definition of resiliancy
Dr. Suess
"And will you succeed? Yes indeed! Yes indeed! Ninety Eight and Three Quarters guarenteed!"
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Classes
Well, this semester is certainly going to be interesting. Taking the same psychology professor with the idea of "knowing what to expect" backfired! Her social psych class is far more detailed, and has more work than Dev. Psych. (I thought she was a passionate instructor about Developmental Psych ... however compared with her passion for Social Psych, she paled by comparisson. This, is a good thing)
My nutrition class is going to be difficult, both work wise and emotionally. I expected a class that was a biology based class on Nutrition (description of class gave me that idea, it's a biology course) However, this class is SO personalized. It does not seem to be about nutrition in general, however, but about MY nutritional habits, etc. Today, I skipped class deciding that I was not going to do the body fat analysis in front of the whole class. Just too personal of information and quite frankly, none of my classmates business!
I'm not quite sure that it's my professors business, nutrition class or not. She's not my medical team, my eating disorder treatment team, she is my PROFESSOR. Having my body fat/weight and other medical information is really quite intrusive.
All the nutrition classes at the school do it this way. It's too late for me to drop out without complications from financial aide.
My Sociology class is going to be quite the ride. zzzzzzzzzz wake me when it's over please!! Lecture only and no class discussion or interaction between students and professor. Top that off with 3/4 of what he says makes no sense (if I'd not read the book, I'd have NO idea what he was trying to get acrossed!) and then he says "OK?" at the end of every sentence! To keep myself focused (literally) I tag marked each and every OK on Tuesday's lecture ... 170 OK?'s in one hour!!! Seriously! That's the ones I caught! It did help me stay focused on what he was saying, because he's very easy to tone out.
He hit some buttons too ... first he says "NEVER ever generalize or use stereotypes"
Then he calls the class "kids"
He then informed the class that none of 'you kids' remember not having cell phones, microwaves and you don't even know what a cassette is!
Um ... dude ... (yes, I used dude because he's so young and drove me nuts) I remember when we got our first microwave, I remember black and white TV, and I was graduated from high school before I ever laid eyes on a VCR (beta!). Cell phones, no, not everyone has one, despite your comment that 'absolutely everybody these days have a cell phone' and please please please stop assuming that we are all the same, with the same memories and same desires ...there are 18 to at least 44 year olds (me) in the class and I know ages inbetween (my friend Teresa, age 32 is in the class with me) (by the way, we got our microwave the year Teresa was born, I was in junior high)
ARGH! And top it off, the BIGGEST event to effect american SOCIETY and especially politics in MY lifetime (born after Kennedy's assasination) happened yesterday and you (an african american professor) didn't even MENTION it
Ok ... then algebra, same class I did so poorly in last semester. Off to a good start so far, really am. Hopeful. Not nearly as stressed in class or doing homework ...
oddly enough, Algebra may prove to be my favorite class this semester, how twisted would that be?
My nutrition class is going to be difficult, both work wise and emotionally. I expected a class that was a biology based class on Nutrition (description of class gave me that idea, it's a biology course) However, this class is SO personalized. It does not seem to be about nutrition in general, however, but about MY nutritional habits, etc. Today, I skipped class deciding that I was not going to do the body fat analysis in front of the whole class. Just too personal of information and quite frankly, none of my classmates business!
I'm not quite sure that it's my professors business, nutrition class or not. She's not my medical team, my eating disorder treatment team, she is my PROFESSOR. Having my body fat/weight and other medical information is really quite intrusive.
All the nutrition classes at the school do it this way. It's too late for me to drop out without complications from financial aide.
My Sociology class is going to be quite the ride. zzzzzzzzzz wake me when it's over please!! Lecture only and no class discussion or interaction between students and professor. Top that off with 3/4 of what he says makes no sense (if I'd not read the book, I'd have NO idea what he was trying to get acrossed!) and then he says "OK?" at the end of every sentence! To keep myself focused (literally) I tag marked each and every OK on Tuesday's lecture ... 170 OK?'s in one hour!!! Seriously! That's the ones I caught! It did help me stay focused on what he was saying, because he's very easy to tone out.
He hit some buttons too ... first he says "NEVER ever generalize or use stereotypes"
Then he calls the class "kids"
He then informed the class that none of 'you kids' remember not having cell phones, microwaves and you don't even know what a cassette is!
Um ... dude ... (yes, I used dude because he's so young and drove me nuts) I remember when we got our first microwave, I remember black and white TV, and I was graduated from high school before I ever laid eyes on a VCR (beta!). Cell phones, no, not everyone has one, despite your comment that 'absolutely everybody these days have a cell phone' and please please please stop assuming that we are all the same, with the same memories and same desires ...there are 18 to at least 44 year olds (me) in the class and I know ages inbetween (my friend Teresa, age 32 is in the class with me) (by the way, we got our microwave the year Teresa was born, I was in junior high)
ARGH! And top it off, the BIGGEST event to effect american SOCIETY and especially politics in MY lifetime (born after Kennedy's assasination) happened yesterday and you (an african american professor) didn't even MENTION it
Ok ... then algebra, same class I did so poorly in last semester. Off to a good start so far, really am. Hopeful. Not nearly as stressed in class or doing homework ...
oddly enough, Algebra may prove to be my favorite class this semester, how twisted would that be?
Monday, January 12, 2009
looking back
One of the things I've come to realize over the last several months (couple of years?) is that things aren't always what we percieve them to be at the time.
I'm the queen of denial .. I think that has been my survival for many a year (decade?) and for one reason or another, it doesn't work anymore. Along with the failure of denial for current time and place ... has come an enlightenment of past events in my life. A clarity of what I actually went through.
When I was first urged (read forced) to go into therapy by my primary care doc, the psychiatrist immediately diagnosed me with an eating disorder and post traumatic stress disorder. I was shocked as could be that they had the NERVE to diagnose the eating disorder! But totally confused at the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder!!
What? ME? WHY?
The second appointment, it was the first question out of my mouth ..what is this and why?
He looked at me like I'd asked him if he was human. (could you ask a more obvious question???) He took a couple of moments, took a couple of breaths, started to talk a couple of times but had to stop and then finally said "why do you think you Don't have it?"
I asked him "just what have I been through that has been so traumatic?"
He looked at me again like he was stunned. "Do you not think that finding your step father after he'd committed suicide was traumatic?"
"Oh"
I let the subject drop.
I'd been asked in my 'evaluation' about 'ALL TRAUMATIC EVENTS' ...but it probably took 5 years of therapy for them to come tumbling out.
It was about 3 or 4 months into it when something was mentioned about my 2 pregnancies. I said "3"
"Three? you have 2 sons"
"yes, but I lost a baby at 20 weeks, a girl"
Again with the stunned look.
"Peggikaye, that .. had to have been traumatic, do you really not realize how traumatized you've been?"
Time went on, and secrets slipped out, most of them traumas.
When I started therapy I told them I'd had a happy childhood, secure and balanced. I realize now that was my very rose colored glasses ...looking back in my denial because I didn't want to, or couldn't handle the truth.
The realization that ... I went to 12 schools between kindergarten and 12th grade ...not exactly secure.
Recently, I've been in contact with the step mother that I had from age 13 months to age 25. She put in that letter that I had one of the hardest, most traumatic lives that she could imagine. (HUH??? WHAT?) She admired how strong I was, and that she wasn't surprised that I was seeking the truth now, because that is who I was as a child ...always the truth seeker.
I did come to the realization about a year and a half ago that my childhood was far more difficult than I'd let myself believe. I really don't think I knew why. Recently, I think I've figured out that I thought ..if I admited it was tough while my step father was alive ...did that make him a bad dad. (answer, no) But somehow, I had to paint, in my mind, that life with Daddy was all roses and picnics ... when in fact there was a reason I see him as my refuge and safety ...because ... I often needed to take refuge and safety in a world that was often chaotic, and empty and cruel.
It has painted a lot of who I am. But if I don't get at the truth, the real truth, then I don't think I can continue growing into who I want to be.
I wrote a poem once, I've put in on here many times ..but it's so true ..will I ever become who I am supposed to be if I'm hiding behind a mask who is not me? (paraphrased)
I'm the queen of denial .. I think that has been my survival for many a year (decade?) and for one reason or another, it doesn't work anymore. Along with the failure of denial for current time and place ... has come an enlightenment of past events in my life. A clarity of what I actually went through.
When I was first urged (read forced) to go into therapy by my primary care doc, the psychiatrist immediately diagnosed me with an eating disorder and post traumatic stress disorder. I was shocked as could be that they had the NERVE to diagnose the eating disorder! But totally confused at the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder!!
What? ME? WHY?
The second appointment, it was the first question out of my mouth ..what is this and why?
He looked at me like I'd asked him if he was human. (could you ask a more obvious question???) He took a couple of moments, took a couple of breaths, started to talk a couple of times but had to stop and then finally said "why do you think you Don't have it?"
I asked him "just what have I been through that has been so traumatic?"
He looked at me again like he was stunned. "Do you not think that finding your step father after he'd committed suicide was traumatic?"
"Oh"
I let the subject drop.
I'd been asked in my 'evaluation' about 'ALL TRAUMATIC EVENTS' ...but it probably took 5 years of therapy for them to come tumbling out.
It was about 3 or 4 months into it when something was mentioned about my 2 pregnancies. I said "3"
"Three? you have 2 sons"
"yes, but I lost a baby at 20 weeks, a girl"
Again with the stunned look.
"Peggikaye, that .. had to have been traumatic, do you really not realize how traumatized you've been?"
Time went on, and secrets slipped out, most of them traumas.
When I started therapy I told them I'd had a happy childhood, secure and balanced. I realize now that was my very rose colored glasses ...looking back in my denial because I didn't want to, or couldn't handle the truth.
The realization that ... I went to 12 schools between kindergarten and 12th grade ...not exactly secure.
Recently, I've been in contact with the step mother that I had from age 13 months to age 25. She put in that letter that I had one of the hardest, most traumatic lives that she could imagine. (HUH??? WHAT?) She admired how strong I was, and that she wasn't surprised that I was seeking the truth now, because that is who I was as a child ...always the truth seeker.
I did come to the realization about a year and a half ago that my childhood was far more difficult than I'd let myself believe. I really don't think I knew why. Recently, I think I've figured out that I thought ..if I admited it was tough while my step father was alive ...did that make him a bad dad. (answer, no) But somehow, I had to paint, in my mind, that life with Daddy was all roses and picnics ... when in fact there was a reason I see him as my refuge and safety ...because ... I often needed to take refuge and safety in a world that was often chaotic, and empty and cruel.
It has painted a lot of who I am. But if I don't get at the truth, the real truth, then I don't think I can continue growing into who I want to be.
I wrote a poem once, I've put in on here many times ..but it's so true ..will I ever become who I am supposed to be if I'm hiding behind a mask who is not me? (paraphrased)
Friday, January 09, 2009
Sara Groves - Less Like Scars
It's been a hard year
But I'm climbing out of the rubble
These lessons are hard
Healing changes are subtle
But every day it's
Less like tearing, more like building
Less like captive, more like willing
Less like breakdown, more like surrender
Less like haunting, more like remember
And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like
Character
Less like a prison, more like my room
It's less like a casket, more like a womb
Less like dying, more like transcending
Less like fear, less like an ending
And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars
Just a little while ago
I couldn't feel the power or the hope
I couldn't cope, I couldn't feel a thing
Just a little while back
I was desperate, broken, laid out, hoping
You would come
And I need you
And I want you here
And I feel you
And I know you're here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad, bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars (x3)
And more like
Character
A Post
It has been brought to my attention that I've not been posting ... whoops.
I went private so that I had the freedom TO post ...and I'm still not posting. It's not that I don't have anything to say. It's that I have too much to say.
I'm not quite sure how to get it out in a reasonable manner. I don't want pity, and I don't want people to think I'm trying to get pity. I don't know really how to find the balance between blogging to get it out ..and blogging for myself ..and not worrying about how others will take it.
There is a lot going on inside of me right now ... some extremely positive ..and some extremely negative. Some is happening in the here and now, and some is messes from my past being churned up and spit out. Both are things I need to write about. It's the writer in me.
I'm not doing myself any favors by not getting it out. I went private with the specific purpose of being able to write what I needed to write ..and then continued to be silent. *shrug*
I need to get back to writing before the things inside me overwelm me.
I went private so that I had the freedom TO post ...and I'm still not posting. It's not that I don't have anything to say. It's that I have too much to say.
I'm not quite sure how to get it out in a reasonable manner. I don't want pity, and I don't want people to think I'm trying to get pity. I don't know really how to find the balance between blogging to get it out ..and blogging for myself ..and not worrying about how others will take it.
There is a lot going on inside of me right now ... some extremely positive ..and some extremely negative. Some is happening in the here and now, and some is messes from my past being churned up and spit out. Both are things I need to write about. It's the writer in me.
I'm not doing myself any favors by not getting it out. I went private with the specific purpose of being able to write what I needed to write ..and then continued to be silent. *shrug*
I need to get back to writing before the things inside me overwelm me.
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