to me. I was forced to keep unethical secrets which was “normalized behavior.”
A lot of people that I worked with were dealing with problems through narcotic diversion, sex with random partners, alcohol and drugs were seen as “off-day or working” coping skills. And the level of compassion for another human being “hitting the skids” to a level that was disturbing. There was not just one reason that I was having suicidal thoughts. But I had nowhere to turn for help that was “safe.” And the work environment was just as toxic.
Life said, “Here are the pieces. Figure it out.” And I tried to bury them so far down that I never wanted to revisit those fears and feelings again. For a long while, I was able to do just that. But when you have unresolved trauma there’s only one thing that you can be sure of, it will surface again. And almost 20 years later it would come forth vigorously. And it almost killed me.
First responders include police officers, firefighters, paramedics, EMTs, and telecommunicators. Due to the unique occupational stressors, the risk for mental health issues and suicide are at a much higher rates of depression, PTSD, suicidal ideations, and behaviors (www.cdc.gov, 2021). And due to consistent exposure to traumatic events can impact the brain’s ability to process the experiences.
The Impact on Mental Health:
· PTSD, depression, and anxiety: first responders are at a significantly higher risk of developing these.
· Cognitive Issues: Trauma can lead to difficulties with memory, attention, planning, problem solving, which can affect daily functioning and relationships.
· Secondary Traumatic Stress (STS) and Vicarious Trauma (VT): first responders can experience emotional and/or psychological distress from observing or hearing about the trauma of others. And can lead to the symptoms of emotional numbness, irritability, sleep disturbances, and physical complaints.
· Burnout and Compassion Fatigue: Demanding nature of the job and frequent exposure to suffering can lead to emotional exhaustion and reduce capacity for empathy (https//extension.usu.edu, 2025).
It has been said too many times, “Well you chose the profession.” And to that I respond, “Yes, I did. Who else would’ve done it? You?!” And then, of course, the sound of crickets followed. To this day I can say that I loved working in the field of EMS. But my brain took a beating. The trauma of the event doesn’t happen at that exact moment. It creeps. And if you are running back-to-back traumatic calls, then the brain never has a chance to recover. Also, when therapeutic help is seen as shameful or weak, this further ostracizes the employee to thinking that there is no way out. There are those “trauma junkies” as they are called that seem to enjoy the trauma. However, from working with those types of individuals, I have found that there is also a higher rate of alcohol and drug use.
Reducing the stigma will only happen when senior management are supportive of mental health efforts to keep all employees safe. And in the environment where I worked, the stigma couldn’t have been any stronger. People were allowed to work an extreme amount hours without sleep, which was very dangerous. In fact, an EMT who was in paramedic school, was allowed to work without adequate sleep and he wrecked an ambulance with a patient on board, because he fell asleep at the wheel striking a telephone pole. And sadly, there are currently no federal laws that regulate this. This problem is still left up to the digression of private companies.
A national organization known as the National Association of Emergency Medical Technicians have issued guidelines for managing fatigue in EMS personnel. This sets guidelines such as limiting shifts to less than 24 hours in duration and providing access to caffeine to help counteract fatigue. And offering naps. However, I can tell you that the only “nap” I was offered was during the time it took for a red light to change to green. And there is a recognized concern about EMS worker fatigue for both workers and the public. Research also shows that more than half of EMS workers report severe mental and physical fatigue, poor sleep quality, and inadequate recovery between shifts (www.ems.gov, 2019).
I can only hope that those entities that have an ambulance or some other type of EMS service abides by this. However, I can almost guarantee that senior administrators are more concerned with the dollar amount that is acquired at the end of the month. Because the low pay rate of EMS workers makes the individual “a dime a dozen.” And they will just be replaced if they can’t handle the stress. And this attitude combined with the difficult nature of the job is why I would still consider this working environment dangerous for the worker, as well as patients.
If you are or know someone in this profession, it is imperative that you and they both know the importance of “healthy” self-care. Asking for help is not a weakness. It’s the personal responsibility of the employee and the companies that employ them. Please make use of services that are provided. Thanks for reading! Stay safe.
“The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war.”
-Douglas McArthur
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negativity energy, go away. Today, I want to discuss veteran suicide. I know that this topic has seemed to get old and fast. However, I believe that the more we talk about the harshness of life, the more the stigmas will begin to disappear.
In 2022, the most recent year for the current data, 6,407 veterans and 41,484 nonveteran adults died by suicide. The rate among veterans was 34.7 per 100,000 compared to 17.1 per 100,000 for nonveterans. Since 2005, veteran suicide has risen faster than any other group. And these rates are unacceptable.
The veterans who died by suicide in that year, 40% were under the care of the Veterans Health Administration. Among those patients, who were also diagnosed with a mental health disorder or substance abuse disorder, there were 56.4 per 100,000, which was twice the rate of those without a diagnosis. And among 1,548 veterans who died by suicide 64% were diagnosed with depression, 43% had an anxiety disorder, 40% had PTSD, and 32% had an alcohol use disorder. However, the highest suicide rates were associated with veterans who had sedative use disorder which include benzodiazepines, barbiturates, and opiates (www.rand.org, 2025). And the stigma about mental health in the military further increase this problem.
Aspects of Veteran Mental Health stigma:
· Fear of judgment and perception: Veterans worry about how seeking help will affect all areas of their lives and especially on career repercussions.
· Military culture: The “warrior ethos” which emphasizes self-reliance and stoicism create barriers to seeking help.
· Loss of security clearance: Some fear that seeking mental health treatment will lead to revocation of security clearances.
· Impact on treatment: stigmas can lead to untreated mental health conditions, substance abuse and increased risk of suicide.
· Self-stigma: Veterans may internalize negative societal views about mental health which can lead to shame, self-blame, and more reluctance to seek help (https://oxfordtreatment.com, 2025).
As an advocate for medical cannabis, I believe that our veterans should be given an ounce of cannabis the minute their feet hit US soil upon returning from active duty. As I personally deal with PTSD, there is not another medication on the planet that can bring me relief like cannabis can. And it’s such a safer alternative to alcohol, opiates, and benzodiazepine medications.
Currently, the Safe Healing Act, which was introduced on February 4, 2025, is designed to prohibit the Secretary of Veterans Affairs from denying a veteran benefit administered by the Secretary by reason of the veteran participating in a State-approved marijuana program and other purposes. But unfortunately, there is only a 3% chance of being enacted (www.govtrack.us, 2025). And I consider this utterly ridiculous. There is an unmistakable problem with veteran suicide. It appears Big Pharma is still in the way of progress. I wonder how many people who oppose this bill must suffer, daily, with the horrible effects of PTSD, anxiety, and chronic pain that “Big Pharma” can’t seem to help?
Our returning soldiers are faced with horrors that no one understands until they’ve been there. And though I have never served our country, I can tell you that the above-mentioned mental health disorders have also almost taken my life many times. The symptoms are horrific in nature. Put chronic pain in the mix and suicide often seems like the only answer to have a break, though it be permanent, for even a moment of peace.
Veterans, in my eyes, should be held to the utmost respect. They should be the highest paid employees before professional athletes. And we as a country should make sure that the best treatment is available to them for the rest of their lives. Some have paid the price of their lives on the battlefield. And a high percentage of others pay with their lives when they return home. But instead of treating them like the heroes like they are, they are often discarded by the government that they so proudly serve.
Is cannabis the only answer? Not at all. However, while they find the modality that works for them, I think that cannabis could lighten the load and make their futures seem a little brighter. Discarding them along with all the judgmental stigmas only adds to the problem. And until this is rectified, we will continue to lose those beautiful people who are willing, at any moment, to lay down their lives for our freedoms. Shame on the United States of America for treating them like that!
I know reading this is not easy. But we as a nation must stand up for these individuals who continue to pay the price every time, they open their eyes. Let’s get past the “reefer madness” ignorance and allow our veterans the opportunity to extend their lives at home. A special thanks and salute to one of my favorite veterans who I’ll call Joe. Thanks for reading! And God Bless America!
“Be careful because cyberspace is a two way street those that hunt and stalk and troll can also become the hunted by those that they harass and attack. Cyberspace has a definite dark side.”
Don Holbrook
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away. Today, I want to talk about another reason that people are committing suicide. It’s the inevitable factor of cyberbullying.
Cyberbullying is bullying with the use of digital technologies. Research consistently indicates that there is a strong correlation between being a victim of cyberbullying and increased suicidal ideations. In fact, once study showed that students who are subjected to cyberbullying are 4 times as likely to commit suicide. And a major increase occurred during the COVID-19 pandemic). Another study found that cyber bullying increases suicidal thoughts by 14.5% and suicide attempts by 8.7%. The limitations are since there is usually not just one factor that contribute to suicide (www.nih.gov, 2025).
I can tell you that as an 8th grader adult bullied me where I was supposed to be safe, at school. And though there was no cyberbullying at the time, due to lack of access to the internet, I quickly began having suicidal ideations that have plagued me ever since. When you’re a child, bullying is such a violation and betrayal. And for me there was no way out. So, I had to fight the best way I knew how. Sometimes it was quiet while escaping within my mind. And sometimes, it was through pure aggression. Sadly, aggression was the only thing to make it all stop even for a moment. But the colossal damage had already been done.
That year of bullying set the precedence for how my life would turn out. I lost all confidence in myself and my abilities. My self-worth was destroyed. And I turned to the only thing that seemed to accept me no matter what my condition. It was addiction. By the time I started high school, I was a full-blown addict of drugs, alcohol, self-harm and eating disorders. And at almost 50 years old, I continue to struggle with them.
I learned that no one was a “safe” person. I learned that if anyone were going to protect me, it would have to be me. I learned that taking the first shot at someone was the safest way to live. I also concluded that no one that I saw as an “underdog” would ever have to fight their own battle again if I were there. I asked for help but was denied. And when I did, the abuse only got worse.
Cyberbullying takes on a whole new level of abuse. And the damage can be irreparable. It’s said and done by people who don’t have to look at you in the face. And typically, most people wouldn’t have the balls to say those same things if done in person. Since our national politics are so unstable, I would venture to say that the amount of cyberbullying would increase significantly. Below are a couple of the cases that I wanted to show you about. There is no way to list them all.
Megan Meier’s Case (2006): a 13-year-old American girl who committed suicide after being bullied on MySpace. The bullying was orchestrated by an adult neighbor, Lori Drew, posing as a teenage boy. The adult was the mother of a classmate. The mother was found guilty of cyberbullying in 2009. However, the conviction was later overturned.
Texas Child Suicide (2023): A child in Texas died by suicide during an online game due to alleged cyberbullying. The suspect lived in Michigan who eventually plead guilty to crimes related to aiding suicide and harassment causing death (www.nbcnews.com, 2023).
In the world that we live in, it is imperative for us parents to pay close attention as possible to what our kids are doing and with whom they are interacting. I do not live under the delusion that it is possible to know everything. I am not God. The only thing I know to do is to regularly talk to my children about the dangers of cyberbullying. And that just because someone is on your “friends list,” doesn’t mean that they are really friends. And that predators disguised as heaven will often put you through hell. And even with that knowledge, I know that I can’t protect every facet of their lives. The very essence of a predator is to go undetected. And to operate in the shadows, often in plain sight.
I hope that you have gained useful information on this topic. I continue to learn each time I blog. And maybe, it’s bringing some type of comfort as I look at these difficult topics. I write thinking, “What can I do to help other parents?” And then, BOOM! Another blog appears. Thanks for reading! As always, take what you can use and leave the rest. Keep smiling. And stay informed.
Affirmation: I forgive myself for believing when I’m bullied it’s my fault because I let it happen, or I was in the wrong place, or I should have known better.
“When you feel like giving up, just remember why you held on for so long.”
-Hayley Williams
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk about some myths regarding the topic of suicide. I was first exposed to suicide at the age of thirteen. One of my friends and classmate committed suicide when we were in the eighth grade. As a child, how do you manage that? I can tell you that among all of the major events in my life that has changed me in some way, the day that I lost my friend to suicide will always rank high on my list. I think, though, that the biggest impact for me was how our teachers and school administrators dealt with the situation.
I grew up in the 1980’s when child and adolescent mental health was rarely recognized. And, honestly, my generation was sort of left with the attitude of “figure it out yourself.” Situations that left gaping wounds were merely glossed over. And so, me and other friends and classmates turned to a life of addiction and suicide. As a teen who was being abused daily by a teacher, and the complete lack of protection from the adults, I was forced to just “figure it out.” I did it in total “self-preservation mode.” The behaviors that I developed were not healthy, but they were there when no one else was.
In the 35 years since my friend’s suicide, I have lost a lot more friends. And sadly, I have built walls all throughout my life that continue to help me through my pain. The one thing that has seemed to resonate through the years is how religion constantly attacks those who have been through the most. And I grew up being marinated in the ideology that suicide was “selfish,” “a sin,” “immediate condemnation to hell,” “the easy way out” and the most “self-centered” act known to man.
A lot of the “indoctrinating messages” I was raised to believe, life made me realize how very untrue and damaging they are and will continue to be. I have been on all sides of suicide. And from a personal standpoint, those beliefs couldn’t be any farther from the truth. Below are a few common myths regarding suicide.
Myth 1: Talking about suicide increases the chance a person will act on it.
Fact: Talking about suicide can reduce rather than increase suicidal ideations. It improves mental health related outcomes and increases the likelihood that someone will seek treatment.
Myth 2: People who talk about suicide are just seeking attention.
Fact: People that die from suicide have often told someone about not wanting to live anymore. And it’s always important to take it seriously. In my own family, these statements have rung true. Or most often, those statements are ignored.
Myth 3: Suicide can’t be prevented.
Fact: Suicide is preventable but unpredictable. Most people have experienced intense emotional pain, hopelessness and a negative view on life and the future. Suicide is a product of genes, mental illnesses and environmental risk factors. Intervention can and does save lives.
Myth 4: People who take their own lives are selfish, cowardly or weak.
Fact: People don’t die of suicide by choice. The emotional pain that they experience makes it difficult to consider different views. Have you ever turned a gun on yourself? I have.
Myth 5: Teenagers and college students are the most at risk of suicide.
Fact: Suicide rates for that age group is below the national average. The age groups with the highest rate of suicide in the U.S. are women 45-64 and men 75 and older. Suicide is a problem among all ages and groups.
Myth 6: Barriers on bridges, safe firearm storage and other actions that reduce access to lethal methods of suicide don’t work.
Fact: Limiting access to lethal means of harm is one of the most straightforward strategies to decrease the chances of suicide.
Myth 7: Suicide always occurs without warning.
Fact: There are almost always warning signs before a suicide attempt.
Myth 8: Talk therapy and medications don’t work.
Fact: Treatment can and does work. I don’t agree with big pharma for many reasons. I guess, though, “life over limb.” Lives are saved with both therapy and medication. Therapy has saved my life for many years now. But finding the right one to work with can be taxing. Most people who are in the helping profession do help rather than harm (mayoclinichealthsystem.org, 2025).
Myth 9: You have to be mentally ill to think about suicide.
Fact: 1 in 5 people have thought about suicide at some time in their life. Not all people who die by suicide have mental illnesses at the time they die.
Myth 10: People who are suicidal want to die.
Fact: The majority of people feeling suicidal do not actually want to die; they just want the situation they’re in or the way they’re feeling to stop.
Myth 11: Most suicides happen in the winter months.
Fact: Suicide is complex and not just related to seasons or the climate. Suicide is more common in the spring and a noticeable peak on New Year’s Day.
Myth 12: You can’t ask someone if they’re suicidal.
Fact: Evidence shows that asking someone if they’re suicidal could protect them (Samaritans.org, 2025).
Myth 13: Strong faith prevents suicidal thoughts.
Fact: Many deeply religious figures including biblical figures have experienced suicidal thoughts. The misconception that strong faith eradicates mental despair is false. Faith doesn’t guarantee protection from difficult emotions and struggles.
Myth 14: Suicide indicates a lack or abandonment of faith.
Fact: Suicidal ideation is viewed from different perspectives. Suicide does not inherently mean that someone has abandoned their faith.
Myth 15: Fear of religious repercussions is a sufficient deterrent for suicide.
Fact: For some maybe the fear of divine punishment can be a factor. However, many faith communities emphasize grace and forgiveness, even for those who die by suicide. And personally, I have rarely seen grace and forgiveness on this topic.
Myth 16: Religion or faith alone is enough to prevent suicide.
Fact: Studies show inconsistent findings regarding the protective effect of religious affiliation on suicide risk. It is crucial to understand that faith alone is not a guarantee against suicide and should not replace professional mental health interventions when needed (https://pmc.ncbi.nim.nih.gov, 2025).
I hope at the very least that some of the myths regarding suicide have been explained. My own personal suicidal feelings have been dismissed the majority of my life. And no amount of “bible beating” has ever helped. It has only made things much worse than they already are. And some of the statements made disguised as “help” by family members, are not help. The statements are just toxic. Saying that you have “x” amount of years living and never considered suicide isn’t helpful. Please don’t play therapist when you’re not one.
Put harmful judgments in the trash where they belong. Love and appreciate those that you love. Because it can all change in an instant. Quit making “their” suicidal feelings about “you.” Because it’s not. And always remember, “Just because someone has a smile on their face doesn’t mean that they’re not suicidal.” Thanks for reading! As always, take what you can use and leave the rest.
Affirmation: I am overcoming depression one step at a time.
“This life. This night. Your story. Your hope. It matters. All of it matters.”
-Jamie Tworkowski
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Thank God, we have made it through most of the hottest months of the year. September is another sticky, humidity filled month before the beginning of the cool down. September is also Suicide Awareness and Prevention Month. I know, it’s another upbeat topic. I think that the topic of suicide shouldn’t be taboo. It’s an unfortunate dark part of nearly every culture. And, yes, it has also affected my life in many ways which I’ll share.
Suicide has always been referred to as “the easy way out,” “selfish action,” a “total disregard for friends and family,” and the most hurtful “a sin.” And it’s really easy for people to throw out opinions that help no one when they are struggling. That is minimizing their pain and abuse.
Having been not only a patient in the mental health system for the majority of my life, and working in the mental health field as a professional, I have also seen and been on most sides of this problem. People are so quick to judge what they don’t understand. And, sadly, suicide is a topic that tends to be discussed in judgment versus with compassion.
I have been chronically suicidal since I was a teenager. I was being abused and put on display for others to see for an entire year in school. I was also locked in a closet in that same room while being verbally abused in any way imaginable. I tried to tell adults about what was going on. However, I was made to feel like it was my fault. This helped the teacher to further perpetrate her abuse. My parents also made me apologize to her for comments that I made to her. But as their child, I was not protected by them or the administration. I was in a difficult situation without the possibility of brighter days ahead for the future.
My suicidal feelings got the best of me one day at school when I took forty aspirin. I had no idea, at that time, that it wouldn’t work. But the thought of continuing one more day at the hands and mouth of s purely evil woman was more than I could deal with. My parents were called and made aware. Nothing was ever done. I was never provided with any kind of help. Maybe it was the “standard” of the late 1980s. I was not given the emotional support to sort out my trauma.
What I did begin doing was self-harm. I had no idea what it all meant, at that time. But I knew that it made things better even if for just the moment. As I’ve stated about my family’s dysfunctional dynamics, I was told just to make it through the year and everything would be fine. It wasn’t. Yes, the abuse ended. But I was not fine.
By my freshman year in high school, I was “balls to the wall” in addiction. Addiction that presented itself in drugs, alcohol, eating disorders and self-harm. The strongest addiction being self-harm. And 35 years later, it continues.
The depression, anxiety and suicidal ideations never subsided as I was told. One day I finally told my mother that had I had access to a weapon, I was going to kill myself. Instead of offering help, of any kind, I was met with anger and told that I was being selfish. My thoughts were anything but selfish. I was hurting in ways that no one knew. And no one seemed to care. So, I suffered in silence for many years.
As a child/teenager when traumatic events occur, your mind goes directly to self-preservation. You do whatever you can to either tolerate the darkness or end the pain. Meanwhile, the trauma of life continued at a level that no one is capable of dealing with alone. My next real relationship was abuse that lasted 14 years. And again, I felt trapped.
If you don’t understand the concept of Pavlov’s dogs, then you don’t understand what it’s like to be held mentally captive while the world sees your situation with an easy out. And the sad part about it, is that they think that you deserve everything you get because you don’t just leave. My parents attributed all of the chaos of that relationship as being something that religion could fix. So, we got involved in church. If anything, the abuse got much worse because now his weapon was a Bible that he read and used as justification that I should be “submissive” to his every demands. Mentally, I was trapped again without any way out. And my self-harm was not about survival. It was about making the pain end.
I would reach a mental breaking point and would stand out in the front yard where we lived and pointed a gun at my chest and pulled the trigger. The strange part was that I seemed to be witnessing rather than taking an active role. I watched that whole event as a spectator. I don’t expect you to understand the power of dissociation. Most people, in fact, are very ignorant about it. Again, I was met with anger from my mother. She kept saying, “Hush! Hush! Do you want to go back to Pine Grove?” That is the local mental health facility. And at that moment all I needed was compassion. But again, I faced anger and judgment. I wasn’t trying to “take the easy way out” or be “selfish.” I just wanted the pain to end. And everyone seemed to lose sight of that reality but me.
The bullet went into my shoulder only a few inches from my heart. And even hospital staff treated me as though I was taking up space much better suited for someone else. Self-harm became a way of life for me. It’s been there when people should’ve been there. But self-harm doesn’t always mean “suicide attempt.” And this is a very sore subject among family members. But I sit as an outcast by my family who want nothing more than the family name to not be tainted by abnormality. They acknowledge that bad things happen. But they just want it to disappear and to quit bringing shame to the family name and instead just move on with life. But the biggest factor, is that they don’t want to be perceived as “parental failures.” It’s still all about the reputation of the family.
People that is not how trauma works. And saying, “We just didn’t know how to help you” is “shit”of an excuse. I was a child when it began. You were in the position to help protect your daughter and you didn’t. Remember, the part of the story where I said, “Just make it out of the 8th grade and everything will be better.” It’s 35 years later and it’s not better. It has crippled me as an adult. And has stolen my hopes and dreams. And I still deal with suicidal ideations on a daily basis. Those never went away either. So, I guess feeling like a “burden” to those who say that they love me but treat me as such will forever be the unhealthy narrative. I’ve asked them to do therapy to help with our relationship. But again, it’s of no importance. And the unspoken belief that I’m unworthy continues.
I wrote this blog to say this, “Quit making someone’s struggle with suicidal thoughts and actions be all about you. You are not helping anything. You only make it worse.” Simply say to them, “Your thoughts and beliefs are valid. Let’s find some compassionate help that will help you thrive. Throwing Bible verses in their face is not helpful. Telling them that they will go to hell is not helpful. They are already living in an emotional hell.
This is not rocket science! Just don’t be an asshole as a rule of thumb. I have been in the position of being the last one to talk to a person moments before they completed suicide. I can tell you this, “I’m not mad at that person. I don’t condemn their actions. I don’t say, “Well I guess they’re in hell now. How selfish of them.” I simply say, “I hate that they were in so much pain that nothing anyone said could break through the cloud of despair.”
Until you’ve been in that position, you have no idea how strong emotions and thoughts are. And if the person felt like they had exhausted all of their means of trying to end the pain in an acceptable fashion, then they see no other way out. Judgmental comments about, “well, they didn’t seek out every source of help” is you seeing in from your perspective only. If you can’t see it from their perspective, you’re one of the lucky ones. Thanks for reading! Take what you can use and leave the rest.
“The DEA is part of the army of good working people working against the evil of drugs. The cartels deal in death, but we fight for life. This is not about politics; it’s about survival. Together, as one nation, we will end this fentanyl crisis and protect our people.”
-Acting Administrator, Derek Maltz
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I’m going to discuss one of the leading killers in our nation, FENTANYL. The correct pronunciation is (Fen-ta-nil). Fentanyl is a very powerful synthetic opioid that is used in surgery as an anesthetic to control severe pain. However, over the past decade, the drug has made its way into the illicit drug supply by way of cartels who are supplied most of the time from China where fentanyl is manufactured. And the street value of a counterfeit pill of fentanyl ranges from $1 to $3 a pill. And this is why fentanyl is so affordable and appealing to anyone.
With the opioid crisis that began in the 1990s and the lack of alternative pain control, chronic pain sufferers were forced to go to the streets to handle it themselves. I also suffer from chronic pain. A few years ago when I was living in Texas, no matter how much I told my doctors about my increasing nerve pain that has spread all over my body, no one would help me. I began to think that maybe my medical issues weren’t legit. What I soon found out was that the fear of healthcare professionals of persecution because of doctors who went too far and had opened clinics called “pill mills.” These were clinics that resembled pain clinics that were prescribed without sufficient medical history. Patients in these types of facilities received only prescriptions as a cash only transaction.
“Overdose deaths involving primarilyfentanyl totaled 73,838 reported in 2022”
The result was an astronomical amount going to people for forming both a physical and mental addiction on these drugs. What it also caused was the people with legitimate pain issues who had no access to medications that made their pain tolerable. Chronic pain will lead you to a couple of different places for relief. The streets where pills are sold illicitly or suicide. It’s not always about wanting to be a criminal. And unfortunately, our nation didn’t have answers to help with those needs. I had used medical cannabis previously when I lived in Albuquerque, NM. Texas, however, was a big southern slow towards that goal.
I tried everything I could get my hands on to help manage my pain without success. So, I headed to the streets for relief. I went down into the area of south Dallas which was nothing but hoodrats and drug dealers. And I was only able to go into those areas because I was with someone else who was already well known in that area. I was a gay white female who people there thought was a cop. I might be a lot of things but a narc I am not. I’ll be honest, that area was scary as hell. But I felt that I had no other options. And so I started buying pills from a dealer.
“The latest DEA laboratory testing announced earlier this fall, indicates that 5 out of every 10 pills tested contain a potentially deadly dose of fentanyl. Two milligrams of fentanyl is considered a lethal dose. For perspective, one gram of fentanyl, equivalent in size to a sugar packet, has the potential to kill up to 500 people.” (DEA.gov, 2024).
At the time, pills were going for $1/mg. This means that a pharmaceutical pain pill that was 30mg went for $30. And because these pills were harder to come by means that the prices were constantly increasing. So, I might get pain relief for one night. The next day I was in horrible pain yet again. When you buy drugs off the street, you are forced to unfortunately buy what is available. And some of it is pretty difficult to come by. And each time you take the medication you are playing Russian roulette. And I didn’t care. I needed relief like I needed air.
I was only able to buy morphine 60mg tablets which equaled $60/day which was impossible to come by for me. Buying on the streets is always a crapshoot about being able to stay in contact with more than one dealer. It’s a game of who if anyone will come through for you. Desperation will lead you to doing irrational things. And it was worth it at the time. I consider myself incredible that I didn’t become a statistic to fentanyl. And I never became addicted to anything that I used there.
“Fentanyl is 100 times more potent than morphine.”
(DEA.gov, 2024)
Fentanyl is in everything now. If kids get some pills from a friend that bought them from a dealer and it has been cut with fentanyl, they’re dead. Narcan, which is a medication that helps to reverse the effects of an opiate, definitely helps to reverse overdose. But what if you took the pill right before you got into bed hoping for a nice, peaceful sleep pain free? No one is there and narcan then means nothing.
While growing up in the 80’s the drugs were still safe to experiment with. But now they’re not. Fentanyl is one of those drugs that has seemed to grab my attention about its hidden dangers. Some people are being intentionally poisoned due to fentanyl. And it scares the hell out of me for my kids.
I invite you to watch videos on YouTube about fentanyl awareness. One of my personal favorites is Texas Documentaries that has a new video every couple of days about how fentanyl has destroyed so many lives and their families. Have fun. Stay safe. And educate yourselves and those you love about the dangers of fentanyl.
“We’ve been at the forefront of this fight against synthetic opioids since the very beginning. We are committed to combating fentanyl, and the men and women of CBP are up to the task.”
-CBP Senior Official Performing the Duties of the Commissioner Troy Miller
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to talk about the beauty of living in a free nation. And it is one of the many days that I will always celebrate our freedoms. What our founding fathers laid the foundation for is something that will never be paid in dollars. It’s always paid with lives.
The Declaration of Independence from Great Britian rule was adopted by the Second Continental Congress. It passed on July 2nd and was formally adopted on July 4, 1776. The declaration proclaimed that the Thirteen Colonies were now “free and independent States.” Therefore, the colonies were no longer part of the British Empire. The most prominent individuals involved in this process were George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, James Madison, Alexander Hamilton and Ben Franklin (history.com, 2025). The Continental Congress eventually created the Articles of Confederation which led to the establishment of the United States as an independent nation (history.state.gov, 2025).
Our country has come a long way since the days of powdered wigs, breeches, a shirt, waistcoat and coats. And our freedoms continue to evolve as do our politics. We as an “America Nation,” which was considered a crime of treason that was punishable by death. Think about that for a minute.
At one time you could be killed for even speaking about just the idea of wanting a “free nation.” And if you think about it now, that’s exactly what is happening, not just now, but through history to other areas of the world who still live under dictatorship and other forms of government. Let me speak some of the historical names. How would you like to live your life in a nation with heads of government that have names like Adolph Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Benito Mussolini, Mao Zedong, Saddam Hussein, Idi Amin, Fransico Franco, Pol Pot, Fidel Castro, Kim Jong-I, Kim Il-sung, Agusto Pinochet, Vladimir Putin, Chiang Kai-shek, King Leopold II and Muammar Al-Gaddafi and more. Really comforting thoughts, huh. If you don’t recognize some of these names, I suggest looking at all of the atrocities that they committed.
We’ve had problems in our nation just like other countries in varying degrees. However, we don’t wake up in the middle of the nights with ISIS barging through the door killing us and our children in the most horrific of ways. Al-Qaeda doesn’t invite themselves to our dinner tables and kill us all in the name of Allah. When we go to the store we don’t have to worry about roadside bombs. We are free to worship in whatever way we choose. And we can talk about the idiots in our government without the threat of being murdered for not supporting them. We don’t have to witness beheadings of sometime innocent people who were accused of some of the most insignificant of crimes. And the only kind of “public stoning” that goes on is on 420.
I don’t agree with a lot of the politics and leaders in this country. But I do have the freedom to write and post my blogs on a public forum. As long as I don’t harm anyone or cause an insurrection on the capitol, then I’m pretty much okay to do whatever I want to do within reason. Since the Revolutionary War, 646, 596 troops have died in battle and more than 539,000 died from other non-combat related causes (military.com, 2025). And guess what? The majority of us send others to fight wars and battles, while we sit home in air conditioning houses with cell phones watching videos on social media of people and eating Tide pods. And currently I’m blogging with a cat snuggled in my lap and wanting to be so close to me that she tries to morph her way into my skin.
Don’t get me wrong, the world is incredibly dangerous with all of the social and economic challenges facing our country. And the United States has always set the standard for democracy that other countries can only dream about. We might not always agree about the politics of military conflicts, tariffs and the price of eggs. But we do have the right and the freedoms to live our lives the way we want. And I hope and pray that our government and those wanting to be dictators of the world, step out of “ego” and never lose sight of the cost of freedom. Freedom isn’t only paid in dollars. It’s also paid with lives.
Included in the Decalration of Indepence is the statement, “all individuals are born with inherent and inalienable rights, including the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” And that does mean ALL. Thanks for reading! God Bless you. And may God continue to bless the United States of America!
Affirmation: I am worthy of happiness and freedom.
“Always remember, if you have been diagnosed with PTSD, it is not a sign of weakness; rather, if is proof of your strength, because you have survived!”
-Unknown
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Today, I want to take time out from celebrating Pride, to give light to National PTSD Awareness Day. This one hit hard as I’ve lived with PTSD longer than I’ve lived without it. And there are so many of us who don’t make it to the other end of the tunnel. It’s an incredibly dark place to wake up to and go to sleep with every night.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) dates back to ancient civilizations and military conflicts. Terms used early on included “combat-related stress,” “shellshock,” “combat fatigue,” and “railway spine.” In the 1800s and early 1900s, the “talking cure: was popularized by Sigmund Freud and introduced in medical literature. And the treatment went from psychoanalysis to electric shock treatment. By the 1950s, the treatments had become more humane. However, now people would not admit to any traumatic symptoms due to the stigma. So, group therapy and psychotropic medications were introduced (blackbearrehab.com, 2025).
In the 1970s Vietnam veterans began experiencing a lot of psychological problems that persisted even after returning home. And survivors of domestic abuse were also included. In the 1980s, PTSD was officially recognized as a mental health problem. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders adopted the diagnosis where it has remained (blackbearrehab.com, 2025).
PTSD is a developed from a traumatic event. C- PTSD when a traumatic event continues for months and years or multiple events occur. The intrusive thoughts, flashbacks, insomnia, avoidance, memory problems, detachment from friends and family, feeling emotionally numb, hyper startle, irritability, trouble concentrating, impulsive behavior, paranoia, severe anxiety, nightmares, suicidal ideations and actions and uncontrollable thoughts about the event. And over time, these symptoms completely devour who you once were (MayoClinic.org, 2025).
I know that PTSD is typically related to soldiers. I am here to tell you that I never went into the military. But the PTSD that I deal with, as a result of domestic violence, grabbed hold of me and has never let go. It has completely stripped me of everything that I used to enjoy. I don’t care about relationships. I question people about their intentions, even if they’re pure and good. I’m constantly waiting for the next shoe to drop. I don’t have typical reactions to being scared. I could see a moth out, of the corner of my peripheral vision, and then jump and scream like Jeffery Dahmer was staring at me and about to take the first bite. I face the stigmas of both friends and family mainly due to a lack of understanding. However, the reasearch information is everywhere. Sometimes others just need to their own leg work. I have come to realize that instead of trying to find out how PTSD affects someone that you love, it’s “the easy way out” to just to be dismissive, embarrassed and judgmental instead. The attitude is “just change X behavior.” Without having a solution, the resounding message of “just make it go away” further ostracizes the person that you say you care about. And so the anticipated glimmer of hope dissipates further isolating the individual. And sadly, can lead to suicide.
PTSD is not about you, it’s about them. It’s just a diagnosis until it’s “you” that experiences it every day. It has taken me down to the point of putting a gun in my mouth. And because living in the abuse was so severe, I actually pulled the trigger after pointing the gun at my torso. It missed my heart by only a few centimeters. Nothing was messed up to the point of needing surgery. But self-harm is something that I’ve dealt with since I was a 13-year-old child. And I had no idea how to deal with all the overwhelming emotions of abuse. In that cold, dark closet where I began to self-harm, and as maladaptive as the behavior is, it worked. It was the only thing that worked to bring me back to complete balance. But the problem is that it became a true addiction issue that I continue to struggle with. And before you ask, yes I’ve done a lot of therapy. It’s not that the therapy doesn’t. It’s that the addiction is that strong.
PTSD is a true injury on the brain. The brain’s job is to help you survive in any way possible. So, we reach for anything to help calm the barrage of intrusive thoughts, memories, smells and sounds. And once it’s been damaged through a traumatic event, it creates a “work around” solution. What typically works? Self-harm and substance abuse creates almost instant comfort. You don’t have to wait for 6-8 weeks to reach your therapeutic dose efficacy to begin working. It’s an immediate fix that some of have to use just to stay alive.
Cannabis was recommended when all other “Big Pharma” medications failed. And it has saved my life on a daily basis ever since. Cannabis seems to put a cloud over my brain saying, “Settle just for a moment.” And for that moment, I can take a break from the constant paranoia and overstimulation of a brain that wanted to do nothing more than survive. And that, is my battlefield. It wasn’t in Iraq, Afghanistan or Vietnam. My battlefield is everywhere I go. I fear people and social situations in a way that most cannot understand.
It literally takes me about a week in advance to start prepping to leave my house just to go to pick up medications,that I,unfortunately have to take. But I don’t take anymore psych meds. I was extremely sick, coming off all the meds that I had been begging for over two years to be tapered off. And I got tired of waiting, so I did it myself. I don’t advise this way because it was a really miserable process. However, I was at a point of desperation. And now about 6 months later, I feel like a new human being after the toxic feeling of all the medications. All of my true feelings and emotions have awakened, and I really like feeling somewhat comfortable at times.
My personal opinion is that anyone returning home from the active duty should be handed an ounce of weed the minute they step off the plane to do with as they wish. And it would be perfectly ok if they gave it away. That’s like paying it forward in “Weed-O-Nomics.” As it stands, soldiers come home from a war that never ends. And they are committing suicide at a rate of 22 soldiers a day. And that is less than unacceptable.
As the topic of cannabis continues to circulate among social circles and national politics, I hope that veterans from our military will step out against the shame that is felt from social stigmas. And reach for the plant that can “help take the gun out of your mouth.” Cannabis doesn’t cure PTSD because it wasn’t the one who caused it. But it does make things much more tolerable.
Thanks for reading! Happy Pride everyone!
Affirmation: I am resilient and capable of healing.
“Getting information from the Internet is like taking a drink from a fire hydrant.”
-Mitchell Kapor
Thanks for coming back to read the final blog about the Most Dangerous Internet Challenges. I have saved the most dangerous of all the challenges I’ve talked about until now. That does not mean that I’m being insensitive to the destruction that the previous ones have caused. However, for varied reasons these last four challenges go down as my top for being some of the most dangerous. Let’s continue…
Skull Breaker Challenge
This is a dangerous challenge that first made its mark on Tik Tok in 2020. I’m not saying that the behavior itself has never been conducted before. Because I’m fairly sure that when I was a teen, we did something similar. The participants work as a group of three. One person stands in the middle, while the other two stand on either side. They tell the middle person to jump up and then very swiftly use a sweeping kick so that the middle person falls to the ground and hits their head. Injuries that have been associated with this challenge include concussion, neck, head and spinal injuries. Skull fractures and paralysis are also known to be associated with this challenge. Tik Tok very quickly took down any videos related to the challenge.
Benadryl Challenge
This is a challenge where it involves taking massive amounts of Benadryl in order to get high and hallucinate. Ok, stop for a second. We didn’t even have internet challenges much less this one. Hell, I did this just to escape my own horrible reality. But you can only take so much before the “high” isn’t a really pleasant experience. However, when you don’t have access to money, as a young teen, you go to the next best place, the parents’ medicine cabinet.
I’m not trying to glorify this. What I am saying is that there are many varied reasons why someone would do something like this. While this can be deadly, I never considered those dangers as a teen. The overconsumption of this medication can lead to confusion, delirium, psychosis, organ damage, hyperthermia, convulsions coma and death. And sadly, there have been children and teens who did not live to see the next internet challenge.
Blackout Challenge
Ok. This one right here has been known to be my poison. The Blackout Challenge also called the “Choking Game” are another one of those things that have thrill seekers mouths watering with anticipation. I had no idea that this had a formal name for behavior until I started seeing this in news reports. The challenge formally began to gain widespread attention on Tik Tok in 2021. It’s a challenge that deprives the brain of oxygen and blocks blood from entering the brain.
Oxygen deprivation of the brain has the potential to cause moderate to severe brain cell death. And because fatalities are often ruled as suicides, it makes the statistics unreliable. I think we all can agree that this can be dangerous. One of the reasons that it’s so popular is because it costs zero dollars to try. As dangerous as it can be, I don’t see this behavior being eradicated.
My personal beginning with this behavior was born out of a very traumatic situation. And I can tell you that the longer kids get their needs met in this way, the more difficult it is to stop. And just like any type of self-harm that serves a purpose for the individual, the results can be deadly.
I completely understand that not every child looks for some type of emotional need to be met with these behaviors. Either way no one can deny the facts about the statistics showing that it can be deadly. I can admit that this isn’t “brain food” and is still considered very stupid to most people. The main thing is for parents to be aware of the signs that are related to this behavior which include discussion of the game, bloodshot eyes, marks on the neck, severe headaches, disorientation after spending time alone, ropes, scarves and belts tied to bedroom furniture or doorknobs or knotted on the floor and unexplained presence of things like dog leashes, choke collars and bungee cords.
Blue Whale Challenge
The Blue Whale Challenge is one that I consider to be very insidious. If you’ve read my recent blog about the online predatory group 764, this is one that’s eerily reminiscent. It was an online social phenomenon in 2016 that began in Russia and claimed to exist in many countries. The game consists of a series of tasks to players over a 50-day period.
In its start, the creator who was a former Russian psychology student, got expelled from the university. He said that he originally created the game in 2013 in order to “clean society of biological wastes.” The tasks begin with things like “get up at 4:30 am” or “watch a horror movie” before moving into self-harm. And the end of the game involves committing suicide. The administrators were found to be children aged between 12 and 14 years of age.
In June 2018, Russian financial analyst, Nikita Nearonov was arrested for masterminding the game. Nearonov is suspected of grooming ten underage girls in order for them to commit suicide. The game has been reported to be banned in countries including Egypt, Kenya and Pakistan. However, experts agree that it’s almost impossible to ban the game.
I hope this series has been informative on some of the dangerous internet challenges. For all the ones that have diminished, there are new challenges in ten-fold waiting to take their place. Remembering how naïve I was as a teen helps me to realize that had the internet been as big then as it is now, I would’ve surely gotten hurt at the very least. I was incredibly impulsive and searching for something to distract me from life as it was. Thanks for reading!
“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.
“I find it quite ironic that the most dangerous thing about weed is getting caught with it.”
-Bill Murray
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go aways. Okie dokie! Today marks my second favorite time of the year. Yep it’s the month of 420! Not everyone agrees with it. For me though, it has saved my life. To the naysayers, there is absolutely nothing you can tell me negatively that I’ll believe about the plant called cannabis.
Cannabis has been around for forever and ever amen with a lot of negative connotations. My own family still takes issue with the fact that federally it’s still considered illegal. And you can’t really have a conversation about it because some of them are not willing to discuss the science. In a lot of ways vilifying this plant because of the Nancy Reagan 80’s seems to have stuck. I have family members that are earthy, crunchy thinkers in regard to health. And their lives all about healing with fruits, vegetables and herbs. But so am I. I like fruits, vegetables and herbs too. I just smoke my herbs. The side effects are very simple: sleepy, happy and hungry. “Big Pharma” on the other hand are constantly being sued for all of the harmful side effects. No thank you to medications that cause more harm than good. And drinking and driving home is the much safer option?
Over the years cannabis has gotten a horrible name. It’s not because it’s a dangerous drug. In fact, cannabis is one of the healthiest plants available. Our country has now made it a priority to invest money into science and discovering the healing properties. And there are scientific studies proving that cannabis isn’t as bad as once thought.
Unlike alcohol and other harmful drugs, cannabis continues to provide people with life saving medicine as it has for me. It’s healing cannabinoids help with chronic pain, epilepsy, anxiety, multiple sclerosis, PTSD, alzheimer’s disease, chemotherapy induced nausea and vomiting, insomnia, cancer, fighting cancer, inflammatory bowel disease, tourette syndrome, crohn’s disease, depression, HIV/AIDS, muscle spasms, anorexia, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, addiction, inflammation,parkinson’s disease, PTSD, reducing blood pressure, anxiety disorders, stabilizing blood sugar, decreasing overdose rates, opioid dependence, spinal cord injuries, dystonia, dementia, glaucoma, schizophrenia and other medical and psychological problems (ncbi.nlm.nih.gov, 2017).
The days of believing that cannabis is a drug that causes great bodily harm are over. Hallelujah! Now let me point out one thing. Cannabis isn’t for everyone just like certain pharmaceuticals aren’t. And I agree that some people might have some type of addiction issues. However, there is no physical withdrawal that occurs. It is impossible to overdose on cannabis. You might take or use too much, causing intoxication. But that’s not the plant’s fault. If you have a problem with addiction to this, it is a “you” problem not the substance.
I can only speak for myself as one who has a lengthy history of addiction, I have never had a problem with marijuana. The problems have always come back to myself and the maladaptive ways of coping. Buying marijuana off the streets where most of it has come from cartels, it can be sprayed with poisons which increase the effects and dependency. And this is also where a lot of the paranoia stems from. Yes, there are people who complain about paranoia induced by cannabis that is bought from very safe dispensaries. These cases are very minimal on a broad scale. So, marijuana might not fit you as an individual. However,for people like me who continue to reap the benefits of this plant minus the addiction, I can say that it has truly saved my life. And as a result has lowered the amount of suicidal ideations that used to plague me on a daily basis.
The effects of PTSD continue to complicate my life. The overwhelming symptoms are not near what they once were. Cannabis does NOT cure PTSD. It simply helps with the unfriendly symptoms and side effects. I have gone from being on close to fifteen psychiatric “big pharma” medications down to zero. I didn’t see the point of taking Parkinson’s medication for a side effect of the anti-depressant. Not to mention that I wasn’t able to experience emotions in a way to gauge how I was healing. And everything from the waist down was literally dead. If that’s the price you pay for happiness, then I would rather be sad. I still struggle hard sometimes. And that is where working with coach is other beneficial piece to my treatment. If it is not a substance that doesn’t work for you then move on. But don’t demonize this medication for those of us that it helps to ensure survivability. Thanks for reading! Keep moving forward.
“It is irresponsible not to provide the best care we can as a medical community, care that could involve marijuana. We have been terribly and systematically misled for nearly 70 years in the United States, and I apologize for my own role in that.”
“They want to make you suffer. And for you to take your own life. They really are very sadistic people.”
-Anna A., Victim Of 764
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away. Okie dokie! Today, I want to talk about online predator groups. I know that the videos that I’ve chosen have some length to them. However, I strongly encourage you to watch these videos. They are graphic in nature. So, please view them at your own discretion.
Some of these predators use platforms where they begin grooming children in areas that is plentiful with kids, online gaming platforms. One thing to remember is that predatory grooming takes on an infinite number of forms and ideas. And these groups that are preying on our kids are on a continuum. These groups seek to control, hurt, manipulate and kill our children. And the predatory group called 764 is one of the most sinister groups.
764 is an online decentralized and transnational sextortion network that is adjacent to the Order of Nine Angels (O9A), a right-wing Satanist terror network. And after gathering information on this group, they are definitely doing the devil’s work. 764’s online networks coerce children into recording themselves engaging in self-harm, sexually explicit acts and violence. This group consists of violent extremists who seek to normalize the production, sharing and possession of child pornography and gore material to desensitize and corrupt youth toward future acts of violence. The group members gain notoriety by systematically targeting, grooming, and extorting victims. They demand that victims engage in and share media of self-mutilation, sexual acts, harm to animals, acts of random violence, suicide and murder. It’s a way of causing chaos by disrupting society.
764 began with Bradley Cadenhead, a teenager from Stephenville, TX. His behavior began at age 8 while watching online porn. His fascination progressed to a fascination with violent torture pictures, videos and gore. He posted a lot on social media about violence. At age 13, he was put on juvenile probation for discussing shooting up a middle school. He briefly returned to a juvenile facility for violating his probation and he continued routinely watching ultra-violent gore content online. Court records have shown that he refused to participate in counseling sessions, repeatedly left home without permission, assaulted his mother, and ingested dangerous amounts of Tylenol and cough syrup which required hospitalization.
His online activities were also unrestricted. While playing Minecraft online he also met another user who deepened his interest in gore. And this is where he learned to groom children on a sextortion server called “CLT.” He then started a Discord server called 764 after the first three digits of his zip code. He along with dozens of others used the 764 Discord server and Telegram to seek out vulnerable children to victimize. Cadenhead moderated the server, which received countless videos and photographs of extreme violence, animal torture. He also posted “How-to” guides on sexually exploiting and extorting minors online to circulate in their channels. Discord reports that when they first identified hundreds of users, they reported it to law enforcement that year. And in 2021, Discord flagged Cadenhead’s online conduct fifty-eight times for sharing “images of prepubescent females and males engaging in sexual act, or in various nude poses.”
Captain Jeremy Lanier, of the Stephenville Police Department, helped to conduct the forensic analysis on Cadenhead’s devices. He is quoted saying, “This wasn’t run-of-the-mill child porn, this was darker. There was one video of a woman being held down and stabbed. This case was awful. It was the worst stuff I’ve ever looked at in six years of working CSAM.” Once a degree of trust was developed Cadenhead and other extorters threatened to harm families and to release the explicit photographs that had been exchanged. They have also convinced children to strangle their pets and bite the heads off pet hamsters on camera. This particular child was found in a bath one night saying that she was to “turn the water red” as requested. The group members also called her school principal and reported that she tried to murder animals which led to a police investigation by local police.
Richard Densmore also known as “Rabid” became popular in 764 by creating “Sewer” communities on Discord where children were recruited by infiltrating online gaming sites. A quote from Densmore would tell victims to cut themselves by saying, “I have all your information. I own you…You do what I say now kitten.” And he would even convince victims to carve “Rabid,” Sewer,“ and “764” onto their bodies with razors and box cutters. He also would sexually exploit the children (justice.gov, 2025).
“These online groups are some of the most egregious online enticement reports that we’re seeing in terms of what they’re seeing that children are being coerced to do.”
-Fallon McNulty, CyberTipline Director
Since 2021 criminal cases were brought again more than a dozen people linked to these types of groups in the United States, Great Britian, Germany, Romania and Brazil. And the US Department of Justice is pursuing federal grand jury proceedings. The group is connected to Eastern European skinhead group who members were also accused of random acts and killings in Ukraine and Russia. Prosecutors have cited Telegram and Discord as the primary means where 764 members operate. They use the platforms “to desensitize vulnerable populations through sharing extreme gore and child sexual abuse material.” However, dozens of Telegram channels remained active. Discord says that they have been shutting down these types of activities on their platform. Discord also said that they now work closely with the FBI and law enforcement agencies. In 2023 Discord blocked 130 groups and 34, 000 accounts linked to 764.
Instagram accounts linked to the extortion networks were still active at the time of this particular article. Despite the parent group Meta implementing bans on 764 related accounts. SoundCloud hosted self-harm and Satanism related playlists which were also allowed to remain online at the time of this information. Even though they release a statement saying, “We strictly prohibit any content that includes or suggests child sexual abuse or grooming on our platform and uses a combination of human moderation and technological tools to identify and remove infringing content.” Roblox, user-created skins for 764 themed characters with the groups sign with open references were also still available. Minecraft, where 764 members are known to be active, reports that there are several systems for removing harmful content including chat filtering, in-game reporting and parental controls. And has teams that participate in review and moderation. A spokesperson for Microsoft, which owns Minecraft’s development studio, states, “Pon private servers that are unmanaged by Minecraft, we will take action to investigate reported violations. However, 764 members have also managed to evade measures the platforms use to try and ban them.
“There’s a far larger pool of recruits and people interested in child abuse and pedophilia that an obscure Satanist sect,”
-Unknown law enforcement official
The FBI and other agencies are investigating 764 and terrorism because of their close ties with Order of Nine Angles, who long with their Satanist rhetoric are also aligned within militant neo-Nazi circles. They use Swastikas, Nazi memes and other propaganda glorifying homicidal members of white supremacist groups like the Atomwaffen Division which frequently appear in Telegram channels. And the urging of children to cut things into their bodies also resemble O9A rituals.
Bradly Cadenhead did admit to the group’s use of the server to do sextortion of individuals. They reported that sometimes they would do it for money. And sometimes they would do it just to have power over another person. And he also admitted that he had urged users in the server to carve his initial on their bodies as a form of homage. Therefore, many of the participants see him as a type of cult leader. Cadenhead pleaded guilty to all he was charged with and was sentenced to 80 years in prison. He is now 18 years old and currently incarcerated at Estelle State Prison in Huntsville, TX (wired.com, 2024).
I know you might be asking why I sometimes share horribly graphic information? And what I can tell you is this, “If you are grossed out and offended by this topic, good. You need to be. My life has been severely impacted by child predators on more than one occasion. And something that started out innocent progressed into a world full of horrors. We as parents seem to think that predatory people are easy to spot. They are the ones who act, dress and speak in a way that deviates from the societal norms. What I experienced was from people who I had already met. Some baby sat me as a child and were very seemingly genuine people. They were nice and built me up. They told me all the things I wanted to hear. And they gave me gifts so they could get close enough as a “friend” setting me up for their next moves. And then in a very carefully planned fashion, they got me to take the first step towards them and set their predatory trap. Then they very gently reeled me in hook, line and sinker. They were not strangers. They were in my church, schools, sports and anywhere else they can find their prey. Your kids might’ve found a new online friend who seems to be a very genuine person. They might pretend to have benign interests and just want to have a new online gaming friend. Remember that predators blend in not stand out. Standing out brings them unwanted attention and threaten to expose their evils. People, please understand that perpetrators operate in the shadows not the light. The light outshines darkness which makes it very uncomfortable for them to be unnoticed. So, they get their satisfaction from the thrill of the manipulative hunt seeking to kill and destroy your loved one.” And when one goes to prison, there are hundreds upon thousands of perpetrators looking to fill that spot.
I love my children and want them to enjoy their childhoods. However, I’m not ok with sacrificing their safety in order to appease someone’s sick curiosity. I’m not saying to not let your children play games online. What I am telling you is to form an even closer bond by challenging something in their behavior that is burning in your gut. And even if you don’t feel that, talk with them regularly about groups like this. Ask them if any of their “online” friends have reported such people. But above all, if something doesn’t seem right, check it out. Our children don’t even gasp the concept of evil predators like this. And I can tell you, that had this been an avenue that I could’ve gone down as a teen, I would’ve walked right into the woods with a clown for a handful of candy. My parents tried to shield us from most harmful things. But I still wasn’t safe from predators. I was taught to trust people until I couldn’t. And, unfortunately, when I understood that point it was too late. I was already in the grasp of a perpetrator. Thanks for reading!
“I’ve been praying for someone to get me out of there since day one. Where were you all this time? Where were you four months ago?!”
“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.
“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.”
She has two faces. One face that she shows the world, loved ones, and in public. The smiling one. The happy, friendly, and talkative one. The confident one full of laughter and positivity. The face that everyone is used to.
The second face is the real face. The one she tries not to show anyone. The face behind closed doors, when she’s alone away from the world, in the security of her own emotions that she doesn’t want to show anyone else or have to explain them. It’s exhausting trying to look happy and like nothing is bothering you. The face that stares off at nothing or patterns on the floor or drapes.
The face that cries in the shower, in bed, car rides alone, cries sitting on the couch, or doing things around for house. The sad face that stares back at her in the mirror and looks nothing like she used to be. Well to her anyway. Others say she looks the same. The face that looks strong to the people she knows, but is really just shards of broken glass inside. Yes, the girl that was there for everyone, and strong for others..is now split into two.
Two faces, one broken spirit. She can’t bear the losses. It feels like a chapter of a wonderful book closed never to be open again.
All she has are memories and visions in her head that she plays over and over. Nothing is the same to her. Everything is different. She can’t cope with daily life, her Doctor said. So she writes to help herself, and she has her two faces.
What’s funny is, the sad face is the face worth a thousand words underneath in the depths of complexity. While the happy face full of laughter, love, positiveness, and fun..is a straight shooter.”
“The more you trust your intuition, the more empowered you become, the stronger you become, and the happier you will become.”
-Gisele Bundchen
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away! Ready. Set. Blog! I hope this blog has brought insight and the knowledge that you are not alone. And that just because someone can’t see your emotional wounds doesn’t mean that it’s not there.
While he psychologically manipulated me, I hung on his every word as if it were scripture. I accept full responsibility for all my actions. But the situation seemed to be escalating exponentially. We married four years later. I do not distinctly remember feeling genuinely happy about it. I just thought that marrying was the next logical step. I remember thinking “no wonder people are miserable when they’re married.” Secretly, though, I was terrified that I was making the biggest mistake of my life. And that is exactly what I did. Nevertheless, we were soon legal. I saw flashing signs warning of potential danger ahead. But I was steadfast in my determination to make it all work.
My belief, at that time, was to just to try and love him. I eventually realized that I would never be able to get that close to him. Soon, though, everything was beginning to make sense. His ever-increasing controlling traits were only getting more aggressive. He would call me names. He would humiliate me away from others until it became overtly obvious. I thought, “Why was seeing it all so foreign? I wouldn’t understand for several years later. The reason that it was so foreign was because I had never seen my daddy treat my mom that way. My daddy is one of respectable men in the community. And I never once saw him disrespect my mom even one time. I was looking for a good man just as he had always been. Not one angry word or action had I ever seen.
He made me do things without my consent. Turn on for him, maybe? I was secretly so miserable. He would rape my mind just like he would my body. He belittled me, stalked me, had total control over what I ate. I felt like it was a prison.I was told that I was stupid so many times I no longer feel as sting when I’m degraded. I bought into all this “perfect” life he was selling. Hook, line and sinker. I soon realized that the safest thing to do was to just do whatever he asked to get through the moment. I had become his emotional punching bag. I was also systematically being pulled away from family and friends. He was going to slowly transform me into his image of “perfection.” And no matter what I did, I would never I couldn’t achieve that unattainable goal. When you’re in a relationship with a narcissist, they see theirselves as “The” God of universe. They never see any need for improvement in any way. Because the only one who needs improvement is you. There was absolutely “zero” concern for both my physical and mental wellbeing.
The initial injury compromised the blood supply to the lower portion of my femur. When I begin to regenerate new bone, it would flake off fragments that needed to be surgically removed to ensure proper functionality. Due to my delay in seeking medical attention, the bony structures continued to shred the cartilage, resulting in further damage to the entire joint. That made him very angry.
There were no words of encouragement or empathy. Just incessant berating for something that I couldn’t control. He wasn’t much of a cuddler either. And after 14 years of abuse, neither was I. If he did there were always ulterior motives. I can vividly recall crying when I was out of his sight, as the pain was so intense. The intensity of crying heightened every situation. Until I learned how not to cry. I was never allowed to take mood stabilizers or antidepressants because “what would people think if they found out that his wife was a head case?” To make matters worse, he would get so angry that he took my pains meds and threw them out into the rain. And I was not allowed to retrieve them. My mom was standing right there and witness it all.
I also experienced severe kidney and bladder infections. I had fevers, hematuria, nausea, and vomiting. It was extremely painful. When he finally took me to an urgent care facility, we were informed that I was at a high risk of developing sepsis. He stated in front of the nurse and doctors, “I told her that she needed to be seen sooner, but she did not want to get checked out.” He then said, “I suppose you won’t do that again next time will you?” I accepted responsibility once more while knowing that the real reason for the delay was because I wasn’t being allowed to get the help.
Things were getting scarier by the day. I was stalked, raped, verbally and mentally abused. I knew how to do one thing that had helped me in the past. Mentally just go to some other place. And let someone else fill in to help with this monumental task. I was made fun of anytime I hurt. I was called a hypochondriac. And eventually I was told that my medical needs were too costly, and that I would just have to learn to deal with the pain. Specifically, I still needed more knee surgeries and procedures for simple wellness. And once again I endured pain in every kind of way you can imagine.
In the end, I lacked self-confidence in myself and was completely shattered mentally. It was fortunate that I left on my own. And I did it and came out alive. The abuse and manipulation I endured over the course of 14 years left me with nothing positive. I realized that I had lost “me” in the process. And I still struggle with my daily life. Let’s just say that relationships are not things that I excel in.
I developed an incredibly high tolerance for pain. However, when I reach my limit, I take a sharp left at a “normal” reaction. My traumatic response is instantaneous. I am very apprehensive about visiting doctors. And it terrifies me to think that I could be berated again.
Maybe life isn’t about avoiding the bruises. Maybe it’s about collecting the scars to prove that we showed up for it.”
-Hannah Brencher
**And as always, don’t forget to watch the video below!**
“Triggers are like little psychic explosions that crash through avoidance and bring the dissociated, avoided trauma suddenly, unexpectedly, back into consciousness.”
-Carolyn Spring
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy, go away! Ready. Set. Blog! Get comfortable because you need to finish reading this one. This took a few days to complete this blog. There is still a considerable amount of raw emotion associated with this topic. Okay, I will continue from where I left off.
When I encountered my next predator, I was 17 years old. He was 36 years old. He was nineteen years my senior. I acknowledge that the entire situation was chaotic at that time. Unfortunately, that chaos became the norm. I realized that I became terrified in the idea that when there was not chaos, I was terrified. I was suddenly thrust headfirst into a harsh adult world for which I was unprepared. It was received like a “turd in the punch bowl.”
Living in a small southern city in the “Bible Belt” region of Mississippi entails a unique set of rules. To put it bluntly, “Being gay should never be regarded as an accepted option.” You are expected to graduate from high school. Attend college. Consider marrying someone of the opposite sex. And to pursue careers while raising children.
I had no idea that my life would drastic 360 degree turn. I would endure a 14-year reign of severe and traumatic terror. What I did not realize as a teenager was that predators can take on various forms, each uniquely individualized. I believed he was my “Prince Charming.” However, every day I looked into the eyes the devil. I entered that relationship with a deep sense of commitment. I was also trying to engage in the “heterosexual game.” And I realized that I was different.
In the beginning, he had been a man with a silver tongue. He said all the right things, leading me to believe that he was a good man who genuinely wanted to love me and build a life together. That was undoubtedly the most misleading revelation of the truth. As he stated, “I was roaming the high schools looking for a wife.” Why did I not find that creepy? Since then, I have asked myself that same question every day thereafter. But what was done, was in fact done.
When I was an athlete, you recognize that pain is an essential component of your training regimen. It is an undeniable reality that managing pain is an inherent aspect of life. You consistently challenge your body in ways you never thought possible. Being in an abusive situation is fundamentally different.
In the four years that we dated, I remember thinking, “Something doesn’t seem right.” I couldn’t identify exactly what “it” was at the time. But I soon realized the harsh reality. I began to realize elements of his likewise traumatic past. Living with a very controlling and abusive father I heard his horror stories. And until his father died, I can tell you that there was some part of him that still feared his father. An interesting fact was that prior to going to visit his father I was directed about how to act. I was so uncomfortable each time. I would watch and listen to how they would interact. And the stories that they both told had a lot of similarities. This was just paranoia, right? No. There were reasons to be paranoid and scared. And I was.
“Your gut knows what’s up, even if your brain doesn’t want to admit it.”-
-Anonymous
**And also don’t forget to watch the video below!”
“Living with chronic pain is like trying to get comfortable on a cactus sofa.”
-Sean Mackey, Professor of Pain Medicine at Stanford
Light the charcoal. Sprinkle the sage. Negative energy go away! Ready. Set. Blog! This is a blog that I’ve needed to write for a really long time. The topic of chronic pain affects every area of my life.
I feel that having both mental and physical pain is too much to ask of a person. I’m not talking about the aches and pains of aging. If that were the type of pain that I experience, I would have no reason to complain. My pain started as a young child with horrific leg pain that would have me in tears. I vividly remember my parents rubbing my legs complimented with a heating pad in order for the tears to stop falling just long enough to fall asleep. And there were no guarantee that I wouldn’t wake up during the night in the same miserable condition. The pediatrician said that the pain was simply “growing pains.” Could this physical pain have been a result of the trauma that I was experiencing? Maybe. Eventually, I would seem to outgrow the leg pains. In the late 1970’s and early 1980’s maybe there were no other answers. And I can accept that. Subconsciously, no one believed me because the depth of my pain couldn’t be seen. However, the mark that was left on the psyche of a small child is one that has left a permanent mental disfigurement.
The next time I remember pain being an issue was as a 13-year-old. The traumatic situations that were occurring left me with horrible headaches. It was at the time that I began having suicidal ideations. The one consistent message coming from my “loud thoughts” was that I wasn’t worthy was unworthy of life. The trauma of that year continues to pound the same messages in my daily life. I just couldn’t see a way out in any direction. It was one agonizing day after another for an entire year. And again, no one believed me. I would also suffer a kneeinjury that I’ve never been about to truly recover from. I’m still dealing with it now in my late forties. When you abuse a child mentally, it’s so easy for them to believe it. To deal with it all, I began “grasping at straws” trying to find 5 minutes of relief. And I did! I found drugs, alcohol, eating disorders and self-harm.
Then I moved into high school. But the previous year continued to torment me. Not only was I caught up in the cycle of addiction, but I was also starting to die from them all. Anyone who says that addiction isn’t painful are lying. It doesn’t matter what type of addiction. It might not seem to hurt in the moment. However, if you are a human being with a conscience, it will hurt at some point. And when it did, I kept using “it” out of guilt and shame. My hopes and dreams were going down the drain. And I had no idea how to make it all stop. I wasn’t my own boss anymore. It was my boss. I would also have another knee surgery, maybe two. And then, I met him…
“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.”
Several months ago I wrote a blog titled No Thanks Needed. This was one call that I worked while in the Emergency Medical Service (EMS) field. Let’s face it, no one calls for an ambulance or seeks out any helping professional because things are going great in their lives. Likewise, I didn’t seek out counseling because functionality was my No. 1 attribute. I began seeking counseling because I was being tormented though it was not voiced at the time.
The title of this post “10-4 Control We’re 10-8” I have said hundreds of times while working on the ambulance. It simply means, “Yes we are enroute.” I’m sure this varies from service to service depending on the differences in 10 codes and signal numbers nationwide but you get the general idea. There is no possible way to do justice through words what working in this type of job carries physically, mentally, spiritually and just about any other area of a human being’s existence.
As a teenager, I had my heart set on being a police officer. Then I determined that since I loved doing drugs that being a police officer was probably not the best option. However, I had the need and want to be in some type of helping profession. At a young 20 years of age the thought of going to school 6 years for a counseling degree was nowhere near the table. Finding out that I could go to EMT school for 6 months, however, was. I was beyond excited and totally immersed myself in my studies and training. My husband wasn’t real excited because the pay was extremely low in that career. But for me there was a higher calling, the want and need to help people.
I studied myself silly those 6 months and learned everything I possibly could about this exciting field that I saw myself loving naturally. We were told about different types of scenes that would be a high likelihood that we would encounter. However, nothing could ever prepare me for the things that I would actually see and experience. In my personal life, though, the grasp of the evil hands of abuse seemed to become tighter and tighter. He pretended to support my career decision but that’s all that it was….PRETEND.
In February 1997, fresh out of EMT school and newly married I got my first truck assignment making a meager $4.95/hr with the local ambulance service. I worked for an ALS (Advanced Life Support Service) which required that a paramedic to also be on the truck. This meant that the drugs given and additional skills that would be required were higher than my scope of practice. Some of these skills would include intubation, cardiac monitoring, starting IV’s, giving narcotics and various other skills that I as an EMT-Basic could not legally do.
Performing as an athlete required split second decisions but now it was not about winning ballgames it was about someone’s life. Mistakes now had a much higher price tag. The one thing I always tried to be as an EMT was humble. There were those that had a very narcissistic view of their position and thought of themselves as a god. This was not a stance of mere confidence but a stance that nauseated me to my core. Most of the time I would see this in paramedics which we would then refer to them as “Paragods.” Working alongside confidence rather than blatant narcissism was where you could really learn and working with confident paramedics I did learn.
We were taught in school about the importance of “self-care” while in this career that would be crucial to making it past the national burnout rate which, at that time, was only 5 years. Included in the self-care education was the importance of EAP counseling after a bad call or mass casualty. The daily stress of the job and the ongoing abuse at home ensured that I would never come close to that 5 year mark. There are laws now that regulate the amount of hours that a crew can work without downtime but then apparently there weren’t. It was nothing to have to work 24, 36 or a 48 hour shift with very minimal sleep and/or food. We were commonly called “Trauma Junkies” because it seemed the more horrific the scene the better as bad as that might sound.
There were several “bad calls” that I experienced but only a couple where afterwards I went to a supervisor to request EAP services just like what was suggested. What I was met with was the attitude of “if you can’t handle your job then you might need to consider another career.” Not only that but then you have to face being ostracized by not only management but also the other medics in the company and seen as “less than” or “weak.” So, really the only option was to “suck it up” and somehow separate mentally from the daily harsh reality of life.
Anyone who has ever worked in some form of EMS services understands that as a means of survival the job requires that emotions be put to the side and you function purely on logic. But suppressing these emotions does not mean that emotions were not affected. In this kind of career there is a lot of maladaptive behaviors that take to the forefront namely drug/alcohol addiction and a high rate of suicide. Not surprising but nevertheless a reality. I saw things and was involved in situations that the human brain has difficulty processing and accepting.
My husband’s opinion and others that I’ve spoken with at times posed the statement, “Well you chose the career” or “You have the easiest job on the planet. All you do is sit on your ass in an air conditioned truck.” Easiest job on the planet couldn’t have been farther from the truth. It was one of the most dangerous and taxing jobs that one could possibly encounter. The downtime that we would have sitting in the truck “posting” at a location was only due to other trucks being on calls and us covering their area.
I have always replied, “Well then who else was going to do the job? You?” That was always met with silence.
My husband, at the time, was a newspaper editor and well he didn’t and still doesn’t have a clue what that type of job entails. I told him more than once, “If you can work on someone’s mother, father, grandmother, child or grandchild for them to still die even after your best efforts and then go home and lay your head on the pillow and sleep soundly doing this day in and day out then you’re not human. You’re a machine.” The ability to function like this day in and day out requires a certain degree of callousness. But make no mistake that those calls bothered me then and now.
For the last 21 years, I have run some of those same calls all day and all night like my career never ended. The putrid smells of rotting flesh from week old dead bodies that had to be taken to the morgue I can again smell at random times throughout the day. The smells of blood, fuel and mud/dirt from car wrecks. The screams of mothers who I had to tell that their child was dead or wouldn’t survive due to the severity of their injuries. The horrible images of abuse and/or neglect of children, adults and the elderly. The smell and site of exposed brain matter from head injuries, suicides and or murders. The individuals that died simply because you couldn’t get them out of the vehicle because the jaws of life were being used elsewhere and subsequently the vehicle caught fire and were burned alive. The children that would look at you and ask, “Are you going to help my momma or daddy?” While knowing full well that their parent was already dead. The decapitations that looked and felt like you were in a real live horror film. And the leftover pieces of meat that don’t even resemble a human body after being hit by a train consume my thoughts and emotions when most people lay down for a night’s rest. It’s at these times, once again, that my shift starts on the once beloved career working on an ambulance. I didn’t work several years. I only worked one year on the ambulance until the abuse at home combined with the daily trauma that I was exposed in this career caused me to buckle. I saw enough in that one year to still have me waking up in the mornings with my face and shirt wet with sweat.
Without fail whenever I see or hear those lights and sirens, I instantly want to run and jump on the truck and ask, “Ok. What kind of call are we going to?” Sometimes I’ll still listen to a local scanner to find out what’s going on throughout the city especially on a weekend. I will also hear those very same words, “10-4 control we’re 10-8” and then the crew is given the next location for an additional call. It’s in those moments that I realize that EMS and the need and want to help people will always be a part of me. And at night I realize that EMS is still a part of me.
One of the most powerful lessons that was taught to me through experience of working in EMS is to tell those that you care about that you love them even strangers because you might be the only one that speaks those words. The last words you say might very well be the last words that are said.
“The most basic job of an EMT is to notice things and then wonder about them.”
“The conflict between the will to deny horrible events and the will to proclaim them aloud is the central dialectic of psychological trauma.” ― Judith Lewis Herman, Trauma and Recovery
I’ve always been told the saying, ‘when it rains it pours.’ Right now, my life feels like a hundred year flood. And for those who read this blog, yes, I did manage to make it through Halloween. It wasn’t easy and I was medicated, but I wasn’t going to miss our son’s trick or treating for anything no matter how painful it was for me.
You may or may not view this as a “pity party” session and well that’s on you. I view this as being able to freely voice my agony which tends to be very cathartic. I’d like to think that this string of painful losses was just for the month of September. There are several events that seemed to congregate in that month. The psychological trauma began many years ago so, I’m not a ‘newbie’ to bad shit happening. Matter of fact, I can usually handle that much better than “normal” life. Why? For many years, that has been my normal.
This year has been one, thus far, that I’ll never forget. The spring brought two suicides. The summer brought the most intense internal and external psychological battle that I think has ever been waged against me. September…..well….it doesn’t have a season because what started then hasn’t stopped even now. There is nothing that could’ve prepared me for when my brother’s wreck that happened and yet he still survived and is doing very well. Less than a week later another suicide that I was directly associated with occurred. Another suicide only a couple of weeks ago happened yet again. And now some concerning news that I must just chew on for the moment.
Have I learned some difficult lessons this summer? You bet I have! September just seems to keep feeding me and my family all kinds of stuff that just makes you shake your head. And it’s not over yet. In the meantime, I start deep work on my molestation as a child very soon. Sometimes you wonder what your limits are and then voices from the past namely Nick Kolinsky and Randy King among other coaches remind me that “A Winner Never Gives Up!” We were never allowed as players to give a half ass effort. So, even now, with tears streaming down my face, what was instilled in me as a ballplayer keeps me going. You just enjoy the good times and prepare for the bad. Things have happened so quickly that life hasn’t afforded me time to catch my breath.
And now I get ready to embark on a deeper more painful part of the journey of trauma recovery that I have yet to experience. I have asked many questions about why I have to pay both mentally and physically for the evil that was done by others. The only solace I can find, at this juncture, is so that I can finally have my voice heard. Oh, there have been people that have said along the years that they were listening to me. Actually hearing what I have to say from a humanistic standpoint, I’ve been stranded. I must admit that some of that is my fault because I kept so many secrets and protected my abusers both out of fear and intimidation.
Dear Perpetrators
Those days of fear and intimidation are gone. I survived without your help. People are now going to hear what you did to me. I was once your victim. Now, I’m the warrior about to face you again and again for as long as it takes for me to have freedom.
Sincerely,
YOUR worst nightmare
Our Thanksgiving plans consist of going to Arkansas to spend with my brother and sister-in-law and our new ‘chosen’ family. He is then riding back with us to Albuquerque to spend a month with us. Does the universe know that I’m going to need some extra support in the coming months? I would have to say undeniably YES! Big things are going to happen in the next couple of months that are going to be both good and bad. I see nothing wrong with two people wanting to promote healing together. Sometimes all I need is my big brother as comfort. And sometimes all he needs is his equally crazy sister to tell him that things will get better. Nothing but good can come from this. I will not only have my dear son and wife here as comfort. But, my big brother is going to be here to push me in a way that no other person on this earth can do. We also have over 20 years of jokes and laughter to catch up on. So, my dear brother, thank you in advance for the comfort and support that only you can give in the next couple of months.
What people don’t understand about mine and Levi’s relationship is that just being around each other for less than an hour, we already begin healing. So, having a man that I’ve always trusted when I was always told that he was “bad news” is something that I can still laugh about today. He saved my life many years ago and I can only hope to repay the debt one day. The boys/men that I was told I could trust raped and molested me physically and emotionally.
Since, my only sibling has been AWOL since I ‘came out’ as being gay, she made a choice and I made mine. I have two brothers named Levi Pierce and Chris Pierce that I can depend on no matter what. My sibling’s name, unfortunately, has slowly been forgotten. I have a beautiful family and extended family with absolutely no blood relations, no matter what her choices are.
Levi and Chris Pierce and all of our ‘chosen’ family in Arkansas, thank you for loving me and my family unconditionally. Charlene Pierce, thank you for loving my brother and being patient enough to be his wife. LOL. Levi, thank you for staying off the damn motorcycles for this long! I love you and can’t wait to see you soon!
“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
—-Ian Maclaren
I usually try to start of my posts lighthearted or a good toddler moment. This post I cannot seem to find anything to joke about. I have searched deep within me and all I find is tears. I have questions but no answers. My life has been changed yet again forever. The quote above couldn’t be more fitting for this life event.
There are many dates that are in my little book of life that I keep tucked away in the deep recesses of my mind. The day September 3, 2014 is another day that will never be forgotten. That day was the Wednesday of the same week that we got back from being with Levi and his family in Arkansas. I was slowly beginning to decompress from that situation. Adjusting back to daily life in Albuquerque was underway. I missed him more than I ever imagined. It was back to being a long distant relative.
I was trying to get the house back in some type of order from us leaving in such a hurry. I was washing and folding clothes with nothing specifically planned for the day. I recognize the sound of facebook messenger alerting me to a message. A mutual friend told me that she needed to talk to me ASAP. So, I half way drop what I was doing and said, “What’s up?” Not knowing or worrying about the answer that would come back. “Hey, I have a friend that said that he wants to ‘end it all,’ she said. I said, “What’s going on?” I didn’t ask for a name because I didn’t see the relevance at the time. Instantly, the therapist side of me is at attention. She asked, “Do you know a guy on facebook by the name of Kyle Brewer?” I told her very quickly, “Of course I do. We went to school together some in elementary and middle school, why?” Apparently, I couldn’t seem to do math because I didn’t see the correlation as to why the question was asked. She said, “It’s him that’s saying that.” I still didn’t worry because we had just spent some time with him as a family on our recent nightmarish visit to Petal, MS. We had gone out to his house and spent time talking and laughing. I told her not to worry that he would respond to either me or Mel.
Kyle and I were also alike in the sense that we both love to find the funny in just about anything. We were always finding rude, inappropriate but yet hysterically funny things on Facebook and sharing them with each other. He had a some
what perverted style of humor that most would find distasteful. He and I were able to enjoy some good laughs over a snow cone or two. He also adored Marshall.
He wasn’t responding to me or Mel in any way. I instantly knew that my friend was in trouble. I’m usually not very ‘jumpy’ about suicide threats. But, in my gut, something told me this situation was different. This mutual friend of ours had also been trying to get in touch with him all morning. She was in another state and so was I. Why did he pick her to tell? Because he knew she was too far away to do anything about it. That’s just my hypothesis. And he also didn’t specifically mention wanting to ‘end it all’ because he knew what profession and obligations I would have if he did say something.
We began discussing what we needed to do. In the meantime, the only thing I could think to do was to grasp at straws by putting a message out on Facebook for him to call me. I think the message actually read something like, “Kyle Brewer, pick up your damn phone and call me right now!” The minute I hit send and it was posted he contacted me through messenger.
I told our mutual friend that I was currently talking to him and to go ahead and call 911. I told her, “If he gets mad at you, then he’ll be mad at me because he knows you don’t know where he lives. And if he gets mad, as long as, he’s alive he can get over it. But, if he was dead he would no longer have that option.” I tell her that she has to tell the dispatch verbatim the way I tell her to tell them how to get to his house because it was located way out. She calls and soon tells me that dispatch is heading out there to do a welfare check just to make sure he’s ok. They also tell her that when they know something they will let her know.
While all of that was going on, I was desperately trying to talk to Kyle. What was said between us is something that I will only discuss with my therapists. The point is that as long as he’s talking, he’s not dead. I share some very personal stuff with him and ask him questions. He finally tells me, “I’m tired. Thanks for the talk!!!!” It was at this point, that I knew that Kyle was no longer able to keep the mask that many of us use everything we have to keep it in place anymore. We were both talking from our hearts without humor. That was the last time I ever had contact with him.
It was a couple of hours later when our mutual friend messaged me and said, “Dana, we need to talk.” My blood ran cold; my heart began to shatter and my stomach was turning like I was on a ride at a theme park. I already knew. She said, “Dana, he’s dead.” At that moment, time seemed to stop.
Fortunately, Mel was here with me and Marshall was still at daycare. I began sobbing like a small child. I couldn’t make sense of anything. My greatest fear was that the emergency services wouldn’t make it there in time. This seemed to be the reality for the moment. All of my senses seemed to disappear. My tears felt like they were coming from every pore in my body. Mel just sat, held me and let me cry. At that moment, there was nothing else that could be done.
We did find out later that the emergency services did make it to his house in time. He greeted them in the yard like nothing was wrong. There probably didn’t seem like a reason to stop him from going back into his house. He told them he had to run back inside and would be right back out. He went back in his house, locked the door and shot himself. He was one of them. He was a volunteer firefighter that probably knew many of the people that arrived to check on him. He used the mask to both his favor and detriment. I lost my friend to a term called PRIDE.
Kyle Brewer was like many of us ‘clowns.’ We all seem to have it together because we can make people laugh. Take a moment and try to imagine what my friend Kyle would’ve looked like if we had been able to turn him inside out. I bet you wouldn’t see anything but a heart full of love for those he loved mixed with the tears of what he knew was about to happen. EVERYONE has demons and secrets. He just didn’t see the other side where there could be light instead of darkness.
Even now, I selfishly shed tears because I’ve lost yet another friend by violent means. I also cry for his family of EMS workers and biological family. He will never be able to carry out his duty as an uncle, son, brother or husband because of one decision. I don’t hate nor am I mad at him. He was my friend and I will continue to grieve his loss.
I have now been involved in just about every angle of suicide as both a teenager and as an adult. Has this one event changed me? You bet it has! I question everything I said to him. I’m constantly re-reading our last conversation. And, I question my ability as a professional. What my head understands, my heart can’t comprehend.
I’ve had people contact me through various ways thanking me for what we did to help. I can’t help but to very angrily think, “I did nothing! He’s still dead! We all lost!” I wish I could see things differently right now, but I can’t. I take their nice comments and say thank you like I was taught many years ago. But, I will probably be forever haunted by “The Day Time Stopped.”
“You must strive to find your own voice. Because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all.”
-Dead Poets Society
I have read and listened to a lot of information about the death of Robin Williams. I’ve seen a lot of mental health advocates, once again rise surrounding stigmas and mental health. Why has his death affected me to the point that my soul hurts? Let’s see….I’ve been in some pretty dark places in my lifetime. I could always count on someone like Robin Williams to get me out of that dark place. Just the shock of his death and the way he died by his own hand, has brought back many thoughts, feelings and emotions.
While a short stint as an EMT, I saw enough to last me forever. I would do it again. But, there’s consequences from doing this type of work every day. One such occasion includes a suicide that I responded to while working on the ambulance. Everything about that scene, I remember like it was yesterday. A murder scene with all of the sights, sounds and smell reminders are enough to have me feeling like I’m having a heart attack. Suicides of people that I’ve known throughout my life and never knowing why but understanding how they reached that point of hopelessness circulate my brain.
I have been forced to sit with these kind of feelings most of my life without many people knowing. After all, we are brought up in a society that wants us to look great even when things aren’t ok. I’ve realized that sometimes the people that make us laugh the hardest seem like they have the greatest scars that people seldom see. Some scars aren’t hidden like the ones on my arms. The scars on my arms are ones that say that I’ve been through a battle. But, the scars on my heart and mind say that I’ve been through and are still going through a war.
Just the topic of suicide can make me physically ill. This topic has affected me in so many ways both personally and professionally. Everyone has “secrets” that are not told. Society likes to judge and think that suicide is the ‘easy way out’ or ‘selfish.’ I’m not saying in any way, shape, form or fashion that one’s own personal belief, at that moment, isn’t distorted. But, I believe that most people who commit suicide do it to protect their families from knowing the truth or being considered a “drain” on the family. This isn’t every reason my any means. Suicide, from their view, could be an act of love. These families seldom know for sure. This is why death, in this way, is so difficult for the remaining family.
One can only speculate now, the real reason that Robin William committed suicide. However, knowing that he was affected by a known mental illness, I understand how tiring it can be. I’ve always said, “Everyone has a limit.” How far down does yours go?
I’ll leave this tribute to Robin Williams and the field of therapy that I saw on Facebook today.
“The loneliest people are the kindest. The saddest people smile the brightest. The most damaged people are the brightest. All because they never want to see others suffer the way they do.”
—–Anonymous
The topic of Robin Williams committing suicide really saddens me. He was a man that has always been able to lift me up with a nice dose of humor. I don’t know the details to this or any other celebrities suicides. But, I do know the anguish that comes from living with a mental disorder due to circumstances beyond one’s control. Maybe, Robin William’s bipolar disorder symptoms were purely biological? I highly doubt it. There are probably images of things done and said to him by one or many perpetrators. These are the types of things that can keep a person away for hours. It’s torment on the mind and the body. Once the physical symptoms evolve, there starts somewhat of a decline in functioning even on a seemingly minute level. A comment I read on social media was, “He always appeared so happy.”
First of all, he’s a celebrity and is held to a higher standard. We live in a society where everything is about image not truth. Most victims of abuse continue to protect their abusers out of fear. Likewise, most individuals who have a mental illness, stay quiet due to social stigma. So, the attitude seems to be more of a “let them get the help they need. Just don’t mention anything about it so no one knows.”
Society has somehow labeled everyone with a mental illness as “dangerous.” Depending on what the particular diagnosis is seems to determine how one might react. People already have in their minds what “bipolar” “depression” “anxiety disorders” “substance abuse disorders” and/or ”schizophrenia” “personality disorders” look like. So, for example…..anyone who has bipolar disorder is going to be seemingly hyper one moment and depressed the next moment all while in the same conversation with you. Not everything is as it seems. The information most people have on specific mental illnesses is the direct contact of a family and/or friend. And, of course, the media which seldom presents things unbiased on any topic. Very true, that there are mentally ill individuals who are dangerous. But, many walk among us quietly having never been diagnosed or been able to get or afford treatment. There are also those individuals with mental illness that are not dangerous which represents the majority.
I consider my wife and I to have a really good policy for outpatient mental health benefits. However, due to specific needs, our insurance won’t cover trauma treatment because they don’t see the need for it. Really? I asked that poor person on the phone, “How are you able to sleep at night?” Yea….the privilege of being able to talk to our insurance company has been permanently disabled. Eating disorders, PTSD due to military service and substance abuse disorders are paid for with no problem. I had someone from a treatment center that asked me, “Have you ever been in a war?” My response was, “Ma’am, I didn’t serve our country. But, I’ve been in a war the majority of my life. Doesn’t that count for something? I did nothing to deserve what was done to me.” “Yea, I’m sure it’s tough to live like that but you don’t meet criteria for our program.” This is the typical answer we receive. Diagnoses are great for insurance billing but somewhat useless in society. All it seems to do has been to cause a nationwide panic to keep mental illness a secret.
If you have a question about a particular disorder, look it up or ask someone with the disorder. Not your moody neighbor that waves and cusses you out in the same breath. Then, you have decided that in all your education and classes on diagnosing that you have never taken, lead you to the diagnosis of bipolar disorder. Don’t just depend on any type of media to educate you about mental illness. Look up scholarly journals not Wikipedia, and look at the studies that have been done with individuals with particular disorders. Hollywood’s movies are designed to be dramatic and make money. Those of us with mental illness just want to learn how to live a comfortable life.
I would imagine that even though, Robin Williams, had more money then I’ll ever see in my lifetime. None of it was bigger than his disorder or his trauma. Everything you do and/or say affects someone either positively or negatively. Be especially sensitive around children because, what you do and how you make them feel will last forever. Everyone has a breaking point and Robin Williams found his.
I initially started blogging about 5 years ago. I’m originally from the deep south in Petal, MS. It’s exactly half way between Gulfport, MS and Jackson, MS and just across the bridge from Hattiesburg, MS. Petal has a population around 11,000 now but growing up as a small child and teenager there were significantly less people. Small town USA complete with the noisiness, conservative politics, religion, strong beliefs, great food, respect taught through the generations, southern hospitality, friendly neighbors who are loyal as family, resilient, head strong and loyalties within a “good ole’ boy network.” No more loyalties than any other small town I’m sure. But this “loyalty” hurt me and changed the course of my life forever.
Me and my wife completed Master’s degree in Couseling and then moved to Albuquerque, NM to begin our careers and start a family. But as life would have it, Mental Illness began to effect our hopes and dreams one day at a time. A few years later I would be diagnosed correctly….finally…with Dissociaitve Identity Disorder. We would eventually have two little boys that we adore and make you want to keep going with things get difficult.
My writing is about the struggles of living as an individual and LGBT family with a parent with severe mental illness. The sometimes the humor of it all and the often heartbreaking reality of the effects of abuse and mental illness on the indivial and family unit as a whole will keep those that struggle from feeling that you live on an island. And the families will see that you can love someone with a mental illness without becoming a prisoner to their behaviors. And maybe you will also see that the struggle for us as your family memeber have more struggles then what we let on at times.
Anyway, enjoy the laughs and tears with our family as they support me while I search for the puzzle pieces of an abusive life. I will say this…I don’t sugar coat anything. Sometimes my blogs can be graphic but abuse isn’t pretty. I’m in the process of healing so topics are frequently repeated and attitudes change from positive to dark. Either way, this is MY life and MY therapeutic journey towards healing. Hold on because this ride is bumpy.
Hit the “Follow” button and watch us grow. I don’t write every day because my functionality can change on a dime. I cover many different topics related to abuse and mental illness. This blog builds so read from the beginning and see Where we were. Where we are now. And where we are going. Happy Reading!
This Puzzled Life 