It's times like these, that I really can't stand myself. If I had the means to, I'd punch myself square in the face until I passed out, because I can't stand to be around people like me and I HATE being like THIS.
I read something and immediately turn that into a, "Why don't they like me" or basically a pity party for myself. I constantly measure myself against others and I turn into this needy... UGH! I can't stand it!
Seriously. I wonder if I'm ever going to be NORMAL and stop being a blubbering idiot that wears her heart on her sleeve. I wish I could be tougher and not some sniveling weenie.. which is what I feel like. I feel weak, undeserving and foolish.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
Concrete Angel... can we rise above?
When you least expect it, some not-so-pleasant thoughts come rushing back.
A few days ago something happened at the school where I work. One of the male teachers has a very difficult class this year. I personally feel it's a combination of having too many behavioral problems in his class and his lack of classroom management.. but I guess that's beside the point.
I was walking between buildings when I saw two students huddled on the sidewalk with a stick. I called out to them and asked what they were doing. They had a small snake there and was poking it with a stick. Now if you're thinking what I was thinking, "It's a harmless garter (?) snake".. well, it wasn't.
It was a baby, but it was trying it's damndest to take a bite out of one of those kids.
So, I took the stick from one of the boys and told them to get Mr. XXXXX. I figured maybe he could find a five gallon bucket and place it over the snake because this just happened to be in a place where kindergarten students walked through.
I'm standing there with this mean and quite mad snake, holding a stick and keeping my distance just in case any more students wandered along... and suddenly the doors burst open and about 6 students rushed out.
They all rushed toward me like they were on a mission.. all babbling, "Where's the snake.. let's see it!" I held up my left arm and told them to back off, and get back to class. That's when their teacher... Mr. NoClassroomManagement comes out and YELLS at them. Now, when I say YELLS, I don't mean just raised his voice.. I mean he yelled.
Something inside me just froze and I could feel myself lean forward and cover my head. It was so embarrassing... I had this pissed off snake trying to bite me, I'm weakly holding a stick and then I look like I just had a brain aneurysm because I'm 'ducking and covering' certain that I was about to have the shit knocked out of me.
Then I have students asking me, "What's wrong!?" and Mr. NCM starts yelling even more at them to leave me alone.... and I feel like I'm back at home and my dad is screaming at me right before he started swinging and hitting me upside the head. I started crying and didn't even realize it until the principal was summoned and found me outside bawling like a baby.
I haven't had a trigger for years, and then suddenly I was thrust back to a time where I was around 12 years old... it took me by surprise so much, that now I'm almost afraid that it will happen again.
See, I don't really want the people I work with to know about my past. I just feel as though it's embarrassing as hell. I tried to explain it to one co-worker a few years ago (when I worked for a bank) and she looked at me like I was telling her these things, just to gain some sympathy or some such crap.
I wish that people would just realize how hard it is to admit that your parent(s) are less than perfect and in fact, sometimes they are almost monster like. Even though I know now that none of the horrible stuff that happened to me or my siblings was MY fault.. it's still embarrassing and I guess a small piece of me still wonders if maybe I had done "x" just a little differently... maybe it wouldn't have set him off.
Why in the world would a person share such horrible things with another for only sympathy? Hell... I would have taken a better childhood in lieu of living with this shit any day! Much as I know anyone who's been through similar stuff would as well.
A few days ago something happened at the school where I work. One of the male teachers has a very difficult class this year. I personally feel it's a combination of having too many behavioral problems in his class and his lack of classroom management.. but I guess that's beside the point.
I was walking between buildings when I saw two students huddled on the sidewalk with a stick. I called out to them and asked what they were doing. They had a small snake there and was poking it with a stick. Now if you're thinking what I was thinking, "It's a harmless garter (?) snake".. well, it wasn't.
It was a baby, but it was trying it's damndest to take a bite out of one of those kids.
So, I took the stick from one of the boys and told them to get Mr. XXXXX. I figured maybe he could find a five gallon bucket and place it over the snake because this just happened to be in a place where kindergarten students walked through.
I'm standing there with this mean and quite mad snake, holding a stick and keeping my distance just in case any more students wandered along... and suddenly the doors burst open and about 6 students rushed out.
They all rushed toward me like they were on a mission.. all babbling, "Where's the snake.. let's see it!" I held up my left arm and told them to back off, and get back to class. That's when their teacher... Mr. NoClassroomManagement comes out and YELLS at them. Now, when I say YELLS, I don't mean just raised his voice.. I mean he yelled.
Something inside me just froze and I could feel myself lean forward and cover my head. It was so embarrassing... I had this pissed off snake trying to bite me, I'm weakly holding a stick and then I look like I just had a brain aneurysm because I'm 'ducking and covering' certain that I was about to have the shit knocked out of me.
Then I have students asking me, "What's wrong!?" and Mr. NCM starts yelling even more at them to leave me alone.... and I feel like I'm back at home and my dad is screaming at me right before he started swinging and hitting me upside the head. I started crying and didn't even realize it until the principal was summoned and found me outside bawling like a baby.
I haven't had a trigger for years, and then suddenly I was thrust back to a time where I was around 12 years old... it took me by surprise so much, that now I'm almost afraid that it will happen again.
See, I don't really want the people I work with to know about my past. I just feel as though it's embarrassing as hell. I tried to explain it to one co-worker a few years ago (when I worked for a bank) and she looked at me like I was telling her these things, just to gain some sympathy or some such crap.
I wish that people would just realize how hard it is to admit that your parent(s) are less than perfect and in fact, sometimes they are almost monster like. Even though I know now that none of the horrible stuff that happened to me or my siblings was MY fault.. it's still embarrassing and I guess a small piece of me still wonders if maybe I had done "x" just a little differently... maybe it wouldn't have set him off.
Why in the world would a person share such horrible things with another for only sympathy? Hell... I would have taken a better childhood in lieu of living with this shit any day! Much as I know anyone who's been through similar stuff would as well.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
Sticks and Stones
As an adult, it seems the most prevalent memories I have from my childhood are negative.
I'm not sure if that's because the majority of events that took place were negative or if it's because the negative makes a bigger impact on memory than good? I think I remember hearing years ago (I'll have to research it) that for every negative experience a child is subjected to, it takes 4 times as many positive experiences to compensate - to provide a balance, if you will.
I've spoken previously about the physical that's gone on and while that's an important part of the person I am today, the things that had the much bigger impact on me (and I'm sure on my siblings as well) was the verbal messages we received. Every day.
At least the physical violence didn't happen every single day.. but the verbal (dare I say) abuse happened daily.
I tried to explain to my husband years ago, when we sought marriage counseling, that just because he tells me that I'm smart, beautiful and a good person... I wouldn't automatically believe it - he had to show me.. which he never seemed capable or willing to do.
Adding up the negativity of years and years of being told:
This was and is, very hard for him to grasp. I'm not a person unworthy of being loved - or am I?
I've lived my entire life trying to "make" my parents be proud of me. Just to take back one of the things they used to say daily.
I had been working at a bank. A man came in to make a deposit to his account and I recognized him. He was a man that had worked with my dad for years. I spoke to him briefly and didn't say much more to him.
Fast forward a couple of weeks and this guy came back in and came right to my window. He told me he had mentioned to my dad that, "I ran into ********* at XYZ bank a couple of weeks ago." My dad told him, "Oh yeah... that was my first mistake."
I finished waiting on him and had to excuse myself. My supervisor looked at me and knew something was wrong.. she had said all the color drained from my face. I promptly locked myself in the bathroom... and cried.
Even in my adult life, I have sought to try and gain some kind of acceptance - especially from my father. In the process, I feel as though I don't really know myself. Which to me, is the worst thing of all of this.
I look into the mirror and have no idea of the core that makes up *me*.
The next time someone uses the children's saying:
Sticks and stones may break my bones --- but words will never hurt me.
Tell them how wrong they are.
It should be:
Sticks and stones may break my bones ---- and words will surely haunt me.
I'm not sure if that's because the majority of events that took place were negative or if it's because the negative makes a bigger impact on memory than good? I think I remember hearing years ago (I'll have to research it) that for every negative experience a child is subjected to, it takes 4 times as many positive experiences to compensate - to provide a balance, if you will.
I've spoken previously about the physical that's gone on and while that's an important part of the person I am today, the things that had the much bigger impact on me (and I'm sure on my siblings as well) was the verbal messages we received. Every day.
At least the physical violence didn't happen every single day.. but the verbal (dare I say) abuse happened daily.
I tried to explain to my husband years ago, when we sought marriage counseling, that just because he tells me that I'm smart, beautiful and a good person... I wouldn't automatically believe it - he had to show me.. which he never seemed capable or willing to do.
Adding up the negativity of years and years of being told:
- You're stupid!
- You'll never amount to anything!
- What am I raising.. a slut?!
- Whore!
- Dumbass! Jesus H. Christ you're stupid!
- You are so irresponsible and lazy!
- Pig!
- I can't believe how stupid you are!
- You know how much you embarrass me!?
- Once again, another disappointment from you....
- I wish you'd never been born...
This was and is, very hard for him to grasp. I'm not a person unworthy of being loved - or am I?
I've lived my entire life trying to "make" my parents be proud of me. Just to take back one of the things they used to say daily.
I had been working at a bank. A man came in to make a deposit to his account and I recognized him. He was a man that had worked with my dad for years. I spoke to him briefly and didn't say much more to him.
Fast forward a couple of weeks and this guy came back in and came right to my window. He told me he had mentioned to my dad that, "I ran into ********* at XYZ bank a couple of weeks ago." My dad told him, "Oh yeah... that was my first mistake."
I finished waiting on him and had to excuse myself. My supervisor looked at me and knew something was wrong.. she had said all the color drained from my face. I promptly locked myself in the bathroom... and cried.
Even in my adult life, I have sought to try and gain some kind of acceptance - especially from my father. In the process, I feel as though I don't really know myself. Which to me, is the worst thing of all of this.
I look into the mirror and have no idea of the core that makes up *me*.
The next time someone uses the children's saying:
Sticks and stones may break my bones --- but words will never hurt me.
Tell them how wrong they are.
It should be:
Sticks and stones may break my bones ---- and words will surely haunt me.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - Written By: Untreatable
PTSD is basically the nightmare that refuses to go away. A single event or a series event is always in the back of your brain waiting to attack. A trigger as small as a smell can send off a mini movie which is capable of tearing your soul apart. Flashbacks with so much power that they send you right back to the moment that the event took place. PTSD is a monster that can appear and take over at any time it please.
Flashbacks are the worst part of PTSD and a lot of people turn to illegal substances to keep these mini movies at bay. The soldiers of the Vietnam war did not come back to this side of the ocean because they enjoyed the high but they were trying to keep Vietnam in Vietnam.
You could be having an absolutely great day then you run into a trigger which suddenly sends you right back to one of the worst moments of your life and there is nothing that you can do to alter the movie that is running through your brain. I am thirty four years old, five foot nine and a shade under two hundred pounds but once a specific flashback hits I am quickly reduced to that of a very small child who is completely powerless over the situation. No warnings or indicators just the same nightmare that refuses to go away.
It is not all based off of physical events as a number of people with PTSD were never hurt at least not physically. An event from my life would be the simple event of going to sleep. I go through my bedtime routine and turn out my light then on days when I am not so fortunate my fathers voice rips through my brain "You are absolutely useless and I should do you a favor and kill you in your sleep" which snaps me wide awake. Needless to say I take a lot of medication at night that basically stops my brain from thinking and to keep the flashbacks at bay.
PTSD is treatable and the key to recovery like most mental illnesses is to catch it as early as possible. Therapy for PTSD is to help the person work through the event or events that the disorder stems from and to recognize and reduce the triggers to hopefully take some of the power back. The number of people with PTSD has exploded just like it always does after every military conflict and unfortunately the suicide rate is going to climb as well for a number of soldiers are going to realize the war has followed them home. Take care.
**This article was contributed by fellow blogger, Untreatable of Untreatable's Blog - Borderline Personality Self Harm Depression.
Please give his blog a visit as it contains a lot of useful information and insight.
Flashbacks are the worst part of PTSD and a lot of people turn to illegal substances to keep these mini movies at bay. The soldiers of the Vietnam war did not come back to this side of the ocean because they enjoyed the high but they were trying to keep Vietnam in Vietnam.
You could be having an absolutely great day then you run into a trigger which suddenly sends you right back to one of the worst moments of your life and there is nothing that you can do to alter the movie that is running through your brain. I am thirty four years old, five foot nine and a shade under two hundred pounds but once a specific flashback hits I am quickly reduced to that of a very small child who is completely powerless over the situation. No warnings or indicators just the same nightmare that refuses to go away.
It is not all based off of physical events as a number of people with PTSD were never hurt at least not physically. An event from my life would be the simple event of going to sleep. I go through my bedtime routine and turn out my light then on days when I am not so fortunate my fathers voice rips through my brain "You are absolutely useless and I should do you a favor and kill you in your sleep" which snaps me wide awake. Needless to say I take a lot of medication at night that basically stops my brain from thinking and to keep the flashbacks at bay.
PTSD is treatable and the key to recovery like most mental illnesses is to catch it as early as possible. Therapy for PTSD is to help the person work through the event or events that the disorder stems from and to recognize and reduce the triggers to hopefully take some of the power back. The number of people with PTSD has exploded just like it always does after every military conflict and unfortunately the suicide rate is going to climb as well for a number of soldiers are going to realize the war has followed them home. Take care.
**This article was contributed by fellow blogger, Untreatable of Untreatable's Blog - Borderline Personality Self Harm Depression.
Please give his blog a visit as it contains a lot of useful information and insight.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Guest Blogger - Untreatable
Hello everyone.
I have asked Untreatable, author of "Untreatable's Blog - Borderline Personality Self Harm Depression" to guest post here on Dirty Little Secret.
He has a wealth of information about mental health and all that it entails. I asked him to do this in the hopes that someone will read what he has to say, and will use that information to help themselves.
The biggest hurdle in getting help is being informed and learning all you can.
Untreatable is a wonderful person and I know you'll find the information he posts to be interesting and useful.
Thank you Untreatable, for accepting my invitation!
I have asked Untreatable, author of "Untreatable's Blog - Borderline Personality Self Harm Depression" to guest post here on Dirty Little Secret.
He has a wealth of information about mental health and all that it entails. I asked him to do this in the hopes that someone will read what he has to say, and will use that information to help themselves.
The biggest hurdle in getting help is being informed and learning all you can.
Untreatable is a wonderful person and I know you'll find the information he posts to be interesting and useful.
Thank you Untreatable, for accepting my invitation!
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