Complicated imagery
Across my faded mind
Unemployed visionary
Going back to ancient times
Dreaming of fantasies
Forgotten goals that bloomed
Waking up to reality
No rent, no heat, depression consumed
Homelessness, hunger
My angry soul cries out
My mind an empty mess
Wasn't my faith devout?
One door closes, then another and yet another
Reality slaps me in the face
Brings thoughts of chills, skills & thrills
Prostitution taking place
So sad to see
How easy my mind creates these imagries
Desperation taking it's place
Praying ernestly
To see the numerous blessing unfolding in front of me
Smile, laugh, put on a good show
Keep the pain in feeling ashamed
No one has to know
What I need is here
Right in front of me
Just beyond my grasp
While everyone wants to ask
Are you sane?
Are you happy?
Can't they see my life is crappy!
BUT OF COURSE NOT!
I would not show
It's truly no one's business
I need to grow
And remind myself that recovery is on going
There is no one sure way to truly know
My stregnth is the face I continue to show
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
First NAMI Presentation
Today was my first NAMI presentation and I was overyly excited to be speaking in front of 123 nurses at the Maryland School of Nursing. I couldn't sleep lastnight thinking about what I was going to talk about and didn't have the nerve to look at my notes from training. I sat up all night thinking about how I was going to present myself and prayed that I didn't make a fool out of myself.
When I arrived at the school I took a deep breath in as I walked down the small strip to the podium. The instructor pinned a small microphone to my sweater so that the students in the back of the classroom could hear me speak. I felt pretty important having this microphone strapped to my chest and the mobile battery back attached to my hip.
My partner Gayle was a woman with a child like voice but her presence was felt through out the room as she spoke and shared her story with the class. Me, well, I felt right at home. I felt like I was putting on my best performance for my children and their friends as I presented myself with confidence and shared my Dark Days, Acceptance, Treatment and Hopes & Dreams with a room full of nurses.
It's funny, as many times as I have had trouble with doctors not listening to what I had to say about my illness and how it affects my life if felt so incredibly good to talk with people (health care professionals) who had a genuine interest and a thirst for the knowledge of how I (as a mental health consumer) ticked! They had no preconcieved notions or ideas just their stigmatizations of what they previously thought a mental health consumer was like. I stood tall and proud as I help destroy those images in their minds to show that not all people who live with mental illness are serial killers, stalkers, rapist, etc. We look and act just like those who consider themselves "NORMAL".
My instructor once said that "Mental Illness is not for sissies!" and I agree 100%. So I'm giving myself kudos for standing in front of a crowd of strangers (doing what I do best be a DRAMA QUEEN) and sharing my story with them and in the process allowing them to understand that a book is more than it's cover!
When I arrived at the school I took a deep breath in as I walked down the small strip to the podium. The instructor pinned a small microphone to my sweater so that the students in the back of the classroom could hear me speak. I felt pretty important having this microphone strapped to my chest and the mobile battery back attached to my hip.
My partner Gayle was a woman with a child like voice but her presence was felt through out the room as she spoke and shared her story with the class. Me, well, I felt right at home. I felt like I was putting on my best performance for my children and their friends as I presented myself with confidence and shared my Dark Days, Acceptance, Treatment and Hopes & Dreams with a room full of nurses.
It's funny, as many times as I have had trouble with doctors not listening to what I had to say about my illness and how it affects my life if felt so incredibly good to talk with people (health care professionals) who had a genuine interest and a thirst for the knowledge of how I (as a mental health consumer) ticked! They had no preconcieved notions or ideas just their stigmatizations of what they previously thought a mental health consumer was like. I stood tall and proud as I help destroy those images in their minds to show that not all people who live with mental illness are serial killers, stalkers, rapist, etc. We look and act just like those who consider themselves "NORMAL".
My instructor once said that "Mental Illness is not for sissies!" and I agree 100%. So I'm giving myself kudos for standing in front of a crowd of strangers (doing what I do best be a DRAMA QUEEN) and sharing my story with them and in the process allowing them to understand that a book is more than it's cover!
Monday, October 12, 2009
Living Will
A few years ago I thought about a living will. Usually when you think about a will you think about inheriting millions of dollars (at least that's what the movies project). I thought about what I had to leave behind for my children cause Lord knows it wasn't a million dollars!
Since Shawn's passing and having to sort through her unfinished business it makes me think more about a living will. We sorted through her clothing, important papers and memorables and decided what we were going to keep that reminded us of her. I've been wearing her shoes, jewlery and hair accessories. My niece asked me why would I wear her mother's things. I explained to her that I wanted to feel close to my sister because I missed her so much. My niece told me that even though her mother was dead that she still needed her things in heaven to wear. Pretty insightful for a 7 year old! I told her that her mother would want me to wear her things so that I could feel closer to her. I promised my niece that I would not hurt or destroy her mother's things. We made sure that we set some things aside for both of my nieces (Briana & Mary) to remember their mother.
I think about what I have to leave behind for my children and grandchildren. I think about wether or not my brother would allow my children to be in control of my estate. I never thought far ahead enough to save money aside for them to have for their future. I've always struggled to take care of them so extra money was not really an option. With Shawn's death I've had to really consider death benefits (or life insurance). My boys are too old to receive my social security benefits. I think the most valuable things I have to give are my stories. The little creative parts of me that have more of me involved in them than anything else I own.
So, with this said, it's time for a little responsibility on my part. Budgeting to get life insurance so that my family is not bogged down trying to pay for the disposal of my body. Really taking stock of all of my personal liabilities as to not make my children & grandchildren be responsible for my legalities. Dividing up the few properties that I own between my children, grandchildren, siblings and my mother. It's amazing how the death of a loved one makes you stand up and take notice of your own "mad house".
Since Shawn's passing and having to sort through her unfinished business it makes me think more about a living will. We sorted through her clothing, important papers and memorables and decided what we were going to keep that reminded us of her. I've been wearing her shoes, jewlery and hair accessories. My niece asked me why would I wear her mother's things. I explained to her that I wanted to feel close to my sister because I missed her so much. My niece told me that even though her mother was dead that she still needed her things in heaven to wear. Pretty insightful for a 7 year old! I told her that her mother would want me to wear her things so that I could feel closer to her. I promised my niece that I would not hurt or destroy her mother's things. We made sure that we set some things aside for both of my nieces (Briana & Mary) to remember their mother.
I think about what I have to leave behind for my children and grandchildren. I think about wether or not my brother would allow my children to be in control of my estate. I never thought far ahead enough to save money aside for them to have for their future. I've always struggled to take care of them so extra money was not really an option. With Shawn's death I've had to really consider death benefits (or life insurance). My boys are too old to receive my social security benefits. I think the most valuable things I have to give are my stories. The little creative parts of me that have more of me involved in them than anything else I own.
So, with this said, it's time for a little responsibility on my part. Budgeting to get life insurance so that my family is not bogged down trying to pay for the disposal of my body. Really taking stock of all of my personal liabilities as to not make my children & grandchildren be responsible for my legalities. Dividing up the few properties that I own between my children, grandchildren, siblings and my mother. It's amazing how the death of a loved one makes you stand up and take notice of your own "mad house".
Friday, October 9, 2009
Triggers
A light whisper calling
My name in the night
Shouts of laughter
Screams of delight
A bond born with siblings
A celebration of life
A love like no other
Forever my light bright
My sister lived and suffered from ADHD and Bipolar disorder before she passed away. In a fit of anger over her passing my brother explained his fear and stigma of the disease by stating that I was next to die because I too live with Bipolar disorder. When I asked him why would he think that he stated that since we shared the same disability and our bought with medications that more than likely I would suffer the same fate as my sister.
I have tried to explain to my family that just because I live with biplor disorder that it is not a death sentence. Yes there are times when my depression moments bring me to suicidal tendencies and my manic moments cause me to do things that are out of the ordinary or frustrate me to the point that I become angry and agitated very easily. Just as I tried to explain to my sister before she passed that there is a way to control the moods and function among those who consider themselves "normal". She wasn't ready to take control of her disorder so that she could "live" as opposed to "suffer" with it. She wanted people to feel sorry for her but at the same time understand her. I wanted to teach her that it's hard for people to understand what she herself could not understand of her disorder.
So now begins the triggers.......
When I was diagnosed in 2006 people began to pay an unusual amount of attention to me. Always asking if I were ok. I couldn't understand why it was so important to pay attention to me now as opposed to the extreme hard times when I really needed it and no one knew I was alive. I often wonder if my sister had the same experiences. It triggers me when my brother says I'm next to die due to my disorder. I think about the suicidal times and how God didn't feel it was my time to go home. I think about why God felt it was my sister's time to go home.... Why at 37 was it her time to go? Why when she was finally finding a way to cope with her self esteem and trying desperately to get herself together was it time for her to go home? Why didn't I have enough time to be with her to teach her good coping skills for her disorder? Why, God, Why?
I don't want my family to keep a closer eye on me due to the fear of wondering if I'm going to die next because my symptoms got out of control.
Trigger #2:
My niece says "Auntie, I want to be just like you!"
You would think this is the best compliment in the world. I guess in some cases it is. When I think about her mom trying to be like me and the trouble it caused her it makes me cringe. It amazes me that my siblings are jealous of me. I'm not sure why but they are (by their own admission). I have never been very stable, always moving around. I suck with money and my sense of style is in a class all by itself. My self esteem is in the toilet and I don't even like myself! So why be jealous of me?? Since I've been in Cali with my family and helping with my niece I have enjoyed her tremendously. Doing homework with her, spelling words, walking her to school, bathtime, etc. It feels like it did when my boys were younger and when I used to have my grands all the time. When I think about the person I see myself as it scares me shitless to wish that on such an innocent soul. "Just like you auntie!" How can I make things wonderful for her to have a positive view to want to be herself and make life simple for her.
Trigger #3
You are the spark and we want you to come back home
I get my sense of humor from my mom. She is the most hilarious person I know. My sense of humor keeps me afloat and keeps me from loosing complete control of reality. As much as I miss my family living on the East Coast I recognize my need to live far away from them. I see the drama and I worry about worrying my mother too much. But at the same time I know that they need me to be closer. It's hard for me to have a life of my own when I'm too close. Then at the same time I feel like I'm being selfish for wanting such a thing.
I'm trying desperately to hold it together and be strong for my family through our time of grief. I feel overwhelmed at times and I know that at some point that I'm going to have to let it all go but right now there is no time for that. Only one person at a time for grief. If I grieve then everyone wants to know if my disorder is out of control or if I'm going to be suicidal myself. With the depression looming around the corner I worry if I will be able to handle it along with the grief.
My name in the night
Shouts of laughter
Screams of delight
A bond born with siblings
A celebration of life
A love like no other
Forever my light bright
My sister lived and suffered from ADHD and Bipolar disorder before she passed away. In a fit of anger over her passing my brother explained his fear and stigma of the disease by stating that I was next to die because I too live with Bipolar disorder. When I asked him why would he think that he stated that since we shared the same disability and our bought with medications that more than likely I would suffer the same fate as my sister.
I have tried to explain to my family that just because I live with biplor disorder that it is not a death sentence. Yes there are times when my depression moments bring me to suicidal tendencies and my manic moments cause me to do things that are out of the ordinary or frustrate me to the point that I become angry and agitated very easily. Just as I tried to explain to my sister before she passed that there is a way to control the moods and function among those who consider themselves "normal". She wasn't ready to take control of her disorder so that she could "live" as opposed to "suffer" with it. She wanted people to feel sorry for her but at the same time understand her. I wanted to teach her that it's hard for people to understand what she herself could not understand of her disorder.
So now begins the triggers.......
When I was diagnosed in 2006 people began to pay an unusual amount of attention to me. Always asking if I were ok. I couldn't understand why it was so important to pay attention to me now as opposed to the extreme hard times when I really needed it and no one knew I was alive. I often wonder if my sister had the same experiences. It triggers me when my brother says I'm next to die due to my disorder. I think about the suicidal times and how God didn't feel it was my time to go home. I think about why God felt it was my sister's time to go home.... Why at 37 was it her time to go? Why when she was finally finding a way to cope with her self esteem and trying desperately to get herself together was it time for her to go home? Why didn't I have enough time to be with her to teach her good coping skills for her disorder? Why, God, Why?
I don't want my family to keep a closer eye on me due to the fear of wondering if I'm going to die next because my symptoms got out of control.
Trigger #2:
My niece says "Auntie, I want to be just like you!"
You would think this is the best compliment in the world. I guess in some cases it is. When I think about her mom trying to be like me and the trouble it caused her it makes me cringe. It amazes me that my siblings are jealous of me. I'm not sure why but they are (by their own admission). I have never been very stable, always moving around. I suck with money and my sense of style is in a class all by itself. My self esteem is in the toilet and I don't even like myself! So why be jealous of me?? Since I've been in Cali with my family and helping with my niece I have enjoyed her tremendously. Doing homework with her, spelling words, walking her to school, bathtime, etc. It feels like it did when my boys were younger and when I used to have my grands all the time. When I think about the person I see myself as it scares me shitless to wish that on such an innocent soul. "Just like you auntie!" How can I make things wonderful for her to have a positive view to want to be herself and make life simple for her.
Trigger #3
You are the spark and we want you to come back home
I get my sense of humor from my mom. She is the most hilarious person I know. My sense of humor keeps me afloat and keeps me from loosing complete control of reality. As much as I miss my family living on the East Coast I recognize my need to live far away from them. I see the drama and I worry about worrying my mother too much. But at the same time I know that they need me to be closer. It's hard for me to have a life of my own when I'm too close. Then at the same time I feel like I'm being selfish for wanting such a thing.
I'm trying desperately to hold it together and be strong for my family through our time of grief. I feel overwhelmed at times and I know that at some point that I'm going to have to let it all go but right now there is no time for that. Only one person at a time for grief. If I grieve then everyone wants to know if my disorder is out of control or if I'm going to be suicidal myself. With the depression looming around the corner I worry if I will be able to handle it along with the grief.
Friday, September 25, 2009
A Letter to My Sister Shawn Brown (7/12/72 - 9/15/09)
Dear Shawn,
I remember when we moved from Chicago to California when you were a baby. The times I played with you and watched your beautiful toothless grins. You were such a happy baby. As a toddler you loved to chase Poochie (the dog) with a brush and beat her with it but she kept you safe when you tried to run off. I can remember combing your hair and helping you look ever bit as pretty as you were born to be.
As we got older we wore each other's clothes often fighting over who could wear what on a particular day. We used to have races to see who's hair would grow the longest the fastest! When mama went to college we got separated and I didn't get to be around you for a while until I was in high school. Our five year age difference showed it's ugly head but it didn't totally keep us from hanging out. You were the beach bum always hanging out at Port Hueneme Beach getting the tan you so desperately wanted.
As adults our bond became stronger as I once again became your protector. Your choice in men has always been horrendous but then again you would say the same about me! LOL We never did like each other's boyfriends! The best memories I have is you trying to show everyone at Denny's how to drink a blow job (the drink!) and that idiot you chose to go out to breakfast with us asking if we were really sister's and you wrapped your mouth around that coke glass and downed that ice water in one gulp! We got breakfast FREE that night! LOL Your sense of humor rivaled mine in so many ways. I loved your zest for life, your courage and your straightforwardness. You could always say the things I never could and I admired you for that.
The last conversation we had you asked me to send you a picture and I sent you a pic of me flipping you off and sticking my tongue out at you to make you laugh. I know you laughed, I know you just that well. But something in my heart told me that you wanted more than just a laugh, you wanted our bond back. You told me that I needed to come home and be with you and Briana and mama. I was coming home for Thanksgiving.
I guess I waited too long cause you had to go home! I was devastated that I didn't get to see you one last time before you had to leave. I'm thankful that you don't have to endure the pain you were going through anymore. I know that you are up there teaching the Angels the Chicago Step! I'm home my sister. I'm home with your beautiful daughter and I'm helping her cope and teaching her about the wonderful person that were my sister. I love you Brat! You will always be my Brat and now your daughter is Junior Brat! LOL I will miss you with all my heart and soul.
Drea
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Collegue
It is not secret that I am ultra sensitive to medications. I have said so on many occasions and have told every health care professional I have ever seen. Since learning about my mental disorder I have worked very hard to learn as much as I possibly can about the symptoms, the effects the disorder has had not only on my life but my family's lives as well. I have gone to school to get my certifications in Hypnotherapy, Human Services, Political Advocate, Mentor and Presentator and I have my sights set on becoming a certified group facilitator as well.
All these accomplishments have only meant (to me that is) that I am doing what I can to achieve the maximum functionalbility that I can to maintain a healthy life. When I am helping others live and function with their disability then I feel like I'm doing real service. I can see in their eyes the enjoyment they have gotten from their lives just in the way they carry themselves and how they have managed to learn a different way of going about taking care of themselves.
So why can't I see it for myself when I'm doing the same things?
I guess the best answer for that is I just see myself as living! It doesn't feel like a great acomplishment when I'm taking care of me. I struggle daily with just believing that I'm worth the effort! I love the fact that I can and do work with others and we find ways of teaching each other the values of everyday living and how it impacts the way we do and see things.
Today I saw a specialist to help me get back on track. I gave him my list of medications that I've tried and the many side effects that my body wouldn't tolerate as a result. He looked at me with a big smile on his face and said "You've definately given us a difficult challenge in taking care of you young lady." Then he asked me did I bother to take notice of all my accomplishments that I've made in educating myself and out living the stigma that I had placed on myself. I looked at him totally confused as I told him I was just trying to make life functional for myself. Then he said, "You are my collegue!" I was totally flabbergasted! A doctor that called me his equal! He said he is a community psychatrist and understands what case management was all about and knows that this is the line of work I have educated myself in and feels as though I am a good candidate for it.
So I guess we both have a unique challenge... His is to find a way to create a method for my madness and mine is to find a way to not allow my madness to run my life so that I can find out what makes me happy and able to function.
All these accomplishments have only meant (to me that is) that I am doing what I can to achieve the maximum functionalbility that I can to maintain a healthy life. When I am helping others live and function with their disability then I feel like I'm doing real service. I can see in their eyes the enjoyment they have gotten from their lives just in the way they carry themselves and how they have managed to learn a different way of going about taking care of themselves.
So why can't I see it for myself when I'm doing the same things?
I guess the best answer for that is I just see myself as living! It doesn't feel like a great acomplishment when I'm taking care of me. I struggle daily with just believing that I'm worth the effort! I love the fact that I can and do work with others and we find ways of teaching each other the values of everyday living and how it impacts the way we do and see things.
Today I saw a specialist to help me get back on track. I gave him my list of medications that I've tried and the many side effects that my body wouldn't tolerate as a result. He looked at me with a big smile on his face and said "You've definately given us a difficult challenge in taking care of you young lady." Then he asked me did I bother to take notice of all my accomplishments that I've made in educating myself and out living the stigma that I had placed on myself. I looked at him totally confused as I told him I was just trying to make life functional for myself. Then he said, "You are my collegue!" I was totally flabbergasted! A doctor that called me his equal! He said he is a community psychatrist and understands what case management was all about and knows that this is the line of work I have educated myself in and feels as though I am a good candidate for it.
So I guess we both have a unique challenge... His is to find a way to create a method for my madness and mine is to find a way to not allow my madness to run my life so that I can find out what makes me happy and able to function.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Welcome to The Shit Museum
Welcome to the Shit Museum where you can find all types of shitty works of art. The Shit Museum is located in Shitville USA. Asshole, the town Mayor welcomes all visitors to his shitty town. Shitville is easily accessible on the Hershey Highway. Unfortunately due to the massive amounts of shit that created the town there are no occupants but the Mayor.
Little Shit (AKA Cockita) is the museums coordinator and presentater. Cockita has worked long and hard through mounds of shit to create a special interactive presentation in the Shit Museum. Although there are no current residents in Shitville, thousands of people come to visit every day.
In the museum there are shit splatter exhibits, tall shit exhibits, piles of shit exhibits, little shit exhibits and exhibits of all colors and consistencies. There is even a special hall of shitty smells that range from rosie shit to down right "get the fuck out" shit.
We hope you come to visit our town soon. For brochure information please email www.welcometoshitvilleusa.com and leave your name and adress and we'll send you out a colorful brochure with all of our latest attractions. For travel you can take the Shitville train into our illustrious shitty train station. Till then, have an ultra shitty day!
Sign: Asshole, mayor of Shitville
Little Shit (AKA Cockita) is the museums coordinator and presentater. Cockita has worked long and hard through mounds of shit to create a special interactive presentation in the Shit Museum. Although there are no current residents in Shitville, thousands of people come to visit every day.
In the museum there are shit splatter exhibits, tall shit exhibits, piles of shit exhibits, little shit exhibits and exhibits of all colors and consistencies. There is even a special hall of shitty smells that range from rosie shit to down right "get the fuck out" shit.
We hope you come to visit our town soon. For brochure information please email www.welcometoshitvilleusa.com and leave your name and adress and we'll send you out a colorful brochure with all of our latest attractions. For travel you can take the Shitville train into our illustrious shitty train station. Till then, have an ultra shitty day!
Sign: Asshole, mayor of Shitville
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
