Employee of the month

There are many things in this world that you should never turn your back on. The tide, bonfires, angry bulls and night shifts with ballot boxes.

Oh the wicked wicked fun we used to have on the night shift at HIHO. Heh...and someday when the statues of limitations has run out I will tell you all about it.

It was 7 people alone with 8 1/2 hours worth of time and only 5 of it needed to do the job.  We filled with rest of the time with various things to keep our selves awake.

We read, wrote, talked, did group therapy and  psych experiments on each other and got into mischief.

Once, I came up the hall from my lunch break to find the rest of the night shift stifling hyena type laughter, while scribbling furiously on little pieces of paper.

"what are you up to" I commented placing my jacket on my chair.

Terry looked up. "we're voting on employee of the month."

They all cackled like witches over the brew.

Liz glanced up and filled me in. "you saw the new employee of the month parking spot they are making out front?"

I nodded. Couldn't miss it. They were designating the prized closest spot to the building for the employee of the month.

"Well we thought it would be funny if the first person who could use it, didn't have a car!"

I laughed at the simple irony that would create.

"That is brilliant! Who are you stuffing the ballot box for?" I smiled reaching for my pen to help.

Liz glanced back up over her glasses, "You."

It took us all a good 10 minutes to stop laughing.

The entire night shift deserved and Oscar for there "wow! Paja won?!" surprised performance at the all staff in-service when they announced the winner that month.

It took all my concentration not to heeHAW out loud as I accepted the award because, in the wake of the applause as I approached the administrator, I head the bossy boots of the day shift comment "she doesn't even HAVE a car!!"

My little employee of the month plaque lived in the kitchen drawer out on the farm for years. It always provoked giggles when I would come across it and the memory would surface.

Many years later when I was legitimately honored as employee of the month at RG I couldn't even attend the presentation. There was just no way I could have done that without collapsing into a hysterical belly laughing heap on the floor....besides, it wasn't right for me to get that award...I had a car.

When is it okay to ask about someones scars?

For FIFTH time this summer I have been asked by a medical professional about my scars while in a vulnerable position.

*adds, 'blogging about when it IS appropriate to ask abuse survivors about their scars', to my list of things to do today.*

#justahintitsNOTwhenIdonthavepantson

This is going to sound a tad bit hostile, and that because I'm a bit stirred up about it. I will make nice in another post and do a polite one.

Then again maybe not.

This why I speak up about self injury! For the love of pete if I was not as well wrapped as I am this would have triggered the hell out of me!

Medical professionals: please listen.

CLOSELY

The number one most common denominator among self injurers is a history of sexual abuse!!

Self injury is about control. (I determine when and where I feel pain)

Self injury is deep pain speaking in blood. Pain so deep it can't be translated into words.

Self injures can be very self conscious of their scars. Going to a doctor and having them be revealed during an exam is a threatening, terrifying, nauseating, anxiety provoking thought. Terrifying enough to stop people from seeking medical help.

So when you ask someone who is 1/2 naked, laying on a table, while you are standing over them and or touching them YOU ARE VIOLATING ALL FOUR OF THE THINGS LISTED ABOVE!

YOU MAYBE THE FIRST PERSON TO EVER SEE THESE SCARS!!

What you need to do is take note of them and then AFTER they are dressed again and you are BOTH sitting at a even level, ask about them.

But NOT like this:

"So tell me about your scars."

Just because you have an MD after your name doesn't mean you get to have access to painful memories via a quick icepick lobotomy to satisfy your curiosity. Don't violate the person.

Ask gently.  "May I ask about your scars?"

If they say no, BACKTHEHELLOFF it's okay to follow up with, "This is a safe place if you ever want to talk about them."

Plant the seed of trust and openness, by just making yourself available.

Years ago the orthopedic doctor who repaired my pelvis did it SPOT ON:

Dr Namechangedforprivacy shut the door to my room and paused for second, then took a deep breath and come over and sat on the edge of my hospital bed. It was 4 hours after surgery and I was finally awake enough to talk to him.

"I saw your scars during surgery and I wanted to talk to you about them." He said quietly, gesturing to my abdomen. "can you tell me what happened?"

I took in a ragged breath and launched into the story.

He just wanted to make sure I was not in danger or in an abusive situation.

So I know it can be done!

DO IT!

Skipping stone

This story is for Butter.

Iye cant sweep...wets see if Dogdancing will tells me a bedtime storewee.

Dog?

She stirs and opens her dark sapphire eyes. "hello little one."

You has bin sweeping. Iye can't sweep. Wills you tells mes a bedtime story?

She smiles. "You wish to hear a forest story?"

oh yes!

"Very well, come, young one" she says opening her arms to invite her in.

When the wiggling has ceased, and the little one was all eyes, she begin.

"In the forest there are guardians like me. Made from jagged stones, crumbled rocks of uneven sizes, all crammed together and molded by a life time of pain. But did you know there are other rocks in the forest? Rocks found on the banks of the river, and the shores of the ponds.

Flat ones. Smooth ones. They are special ones, made for one purpose. They're skipping stones.

So special that people hunt a life time for the perfect one. Combing through the rocks for just the right one.

It has to fit just so in your hand....and feel right.

These rocks are shaped by movement, time, and knowing what is right. Much like guardians they too are not born, they are made.

Year after year they tumble and tussle with the seasons waiting for that special day someone comes searching for them.

When the time is right someone will come. They will slowly and carefully go along the shore and pick up rock after rock and hold them in there hand, each heart beat asking, ...is this the one?

Is this the one that is right for this purpose? To skip across the water? Will this one make it all the way across? Will it fly just so?

The goal to effortlessly soar over the water touching it  every so often only to set ripples in motion as it skips across.

Some make it across to clatterly rejoin their brethren on the other side. Others fold under the water and take their ripples to the bottom.

...and some...some have legs. They walk among us and fling themselves where they are needed. Sending out ripples that are far reaching. You can't find them easily. They must be hunted for and found.

And sometimes they find you.

You are blessed if a skipping stone flings themselves for you. Pay attention to the ripples they leave on your life."

Dogdancing closed her eyes and leaned back. "They are known to fling themselves at monsters to protect others."

Hows do day have the courage to do dat?

Dogdancing smiled as she hugged her tighter, "little one, it isn't courage that gives them the strength...Skipping stones have pure hearts."

How they det pure hearts?

Dog pulled the blanket up and tucked little one in. "I already told you.  movement, time, and knowing what is right."

surrender

okay life you win. Ima just gunna lie here and let you trample me into the dirt.

Since you have taken my legs, I just can't get up anymore.

Seriously, this fucking heat is killing me. I have had nose bleeds the last 4 days from having the AC going.

I hear people say "I'm at the end of my rope." and I have always wondered 'how did you luck out to be given a rope?'

all I have is a worn out 3 inch piece of frayed yarn that has multiple knots in it from being tied together. Its limp, damp and slips through my hands, there is nothing to hold onto.

P-doc wants to put me on an antidepressant.  We just had a disastrous 3 day attempt at trying Neurontin again.  It increased my appetite, made me fat and hostile.

but it took away my nerve pain.

You bastard, taunting me with pain relief, but turning my head into a monster.

I don't even have the guts to try an antidepressant again. fuck.

I can't risk anymore weight gain.

I am battling with my selves as it is. Humans can live 3 weeks without food...since I can't exercise, my mind is coming up with the only viable weight loss solution. Starve it off.

Its not like I am going to miss anything, since I can't taste anything anyway.

Crabby, can't sleep, headache, bloody nose...and the ever constant pain.

just....done today.

and maybe tomorrow too.