Thursday, February 21, 2013

setting it free

I have tons of stuff that gets re-posted over and over...ALL OVER.  But somehow this never made it onto my blog. I'm going to leave it here today, because I, once again, have it on my clip board, from re-posted it for the umpteenth time.

This is known as my Self Inflicted Violence talk for newbies. I have explained this info so many times, my hands have gotten tired of typing it, so I "canned" it in a document and dish it out know like spam. This was originally written to a man who's friend self injured and he couldn't grasp it. So I explained it to him.

I need to go dig out the one I wrote for parents who have just learned there child is self injuring.

* * TRIGGER * * talk of self injury * *

A bit more info on Self inflicted Violence (SIV) for those interested.

Intense emotional pain is hard to deal with. You can't see it, you can't put a bandage on it, you can't fully explain it to anyone else. The pain is personal and well, excruciating. Some people have learned not to show pain, or lack the ability to effectively communicate pain.

When the tension builds internally to a point that feels like..."I'm going to explode, I am going to go insane" people who self injure...injure themselves. This act does many things...says many things....

1. It transfers the pain to the surface, where you CAN see it, you CAN heal it. You can't bandage the soul, but you can bandage your arm.

2. The blood speaks volumes as to the internal pain. Think of the cut as a red mouth screaming the pain. (this maybe the only way a person can express the discomfort they are in).

3. The act itself will literally cut the tension one is feeling. You are left with a calmness, a dissociating "high", you feel back in control now that the energy is released. This fact makes SIV a very addicting act. You are positively reinforced each time you injure.

SIV is very alarming/disturbing to people who don't do it. What you need to know about us is this. We are not trying to kill ourselves with the injuring...think of it more as self medicating.

SIV does not = suicide attempt. Suicide is an another category all by its self. Suicide = taking action to ends ones life, while SIV = taking action to ease internal pressure, so one can keep on functioning.

It is in fact often used to stop one from reaching that point of seeking fatal means to cope. The number one most common denominator to SIV is a history of sexual abuse...we are talking about deep deep issues that need a professional touch here, the healing journey is a hard one. Deep issues must be faced, a commitment to healing and working towards learning and using healthy coping skills must be there.

One doesn't have to have any abuse in there background to learn SIV as coping skill., it works just as well no matter the reason behind it. SIV is about control too...controlling ones emotions and feelings and destiny.

Cutting can give a sense of control. I CONTROL WHEN AND WHERE I FEEL THE PAIN.

We are NOT crazy for injuring ourselves. We are just in pain, and have lost the ability to communicate any other way.

Think of it this way...the SIV is a fever. Its a symptom of a deeper infection that needs to cleared up before the fever goes away. You would never tell a sick person...just stop having a fever. We do medicate the fever away, but does the cure the infection? nope. There is deeper work we need to do.

Things that are not helpful...

1. giving ultimatums You may not cut. I won't be your friend if you injure yourself.

2. "Stop it for me." "promise me you won't cut for me" - We need to stop for ourselves.

3. "just don't cut" - if it were that simple don't you think we would do it?

4. Non injuring contracts. SIV is a coping mechanism. It may very well be there ONLY coping skill. Until there is a new skill learned-practiced-implemented, the SIV will continue. (We don't ask babies to be born and get up and walk the same day. they learn to use there muscles first, roll over, crawl, stand, then walk. it is a slow gradual process.)

Re-learning/learning healthy coping skills is hard work. It is not an overnight process, expect the SIV to continue as we work in therapy. In the cases of past trauma, it might actually increase as the past is dealt with.

peace be the journey

Sunday, February 17, 2013


I have a picture of my mama that I snapped on a camping trip when I was in my teens. She is in her robe and sitting backwards on the picnic table bench with coffee mug in her hand. She had been staring at the fire with a intense look. You can see the darkness around her. Just as I snapped the picture she turned and looked at me. There is an emptiness in her eyes.

I took the picture because the writer in me saw something deeper there. That I was witnessing a peek into her soul, into her reality. A place my teenage mind couldn't fathom.

Its always been my favorite picture of her.

I look like mama.  Her old highschool friends will come into my work and stop with mouths open and stare at me. They all say the same thing "P_____?!"

Brother #2  thought the picture of her leaning on the tree in Tiny Gma's photo album was me.

I think we share something deeper then appearances.

I think we both know the secrets... the hidden secrets that writers know.

We are Helen of Troy, we both have worn the jewelry of royalty. We have been exsaulted and worshiped.

We sing in our hearts siren songs, we understand the morse code the waves beat into the sand.

We dig holes with our secret pain that no one knows we carry,

fill them into overflowing puddles with our silent hidden tears.

We pluck our own feathers from our wings to give to others so they can fly...

leaving us flightless, and behind.

We drift aimlessly on the rolling waves of depression hoping no one will see us

not wanting to be the anchor that pulls anyone down.

We are spirited range mares, doesn't take much to set us off bucking and kicking into a gallop,

hooves clicking on the stones, tails flying into the can't catch us

tame us

have us

we are all that is woman, we hold the ancient pain like some torch that must not be exstingushed.

We lead the way,

and bring up the rear.

We give so much and then cry into our pillows cause we think no one saw us...or can possible understand us.

We fight with our selves in epic battles no one ever sees.

Each day rising to shoulder our packs and soldier on.

We have greeted the born and held the dead.

Protect the young and set them on there own two feet and set them to running on there own lives journey.

We speak to each others image never addressing the person behind it.

We have loved deeply

woven all the magic we discovered in this life into a magical crazy quilt of neurosis's.

We can speak volumes with a flash of our Scorpio eyes

Found special men who steady us without holding us too tight

Opened books and gotten lost in the pages.

Can look at blank note books and see the words on the pages

feel like that if we write enough we will find the right combination of words that will solve the rubic cube we call life.

I see mama when ever I look into the mirror. That camping trip snap shot look stares back at me. A now familiar landscape of the soul of a mama and daughter.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

sick kid who can't communicate

I am going to invent a patch that you apply to your childs arm and it will then tell you what is wrong with them.

Apply patch: wait 30 seconds look at it - You child has a virus, fluids/rest/Tylenol.
Apply patch: wait 30 seconds look at it - Head ache Tyl/cold rag to forehead/back of neck
Apply patch: wait 30 seconds look at it - Pulled muscle in left groin
Apply patch: wait 30 seconds look at it - teething - 12 year old molars
Apply patch: wait 30 seconds look at it - puke alert! GET A BUCKET
Apply patch: wait 30 seconds look at it - CALL 911

My son is sick.

Oh, I know all the signs to look for that warrants a 911 call or a frantic "off to the ER/urgent care we go"

But, I as a parent, could use some help for the other stuff.

When JUR was young and his speech delay was at its worse. I couldn't communicate with him.

I could never get confirmation from him if he was understanding the things I was teaching him. He never (that I know of) tried to tell me he was not feeling well. I had to watch for symptoms. And sometimes even then, he would act as if nothing was wrong. Just recently he was teething, growing in his HUGE 12 year old molars and not a peep out of him, no "oh my mouth hurts today" or anything, just the depositing of each baby molar at my desk as they were pulled out. Its like he has some disconnect to pain and the ability to communicate it.

Last week he had a resurfacing of mumbled speech.

Since he has a history of not being able (or willing?) to share what is going on, I noted the behavior and began watching for other symptoms. Problems cropped up at school so I got proactive and backed up his bed time, added more protein to his meals, listened a little closer to him. Scheduled a doctors appt to check on his GERD and insomnia issues to see if there is anything safe to give him now that he is older.

Last Thursday he awoke tired and exhausted as usual. He mumbled something I couldn't hear, so I rubbed his back and repeated that it was time to get up.

He grimaced and repeated clearer "My side hurts"

"Which side?" I asked, as the Dr in me instantly diagnosed him with appendicitis.

"Right side" he moaned. "Right here."

Now I have to this a child who doesn't want to go to school, or could he possibly be really ill.

Wished I had those patches invented already.

(I know what you are  thinking, You just said he doesn't communicate pain to you. Sounds like he just did...which is my point exactly here. When he does this, I can't tell if he is really reporting something, which would be totally out of character for him, or just pulling my leg to get out of going to school.)

I choose to error on the side of caution. I had him sleep in. At 8:00 am he got up and milled about. I made him go to the bathroom and eat a good breakfast. The pain seemed to subside, and by 8:45 he was playing on the computer.

I made him get dressed and took him to school.

All the while I doing the right thing? Or should I be taking him to the ER to be evaluated for appendicitis. I'm going to feel really bad if it IS appendicitis and I made him go to school.

He came home that afternoon and proceeded to gallop about rough housing with the neighbor boy. Guess I made the right call.

So today (Saturday), he starts with chills and a high fever and puking. His side no longer hurts.But its in the back of my mind. He somehow didn't catch the Noro-virus when the rest of us had it a short while back. Not to mention there is a rash of other crud circulating about the school.

Am I missing something? Am I allowing my fears of catastrophic illness cloud my judgement on how to take care of my son? Gosh parenting is really hard sometimes. I make mistakes. I don't always know what to do.

I know when to call 911. Just ask my farm kids, I called it twice while raising them. I would do that without hesitation for my kids. Any of my kids.

I have to get working on that patch...that is an invention I am sure a LOT of parents could use.

Until them I will sleep lightly listening to every move my son makes all night.

Morning update - after 103-104 temp all night he awoke as if nothing had happened and was ready for Popsicle  His temp this morning is 102. On the mend I hope.

Evening update: He is eating small bites, temp still 102 more active and talkative tonight. He won't take anything for the fever, the children's tyl makes his stomach hurt. So lots of Popsicle and water and cool rags on pressure points to help.

No rashes, snotty nose, diarrhea, chest congestion/cough, sore throat, no pain anywhere...just a high fever.

Friday, February 8, 2013

Time to get real

Alright I am just going to say it. Someone needs to say it.

Nabisco, you are wasting time/money with your resealable Oreo cookie packages. Just stop pretending that you're supplying cookie crack to consumers with will power and who have good portion control skills. Seriously, you have no idea who your consumers are do you?

Also you can save ink, by fixing this: Serving size 3 cookies, Servings per container about 12.

It should read: ....waah?! gone already? I should've gotten 2 bags!

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

( o )( o )

I have been asked twice now, why did I choose to go ahead with the biopsy after I canceled it originally.

The main reason is this.

The potential  diagnosis of cancer was threatening my family. NOTHING threatens my family and goes unchallenged/ un-addressed.

Bottom line: I am integral in the safety/well being of my family and they need me. Period.

It took a bit to get all of me on board and in agreement, so that I would not panic about the money and cancel it again. The prospect of adding 2000+ to the medical debt was very, very nauseating.

I don't have insurance. That biopsy bill is 2-3 months worth of pay checks.

I was blessed by two people who have gifted me with money.

You, my blog readers, own them a thank you too. Now you don't have to read a whiny blog post about me being stressed over money. (maybe...)

The day after the biopsy the kids had a routine dental appointment.  They had no cavities!! Yippee!! Me playing the brush/floss natzi is paying off. That appointment ran 419$ And I feel no guilt or any other such nonsense in taking care of the kids.

So why do I feel so bad for taking care of me? I couldn't do the biopsy for me, but I could do it for them.

Is this my past again influencing my present day reality? (oh hell yes) Maybe.

I will have to deal with this uncomfortable feeling of wasting money on me. Right now the hours at work are okay, so the bills will get paid and we are not struggling. For that I am grateful.

And that forever suicidal part of my soul, that had hoped for a different biopsy result....she can shut the hell up. We are living on and enjoying our family. No easy outs. No sitting on the bench, I am putting you in the game even with your shifting mental health.

I am really struggling with my head space right now. I am having severe hypothyroid symptoms that are just kicking my butt. I have an appt to see the FNP on the 12th to see if we can change this before I loose my freakin' mind get worse.

I think for now I will lapse into silence and or just feed you old cheese, until my mental status even's out.

Friday, February 1, 2013

Vault of pain

Work has me in an endless spin cycle that has me exhausted and so tired.

 Finally got the nerve up to do the biopsy on the two lumps in my boob. Oh yes I will post about that another day.

 LOL (like I needed another excuse to post pictures of my boobs on my blog! *snerk*)

Got the results back....Benign.  Lots of  thoughts to write and chew on, just no time.

Wondering if you all can handle another "lets gut P's psyche post"....or if I should just not even get into that whole story. Its one that I have never told anyone.

It starts with Betty Ford and her breast and how that single breast changed my life.

My head, right now, is off. I don't think its the usual winter depression type stuff. I believe its from the lowered thyroid dose I am on. I feel hypothyroid and when I dip into that area on my lab work I get a

When I am off, wow, can my mind barf up some powerfully horrific stuff. Combine that with what I am capable of doing with my writing, I can inflict bruises on your soul.

I don't want to inject my personal pain into anyone. I don't want to hurt anyone.

And....then there is the part of me that says WHY NOT? Why not share the darkness? I am not alone in having a vault of pain in my head. Maybe by sharing it it will help another find comfort and courage to face their own demons.

What do I get out of it?

A good cry, plus it helps me to take back my power.

What do you get out of it?

That I don't know. But you must get something, or else you wouldn't keep returning here right? or is it more along the lines of gawking at an accident? LOL.