It’s weird that I’d journal about my mother’s death. She’s not the one who is dead. It’s a male family member that died and I’m not certain how I feel about it. I’ve known about this for only an hour so this is my raw response. My concern is that someone will want to call the mother to give condolences. That is not a good idea. So I have to think of it this way, she forfeited all rights to support the day she decided to torture me. The day she decided it wasn’t possible to lay a gentle hand on me all daughter expectations were shredded and burned. when she moved from beatings to out right physical torture she forfeited it all. how could she possibly believe that some day when I got older I’d be there for her? It is my hope that I can maintain this level of anger so that I do not pick up the phone and make that call. Calling wouldn’t be to say, hey, sorry you lost a loved one. It would be to hear her voice and set up and insider for disappointment because that little cub still longs and hopes that something has changed. but damn she’d call me by that name and it would just be over!!!!!
Monthly Archive for August, 2006
Page 5 of 8
Relaxation: Stress is a g-force Part 1 of 3 -Sunday, August 13, 2006-9:19 PM EST
You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know that anxiety is like a g-force, the more you have the more damage to your body. Well, I’ve figured out a way to maximize my relaxation time and shed off some of those “g-forces” so that when other “g-forces” come along I’m a bit recharged and better able to handle the pull. (G-forces can dramatically raise and lower your blood pressure.)
Setting aside quiet time for myself each day has been a struggle but I’m doing better at managing it. I only need 30 min of silence to ground or center myself but most of the time I struggle to get 10 min of silence. It must seem strange that someone with no children, no husband or other family obligations, no job and no vehicle would struggle to find some down time. It’s not that simple. I struggle to keep up with things because the reality is, I have inside children (toddlers, teens and older teens) and a whole inside family that come and go. Even though we share a physical body we do not always share needs and wants. And like anyone, they have up and down days, babble on about things or need to talk things out, journal, play and basically live. So it’s like living with several roommates who never leave for work or play. We’re all together every single minute of the day. Alone time isn’t something a multiple gets, not really.
Another reason relaxation time is hard to manage is the amount of time it takes to do household chores for us. My laundry load is tremendous because if I switch to a person who doesn’t want to wear what the other person was wearing then they toss it on the floor for it to be walked on. If I’m gone for two hours a day that’s two outfits a day that are now on the floor and being used as a bed for the kitties and for Cappy. Oh how Cappy sheds! I don’t like fur shirts so they have to washed. I did figure out that I can toss it in the dryer and let the dryer pull off the hair. But if it stinks or is dirty in any way then it has to be washed.
The reason they change outfits has to do with what makes them feel safe. Maureen (23 or 24 yrs old) needs long sleeves that cover her hands. The pants don’t really matter to her as long as they aren’t shorts. She doesn’t throw her stuff on the floor though. She’s quite the tidy one. If Robert (19 years old) comes out he’s going to dress in a grunge type style which was in style when the body was that age. He has to have his baggy blue jeans or some sort of baggy utility pants, is pocket knife, his wallet with the chain and a baseball cap. His pockets are usually filled with “stuff” like what parents find in their teens’ pants when they wash them. It is not any different when it comes to stuff like that. If Morton comes out I know right away because the dress clothes are out. And no, Morton (age 35) doesn’t do a lot of cleaning up after himself. He says it’s not his job, that’s too funny. Anyway … so if you add the care of all in Morton’s Pride (please don’t ask how many) with the physical body’s limitations (Lupus, Fybro, aged bones, etc.) and then factor in money management, psych appointments, medical appointments, friends and everyday life stressors one can easily see that it’s hard to eek out time to relax.
I personally believe my neighbor UK is wonder woman. She has a husband, two kids, two jobs and still manages to cook every evening, keep that house spotless, the yard mowed, the laundry done and entertainment for the kids all while trying to handle her own Lupus, Fybro and abuse issues. The woman is remarkable. I can’t say it enough. All of it is killing her though, I can’t say that enough either. If there ever was a story for someone to tell about a parental hero, it would be this girl. If ever there was a story to tell about a person who just doesn’t stop, it would be about this girl. I applaud and sympathize with those who do all she does. There is a strong moral sense that should be noted as well as the sense of dedication to her family and friends.
How does a person keep going while handling all of that? If a person doesn’t stop at some point … well, they will stop. It’ll be the last stop though and it’ll be premature. A person has to realize that their premature death or hospitalization will leave what they’ve worked so hard on undone. If a person has no choice but to live life this way then please find a moment to recharge because if you don’t who is going to be around to care for the kids? Who will be around to care for the 3 dogs and 3 cats, a turtle, an aquarium and a hamster? Nobody takes care of that but my friend UK. I know there are others living life this way. I also know they’ve heard that without some sort of self care they won’t be able to keep going. No one can drive a car at 80 mph for hours on end, for miles upon miles on one tank of gas. The car (your body) will sputter and cough, jerk a few times then slowly come to a stand still.
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UK said to me, yes I need to do this but where would I find the time? It is easier for me to say “you must find the time” than it is for her to actually find the time. But there has to be a way to take 5 min for personal time. If there is a way to keep on top of a mountain of responsibilities there must certainly be a way to take five minutes to refuel. I do not intend to imply that if UK dies of working so hard that it’s her fault because she didn’t find the 5 min a day to relax. I do not intend to imply any person that works that hard while neglecting their needs is at fault if they fall ill or die. This entry isn’t about blame; it’s about physical and mental maintenance. What I’m saying is, if a person is stuck living with extremes then perhaps suggesting ways to recharge would be more helpful than simply being a listening ear for as they multitask. Suggesting down time for someone with so much on their shoulders is simply saying, “Let’s stop for gas.” There is no blame involved in suggesting that we stop for gas, there’s no lack of sympathy, understanding or compassion to suggest ways to help a friend. I know for myself that if I expect to keep driving this vehicle (this body) I’ve got to refuel so that I don’t do a premature slow roll with a final stand still.
Austin’s August
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Since it seems that I’ve had some serious stress come up I needed to step back and take a look at how I’m managing my stress level. I need to start writing this letter to my mother or sister and I’m going to need some ways to unwind. What I’m seeing is that when it comes to managing my anxiety ..I wasn’t and I became overwhelmed rather quickly because I hadn’t recharged from the first battle before going into the next. That’s not good. So I’m going to have to print off a list of things I can do to recharge or decelerate the pull. First off, I can’t neglect my morning stretches. They have proven helpful in slowing down my mind as well as preparing my body for the day. I’ve noticed that in the first 3 hours of waking I get more done than in the rest of my waking hours. I whip through this house like a tornado immediately after I wake. First its take Cap out then clean it up, feed the critters, clean the litter box, take meds then start doing things around the house one after the other. I can’t just up and start moving like that and expect to not hurt in the evenings.
I also thought that during my bath I could do leg stretches while sitting in my soapy little tub. I don’t dare stand up to stretch because I don’t want to break my head open. That is certainly not an anxiety reliever.Relaxing in the tub is a wonderful, wonderful thing. I’m big on ambiance for bath time but the place I lived before here only had a shower. For 5 years I took a shower and never once thought about ambiance. When I went to the store and saw nice shower gels all I could think about was I WANT A BATHTUB NOT JUST A SHOWER. So I left the gels and stuck to my everyday water, soap and scrubby showers. Thinking about it now, I could have enjoyed things like candles, incense, special lighting, soft music and those shower gels I left at the store. I could sit them on the sink counter or drag in a TV tray, but it never occurred to me to do it. I suppose we live and we learn.
Another thing I found that relieves anxiety is to open the curtains and see life. If the curtains stay closed then I’m shut in my own world and sometimes that world isn’t pleasant. Had I not gotten into the habit of opening my curtains I may have had fewer mornings when I watched the cardinals sitting on my fence line. Blossom says they’ll return ever year. I look forward to seeing them. I like watching the “domestic” wild life frolic in my yard. I like watching the guys at the golf course across the street play well or play terribly and blurt out obscenities only intelligible with foot stomping and forehead smacking. I open my curtains and see the rest of the world. Keeping them closed is like wearing a thick, black veil. It is hard to grasp the deep colours of life if you’re looking with filtered eyes.
I’ve also started sitting out on the porch for a few minutes alone. Cap doesn’t really like it but alone time in the open air is really soothing for me. I love to hear the cicadas at night. Sometimes it gets so loud that I wonder if every locust in the world decided to move to the trees in my yard. I intend to come back and read this post if things get hairy with the therapy assignment. I know a lot is going to surface. I need some sort of back up plan. There is so much in life that hurts but if I could just have a moment to gather my thoughts or not think at all it’s easier to find the strength to continue on my course. Only when I neglect self care do I seriously consider this life to be a waste of time. I have to stop and refuel, make a few pit stops and let the engine cool down so I can travel the miles I have left that lead me to a manageable recovery.
Ps. Thank you Fallen Angels for bringing up the need for support and a safety plan for this assignment. I actually do have one on the journal. Having everything in one spot (that spot being the web journal) leaves little room for misplacing notes to my-selves so I posted my safety plan in the journal awhile back. Thanks again
LimbicSusie said: Your posts on your mother have begun to sink into me. I’m realizing I have a lot of work to do there. I might write a letter as well. I need to draw bounderies with her sooner than later.
LimbicSusie, I agree we should set boundaries. I’ve got a heck of a lot to do as well. It is my hope that if you write the letter you’ll do so with a safety plan AND a therapist. Good luck to you.
Austin’s August
RELAXATION -I hold the keys- Monday, August 14th, 2006-2:44AM EST
Relaxation The Will To Fly-Sunday, August 13, 2006 11:29 PM EST
I wanted to learn more about g-forces and how acceleration and deceleration affect the human body. I did this with the intension of plugging in the word “stress”. I wanted to know more about g-forces/stress that I deal with on a daily basis because understanding them gives me a better idea of how to make them work to my benefit or decrease their potential for harm. Armed with that information I could take a look at my life and see what I am doing right and what needs to be improved upon. The sad thing is that I’m dead serious. This was the entire goal when thinking of g-forces. To keep from making this blog entry into an experiment or dissertation I’ll spare you the details of my findings.
From all that I read on the net the easiest for me to understand was at the ol faithful Wikipedia, an online free encyclopedia. I got an over view of how it all works then skipped down to the human factor. They had really good information which led me to other sites.
I also ran across a site called Having Fun Yet The site measured different levels of danger in “fun” activities. Concerning g-forces and airplanes Having Fun Yet? has this to say:
- In terms of pure adrenaline rush, few things compare with flying in a fighter jet at Mach 2. At a private Russian air base outside Moscow, you’ll prepare for the G-forces in a subsonic flight training jet. Then, accompanied by a professional pilot, you’ll take to the skies in a MiG 25, soaring up to 80,000 feet. You must be in decent shape and provide a letter of approval from a doctor. Flyboys (and flygirls) over 40 must supply the results of an electrocardiogram.
This says to me, I have to be fit to handle the stronger g-forces that life throws at me. I have to be in shape physically and mentally or I won’t get a doctor’s note (peace of mind and health) telling me I can jump on life’s wings and fly.
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Austin’s August
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My Reply to John W and Other Male Readers- Saturday, August 12, 2006-4:08 AM EST
John W says:
Hi Austin since i am a guy i cannot put myself in your shoes and have your perspective. i have heard the theory that women who chose the “bad” guys are doing so because the “bad” guys were the abusive ones long ago in the disguise of love. pretty Freudian, eh? wish i had some answers for you john w Comment August 11, 2006
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Austin says:
Hi John,
My entry wasn’t saying all guys are bad because they’re guys. I hope that didn’t come across in that entry. What I meant was I seem to choose idiots and seeing as how my radar is on the wrong frequency I think I’ll just turn it off. I do recognize the trouble with the frequency is my own and doesn’t belong to anyone, male or female. In this way I fully agree with the Freudian statement.
I would like to make sure you and other male readers know that not one single person in Morton’s Pride has a blanket idea of who men are. I don’t lump you all into one big pile and plaster a label on you. Many, many survivors have a hatred and major fear of men. I do not. I would say it is because their main abusers were male. Mine was female so I would trust a man before I could trust a woman…that’s why I always prefer a male therapist. In the entry I wrote, if you turn it around for guys the entry would read like this, “If I’m attracted to a woman she’s no good for me.” It just so happens that I have no luck with guys. If my luck was the same with girls the sentence would have read like the above.
About it being “pretty Freudian,” – I know for certain that people often choose a mate based on their relationship with their parents. I believe it’s the reason abuse is passed down; things like domestic violence and child abuse are often seen in the childhood home first. When a child watches their parents fight and hurt each other or the kids that lesson in “love” sticks with them. I’ve heard it time and again, I married my father. So, you are very right, there is a lot Freud would say about this. He had a lot to say about a lot. The man was a wacko for the most part. If only Freud could have gotten off those drugs before he died he would be a lot more credible when he spoke. Some things, okay, I can see it but most of it is ramblings on and chauvinism disguised at intellect. You ask me, the guy needed a good rehab center.
This is another say it like it is post that I’m known for. Freud was wacked! But no, really that entry was not a “men are no good” type thing. It was a, “I can’t choose ‘em so I’m lettin’ ‘em go,” type entry.
Joan
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When discussing the kiss from Blossom with a friend that friend offered up how she doesn’t just hand out kisses to any Tom, Dick or Harry. For her kissing is a very intimate thing; it’s not something she does with out strong emotions. She said it’s a very personal thing for her. I’ve heard people say that kissing is very personal and that they don’t just lock lips with anyone. I guess what’s on my mind is the act of withholding a part of oneself until a certain level of intimacy or standards have been met. I do this, not with kissing but with trust, specifically when trusting people with my real name. It is helpful to have a nickname because it means I can give people that name when they ask me for one. When meeting people for the first time I tell them everyone calls me Duckie. I sometimes get a chuckle but I just come back with, “My family has been calling me that since I was a baby. You know families.” Inquiry usually drops right there. The nickname comes in handy quite often. Duckie is spelled with an “ie” and not a “y”. I don’t remember the reasoning behind the change in spelling I just know there was one when I did it.
I really need to have a genuine respect for someone and a certain level of trust to tell them my legal name. I guess for me the name I hold means a lot. It means enough to me that I don’t just pass that “token” to anyone who asks for it? I’m sure that sounds odd, to withhold my name because it is too personal of a thing to just throw around carelessly. Is a name just a generic form of identification so that when someone is talking to us everyone else knows it’s not their turn to be griped at? Is it just a tag to make sure we don’t get mixed up with the next guy or is it something more personal than that?
When I was younger the mother use to say to me, “You’re an X you can do anything.” What does that mean? It means I come from a name, a name that is something to be proud of because with that name comes the ability to succeed. While I never believed I could do anything because I was a part of that family, I did come to understand that the main point. What separated me from others was the name X. Say my last name was Krupp, according to that family the name Krupp set me apart from others while giving me a sense of belonging with those who shared the name Krupp. This goes back to my theory that people don’t just choose a name out of a hat and then name their kid. It’s usually well thought out, has some significance to lineage or something close to the parent’s heart or belief system. A name starts off with a lot of thought and has “great things” attached to it so why is it so easy to pass out that right of passage to everyone who asks for it?
I know that some will not agree that a name is so important that it is only given to those you trust and not to strangers as some socially polite response. But I now believe the underlying message my family tried to get across to me, “The name Krupp sets me apart from others while giving me a sense of belonging….” A sense of belonging, a sense of pride and dignity were attached to those who bore the name Krupp. It’s strange how one phrase growing up would make such a difference in how I answer one simple question, “what is your name?”
Who do I belong to? What tight knit circle am I in? What pride and dignity do I hold because of that name? When I think of it in those terms the name I have now isn’t something I want to just offer up to anyone who asks. Those are very personal questions; they’re questions that only get an answer when I feel I can trust a person. It’s not that my legal name is something spectacular, it’s just something personal, and like kissing, I don’t just lock “names” with anyone.
When I changed my name from that “Krupp” horror did I also change the reason for being proud and the reason for holding my head up with dignity and respect? When I changed my name from that demoralizing “Krupp” did I change “who I identify with” or who is in my tight knit circle? You better believe it did! By changing my name (which was done with great thought) I also chose to abandon the belief systems they held. When changing my name I denounced them as a whole saying that they were wrong for what they did and the name “X” only signified a group of pedophiles and hate filled monsters.
The family said that having their name made me one of them, it made me special and that I could do anything I wanted to do. As an adult, not bearing that name means I’m not one of them and that I am set apart from all of what they did and all of what they have no remorse for doing. For me, the most precious thing I hold is my name. It is precious because it means freedom; it means separation from the X’s. It means I get to pick and choose instead of following like a sheep to the slaughter. I do not hand it out at every turn the same as D* doesn’t go up to every Tom, Dick and Harry to plant one on their lips. What these two examples have in common is comfort level, trust and connection. Before D* will kiss someone and before I will give a person my real name there has to be a connection. Those with whom I have no connection simply call me Duckie.
I think some of this has been on my mind since my birthday is coming up. I can not believe I’m going to be 35 years old. It seems like yesterday I was 8 years old standing on the porch looking out across the field watching that 4 o’clock train crawl slowly by. I did not ever expect to be alive to see even age 10 let alone 15 or 20. But soon I’ll be 35 years old and I’m quite sure I’m still alive. I may have been born August of 1971 but I didn’t start living until February of 1992. In a spiritual sense that makes me 14 years old. Life has just begun for me.
Austin
Trust and Reaching Out, Living – Saturday, August 12, 2006-1:53 AM EST
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