“Nobody Bothered To Even Listen”

Dear Dr. Nancy,

It’s me, Amy, I hate you, I hate you. You lied to me and you said you never would. You told me that I was going to stay at an Inn, I thought it was like a Bed and Breakfast and it turned out to be a damn mental hospital. It’s been a long time already and I’m still here at the hospital and I want to get out. I am mad at you, you broke your promise. You said it was only for a few weeks and it’s been a ton of weeks now, like months. How could you do that to me? I trusted you.  You betrayed my trust and you were the only person I trusted.

You sided with my parents and I will never forgive you or them. I was not a danger to myself no matter what anybody says. I sure don’t think I was, besides I know myself better than anybody. You should believe me, not them. I’m in a room all by myself in this stupid, antiseptic smelling hospital, it is very small with thick green padded walls. I couldn’t hurt myself in here if I tried. I think about trying all the time but only sometimes.

I told you and everybody else that I did not want to kill myself, I know what it LOOKS like but I am telling you the truth. Ok, sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. Happy?

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I know that there were open, bloody slits on my arms, I know I cut myself but does that mean I automatically wanted to die? Nobody even asked me. Nobody cared enough to ask.

I was so alone and had nobody to talk to and then four men shoved me into a van wrapped with an old flowery blanket around me and locked my arms in back of me. I tried to scream for my parents but they ran in the house like the spineless snakes they have always been. Precious older sister Julie of course was spared the scene.

If people would have just listened to me instead of ignoring me, putting me aside because I was “different.” Yeah, I was different, I had to be different. Everyone gave Julie all the attention with her blonde hair and blue eyes and perfect scores in school. Yes, she did get the academic award every year, so what? Wouldn’t you know she even played the piano like a saint? It was always Julie, always, My parents never had time for me, they never MADE time for me, so I had to get attention some how.

When I got my first tattoo my parents didn’t talk to me for a good month, well, at least they noticed, I sure got attention even though it was negative attention. It felt good. So, I continued

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and did all the bad stuff that I knew they would hate. I did drugs, I drank, drugs, took all kinds of drugs, yeah, I even shot up heroin, I did whatever I could. shooting up whatever I could do, I did.

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That angelic older sister of mine, Julie, would never even try anything bad, the goody two shoes,

My mom and dad never saw me as a person, they looked away from me, I was just Julie’s little sister. Julie was the only one they cared about. But, I thought you were different, Dr. Nancy and now I know you were not. You were part of my family’s plan to destroy me, to wipe me out and extinguish my flame in this world. Hey, why am I talking about a flame?

Maybe you are right because I plan to extinguish myself one way or another, the last remaining spark that is alive. So help me God.

By the time you get this letter I will be dead. I swear, I hope this makes you and my parents very happy. PS Tell my sister that I really did hate her.

From,

Amy D.

My OTHER Stomach

DID ANYONE SAY DESSERT ???

Peeps, work with me here, I am telling you a very big secret. Not many know about this but it is a very easy concept. Forget about anything, anyone else has told you, especially your doctors. They don’t teach THIS in medical school because they don’t even know about it. But, I do and I know it well. I have taught my family and they went on and taught their most trusted friends. Be careful with this most amazing gift. I am telling it to you because of my deep love for my readers.

Most people apparently feel that they have one stomach. Most medical people would agree but I beg to differ. Growing up with a Viennese father and a German/French mother we never had dessert. Dessert in our home was jello or social tea biscuits or those pressed, break your teeth hard raisin or prune bars that I haven’t seen since the sixties. My father would make up things called “concoctions”  for himself with bananas, ice milk (sherbert?) applesauce, sprinkles, canned fruit, yogurt and whatever else he could find. Example something like below but much higher:

“Dessert pour une personne” (Photo credit: Maxime FORT)

When I became a mother, things changed. I didn’t want my kids to have to go to other people’s houses and search/sneak through their closets and take delicious snacks ( like I did.) No, I wanted to be the provider of the snacks. In fact, my friend Debbie’s son, Michael,  called me “The Cookie Lady,” a name I wore with great pride.

In my house sweets were NOT banned but limits were set. Some of my children’s friends would come here with an organic apple and then gorge themselves full of Oreos or Chocolate Chip cookies. I didn’t judge AND there was always fruit on the table along with the cookies. I gave them choices…

In short, when you are full with a meal you can always have dessert. Always. There is a different pouch for that: The Dessert Stomach. It is there for a good reason, because in my family now, there is always room for dessert. Always.

No matter how full you are, no matter if you think you can’t eat another bite, just rest for a minute, look at the dessert menu and order. As soon as your dessert comes, your dessert stomach is happy to oblige. In our family we have 2 chocolate lovers and two

cupcakes (Photo credit: stu_spivack)

vanilla lovers, although I can go both ways.

We always we end up buying one dessert ( or two) and sharing them. Dessert (or D as we call it) is love to a higher power.

So next time you order dessert, don’t feel guilty, you are not over eating, you are just trying to fill a bit of your Dessert Stomach. Don’t say it timidly, say it with confidence and power. Most of all, say it convincingly. I bet they have never heard  of the “Other Stomach” Theory.

Feel free to tell them.

PS this is not meant for after lunch ( I got into trouble that way) it is only for after dinner. Trust me on this.

Haters Gonna Hate (Without Me)

English: Gwyneth Paltrow at the 2011 Venice Film Festival (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve read that there are people who “hate” Ann Hathaway just like they used to hate Gwyneth Paltrow. Hate? I read it in at least three or four different sources and an additional two at the end of the long supermarket line.

Where is all the “hate” coming from these days, I have no idea. I don’t get it. Is it a new “trend” to hate someone? I thought we were moving back to a “kinder, gentler nation.”  I guess I was wrong.

People are now hating  people they don’t even KNOW?

My God, (gasp!!), are we all back in middle school? Does he have”cooties?”Does SHE? UGH, she smells like a monkey, he smells like poop, hey he said a curse word, SHUT UP!!! Dad, he’s screaming at me, MOMMY….. and so it starts….unless the behavior can be changed right away.” Hate is a very strong word my parents told us,” “Hate is a very, very strong word, we told our children.”

I do know grown up people that are obviously mean and negative but, I make an effort to try to stay far away from them. Anyone who is consistently like that is NO longer in my close circle of friends. It wasn’t good for me and I’m much happier now. I know these past friends or acquaintances will stab anyone in the back, some would be shocked to think that they do it, many people are unaware of how they come across.

Apparently the movie “Mean Girls” lives on but instead of being ashamed many people are proud of their status or have no idea what pain they are inflicting on others. There are quite a few “Mean Girls” that grow up without learning lessons, they become “Mean People.”

I’d rather someone be mean to my face than behind my back because you know someone will always delight in telling you. This way, if someone attacks you to your face you can decide to fight back or walk away saying “This is YOUR problem, not Mine.”

So, hate away, haters. I’m not joining in. There’s too much negativity in the world already, I’m not getting involved in anything remotely mean, gossipy or unkind. There is enough pain going around in this world without me adding to it. Even though some people don’t show it, we all have issues we are dealing with inside.

Am I changing the world? I know I’m not. I’m just changing my teeny, tiny piece of it, that’s all I can to do. If I can change one person to stop saying one mean thing I would be thrilled. I’m not changing the world but to me it’s still worth the effort.

Baby Boomers: What Are We Now, Chopped Liver?

English: The New York Times building in New York, NY across from the Port Authority. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)LickIt must, because apparently The New York Times no longer wants the Boomer section anymore. Yep, they are kicking us boomers straight to the curb. that’s the reason that The New York Times has kicked Baby Boomers to the curb. Why? They won’t say and believe me their fans have asked.

Like a swift unexpected kick in the ass, readers of The New York Times (loyal readers I might add) found out that they were removing the Booming column that delighted us all. Really? Yes, true fact. No explanation other than “blah blah blah.” It would be in here or there maybe on Tuesdays but without Michael Winerip who we have all grown to like and respect. I liked this dude, he was real and approachable.

What the hell are you thinking? I guess we are not important anymore, make way for Generation Whatever.  I was born in 1956 to the best of my knowledge I’m a Baby Boomer. Please remember this, we haven’t dropped dead just yet. You needed us back then (hint: Woodstock) and now you have cut out a large part of your readership. We are still consumers and you have let us down.

Eliminating or phasing out the Booming section is disappointing, I could relate to Michael Winerip’s essays and now we’re getting shoved aside, as if we don’t feel old enough. The New York Times, with whom we’ve been faithful to, is giving us the heave-ho. It feels like yet another slap in the face to those of us in The Sandwich Generation.

Everyone wonders what the reason was that they decided to take that section out. But, of course we don’t expect them to tell us the reason. That is way too old-fashioned. Manners? Nah, that was in the fifties. Back where if you didn’t get a job the boss called you on the telephone and told you why, when things were simpler, more honest, and we didn’t have a hundred choices of everything from paint chips to lipstick to television channels to drugs.

Let’s face it, it’s not the best of times for many of us. The economy stinks (I’m trying to be professional here) unemployment is really high, we’re caught between taking care of our aging parents, ourselves and our grown up children.We are still known as The Sandwich Generation, remember that? It’s been the Winter from hell and it isn’t over yet and while the Booming Section didn’t change our world it added a little fun.

Don’t flatter yourself New York Times. You’ve become replaceable as apparently we have too. We stayed with you through all your changes, now it’s our turn to say good-bye.

http://youtu.be/EGHRrEvpuk4

Boomers: 1946~1953 to 1964

This would make baby boomers, in the year 2010, somewhere in the ballpark of 46-64 years old.

Gen X: 1965 to 1976~1982

– See more at: http://theechoboom.com/2010/09/dateage-range-of-baby-boomers-generation-x-and-generation-y/#sthash.MrX7nqmo.dpuf

Boomers: 1946~1953 to 1964

This would make baby boomers, in the year 2010, somewhere in the ballpark of 46-64 years old.

Gen X: 1965 to 1976~1982

– See more at: http://theechoboom.com/2010/09/dateage-range-of-baby-boomers-generation-x-and-generation-y/#sthash.MrX7nqmo.dpuf

Dear Miley: Grow Up Already (Pop Cop)

I’ll keep it short, don’t worry. It will be as short as the item of clothing you call shorts that you wear which really are two tiny pieces of material stapled or scotch taped together so you look like the trash princess you appear to be. My newborn daughter wore more clothes than that. Nobody wants to spend time writing about you or reading about you, I’ll give you a few sentences. You are not worth more than that at this time. We don’t care who or what you are nipping or licking or playing with, be it boys, men or teddy bears. We’re sick of you, overindulged pop stars with a sense of entitlement and no sense of responsibility to yourself or your younger fans. If you want to smoke grass at some public event, we don’t even care about that. Shame you didn’t do it in the US because then I would have loved to see the police politely handcuff you and sit you down on your rather naked butt and drive you quickly to the police station. Now, THAT would have been a SHOW!

Smoking a joint on a national television show, that shows real class. I’m sure your parents are very proud of you. (In case you don’t understand, both were sarcastic remarks.) Why don’t you give everyone a break and hide out someplace safe and quiet and away from drugs and alcohol and find something to do with your life except embarrass yourself? Trust me it would be better than what you are doing now. In fact, I guarantee it. By the way, the song below? Aptly named to describe your life.  Enough said. If you end up like all the overdosed, dead pop stars, that’s your choice. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Plinky Prompt: Baby Love

Young woman kissing baby in bassinet (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

• 6:00AM: the best hour of the day, or too close to your 3:00AM bedtime? See all answers

• • Edit answer |
  • November 11, 2013 by hibernationnow
  • Baby Love

  • NEITHER

  • 
    During my college years (which I can remember vaguely but with fondness) I always needed SOME sleep. I never was one of those “all-nighter” students, I needed at least four hours of sleep. My main problem and yes, it has carried on still today is that I hate the taste of alcohol (hang my head in shame,) so I wasn’t the wild, party girl type. 6:00AM was right in the middle of my sleep.

    6:00AM was ONLY for the love of my two sweet young ones, 21 months apart. We called my son “the farmer” he was awake every morning at 5am toddling in his little one piece sleeper to wake me up because “he didn’t want to miss anything.” When I think about it, he’s still the same way now at 21.

    Our daughter, came screaming into the world and kept screaming. I was up with her many times a night so if it was 6:00 am or 3:00am it was just to pick up my sweet girl, hold her in my arms and feel her body immediately relax.

    That’s what it takes if you want to be a mom, like I did. I wanted to be a mom since I was six years old, I became one at 33, after two and a half years of painful and emotionally draining infertility treatments.
    So at 3am, 6am, sure I was tired. But holding a crying baby in my arms, was nothing short of a miracle to me and it never upset me or made me mad. I was able to hold my baby as I sat in the rocking chair, all my dreams having come true. Who was I to complain?

Yellow Magic Madness # 36 The Little Yellow House On The Corner

“Where there is love there is life.” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Tonight, my little yellow house is quiet. my dog is in her bed snuggled happily in her blankets; she looks like an angel when she is asleep. Other times she is the most difficult, stubborn, strong and crazy dog I’ve ever seen. I rescued her from the shelter, I saw her curled in a little red ball, asleep. We have had four trainers, books, gadgets, leashes, collars, any equipment you can imagine and she defies them all. Not that I would want to buy a dog from a breeder (though I am giving it serious thought for the first time) with the money we have spent we could have purchased a purebred, maybe two. This dog is wild, charming and adorable, sometimes we think she is part dingo. I love her to pieces.

My husband is already asleep, he has to get up very early on weekdays to trudge into the city to a job he really doesn’t like but at least it pays the bills. I am trying to focus on my kids coming home soon to visit; these three people are my treasures in life and there is not a day I take them for granted.

I am both a daughter and a parent. Sometimes it is hard to be in the middle, worrying both about my mom and my kids. You never know what the right thing to do is, you just try to do the best you can but sometimes it feels like a juggling act, no one is completely satisfied. We try to do the best that we can, that’s all we know how to do. I love my children so much, they ARE my world, I would do anything for them, instead of them, because of them. I not only love them but I like them as well. They are good, outstanding people, smart, kind, caring and adaptable which was never my strong suit but even I have changed. My husband and I always said I need 24 -48 hours to get used to change, and no one knows me like he does. I adore this man with whom I’ve been married for twenty-five years.

The night air is still, sky is black, I feel comforted. The air is different at night then it is during the day. My little yellow house stands underneath a vast sky of darkness. I can think more, be more peaceful, write, breathe in the evening. It’s at night when I don’t have to focus on anything else that makes me feel good, and at peace with myself. Life isn’t as complicated as I make it, I realize that at night, I need to remember that during the day.

Listening to crickets, the room is warm, I think back to old times, simpler times but I wouldn’t go back again. I love who I am today,  older, more appreciative and more at peace with myself. Grateful. I know what is important, I don’t need anything else in life.

A Letter To Zach Sobiech

I was cranky, hurting and giving up hope. I have felt badly from chronic illnesses, okay, for a lot of them, but it was time for some ass-kicking, some serious ass-kicking and I was the one who needed it the most. Sure, life isn’t perfect, and I haven’t been feeling well but I’m  going back to try to keep it inside, at least most of the time. No one promised that everything would go smoothly all the time, right? I forget that sometimes. So, I sat down tonight and thought about people, both who are living and those who have lived and died, people who have made a lasting impression on my life. One person came to mind:

Zach Sobiech

Zach Sobiech Breaking Up (Photo credit: empeiria)

Though I’ve never met him, personally, he changed my life forever. Instead of continuing my pity party, I watched his video again and if you haven’t seen it, I will post it for you here. To live like Zach, with all his grace, is a wondrous gift, to make every second count and to say his good-byes in person, with his beautiful songs is life changing. I’m not saying it was easy, no death is easy but Zach made active choices in his life and in preparation for his death and he lived every single day to the fullest. Do it now, love it now, now is what we have and appreciate what we’ve got. Zach did.

I think about his family and friends, his old girlfriend, his favorite song-writer friend and his baby sister, Grace. I think about Grace so much, her innocence, her goodness, Grace with her big older brother, losing him like a treasure in the sand. How is Gracie  doing without her “other half?” I think about his parents too. What has life been like since Zach died? I have to hold my eyes shut tight when I think of Mom and Dad to try not to cry, because I remember them, especially Mom, sitting on the couch talking about her boy. What about the older siblings, how must they be feeling, how are they now? I think Zach aluded to Laura and her Faith and I hope that has helped her, his older brother was left more of a question mark, quiet, loving but private.  Mom and Dad, I pray for you, no one should have to bury their child.

Zach, I must have played your song thousands of times, to appreciate you, to keep me on my tracks, to learn from you. When I worry in anticipation I think about you and how you handled having cancer with grace (not literally but I’m sure you can see the humor) and love and respect.

You are  gone in physical life, but there’s no doubt in my mind that you are spiritually with us, with your family. I hope they get signs from you,  I’m sure they would love that and I do believe it is possible. I know it is possible.  I hope they believe it too so they can be comforted by your presence. You were an angel on earth, I know you are an angel in heaven. How could you not be? You taught us all how to die peacefully, how to choose when to die instead of prolonging your life with a horrible operation just for a few months. Being a mom, I respect your parents so much for doing the right thing, and it WAS the right thing, to let you do what you want.

I hope everyone has recovered just a bit from the shock. Because as much as you try to be prepared for death, it’s always a horrible, dreadful surprise, no matter when it happens. Trust me, I do know. But, this is not about me, it’s about you.

I send my prayers to your family and to your close friends, and to you dear Zach I send my love and my thanks for teaching us, those still here on earth what it means to be an angel.

photo credit> emperia

In Between Love and Loss

Love Hands (Photo credit: Luvinshots)

Love is not easy, but it is essential. Why do we all go on with our lives? Day after day shuffling our feet, not smiling sometimes for weeks or months, nothing to look forward to, nothing special on the horizon? With so much misery, disease, tragedy, war, incurable illnesses why do we accept it?  It comes down to one thing and one thing only: Love. You don’t need a crowd of people to love you, it can be one person or one quirky brown dog, or a petulant cat, maybe a goldfish named Frank, or wildflowers in a garden. We live for love. That is the ultimate dream and if you love one friend and the person loves you back you are incredibly lucky. Everything counts.

Love keeps us going when we want to give up, there’s a thread of love that inspired this blog from my friends. There is love between a group of friends and we have never met, there is a closeness, whose hearts and souls connected on a higher level. We may have originally gotten to know each other by our chronic illnesses, auto-immune diseases or fibromyalgia but that is the last thing we talk about now. If we lived closer to one another, they would be my safe place, my soul sisters.  We offer peace, love and kindness to each other, there is no judgment, just support.

I’m not unrealistic I know love isn’t always about happiness, when you love someone so much and they die or move away or just because they grow up and relationships change. Nobody tells you that when you are pregnant, that love also hurts, that love is also loss. Even if they told you, you wouldn’t believe them anyway. When you love your children so much and they walk away as strong, independent adults you are very proud but sometimes, if you are honest, it really hurts. Is it rational? No. It’s purely emotional.

I respect and admire both my children. But, part of love brings with it a searing unavoidable pain and there is nothing you can do about it. Without pain, we wouldn’t know how wonderful love really is.  The thread of love, twists and changes, every single day and night. You can’t control it, you can only change yourself and how you deal with the changes, like the waves of a turbulent ocean, strong, beautiful, unpredictable. Unconditional love is for children, it never ends, and I’m sure our children will not understand until they have grown up children of their own.

One day you are holding their hands to cross the street, trading toy cars or having a tea party, watching a shiny red fire truck, or playing dress-up and the next day, or so it seems, they are adults. They are adults you are proud of and cherish but they have their own lives now, and you are not the biggest part of it.  “Home” is someplace different now and just because they have a week off doesn’t mean they want to see you. First it’s a shock, then it’s a change but you get used to everything. This was never about guilt. I don’t want you to change for “the next time.”  I wanted you to let it go. Growing up sometimes means you can’t always have the last word and sometimes it means letting things go, if not for you, than for me.

“End of conversation. No new conversation.”

I love you, unconditionally with all my heart

Matchbox Toy Cars (Photo credit: sarflondondunc)

(Photograph credit by photographers listed, I own no rights)

Rediscovering Life, Self And The Magnificent Tracy Chapman.

Let It Rain (Tracy Chapman album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This year I’ve learned many things, mostly about myself. Because this is timely I thought I would share this first: I will wear white clothes after Labor Day if I want to and if I receive a look of disgust I will throw my head back and laugh. If you dislike it that is your problem not mine.

Instead of pressuring my children to come home for their college breaks (which has never been my style) I want them to do what THEY want and whatever they want to do is fine. I do have expectations, I want to see them on Thanksgiving and Christmas. It would be wonderful to see them on my birthday or any other time but they are in college and have exams, I totally understand. Any other time I see them is icing on the cake.

Speaking of…No matter how old I  get, I can’t stop looking forward to my birthday, I’ll be 57  in October and my age doesn’t bother me, nor do the gray hairs that live with my brown curly hair in harmony. Or the laugh lines around my sometimes mischievous green eyes, I’ve earned them, I don’t try to hide them and maybe one day I will learn how to use make-up, but no promises. Lipstick counts, right? That, I wear.

Today I saw a brown bunny skip across the street and the leaves on one tree were starting to turn to that first blush of orange. That is the beginning of the end of summer. It’s going to be a very, very cold winter, it’s always a longer and colder winter than anticipated. I keep my eye on the future hoping we can move someplace warm in the future.

Today I saw my deceased dad’s initials on a white van in front of the drugstore and I couldn’t speak, his initials are signs from him to me, have been for eleven years. This one was a message to pass on to my mom and I will, at the right time. I’ll know when that day comes. Thank you Daddy.

I am not ashamed at all of my Psychic or my Empath abilities, I don’t brag about them, I don’t keep them a secret. They are just a private, integral part of me and I feel blessed to have them. I was a child when I had my first encounter walking down the street in my old neighborhood and thinking about how it would feel if you could read someone’s mind. It lay dormant for years until I was ready. I was always super-sensitive but it worked to my disadvantage before I could use it to help others. Empath intuitives, we understand each other. If anyone has more information about Empath Intuitives or can point me in the right direction, I’d love to hear about it.

I’ve rediscovered the joy of Tracy Chapman’s incredibly beautiful, soulful voice.  Her voice is one of the most amazing voices I have heard and I am sad that I forgot her or did she leave us on purpose? In any case, I’m glad I found her again. Her voice, simple, complex, made of velvet and silk.  Tracy, you get the feeling, would be a lovely friend, kind, maybe shy at first. The richness of her voice like honey. Here’s to the sad ending of the summer, for me, and the joyous start of winter, for others.