http://www.care4teachers.org/the-care-retreat/
http://1440.org/who-we-support/calm-teachers/
http://uvacontemplation.org/
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Monday, November 4, 2013
as I approach "family life"
What you may not know is...
JJ and I are planning on having a child in the next year or two.
crazy right?
I was always against having a child, mostly because I was scared.
I was terrified of my genetics. And still believed something was wrong with me. Often I still do, but for very different reasons.
Maybe my brain works differently, maybe I see differently but..
I came across a post from someone who just had a baby, and she said "blah blah blah, we are the perfect little family."
excuse me?
what makes you perfect. (not to get into nitty gritty details, but behind the scenes of that "family" is scarier than... jj's bed head!)
But seriously, perfect?
Why? Because there is a mommy, a daddy, and a baby? If that is the formula to a "happy" family, there would be a lot more happy families. I know two happy families, of equal happiness. One is a single mother and her daughter. And the other is a mom, dad, and son. Both have that something, and it's amazing.
I grew up with the idea that I was somehow flawed. Because I did not have a mother around. My dad even bought into that bullshit, and tried to get me a step mom. Which did a lot more harm than good to the both of us. The thing I can't get over is the year dad had me, here in Va, our first year in Staunton. I was the happiest girl in the world. Nothing bothered me. I didn't care if I had the best clothes, or ate at fancy restaurants, or had the best toys. Nothing mattered, I just wanted to be home with my dad. We set up race tracks, and held car races around the living room. Or he'd set up his train track and we'd watch it go around and around. On halloween that year I dressed up like a witch, and he dressed up as my "mom". It was a sight! and everyone loved it, and I loved giving him hell about it. If I could bottle that year and save it forever, or use it to add salt to my life I totally would.
There is something to be said about just hanging out with your kid. I never got in trouble that year, I was never grounded, and I didn't question my father. I was so content with myself, that I didn't even feel the need or want to spend my allowance. So I saved all of it. And when we moved dad found something like $250 stashed in my piggy bank. I played with a balloon on a stick. And my favorite thing to eat with my dad was Koolaid and beans and franks with mac and cheese! Dad's favorite was fish sticks. And if it was a really special night, he'd make stir fry. Sometimes, we even had food fights. And I loved his car. He had a 1978 (?) chevy malibu, with shiny rims, and a busted up inside. Every time I touched the lining of his car, it would crumble in my fingers. I was so little that I had to sit in the floor boards of the car to crank the window down. I listened to cassette tapes dad had giving me when he first got custody of me. And I'd stay up really late on weekends to watch tv with him. But always fall asleep early anyway. I use to lay my head on his tummy and watch scooby doo. And every time he'd laugh it would be like a damn earth quake and my head would bounce around.
But dad got lonely. And raising me was too hard so he got a girlfriend who agreed to move in with him. Which was hard, especially here, because nobody wants to raise a kid that isn't their own. And on top of that, I had baggage. He warned women about my mother, and how I still have shown signs of grieving. etc etc. Just so they were aware. But these women would take it to measures I still can't believe.
That's how I learned I was flawed. And it took me 12 years to come out of it. Only 6 years to disagree with it. But it took longer to actually feel comfortable in my own skin. Not to say that the terror doesn't come back, because it does. Especially when someone tries to through the idea of "perfection" in my face. Your idea of perfection is flawed. Because if it was perfect, you wouldn't be gloating about it so much. You'd be too busy enjoying it. And you probably wouldn't even notice how perfect it is, because it is that easy.
To say that my life was less than perfect because it doesn't meet the standards to your idea of perfection is ignorant.
Also, relating to that post again. The day she finds out her so-called perfect husband cheated, and still tells people he is unhappy, is the moment she will have to eat her words. poof "perfect family"
unless of course, she already knows and then, awesome, way to ignore the pink elephant in the room.
One of my best friends told me I would probably have to be a single mother for me to function. She didn't say it to be mean, she said it to be frank. "Family" in a sense is not something that is too familiar or comfortable with me. It might be some form of twisted psychology, childhood trauma or what have you. But I had to entertain the idea. Which made me think of that time with my dad. Maybe im selfish, and just wanted my dad to myself. But then again, I would always try to hook it up with the cashiers in stores. And even now, I wish my dad would find someone to spend his life with.
My hopes with having a kid, which is something I have completely separated from the idea of marriage as well, is to have the child as an equal part to both of our lives. So the child isn't separate from the parents. If that makes since. Remember that happy family of three I pointed out earlier. They do that. It's pretty obvious they love each other as a couple, but it is exemplified through their love for their kid. But not in a way like "look what we made" but more so in a "isn't this kid the coolest kid ever" and not because "we made him" but because "he is just an awesome human being".
this isn't going to come full circle bc I am tired. But I don't want my kid to feel like the third wheel. I want him/her to be ok with being a lone. To be strong and brave without mommy or daddy standing behind them. I want them to feel safe and heard by both parents. I want them to understand different things, and accept people. I want him/her to be treated like a little person, not a child. Not someone that everyone should teach or preach to, but someone everyone wants to learn from, see or hear from. My child isn't going to be a prototype of jj or myself. He/she is going to be a completely unique creation, and I will just be the carrier.
and most importantly, I want my child to know he/she is not flawed. Not even a little. No matter what happens. No illness, no situation. Not even if his parents where to ever split up. Would he be flawed by the experience. I want him/her to understand how to learn from it. And I want to be able to show him/her how to continue to keep love and peace in a difficult time. How to accept and move on. And how to keep you head high, and not loose your balance. How to carry the weight of the world without falling to your knees. I want to teach my child the type of understanding I had to learn, that way no matter what happens in his/her lifetime. She/He will be ready and able to deal with it. And I want him/her to know. He/She was my definite motivation.
JJ and I are planning on having a child in the next year or two.
crazy right?
I was always against having a child, mostly because I was scared.
I was terrified of my genetics. And still believed something was wrong with me. Often I still do, but for very different reasons.
Maybe my brain works differently, maybe I see differently but..
I came across a post from someone who just had a baby, and she said "blah blah blah, we are the perfect little family."
excuse me?
what makes you perfect. (not to get into nitty gritty details, but behind the scenes of that "family" is scarier than... jj's bed head!)
But seriously, perfect?
Why? Because there is a mommy, a daddy, and a baby? If that is the formula to a "happy" family, there would be a lot more happy families. I know two happy families, of equal happiness. One is a single mother and her daughter. And the other is a mom, dad, and son. Both have that something, and it's amazing.
I grew up with the idea that I was somehow flawed. Because I did not have a mother around. My dad even bought into that bullshit, and tried to get me a step mom. Which did a lot more harm than good to the both of us. The thing I can't get over is the year dad had me, here in Va, our first year in Staunton. I was the happiest girl in the world. Nothing bothered me. I didn't care if I had the best clothes, or ate at fancy restaurants, or had the best toys. Nothing mattered, I just wanted to be home with my dad. We set up race tracks, and held car races around the living room. Or he'd set up his train track and we'd watch it go around and around. On halloween that year I dressed up like a witch, and he dressed up as my "mom". It was a sight! and everyone loved it, and I loved giving him hell about it. If I could bottle that year and save it forever, or use it to add salt to my life I totally would.
There is something to be said about just hanging out with your kid. I never got in trouble that year, I was never grounded, and I didn't question my father. I was so content with myself, that I didn't even feel the need or want to spend my allowance. So I saved all of it. And when we moved dad found something like $250 stashed in my piggy bank. I played with a balloon on a stick. And my favorite thing to eat with my dad was Koolaid and beans and franks with mac and cheese! Dad's favorite was fish sticks. And if it was a really special night, he'd make stir fry. Sometimes, we even had food fights. And I loved his car. He had a 1978 (?) chevy malibu, with shiny rims, and a busted up inside. Every time I touched the lining of his car, it would crumble in my fingers. I was so little that I had to sit in the floor boards of the car to crank the window down. I listened to cassette tapes dad had giving me when he first got custody of me. And I'd stay up really late on weekends to watch tv with him. But always fall asleep early anyway. I use to lay my head on his tummy and watch scooby doo. And every time he'd laugh it would be like a damn earth quake and my head would bounce around.
But dad got lonely. And raising me was too hard so he got a girlfriend who agreed to move in with him. Which was hard, especially here, because nobody wants to raise a kid that isn't their own. And on top of that, I had baggage. He warned women about my mother, and how I still have shown signs of grieving. etc etc. Just so they were aware. But these women would take it to measures I still can't believe.
That's how I learned I was flawed. And it took me 12 years to come out of it. Only 6 years to disagree with it. But it took longer to actually feel comfortable in my own skin. Not to say that the terror doesn't come back, because it does. Especially when someone tries to through the idea of "perfection" in my face. Your idea of perfection is flawed. Because if it was perfect, you wouldn't be gloating about it so much. You'd be too busy enjoying it. And you probably wouldn't even notice how perfect it is, because it is that easy.
To say that my life was less than perfect because it doesn't meet the standards to your idea of perfection is ignorant.
Also, relating to that post again. The day she finds out her so-called perfect husband cheated, and still tells people he is unhappy, is the moment she will have to eat her words. poof "perfect family"
unless of course, she already knows and then, awesome, way to ignore the pink elephant in the room.
One of my best friends told me I would probably have to be a single mother for me to function. She didn't say it to be mean, she said it to be frank. "Family" in a sense is not something that is too familiar or comfortable with me. It might be some form of twisted psychology, childhood trauma or what have you. But I had to entertain the idea. Which made me think of that time with my dad. Maybe im selfish, and just wanted my dad to myself. But then again, I would always try to hook it up with the cashiers in stores. And even now, I wish my dad would find someone to spend his life with.
My hopes with having a kid, which is something I have completely separated from the idea of marriage as well, is to have the child as an equal part to both of our lives. So the child isn't separate from the parents. If that makes since. Remember that happy family of three I pointed out earlier. They do that. It's pretty obvious they love each other as a couple, but it is exemplified through their love for their kid. But not in a way like "look what we made" but more so in a "isn't this kid the coolest kid ever" and not because "we made him" but because "he is just an awesome human being".
this isn't going to come full circle bc I am tired. But I don't want my kid to feel like the third wheel. I want him/her to be ok with being a lone. To be strong and brave without mommy or daddy standing behind them. I want them to feel safe and heard by both parents. I want them to understand different things, and accept people. I want him/her to be treated like a little person, not a child. Not someone that everyone should teach or preach to, but someone everyone wants to learn from, see or hear from. My child isn't going to be a prototype of jj or myself. He/she is going to be a completely unique creation, and I will just be the carrier.
and most importantly, I want my child to know he/she is not flawed. Not even a little. No matter what happens. No illness, no situation. Not even if his parents where to ever split up. Would he be flawed by the experience. I want him/her to understand how to learn from it. And I want to be able to show him/her how to continue to keep love and peace in a difficult time. How to accept and move on. And how to keep you head high, and not loose your balance. How to carry the weight of the world without falling to your knees. I want to teach my child the type of understanding I had to learn, that way no matter what happens in his/her lifetime. She/He will be ready and able to deal with it. And I want him/her to know. He/She was my definite motivation.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
my job is
just like yours except add 15 children
seriously.
Think about your job, your responsibilities, and now
add 15 children
that is teaching
We have to record keeping, observational notes, daily notes, lesson plans, research, communication to parents and supervisors, inventory, and classroom organization. Which alone is a full time job
now add 15 children
And their daily needs. We feed them, dress them, change them, help them potty, keep them entertained, track their progress, monitor their behavior, engage them in developmental appropriate play, and wipe their noses. (actually we have to clean up more than that but you know)
oh and
we have to teach them a full curriculum
people don't think about that
Take my boyfriend (Ill rag on him because he loves me)
He essentially is systems maintenance for payroll. Computer tech, systems management and error resolution.
Is complicated. I watch him run tests occasionally, and If that was my job I'd stab my eyes out.
But you know. He punches in a few commands, analyses the results, punches in a few more. sets us a system check and lets it run while he scrolls through the recent reddit feed.
His data entry is a little more complicated than a child assessment. But at least he can do it in peace. (minus his office mate cracking jokes, and the occasional email from his boss) Imagine if he had to do that job, but instead of sitting on reddit while his test runs the course, he has to tend to the needs of 15 children. AND then the developmental advancements any of the children make in that time, RESET THE DAMN TEST. (I'll finish an assessment *which takes an hour to do* then the next day that kid does something astonishing and makes me change his assessment!)
my job
seriously.
Think about your job, your responsibilities, and now
add 15 children
that is teaching
We have to record keeping, observational notes, daily notes, lesson plans, research, communication to parents and supervisors, inventory, and classroom organization. Which alone is a full time job
now add 15 children
And their daily needs. We feed them, dress them, change them, help them potty, keep them entertained, track their progress, monitor their behavior, engage them in developmental appropriate play, and wipe their noses. (actually we have to clean up more than that but you know)
oh and
we have to teach them a full curriculum
people don't think about that
Take my boyfriend (Ill rag on him because he loves me)
He essentially is systems maintenance for payroll. Computer tech, systems management and error resolution.
Is complicated. I watch him run tests occasionally, and If that was my job I'd stab my eyes out.
But you know. He punches in a few commands, analyses the results, punches in a few more. sets us a system check and lets it run while he scrolls through the recent reddit feed.
His data entry is a little more complicated than a child assessment. But at least he can do it in peace. (minus his office mate cracking jokes, and the occasional email from his boss) Imagine if he had to do that job, but instead of sitting on reddit while his test runs the course, he has to tend to the needs of 15 children. AND then the developmental advancements any of the children make in that time, RESET THE DAMN TEST. (I'll finish an assessment *which takes an hour to do* then the next day that kid does something astonishing and makes me change his assessment!)
my job
Diversity
Occasionally I will get caught up in a discussion that makes someone raise an eyebrow to my response, or someone finds a modeling pic of mine, or someone friends me on Facebook. And a brief stint comes up and typically gets squashed. So I guess that is a step forward in maturity for me, and a step forward in acceptance for everyone else.
Also I feel like the world is becoming more accepting of their differences, and I feel like it is the best thing ever. And what better place to start than with children?
I just re-read my first post, which is now a very faint memory. But I can still feel the anger and the hurt from that time. I will never understand some fears people have.
I do understand how people can group people into sections based on appearance. If you look like a punk, you must act like a punk in the most extreme way. Yes there are kids with mohawks to get drunk, run around, and fuck shit up. Yes. I know
Yes they get a lot of attention
But what about that chick with a mohawk who has a dream to become president.
I've learned to play the damn game. looking "normal" opens more doors and helps prevent a lot of hurt and fights. People are not instantly defensive around me as much any more.
I am willing to bet most "punks" have a higher IQ on average than all "normal" looking people combined.
You don't become eccentric by chance. You don't question your own existence for fun
You do it because your own existence becomes unbelievable
You find out someday that you no longer feel pain
So you jab needles through every part of loose skin on your body just to "make sure"
And in modern times you don't just jab the needles through and call it done. You stick a ring in it to remind yourself of it.
I know I wasn't the only teen to do that.
And I won't be the last
And you want to know something. Someone like me, or some of my friends. Have come in contact with some of the most bizarre people on this earth. We've had to cope with the absolute truth of life, the concept that your parents are human, the illusions that exist around "the american dream" our whole lives. No wonder we have a different presence, understanding, awareness, and opinion than others. Our experiences shape us.
They make us stronger, but sorry some of us have more scars than others.
But doesn't ANYONE in this world think that maybe, this is all a good thing. This is good for advancements in psychology, sociology, etc.
And Don't you think people like us would really understand kids too?
If the bulk of our trauma happened at an early age. Don't you think a part of our brain is frozen in it?
Yes. I believe so
This is an idea I want to study more. And try to get more information on. But I know I do it. I know I listen to children differently. I also know I am one of the few people that has vivid memories of being a child. VIVID. I mean I can remember details. I can remember feelings. from age 3 on. I even have one memory burned into my subconscious, of my dad leaving when I was 2. It became an ongoing lucid dream that I would have over and over and over every night until he finally came back at age 6.
I remember watching mars attacks with one of my baby sitters, while we hung upside down off the couch. age 3-4.
I am now working with that exact age group. And I know how desperately they are trying to communicate. And how curious they are. And how random they will act. I was the child that decided sliding down an unfinished wood slide would be so fun. Until I got to the bottom and had massive splinters down both legs and up both arms.
why? BECAUSE I WAS 3-4 DAMMIT
ok I think I will end this rant, but I don't like being pushed aside for being "different" because we are all different. Some are just accepted.
People don't use sense when they judge me.
Omg you have a picture of FB of you as a vampire. what would my kid think? DON'T SHOW YOUR KID IF IT BOTHERS YOU. I am not going to go to school like that. But you know, even if I did your kid will accept it before you do. Kids don't have a built in meter like adults do. they don't think "freaks" or "scary" they are just curious. they just want to know why. "Why are your teeth so big?" and its us who tell them. "The better to eat you with!"
honestly we could learn a lot more from kids than they can learn from us
Sunday, August 18, 2013
inventive traumatic events
Child psychology, and the effects abuse can have on a child's mental well-being, is a delicate subject. Psychology on any level is hard to define, determine, evaluate, anything. Mostly because people would rather find something to blame their short comings on, than work harder to have a better life. Why work when you can make excuses, and get sympathy from society, who in turn hands your life on the silver spoon you were born to expect in life? (Some of my non-existent readers will probably scoff and exit this post right about now...)
As for the rest of you imaginary readers. read on.
This story is a prime example of invented trauma in a young mans life, directly tied to Early Childhood development AND actual trauma unrelated to "child abuse" in the terms that we know it by.
I met this young man three years ago. He had just turned 23, and was a part of a well-known street performance in my city. We became fast friends, and then lovers. Upon getting to know him I could tell he was "skittish" like an abused animal. Relatively easy to push around. Actually he almost expected to be pushed around, and in many cases set himself up to be "the whipping boy". Which lend itself well to his sex life, he thrived after women who were dominant, strong, independent. And who often had no issue taking the lead in the bedroom. However this personality characteristic became a problem within our relationship rather quickly. Not to super analyze my psychological health, but at that time in my life I was struggling with acceptance, resolution, and understanding my past. Which lead to out bursts of anger, sorrow, and angst. Which you probably know does not mix well with someone who inadvertently enjoys abuse, or thrives on being a "victim". I started finding out that he was telling his friends that I was mean, cruel, and harsh. And would beat him, hit him, smack him. Which was half true. We would get into heated discussions, sometimes fights, over stupid things. And occassionally I'd push him or slap him. These stories would be turned around to "and then she pushed me into the door, twisted my arm, threatened my life" serious ridiculous nonsense. I racked my brain trying to figure out why this guy would tell everyone in a small city, that I was a heartless bitch, then turn around and come home to saying "I love you." He talked about it so much he made some of my closest friends think I was a witch who spit venom. Which is something I still haven't been able to undo since our break-up. I desperately tried to figure out why he behaved in such a manner. He had told me his father was abusive. And had tons of stories where his father would drink, and drag him out of his room to beat him. He even had a horrific story where his father grabbed him and his brother, drove them out to the middle of nowhere (which he couldn't remember where) beat his little brother and held him at gun point. And when he was done, and decided not to kill them both, he drove off. Leaving them to walk home. Again. He had no idea where this place was after the fact. (which I found a little strange) I did not meet his parents until we moved in together about 6 months after we started "dating" and a few months after we made it official. I didn't have a reason not to believe him. But I started to wonder how much of it was true based on the stories he was already spreading about me. When I did meet his parents, they seemed like a very happy couple, living together in the country with two adult boys. Just wanting the best for them. After meeting them I asked my boyfriend what made his father calm down. Because he seemed like a very calm man. He said it must have been his stroke. Ever since his stroke he has been a different man. I didn't argue I just listened. As time went on the stories about me grew more violent. Almost matching the stories he told me about the girlfriend he had before me. (she apparently threw him out of her house, set her porch on fire, and cheated on him basically infront of him. but she was poly and had told him from the start, see where im going with his personality) So anyway. I started to do some digging on his story. Talking to him mom more when we saw her. Asked his dad a few casual questions here and there. And there was literally no mention of anything. Which I expected, but there also wasn't any sideways stepping around the topic of punishment either.
There is a piece to this story I left out until now, because it wasn't important until this moment. When my ex was about 7, he got in an accident with his dad. He was playing in the yard while his dad rode the riding lawn mower. He kept running up behind the mower and jumping on it to ride. His father told him numerous times to stop. His mother even came out of the house to tell him to stop. But because he is the way he is, he kept doing it. He did it one to many times. He ran and jumped on the mower, his dad didn't hear him or see him. Threw the mower into reverse, which shook it and threw my ex off the back, then his dad backed up over his leg. He was lucky only to use a few toes.
The correlation to this story is that there are zero cases/stories of abuse BEFORE this incident.
The abuse did not start, according to my ex, until after he recovered.
And continued until he left the house at age 17.
I started questioning the abuse around christmas. We went out to his parents house for christmas day. And they went all out. They stuffed 2 stockings for him, and gave him loads of presents. For a 24 year old man, that is extensive. He told me they did that every year for him and his brother. They also made a fantastic brunch. (they did forget that my ex was a vegetarian and made meat, which is fussed about and got angry over... even though he was back and forth with vegetarianism to begin with..) His mom shared a photo album with me. I got to see pictures of my ex from age 2-14. Before and after the accident. It was evident that my ex had grown up in a typical middle class home and lifestyle. I started seeing what made him "want" to be abused. He wanted to fit in AND stand out at the same time. He wanted to fit in with his friends who came from bad homes, and the story of his father accidently running over his leg with the mower wasn't enough for him to trump the child with the abusive father who beat the snot out of him. He wanted to be the most abused and wanted to look like he had gone through the most terrible of lives. And if anyone in the room had a more awful story, he would make one up to trump it. He did it to me. If I talked about anything pertaining my mothers criminal lifestyle, he'd add in that he was held at gun point. He WAS pretty consistent with his lies. But if you put all his stories together, they just didn't line up. If you questioned his stories, he would become angry, and aggressive. Much like a child.
A few months after this revelation, and many arguments. We split up.
His inability to be honest with me, himself, and his family became stagnant
He has had 2 girlfriends since me, and has done the same things to them. He is currently waiting for his dad to die so he can get some money, because he can't hold a job. I do feel like there is existing trauma in his life from the accident, I do not believe his dad beat him, and I certainly do not believe his father held a gun to his head. He does not show the signs of someone who has had that kind torment. He has emotional pain from a barrier that broke the trust he had in his father. And him being a very clumsy person, I am sure he got hurt a lot doing things he wasn't suppose to do. I believe he was very spoiled in life, and it has made him believe the world owes him something and the easiest thing in the world to get is sympathy, especially if you were an abused child. It is sad because he should get help to get over the one traumatic event he can't seem to shake. But he will never get the help he needs if he can not acknowledge that he has invented the rest of his childhood misfortune.
As for the rest of you imaginary readers. read on.
This story is a prime example of invented trauma in a young mans life, directly tied to Early Childhood development AND actual trauma unrelated to "child abuse" in the terms that we know it by.
I met this young man three years ago. He had just turned 23, and was a part of a well-known street performance in my city. We became fast friends, and then lovers. Upon getting to know him I could tell he was "skittish" like an abused animal. Relatively easy to push around. Actually he almost expected to be pushed around, and in many cases set himself up to be "the whipping boy". Which lend itself well to his sex life, he thrived after women who were dominant, strong, independent. And who often had no issue taking the lead in the bedroom. However this personality characteristic became a problem within our relationship rather quickly. Not to super analyze my psychological health, but at that time in my life I was struggling with acceptance, resolution, and understanding my past. Which lead to out bursts of anger, sorrow, and angst. Which you probably know does not mix well with someone who inadvertently enjoys abuse, or thrives on being a "victim". I started finding out that he was telling his friends that I was mean, cruel, and harsh. And would beat him, hit him, smack him. Which was half true. We would get into heated discussions, sometimes fights, over stupid things. And occassionally I'd push him or slap him. These stories would be turned around to "and then she pushed me into the door, twisted my arm, threatened my life" serious ridiculous nonsense. I racked my brain trying to figure out why this guy would tell everyone in a small city, that I was a heartless bitch, then turn around and come home to saying "I love you." He talked about it so much he made some of my closest friends think I was a witch who spit venom. Which is something I still haven't been able to undo since our break-up. I desperately tried to figure out why he behaved in such a manner. He had told me his father was abusive. And had tons of stories where his father would drink, and drag him out of his room to beat him. He even had a horrific story where his father grabbed him and his brother, drove them out to the middle of nowhere (which he couldn't remember where) beat his little brother and held him at gun point. And when he was done, and decided not to kill them both, he drove off. Leaving them to walk home. Again. He had no idea where this place was after the fact. (which I found a little strange) I did not meet his parents until we moved in together about 6 months after we started "dating" and a few months after we made it official. I didn't have a reason not to believe him. But I started to wonder how much of it was true based on the stories he was already spreading about me. When I did meet his parents, they seemed like a very happy couple, living together in the country with two adult boys. Just wanting the best for them. After meeting them I asked my boyfriend what made his father calm down. Because he seemed like a very calm man. He said it must have been his stroke. Ever since his stroke he has been a different man. I didn't argue I just listened. As time went on the stories about me grew more violent. Almost matching the stories he told me about the girlfriend he had before me. (she apparently threw him out of her house, set her porch on fire, and cheated on him basically infront of him. but she was poly and had told him from the start, see where im going with his personality) So anyway. I started to do some digging on his story. Talking to him mom more when we saw her. Asked his dad a few casual questions here and there. And there was literally no mention of anything. Which I expected, but there also wasn't any sideways stepping around the topic of punishment either.
There is a piece to this story I left out until now, because it wasn't important until this moment. When my ex was about 7, he got in an accident with his dad. He was playing in the yard while his dad rode the riding lawn mower. He kept running up behind the mower and jumping on it to ride. His father told him numerous times to stop. His mother even came out of the house to tell him to stop. But because he is the way he is, he kept doing it. He did it one to many times. He ran and jumped on the mower, his dad didn't hear him or see him. Threw the mower into reverse, which shook it and threw my ex off the back, then his dad backed up over his leg. He was lucky only to use a few toes.
The correlation to this story is that there are zero cases/stories of abuse BEFORE this incident.
The abuse did not start, according to my ex, until after he recovered.
And continued until he left the house at age 17.
I started questioning the abuse around christmas. We went out to his parents house for christmas day. And they went all out. They stuffed 2 stockings for him, and gave him loads of presents. For a 24 year old man, that is extensive. He told me they did that every year for him and his brother. They also made a fantastic brunch. (they did forget that my ex was a vegetarian and made meat, which is fussed about and got angry over... even though he was back and forth with vegetarianism to begin with..) His mom shared a photo album with me. I got to see pictures of my ex from age 2-14. Before and after the accident. It was evident that my ex had grown up in a typical middle class home and lifestyle. I started seeing what made him "want" to be abused. He wanted to fit in AND stand out at the same time. He wanted to fit in with his friends who came from bad homes, and the story of his father accidently running over his leg with the mower wasn't enough for him to trump the child with the abusive father who beat the snot out of him. He wanted to be the most abused and wanted to look like he had gone through the most terrible of lives. And if anyone in the room had a more awful story, he would make one up to trump it. He did it to me. If I talked about anything pertaining my mothers criminal lifestyle, he'd add in that he was held at gun point. He WAS pretty consistent with his lies. But if you put all his stories together, they just didn't line up. If you questioned his stories, he would become angry, and aggressive. Much like a child.
A few months after this revelation, and many arguments. We split up.
His inability to be honest with me, himself, and his family became stagnant
He has had 2 girlfriends since me, and has done the same things to them. He is currently waiting for his dad to die so he can get some money, because he can't hold a job. I do feel like there is existing trauma in his life from the accident, I do not believe his dad beat him, and I certainly do not believe his father held a gun to his head. He does not show the signs of someone who has had that kind torment. He has emotional pain from a barrier that broke the trust he had in his father. And him being a very clumsy person, I am sure he got hurt a lot doing things he wasn't suppose to do. I believe he was very spoiled in life, and it has made him believe the world owes him something and the easiest thing in the world to get is sympathy, especially if you were an abused child. It is sad because he should get help to get over the one traumatic event he can't seem to shake. But he will never get the help he needs if he can not acknowledge that he has invented the rest of his childhood misfortune.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Double post
this is yet another post that is going to span from this blog to my other blog.
this is about stereotypes again.
I recently finished season 1 of "Orange is the New Black" a netflix original. Its about a "yuppy" woman who had a crazy time after college, got involved with a woman who was in the drug ring, and smuggled some drugs into the country or something. She gets scared being in the middle of the danger, and leaves. 8 years later, yuppy girl is about to be married, and gets arrested for her crime. Its a long and awesome story, so I won't go into detail or spoil it for anyone. But ultimately the show breaks down every type of prison stereotype there is and presents it in a very real way.
My favorite has to be "crazy eyes" Im going to spoil this so...SPOILER ALERT!!! You first meet crazy eyes during the very first lunch room scene. She is eyeing blondie (the yuppy) and motions for her to sit down. Another girl grabs blondie and says "oh you don't want to sit with crazy eyes" and ushers her over to their table. Blondie is having a really hard time adjusting to prison life, being an over priveledged white girl. And crazy eyes notices, so she lends out a helping hand by sharing food and other trivial items. Blondie is thrilled, thinking she finally made a real friend. But crazy eyes gets touchy feeling. Which blondie feeds into a little at first, one for the help and company, but also to keep a personal enemy at bay. It goes a little too far, and Blondie has to let Crazy eyes down gently. Everything is seemly fine. A month or so goes by and Crazy eyes is talking to blondie about her life. Crazy Eyes actually got in jail because she has a legit mental condition that flares up, and causes unorderly conduct. The judge placed her in a prison psych ward. But the psych ward in a prison, is worse than the actual prison. Because they keep you sedated and tied down, or in a cage. So Crazy Eyes mom opted for her to go to prison instead. Blondie is astonished by this discovery. As are the viewers. Then Crazy Eyes asks Blondie "Why do they call me Crazy eyes?"
its clever writing, and now I just sit and wait for season 2.
boo
this is about stereotypes again.
I recently finished season 1 of "Orange is the New Black" a netflix original. Its about a "yuppy" woman who had a crazy time after college, got involved with a woman who was in the drug ring, and smuggled some drugs into the country or something. She gets scared being in the middle of the danger, and leaves. 8 years later, yuppy girl is about to be married, and gets arrested for her crime. Its a long and awesome story, so I won't go into detail or spoil it for anyone. But ultimately the show breaks down every type of prison stereotype there is and presents it in a very real way.
My favorite has to be "crazy eyes" Im going to spoil this so...SPOILER ALERT!!! You first meet crazy eyes during the very first lunch room scene. She is eyeing blondie (the yuppy) and motions for her to sit down. Another girl grabs blondie and says "oh you don't want to sit with crazy eyes" and ushers her over to their table. Blondie is having a really hard time adjusting to prison life, being an over priveledged white girl. And crazy eyes notices, so she lends out a helping hand by sharing food and other trivial items. Blondie is thrilled, thinking she finally made a real friend. But crazy eyes gets touchy feeling. Which blondie feeds into a little at first, one for the help and company, but also to keep a personal enemy at bay. It goes a little too far, and Blondie has to let Crazy eyes down gently. Everything is seemly fine. A month or so goes by and Crazy eyes is talking to blondie about her life. Crazy Eyes actually got in jail because she has a legit mental condition that flares up, and causes unorderly conduct. The judge placed her in a prison psych ward. But the psych ward in a prison, is worse than the actual prison. Because they keep you sedated and tied down, or in a cage. So Crazy Eyes mom opted for her to go to prison instead. Blondie is astonished by this discovery. As are the viewers. Then Crazy Eyes asks Blondie "Why do they call me Crazy eyes?"
its clever writing, and now I just sit and wait for season 2.
boo
This is something I am definitely going to use!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZkXB7eKqPM
I am green today
I chirp with joy like a cricket song.
I am gray today
Gloomy and down like a morning fog.
I am orange today
Loud and messy like finger paint on the wall.
I am red today
Hopping mad like a playground ball.
I am black today
Strong and tall a great big bear.
I am purple today
Bright and happy like a butterfly in the air.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world are in me.
I am yellow today
I shine my light out like the sun.
I am white today
Soft and quite like new snow.
I am blue today
Calm as glass and cool like the sea.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world are in me.
All the colors of the world are in me.
More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/k/kira_willey/
I am green today
I chirp with joy like a cricket song.
I am gray today
Gloomy and down like a morning fog.
I am orange today
Loud and messy like finger paint on the wall.
I am red today
Hopping mad like a playground ball.
I am black today
Strong and tall a great big bear.
I am purple today
Bright and happy like a butterfly in the air.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world are in me.
I am yellow today
I shine my light out like the sun.
I am white today
Soft and quite like new snow.
I am blue today
Calm as glass and cool like the sea.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world.
I'm a rainbow today
All the colors of the world are in me.
All the colors of the world are in me.
More lyrics: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/k/kira_willey/
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
Monday, May 13, 2013
Monday, April 22, 2013
Baby talk
So at work we try to enforce good vocabulary skills to reduce the amount of conflict between the children (sounds like something adults should practice right?)
Instead of pushing another child because they took your toy we ask the child to say "not nice" or "no thank you"
Instead of telling a child to get down or sit down etc we ask them "where do your feet go?" And "how do we sit in a chair?"
I like it, it becomes a struggle bc you have to repeat it so many times. Teaching IS much harder than discipline. So to help me make a habit of this I started saying it in every day life. And we all know I spend a lot of time around Jj, so guess who else has made a habit out of it?
It's painfully cute and funny.
"No no Jj, not nice"
Instead of pushing another child because they took your toy we ask the child to say "not nice" or "no thank you"
Instead of telling a child to get down or sit down etc we ask them "where do your feet go?" And "how do we sit in a chair?"
I like it, it becomes a struggle bc you have to repeat it so many times. Teaching IS much harder than discipline. So to help me make a habit of this I started saying it in every day life. And we all know I spend a lot of time around Jj, so guess who else has made a habit out of it?
It's painfully cute and funny.
"No no Jj, not nice"
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Alternative does not mean BAD
I saw this post and knew instantly who it was. When I was in High School I met a girl who went to the college in town. She was extravagant, over the top, and a little in your face. But I thought she was pretty cool. We rubbed each other the wrong way once while she was leading a BDSM night at the local "hot spot" that I mentored at. So she would routinely kick me out (while I was working on stuff for the place) so she could run the event minor free. Which makes sense, but because of our town she had to be on the down low and couldn't really explain why I had to leave. I just had to leave. So I did.
A few years later I started working as a teacher at the Day Care center I worked part time at in highschool. Guess who else was working there! Yep that same girl. And she was still just as radical. At that point she had a steady boyfriend AND a girlfriend, who would soon be her boyfriend, and went by a mans name. She eventually married the straight dude, and parted ways with her transgendered friend. But that is NOT the story here. The cool thing about her is that she was COMPLETELY open about her "private" life. It wasn't a secret, and the one thing I loved about that place is that my boss at the time, was very open to alternative lifestyles. The facility was tattoo and piercing friendly, we did not have uniforms, and we taught the children to be open minded just by example. Shortly after I started she left to be a dancer in Richmond. We all said goodbye and good luck.
This post is so true because she is the SWEETEST person. She does what she has to do every once in a while, to survive. But shes a sweet person. And people say that about me often. I always get told, or people get told about me that "She is a very cool girl, she is super nice, and friendly but... she is kinda...weird." or " She is a bit strange, but I know you will like her." It is almost as if people have to be prepped for me. (and for this girl)
I do not look as goth as I use to, due to time and wanted the fighting to end. And the harassment. Seriously if you think High School was bad, you have NO IDEA WHAT THE ADULT WORLD IS LIKE. well at least for a goth.
for those of you who are reading this from a non goth view point, goth is not slitting wrists and worshiping satan. there is a much deeper involvement and lifestyle that "classifies" the goth movement. Otherwise do you really think so many people, of all ages, all races, all backrounds, and all religions would be into it? I am sure I will have a blog specifically about being a goth and what it means, but this is not that blog so I am moving on. (if you are a goth, and don't like being classified as such, or think its stupid. You are a snooty person, get over it gothling)
moving on.
My point on this blog is to really stress that the SCARIEST looking people are often the nicest people you will meet.
Through pain and suffering we find peace. right?
I have a friend who is like 6'5" and has dreads down to his ass, and piercings, and frankenstein tattoos. And he is constantly getting looked at like a monster. People are scared of him. NOBODY looks at his face, he has the kindest face and the silliest personality. He cracks jokes 99% of the time. He is quiet and gentle.
Think about this. Big dogs always think they are small dogs, small dogs always think they are big dogs.
Its not HUMAN nature, its just nature.
I know it's hard to not judge people, I know we all do it everyday. But if we all made a conscious effort to not judge based on attire, appearance, sexual preference (and yes that even means fetishes, just because someone likes having the snot beat out of them does not make them a bad person, that shit is private), religious affiliation (remember we are all spirits having a human experience), or anything.
Take a minute to get to know the person. Take a day to get to know a person, don't just write them off.
You will regret it
its simple, just be aware.
Friday, April 12, 2013
Live together die alone
Ok I know that is from lost... I'm sort of addicted
3 years ago I thought my teaching career was shot. I was 18 years old and was holding a temp position Riverheads Elementary School teaching the art classes for each grade level. I was suppose to teach the second semester because the school budget only allowed enough money in the budget for one teacher to be spilt between two schools. The PTA at Riverheads raised the money to hire a temp (me) so their children could have art all year. I was stoked to have the position. Being an art teacher had been a long time wish for me (I have many life goals) and now I was given the chance. I had some teaching experience from mentor ships and working at a daycare after school. So the principle had no issue hiring me, except for my appearance. At the time in addition to having a shaves sides hairstyle, I also had some dreads and multiple facial Piercings. I agreed to hide my septum and take out my lip ring as well as wear wigs to work. It didn't seem like a big deal to me. However the president of the PTA was not thrilled with me, regardless of how much I was altering myself to have the opportunity. This parent begun to rally parents against me. When I went to get finger printed, she made a fuss about my attire. I
Believe i was wearing my large boots, and had all my piercings stilI in. I did not think it would matter at the point because I wasn't on the clock and I wouldn't be seeing anyone but the person finger printing me, but it was a problem. So a few days later she had the principle call me and warn me that I am a "teacher" now and that I need to act and look appropriate. Which I thought was extremely rude and out of line. I went out if my way to insure I'd look and act the part at work, and I went out of my way to get finger printed, and you have the ignorance to fuss about my attire? When I'm not even working for u yet?! So I got on Facebook, to tell my friends that I believe I had been targeted (again) just for being different. I explained what had happened in a post and put at the end a phrase me and my friends used frequently when we were upset. "Ass-fuck"
I started the following week. It was a series of bullshit from the start. First I spent a bunch of time off the clock organizing my room so I'd be ready. Then once I started teaching I was preached to daily, about one thing or another. One day the principal pulled me in the office to tell me they monitor what I look at on the classroom computer. They wanted to know what Vampire Freaks was. I explained that I use that site to stream music. I assured them I only use it during my planning period, while there are no kids in the room, and it's better than the radio. They let it slide but asked me to not use the computer for anything other than school. So I agreed. That was week two.
The next week was surreal. I could've sworn someone was following me. Home, to friends, out of town even! I couldn't shake the feeling. The 4th week we got a massive snow storm which caused out school to close for the following two weeks.
The Friday before returning to work I received a call from the PTA president telling me I was terminated because of my Facebook content. I argued that I wanted a more solid answer than that, so she told me I could come to the PTA meeting that week for a solid answer, and to collect my stuff and return the key.
Over the weekend parents were informed about my termination and my phone started to ring nonstop. A bunch of parents were outraged saying their kids loved me and had so much fun in my class! And that they would stand behind me and try to get me my position back at the PTA meeting.
When I got to the PTA meeting there were two tables. One which had parents who wanted me to stay and one with parents who wanted me gone it was about even. The meeting started slow, but before long, we were on the topic about me. The president of the PTA stood up and begin presenting photos of me from Facebook.
Saying that she doesn't have a Facebook and has no idea how to use Facebook but the photos were brought to her attention via email from other parents. She had pics of me at a club I go to, dancing. She had pics of me hanging out with my friends, and the only point she was making was that I looked scary. But what was really scary was that a few if the photos were not from my Facebook in fact I had never seen those photos in my life! So I spoke up. "How did you get those photos? Did you take them? If so why were you following me?" That made the room explode. People started arguing the two sides screaming at each other "your just a bunch of hicks!" "Yea well your a bunch of freaks!" I was quickly exported to a side room with the principal, vice principal, and president if the PTA. My father and my fathers GF came in the room with me. They sat me down and explained that the defining point wasn't the photos, it was a post I had made on Facebook about "anal sex" confused I asked to see the post, it was the post I had posted well over a month ago using the term "ass-fucked" I busted out laughing "are you serious?!?" They said they did not appreciate being referred to in that way, and putting it on FB was the equivalent to writing it on my classroom door. "I posted that over a month ago, who is combing through my Facebook? I post about 8 times a day on average, multiply that by 30 odd days. Someone was hunting!" The president instantly spoke up saying that she doesn't have a Facebook, and has no idea how to use it, that it was copy and pasted and sent to her via email." "Then how the hell do you know I actually said it?!" I had no idea why they were so quick to get rid of me over a post none of them had actually seen. Angry I grabbed my stuff and left.
That night I looked up the face books of the principal, the vice principal, and the PTA president. I was so hurt. They lied to me. I also found out it was the presidents husband who was following me around.
The local newspaper printed my story, emails and calls poured in for a while but eventually it just became old news.
Now all I want to do is find those people and tell them 1. I am still teaching and loving it 2. I hope all of them experience the hate and betrayal I felt, so they know what it feels like 3. And lastly I hope they grow from it. For everyone's sake.
I still think about their hate and their ignorance. I don't understand it. It still happens on a small scale now. I don't have as many Piercings or dreads anymore but it's obviously I'm not run of the mill. I still get outcasted regularly. The thing about teaching is that the children accept me, they are not scared of me. And I am a damn good teacher.
I found this in one of the books on the shelf in my classroom, and I love it and it inspired me to share my story.
It's from the story "new kid in town" by Claire freedman
"Come on everyone" said mouse. "Big wolf may look wild and scary, but it's not his fault he's hairy. And although his eyes are yellow, he's a friendly kind fellow!"
"Hmmm," said badger. "I suppose he's never really done anyone any harm."
"That's true," said giraffe,"maybe we should give him a chance!"
3 years ago I thought my teaching career was shot. I was 18 years old and was holding a temp position Riverheads Elementary School teaching the art classes for each grade level. I was suppose to teach the second semester because the school budget only allowed enough money in the budget for one teacher to be spilt between two schools. The PTA at Riverheads raised the money to hire a temp (me) so their children could have art all year. I was stoked to have the position. Being an art teacher had been a long time wish for me (I have many life goals) and now I was given the chance. I had some teaching experience from mentor ships and working at a daycare after school. So the principle had no issue hiring me, except for my appearance. At the time in addition to having a shaves sides hairstyle, I also had some dreads and multiple facial Piercings. I agreed to hide my septum and take out my lip ring as well as wear wigs to work. It didn't seem like a big deal to me. However the president of the PTA was not thrilled with me, regardless of how much I was altering myself to have the opportunity. This parent begun to rally parents against me. When I went to get finger printed, she made a fuss about my attire. I
Believe i was wearing my large boots, and had all my piercings stilI in. I did not think it would matter at the point because I wasn't on the clock and I wouldn't be seeing anyone but the person finger printing me, but it was a problem. So a few days later she had the principle call me and warn me that I am a "teacher" now and that I need to act and look appropriate. Which I thought was extremely rude and out of line. I went out if my way to insure I'd look and act the part at work, and I went out of my way to get finger printed, and you have the ignorance to fuss about my attire? When I'm not even working for u yet?! So I got on Facebook, to tell my friends that I believe I had been targeted (again) just for being different. I explained what had happened in a post and put at the end a phrase me and my friends used frequently when we were upset. "Ass-fuck"
I started the following week. It was a series of bullshit from the start. First I spent a bunch of time off the clock organizing my room so I'd be ready. Then once I started teaching I was preached to daily, about one thing or another. One day the principal pulled me in the office to tell me they monitor what I look at on the classroom computer. They wanted to know what Vampire Freaks was. I explained that I use that site to stream music. I assured them I only use it during my planning period, while there are no kids in the room, and it's better than the radio. They let it slide but asked me to not use the computer for anything other than school. So I agreed. That was week two.
The next week was surreal. I could've sworn someone was following me. Home, to friends, out of town even! I couldn't shake the feeling. The 4th week we got a massive snow storm which caused out school to close for the following two weeks.
The Friday before returning to work I received a call from the PTA president telling me I was terminated because of my Facebook content. I argued that I wanted a more solid answer than that, so she told me I could come to the PTA meeting that week for a solid answer, and to collect my stuff and return the key.
Over the weekend parents were informed about my termination and my phone started to ring nonstop. A bunch of parents were outraged saying their kids loved me and had so much fun in my class! And that they would stand behind me and try to get me my position back at the PTA meeting.
When I got to the PTA meeting there were two tables. One which had parents who wanted me to stay and one with parents who wanted me gone it was about even. The meeting started slow, but before long, we were on the topic about me. The president of the PTA stood up and begin presenting photos of me from Facebook.
Saying that she doesn't have a Facebook and has no idea how to use Facebook but the photos were brought to her attention via email from other parents. She had pics of me at a club I go to, dancing. She had pics of me hanging out with my friends, and the only point she was making was that I looked scary. But what was really scary was that a few if the photos were not from my Facebook in fact I had never seen those photos in my life! So I spoke up. "How did you get those photos? Did you take them? If so why were you following me?" That made the room explode. People started arguing the two sides screaming at each other "your just a bunch of hicks!" "Yea well your a bunch of freaks!" I was quickly exported to a side room with the principal, vice principal, and president if the PTA. My father and my fathers GF came in the room with me. They sat me down and explained that the defining point wasn't the photos, it was a post I had made on Facebook about "anal sex" confused I asked to see the post, it was the post I had posted well over a month ago using the term "ass-fucked" I busted out laughing "are you serious?!?" They said they did not appreciate being referred to in that way, and putting it on FB was the equivalent to writing it on my classroom door. "I posted that over a month ago, who is combing through my Facebook? I post about 8 times a day on average, multiply that by 30 odd days. Someone was hunting!" The president instantly spoke up saying that she doesn't have a Facebook, and has no idea how to use it, that it was copy and pasted and sent to her via email." "Then how the hell do you know I actually said it?!" I had no idea why they were so quick to get rid of me over a post none of them had actually seen. Angry I grabbed my stuff and left.
That night I looked up the face books of the principal, the vice principal, and the PTA president. I was so hurt. They lied to me. I also found out it was the presidents husband who was following me around.
The local newspaper printed my story, emails and calls poured in for a while but eventually it just became old news.
Now all I want to do is find those people and tell them 1. I am still teaching and loving it 2. I hope all of them experience the hate and betrayal I felt, so they know what it feels like 3. And lastly I hope they grow from it. For everyone's sake.
I still think about their hate and their ignorance. I don't understand it. It still happens on a small scale now. I don't have as many Piercings or dreads anymore but it's obviously I'm not run of the mill. I still get outcasted regularly. The thing about teaching is that the children accept me, they are not scared of me. And I am a damn good teacher.
I found this in one of the books on the shelf in my classroom, and I love it and it inspired me to share my story.
It's from the story "new kid in town" by Claire freedman
"Come on everyone" said mouse. "Big wolf may look wild and scary, but it's not his fault he's hairy. And although his eyes are yellow, he's a friendly kind fellow!"
"Hmmm," said badger. "I suppose he's never really done anyone any harm."
"That's true," said giraffe,"maybe we should give him a chance!"
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