Running On Empty

RUNNING ON EMPTY
 

Running on empty. That is an actual picture of my fuel gauge. I seem to be running on empty in a lot of areas of my life these days. My bank account is certainly running on empty. But, there is one part of my life that has almost cease to exist entirely these days; faith. Faith in my God, faith in myself, faith in humanity. I didn’t get this way overnight. But I want to tell you how it happened.  For some of you, this will come as no surprise. For most of you, it will smack you upside the head like a two-by-four.

I am the victim of abuse. I am working toward becoming a survivor. My entire life I have been abused; physically and emotionally. And if you were to ask my counselor, he would tell you the abuse started even before I was born. You see, I was a “mistake,” an “unplanned pregnancy.” Words that, make no mistake about it, wound the spirit. In my early childhood I was beaten, sometimes until I bled, all the while my mother shouted at me. I was often told how stupid I was, despite my grades proving those types of statements to be false. In my teenage years, when the physical abuse lessened, the emotional verbal abuse increased. I was told that I would “never make it in the real world.”  I graduated near the top of my class out of nearly 400 students.  Even when I decided to return to college and finish my bachelor’s degree, some members of my family said I would never make it!

My spirit, which which makes up “me”, had been set-up for a lifetime of suffering and failure. The scars of physical abuse can heal. Emotional verbal abuse is toxic. For the receiver, it’s confusing, and often debilitating. I did not know until I was 37-years-old what the impact of a lifetime of abuse had done to me. I wasn’t even able to give “it” a name until 2009. I just always knew something wasn’t quite right. I often thought the “something” was me. Why wouldn’t I?  I had been trained to think that since before birth. I have an older sister who tells me often that my life’s failures and shortcomings are due to the choices I made. You see, I did not follow the plan my parents had set out for me. I did not do A, B, C & D…. I skipped ahead to D, then went back to B, and C. So naturally, I’m doomed to a life of failure! I’m not sure that’s the reason why life has been so difficult for me.

I married, the first time, when I was 18-years-old. He was my high school sweetheart. I loved him dearly. My family was very much against the marriage. Naturally. It wasn’t part of the great plan for my life. I had not even graduated from high school when we were married. My decision didn’t exactly get a ringing endorsement. Instead it was met with negative sentiments such as, “it will never last” and “you’re making a big mistake.” Four years later when we separated, my family was the first in line to say “I told you so” and other encouraging comments. Not one member of my family ever suggested we could make it work. Not one of them ever suggested we try marriage counseling. They were all to delighted to have been proven right. Dad is always right, don’t you know?!

It should come as no surprise that my second go-around at marriage ended in disaster. Well, that’s a lie. It actually hasn’t ended at all. It’s dying a slow and painful death. Why? Because I spent more than twelve years being abused by my soon-to-be-ex-husband. It was at the end of that twelve years that I was finally able to put a name to “it.” Verbal Abuse. It’s not as sexy as some of the others, like “domestic abuse” or “physical abuse” but it is the most common. In my case, my verbal abuser was a master of disguise. A real charmer, he waited until he had me firmly in his grasp before letting the hammer down.

Within six months of saying “I do,” what I was really thinking was, “I don’t!” I was in counseling. I was on anti-depressants. Twelve years and twelve marriage counselors later I decided enough was enough. Something, or rather, someone had to change. Much to my surprise, I found out the someone was me. My church put me in touch with a counselor who told me about “verbally abuse relationships.” And I can honestly say that’s the first time I had ever heard about it.  You mean, this lifetime of hell I’ve been living has a name?! My first verbally abusive relationship was with my parents, then my siblings, then my spouse of the past twelve years. Unbelievable.

In 2009 I joined a forum for victim of verbal abuse, for women and men going through or those who have been in verbally abusive relationships. In that forum I am anonymous. I am comfortable there. Here, on my personal blog, not so much. That comes from a lifetime of walking on eggshells around the people who are closest to me. The people I would expect to judge me the least, but end up being my greatest critics. I can just hear my mother saying right now, “What will people say?” There is a part of me that is asking the same question. What WILL people say? When I started counseling, with counselor #13, back in 2009, he told me I needed to focus on being “real” with people, being honest about my situation. I haven’t done that. Only a handful of people know the real story. Most do not.

And even those who know about the verbally abuse relationship; don’t know about the daily struggle, just to survive. The past three and half years have been the hardest of my life. Trying to stand on my own two feet, trying to heal from the years of abuse, trying to figure out who in the hell I am. From what I’ve learned, and observed, one of them major reasons victims of abuse don’t leave is out of fear; fear of not being able to make it financially. And the abusers don’t make it any easier. My stbxh doesn’t provide steady, ongoing child support for our daughter.  In the meantime, he is living with his mother, rent-free. He’s been on an all-expenses-paid vacation for the past three and half years. He would love nothing better than to see me fail, and to have to move back in with him.

That is closer to becoming a reality than I’d like to admit. But I’m trying to be real! I’m much better at helping people, than I am at asking for help for myself.

I spent my entire life savings moving to Phoenix back in 2008, trying to “live the dream.” I have $50,000 in student loan debt. I have a 19-year-old son in college. I don’t make enough money to support us. We live a modest lifestyle, I think. My 13-year-old daughter and I live in a two-bedroom four-plex. It was the cheapest place I could find and still get her into one of Bakersfield’s best school districts. Having access to a good education for my children has always been my top priority. Making sure they don’t hear those same, ugly, debilitating messages is also a big priority. How best to make my dreams for their future and for mine come to fruition, I’m not sure. I used to rely on my faith to guide me. But like I said, I’m running a little low on faith these days. If you have any to spare, send it my way.

Deliver Me

Tonight's blog post is brought to you by: self-loathing.

I'm trying to wrap my mind around a certain set of circumstances and I hear myself cry out, God, deliver me! Now, mind you, conversations between me and the Lord, granted, they are mostly one-sided, are not uncommon. On a near daily basis I ask the Almighty for several things: to deliver me from financial stresses, to deliver me the perfect man (not a perfect man, just the perfect man for me) and for his continued blessings on my family. Yes, I said continued. I am not blind to the fact that despite my current state in life, I am blessed beyond measure.  Far better off than some, not as much as others.  One thing I do not, under any circumstances every ask Him for: patience! Bleh! Yet He has seen fit to throw patience upon me in heaps. Lord, I don't mean to sound unthankful, but... I don't want it! Return to sender! I'm done with patience! Finished! I've practiced patience aplenty; all I could ever need, and then some! I don't need the patience of a flat tire! Though I am thankful it was only a few blocks from home and not in the middle of nowhere. And even more grateful for the stranger who noticed me sobbing in my car, and carefully approached me with her offer to help, restoring my faith that there are still good people in the world. Oh, I get it now. The lesson wasn't patience... the lesson was learning to reach out to others for help! Somewhere in the Good Book I'm sure it is written that I should expect great things, and great things will come. Expect nothing, get nothing. Right? He has great things planned for me. Lord, I am ready to take delivery!

Lord, Deliver Me... deliver me from the worldly things that cause me stress, they are only temporary and not worth the trouble.... deliver me someone to share my life with.. and deliver me your continued blessings so that I can be a blessing to others.

Perception IS Reality

Let me say it again, perception IS reality. If I learned nothing else in all of those college communication courses; I learned that perception is reality. With that being said and hopefully understood, let me dive right into the topic that's got me fired up today.  By now I'm sure most of you have seen it on the news; this disturbing video of a stepfather beating his stepson with a belt. The incident was caught on camera by a neighbor as the stepfather and the young boy were playing catch in their backyard. It would appear from the video that the boy's punishment for not catching the ball was a swift lashing with his stepfather's belt. The boys grandfather says it was for being "mouthy." What has been seen on TV is an abbreviated version of an incident that lasted more than seven minutes. The beating stopped when the neighbor video taping it finally stepped in and said something.

How parents discipline their children can be a polarizing topic. Many come from the school-of-thought that "if it was good enough for me, it's good enough for them." Meaning, for people my age to have been hit with a belt is a common tale of woe.  For folks my parents age, it is even more so. We are under the impression that because we turned out "okay" after having been disciplined by the belt that it is an acceptable form of punishment.  It isn't!

Research on the long-term effects of spanking continue to emerge.  I think as its victims grow older and are forced to come to terms with the damage, we'll learn more and become more aware of the problems, both long-term and short-term, that corporal punishment causes on the human psyche.  An article published back in March talks about a recent study on spanking and its link to "adverse outcomes in children and teens." There have been several studies on the matter as of late, and one need not look further than Google to find a reputable resource on the subject.

I was watching CNN last night.  Host Don Lemon was talking to his guest, comedian Louie Anderson about this hot topic. Anderson, a victim of childhood abuse, had this to say: Abuse is the source of everything that is wrong with the world.  Be it physical, or verbal, or emotional, or some other form of abuse.  Louie Anderson got it right. And when the rest of the world "gets it" we'll be headed in a much better direction. 
   

Cover Girl

I recently joined a group on Facebook, "I Want To Be in TIME." As in TIME magazine. And sure enough, I went to my mailbox today, pulled out the latest edition of TIME, and there I was... on the cover of TIME. It's very cool. Something to tell the grand kids about. I'm going to buy copies and autograph them for all of my family members. I'm also going to frame a copy for myself. It's my fifteen minutes of fame, and I'm taking full advantage.

Welcome To Wal-Mart

Many companies have been downsizing and outsourcing. There's no breaking news in that statement. Some of the outsourcing is taking place right under our noses. Wal-Mart, for example; Some of the jobs previously done by their employees, are now done by the customer. I think it started with those nifty scanners scattered throughout the store, the ones that will scan a bar code and check the price of an item. How convenient. How thoughtful of Wal-Mart to give customers access to that. That's one less employee they need to hire. That persons job, doing price-checks and providing customer service, has now been outsourced, to you, the consumer. Then came "self-checkout." What a great concept. Who wants to stand in line when you can quickly and easily check-out on your own. The problem with that is; it's not always easy. God forbid something should go wrong, like an item was scanned twice. Now you need the super-secret code to remove the item from your total. So your stuck waiting for the elusive Wal-Mart employee to come and rescue you from "self-checkout" hell. And that's not my only beef with self-checkout. I'm also unloading my cart and bagging my own goods. All in the name of self-checkout. I'm paying to be my own checker, my own cashier. Let me repeat that; I'm paying to unload my shopping cart, scan the items I'm purchasing, bag said items, and put the bags back in my shopping cart. Talk about outsourcing! So, needless to say, I forgo the self-checkout as much as possible. I want to be waited on. But even then, much of the customer service has gone by the wayside. I still have to put my items on the conveyor belt and put the bags back in my shopping cart. There is a very rare occasion when I'll run into a checker who's willing to go above and beyond the call of duty and will take the time to put my bags in my cart. So, a couple of days ago I was standing in line at Wal-Mart, already irritated because it was 5 o'clock and there were only 4 lanes open. There were two people ahead of me, a man behind me, and a woman behind him. The cashier literally yelled at the man behind me, "Sir, could you tell that woman she's my last customer." WHAT?? AS IF!!! She should probably be glad she didn't ask me, because I would have responded with, "Yes, for a fee."

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Do you remember taking a hearing test, back in grade school. They put those gigantic headphones over your ears, then asked you to raise your hand, right or left, according to which side to you heard the beeping sound in. Think about that beeping sound. Or imagine what it sounds like when you get that occasional ringing in your ear. Think about what that sounds like. Now imagine hearing that sound all of the time. 24/7. That's what life is like living with chronic tinnitus.

I've been living with chronic tinnitus in my right ear since October 2002. I had hosted the BINGO booth at my sons elementary school fall festival the night before it happened. I woke up in the middle of the night with the most intense ear pain I've ever experienced. By the next morning I had lost the hearing in both of my ears. After several weeks of antibiotics, anti-virals, steroids, etc., the hearing in my left ear was restored. However, I've never regained hearing in my right ear. And to make matters worse, chronic tinnitus set it. I sought treatment from the world renowned House Ear Institute in Los Angeles, CA. I was devastated when the doctor told me I had sensorineural hearing loss. He also told me if it's going to be reversed, if my hearing is going to return, it is likely to do so within a few weeks. It had already been six months.

At 28 years old, having just decided to go back to school and in my second semester as a returning student, I'd lost the hearing in my right ear and was suffering with chronic tinnitus. You're thinking, I should be thankful! It could have been worse. At least I still have hearing in one ear. And all of those things are right. But I wasn't thankful. I had to learn to adapt to my new disability. Learning to always sit to the right side of a person, or the right side of a classroom. Learning to lip-read. Social situations, that in the past I enjoyed, I now dread. Take a lot of voices, one bad ear, mix it with chronic tinnitus and you end up with one stressed out person.

It's not only that my one good ear is trying to compensate for the bum ear, but it's also trying to hear over the chronic tinnitus. It's the tinnitus that drives me crazy. Especially at night, when I'm trying to go to sleep. I always have to have a radio, or other white noise, to keep my brain from focusing on the ringing. Sometimes the ringing is so loud and intense, it amazes me that other people in the room can't hear it. I've often been laying in bed next to my husband, the ringing piercing through my head, and I'll say, "Can you hear that?" I've even pulled his head next to mine, ear to ear, certain that he'd be able to hear the ringing. But he doesn't. No one does. This is a case where it really is, all in my head!

The night before last I woke up around 1 o'clock in the morning and I noticed something; no ringing. None. I sat there for a few minutes, listening for the ringing, but all I heard was the radio. I heard it; crystal clear. I grabbed my cell phone and called my voice mail; I wanted to hear what a talking voice sounded like without the ringing. I could hear it! I called my sister. "Sherry, are you awake!" Thank God she was. After I hung up the phone I sent a text message to my husband and told him about the 'miracle' that had occurred. Then I laid there in my bed, listening to the radio until I fell asleep.

When I woke up in the morning, the ringing was back. If I had known it was only temporary, I would have stayed up all night, enjoying the sound of silence.

On FTD... and I don't mean the florist!

Frontotemporal Dementia... according to the UCSF Memory and Aging Center... is a group of related conditions resulting from the progressive degeneration of the temporal and frontal lobes of the brain. These areas of the brain play a significant role in decision-making, behavior control, emotion and language. FTD is less common than Alzheimer's. There is nothing to stop or slow the progression of this disease.

Today was our family conference with a doctor at the Alzheimer's and Memory Center in Fresno. My mother's diagnosis of FTD was confirmed. In short, the mother that I had grown to love is gone... and she is never coming back! She is already exhibiting many of the symptoms of Phase 2 Dementia, and a few of Phase 3; the terminal phase.

The doctor said "these processes tend to exaggerate old behaviors." This pains me greatly because it was those old behaviors that caused my mother and I not to be close in the first place.

But over the past 10 years our relationship evolved into something truly wonderful, as we bonded over motherhood and other common interests. In a matter of months, as her health has deteriorated, so to has our relationship. My only prayer now is that I will have the strength and wisdom to see my mother through this season of her life.