To those we hate to have loved (and trusted).

"my life is very complex right now," says the man who was screwing with my brain when he was supposed to be my champion.

You have no f*@% idea.

that word is coming out...

Which means I am struggling more than I care to let on in realtime.

I am angry. I am tired of being treated with so little regard. I am tired of knowing too much and having to fight for the most minimal of fair treatment. I am tired of being ignored and unheard. I am tired of being expected to be what everyone else needs me to be. 

I am angry that people at Utah State University are being as stupid, disrespectful, bigoted as they are. I am shocked by the police chief, captain, and officers there. Shocked. I understand now why people want to defund the police. 

I am angry for injustices others have suffered. I want to scream until I am heard.

And those damned images just keep coming back, a symptom of rejection, and what society is feeding.

Trapped.

I feel trapped and I am so damn mad at Dr He. The creator of my demise. 

I have a million times changed my perspective and come at it all from different angles. I went to school with high hopes, faith, and the most confidence I could muster only to have it turn into the shit that it has.

Bad people. USU, Cache county, has a lot of bad people. 

too many...

I used to think that people were basically good... But now I know otherwise. They are corrupt, ignorant, unkind, deceitful, and lemming like. A witch hunt. A a band wagon. That is what they resort to, excited by the prospect of drama, but not real drama, only one families trauma, that they deep down know is safe to attack so they can pretend to be hero's by bullying... Utah State University, what a great school (that is sarcasm, in case you did not pick up on that). 

tired.

not broken...

but entirely broken.

hurt

angry

lonely,

sad

denied

rejected

reduced

I hate you Dr. He, because you made my life so much more complex than it needed to be and when it already was. Are you proud? of how you screwed up my brain, of how you had more control than I ever allowed you to have and in spite of my resistance? Are you happy to know that I still struggle to keep you out of my head and that piercing shards of you still remain in my heart? Or are you disappointed that I did not die for you and/or because of you?  

Dr. He, the most deceitful person I have ever let into my heart, Are you proud? 

I am more than you ever deserved and more than you will ever know. Someday you will cease to exist and I will no longer long or wish for resolve of the lies you told, planted and nourished. I will, someday, break free of this and your name will be as benign and obsolete as it is to the rest of the world... Some day...

and what a sad thing, your existence as obsolete, insignificant, and unimportant as you have made me to be. 

So Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas, Someday I will break free. 

and Same to you USU, the University of Bigotry 

 *7/25/21- update: Name changed... refer to blog entry from today 7/25/21

The Little Red Hen and other fairly common tails of bigotry.

 Blog it out. That is what I feel like doing in this moment. Instead of closing my eyes again.

"Who will help me...?" Asked the Little Red Hen.

"Not I."

"Not I." 

"Not I."

"Then I will do it myself," said the Little Red Hen. And she did.

That is how I feel right now. There are laws, there are rules, there are constitutions that should have and should still be protecting myself and my son who made that pesky phone call. There are... but trying to have your rights protected when those in power have decided yours don't count, is very difficult. 

But that is my job now. It is a big part of why I wanted to get that master's or PhD in psychology, to help end such blatant and damaging discrimination and bigotry... To walk away from this fight I give up my rights and agree to the devaluing, degrading, and damaging not just of myself but of my son and of others who have similar disabilities or that have been discriminated against in similar ways. 

It is not okay. It is not Okay for me to be criminally charged because a professor was treating me bad enough to trigger PTSD and to upset a kid enough that the kid felt he needed to fight back. 

The culture of victim shaming and blaming being fully supported and upheld by Utah State University and Cache County prosecuting attorneys -who actually did not even have jurisdiction over the situation. It should have gone to the Juvenile Courts and the Utah Legal Code: "(2) The Legislature finds it is necessary to provide child victims and child witnesses with additional consideration and different treatment than that usually afforded to adults. The treatment should ensure that children's participation in the criminal justice process be conducted in the most effective and least traumatic, intrusive, or intimidating manner."
https://le.utah.gov/xcode/Title77/Chapter37/C77-37_1800010118000101.pdf

Utah State University's false allegations of me made my son a victim and he was clearly a witness. Wad he treated according to Utah Code? No, this clearly did not happen. 

At all. Instead the pursued the most intrusive, intimidation and traumatic for both the kid and his family. 

And that is just one violation by Utah State University and the Utah State University Police. 

It is mind boggling to me that they would proceed in such a way as to cause irreversible damage to me when they knew it was not me that made the call and that it was a kid. It is weird to me that people would suspect that I put the kid up to it, especially if you look at and consider the circumstances and how I was handling the situation. 

But bigotry and prejudices create a lot of weird misconceptions about people. 

Yesterday I read, in the APA journal, about how the field of psychology prides itself in being scientific and its scientific research, but that psychology in the US is to US oriented and thus cannot be generalized to the broader world population.

...Big Sigh...

Maybe the real problem is the way we look at and approach scientific research and how we use it to overgeneralize. 

"anomaly" 

"outlier"

"You present well"

 I don't fit the generalized findings of research.... Of course I don't. I don't want to. I am human and an individual. Not a number, not the summery of generalized and overgeneralized findings. 

Science and the scientific approach psychologists value so much according to the APA demand discrimination, yet discrimination destroys individuals, communities, etc. and we know this

Jumping again now my brain is wanting to scream about the whole "mental illness" label. It's a condescending and degrading term that does not apply to people who are carefully, conscientiously, and successfully managing their psychological and physiological mental differences. It's why I am slightly angry with the gays; because they abandoned the rest of us with this degrading term and doing so has actually increased the overgeneralized condescension of the term...

Sigh... sigh...

Maybe I will go close my eyes again... because they are starting to leek. 

Extending tolerance and compassion

Not many reads for determined little weeds

but that's just how it is for us 

when we are perceived as nothing more than weeds.

And that's not what I came on to write but I'm a bit discouraged by the numbers that stay so very low... even though

I keep fighting to get and stay ahead

of my broken head

that is discriminated against and held against me

by the very people who should know better and are in the positions to create positive change. 

Yet, the harder I try the more it is used against me. Sometimes it really seems that people have no idea and are so very ignorant about how harsh, intolerant and mistreating they really are. Sometimes I do wish my "disabilities" were more visible and better understood. I wish they were part of the trendy disadvantages, like certain (and only certain) races and and physiological problems are.

But they are not. So moving one

Brazil man. I told the story about him and what I learned to a small group the other day. I admitted that I felt guilt and shame for my own personal biases and prejudices, my misunderstanding, misconceptions and even discrimination of him. "Don't beat your self up," on of the group members tell me. 

I don't. My referencing guilt and shame is what has this group member and others concerned when I tell them I felt it. Anyone that knows me knows that I was not likely as unkind or unfair as many others would be. But that does not matter, I was not as kind and fair as I like to be and feel I should have and could have been. But the bigger concern I have in this moment with that group is the misunderstanding of guilt and shame. So I explain:

Guilt and shame have there place and that was an appropriate time for me to feel it. I am glad that I did.  I am glad that I felt it because it means I was aware and that I have a conscience. Feeling it caused me to reflect on the situation. It let me know that I did something wrong or that went against my core values and beliefs. It caused me to analyze the situation and by doing so I was able to recognize how deeply entrenched the biases, misconceptions, prejudices and discriminations are in the societies and cultures I come from and how deeply entrenched they were in me. It helped me see some of the harmful errors in our USA ways. It helped me to confront my own biases and discriminating actions against not only this man but others and even against my own self. 

This situation helped me to make a choice, then and there and multiple times since, about how I perceive and treat others who are labeled as "crazy," about how I treat myself, and about how and what I do to help bring about changes... 

which I suppose is ultimately why I am sad about the low numbers and the losses of opportunities that have come as a result of those exact problems with our USA culture -because of those those deeply engrained and deeply entrenched biases, prejudices,  misunderstandings, misconceptions, stigmas and discriminating practices.

Sometimes this burden makes my head heavy and tired and my eyes taught with sight blurring liquid. The burden actually exacerbating symptoms of the disability that I have... and I often find myself wishing that Pride month extended to all of us who have had to carry those labels of "mentally ill" and that have been discriminated against and ostracized for those conditions that kind of set us apart.   

For the record, I am no more or less "ill" than a homosexual. The difference is that my conditions are still labeled, officially and otherwise, as "mental illness," and I am still perceived to be, labeled as such, and heavily discriminated against for it, much like gays were just a few years ago. 

But I am not alone in this. I am speaking for many kind and valuable people who are silenced more than you care to know and are used, abused, ostracized, stigmatized, overgeneralized about and lumped into categories that we do not belong in.... so many heartbreaking and devastating stories I know but that are not mine to share. So I share mine and give you permission to share mine as well. Not because I am "self promoting" but because I want to help people and I want deep and meaningful changes to happen on individual and societal and cultural levels. 

So this month as you challenge your views and perceptions of others who may have different ideas, values, beliefs about sexuality and gender please consider challenging your views and others about people with very real physiological conditions and disadvantages that are still labeled as "mental illnesses" and still significantly misrepresented, misunderstood and heavily discriminated against when they are trying to work through their conditions and learning how to adapt and live with them. It's not easy and we also need love, acceptance, tolerance and compassion. 

Thank you for taking the time to read. 

Determined little weeds

I want to blog about these pretty little things. 

Like this short sweet little guy found in my yard

  And these unusually tall versions found in the shady and plant crowded foothills of the mountains by me. 

Look close, there are a few, and they are very tall. 

 I especially loved the tenacity, determination and resilience shown by this particular sweetie as it stretched and reached anyway it possibly could to reach sunlight; a resource it needs to survive. 

That is what I wanted to blog about. And it does fit but something more is haunting again... and it is so, literally, exhausting. I had dreams about dreams and hauntings of the He who would not let me be what I really was but instead turned me into a perceived liability... 

Hauntings. Dream disturbances. Dreams of dreams and trying to figure out in my dreams which experiences were real and which were previous dreams... I lived a lot of lives in those days but some were merely dreams. Waking up already depleted and defeated again. Dr. She says that is PTSD. 

Okay. 

But why? Why must I be made out to be a bad guy when I was/am trying my hardest to #1 get the help I need, and #2 trying to help bring about positive changes for others so they can get the help they need. 

And there is a #3 to it to that hurts due to how ignored and discredited I have been for it, #3 trying to help and protect even those that caused the harm to me. 

PTSD... It's weird.

So is mania

and TBI

and the lasting effects those have on yourself and your relationships.

But today I am not as sad as my dreams want me to feel. I am happy, strong and confident because that is what I am determined to be. It's just a matter of stretching and reaching for the sunlight and resources I need. 

...but... it's still hard. and it still hurts... Especially when I have to go through all of those messy records to try and get the resources I actually am supposed to be "entitled" to. 

Stretch and reach. Stretch and reach. I have done it before and I can do it again. 

slipping

 I feel myself slipping into depression. I don't want to and I am trying to fight it, to stay afloat... I am tired. and part of me wants to allow myself to slip into oblivion. What am I actually fighting for? If I am fighting alone? 

This is how, why and when we lose. 

But right now I have to keep fighting because I have kids. Kids that would hurt and be angry. Kids that might blame themselves...

So "fight harder" I hear Dr. She say to me so many months ago.

Fight harder again.... but the fight is more outside than inside anymore... and it seems to be what the world is telling me. Am I selfish for not listening? For not shutting up and disappearing the way they all want me to?

"It's a symptom" I remind myself... 

My Dad

 My dad admits that he was not always the best listener. In my younger years, high school and jr high days, sometimes we'd get into fights and then we'd go for a ride. I don't remember why or how this arrangement would actually come to pass, but I do remember that going for a ride meant he was going to stick with me as we fought through what we needed to and then we would reach some form of understanding. 

These last few days I have been worried a little about my dad. He needs time to process and it seems as if he does not want to stick it out... Is he okay? Is he suffering more than I know. I thought maybe I should show up and take him for a ride. But then he called to check in today. That is a relief. He says he is okay. He is coming around again, caring enough to stick it out even though it makes him uncomfortable. He felt bad about bringing up the emotions again for me today. "Dad they are always there, but it is much worse trying to figure it out and handle this alone and on my own." I was glad he was trying to help even if it does not feel like he is helping. 

It matters. 

We talk more. I explain a little and he starts to pick up on the depth and complexity of how things like what is happening with USU really effects people and how it has been effecting me. "Is that an issue right now?" he asked concerned about suicidal thoughts. 

"It's not suicidal thoughts," I explain, "it is the impulses that come on strong and with a vengeance through crap like this. They seem to hit each time they hit."

My dad surprises me, "Those are very scary and dangerous," he says. 

I don't know why it surprises me that he has learned to understand it so well, because it was very obvious that an impulse is what killed my younger brother and my dad's eldest son. I don't tell him that the fight with him triggered these intrusive impulsive thoughts. 

I think it is just a shocking contrast to how he perceived these issues and his understanding of such things when I was a teen. Depression was handled with, "quit feeling sorry for yourself," "suck it up" and, "get over it." If I had mentioned suicidal thoughts then I'd have been lectured for it and probably given a church type of lesson. In those years my dad would have probably told me that was stupid and I better not do something stupid like that. Or he would have ignored it and just been embraced or disappointed that I ever thought such things. Now he understands, the impulses are scary and they do not necessarily come from you - you as in who you are. They come from something else; nature, nurture, instinct, injury, chemistry, and a million messages received from external sources all rolled up into intense bursts of images and instant solutions to the fights that are constantly wearing on you. 

Impulses are dangerous. And my regulation of those is compromised because of the injury to the portion of my brain that is most efficient at handling impulses. Added external stresses, especially unjust and unnecessary, depletes my abilities to fight while triggering thoughts that directly stem from the messages they are sending; that I don't matter and they want me to go away. 

People talk big about suicide prevention... but when it comes right down to it, most do not care to learn or understand the realities and even those who are supposed to be professionally trained will carelessly and callously contribute to the triggers and messages that feed the intrusive impulsive thoughts. 

I suppose, as I reflect right now, I am glad that I had a dad that, though misguided at times, at least taught me how to push through and how to fight it out...

Half a Glass

 "I don't want you to see the glass as half empty."

Half full, half empty. I don't really care

Sometimes a cup of water is just a cup of water. Maybe it is holding 4 of the 8oz it is capable of holding. Then it is simply half a glass of water. 

Maybe it has more. Maybe less. Is it enough to meet your needs? Can it be refilled? Is it old water? good water? Is it water at all? Has it been polluted by various people washing their hands with or of it? Is it being drained and never refilled? Or left to sit alone because it's neither full nor empty? There are so many variable to consider that might be more important.

"but I am broken." Why is that a "bad" thing? Why do people insist that saying so is looking at my reality as a glass half full or empty? I'm not. It's simply a cup of water and I will use the water inside for whatever I need it for then fill it again and use it again. It's just a cup of water. Half empty or full doesn't matter, it's what I do with the water inside and it's how I use the cup.

And maybe, sometimes, the cup is broken. 

Then what good does it do to debate on whether it is half empty or half full? Because while we are debating, the water is draining because the cup is broken. 

Maybe the real fear is: what to do with a broken cup? Am I to be discarded? It seems so. When your cup breaks then you do get discarded by many, because you are broken and that is what we do with broken things. 

But my broken cup can still hold water

It just can't hold quite as much so if it is filled to full then it will inevitably lead to a leaky mess. A better analogy than you know.

Half empty, half full, broken all the way or just more than you care to accept? 

I don't really care. To me it just is what it is and I need and want to be okay with that. It would also help if others would learn this and be okay with that too. 

kintsugi