I was planning on writing about how I have somehow managed to put the anxieties I’ve been experiencing since Monster Jim’s release on hold to help my son through his own anxieties. I do plan on dissecting this ability in the near future and writing about what I’ve been feeling, however something else hit me like a baseball bat to the head, something I feel very passionately about, and something that is commanding my attention right now. I am going to write about the “Abuse Excuse.”
The Abuse Excuse is a term I coined almost twenty years ago describing the ability for a victim of abuse to use the abuse as a reason to continue to abuse themselves or those around them. It’s a victim’s ability to use the abuse they survived as a justification for bad, unhealthy or otherwise selfish behavior. It is, in my opinion, completely unacceptable.
I understand the emotional turmoil you go through as a survivor. I have lived through the night terrors, the panic attacks, the depression, the self destructive behavior and the self loathing. I have battled the suicidal thoughts, the addiction issues, promiscuity, and the inability to have a decent functional relationship. No one threw a better pity party than I did. I understand wanting those that hurt you to hurt as much as you do and the toxic hatred you feel. I too have had the thoughts of sweet revenge, imagining things too gory to put into words. I know that sometimes death would seem like a blessing. I didn’t read about this stuff- I LIVED IT!
Dr Phil tells parents whose children run the house, “That’s the tail wagging the dog.” When you allow yourself to live in a perpetual state of The Abuse Excuse, it’s no different. The abuse is controlling you, it’s defining who you are. You are not in control. Your abuser may be long gone, but you are still letting them victimize you on a daily basis. Why would you do that? What? You don’t think you’re strong enough? Bull Shit!! YOU SURVIVED!! You survived for a reason, and I can promise you it wasn’t to live a half assed life doped up on medications or self medicating with alcohol and drugs. You didn’t survive to hop from one bed to the next letting people who aren’t worthy of you get their rocks off. You certainly didn’t survive to turn around and victimize someone else. You survived for some reason only you know.
For me that reason was my kids. I couldn’t be good mother to my son if I wasn’t good to Myself.
I put Myself in therapy. I worked very hard with someone who had all the qualifications and licenses the state offered. She had never been a victim herself, but she had read all the books and taken all the tests. It is kind of like going to marriage counseling with a priest. They can help you with everything they’ve read about or been trained in, but they will never truly get it. She was able to point out all the areas in my life I was sabotaging Myself, she could put a label on the panic attacks and the night terrors, she could even give me ways to help combat the unwelcome intrusions into my mind, but she had never really lived through what I had. It’s the difference between book smarts and street smarts. I will forever be grateful to my therapist, Nancy. She helped me sort out a lot of completely unorganized and disheveled thoughts. She helped me clear my mind so I could figure out the rest on my own, the rest of the healing only someone who has survived can understand.
I think that’s why I get so frustrated. I was never the smartest kid in the class. No one voted me most likely to succeed. My parents were thrilled with C’s on my report card. Yet so many people, so many intelligent people can’t figure out how to get past something, in their past! They are letting it suck them in and pull them down like the Tar Pits at Rancho La Brea. They get stuck wallowing in the muck and the guck of the abuse they survived they don’t realize they aren’t going anywhere. They can’t see they are being slowly sucked down into an abyss of lifeless survival. When I wake up in the morning, my goal isn’t to make it to bed at the end of the day, my goal is to see what I can accomplish, to embrace this amazing beautiful life I have and squeeze every ounce of positive energy I can from it.
When I see or hear people talk about their experiences and use it as an excuse as to why their life is in ruins I can’t explain the irritation I feel. Really? You were abused so you have to have another beer? You were abused so you need to get high? You were abused so you need to sleep around? You were a victim so you need to take the medications? Has it ever occurred to you that you are abusing yourself more than the predator?
Before I go any further, I will say this… If you are on antidepressants, anti anxiety meds or meds that are helping you cope while you are dealing with your past… for God sake don’t think I am talking about you! I am talking about the over medicated, I need a pain pill for every ache I have person, who suffers from psychosomatic pain but refuses to get help, it’s easier to take the pain pill ~ person. If you are on antidepressants or anti anxiety meds I applaud you for taking that step.
Now back to our regularly scheduled program
At the risk of sounding like a giant toothed motivational speaker or a high school football coach talking in the locker room before the last big game of the season, I am going to tell you something I doubt any of you have heard. ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING!
You have to decide that you are going to take control of your life, you have to decide that you are going to win, and you have to decide you are worth it. Sometimes it’s that last part that’s the hardest. Monster Jim had me convinced my family could care less if I lived or died. He had me convinced he would be doing the world a favor if he would just put me out of everyone’s misery. The psychological abuse he inflicted is, at times, far more painful than the sexual or physical abuse. To this day, when people give me compliments I have a hard time 1)believing them and 2)accepting it. I don’t handle compliments well. My first knee jerk reaction is, “What do they want from me?”
As long as you continue to flounder around and use your victimization as an excuse to abuse yourself, or others, you aren’t allowed to call yourself a survivor. You are, in my opinion, worse than the person who put you in that position in the first place. If you aren’t willing to stand up and fight for yourself who will be?
The last type of person I want to call out is the one who thinks the world owes them something because they were abused. I’m not talking about the people who have sued or are suing the Catholic church because a priest molested them when they were 10. When an organization enables pedophiles to roam freely in and out of their midst protecting them rather than holding them accountable, they should be sued. They should be brought to their knees and hit where it hurts. Unfortunately in our society that means the bank account. I am talking about the person who talks about how bad their life sucks and points out how well others around them are doing. The people who claim they would have had a better life too if this never happened to them. The people who chose to live in the noxious quick sand of jealousy.
You have a choice. Stay there and continue to slop around in the human waste you have created or stand up, wash yourself off and realize the people you are so envious of have probably gone through similar experiences if not worse, they simply chose to move past it. They chose to fix the broken parts of their lives and create something wonderful out of something tragic and awful.
Everyone is “re-purposing” now, turning old beat up barn wood into custom made cabinets, turning old dilapidated furniture into beautiful works of art. Why can’t you re-purpose your life! Turn your tragedy into an amazing fairytale! Don’t tell me it’s not possible… I did!!
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Crazy White Chick Visits the Dentist
Mercer Meyer (little critter)writes about it, Berenstain Bears make the trip, hell even Dora and Sponge Bob get in on the action. Melvin the Magnificent Molar does his job teaching future dentists and over eager learners about each tooth in your head, while some creepy white coat wearing dentist tries to relate to all the little children and explain why good dental health is important. I could find unlimited books and DVD’s for children, preparing them for their first big, scary trip to the dentist, but there was very little out there to prepare someone like me to make that trip. Mercer Meyer wrote about the fun toys and books in the waiting room, not once was there mention of the wet bar with an unlimited supply of free flowing alcohol in the corner or a coin operated Xanax dispenser.
There are books about anxiety but that’s not what this is. The sound of the drills, the shots into the gums, none of that scares me, none of it bothers me. It’s much deeper than that. In my search for the adult version of some little book to help me get over my paralyzing fear of going to the dentist I did find a nifty little product called “Temptooth.” It’s some kind of DIY denture kit that I am seriously considering at this point. My luck I would pay $35.00 and get a box of white chiclets and end up looking like Gary Busey.
I remember as a kid going to the dentist, Dr Stonebrook, in Eldora Iowa. He was a white haired old man that smelled like spearmint. Of course he had a perfect smile and kind eyes that hid behind big metal glasses. My memories include him pulling about 8 teeth, yes even Melvin the Magnificent Molar was yanked, to make room and straighten out my front teeth. He called it progressive pulling, mom called it wonderful! It saved my parents hefty orthodontics bills and me years of a wire wrapped smile. Even with a trip to the dentist that ended in a gauze filled mouth and 8 missing teeth, I don’t have bad memories. In fact I would give anything to go back there right now and relive that experience. Son of a bitch!! As I am writing about it, I am crying! Yes… actual tears! That was when my life was sunny and 78. That was when people would tell me what a beautiful smile I had. A couple years later and a run in with Monster Jim, the animal that molested me, my life and my oral health changed forever.
It’s moments like this, I want to punch Monster Jim in the face, I want to punch Myself in the face, I want to punch SOMEONE in the face! This is one of those internal, deeply ingrained scars that never seem to heal. This is one of those “Why can’t I be fucking NORMAL” moments that irritate every last nerve in my body!
Monster Jim took so much from me. He took my innocence, he took my trust, he took my family, he took my ability to love, he took my self confidence, my sense of safety, countless nights of sleep, there is just no end to the bits and pieces he has shattered in my life. For years he took my ability to smile, to really truly smile from the inside.
When Jack saw the picture my mom has hanging in her stairwell of my brother, sister, and I (I was about 4), it became his mission to make me smile like that once again, ear to ear, not a care in the world, mouth open and smile shining bright, my entire face beaming with joy. He has made me feel like that. He has given me back my ability to trust, my family is repaired, Loving is not just easy it’s what I live for, I have self confidence and for the first time ever I finally feel somewhat safe. I have been reclaiming my life and gradually getting everything he took back, picking up the pieces and putting them back together. The only thing I have left is to smile from the inside out and now I can’t, my smile is broken and I can’t fix it.
The thought of someone, ANYONE, forcing my mouth open and shoving things into it, sends me into a whirlwind of anxiety. My heart starts racing, I feel sick to my stomach and hiding under my bed seems like a viable alternative. I know I need to go to the dentist, I know this is for me and they aren’t going to do to me the things Jim did. I know this because, several years ago I made the first trip to the dentist since Dr Stonebrook. I worked Myself up to it, I explained to the Dentist my problems and the anxieties I had about being there and I requested he use as much gas as allowable by law to help me survive that experience. He did the work I needed done and I went on my way. I sat in my house feeling like I had just been violated. I sat in my room feeling all of the disgusting horrible thoughts I had felt years earlier. I went to sleep only to wake in a cold sweat, screaming from the night terrors I thought I had put to rest long ago. Suicidal thoughts darted in and out of my mind. I started drinking a little more and caring about my life a lot less.
The last trip to the dentist was shortly after my son Jakob had passed away so the anger and night terrors, the depression and erratic behavior, it was all blamed on the overwhelming grief I was feeling. Not just by those around me, but I too fell for a very believable and even more justifiable lie. I had that luxury at that time, now, not so much.
Here I sit years later, my mouth is falling apart. The teeth I have left are in dire need of repair and the thought of going to the dentist makes me cower. If allowed to think about it for too long, I will make myself physically ill. I can’t put it off any longer but I can’t figure out how to get it done. I am embarrassed to show a dentist the monstrosity I have let my mouth become, and scared of the months of torture I will be forced to endure after my visit. Compounding the problem, last summer Monster Jim, a level three sex offender, a HIGHLY DANGEROUS individual, was released from The State Hospital. Every emotion, every fear, every noxious, gruesome, harmful and terrifying memory came exceptionally close to a completely out of control full volcanic eruption. Self destruction was imminent. I tried to evacuate those around me to save them from my impending demise. I ran, warp speed, back to my therapist couch and with her help we have managed to relieve some of the toxic pressure lowering the molten lava to a dangerously high but functionally safe level. I have to keep my thoughts, emotions and fears in check daily. I am already dealing with anxiety levels that are bordering on the red all the time. Sleep is something that I remember at one time was peaceful for me, but those days are long ago. Makeup isn’t even hiding the dark circles under my eyes anymore. Tears can fall for no explainable reason (see earlier paragraph), and my anger can reach uncontrollable rage in nanoseconds. With all of this already so close to the surface, I am scared adding the last little ingredient like a trip to the dentist, I will make Tambora look like a zit popping. I know my mental stability would fall like Rome.
My sister found a place in Fargo that will put me under general anesthesia. Excited about the idea I could just go in, go to sleep and wake up unable to recall the mid evil torture device that forces my mouth open, a medically induced amnesia would allow me to endure the dental repairs I so desperately need! I eagerly sent them an email giving them a brief synopsis of my tragic past and the anguish a trip to the dentist causes. I waited for a response. I waited for them to tell me they had many patients like me and I wasn’t alone. I waited for them to tell me my issues were small peanuts to them and they could easily fix me. I waited to hear I would get my smile back. I’m still waiting.
I have been thinking of other workable options, so far I have come up with a vow of silence. Jack would be thrilled for the first few days but then I think even he would miss me spouting off my random and senseless words of wisdom, not to mention I could never stop telling my boys or Jack how much I love them. I thought about the DIY denture kit and suddenly craved chiclets. Does anyone else remember Guy Smiley? I thought about ordering the “flippers” you see on the mysteriously popular “Toddlers with Tiaras,” but visions of Honey Boo Boo and Mama June quickly extinguished that thought, leaving me out of ideas. I’ve got nothing. I’ve got no cute book with a fuzzy character to walk me through how I am supposed to do this, I have no practical alternatives, and I am quickly running out of time. Had I not written my book, “The Purple Orchid List,” had the book not been published and if it weren’t doing so well, I could easily slip away out of the public eye. I could move to a small cabin in the mountains some place and live the rest of my life in toothless peace.
As I have been writing this, I have been looking at hypnosis, meditation and yes, I even considered committing myself into a psych ward to prevent any self inflicted injury or pain I may cause. I decided to send one last email to the dental office in Fargo that advertises treatments done under general anesthesia, the medical amnesia I desperately need. To my surprise, they responded. Not only did they respond, I set up an appointment! With my determination, and their propofol, I will get my smile back! I will be beaming once again. I will finally have regained everything in my life Monster Jim took. I can honestly say I am excited about going to the dentist!
New blog posts from Crazy White Chick every TUESDAY!!
Next week....a pause button for anxiety?
There are books about anxiety but that’s not what this is. The sound of the drills, the shots into the gums, none of that scares me, none of it bothers me. It’s much deeper than that. In my search for the adult version of some little book to help me get over my paralyzing fear of going to the dentist I did find a nifty little product called “Temptooth.” It’s some kind of DIY denture kit that I am seriously considering at this point. My luck I would pay $35.00 and get a box of white chiclets and end up looking like Gary Busey.
I remember as a kid going to the dentist, Dr Stonebrook, in Eldora Iowa. He was a white haired old man that smelled like spearmint. Of course he had a perfect smile and kind eyes that hid behind big metal glasses. My memories include him pulling about 8 teeth, yes even Melvin the Magnificent Molar was yanked, to make room and straighten out my front teeth. He called it progressive pulling, mom called it wonderful! It saved my parents hefty orthodontics bills and me years of a wire wrapped smile. Even with a trip to the dentist that ended in a gauze filled mouth and 8 missing teeth, I don’t have bad memories. In fact I would give anything to go back there right now and relive that experience. Son of a bitch!! As I am writing about it, I am crying! Yes… actual tears! That was when my life was sunny and 78. That was when people would tell me what a beautiful smile I had. A couple years later and a run in with Monster Jim, the animal that molested me, my life and my oral health changed forever.
It’s moments like this, I want to punch Monster Jim in the face, I want to punch Myself in the face, I want to punch SOMEONE in the face! This is one of those internal, deeply ingrained scars that never seem to heal. This is one of those “Why can’t I be fucking NORMAL” moments that irritate every last nerve in my body!
Monster Jim took so much from me. He took my innocence, he took my trust, he took my family, he took my ability to love, he took my self confidence, my sense of safety, countless nights of sleep, there is just no end to the bits and pieces he has shattered in my life. For years he took my ability to smile, to really truly smile from the inside.
When Jack saw the picture my mom has hanging in her stairwell of my brother, sister, and I (I was about 4), it became his mission to make me smile like that once again, ear to ear, not a care in the world, mouth open and smile shining bright, my entire face beaming with joy. He has made me feel like that. He has given me back my ability to trust, my family is repaired, Loving is not just easy it’s what I live for, I have self confidence and for the first time ever I finally feel somewhat safe. I have been reclaiming my life and gradually getting everything he took back, picking up the pieces and putting them back together. The only thing I have left is to smile from the inside out and now I can’t, my smile is broken and I can’t fix it.
The thought of someone, ANYONE, forcing my mouth open and shoving things into it, sends me into a whirlwind of anxiety. My heart starts racing, I feel sick to my stomach and hiding under my bed seems like a viable alternative. I know I need to go to the dentist, I know this is for me and they aren’t going to do to me the things Jim did. I know this because, several years ago I made the first trip to the dentist since Dr Stonebrook. I worked Myself up to it, I explained to the Dentist my problems and the anxieties I had about being there and I requested he use as much gas as allowable by law to help me survive that experience. He did the work I needed done and I went on my way. I sat in my house feeling like I had just been violated. I sat in my room feeling all of the disgusting horrible thoughts I had felt years earlier. I went to sleep only to wake in a cold sweat, screaming from the night terrors I thought I had put to rest long ago. Suicidal thoughts darted in and out of my mind. I started drinking a little more and caring about my life a lot less.
The last trip to the dentist was shortly after my son Jakob had passed away so the anger and night terrors, the depression and erratic behavior, it was all blamed on the overwhelming grief I was feeling. Not just by those around me, but I too fell for a very believable and even more justifiable lie. I had that luxury at that time, now, not so much.
Here I sit years later, my mouth is falling apart. The teeth I have left are in dire need of repair and the thought of going to the dentist makes me cower. If allowed to think about it for too long, I will make myself physically ill. I can’t put it off any longer but I can’t figure out how to get it done. I am embarrassed to show a dentist the monstrosity I have let my mouth become, and scared of the months of torture I will be forced to endure after my visit. Compounding the problem, last summer Monster Jim, a level three sex offender, a HIGHLY DANGEROUS individual, was released from The State Hospital. Every emotion, every fear, every noxious, gruesome, harmful and terrifying memory came exceptionally close to a completely out of control full volcanic eruption. Self destruction was imminent. I tried to evacuate those around me to save them from my impending demise. I ran, warp speed, back to my therapist couch and with her help we have managed to relieve some of the toxic pressure lowering the molten lava to a dangerously high but functionally safe level. I have to keep my thoughts, emotions and fears in check daily. I am already dealing with anxiety levels that are bordering on the red all the time. Sleep is something that I remember at one time was peaceful for me, but those days are long ago. Makeup isn’t even hiding the dark circles under my eyes anymore. Tears can fall for no explainable reason (see earlier paragraph), and my anger can reach uncontrollable rage in nanoseconds. With all of this already so close to the surface, I am scared adding the last little ingredient like a trip to the dentist, I will make Tambora look like a zit popping. I know my mental stability would fall like Rome.
My sister found a place in Fargo that will put me under general anesthesia. Excited about the idea I could just go in, go to sleep and wake up unable to recall the mid evil torture device that forces my mouth open, a medically induced amnesia would allow me to endure the dental repairs I so desperately need! I eagerly sent them an email giving them a brief synopsis of my tragic past and the anguish a trip to the dentist causes. I waited for a response. I waited for them to tell me they had many patients like me and I wasn’t alone. I waited for them to tell me my issues were small peanuts to them and they could easily fix me. I waited to hear I would get my smile back. I’m still waiting.
I have been thinking of other workable options, so far I have come up with a vow of silence. Jack would be thrilled for the first few days but then I think even he would miss me spouting off my random and senseless words of wisdom, not to mention I could never stop telling my boys or Jack how much I love them. I thought about the DIY denture kit and suddenly craved chiclets. Does anyone else remember Guy Smiley? I thought about ordering the “flippers” you see on the mysteriously popular “Toddlers with Tiaras,” but visions of Honey Boo Boo and Mama June quickly extinguished that thought, leaving me out of ideas. I’ve got nothing. I’ve got no cute book with a fuzzy character to walk me through how I am supposed to do this, I have no practical alternatives, and I am quickly running out of time. Had I not written my book, “The Purple Orchid List,” had the book not been published and if it weren’t doing so well, I could easily slip away out of the public eye. I could move to a small cabin in the mountains some place and live the rest of my life in toothless peace.
As I have been writing this, I have been looking at hypnosis, meditation and yes, I even considered committing myself into a psych ward to prevent any self inflicted injury or pain I may cause. I decided to send one last email to the dental office in Fargo that advertises treatments done under general anesthesia, the medical amnesia I desperately need. To my surprise, they responded. Not only did they respond, I set up an appointment! With my determination, and their propofol, I will get my smile back! I will be beaming once again. I will finally have regained everything in my life Monster Jim took. I can honestly say I am excited about going to the dentist!
New blog posts from Crazy White Chick every TUESDAY!!
Next week....a pause button for anxiety?
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