I prayed for you.
I missed you.
I thought about calling you.
But in the end, I didn't.
I thought about you tonight.
But that's where it ended.
Monday, September 14, 2020
Sunday, February 10, 2019
Being Poor Isn't a Character Flaw
An article to ponder on as you sit in your (presumably) warm house, surfing your interwebs, after you've had a good meal and a warm shower. Poor people can't just "pull themselves up by their bootstraps" without help and/or luck. Read on.
I grew up very poor. We had no central heat, only a small-ish propane heater in the kitchen/dining room. The pipes froze every single winter because we also had no underpinning (or tie-downs). We didn't have sewage or a septic tank (let that one percolate for a bit). We lived in a trailer that was 12 feet wide but at least we had a place to call home. We took a bath in the same water. If I was lucky, I got to take the second bath instead of the third.
It was the best my parents could do. Neither had even a high school diploma. My daddy was disabled and got less than $600 a month in Social Security. My mother made a pittance working her fingers to the bone at the glove mill--she left there after 20 years making $6.25 an hour and with no retirement. None at all. She got a whopping $600 a month in disability. Not enough to buy her medicine (she took a pill every other day so she'd have enough for the month) but too much to get food stamps for herself.
There was absolutely no opportunity for my parents to save any money. They did what they could but they weren't lucky and we didn't have anywhere to turn for help.
At 23 years old, I was separated from my husband, I had no car, and I had a toddler to support with no job. I got $200 in AFDC and $187 food stamps for my mother, my child, and myself for a short while (try figuring out how to make that work) but I didn't have a car to get there for my appointments so I got terminated from the rolls and finally booted off. I had to ask friends to take me to get milk. I eventually had to file bankruptcy, primarily because I had co-signed for a car but didn't get to keep it and that person let it get repossessed. When the sheriff served me with the papers, I went downtown and filed Chapter 7. I didn't have any choice.
In the end, I was one of the lucky ones. At least I had a mother with a place for me to stay. I lucked into applying at a temp agency at the right time and ended up getting a foot in the door at the place which has become my career. Things could have been much worse for us. I'm eternally grateful for the blessings in our lives.
Now, I'd love for some of you folks out there who think that poor people deserve to be poor to proselytize on how folks who are poor are supposed to fix their problems without help. I'd love for you to tell me what church or charity is going to take care of families like those in our situation. I can promise you, no man of the cloth came to help us nor did any of our relatives who were somewhat (or much) better positioned in life. Those of us who work in the community in this town know that the resources are few and the need is great, perhaps even moreso today than ever. Our safety net programs aren't perfect and they aren't without fraud but they are so needed to help raise folks out of poverty and give them a chance to share in the "good life."
No child in this country deserves to be hungry, cold, or without health care. Or to take the second or third bath.
https://slate.com/human-interest/2014/12/linda-tirado-on-the-realities-of-living-in-bootstrap-america-daily-annoyances-for-most-people-are-catastrophic-for-poor-people.html?fbclid=IwAR1jNqipVU_XbKdT0UEZZKukw7BXuuNKLknZ35ia3tv59t4suJRCEAmI89M
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
What Do You Do When Your Brain Turns Against You?
TRIGGER WARNING
For whatever reason, today has been a rough day for me. Rougher than usual. Today, in quiet moments, my mind kept whispering the same thing over and over. "I wish I were dead."
I've been depressed, quite literally, as long as I can remember. My mother always told me that I was "the most miserable child she ever saw." She told me that I was meant to be sad. I don't blame her for saying it, at least not now, because I know now that she was also severely, clinically depressed and was never treated. All she could see in her only child was the lifetime of poverty, misery, and woe that she had endured. And so the prophecy was foretold.
My doctor realized that I was depressed when I was about 25. I'd been treated, grudgingly and lackadaisically by a couple of doctors since I had reached adulthood. I never had a doctor take me seriously and actually try to treat me until I went to Dr. Childs. He recognized it for what it was....not a sad, poor, socially awkward fat girl (although I was all those things) but rather a severely depressed, non-functioning adult with a small person, husband, and mother who depended upon her. We tried medicine after medicine. Time after time. Trip after trip. I had almost full bottles of seemingly nearly every type of SSRI there was on the market back in the early-to-mid 90's. Prozac was ineffective. Zoloft gave me the tremors. Effexor was useless. Paxil helped for a while and leveled off. Wellbutrin made me want to kill every breathing creature. Slowly.
I'd get frustrated and just stop taking them. Cold turkey. Then I'd get severely depressed and start taking them again. We kept trying different dosages of different things and ended up with the most successful for most of the years--Paxil at 40 mg. I still only took it sporadically. Dr. Childs kept encouraging me to seek counseling but I couldn't see what good it would do. I decided I could deal with this on my own.
In case you don't know, SSRIs can markedly change a person. The Paxil stopped my mind from running like a rat on a wheel but it made me a faded-out version of myself. Terri Lynn cusses, pitches fits, throws things, sings out loud, laughs too loudly at things that are very inappropriate, and burps way too loudly. On Paxil, I just stopped. Tim said it was like looking a blank wall. He didn't understand what I was dealing with but he knew that he wasn't familar with the new version of me and he didn't like it. Because of his constant opposition, and because of my broken brain, I stopped taking the meds for years. I stopped living. I existed and not very well, at that. I had massive panic attacks. I couldn't walk in a restaurant alone. I could not drive on Broad Street (as random as it was, it was a thing). I stayed home more and more. I retreated more and more.
In 2011, I began to notice a difference in myself. I couldn't then, and I still can't today, pinpoint what happened or exactly when. But my brain began to change. I still don't know what happened. But I started sticking my toes in the ocean of life. I began to laugh more. I was becoming more interested in politics and found like minds on Facebook. I reveled in a good political argument n(perhaps a bit too much at times). I started going out more. I started making friends. I discovered that Rome is a pretty cool town with some really amazing people. But, through all that, I was not medicated and sliding deeper into depression. I guess, in hindsight, it could and should technically be called bi-polar behavior but without the very manic highs.
I started to self-injure. I started to seriously have suicidal thoughts regularly. Realizing that I had a real problem, I went back to Dr. C. and we tried Lexapro. I believe that he'd given up on me ever finding a medicine that would help. But Lexapro has been a lifesaver, quite literally. It doesn't magically "fix" me. I still feel suicidal. I get depressed so deeply at times that I can't function. My heart literally hurts from a pain that isn't physical and that no doctor can treat. My throat even aches with that same pain. My stomach, too. As Dr. C. often says, "It's the physical expression of your depression." That doesn't mean the pain isn't real. It just means that there is no bone, joint, or ligament that can be fixed or treated. The broken part of me is in my brain (and possibly in my soul but that's another discussion).
In the last couple of years, I've finally found a good therapist, I've taken my medicine a bit more appropriately although depression brain causes me to often forget or, worse, refuse to take it (It's not gonna help anyway. Why bother?). More than those things, however, I've found meditation. I've worked on my energy and my heart and my soul. I've opened my mind to another realm of healing and it has been nothing short of amazing. I'm a different person than I was even a year ago. I'm out and about and working in the community and sticking my nose in business that many would proclaim to be not my own. I'm an advocate and a helper.
But....in the quiet moments, when I'm alone, my broken brain begins to whisper....
What do you do when your brain is out to get you? What do you say when, sitting alone in your office, you notice that little thought, just under the surface. Like a whisper of wind, "I wish I were dead." Most of the time I just notice that little voice without giving it any attention. But today, I really put some thought into it. Why does your brain turn against you? And what the hell are you supposed to do when your BRAIN turns against you?! How can you possibly win that battle?
The answer is short and sweet. "I dunno." I also don't know why it's become important for me to "talk" about it. Perhaps the Universe knows there is someone out there who needs to see and hear this--to know that they aren't alone. Perhaps just by realizing that my thinking has gone beyond it's normal faulty thinking, I've made progress. For whatever it's worth, I keep pushing back against that voice. I meditate. I clear my energy. I still argue about politics (and most anything, depending upon who you ask). I still sing out loud and badly. I still laugh at inappropriate things. To borrow a phrase, I'm not going gently into that good night. I'm raging against the dying light.
But....still, in the quiet moments, the only voice I hear begs me to stop raging.
For whatever reason, today has been a rough day for me. Rougher than usual. Today, in quiet moments, my mind kept whispering the same thing over and over. "I wish I were dead."
I've been depressed, quite literally, as long as I can remember. My mother always told me that I was "the most miserable child she ever saw." She told me that I was meant to be sad. I don't blame her for saying it, at least not now, because I know now that she was also severely, clinically depressed and was never treated. All she could see in her only child was the lifetime of poverty, misery, and woe that she had endured. And so the prophecy was foretold.
My doctor realized that I was depressed when I was about 25. I'd been treated, grudgingly and lackadaisically by a couple of doctors since I had reached adulthood. I never had a doctor take me seriously and actually try to treat me until I went to Dr. Childs. He recognized it for what it was....not a sad, poor, socially awkward fat girl (although I was all those things) but rather a severely depressed, non-functioning adult with a small person, husband, and mother who depended upon her. We tried medicine after medicine. Time after time. Trip after trip. I had almost full bottles of seemingly nearly every type of SSRI there was on the market back in the early-to-mid 90's. Prozac was ineffective. Zoloft gave me the tremors. Effexor was useless. Paxil helped for a while and leveled off. Wellbutrin made me want to kill every breathing creature. Slowly.
I'd get frustrated and just stop taking them. Cold turkey. Then I'd get severely depressed and start taking them again. We kept trying different dosages of different things and ended up with the most successful for most of the years--Paxil at 40 mg. I still only took it sporadically. Dr. Childs kept encouraging me to seek counseling but I couldn't see what good it would do. I decided I could deal with this on my own.
In case you don't know, SSRIs can markedly change a person. The Paxil stopped my mind from running like a rat on a wheel but it made me a faded-out version of myself. Terri Lynn cusses, pitches fits, throws things, sings out loud, laughs too loudly at things that are very inappropriate, and burps way too loudly. On Paxil, I just stopped. Tim said it was like looking a blank wall. He didn't understand what I was dealing with but he knew that he wasn't familar with the new version of me and he didn't like it. Because of his constant opposition, and because of my broken brain, I stopped taking the meds for years. I stopped living. I existed and not very well, at that. I had massive panic attacks. I couldn't walk in a restaurant alone. I could not drive on Broad Street (as random as it was, it was a thing). I stayed home more and more. I retreated more and more.
In 2011, I began to notice a difference in myself. I couldn't then, and I still can't today, pinpoint what happened or exactly when. But my brain began to change. I still don't know what happened. But I started sticking my toes in the ocean of life. I began to laugh more. I was becoming more interested in politics and found like minds on Facebook. I reveled in a good political argument n(perhaps a bit too much at times). I started going out more. I started making friends. I discovered that Rome is a pretty cool town with some really amazing people. But, through all that, I was not medicated and sliding deeper into depression. I guess, in hindsight, it could and should technically be called bi-polar behavior but without the very manic highs.
I started to self-injure. I started to seriously have suicidal thoughts regularly. Realizing that I had a real problem, I went back to Dr. C. and we tried Lexapro. I believe that he'd given up on me ever finding a medicine that would help. But Lexapro has been a lifesaver, quite literally. It doesn't magically "fix" me. I still feel suicidal. I get depressed so deeply at times that I can't function. My heart literally hurts from a pain that isn't physical and that no doctor can treat. My throat even aches with that same pain. My stomach, too. As Dr. C. often says, "It's the physical expression of your depression." That doesn't mean the pain isn't real. It just means that there is no bone, joint, or ligament that can be fixed or treated. The broken part of me is in my brain (and possibly in my soul but that's another discussion).
In the last couple of years, I've finally found a good therapist, I've taken my medicine a bit more appropriately although depression brain causes me to often forget or, worse, refuse to take it (It's not gonna help anyway. Why bother?). More than those things, however, I've found meditation. I've worked on my energy and my heart and my soul. I've opened my mind to another realm of healing and it has been nothing short of amazing. I'm a different person than I was even a year ago. I'm out and about and working in the community and sticking my nose in business that many would proclaim to be not my own. I'm an advocate and a helper.
But....in the quiet moments, when I'm alone, my broken brain begins to whisper....
What do you do when your brain is out to get you? What do you say when, sitting alone in your office, you notice that little thought, just under the surface. Like a whisper of wind, "I wish I were dead." Most of the time I just notice that little voice without giving it any attention. But today, I really put some thought into it. Why does your brain turn against you? And what the hell are you supposed to do when your BRAIN turns against you?! How can you possibly win that battle?
The answer is short and sweet. "I dunno." I also don't know why it's become important for me to "talk" about it. Perhaps the Universe knows there is someone out there who needs to see and hear this--to know that they aren't alone. Perhaps just by realizing that my thinking has gone beyond it's normal faulty thinking, I've made progress. For whatever it's worth, I keep pushing back against that voice. I meditate. I clear my energy. I still argue about politics (and most anything, depending upon who you ask). I still sing out loud and badly. I still laugh at inappropriate things. To borrow a phrase, I'm not going gently into that good night. I'm raging against the dying light.
But....still, in the quiet moments, the only voice I hear begs me to stop raging.
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
The Time to Speak is NOW
Make no mistake, friends. On Saturday, August 12th, this country experienced a terrorist attack in Charlottesville, Virginia. I don’t know that because the President of the United States of America said it. Indeed, no, he hasn’t said it AT ALL. He did not come out immediately in condemnation of the attack but rather spread the blame. He did make a statement condemning the white supremacists later but then rolled it back AFTER David Duke, the grand poo-bah of the white sheets, got his white sheet in a knot and called him out on pandering to the left. When questioned about his equivocations, he began to dither on about how many jobs he has created (BS) and how much better the stock market is now than ever before (more BS).
A white supremacist DROVE HIS CAR into (here I’ll quote Indivisible directly because it can’t be said much better) “counter-protesters who had gathered in response to a white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia. It was an act of domestic terror, perpetrated by a white supremacist. One person is dead as a result of the attack.”
That attack was criticized across the board. His own VP, daughter, and wife spoke out on the horror that took place in Charlottesville before the President of the greatest country in the free world did. When the one black member of his cabinet resigned, he went on a Twitter tirade slamming the man. He showed his true colors when this weekend, just in case there are a few of you who were still on the fence, wondering about his allegiances and alliances. Let me, again, quote from Indivisible for a moment.
“Donald Trump has encouraged violence, racism, and xenophobia from day one. It’s not surprising that Donald Trump refused to condemn the attack as an act of domestic terrorism. Throughout his candidacy, and through his actions as president, Trump has actively used fear to divide communities, encouraged violence against those who would disagree with him, and has advanced racist and xenophobic policies. Here are just a few examples:
*Picked Jeff Sessions to lead the Department of Justice, a man with a decades-long track record of advancing racist, anti-immigrant, and discriminatory policies (edited to add, now he says “we’ll see” about Bannon);
*Hired racists and nativists like Stephen Miller and Steve Bannon to advise him on policy matters;
*Issued a Muslim and refugee ban as one of his first actions as president;
*Unleashed ICE officers across the country who continue to terrorize immigrant communities with near impunity;
*Insists on the construction of a useless and costly border wall and ramping up his mass deportation machine;
*Exploited the tragic death of Kate Steinle in order to go after sanctuary cities;
*Proposed focusing the Department of Homeland Security’s Countering Violent Extremism program exclusively on Islamic sources—ignoring the dangerous threat posed by white nationalist organizations;
*Actively weakened and undermined Civil Rights offices within the federal government, which are charged with enforcing civil rights protections for Americans; and
*Has publicly encouraged police brutality and the use of more aggressive methods by law enforcement officers.”
Sadly, this list is not all inclusive. As a matter of fact, if you still have any questions, I’d suggest you give a listen to Seth Myers' thoughts on whether the President is racist. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.
I am very disappointed in my friends and family who still support this man and hold him up as a good and honorable person, an example of American exceptionalism. He has shown, time after time, his real nature but the apologists and sycophants have made excuse after excuse for him. It’s OK for you guys to admit that you were wrong. Because you were. It’s OK for you to say, “Hey, Terri. I’m a fiscal conservative. I don’t support same-sex marriage or abortion rights. I believe in states’ rights. That’s why I’m a Republican.” Those are real issues and I can respect political differences. We may not agree but I can respect that. What I can no longer respect is your continued support of a man who has insulted women (bragged about grabbing them by the privates, calling them ugly, fat, bleeding from their eyes, etc.); Hispanics (they’re all rapists and thugs); Muslims (all terrorists, of course), and, in fact, almost every group of people you can think of. His response this weekend should not have been a surprise to anyone who has been paying any attention at all.
Silence is no longer an option for truly good, honorable people. Call this man out for what he is: a menace. Stick to your conservative values but STOP defending the indefensible.
The time to speak is NOW. Will Republicans continue to hitch their wagons to this falling, corrupt, and irrevocably broken star? Will Republicans have the mettle to call this man out for his behavior. America, and the world, is watching you.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
The Zen in Letting Go
When I had my cards read earlier this week, one of the things I got from it was to let go of all the things that I'm holding onto. All the old stories, old scripts, old hurts. That sounds like an easy thing but it's really a process. I'm working on making peace with the past.
I love this story from Psychology Today. Why are we still carrying that weight from the past?
"There is a classic Zen story of letting go that is told in many different versions. One of my favorites appears in a book for young readers by Jon J. Muth called Zen Shorts.
Two traveling monks reached a town where there was a young woman waiting to step out of her sedan chair. The rains had made deep puddles and she couldn’t step across without spoiling her silken robes. She stood there, looking very cross and impatient. She was scolding her attendants. They had nowhere to place the packages they held for her, so they couldn’t help her across the puddle.
The younger monk noticed the woman, said nothing, and walked by. The older monk quickly picked her up and put her on his back, transported her across the water, and put her down on the other side. She didn’t thank the older monk, she just shoved him out of the way and departed.
As they continued on their way, the young monk was brooding and preoccupied. After several hours, unable to hold his silence, he spoke out. “That woman back there was very selfish and rude, but you picked her up on your back and carried her! Then she didn’t even thank you!
“I set the woman down hours ago,” the older monk replied. “Why are you still carrying her?”"
Saturday, September 10, 2016
Georgia's kids deserve REAL OPPORTUNITY!
Have you really looked at the so-called "Opportunity School District" (OSD) amendment that will be on the ballot in November? If not, please take some time to research the implications.
Fact: OSD contains an option to withhold three percent of the school's administrative funds, resulting in fewer funds for instruction costs.
Facts: The OSD:
- supercedes all contracts with schools.
- the OSD superintendent (chosen by the Governor) will have the authority to waive the policies of the Department of Education.
- will determine the achievement and growth of the state's schools AND
subjectively rate public schools (A, B, C, D, F). - can purchase services from anyone.
- will keep the schools for a minimum of five years but can keep them for ten years.
- will be the sole judge and jury per the OSD schools' performance and data.
- may add 20 additional schools a year.
- will control all the schools' facilities.
- repeals all laws in conflict with this amendment.
- DOES NOT guarantee the return of the schools to the public district.
Facts: The OSD may:
- close the school and create another unknown market for any type of school;
- fire every employee in an OSD school without recourse;
- take over the school as a state charter school with a dual governance system; and/or
- take over the school as a state charter school and hire a for-profit management company to run it with no local board input--except to pay for the OSD schools. (This happened in New Orleans, Los Angeles, and Detroit.)
OSD will provide no new
resources to help struggling students and schools. Nothing in this
proposed amendment addresses improvements in education. Years of
"teaching to the tests" have negatively impacted teachers ability to
effectively TEACH students. Ask your friends who are teachers about
their ideas for improving the education process--trust the people you
elect to guide the process. Trust those you know to be great teachers to inform the process, not an unknown quantity, appointed by the Governor (now and in the future).
The
amendment is worded in such a way that a voter who has little knowledge
of the background may be misled into thinking the amendment is a
positive idea. Do not be fooled by the flowery language: "Shall the Constitution of Georgia be amended to allow the state to intervene in chronically failing public schools in order to improve student performance?"
Vote NO on SR287 (Opportunity School District)!!
Monday, September 5, 2016
Does Suicide Mean Eternal Damnation?
Do you go to hell if you commit suicide?
I’ve
asked that question of many people, Christians and non-believers alike. As you can imagine, I’ve gotten different
answers. Surprisingly, I’ve been told by
more than one Christian that suicide is not an automatic “go straight to hell”
stamp. Some believe that if a depressed
or otherwise mentally ill person commits suicide, the person is not condemned to
hell simply because of that act. I’ve
been told that, if you have accepted Jesus into your heart as your Savior and
if you believe in your salvation, that is all it takes to “get into”
heaven. I’ve heard that Jesus died for
ALL our sins and that, if you interpret suicide to be a sin (thou shalt not
kill) then it is forgiven if you are saved.
Of course I’ve heard that you do indeed burn for eternity if you commit
suicide. It’s a violation of the
commandment and it’s contrary to taking care of your “temple.” It’s an unforgivable sin and it’s a ticket
straight to hell if you take your own life.
I’ve done a
bit of research on it and I haven’t come up with a definitive answer. First and foremost, I have a lot of trouble with a loving God sending one of His children to hell to suffer eternally for simply endeavoring to END suffering (assuming depression or sickness). I've made the comment to a few people that it seems supremely unfair to be depressed (or sick) and suffering in life and to have no "out." It seems that if you suffer through hell on earth, you ought to get some credit for that, especially in the circumstance where you've been struggling for years. In my case, I've been mired in a sticky swamp of depression for almost all of my life. I don't know what it's like to be "normal" or "happy." I've had seriously suicidal moments in my life. The one time I made a half-hearted attempt, I had a sense of peace about it. I felt as if surely God would understand that I was suffering and that all I wanted was eternal peace. Of course, it wasn't a successful attempt and now, after time has passed, I'm not so sure of that peace. It seems a huge gamble to take when you just don't know.
In my reading, this answer struck me as
pretty sensical:
"Q: Is it true that if
you’re a born-again Christian and you commit suicide, you won’t go to hell
because God has already given you salvation?
A:
Life is lived at three levels: the spirit, the soul, and the body.
Understand that when we accept Jesus, it is our spirit that is actually born
again. Jesus gives us a brand-new spirit. He doesn’t give us a brand-new soul
or body. We need to change our thinking by believing the Scriptures and
adapting our thinking to line up with the Bible.
The Bible talks about the renewing of your mind in Romans 12. This is where depression and suicidal thoughts enter in, through the mind and the emotions. If your spirit is born again, according to John 3 and Ezekiel 36, it is your spirit that will spend eternity with God. You cannot damage your spirit by committing sin; you cannot damage your spirit by committing suicide. Because depression and suicidal thoughts come from the soul realm, if someone does commit suicide and Jesus Christ is that person’s true Savior, then I believe he or she will go to heaven. It’s also my belief that if someone is truly saved and truly born again, that person is not going to want to commit suicide. If you are born again and you still have suicidal thoughts, then you need to go to the Bible and hope that God can change you. That’s the most important thing of all."
(http://changinglives.org/tabid/2623/Default.aspx?cat=Suicide)
The Bible talks about the renewing of your mind in Romans 12. This is where depression and suicidal thoughts enter in, through the mind and the emotions. If your spirit is born again, according to John 3 and Ezekiel 36, it is your spirit that will spend eternity with God. You cannot damage your spirit by committing sin; you cannot damage your spirit by committing suicide. Because depression and suicidal thoughts come from the soul realm, if someone does commit suicide and Jesus Christ is that person’s true Savior, then I believe he or she will go to heaven. It’s also my belief that if someone is truly saved and truly born again, that person is not going to want to commit suicide. If you are born again and you still have suicidal thoughts, then you need to go to the Bible and hope that God can change you. That’s the most important thing of all."
(http://changinglives.org/tabid/2623/Default.aspx?cat=Suicide)
Here are a
few other links with (mostly) contrary opinions. I'd be interested in hearing feedback from others, whichever you believe. But no chastising, please. No bullying or browbeating. Just opinions, please.
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