Dear Journal;
I have been thinking about what I wanted to write in Part 2 and I have so many thoughts running through my mind and I realized that is what OBS (and that is what I will be calling the Organic Brain Syndrome from now on.. who wants to type that all out all the time??!!!) is all about. A tangled web of confusion, a skein of yarn that was once so tightly wound, now knotted and strewn across the floor by two baby kittens perhaps getting into mischief.
Let's talk about sounds and how they affect me. From little on up.
When I was younger, I did okay. I was sheltered tremendously and went through many things no child should ever go through. But I found joy in the simple things of life that I would often escape to. That could be anything from my favorite doll Susie to Play-Doh, Crayola Crayons, Barbies, and a sandbox. I taught myself how to write cursive and would sit for hours on the floor in the TV room trying to make squiggly lines look like a letter. I was able to read and print write fluently by the age of four. I threw myself into books, reading a lot of Beverly Cleary when I was in 3rd grade on up. At 6 and 7, I was able to read The Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland and titles in that same category of escaping and ending up in another world. These were not the picture books, mind you, these were the novels I was reading. At 8 and on up, I was intrigued by the Little House Series by Laura Ingalls Wilder. I was fascinated by anything old, antique or times of the past. I was never interested in the things my generation was interested in. First of all, I didn't know what they were. When I went to school, I felt like the oddball out. It always appeared to me that people were buzzing past me, chattering like monkeys, laughing; oh the laughing.... it was the one sound that annoyed me more than anything. Sometimes they were laughing at me and other times they were laughing amongst themselves about jokes or what happened the night before when "Ronnie" put "Tina's" head in the toilet, or laughing just because they were happy or amused. It was a sound I wasn't used to at home. To this day, I have a problem with the sound of laughter.
With OBS, depending on what stage one is at, you can get what I call "sister symptoms". They seem to be like symptoms of other ailments, mental problems or diseases when actually it is the mind and body breaking down. ADD and bi-polar are classic examples of this. Although I seem to have ADD and bi-polar, AND in fact been evaluated for these issues, I do not have them. OBS mirrors the symptoms. So, in that regard, getting back to the laughing... it annoys me, distracts me and I do not feel the joy that most people feel when they laugh. For example, if I am watching TV and my husband hears or sees something funny and he laughs, I easily get distracted and "feel" as if I missed part of the show.
Other sounds also bother me. Growing up, my home was pretty quiet. You wouldn't think so with 3 boys and 1 girl at home. But you see, my Dad was very sick all his life. And so for the most part, the house was kept quiet. The only noises I remember were what I called "controlled noise". Everything, everyone and every event; daily or festivity wise had it's time and place. Mom would play organ music while cleaning, Dad would play his country music when he, and I stress HE felt up to listening to it. Us kids had headphones. When we didn't have headphones, the music needed to be down really low to where you almost couldn't hear it. The television would be on when Mom or Dad turned it on. We were not allowed to turn on the tv by ourselves or change the channel. During the day if I were home on a snow day or non-school day, I would be put in front of the television. That's one of the reasons why I don't watch television that much. Also, the noise of it distracts me from whatever I am doing. However, at night, I have to have the tv on to sleep. Maniacal isn't it??
Yeah, so let's talk about music.
Growing up, as I said, I basically had headphones. Then I was pretty much fine with music until the past year or so. During that time, something has changed in me. I have found myself becoming more irritable, testy, annoyed easily and feeling a loss of control. This is where OBS is beginning to really rear it's ugly head. And it has become more clear to me everyday that OBS is beginning to be on the winning side and I am on the losing side.
Music and I used to get along. When the kids would turn music on, it wouldn't bother me, except for country music for a long time. That bothered me because when Danny and I separated in 2000 and we were apart for nearly five years, he met someone else and went to a club and danced to country music. Now, I have never seen him line dance or dance with her... I never met her at all... thank God... (there would had been blood shed for certain, can't stand the bitch.) but, knowing about what happened and knowing that he shared that with her (we never listened to country music that much together, except for Reba McEntire) I had pictures in my mind of the two of them and I could not stand to hear country music. It took me years since he has come back in 2004 to begin listening to country music. My mind tends to travel and goes through a endless time machine or an endless movie of the pictures I have made of my life. It often interferes with my daily life, my marriage, my parenting and just being. It can throw me into fits of depression, anxiety, even sometimes joy, excitability... I never know where I am going to be on the map that day.
As I have said before, most of this type of thing has been coming up in the past year or so. If I am working in my office, and someone turns on the tv or music, I tense up, my head fills with anxiety and feels like something was injected into it and makes my head feel very hard inside, swollen, uncomfortable. I try to ignore it, because other people who live in this house have a right to live! But I can't concentrate. I begin to make a huffing or sighing noise, I dart nasty looks in the direction of the person who I feel is invading my space. I keep trying to concentrate on my work at the computer or my bills or whatever it is I am working on and I tend to go blank. I recognize that I am getting annoyed and sometimes even angry, and I start a thought process in my mind to try to repair my thinking. I begin to talk to myself in my head and say to myself "Come on Yvonne, it's their house too, they have a right to live." or "You can do this. Try to refocus. You're going to run your family away and then complain later." It is a constant battle.
But the strange thing I have noticed about sounds is that if I turn on the music or the tv, I'm good. It appears to me to be a control thing; but I am not totally sure. I so totally do not want to be controlling. I did that once for awhile and it didn't feel good, I lost my marriage for a long time and it didn't give me any feel good silly stickers at the end. I like everything quiet, peaceful and serene. When I am working on the computer or doing something that requires the least bit of concentration, I need silence. Or talk to me when I am done. But... then this leads me into a sense of loneliness, depression and insecurities. Either way I go, I am damned. Playing tug of war with my mind is not easy. It is frustrating and tiring... I become much more easily exhausted just by trying to think about these struggles I am having. And this.... this is only the tip of the iceberg. There is so much more I battle with everyday in my life with OBS. Come with me on my journey, as I continue to take you into my personal world bit by bit with my worst enemy; OBS.
(The washer buzzer just went off, that was a noise.... it made me feel upset and annoyed because I was working on this blog entry and it interrupted me. I stopped and glared over to the vicinity of the cellar door. Normal people would just shrug it off and continue with their work and get to the laundry when they got done. With me, I feel as if it needs my immediate attention, being demanding in it's own little evil way. My right brain, the part that still functions properly as I think it does says to myself "Yvonne, it's a washing machine, forget it. It doesn't care if you never get down there to switch it over to the dryer." But I feel like it's a responsibility I must fulfill now, right now, or it won't ever get done and the thought of something sitting and not getting done bugs the hell out of me.) Welcome to my world!
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Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Organic Brain Syndrome and Me
Dear Journal;
Some days are better than others. Today is one of those days when I think that life is worth living for another day. At least for today. We shall see what tomorrow brings. I have not written in goons ages and I have lost what I needed to write. I think part of it is the computer. You type it into the computer and voila! You have lost the personal touch of a handwritten journal. I must admit though, that my handwriting isn't as nice as it used to be, especially if I am writing in a journal and tend to write fast. So perhaps, this may be better for my descendants to be able to read. But still, nothing like something handwritten.
I really wish I could dump what all I have on my mind. But there is something holding me back, and I know part of it happens to be my mother. I was never allowed to keep a journal when I was young. Although teachers encouraged it since as far back as I can remember. Even Patty Duke on the Patty Duke show had a diary. But my mother always kept telling me after she would read what I wrote: "Never write anything you don't want anyone to read." No personal thoughts, views or feelings. No matter how angry I got or bad I felt, what frightened me; I was never allowed to write it and feel ok. I could write light and airy things, like about marshmallows and fairy tales, how perfect my mommy is and things like that, but never anything about what bothered me. Or who I first kissed, or my most intimate thoughts. God forbid if I said anything negative. And so to this day, I keep worrying about hurting people's feelings. In the past when I was young, I did attempt to keep journals (or back then, we called them diaries). They always were found by my mother, read by her and confiscated. She still has them. I did venture writing in them personal things and it was used against me, held against me and a few other things. She even has the books I wrote to my children, of the letters I wrote to them while I was carrying them; and refuses to give them to me, or allow me to see them.
I don't know if I want to publish my journal. I do have that opportunity to with the program I am using. Again, I think I would worry about whom I'm writing about and what can I say or should I say. I reckon I can choose which journal entry to publish. That may work.
I just wish that people understood Organic Brain Syndrome and what it does to someone. I keep telling people to look it up. But I can see that they have done that and still do not understand the changes in my body, mind and soul that this disease has caused. Simply put, it has caused havoc in my life, both externally and internally. It is a slow, sad demise into an eternity of hell it seems. To watch the building blocks that I built as a child to become a woman and who I am today slowly rot and disintegrate is so frightening. Especially upon the eve of my first grandchild arriving. Upon watching my daughter Anneliese; whom I wanted to raise so badly, become a mother.... and my daughter Danielle; who is becoming a young woman, nearly ready to be a wife herself. My son James, who doesn't even know me... and I only know him enough to know that he is my son, the one I never got the chance to raise... to see his first steps... has stepped into adulthood without me once again. My children and my husband have no idea how hard I struggle to make memory pictures in my mind and keep them there in fear of losing them. Even my mom, I make memory pictures with her. My brothers too. But mostly, my children and my beloved husband whom I love more than life itself. My children are the blood that runs through my veins and if that ever dries up, I would simply die. I have experience with this first hand. When I was in high school, about to graduate... my father one morning, did not remember me. He did not know me. He did not know my mother. I had to go to school that day that way. It frightened me terribly, I felt lost. Even though he was lost, I felt lost too. It was like the notes on the blackboard for the next day's quiz were erased and I had no idea what the answers would be. Little did I know, that less than 3 years later, I would be diagnosed with a brain disorder. I was told that I was born with it, the two nerves in the back of my head are twisted and not straight up and down as they should be. My mother was with me, when they told me that I had a birth defect. She immediately went into a rage and defended herself desperately as if she were on death row and that this was her last appeal. It was never about me. It was always about her. I did not and do not blame her for what happened to me, but I guess she assumed it was her fault as she had a child who had a severe birth defect. In 1997, when my baby girl was 2 years old, I was then diagnosed with the dreaded Organic Brain Syndrome. I was lost one day with Danielle and I had a MRI done. They told me about the OBS (Organic Brain Syndrome), and that it was the beginning of Alzheimer's. I have the dementia side of OBS. Gray matter is splattered on my brain as if there is gray paint splattered on a perfectly painted piece of art. Those areas of gray matter are dead brain cells. Some of them are just dying.
I have to go for now, to get my housework done and some other things. But I will try to write again and the next time I write, I will write about the effects that OBS has on me personally. It will not a pretty picture, but it must be said so that people can try to understand and maybe, just maybe, someone can help find a cure for it or to make another person with OBS feel better knowing that they are not alone.
Some days are better than others. Today is one of those days when I think that life is worth living for another day. At least for today. We shall see what tomorrow brings. I have not written in goons ages and I have lost what I needed to write. I think part of it is the computer. You type it into the computer and voila! You have lost the personal touch of a handwritten journal. I must admit though, that my handwriting isn't as nice as it used to be, especially if I am writing in a journal and tend to write fast. So perhaps, this may be better for my descendants to be able to read. But still, nothing like something handwritten.
I really wish I could dump what all I have on my mind. But there is something holding me back, and I know part of it happens to be my mother. I was never allowed to keep a journal when I was young. Although teachers encouraged it since as far back as I can remember. Even Patty Duke on the Patty Duke show had a diary. But my mother always kept telling me after she would read what I wrote: "Never write anything you don't want anyone to read." No personal thoughts, views or feelings. No matter how angry I got or bad I felt, what frightened me; I was never allowed to write it and feel ok. I could write light and airy things, like about marshmallows and fairy tales, how perfect my mommy is and things like that, but never anything about what bothered me. Or who I first kissed, or my most intimate thoughts. God forbid if I said anything negative. And so to this day, I keep worrying about hurting people's feelings. In the past when I was young, I did attempt to keep journals (or back then, we called them diaries). They always were found by my mother, read by her and confiscated. She still has them. I did venture writing in them personal things and it was used against me, held against me and a few other things. She even has the books I wrote to my children, of the letters I wrote to them while I was carrying them; and refuses to give them to me, or allow me to see them.
I don't know if I want to publish my journal. I do have that opportunity to with the program I am using. Again, I think I would worry about whom I'm writing about and what can I say or should I say. I reckon I can choose which journal entry to publish. That may work.
I just wish that people understood Organic Brain Syndrome and what it does to someone. I keep telling people to look it up. But I can see that they have done that and still do not understand the changes in my body, mind and soul that this disease has caused. Simply put, it has caused havoc in my life, both externally and internally. It is a slow, sad demise into an eternity of hell it seems. To watch the building blocks that I built as a child to become a woman and who I am today slowly rot and disintegrate is so frightening. Especially upon the eve of my first grandchild arriving. Upon watching my daughter Anneliese; whom I wanted to raise so badly, become a mother.... and my daughter Danielle; who is becoming a young woman, nearly ready to be a wife herself. My son James, who doesn't even know me... and I only know him enough to know that he is my son, the one I never got the chance to raise... to see his first steps... has stepped into adulthood without me once again. My children and my husband have no idea how hard I struggle to make memory pictures in my mind and keep them there in fear of losing them. Even my mom, I make memory pictures with her. My brothers too. But mostly, my children and my beloved husband whom I love more than life itself. My children are the blood that runs through my veins and if that ever dries up, I would simply die. I have experience with this first hand. When I was in high school, about to graduate... my father one morning, did not remember me. He did not know me. He did not know my mother. I had to go to school that day that way. It frightened me terribly, I felt lost. Even though he was lost, I felt lost too. It was like the notes on the blackboard for the next day's quiz were erased and I had no idea what the answers would be. Little did I know, that less than 3 years later, I would be diagnosed with a brain disorder. I was told that I was born with it, the two nerves in the back of my head are twisted and not straight up and down as they should be. My mother was with me, when they told me that I had a birth defect. She immediately went into a rage and defended herself desperately as if she were on death row and that this was her last appeal. It was never about me. It was always about her. I did not and do not blame her for what happened to me, but I guess she assumed it was her fault as she had a child who had a severe birth defect. In 1997, when my baby girl was 2 years old, I was then diagnosed with the dreaded Organic Brain Syndrome. I was lost one day with Danielle and I had a MRI done. They told me about the OBS (Organic Brain Syndrome), and that it was the beginning of Alzheimer's. I have the dementia side of OBS. Gray matter is splattered on my brain as if there is gray paint splattered on a perfectly painted piece of art. Those areas of gray matter are dead brain cells. Some of them are just dying.
I have to go for now, to get my housework done and some other things. But I will try to write again and the next time I write, I will write about the effects that OBS has on me personally. It will not a pretty picture, but it must be said so that people can try to understand and maybe, just maybe, someone can help find a cure for it or to make another person with OBS feel better knowing that they are not alone.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
A Mother's Thoughts
I have been told last night that there is no reason for tears. No need to cry. I have a message for everyone involved in the situations that I am facing. I am giving this message in the most respectful way I possibly can. Here is my message and hear it loud and clear.
Do not cottle me or treat me as a child. I am a grown woman. I am a Mother, a wife, a sister, an Auntie and my newest role in life that I grasped so endearingly is of Grandmother. Do not tell me I cannot cry or no need for tears when I see my children after I have not seen them for awhile. Do not tell me they are in a better place because of me and the so called instability in our home. Stability is the responsibility of each person in the home. Not just the parents. When a child becomes a teenager and an adult, they must carry that same responsibilty as the rest of us. What choices my children made when they were at home, were their own. If they did not get done what they needed to get done, it was their own doing; not ours. Money, stability.... words thrown at me. I believe that my children were in a stable home, especially you Danielle, because of who you are. You did not become who you are by yourself. I raised you. For you to be the well rounded, articulate, smart and respectable person you are was not just blessed on you by the Holy Father. Your father and I were given a gift by God, a seed if you will, and it was our job to cultivate this seed into a magnificent flower that will continue to blossom over time and will be unique, one never to be recreated. Even an artist cries over their masterpiece, a musician when they play their first piece with a full fledged orchestra sheds a tear or two, in pride of a job well done. We, as parents, are not allowed to show any emotion, to show we miss our children, by shedding tears, because we are bubbling idiots... we are immature people. What are we going to do when you reach college time and leave? We have been asked that... well, it is all said and good about that because it is different than how this all happened and quite frankly you know it.
Money... it's the root of all evil. My father always told me that and it is true in the most truest sense of the word. It destroys families and people. Sure, it's nice to be able to buy things and have a little money in your pocket... ( I honestly don't know what that feels like anymore) but money is nothing when you no longer respect or lost respect of your family. If I were rich, had a big mansion, fancy car and please a maid... definitely a maid (I need a maid), I would give it all up in an instance and here's why. I had two parents. One I loved so much and I lost him in death at a early age. And a Mother, who doesn't love me or want me. Who has abused me in so many imaginable ways and still continues to do so to fulfill her own insecurities. I could never regain my Father's life, but I would give everything I have, even now, for my Mother to tell me she is proud of me. That she loves me truly for who I am. Moving away, going to college, getting married, having kids... it doesn't matter; because no matter how old you kids get, you will always one day wish you could go home just one more time to that old, musky smelling, unstable, no money home. It's where the heart is, it's where there is unconditional love. For a parent to be treated as Danny and I have been in the past few weeks is unimaginable. It is a watermark for our future, our children already telling us how it is going to be, or how would you like to see us such and such... would you like that??? Oh, how so condescending to parents who raised their children to be spoken to like that. We know that our lives are bookmarked for nursing homes as soon as possible... it's obvious.
Do I want or expect my children to live with me the rest of my life. No. Simply put. Sure, I know you kids don't believe that, but that's ok. I am used to that too. The fact is, I am looking forward to renewing my marriage and moving on with my husband. It is the way you children left. All of you. Out of anger, frustration, what ever you want to call it. Then when you all leave, you say "I'm doing what's best for me." Well, that's groovy and all.. but it is not respectful of the ones who raised you. It is not taking into consideration how the other person feels. Yes, the cord was cut at birth, but you are MY children and you will always be my children no matter how old you get or how any of you act, right or wrong. A Mother's love and feelings do not stop simply because you become of age, or because you suddenly think you know more than us, or that someone else can provide better and give you a more stable home and in Anneliese's case... well... she's just way out of control and has lost my most deepest respect for her. Things will never be the same between me and her again. I will forgive because it will make me feel better and be able to move on, but I will not forget what she has done to me with her friends and boyfriend... I highly doubt if I will ever see her again in my natural life. But, I will always love her. One should never move on and leave in anger or upsetness. It is a bitter separation only satisfying the needs and wants of the children and the parents are being put aside to make things better between the child and parents. I have been told it's better for me and Danny. Who makes that assumption? Because that is what it is... an assumption. How does children of the tender ages of 17 to 22 think they know better for their parents? Hell, even their brains are not fully developed yet until they are 25 years old. (Which mostly accounts for Anneliese's misjudgments and stupidity in her life, the other part is by whom she was raised by)... just sayin'.
Oh, I know that Danny and I are rough around the edges. But you show me a perfect home and then we'll talk. Yes, I realize we lack the normality of what my children would prefer... but I don't care. I am who I am and that's all I am. Yes, I name my appliances... (Amos the dishwasher, Mary Catherine the front loading washing machine, Harry the dryer, Susie the mixer....) but it's fun. And life is supposed to be FUN. Yes, my husband's language and dry humor can get out of hand, no kidding... but it will bite him in the butt eventually and maybe he will quit... but it sure beats having a drunk coming home to beat me every night. He doesn't do that and he doesn't do drugs and NO ANNELIESE, he is NOT schizophrenic... sorry to burst your bubble. He has bipolar and quite frankly, not to many people don't have bipolar these days anyways. And with me and my OBS, I think differently than other people who are so called normal. We are in no way trying to say we are better than anyone else. All we are saying is that you are our children, we love you all. We would appreciate respect, not being talked down to like children or like we don't understand, and we would appreciate being able to be taken serious, be allowed to give advice on life and not looked down on, because believe it or not; Danny and I know what we are talking about. We are not backwards. We are twice your age and then some and lived more harsh things than you kids even really know.
So, bottom line, if you can't show us respect and you want to be adults, fine, then act like it completely. It is not respectful to move out, ignore your parents because you don't want to hear it or whatever, for days on end and have no contact for a length of time. It would be nice to hear from our kids more often than not, instead of us sitting here wondering what is going on, especially with a 17 year old who honestly wasn't legally able to leave, but we gave you our blessing after you leaving in anger so that in hopes it would divert the chances of making you stay here and cause much upheaval. What we got was going for a week to a summer and then who knows what. Trying to call and see what's going on, phone calls, texts not being returned until it is at your convenience. The other child only calls to threaten us when we provided everything for her and her son. Tell me how this is right, any of it. Tell me again how I am not to feel any emotions.... to not feel like we have failed. Because Danny and I agreed we have failed, because if we didn't, you wouldn't be with another family where I am told as of last night how you are thriving. Tell me how we are not to take that personally. Explain to your Father why we only have a small window in your world and only get a glimpse of how well you are doing by little reports given to us by you or the other family.
Provide your own things that we currently pay for you, show respect and gratitude for what we have done, appreciate us for who we are and stop trying to change us and tell us we need marriage counseling because we don't. Do not try to talk to us about marriage when you have your own relationships to deal with, mine lasted so far nineteen years. I remember having a conversation with one of my children just the other day; who seemed to think in order for me to get my SSI back I should divorce my husband as Social Security had suggested as one of the ways to earn my SSI back. What a horrible thing to say when in this day and age, marriage is not even respected anymore. Again, money is the root of the issue. There is no amount of money that could ever be offered to me, not even millions or trillions that could make me sacrifice the act of the holy state of matrimony that I took on 19 years ago with my husband. I would rather live under a bridge with that marriage license then have a divorce decree over my door. The act of divorce in that situation would be a sinful act against my children, giving them no sense of devotion, committment or responsibility. To denounce my vows for the sake of money is demeaning to my husband and children both, not to mention God and myself. To say that I could still live with him and not be married, I would not feel complete. I am proud to be Mrs. Daniel Johnson and don't any of you forget it. I expect my children to respect my marriage and realize that though everything we have been through, nothing can break that bond of marriage we have together.
Well, I think that is about it for now. I am strong, although I may not always show it, my marriage is strong, although it may not always look like it. I take pride in the fact that God gave me emotions, He made me human and to be able to feel and with out that, you are not able to feel what others feel. Compassion and respect does not exist in people who do not have emotion. As Jesus was hung on the cross that day, He cried... He cried to His Father..... and he was a grown man too. Think about it.
Do not cottle me or treat me as a child. I am a grown woman. I am a Mother, a wife, a sister, an Auntie and my newest role in life that I grasped so endearingly is of Grandmother. Do not tell me I cannot cry or no need for tears when I see my children after I have not seen them for awhile. Do not tell me they are in a better place because of me and the so called instability in our home. Stability is the responsibility of each person in the home. Not just the parents. When a child becomes a teenager and an adult, they must carry that same responsibilty as the rest of us. What choices my children made when they were at home, were their own. If they did not get done what they needed to get done, it was their own doing; not ours. Money, stability.... words thrown at me. I believe that my children were in a stable home, especially you Danielle, because of who you are. You did not become who you are by yourself. I raised you. For you to be the well rounded, articulate, smart and respectable person you are was not just blessed on you by the Holy Father. Your father and I were given a gift by God, a seed if you will, and it was our job to cultivate this seed into a magnificent flower that will continue to blossom over time and will be unique, one never to be recreated. Even an artist cries over their masterpiece, a musician when they play their first piece with a full fledged orchestra sheds a tear or two, in pride of a job well done. We, as parents, are not allowed to show any emotion, to show we miss our children, by shedding tears, because we are bubbling idiots... we are immature people. What are we going to do when you reach college time and leave? We have been asked that... well, it is all said and good about that because it is different than how this all happened and quite frankly you know it.
Money... it's the root of all evil. My father always told me that and it is true in the most truest sense of the word. It destroys families and people. Sure, it's nice to be able to buy things and have a little money in your pocket... ( I honestly don't know what that feels like anymore) but money is nothing when you no longer respect or lost respect of your family. If I were rich, had a big mansion, fancy car and please a maid... definitely a maid (I need a maid), I would give it all up in an instance and here's why. I had two parents. One I loved so much and I lost him in death at a early age. And a Mother, who doesn't love me or want me. Who has abused me in so many imaginable ways and still continues to do so to fulfill her own insecurities. I could never regain my Father's life, but I would give everything I have, even now, for my Mother to tell me she is proud of me. That she loves me truly for who I am. Moving away, going to college, getting married, having kids... it doesn't matter; because no matter how old you kids get, you will always one day wish you could go home just one more time to that old, musky smelling, unstable, no money home. It's where the heart is, it's where there is unconditional love. For a parent to be treated as Danny and I have been in the past few weeks is unimaginable. It is a watermark for our future, our children already telling us how it is going to be, or how would you like to see us such and such... would you like that??? Oh, how so condescending to parents who raised their children to be spoken to like that. We know that our lives are bookmarked for nursing homes as soon as possible... it's obvious.
Do I want or expect my children to live with me the rest of my life. No. Simply put. Sure, I know you kids don't believe that, but that's ok. I am used to that too. The fact is, I am looking forward to renewing my marriage and moving on with my husband. It is the way you children left. All of you. Out of anger, frustration, what ever you want to call it. Then when you all leave, you say "I'm doing what's best for me." Well, that's groovy and all.. but it is not respectful of the ones who raised you. It is not taking into consideration how the other person feels. Yes, the cord was cut at birth, but you are MY children and you will always be my children no matter how old you get or how any of you act, right or wrong. A Mother's love and feelings do not stop simply because you become of age, or because you suddenly think you know more than us, or that someone else can provide better and give you a more stable home and in Anneliese's case... well... she's just way out of control and has lost my most deepest respect for her. Things will never be the same between me and her again. I will forgive because it will make me feel better and be able to move on, but I will not forget what she has done to me with her friends and boyfriend... I highly doubt if I will ever see her again in my natural life. But, I will always love her. One should never move on and leave in anger or upsetness. It is a bitter separation only satisfying the needs and wants of the children and the parents are being put aside to make things better between the child and parents. I have been told it's better for me and Danny. Who makes that assumption? Because that is what it is... an assumption. How does children of the tender ages of 17 to 22 think they know better for their parents? Hell, even their brains are not fully developed yet until they are 25 years old. (Which mostly accounts for Anneliese's misjudgments and stupidity in her life, the other part is by whom she was raised by)... just sayin'.
Oh, I know that Danny and I are rough around the edges. But you show me a perfect home and then we'll talk. Yes, I realize we lack the normality of what my children would prefer... but I don't care. I am who I am and that's all I am. Yes, I name my appliances... (Amos the dishwasher, Mary Catherine the front loading washing machine, Harry the dryer, Susie the mixer....) but it's fun. And life is supposed to be FUN. Yes, my husband's language and dry humor can get out of hand, no kidding... but it will bite him in the butt eventually and maybe he will quit... but it sure beats having a drunk coming home to beat me every night. He doesn't do that and he doesn't do drugs and NO ANNELIESE, he is NOT schizophrenic... sorry to burst your bubble. He has bipolar and quite frankly, not to many people don't have bipolar these days anyways. And with me and my OBS, I think differently than other people who are so called normal. We are in no way trying to say we are better than anyone else. All we are saying is that you are our children, we love you all. We would appreciate respect, not being talked down to like children or like we don't understand, and we would appreciate being able to be taken serious, be allowed to give advice on life and not looked down on, because believe it or not; Danny and I know what we are talking about. We are not backwards. We are twice your age and then some and lived more harsh things than you kids even really know.
So, bottom line, if you can't show us respect and you want to be adults, fine, then act like it completely. It is not respectful to move out, ignore your parents because you don't want to hear it or whatever, for days on end and have no contact for a length of time. It would be nice to hear from our kids more often than not, instead of us sitting here wondering what is going on, especially with a 17 year old who honestly wasn't legally able to leave, but we gave you our blessing after you leaving in anger so that in hopes it would divert the chances of making you stay here and cause much upheaval. What we got was going for a week to a summer and then who knows what. Trying to call and see what's going on, phone calls, texts not being returned until it is at your convenience. The other child only calls to threaten us when we provided everything for her and her son. Tell me how this is right, any of it. Tell me again how I am not to feel any emotions.... to not feel like we have failed. Because Danny and I agreed we have failed, because if we didn't, you wouldn't be with another family where I am told as of last night how you are thriving. Tell me how we are not to take that personally. Explain to your Father why we only have a small window in your world and only get a glimpse of how well you are doing by little reports given to us by you or the other family.
Provide your own things that we currently pay for you, show respect and gratitude for what we have done, appreciate us for who we are and stop trying to change us and tell us we need marriage counseling because we don't. Do not try to talk to us about marriage when you have your own relationships to deal with, mine lasted so far nineteen years. I remember having a conversation with one of my children just the other day; who seemed to think in order for me to get my SSI back I should divorce my husband as Social Security had suggested as one of the ways to earn my SSI back. What a horrible thing to say when in this day and age, marriage is not even respected anymore. Again, money is the root of the issue. There is no amount of money that could ever be offered to me, not even millions or trillions that could make me sacrifice the act of the holy state of matrimony that I took on 19 years ago with my husband. I would rather live under a bridge with that marriage license then have a divorce decree over my door. The act of divorce in that situation would be a sinful act against my children, giving them no sense of devotion, committment or responsibility. To denounce my vows for the sake of money is demeaning to my husband and children both, not to mention God and myself. To say that I could still live with him and not be married, I would not feel complete. I am proud to be Mrs. Daniel Johnson and don't any of you forget it. I expect my children to respect my marriage and realize that though everything we have been through, nothing can break that bond of marriage we have together.
Well, I think that is about it for now. I am strong, although I may not always show it, my marriage is strong, although it may not always look like it. I take pride in the fact that God gave me emotions, He made me human and to be able to feel and with out that, you are not able to feel what others feel. Compassion and respect does not exist in people who do not have emotion. As Jesus was hung on the cross that day, He cried... He cried to His Father..... and he was a grown man too. Think about it.
Friday, January 6, 2012
I Want to Run Away From It... But The Green Monster Keeps Chasing Me
The green monster always existed in my life. From the earliest time I can remember, the green monster existed under my bed, in my closet and even in my Barbie case. I have even seen the green monster's image within my own mother's face. And now it exists in my brain.
You see, the green monster isn't just any old green monster. Not like the germ guys that belong to the posse of Mr. Yuck. Not like the zombies or Godzilla in the Friday night horror picture show. My green monster takes on a couple different forms. 1. He is a killer. 2. He stole my mother and took over her mind. 3. He is a baby stealer. 4. He is destroying my mind.
Let's take this one at a time.
1. He is a killer: Well, it all started in 1976 when my godfather Charlie Brubaker died. He was a funny man to me and was memorable. 1978, my beloved grandmother, Thelma Helena Bachman Bostic passed away. 1985, my precious precious Daddy died. 1988, my first born child, Dolores Colleen Baughman... (nicknamed Dee-Dee) died. 2001, both of my maternal grandparents, John Melsom and Gladys Gentzler Melsom Condon died. Yes, I know what you're thinking... death is a natural part of life. It happens. Well not the way it happened to me.
2. He stole my mother and took over her mind. Gosh, don't even know where to begin on this one. Maybe I won't even bother. I just know that when I would look at her when she was doing the things she was doing to me, I seen the green monster. I disconnected, because I didn't want to see my mother doing those things. And when she said the things she did, even as most recently on New Year's Day which was the most traumatic for me ever in my life, except for the time she told me that when she married my father; she did not love him, I always see the monster.
3. He is a baby stealer. Most of you know what happened with that situation. I lost my 2 babies. Ripped out of my arms by people again that I was supposed to be able to trust... the police. This was when I learned for a fact, there is no justice, that I cannot trust anyone. I was taught by my father that I was to trust policemen, firemen and school teachers, counselors.... yeah right. I told them about my mother when I was young, they didn't believe me... and then the policemen came and took my babies away and the big Judge without talking to me, decided to take them forever.
4. He is stealing my mind. The monster never left me. I believe somehow that he is generational. Not sure which side, maybe parts of both. Considering all my parents both went through as children. Both of their lives destroyed one way or another, with one coming out of it very ill but kind and loving; the other coming out of it quite bitter and mean... taking it out on every one around her. I still see the monster. I certainly did on New Year's Day. When my mother proceeded to call my unborn grandchild a bastard and then told me that my father was a bastard as well. Telling me that she wishes and really wanted an abortion with me. That she specifically did not want any of us children, that she had us because Daddy wanted us. That we only caused her pain. When she told me about my father, that is when I lost it. I wailed as if a small child who lost their parent. No one talks about my Daddy that way. Especially the one he married and loved, treated her like gold, he thought she was everything... his treasure box. The monster came and took him away, leaving me behind to her. Now the monster has spread to me, since he killed my father. He is now trying to overtake my brain and make it into nothingness. He has a description: Big, green, warty, 3 eyes bulging, ooze coming out from the nostrils and flames shooting out of the pointed ears. Wrinkled skin, kind of aged, dinosaur teeth that when clenched fit perfectly together. When the monster opened the mouth, I seen Hell. Literally. I seen fire, children in rags screaming for their mummies and daddies. Pulling themselves up, or trying to... onto burning logs to get out of the river of fire. People who were unwanted, mentally challenged; all trying to get out of the pit. When he laughed, I heard my mother's laugh. Spoke with refrains of the song "Anything you can do, I can do better". The same song my mother sang to me for years after I even first remember hearing the monster sing it.
Yes, I know he is taking over my brain. I feel the ooze covering it, like honey on a stick. Making it hard for me to remember things, to get things done. Taking my moods and swinging them like a bat at a Little League ball game. Never knowing how I am going to feel when I wake up. Some days, I wake up feeling so good, loving life, loving my family... knowing what I am going to do that day and accomplish much. And then the next day, I could wake up and feel sluggish. Not wanting to be bothered, seem agitated, depressed, confused, can't remember what I wanted to do. Always tired. Yes, definitely. Am supposed to take an hour nap every day, but I feel lazy if I do that. I don't want to be lazy for my husband and children.
Lately, I have been having trouble completing tasks. Or getting many things done in one day like I used to. Now, I get a couple things done and literally I am done. I want to pass out. I don't though, I keep pushing until it is done. But I see it slipping away. Sometimes, I feel heat in my head. And it feels like it is traveling and that is when I think, it's his ooze... destroying my brain cells; like he is on Parade. He is chiseling at my brain, like a wood master. By the time he is done, he thinks there will be nothing left. I am trying to beat this thing. I want to be like David and Goliath. I want to beat the monster. Kill him before he reaches my children. I already know he got to my brother Jim. How dare he. He did not attack my mother, because it is rare for a monster to attack another monster. Or to attack themselves. The green monster and my mother are thriving off of each other. They might get me at the end, but one thing I do know, if it is generational... I am already breaking the cycle of my mother. My daughters will be good mothers. And as for the green monster; maybe he will die with her.
You see, the green monster isn't just any old green monster. Not like the germ guys that belong to the posse of Mr. Yuck. Not like the zombies or Godzilla in the Friday night horror picture show. My green monster takes on a couple different forms. 1. He is a killer. 2. He stole my mother and took over her mind. 3. He is a baby stealer. 4. He is destroying my mind.
Let's take this one at a time.
1. He is a killer: Well, it all started in 1976 when my godfather Charlie Brubaker died. He was a funny man to me and was memorable. 1978, my beloved grandmother, Thelma Helena Bachman Bostic passed away. 1985, my precious precious Daddy died. 1988, my first born child, Dolores Colleen Baughman... (nicknamed Dee-Dee) died. 2001, both of my maternal grandparents, John Melsom and Gladys Gentzler Melsom Condon died. Yes, I know what you're thinking... death is a natural part of life. It happens. Well not the way it happened to me.
2. He stole my mother and took over her mind. Gosh, don't even know where to begin on this one. Maybe I won't even bother. I just know that when I would look at her when she was doing the things she was doing to me, I seen the green monster. I disconnected, because I didn't want to see my mother doing those things. And when she said the things she did, even as most recently on New Year's Day which was the most traumatic for me ever in my life, except for the time she told me that when she married my father; she did not love him, I always see the monster.
3. He is a baby stealer. Most of you know what happened with that situation. I lost my 2 babies. Ripped out of my arms by people again that I was supposed to be able to trust... the police. This was when I learned for a fact, there is no justice, that I cannot trust anyone. I was taught by my father that I was to trust policemen, firemen and school teachers, counselors.... yeah right. I told them about my mother when I was young, they didn't believe me... and then the policemen came and took my babies away and the big Judge without talking to me, decided to take them forever.
4. He is stealing my mind. The monster never left me. I believe somehow that he is generational. Not sure which side, maybe parts of both. Considering all my parents both went through as children. Both of their lives destroyed one way or another, with one coming out of it very ill but kind and loving; the other coming out of it quite bitter and mean... taking it out on every one around her. I still see the monster. I certainly did on New Year's Day. When my mother proceeded to call my unborn grandchild a bastard and then told me that my father was a bastard as well. Telling me that she wishes and really wanted an abortion with me. That she specifically did not want any of us children, that she had us because Daddy wanted us. That we only caused her pain. When she told me about my father, that is when I lost it. I wailed as if a small child who lost their parent. No one talks about my Daddy that way. Especially the one he married and loved, treated her like gold, he thought she was everything... his treasure box. The monster came and took him away, leaving me behind to her. Now the monster has spread to me, since he killed my father. He is now trying to overtake my brain and make it into nothingness. He has a description: Big, green, warty, 3 eyes bulging, ooze coming out from the nostrils and flames shooting out of the pointed ears. Wrinkled skin, kind of aged, dinosaur teeth that when clenched fit perfectly together. When the monster opened the mouth, I seen Hell. Literally. I seen fire, children in rags screaming for their mummies and daddies. Pulling themselves up, or trying to... onto burning logs to get out of the river of fire. People who were unwanted, mentally challenged; all trying to get out of the pit. When he laughed, I heard my mother's laugh. Spoke with refrains of the song "Anything you can do, I can do better". The same song my mother sang to me for years after I even first remember hearing the monster sing it.
Yes, I know he is taking over my brain. I feel the ooze covering it, like honey on a stick. Making it hard for me to remember things, to get things done. Taking my moods and swinging them like a bat at a Little League ball game. Never knowing how I am going to feel when I wake up. Some days, I wake up feeling so good, loving life, loving my family... knowing what I am going to do that day and accomplish much. And then the next day, I could wake up and feel sluggish. Not wanting to be bothered, seem agitated, depressed, confused, can't remember what I wanted to do. Always tired. Yes, definitely. Am supposed to take an hour nap every day, but I feel lazy if I do that. I don't want to be lazy for my husband and children.
Lately, I have been having trouble completing tasks. Or getting many things done in one day like I used to. Now, I get a couple things done and literally I am done. I want to pass out. I don't though, I keep pushing until it is done. But I see it slipping away. Sometimes, I feel heat in my head. And it feels like it is traveling and that is when I think, it's his ooze... destroying my brain cells; like he is on Parade. He is chiseling at my brain, like a wood master. By the time he is done, he thinks there will be nothing left. I am trying to beat this thing. I want to be like David and Goliath. I want to beat the monster. Kill him before he reaches my children. I already know he got to my brother Jim. How dare he. He did not attack my mother, because it is rare for a monster to attack another monster. Or to attack themselves. The green monster and my mother are thriving off of each other. They might get me at the end, but one thing I do know, if it is generational... I am already breaking the cycle of my mother. My daughters will be good mothers. And as for the green monster; maybe he will die with her.
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