Monthly Archive for May, 2006

Who Am I? Legal Name Change: Part One of Three

Published on May 31, 2006 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD, Segments, Soapbox and Therapy. 4 Comments

What do you call yourself? Does your name fit who you are? Does it give you comfort when you hear it or does it bring back ugly memories? When you hear your name do you immediately answer or do you flinch? Do you flash back to the past then jump back to the present pretending that you never skipped a beat? I flashed back then pretended everything was okay. I flashed back every single time someone called me by my birth name. And every single time someone called me by that name it felt like they literally punched me in the face.

I was reading a journal by a woman that calls herself Cat. Cat recently wrote about why she goes by a different name than the one she was given at birth. It reminded me that long ago I said I’d write an entry about my legal name change. I never got around to it but I suppose I will now.

In the Bible people changed their name when major life events took place. A name had to do with who the person was at the moment. It had to do with what accomplishments they had or a prominent characteristic. People didn’t come by a name simply because it sounded nice. Names had meaning and when life changed for the good or the bad their personal name often reflected it. Names like Apple (a movie star named her child Apple) or Moon Zappa, Gunner and the like are pretty odd names but they seemed to be chosen for a reason. Perhaps it was to make the tabloids, I don’t know, but it seems even the most strange names are carefully chosen. We don’t pick our kids names out of a hat. We put a lot of thought into a first and middle name. We even assign certain characteristics to certain names. When you think of the name Katherine what comes to mind? When you think of the name Josh, or Candice, June or Mathew don’t different images come to mind? What about the name Robin, Andre, Damien, Candy, Willy, Bob? Try these two Clair and Kimmy. What did you see when I wrote those names? We assign characteristics with certain names and even if they are not accurate we still have those thoughts in the back of our head. Our experiences and personal relationships tell us “what kind of person” each of these names represents. Hopefully life experience tells us that we need to give individuals a chance to show us who they really are.

Who am I, really? My mind goes blank when I ponder that question. My hands left the keyboard, my head tilted down and my mind saw nothing but black because who I am is a hard thing to think about. I connect who I am with what I’ve been through. What I went through was nothing short of hell.

Continue reading ‘Who Am I? Legal Name Change: Part One of Three’

Legal Name Change: Part 2of3: What Will I Be Called

Published on May 31, 2006 in For the Record, PTSD, Segments, Soapbox, Therapy and Therapy Assignments. 1 Comment

Before I go into what I wanted to change my name to I need to address the reaction of some when I decided to change my name.

It seems that some people are of the opinion that you should keep the name you were given because it’s who we are and we can never escape who we are. I was told that being able to accept the birth name would be my final step in healing as if there was some divinely passed down decree that the birth name meant emotional and spiritual connection to the universe. I heard this left and right from “professionals.” They were telling me who I should be but they were also telling me to let go of the past. It didn’t make any sense.

I also dreaded the smirks and snide remarks of family members when they found out I’d abandoned their name game for one of my own choosing. I’d be humored in their presence and jeered behind my back. I knew I would be, and this ate at me terribly. If they picked fun at me for having a crush on a boy and other no-no’s of theirs, they sure would pick fun at me for venturing out and grabbing hold of other expressions of individuality. I don’t like to be laughed at or mocked. I don’t like to be called a fool and I knew I’d hear it, at least from my mother. Even still the name change was not to piss them off or to make them happy, it was to help me heal. Once I was okay with that I got very serious about choosing a name.

I had to choose something that was encouraging. I had to choose something that was significant to who I felt I was. It had to be something that represented who I wanted to grow to be. When I finally came up with a first and middle name I was sitting in Dallas, Texas in a hospital for survivors of trauma (Dr. Collin Ross’ program.) since I couldn’t come up with a good last name I decided that I’d just go ahead and take Austin because after all I was sitting right there in Texas. The first two names were given much thought but the last name had more to do with location than anything else. But I remember that day vividly. I remember saying my entire name out loud and smiling inside but the biggest smile was when a fellow patient called out to me by the new name. It fit. A feeling of warmth swept over me and I knew I’d found the right name.

Because I’m a skeptic I had to prove to myself that I could go by this name and not change my mind about it. I went by the name in private circles, with friends and what not. I did this for 7 years, which the number of years were of no significance. It just ended up being 7 years before I changed it legally. On February 6th of 2001 I was legally the person I presented for the last 7 years. I had hoped to have the name change on the 2nd of February to symbolize the date of my leaving home and taking my freedom but the change didn’t come through as planned. It was close enough though.

When I finally had the piece of paper telling me I was free to be the person I wanted to be I began calling creditors and the like. It was easy to change my name with people that usually want blood to verify your identity. Even when supplied with legal papers it was like pulling teeth to get the most simple of accounts to recognize my new name. Sometimes people wanted a long drawn out explanation about why a person would change their name. Sometimes they went into how they didn’t even realize an adult was able to change his/her name. I asked what they thought was happening with newly converted Islamic people did? Many answered; I thought it was a nickname. Are you serious? My name is John Doe but everyone calls me Ali. What??? No, they change it legally just as I did. When I explained it that way most were satisfied but some were not and I had to press to them that an explanation was not required only legal paper work. After about 6 months of arguing back and forth I finally had everything changed over into my new name.

That seems kind of simply doesn’t it? I went through the proper channels. I put my foot down when needed and got my name changed on all my accounts. It seems things would go smoothly from there and I could go on with my healing process. STOP! I had to come to grips with the fact that I was leaving behind a person I use to know. There was a period of grieving that I didn’t expect. I did not expect to grieve the loss of the birth name. I did not expect to be doubled over in tears at the loss of that name. I think it was because I realized with that name gone so was any chance of me ever being the daughter born to my mother. I was giving up her way of life by walking out her door in Feb of ’92 and I was totally leaving her behind by changing my name. I abandoned all my chances of ever getting in good with her by changing my birth name. It hurt and man did I grieve.

 

 

Legal Name Change Part 1 of 3 Who Am I?
Legal Name Change Part 2 of 3 What Will I Be Called?
Legal Name Change Part 3 of 3 Karma

**As of March 31st, 2007 all comments to this entry have been closed. This is now an archived post. Feel free to drop me a line at the guest book link found on the sidebar**

 

 

 

Legal Name Change: Part 3 of 3: Karma

Published on May 31, 2006 in For the Record, Soapbox and Therapy. 5 Comments

Though I was homeless on and off through out my childhood I was rarely alone on the street. I was often cared for by an older homeless man. This man made sure that I was safe. He watched over me as I slept and kept his distance so that I knew I was even safe from him. On the coldest nights he wouldn’t hold me because he insisted that the physical boundary stood for safety. Many times people went by a different name on the street than the name they were given but he told me his real name, first and last. Charles lost his job and moved from Michigan to Indiana in hopes of finding a new job. he was under-educated and unable to keep a roof over his head. He ended up living on the street. He and I spent a lot of time together over the years, mostly in silence. We slept under a patch of bushes in the downtown area. He slept first and I watched over him then I slept as he watched. He’d wake me up for school and I’d get up and catch the city bus. When I got back “home” to the circle at the bushes there Charles and his yellow kitten Butter sat, waiting for me. he use to hold a sign up saying that if the state could afford to bring in the lottery they could afford to house the homeless. Charles and I made about $5 a day pan handling. He made nothing if I wasn’t sitting beside him. it took a young face for people to give. When people did give they threw it at us. They never even looked us in the eye, they just wadded up a few dollar bills and tossed it as us and kept on going. The good thing about getting that $5 was that it meant I could go to school and we could get those quarter hamburgers every Wednesday at McDonald’s. Back then McDonald’s had a quarter hamburger day. We loved Wednesday’s.

As I grew older he and I parted ways. I graduated from high school and moved away. I didn’t hear from him again though I thought about him often.

In 2001 I found myself back in the downtown area around the same homeless shelters I avoided as a child. I was a minor and if I went to those shelters I’d end up in juvenile hall as a run away or worse get sent back home. In the new apartment I was a hop skip and a jump from a shelter I actually stayed in. I walked by it just about everyday. One day I was driving by and saw a very dark skinned man that looked familiar. I told my friend to stop the car. I jumped out and ran up to this very unattractive, skinny short black man and introduced myself with my new name. He looked up at me with tired eyes and I knew he didn’t remember me. I remembered him though. He was the man that watched over me when I was 6 years old living on the street. It was Charles. He had a home, he was clean and healthy but he was tired looking. Back then he was in his 60’s which put him in his 90’s around 2001. I realized he was suffering from dementia but I felt indebted to him so it didn’t bother me that he didn’t remember me. But he himself had a face you could not forget.

I kept going by to visit and to help him out around his house until he died. He didn’t remember me at all and I never told him that I changed my name. I also never told him that when I changed my name it was only after looking at my ID that I realized my last name matched his. Charles Austin. When I first realized it I gasped then I burst into tears. It was almost like it was meant to be. He looked out for me when I needed it and I was blessed to be able to return the favor.

Every name means something. It represents something good or something bad but rarely are names just empty proper nouns assigned to us on a whim. When we assign a name to ourselves that name means even more. For me, it meant a new beginning. It meant that it was okay to leave behind the pattern that had been set for 6 generations. My new name meant freedom and I was overdue for some of that.

I do not, for one second, regret changing my name legally. I do not for one second regret the hard times I went through when I was shocked by the grief following the name change. I waited to do this to make sure I chose the right name. I’m convinced that I chose the right name because when I hear someone call me I do not shy away. I do not cower. I do not feel punched or immediately thought of as “a bad girl.” I don’t feel there is a horrible history attached to me simply because of the name I go by. That weight alone off my shoulders is huge. All that came with that birth name wasn’t gone but what was gone was having it shoved in my face every time I heard it. It let me hear the voice of healthy people instead of flashing back to old, unsafe times then coming back as if I hadn’t left for just a second. Changing my name was the healthiest thing I’ve ever done. Cutting myself off completely from that family was the second healthiest thing I’ve ever done.

So this is who I am now. It’s a name I chose to represent then, now and the future. It was my choice to change my name and where I came from there were few if any choices. Choices are one of the benefits of adulthood. I was blessed when I took advantage of and act on the legal right to change my name.


Segment links
Legal Name Change Part 1 of 3 Who Am I?
Legal Name Change Part 2 of 3 What Will I Be Called?
Legal Name Change Part 3 of 3 Karma

Childhood history entries:
Therapy Assignment-Turning Her Voice Down
Flawless
Re-Write History (September’s End)
These entries show how hard it is to think differently than how I was taught to think and feel

Technorati Tag

 

**As of March 31st, 2007 all comments to this entry have been closed. This is now an archived post. Feel free to drop me a line at the guest book link found on the sidebar**

My Reply to The Godfather

Published on May 31, 2006 in Soapbox. 1 Comment

Hi there Godfather. My comments are between yours.

TheGodfather Says: May 31st, 2006 at 12:24 pm

Without a doubt there are a lot of factors involved but i think that one may be the perception of women being the passive and men being the active part in a sexual relationship which also contributes to child molesting.

Austin says:
This is true but unfair to the men who have suffered abuse. One thing that I’ve been on a soapbox about is how differently people react to females that sexually abuse their children. Society makes excuses for them. They are given a psychiatric diagnosis to explain their crimes but when it comes to men they have only one name for such a crime: man. People don’t even flinch when they hear that a man has abused a child or hurt another person. But they flinch and start saying, “what has happened to the world” when they hear of a woman sexually offending a child, especially her own child. It is not that I don’t believe in Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy its that I believe it’s another way to make excuses for the behavior of women offenders. If we were talking strictly about male perps studies of this disorder would not have nearly the backing it does.

When we see women offenders in a whole different category from male offenders we just about give the go ahead for them to continue offending. Look at the famous teacher who raped that young boy. She was sent home on probation. She was given chance after chance after chance. Why, because she is a woman. Each chance she was given she offended again. The court made it possible for her to offend again because they viewed her as a woman and not what she was, a child predator. No one would have thought twice about sending her to jail if she had a penis between her legs.

Godfather says: But it’s also the Patriarchy in a way. You often hear from anti-faminists the gender stereotype of the loving kind-hearted woman making up a dichotomy between the genders that doesn’t exist. The role of the bad guy is attributed to the males (females only if they act not according to the rules of the patriarchy).

Austin says: This is a conversation I've had with a friend of mine over in big foot country. Men are seen as either the villain or the savior while women are seen as the calm, loving peacemakers. Our main conversation last time was that when we see pictures or status of angels they are usually white women with blond hair and deep blue eyes. If they are warrior angels they are depicted as white males. I told her that the Bible doesn’t give the angels a gender in most cases but in society we give the warrior angels the male gender and the female angles the peacemaking attributes.

It is ingrained in our society that men are one way and women are another. We can see it in religion, in the work place, on TV, in books and in most every part of life. One of the troubles with this is that men who suffer the same as females end up being seen as weak or the crime isn’t seen in the same light as it would if he were female. These extremes let too much slip by. They let too much slip by and they facilitate predators who can hide behind what they carry between their legs.

Godfather says: Though there were female supervisors of concentration camps also who weren’t short of their male colleagues concerning brutality and sadism.

Austin says:
I had no idea that there were female supervisors in the camps. Actually, I’ve always thought of the Nazi’s as men. As a matter of fact, all the documentaries I’ve seen show only male war criminals being hunted down. In my entire life I’ve never heard of female’s being part of that genocide. Might I ask where I can find more info on this cause I'd sure as heck like to read it? The Holocaust is something that my family doesn’t speak much about as they have connections to the camps. I’ve said a few times in this journal that my heritage is African and German. The German’s in my family went to the camps because of their religion. Being blond didn’t save them from that.

When are you gonna write some more in your journal dude? :0)

Austin

To Catch A Predator: Dateline NBC

Published on May 31, 2006 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD, Soapbox and Therapy. 4 Comments Tags: , , .

I’ve watched the show. I think it’s great that they would put their mugs on TV and catch them in the act. There was seemingly no way for them to get away with what they’d done and no way for them to talk their way out of it. The key word is “seemingly.”

There was a guy that they caught twice, once at the child’s house and then at McDonald’s. His behavior was typical of a child molester. He bitched up really quickly when confronted by an adult about what he was doing. At first I wondered why they let the men go but maybe they didn’t realize they could detain them. After the first show they started arresting them right on the spot. It’s true that men from all walks of life, all colours and sizes showed up to the house. A man even brought his little son to the home of the child he intended to molest. What kind of crap is that? This show does a lot of good in that it catches predators but even their efforts are sometimes thwarted by unjust laws that protect offenders.

There is a lot of focus on male offenders. Usually people are disgusted at male offenders. They’re ready to throw the book at them but they turn around and joke about female offenders. The other night on Jay Leno he made 2 jokes about pedophiles. The first joke was about a female teacher found in bed with not one but 2 of her students. He said it was the result of over crowding in the schools. He said, “Whatever happened to one on one tutoring.” The crowd groaned but they also laughed. In the same show he talked about one of the men who plead guilty on Dateline. He said that the man didn’t get the sentence he should have gotten because he was too short to go to prison. See, our justice system says this man is too short to go to prison because he’ll be “victimized.” Jay said they should give him some shoe lifts and send him up state. Why did he feel differently about the male offender than he did the female offender? TV personalities also do a lot to damage public opinion concerning sexual offenses. I wonder if he realized that in the same show he thought lightly of the boys that were molested but was angered by the girls that were molested. I wonder if he even thought twice about the message he was sending.

He Knows How To Be QuietI thought more than twice about it. These women are let go to offend again. They’re let go to ruin some little boy’s life. They’re looked at as less dangerous because they are female but truthfully, they’re adding to the number of potential criminals by molesting these boys. There is little help out there for male survivors. The support network for them is less than that for women by a gross percentage but the percentage rate for male survivors to become violent criminals or sex offenders themselves is high also. Does the law understand that they are letting female offenders go so that they can help increase the number of criminals on the street? When you don’t view women as equal predators you give them a free pass to ravage the lives of innocent people. There is nothing funny about that.

More Calls For Death Penalty in Child Rape Cases
(John) Couey, You’re A Dead Man
Is Death Too Harsh For Sex Offenders?

Art by: F. Magdalene

See also: Declaration of the Rights of the Child

To Catch A Predator: Dateline NBC -Wednesday, May 31, 2006-1:36 AM

Before You Leave Me

Published on May 30, 2006 in For the Record, Mental Health and Relationships. 0 Comments

Lord, abandonment issues, people leave or I do. I often leave before they can leave me because leaving is better than getting left.

I use to consider myself the best hit and run friend a person could have. I’m what they need for a moment but before they get a chance to figure out the “real” me I’m gone. I make my impact and leave before they figure out that I’m more broken than they realized anyone could ever be. But for a moment I’ll make you laugh, offer support and give beyond what others usually give. Inside I’m thinking, goodness, they’re going to find out I’m a fake. They’ll be as disappointed as they are inspired or supported or whatever they feel. Leaving before they find out I’m a fake is much easier than facing them with that horrible look of disappointment on their face. That’s when I get to hear myself say again, “Austin, you’ve fuck up yet another relationship.”

I either get attached to people too quickly or I don’t attach to them at all. There isn’t much of a balance there. It’s usually one way or the other. For friends that stay I ask myself, what does so-in-so want from me? Why does he/she stay around? I expect them to out of the blue expose their real purpose. I guess it shows how little I trust people.

Sg trusts everyone and takes everything as truth. I don’t think this is naive, I think it’s stupid and potentially deadly. The converse is true as well, not trusting can be deadly. If you trust no one then there is no one to run to when things get bad. I’m too busy thinking that so-in-so doesn’t really care about me and that they just want something from me. So I don’t call when I need help or I don’t let on that I need this or that. That leaves me out in the cold with just me and sometimes I hate me.

I worried so much about loosing Sg. I worried about her dying like her friend Raleigh did. Even though she had a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon we stayed up pretty late. I set the alarm clock to wake her up but she was up and gone much earlier than I expected. When I finally got my butt up and into the shower the usually relaxation was interrupted by thoughts of her getting into an accident and never coming home. I threw the idea out of my mind and finished enjoying my shower. But when I got out there was a message on the phone. That little green light was blinking. I froze, dreading what message was on the phone. The caller ID said it was from a local hospital. Surprisingly a flash of anger struck me. It was like, damn it Sg. I knew it! I knew it! But then it was like, yeah, you did know so why are you so upset? You knew! It turns out that from her doc appointment they had her got to the ER because there was a problem with her sodium levels and her potassium levels. They were dangerously out of whack. So right now she’s at the ER while I’m sitting here thinking about myself! Selfish!

I could offer her some advice. I could tell her that she’s taking too much medication. I could tell her that people that don’t have a fatal disease usually don’t take literally 15 different medications daily. I could tell her that the side effects of some of the meds are really screwing with her head, clouding it and making her spacey. I could tell her these things again, like many others have done, but she needs those pills to feel cared for. Everyone else has left her, too. She doesn’t feel like she has many friends. She feels she’s wasted her life going from relationship to relationship. She feels like a failure and she feels stupid, empty headed, less desirable than when she was totally fit and could do pushups on her knuckles. She told me she has Bipolar Disorder and Fibromyalgia but I’ve never known anyone to need 15 meds to live with those 2 disorders. Sometimes she takes so much medication that it makes her toxic and she has to go IP to get her body to come back from that shock. When I got the call from her saying she was at the ER about her blood work I was irritated because I remembered that last night she was talking about needing to go on yet another med. She’s not on addictive pain medication she’s on psych meds but her pdoc is known for his overmedicating and free script writing. So when she comes home she will have yet another script to combat the current problem and then we’ll deal with this all over again.

First I thought I was going to lose her and that pissed me off. Now I’m pissed because she won’t listen to anyone and like me she looks to other things for comfort and care instead of accepting what is offered to her without tricks and strings. We may be alike in this area but most often we are the total opposite. She is totally open and trusting, I’m mostly closed and distant, untrusting and suspicious. She dresses down, wears her hair to cover her face, keeps her head down and walks through life passively. I dressed to not look like a woman. I dress to make a statement, “don’t fuck with me.” I walk with my head up and I refuse to just be stepped all over then offer forgiveness so they can do it again. The thing we have in common the most is the need to be needed. I think that’s why we’ve been friends so long, I think that’s the only reason we’ve been friends so long.

How did everything become about me in the last few days?

Before You Leave Me – Tuesday, May 30, 2006- 4:57 PM

**Comments have been closed. This is now an archived post. Feel free to drop me a line at the guest book link found on the sidebar**

Good Morning Emotional Evening

Published on May 30, 2006 in For the Record and Mental Health. 0 Comments

Good Morning Emotional Evening – Tuesday, May 30, 2006 – 2:29 AM

We blew the morning over coffee and crackers. We just sat for two hours drinking coffee and talking. Later we came in the office and looked at a few site, Oprah and some others. Sg decided to check her voicemail as we looked at some information about Dan “the Rose man”. She got quiet, hung up the phone and then looked up at me with huge tears in her eyes and said, “Raleigh died.” I said, “What?” she repeated it. I hardly knew him but she knew him well. I struggled to feel anything at all. As a matter of fact I intellectualized the whole thing. He was a liver transplant patient on meds that kept his body from rejecting the transplant. He hadn’t been doing well for about 3 weeks. When I heard this come out of my mouth I realized that I’d left out the emotional side of it. I left out the part about what a good musician he was. I left out that he had a good sense of humor, that he was kind and giving. So instead of talking I listened. Then I realized she needed a shoulder so we moved to the loveseat and she just cried her eyes out. At this point I still felt nothing. I hope she couldn’t feel that nothingness. I held onto her tightly and told her how sorry I was that she lost him but man I knew I was talking without feeling. … So I stopped talking and just listened.

Later we went back to her house and got together some roses to put on his door as a vigil. It wasn’t until we were back at her house that I started to feel panic and anxiety. When I walked into her house I had this strong urge, a need for her to give me something, anything so that I could take it home with me. I didn’t really care what it was; it could have been small or large as long as it was hers. I just felt like I needed something of hers. The last time I felt this way was when my therapist K left. I felt like I needed to take something (be given something) from her office just so that I didn’t lose her totally. I’d been feeling that way for awhile when my time with that therapist wound down. That feeling ended and didn’t surface again until today.

I’ve come to know that when there is a strong urgent sense to my thinking that there is some emotional reason behind it. I took some deep breaths and gathered myself. I realized that when a person dies, even if you were not close to them, the whole issue of mortality comes up. I worried about loosing Sg. I worried about her dying. After I kind of processed that out I was okay but for a bit there I was almost in a total panic. I wanted anything at all to take home with me. I wanted to take a part of her that couldn’t die, that couldn’t get sick and die. After that realization I returned to numb. I tried to make today about her and what she needed but I struggled to feel anything at all. I noticed I was talking about things that could wait. On the day she found out that he died there I was talking to her about stuff that could wait. I caught myself and again I stopped talking and returned to the void emotional state I was stuck in just before the panic.

We ended our evening again at the dining room table over crackers and dilled havarti cheese but this time we didn’t laughing or enjoy good conversation. It was quiet, emotional, solemn and for her, tearful.

Joan of Arc