It doesn’t even matter! If we all looked at life and the world the same way, we’d be nothing but little, or not so little, robots all going the same direction and doing things the same way and how blah would that be.  It wasn’t so long ago that all wanted to do was bite someone’s head off, chew it up and spit it out, if they didn’t think like me or und
Posted on 27 April '11 by isurvived, under Uncategorized. No Comments.
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Posted on 8 March '11 by isurvived, under Uncategorized. No Comments.
I shared my two cents worth of my opinion on Yahoo and MPR regarding the shooting of Gabriel Giffords. My first thoughts are not always my most intelligent. I reacted to the several inhumane statements that were being offered.
There is blame flying all over the place and so much hate. It’s too freakin’ scary. People saying they hope she (Giffords) dies, blaming Sarah Palin like she’s the one who pulled the trigger, and then the guy who was blaming the lack of border patrol…crazy.
I don’t know what caused this guy to pull the trigger, but I am quite certain it was whatever went on in his own mind and nothing Sarah Palin said and for sure, it didn’t have anything to do with border patrol, that created enough hate to actually shoot Giffords.
My first husband was an abusive, falling down drunk.  I can remember one night sleeping with a knife under my pillow and praying that he died in a car accident that night. He didn’t die and I didn’t have to use the knife, but in the sobering light of the next day, we both realized I would have used it if I had to.  Did that make me mentally unstable? Probably at that particular moment.
When we found out that my sick, perverted brother was manipulating our mother out of her savings to pay for a Filipino bride, I felt like I could have done him in.  Every time I looked at him or thought about him I had visions of beating him into the ground with a shovel.  I didn’t think he deserved to live, but I didn’t feel it was my place to take him out.  It wasn’t that I wasn’t angry enough, but I knew it wasn’t right.  It took me awhile to work through it.  I think he’s a pathetic human being but it’s not my place decide his fate.
Why the difference in my reaction between my first husband and my brother?  Survival, fear, and self defense may have been my motivation with my ex, but the fact that I was in an alcoholic, dysfunctional situation and an alcoholic myself, was the underlying factor then. No one came to me and said, “you need help”.  It took years after that for me to realize I needed help.  If people around me thought I needed help they didn’t say it to me.  I may not have listened anyway, who knows.  AA, therapy and God is what helped me to sober up and stay sober for over 30 years. It could change so every day I make a conscious decision to stay sober and try to be a decent human being. So, when this incident with my brother came up, I was able to work through it.  It wasn’t easy, because, on that note, let me go a step further. He is also a pedophile.  Never convicted.  My anger towards him was twofold when the situation with our mother came about.  My sister and I tried to get people to listen.  We talked to as many authorities as we could.  Many came forward but no one pressed charges.  He goes to the same church I do.  I told everyone with kids and I talked with our bishop. People didn’t want to hear it or know it because then they didn’t have to deal with it.  If he abuses someone’s child that goes to our church it will be devastating. Who, at that point, is to blame?
It wasn’t totally without some success.  We managed to get him let go from a job of driving bus for after school activities and summer sports for kids.  Our dad left him the house in the event of our mom’s death in some sort of life estate provision because they always felt sorry for the $*#%head.  We had to hire an attorney but we got mom out of the life estate and if he wanted the place he would have to buy it.
My point is, we all have breaking points, but if we are “stable” we know we can’t act on crazy thoughts.  There was a time I could have acted on such a thought, but for the “grace of God”, I didn’t.  After reading some of the posts on Yahoo, how many “mentally unstable” people are out there?  They can’t all be reached or helped before they do something crazy.  At what point do they become postal?  What about the parents of the little girl that was killed?  Maybe they’re stable enough to know it won’t bring their little girl back, but do they feel like doing him in?  If my brother abused one of my grandchildren what would I actually do?  The thought sends chills through me as I write this because even though I know the difference between right and wrong would I have an instance of reacting first, thinking later?  At that point, what would separate me from Giffords’ shooter?  I am in no way condoning or defending this shooter and his actions.  There is no splitting hairs, it was wrong, no matter his mental stability.
I hope to never be in that position. What I feel after all this is very sad.  Sad that it happened and hope with all my heart that all families involved can heal from such a tragedy. Thank heavens for the good people who, without thinking of themselves first, did the humane thing and helped.  They all deserve our highest praise.  They certainly didn’t have time to think, “If I do this heroic thing, think of all the good things people will be saying about me.”  They reacted in a heroic way without thinking anything but, “I need to help”. I hope I am never in that position as well, but if I were, I hope I would be the same kind of human being as they were at that moment.
Instead of those famous words from Tiny Tim, “God bless us, everyone”, we need to be saying, “God, help us, everyone!”
Posted on 11 January '11 by isurvived, under Uncategorized. No Comments.
Nope. There is no weight loss to report, but I haven’t given up hope. There is a plan out there for me and when I find it…
That’s not why I am here today. I don’t like this site and so I’ve shied away from getting on here, but today I thought I would give it another try.  I like letting off steam this way and so, here I am, letting off some steam.Â
Fact:Â Most bosses, or the administrative personal you work for, are not cut out to be so, but they do make more money than you do, and they have the right to tell you what to do.Â
Insight: Does that make them smarter than you? Does that make them better than you? No, but guess what…they certainly think so.Â
Problem: How do you maintain a decent attitude towards your job when the person, or people,  you have to work for don’t really know what he, or she, or they, are doing?Â
Answer: I give up. I don’t have an answer because I don’t know how to do it. So, I am taking a huge, huge risk and I am getting out to start my own business. I hope to God that I will be a better “boss” than most I have worked for. I have worked for a few over the years and three, only three, come to mind as wonderful people to work for and they all share the same qualities. Respect for their employees, praise where praise was due, kind discipline where it was needed, a listening ear and trust.Â
I’ve been in the work force over 30 years. I love to work. I love the public. I love my job. The place where I work could be a wonderful place to work if the people at the top had those qualities. They are very successful, certainly not middle income. To whom do they owe their success?  Hmmm… All the schooling, intelligence and skill wouldn’t do them a bit of good if they didn’t have all us “little people” to do the dirty work.Â
My leaving won’t change a thing there, but it will change my life for the better. Finding kind, positive words to say when I give my notice will be a challange. It is in my nature to say exactly what is on my mind and let them know ALL the reasons I am leaving. However, it would be beneficial to my future to say only nice things and leave on a good note. I haven’t really made up my mind on that yet. I know you’re thinking it’s a no-brainer, but not when you’re me. I will have to search long and hard for a way to say things nicely but yet, get my point across.Â
I’d better start soon because it will need to be revised several times.
Posted on 8 January '11 by isurvived, under Uncategorized. No Comments.
I will not give up. I make take a few scenic tours, but I will not give up trying to lose this weight. I didn’t give up my love affair with the Schwan’s guy. I am curtailing my purchases but there are items they have that I just love. I would list them but I can’t think of their real names.  And, I cannot give up Diet Coke. I tried.  Although there are no calories, if I drink enough, I could float in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade!   I don’t drink as many as I did and I am trying to throw in a bottle of water here and there. I am eating less, but not counting calories. If I had time to count calories, I would have time to clean my house, go for a walk, do my laundry, etc. I can’t count calories but I can eat less and I can eat better. More fruit, more veggies, less bread, no chips (or very few chips)(or maybe one day I can eat all the chips I want). My two favorite foods in the whole world and beyond are BBQ potato chips and ice cream. Numero Uno at the top of the favorites list. How long is that list? Long, very long. And, what happened to the “Take Five” McFlurry at McDonald’s? Three picks, what is that? Oreos (crunchy, yes, salty, no), M&Ms (crunchy, maybe, salty, no) and Reese’s PB ( maybe a tad salty, crunchy, no). It’s a struggle. It’s like saying goodbye to old friends who just made you feel better. I look at old friends in the grocery store like you look at old photographs and remember when. There is an overwhelming sadness. But, “I will survive”. “I am woman, watch me roar”. “I can bring home the bacon, fry it up in the pan”. Oops, that one doesn’t belong there!  You don’t realize, because you don’t know me, but I have gained one whole me since I was pregnant at 16.  A whole freakin’ 16 year old teenager and I am not any taller. When I see those gorgeous, hunky basketball players running around on the court and then that bio strip comes on with one player’s stats and I weigh more then he does, well #%@*, out come the BBQ chips and the ice cream. But, no more! I have a plan B. I have a plan C, D, E and F waiting in the wings.  Plan B is on its way from e-bay. Roller skates! Not roller blades, roller skates! I live right by the Paul Bunyan Trail. It occurred to me the other day that I could do something besides walk on it! I used to roller skate. I skated like you see those kids pushing themselves with one foot while on a skateboard. What the heck, if it burns calories, I’m good. And maybe, just maybe I could get good enough to join the Babe City Rollers. A girl can dream!!
Posted on 17 August '10 by isurvived, under Uncategorized. 2 Comments.
I wasn’t thinking I was going to have to become a detective to make this new “Area Voices” work for me. Slowly, I think I am working my way around it and perhaps once I figure it out I will like it.  I did just notice the Upload/Insert icons above here and the sidebar looks like it could be helpful. I’m not good with change unless I’m the one who initiates it, but I think I can do it.  I did post a comment somewhere and I did e-mail administration, but I’m thinking I can do this…maybe.
Posted on 15 August '10 by isurvived, under Uncategorized. No Comments.
Now that I have run my own checking account into the ground, closed my credit cards and have agreed to break off my relationship with the Schwan’s guy, I have come to a fork in the road. Oh, did I say fork? Fork, food, hmmm.
Like the guy in Twilight salivating over what’s her name’s blood, knowing that he can’t have it, is exactly how I feel about credit cards and food that isn’t good for me.
When those little plastic cards come in the mail with 0% all over the envelope I cry as I throw them away. When people hand me their credit card at work to pay their bill, I grieve the loss of my own credit card family; Capitol One 1, Capitol One 2, Discover, Scheels, the Visa with the Statue of Liberty on it, JC Penney, Kohls.
OK, so I still have the numbers to the Scheels one on a piece of paper in my purse because the sales lady wanted me to have it so I could use it until I got my card but when it came in the mail I shredded it. Not so hard knowing the numbers were in my purse. And, I do have a real Herberger’s one. But, to my credit (pun intended), I’ve haven’t used either one since I paid for the initial purchase. Both times I applied for a card because I got an extra 10% off my already great sales purchase.
At Scheels I also got TWO free gifts! Two caps that say Scheels! I gave the caps to my husband (he never wears them) and the 18” partridge feathered doily is on the back of a recliner in my living room. It’s beautiful.
At Herberger’s I found these really cool boots made just for me when they had their “70% off the already on sale price” and then another 10% off if you applied for a credit card which made them only twenty bucks! Did I have $20? Maybe, but you couldn’t get the deal unless you put it on the card. They will look so good on me when I’ve lost the weight and I’m on the back of the Harley. I can’t get them on my feet right now because of my high arch but I‘m thinking once the weight is gone I‘ll have better luck. They still look really cool sitting on the shoe rack in the entry way just like they did when sitting on the shoe rack at Herberger‘s. I’ll let you know when they get on my feet.
Those are not the last of my insane purchases, but they are the last of my charged purchases. I will still fall for a “really good deal” and a debit card feels like a credit card, except now it comes out of a joint checking account and we all know who has access to that. OK, there can be ways around that too, like paperless statements and one of us not being too computer savvy, but, I can print on demand.
I can accidentally rip out the duplicate of a written check to buy a little more time because, again, I print on demand. I also like to keep some purchases in the back seat or the trunk of my car for awhile. Somehow that makes them not so new when I finally bring them in the house and I claim that I was too tired to bring them in at the time and that is what I say to myself at the time.
Oh yes, every bit as cunning as an alcoholic hiding booze and that is a hard truth for me.
As I said in my previous writing, it’s easier to manipulate and rationalize spending and eating food than drinking.
This blog is one way for me deal with the frustrations of fighting those battles and in the end, winning the war. It’s like journaling. My confession about food I’ll save for a later post. Oh, did I say “save for”? Savor, food, hmmm.
I woke up this morning, a cloudy day, still tired and not really feeling like doing anything. I know that feeling all too well and I know that there is something going on that causes the feeling to come over me. Then I have to sit down and think about the cause of this feeling.
It is an ongoing battle inside me. What do I want out of this life and what do I think others want from me out of this life. My perception of both is usually wrong and it will remain so until I come to grips with what is real. I’ve struggled with reality all my life and because of that I have struggled with depression and addiction. I struggle with depression and addiction because while growing up no one took notice that this child needed some guidance, discipline, understanding, patience and love. It’s no one’s fault because you can’t give what you don’t have.
There was a desire to care and to love but no one knew how to do it. There were generations of desiring love and wanting to show love but it could never really surface. Violence, drinking and sexual innuendos were dominant and it became the norm and that is how I perceived life and how it was supposed to be lived even though I knew deep down inside that wasn’t the way. There had to be a better way but I had no clue how to find it and so I lived what I knew.
That is when depression took root and addiction blossomed. There is no way to feel happy when you’re surrounded by dark clouds and rain continuously with only a few fleeting moments of sunshine barely peeking through those dark clouds. I wanted someone to care. I wanted someone to know that I was alive and I wanted to matter to someone. I cared. I cared about others. I had feelings. I hurt when others hurt. I felt sad when others felt sad. I felt scared when others felt scared. I cried when others cried. I laughed when things were funny. I felt good when there were good times but never really happy because I knew it was only for a short time and things would go the other way.
It’s hard to describe it all now because my memory is tainted by counseling and understanding some of what went on back then. I can describe the depression. I was always alone. Even when surrounded by family or friends, I was always alone because I wasn’t really good enough to even be with them. I thought I was but when I tried to tell them or show them I was always beat down. Not physically but with words; stinging words that let me know I wasn’t good, I wasn’t smart and I wasn’t worth loving. If they just took the time to know me they would see that I was all those things and the battle became proving I was good, I was smart and I was worth loving. But the fight was too overwhelming and I began to believe it myself and that caused the depression. It was depression that caused me to look for other ways to feel good and one day I was offered a bottle of beer and I felt good. I didn’t hurt, I didn’t feel sad and I found friends. It was a whole new world and this was the answer. I had found what I was looking for. It had been there in front of me all this time. You drink it away, and I did, starting that one afternoon, the summer between 6th and 7th grade, in some cemetery in Laporte with friends and a case of warm beer.
Then I knew what I wanted. I wanted to get out of that place called home as often as I could to drink and find that place of feeling good and being around “friends”. Friends who passed no judgment. Friends who looked at me and thought I was good looking, smart, funny and worth hanging around with. If I was worth kissing and wanting to have sex with then I must be worthwhile. I had arrived. I took the first offer that came along and married him at 16. I do need to clarify that I may have done a lot of kissing but I didn’t go around sleeping with every guy I kissed. I was too scared to go that far but it was the fact that they wanted to have sex that made me feel good.
So, at 16 I became a wife and at 17 I became a mother. I was going to be a damn good wife and a damn good mother. My marriage and my family would be way better than what I grew up in. HA! The seventies was a roller coaster of craziness. Highs and lows and just plain crazy. Marriage, kids, drinking, fighting, divorce, marriage, kids, drinking, fighting, and almost divorce. But, there was some really good music!
Then came the eighties and change was on the horizon. Somewhere inside me is a core of strength. It’s a God given core and I don’t know why he gave it to me but I am thankful for it. As I said before, I knew there had to be a better way. I started by going to counseling. It was good and it was not so good all at the same time. The good was that that is where I discovered that drinking was a problem and I could no longer drink to solve my other problems. What I never learned from the first couple years of counseling was that I was depressed. After stopping drinking and after counseling I kept waiting for all the wonderful things that were suppose to happen after the drinking stopped. Even though I was sober for many years things still were not good because of the depression. AA was no help. To me AA was a bunch of sober people talking about how the bottom line was that they wanted to get drunk and as long as they focused on not drinking their life was better. I didn’t want to get drunk. I wanted to feel better but I wasn’t. Again, let me clarify these statements. AA didn’t work for me. It is a great program and I know many fine people that it does work for.
If none of that was helping then it had to be me. I couldn’t feel better unless I drank so it had to be me and everyone from the beginning was right, I wasn’t lovable, I wasn’t smart or worth caring about and that caused a great deal of anger. Who would get the brunt of that anger? My husband, my kids and anyone else that pissed me off. The anger covered up the overwhelming sadness that I wasn’t worth anything and that I couldn’t convince people that I was worth something. I didn’t want to keep hurting those around me but I didn’t know how to stop the cycle and that’s when the thoughts of suicide start coming. Subtle at first and I remember my first one quite clearly. There was a scissors lying on an end table. I looked at it and wondered what it would be like if just picked it up and jabbed it into my stomach. I had had thoughts before about driving off the road and hitting a tree but they were fleeting and I knew I wasn’t going to do it. This time I actually thought I could do it and it scared the hell out of me. I was shaking and scared. I drove to town to tell my husband at his work. He didn’t really listen and didn’t really know what to say. He just kept working. I’m sure he doesn’t even remember the conversation and yet, I remember it like it was yesterday. I throw this tidbit in because, again, I wasn’t being listened to.
I would push the thoughts away not understanding why they came because I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to live the way I was but I didn’t want to die. As more time passed the thoughts of taking my own life changed to seeing people all bloody. Then I knew I had to talk to somebody because I was sure I was going crazy.
I first saw a psychologist, who sent me to psychiatrist, who sent me down to the University of MN for an evaluation. No one said at the time but I believe they wanted to know if they should put me somewhere or could they treat me independently. I think I would have preferred to be put somewhere but they didn’t. They put me on medication and I went to therapy. I have been on medication ever since, over 25 years, in and out of therapy and suspect I will until I leave this earth. I no longer have suicidal thoughts and I’ve not seen any bloody people since. I throw that tidbit in just so you don’t have to wonder.
The thing is, and why I am sitting down to write this today, I have never dealt with the real root of the problem. My self image and letting go of what others think my image should be. I will be 56 years old and I have yet to discover and let out the real me for fear of rejection, fear of losing the love of my husband, my kids and grandkids.
One side of me is tough, angry and uncaring and the other side of me is kind, loving and caring. I have feelings reeling through me constantly and the depression is still with me, just to a lighter degree. I call it functional depression because I can mask it fairly well. I deal with it by eating and spending. As hard as I try to lose the weight the depression wins out because I eat to feel good, only it has the opposite affect, just like the drinking did. I spend money to feel good but it too has the opposite affect. Eating causes guilt and spending money causes guilt. Living life causes guilt. I deal with that guilt by eating and spending because I can’t drink and eating and spending doesn’t bring the same high that drinking did so in my mind that is safer. I won’t gamble, I won’t drink and I won’t take drugs by choice because those three things I know I can’t handle, but eating and money is something that is there every day and I can manipulate both of these to some degree. I’m actually pretty good at manipulating and rationalizing.
This all brings me to the present. I am the only one who can do anything about it. I know what I am now but what will I be if things change within me and I win the battle of me? Who will I be and what will the outcome be?
There are things that I like about me. I am smart. I do know things and I do have some intuitive ability. I believe in God. I say things that are real and not passive. I love my husband. I love my kids. I love my grandkids and my great granddaughter. I love nature and the beauty of it. I like me when I am all alone and I am thinking and doing things my own way. I love the way I do my job. I am creative and I do have a sense of humor however morbid it may get sometimes. I love to swear but I try to keep it out of church or anything religious. I try to not take God’s name in vain. Swear words, to me, are just words of expression.
I don’t like that I forget things, sometimes very important things, and I don’t know why. I don’t like that I am fat. I don’t like it that I cry when I’m mad. I don’t like that I am pulled in too many directions.
What am I ready to change about myself? What do I want to keep and what do I want to get rid of? Can I do it without expecting anybody else to change because I am changing?
Life is not going to stop because I am changing. People are not going to change because I am changing. I need to accept that some people will not like the changes but that does not mean that they will stop loving me. But that is one fear that I have.
I can change what I eat and I can change how much I exercise. I can change how much money I spend. Watching what I spend is just as horrifying as watching what I eat. Although I have made some good strides in that area there is a ways to go.
My goal is to love myself, be confident in myself, to look good and to feel good. The rest will come after that. It seems selfish to want to look good, but that is a reality, I want to look good. I want to tuck my shirt into a pair of jeans and look good. No rolls, no big belly, no fat ass. I don’t care about getting older or having character lines in my face. I’ve earned every character line I have. I want men to look at me and then I want to be faithful to my husband because he is the one who deserves me because he is the one who stood by me. I want them to say, “that man is a lucky guy!” I want to live a long, long time to see all my grandkids, my great grandkids, grow up and get married and I want to be healthy enough to enjoy the rest of my time on earth but not be a burden to my family. I want to enjoy my creativity by writing, painting, drawing and sharing my view of the world with everyone else. I want to leave my mark on the world in a good way. I want to be a good influence on my grandchildren and help them to see the world in a positive way. If I achieve these goals before I die then I will have finished my life successfully.
This will seem sappy but I believe I will only achieve these goals as long as I stay true to God and myself because I would not be here if He hadn’t given me the strength to keep looking for a better way. If I pass nothing else on I hope I pass on that we need to keep moving forward, we need to keep searching and never give up. To give up, for me, is to die. I want to live and give and quit looking for people to make allowances for poor pitiful me because my life was so dysfunctional.
I have a sign that my daughter gave me that says "Our Family Puts the Fun in DysFUNctional". On that note I’ll put this writing to rest and live to conquer another day!
Posted on 20 July '10 by isurvived, under Uncategorized. No Comments.
I love parades. It’s the 4th of July kind of thing to do. Even if it isn’t the best of parades, it’s still a parade with people having fun, kids running after candy and politicians passing out stickers that nobody really wants but we take them anyway. For me it’s tradition and I’m thankful that there are enough people out there who still want to take the time to decorate a float, sweat in their band uniforms, throw the candy and shake the hands of people they don’t even know hoping for a vote. I’m thrilled to see that people still take their hats off and place it, or their hand, over their heart when our flag goes by. Then come the fireworks and finding just the right spot and even though we have seen fireworks before, we enjoy watching the little ones who think they are beautiful and every year we go, "Oooh!" and "Awhhh!", just like it’s out first time too.
It would be sad if there were no more parades or no more fireworks. It’s tradition and it’s tradition that makes us feel, for this time and place, all is right with the world.
Happy 4th of July!
Posted on 4 July '10 by isurvived, under Uncategorized. No Comments.
I am a patriotic person. I love freedom. I love the right to vote. I love walking out my front door knowing that my front yard is not a war zone. My heart goes out to families who have lost loved ones in the military and I thank them as well for enduring that loss for our freedom. My husband, father, brother, father-in-law are all veterans. I give them thanks for taking time out of their lives to be a part of what keeps this country safe and free. I don’t love war but I do believe it is a necessary part of life to defend what we have. Some are willing to lay down their lives for it and they deserve our utmost respect and gratitude. Thank you to all veterans, past, present and future.
Posted on 31 May '10 by isurvived, under Uncategorized. No Comments.
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