Tortured Genius and the Final Conclusion

Be Yourself - Audioslave
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WC5FdFlUcl0

To Thine Own Self Be True. It's not an easy mantra to live by but I tried. We are all influenced by various factors in our lives. Traumatic events, abuse, self-doubt and with the constant bombardment of "Hollywood Perfection" we struggle to cope with self-love. Not easy to accept and be yourself. I think I was mostly successful.

By the time I had my children, I liked myself pretty well. Yeah, maybe lose that excess baby weight but, as a person, I could look in the mirror or in the eyes of my children and know I was okay! Although I was at times terrified knowing that I could not call my mom for her sage wisdom and advise, I was in fact ready for motherhood and knew I could rock that role! Go ME!

That was the kind of self-confidence I was dealing with at that time of my life.

Ten years later, I had made the decision to part ways with my then husband. I told the kids we would be moving wherever I got a job. I ended up with a job in the Toronto area and so we packed up our lives and moved. Life was good and after settling down I had a quick change of employeers to the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board. I had a split school situation that year and to find my place in the organization, I chose to find a location the following year where I could be full time in one setting.

That year I met the first two of three Terri's that would come to mean a whole lot to me, they were classroom teachers. The student I worked with was amazing, the staff at the school was great. It was a wonderful time. Financially I had to take a second job teaching piano to make ends meet as support from the ex was not forthcoming.

It was the third year with the board that things changed. The school, staff and student were all the same but the classroom teacher was different. She believed my role to be "slave" for my CP student rather than assistant. She said I was working myself out of a job. She insisted on everything being done for him before he even decided himself that he wanted help. She made my role in her classroom very uncomfortable but I sucked it up. I didn't realize that there was a profound change in my demeanour until the custodian commented that I never smile anymore. On my breaks, I would write profusely about what was going on and she took great offence to that thinking I was writing untruths about her. My daily planner never left my side and I pleaded with the powers that be to cut me some slack.

The family of my student moved the following year so a transfer of location was in the cards for me too. As an aside, the parents of the student were aware that I was being handcuffed from doing my job as they saw a regression in the ability of their son. He was refusing to do anything independently whether it was put his coat on or propel his own wheelchair, even practicing with the walker had taken a dramatic slide. Years later I met them in a store and they reminded me how valuable I had been for their son compared to the other support he has had. It made me feel grateful that I had been able to tough it out for his sake and the validation of a job well done didn't hurt either.

It is difficult for me every September on that first day meeting all the new students and with increasing frequency for me, new staff as well. But as many difficulties we face in life we "suck it up". And so I did. It was really no different every evening that I walked into the piano student not knowing if I had a new student or a make-up lesson for another teachers student. Exposing myself to the the unknown was a part of my life whether I was comfortable with it or not. I doubt many people even recognized my inner turmoil.

Year 4 was a professional success and I met some amazing people that are still a part of my life. But as that year ended, declining populations dictated that I once again be moved. I could have used my growing seniority to insist on remaining but I took the moral high road and sucked it up. In hindsight...well, hindsight is always 20/20.

Year 5 was the year from hell. By the end of the first week, I was begging and pleading to be moved to a different location. On the first day, I walked into the school to introduce myself and the principal barked at me and I immediately cowered. And unfortunately time would prove that that in fact was the most civil she ever spoke to me. Not that I gave her a lot of opportunity, I did my job and avoided her like the plague. In the mornings, I would arrive and sit in my car until my yard duty started and then to avoid being stared at by her, I would hide behind trees. She would later claim that I was late every day because she never saw me in the staff room or in the yard. I won't get into all the details of her levels of madness, partly because it is still too distressing and partly because I have blocked many of the memories out and only know what I do because I have copious amounts of daily notations. The student I worked with bore the brunt of the abuse on my behalf. An autistic child with whom I had an excellent relationship with, and his mother and the classroom teacher too.

There was no denying what was going on but it was a school community that lived in fear of the principal. I was her current target. If I had the day off, when I returned I would be chastised for some behaviour that allegedly occurred by my student in my absence. I sucked up this degradation to my character and professionalism until March Break. I had been crying everyday on my way to and home from work for months. I saw my doctor during the break and he knew immediately that things were not okay, he approved an extended leave from work. The board said that I was angry. While I think I had every right to be, I was more frustrated and demoralized than anything else.

I eventually made it back to work at the beginning of June, but not before assurances dictated by my physician that it would not be to that place of torture. I could never be made to return. I would not even go back to collect my personal belongings. According to the teacher who did it for me, guess who hovered like a hawk to see what I had? Was she looking for journals or personal writings?

The rest of my career was spent in a single setting. A setting where my strengths as an Educational Assistant were really able to shine, a high school. Two good years were followed by a change in department head whose greeting to me in September was "I never liked you from the moment I first met you". Well hello boss! Yikes! I had two more long term leaves of absence under her rule and it became my last school placement.

In a brief nutshell. it was December 2010 and I was transferred to a school where the worst of the abuse started for me with the board. I was to start after Christmas break. I never went back again. I could not go back to the place of so much trauma. I had a profound understanding of PTSD and the fear of going back to the pain. That placement letter was the bomb that exploded in my head.

Knowing I was good at my job but they didn't like me I tried to change myself. That's when the distorted eating and extreme self-loathing came into play and remains a struggle. My doctor was supportive of my mental struggles and I started seeing someone professionally in late February 2011.

When the first round of papers came up after my sick days were done in March and I had squeezed all I could out of EI, I called upon our former union rep to help me fill out the multitude of overwhelming legal papers. She was awesome and I was soon (less than 1 year later) approved for both CPP-D and mortgage insurance coverage. For the record I don't understand how anyone of sound-mind could navigate all those forms let alone someone who is struggling either physically or mentally!

The board insurance company stood firm on their denial of benefits. They claimed that any trauma/breakdown I was suffering was due to a car accident I had been involved in 40 years previously. And while that accident was horrific, the two simply weren't related beyond affecting how I viewed the world and leaving me vulnerable to the maltreatment of others.

Anyways, denial upon denial and we kept going up the ladder of corporate fish at the Insurance Company. All this time, the former union rep was supporting me. But mentally I was getting worse. Lawyers wouldn't touch it because I had a union and they should be fighting for me. Our union with the new president was shit, a board patsy! So, my union friend became my legal representative and with that designation and some lawyer-ish documents I was finally approved for short-term LTD. Meaning that they decided that I could not work at my previous job. But I received that designation in May 2013, covering me for the previous 2 years that expired April 2013!

And so mentally and physically unable to fight anymore and on the verge of losing my house (mortgage insurance only covered 2 years), I decided to leave. But before I did I hired a lawyer that specialized in disability cases. Upon reviewing all the paper etc he decided to take on the case. Yes, he cost money but I had long passed the point where I was capable of opening any mail that came to the house. Bills terrified me because I knew I couldn't pay them. Seeing the Board letterhead on an envelope caused me extreme anxiety and the demeaning and belittling tone they took on the phone had me screening every call that came in. If I was going to leave my residence, I would have to leave forwarding information. We decided that the lawyer would handle all communication with the Board and Insurance company from here on in. He took care of all the paperwork and BS from my tormentors and gave me peace of mind.

Faith of the Heart - Rod Stewart

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t1sYjDc8i4I

Earlier this year, I was sent to see a psychiatrist appointed by the Insurance Company. I felt confident that he would indeed remain unbiased and not blame my Mother for what happened with the Board. My faith was misplaced. He took my words and the words of my professionals and twisted them, for they all knew me well enough to know that I am of at least average intelligence. His determination could have concluded the case, but he decided that with my ability to write my blogs and volunteer that I was smart enough to be retrained.

Logistically I was over the half-century mark in years on earth and by the time re-training was complete, I wonder how many employers would jump at hiring someone closer to Alzheimer's age rather than a 20 something ready to conquer the world. Did this re-training come with assurance that I would be employed and not lose my benefits on top of everything else? You have to look at the whole picture...not just the spot in the middle that is in focus. I had a career that I lost...not a job at MacDonalds that could be replaced by going to Wendy's!

Now, if you had asked me, I could have told you I'm smart. I was smart when I was 12 after my Mom and sisters passed away. I was still smart after my brother passed away when I was 22. And for the next 30 some years my intelligence level, if anything increased as opposed to going in the opposite direction. My intelligence saved me because I used it to keep myself going - I wrote about it all. All my life I've been writing. But even perfect diamond can crack with the right blow.

According to Psychology Today there is relationship between high intelligence/creativity and mental illness, although it is not a mutual exclusive relationship. You can have one without the other, but I bring up the concept as it relates to me. I think that it unreasonable for that psychiatrist that I saw to assume that a change of career will somehow cure my depression and anxiety.

Kurt Cobain was a tortured musical soul who took his own life, should we have taken the guitar from his hands and given him an accountants ledger instead? Would training Robin Williams to be a bus driver have saved his life? Could training me as an x-ray technician have made what happened at the Board go away? Or would it make it okay for them to hurt me? In many instances talent and demons seem to go hand in hand, in my case the demons where living and breathing members of the School Board. I couldn't make them go away.

October 2015, nearing 5 years off work and a decision was finally made. A settlement was reached. I paid a high price for the suffering that was doled out to me. If the same people had come to my home and robbed me of my personal belongings there would be some form of justice, they would be held accountable in some way. But my perpetrators/demons robbed me of my livelihood and career, the life I had worked so hard for. My house, my dreams, my life. I have to start over.

But at least I can start over. Not everyone has the stubbornness to want to prove them wrong. To prove that I am okay. That you didn't beat me, you broke me. There is a difference!

It wasn't easy and I don't wish these types of struggles on anyone. I wish I believed in karma so I could wait for the day when justice will be meted out, but instead they will become non-people to me. I write them off and give them no more space in my mind.

*If you or someone you know is struggling with abuse at the hands of their employer please support them anyway you can and understand that mental illness just means that we are given more than we can handle. We each have a cup that can "runneth over" and each one is of a different size.
Many of my supervisors were bullies who sensed the weaker in the herd to prey upon, no different than the schoolyard bully that we warn our children about. When the term schoolyard bully is uttered, everyone in that yard should be suspect - including teachers and principals. Sometimes they are also psychopaths.
FYI: I don't have a hate on for teachers. My mother and the most influential people in my life were teachers.

*If you know someone who is fighting for Long-Term Disability, know you don't have to fight alone. There is help out there. Don't be afraid to ask for it. You're worth it. Please, do not try to scam the system because it makes life so much harder for those of us who need the support for real.

*****NO!! I DO NOT CONSIDER MYSELF A TORTURED GENIUS!

Credit where credit is due:
Psychology Today
https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/ending-addiction-good/201503/is-there-link-between-intelligence-and-mental-illness
Huffington Post
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/09/02/creativity-mental-illness-health_n_5695887.html

Honouring the Lives Lost for Freedom and Truth

Pittance of TIme - Terry Kelly

Yesterday was November 11th. Remembrance day in Canada. Veterans Day in the United States.

Yesterday morning I walked down Spring Garden Road toward the cenotaph downtown. It was very humbling to be in the crowds with so many men and women in uniform as we all walked together. Of course, as they walked proudly with heads held high the only thing that stood out for me was my admiration for their selfless commitment - I was beneath them. Attending that service yesterday was the first time I had done so in many years. I have been present for many pseudo-services that were held in the schools in Ontario. There was a time when Remembrance was a day off for school children in that province. But it wasn't a day to sleep in and/or play. We bundled up in our scarves and mittens and prepared to stand in the cold and blistery November day to remember and reflect at the local memorial. Back then, there were a lot of veterans from the two great wars in attendance. Like all Italians, my father did his one year stint in the country's army but as he died when I was an infant, I don't know any stories relating to war from/or about his family. My maternal grandparents sometimes talked about the second world war, but only in the context of being in fear of the Germans taking them to POW camps and my grandfather being arrested/taken away for a time. I don't know if he was a soldier or relieved of duty for some reason since at 30 years of age at the start of World War II I assume he was suitable age-wise. I don't know and I don't know anyone left on that side who might share stories with me. (Mom's family wasn't to fond of Dad's side - and consequently I didn't value their opinion on much). Regardless the point is that with the exception of once hearing my grandfather talk about the sky disappearing in blackness because of the sheer numbers of planes flying over head, I have not heard of personal experiences of war. 

But I have always been emotional drawn to the experience and have some very strong feelings and opinions about it. As I got older and started to read stories and see movies and news stories about effects of war and strife it started to resonate. Canada was a peaceful nation but the advent of television brought the global conflicts into the living room. We didn't just hear about teenage boys jumping the border to avoid the draft, we saw the protests that drove them. We saw the passion they had against the war and we heard the reasons, we sat on our couches and saw the battles and the devastation. There are certain things that I am drawn to that I can't explain,  an attachment that I don't fully comprehend. It has always been that way with Ireland and Scotland - the countries, the people, the music, the history - everything. It's also Nova Scotia. And that is the only one that I have been able to fulfil and that is why this place feels like home - and it always has. But I don't know why - there is no family history of living here etc, that I am aware of. I have my theories but that is another story :) All I know is that I don't have an explanation for the pain I feel for victims of war - both those surviving the experience or never returning from it.

Back to Remembrance Day services. With most of the veterans of the second World War now passed on naturally, there are not a lot of them left to go to the schools and share the stories and it seems that the people who have sacrificed for our country in the name of Peace are being forgotten. Fortunately there is a far smaller percentage of us being directly affected by our country's involvement in Afghanistan, Korea and Vietnam to mention just a few missions that have claimed Canadian lives - but it means that there aren't enough of them to speak at the public gatherings. In the schools, the organization of services falls on the volunteerism of teachers and as some teachers put to me when I asked, there is more prestige and recognition given to the teacher who volunteers to coach a team. Sad really. To that end, where we once had a gathering in the school gymnasium for an assembly complete with speakers, stories (read or re-told), the recitation of the poem In Flanders Field, a lone bugler playing Taps and The Last Post to a sea of often wide-eyed children and young people all wearing the familiar red poppy above their heart as they were told was proper. We now have students sitting at their desk in their classroom listening to a recording of the national anthem, and a canned bugle rendering and shuffling of papers and people in the office during the two minutes of silence. Depending on how the schedule of classes fell - not even necessarily close to the 11th hour. And in the high school if you were on a spare or in the halls - you went about your business, as did most of the office staff. More than once, I sat there disgusted as I watched the teacher at his/her desk continue marking papers, reviewing notes while the students followed their example. In the staff room, no one stopped chewing or talking. No one stood. No one cared.

I care. Too much perhaps. Yesterday's service is the first service in many years that I attended from beginning to end without being escorted out or falling apart. Not that it wasn't emotional for it was, but my heart was lifted being among the many young and old from all factions of the military. ANAVET many had emblazoned on their head gear. Army Navy Air Force Veteran. There were men and women, RCMP, cadets and boy scouts. And as another round went off from the guns at Citadel Hill went off, I noticed the young children who were not bothered by the loudness of the blast from the 21-gun salute. I noticed the many families in the crowd, the teens and the throngs of university students. Their attire (many suits and ties paired with running shoes) and their behaviour exuded reverence. No cell phone ringing/texting was evident, no giggling, talking or frivolity. And I thought, this is what it is supposed to be like. This is Remembrance Day. And it wasn't just in this city, it was the same in every town large and small in every one of the 3 Maritime provinces. Case in point, not far from the city of St. John and the Bay of Fundy, the small town of St. George made the news. A personalized banner was erected along the main streets for some of the towns war heroes. It puts a face to the dead and by seeing the image and the names, the youth got more engaged and everyone wanted to know a bit more about the faces they drove past. They became real people (the near forgotten soldiers) they could be a grandparent or other relative.

  Highway of Heroes - The Trews

The "Hollywood" depictions of war are not always accurate and of course no matter how realistic the images and the story, nothing on the screen can depict the smell of death. Without having been in the bloodied shoes of the soldiers, we can't really know what it's like. But this past weekend (in particular) there were a number of documentaries about some of the battles during the wars where the actual surviving soldiers shared some of their experiences. It was the retelling of the D-Day and the storming of the beaches of Normandy that got me. The sheer number of boats and people that did the "dirty work" and the reference to the few Generals that planned the mission and the deadly calculation errors that were made and cost so many lives. Leaving the "relative" safety of the ships many soldiers jumped into the water to head for the beaches only to drown as the water was still too deep and the gear they carried too heavy. One man spoke of surviving because he had his helmet chin strap securely fastened and a pocket of air inside it brought him to the surface. Planes that were supposed to drop bombs in advance of the soldiers to create craters for some cover were late and there was nowhere on the wide open beach to hide. Then there was the seemingly impenetrable  concrete "pillboxes" that protected German soldiers with narrow windows that allowed nothing but the muzzle of a gun to poke out and mow down approaching enemies. But they were not impenetrable. A soldier standing at the base of the structure could not be seen and with a hand grenade and good sense of timing and coordination the soldier could lob that grenade into the tiny window leaving the Germans within no time to react. In the mentality of war it never ceases to amaze me how one can go from recalling the horror or seeing body parts strewn about the beach to the near elation at storming that bunker to find only the lower portion of a soldier distinguishable among the flesh and pieces of bone strewn about the enclosure. And the thing that struck me was that people of other nations died. Young men and women from the other side died too. No one was safe. One veteran spoke of being wounded 5 times in the first day of the invasion alone. Another gentleman spoke of waking to find his leg missing and then being joyful that he was alive. Or the one who was troubled by finding comfort by laying his wounded body on the cushion of 6 fallen comrades. Another was haunted his entire life knowing that he used the body of a dead soldier that he didn't know as a shield to protect himself before realizing he was dead. And over and over again the sentiment was repeated - kill or be killed.

The Fallen 9000

The above picture is an art project conceived by Jamie Wardley and Andy Moss who paid tribute to the 9000 souls who died on the beaches of Normandy, France by scratching their silhouette in the sand. That number includes Allied and German forces and civilians. It is a sobering and tangible look at the sheer numbers lost in just one battle in one war/conflict. It took two years to pull together the permission and 200 volunteers to pull off the project and the force of the tide to wash it away like so much spilled blood 69 ago. This endeavour was organized to coincide with the observance of the International Day of Peace on September 21, 2013. 

Truth be told, I am opposed to war. And over time that has morphed over to an opposition to organized religion as well. There has been an unacceptable amount of blood shed in the name of religion. My God is better than your God, my country is better than your country. Puts me in mind of a bully. And having faced my share of those monsters - I chose not to fight them - believing they aren't worth it. I'm not suggesting that Hitler (for example) didn't need to be stopped - for he did. His warped and distorted views caused grief and despair long before a gun was raised against his followers. So I wonder, were every one of Hiltlers' soldiers a believer in his philosophy of a superior race or were they drafted and/or forced to enlist and fight in his army? Getting back to that half body in the concrete tomb - he was somebody's son. Is his family in Germany permitted to mourn his lose. We call them the enemy and assign them derogatory terms to justify thinking them less than ourselves. But besides their crazed leader (and a few others) - were they really? I don't think so. If I live or am born in a certain country doesn't mean that I agree with the political agenda or policies. In some places I can voice it, others I can't. Today in our free and peacefully Canada, we often take pot shots at our leaders and suggest that they are certifiable and not fit for command. The way that our federal government is treating many of our veterans today while they line their pockets with tax payer dollars is an acceptable of way of them feeling superior to the "average Joe". 

The bottom line for me is this - This Remembrance Day and those to follow I want to remember all the people that were sacrificed in the name of war. Maybe there was a reason for the conflict but in the resolution many innocent people were caught in the crossfire. And I for one am sorry about that.

I am Canadian and I can speak my mind. Thank you!

I heard a song by this band on the radio recently and decided to search for the video. A band I wasn't familiar with but liking the sound, I listened to a few other offerings. It was a random click that that brought me to this video and I knew right away that I had to include it here. It is less the song and more the commentary before that struck me. People who were supposed to be enemies because they were told that they were. Awful things happen during war. There is destruction and death, civilians and soldiers. But in the chaos there can still shine a bit of compassion that reassures us that there is faith to be had still. And here is the story of two men whose paths crossed as enemies and they became allies and a symbol of forgiveness that I for one needs to know exists in and out of the times of war.

So It Goes - Hollerado

credit where credit is due:

http://www.canadaatwar.ca/

http://members.shaw.ca/kcic1/peacekeepers2.html

http://www.ctvnews.ca/canada/banners-in-n-b-town-honour-local-veterans-1.1535131

http://now.msn.com/bodies-drawn-on-normandy-beach-to-commemorate-d-day-deaths-on-international-peace-day

When life is a fight, It's a war we will lose

Wake Me When September Ends - Green Day

I don't like to write when I am in a very dark place because it is there for me to recall over and over again. To relive the feeling of pain. And that person in such excruciating pain that can't stop the flow of tears like a hurricane-fuelled rainstorm is not me. I am the happy one, the one who was always smiling. "WAS" and hope to be again.

Any regular reader of this blog will know from previous posts that I have been suffering from a depressive disorder for the past 2 1/2 years. The emotional breaking point was not the loss of my entire family before I was 23 years old. No, I was able to cope with the loss of both parents, 2 sisters and 1 brother because in part it wasn't a personal attack - a fact of life and a circumstances that I was forced to adjust to whether I liked it or not. I didn't like it, but I persisted and survived and dare I say...I even thrived. My downfall was something much more insidious - it was the constant and unrelenting character assassination that went on for years while I struggled to provide a safe and stable life for my two young children as a single parent. It wasn't my work performance it was me. I didn't say hello when I passed a particular person in a hall filled with hundreds of others. I didn't share my life with everybody at work. In fact I devoted my life to my children and the time I could spend with them and of course my attempts to provide for them financially and emotionally. Bottom line is that I was bullied at work by my supervisors and colleagues when I worked in the Catholic School system that was putting forth a face to the media that claimed to be against bullying. But in the classroom, I saw the teachers bully the students. In the halls, I saw teachers discriminate against students by race and sex and athletic ability. In the office, I was the danger because I saw and I documented. I had to be stopped. I wasn't on their side so I was the enemy. As a side note to any parent reading who has a child in the school system, do not assume that the teachers or administration will protect your child. I am here to tell you, that it is my experience that a vast majority of them are shining examples of how to bully those they percieve to be less then them. My mother was a teacher, some of the people I respect the most in my life are teachers. There are good and bad....be careful and be vigilant. 

SOME FOOD FOR THOUGHT

In an attempt to heal, I made some drastic changes in my life. I didn't know what else to do and what I had been doing was not working. I still think that the overall decision was sound and will in the long-term be a healthy decision for me. But what has happened since making that decision is enough to make me want to jump off the 18th floor balcony. I'm not going to get into all the details, because right now it is far to painful and I am trying to stay away from the edge. 

18th Floor Balcony - Blue October

This story is far from over and I hope that I am around to see it's conclusion but the best I can do now is hope that God or my Guardian Angels hold my hand when it's time for me to fly.......

The Mirror Reflects the Soul and Heart

That I Would Be Good by Alanis Morissette

You can't teach an old dog new tricks. 

A leopard can't change his spots. 

Past performance is usually a pretty good indicator of future behaviour.

Have you ever stewed over something you wish you had said or done? It has been said that hindsight has 20/20 vision, you can't see the forest for the trees and sometime the sunshine is hidden by the clouds. All sorts of proverbial catch phrases to illustrate the position that I am in right now and what I find most interesting is the realization that this is a pattern in my character. Consider the fact that if I had the kahunas (balls) to stand up to the person at work who didn't like my voice, I might have put them in their place. I should have stood up to the supervisor who, before we began our working relationship when she got promoted that she "never liked me from the first time she met me." How much would things have been different if I had stood up for myself. The bullies would have moved on to find someone weaker. But no, I wouldn't wish that abuse on anyone. I survived, but just barely. Someone less stubborn may not have.

The point of this story, is that someone has recently re-entered my life and although it was brief, I realize that my relationship with him is toxic. He is a dominant who makes me feel insignificant. He is the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board in sheeps clothing. Nothing I did was right, none of my ideas or opinions had any merit and every decision I made today and in the past was the wrong one. He is not my lover or even my boyfriend but was annoyed when I didn't want him to touch me in what I felt was an intimate way. Maybe for someone else it wouldn't be deemed intimate, but it is the way I felt - dammit! Even now thinking about it I get tears in my eyes. Not because it happened but because I let him belittle me and suggest that I don't know what it feels like to have a man love me and touch me. A man who claims to respect a woman does not go around calling them nasty names. And a man who wants to touch me respects me first. 


We've all been hurt by the opposite sex, by family members - but at some point we need to let it go. I won't forget the past because I would prefer not to repeat it, but a lifetime of anger over something that occurred in the past and out of your control cannot be healthy. You can release the anger to the wind and still not forgive or forget. You don't ever have to see that person again if you don't want to but please...let the anger go. It is eating you up and clouding your view on society and the people left in your life. 

We all make mistakes, but we are not necessarily evil. My ex was no good for me (and he was a despicable father to my children) but he may be perfectly matched for someone else - and they can keep him lol! Point is, just because someone did wrong by you in your eyes, maybe it wasn't an intentional slight. And what if it really was intentional behaviour meant to hurt you. Do you really think that they give a shit that you are stewing about it decades later? They probably don't even know how much anger you hold toward them. Ask yourself if their life is impacted by your venomous words - when they are not in the vicinity to hear them. This is another character trait I see in myself, that opened the door for the abusers at DPCDSB to continually berate me. The belief that there is good in everyone and there is not always evil intent. Except I let the anger go. I will never forgive, or forget but I will also not give them the power to control my life anymore. I write people off who I deem not worthy to be a part of my life. They become nothing.






My daughter may get annoyed at me for sharing this, but truth is that most girls go through phases like the one I am going to share. I did it myself! In a nutshell for whatever the reason, we seem to go through a phase where we chose the absolutely wrong person to have a relationship with. Spreading our wings, a little rebellion, the reason doesn't matter. From the perspective of a parent, I think that you have to express your displeasure and then let the child go forth and learn for themselves. And be there to pick them up and comfort them if they are hurt (and no I am not talking about a physically or other type of abusive relationship - for there is no question that immediate intervention is required in those circumstances). But you have to understand why you believe that the relationship is wrong for your child in order to have a valid opinion. Just because you don't think that they are good enough for your baby is not valid. My grandmother thought that way about my father and she didn't know any thing about him but his line of work. She felt my mother should marry a doctor - but that's another story! With my daughter, the boy made some mistakes that although they didn't thrill me I could accept that mistakes happen. What I didn't like was his disrespect for the mother of his girlfriend. As a potential "in-law" you don't have to like me but you do have to respect me. I said my peace and then trusting that I raised her right, I let her go to make her own decisions. It wasn't easy and it was a tough time for our relationship but it worked out in the end. A relationship built on love, trust and mutual respect will weather all storms. Some parents need to recognize that they may be alienating their child and forcing them to be deceitful in there personal relationships because the criticism about their partner is not something they want to hear. As a parent, you could be missing the best years of your childs' life. I hope that you have time to open your eyes and your heart before it is too late. 

Just because I can now, with the advantage of wisdom and hindsight, see the personality traits that allowed the DPCDSB and others take advantage of me does not mean that I have any intention of changing myself to become cynical or wary of people. For if in order to survive in this world I have to change who I am, I don't want to be here anymore. So take a shot on that target you see on my back because you will not leave scars of shame on me and with time the wounds will heal. But not one day will pass when I will be ashamed of my behaviour. The mirror will always be a friend that I can look at with pride. Can you? For in the end I know that it's not me that isn't good enough...it is you that isn't good enough for me. I just have to work on remembering that!

"To See or not to See" THAT is the real question! part 1

Doctor My Eyes - Jackson Browne

I just want us to do all that we can to be peaceful and caring. 


Shakespeare got it wrong "To See or Not to See" THAT is the real question! It seems to me that people in general are becoming blind to what is going on around them. Tunnel vision perhaps is a good label for it. While Bullying has become the hot topic for politicians and the media to jump on, incidents of bullying are becoming worse and more prevalent. Part of this is a perception brought about by increased media attention. People are becoming more aware of what it is and how to identify it, and that is a good thing. It is far more than the School yard bully wanting your lunch money. It is the boss who consistently and constantly belittles your character because they can and your job performance doesn't warrant reprimand. It is the driver who uses their vehicle as a tool to control your behaviour. It is the corporation that would rather you made decisions based on their own belief of inferiority of another - like belonging to the right crowd in high school by having the "right name on their clothes and material goods". It is the media that tells us what movies are good and that everything else isn't worthy. It is everyone who attempts to elevate their standing by climbing over another that they have knocked down. 

So now that we have decided that bullying is much more than child's play, we can see that it is all around us and it indeed has gotten worse and we are becoming less sensitized to it and more accepting of it. Consider the following scenarios and decide for yourself if you see the bully.

1. Courtesy Driving. You are driving down the road and behold the road ahead is going down from two lanes to one. Many people who drive this route on a regular basis, all merge well ahead of time in anticipation. So you are left with one backed up lane of traffic and one perfectly usable lane that might ease some traffic congestion but is empty - and some intelligent drivers see this and drive in that soon to end lane.  Nothing wrong with it, in fact it would be the legal and proper thing to do. However, some people including at least one I know and have driven with, take it as a personal affront that someone is trying to get ahead of them when their lane is ending in 500 meters/1 kilometre? And this person gets angry, livid and stressed out. It's kind of funny to me, but there are times when bulling comes into this picture too. As you are driving past the drivers who chose to stop, they glare at you menacingly or worse, use their vehicle to straddle two lanes. In essence, using their vehicle as a weapon, to control your behaviour because THEY don't like it. Bullying? You need to step back people and ask yourself, is it really that terrible that I have chosen the wrong lane and someone has gotten in front of me. Like the grocery/department store, we pick a lane and then watch the one we debated move quicker. Do we start pushing people with our shopping cart because they chose differently? This form of road rage become acceptable modern day bullying even though it is not viewed as such. In fact there is a facebook group dedicated to the belittling of people who in are obeying the laws of the road. They are celebrating their inappropriate behaviour. 




2. Commercials on TV and TV programming. I don't watch a lot of programs so I won't speak to those but there are some commercials that make me crazy. There was a time when companies would compare each other by name during their advertisements. Then that comparison was outlawed and consumers were allowed to absorb information and make up their own minds. But we've reverted back, maybe not in specifically naming competitors but very blatantly bashing the rival. There are many very successful marketing ploys that take the moral high road and I applaud them and financially support them. On the other side, there are companies like Charmin that openly compares itself to the "bird brand." And yet not too effective since one quick search on the internet proves that there are a lot of people who don't even know what the bird brand is. Not the bird brand, but Bounty very effectively proves their prowess and effectiveness with over-sized "sponge people" running around absorbing liquids. Love the slurping noise when it's cleaning the dogs dirty paw prints! :) I get that this paper towel will do the job. 




But if there was an award for the most annoying commercials ever, it would be for me Rogers. Rogers is a company that started off a century ago with one small radio station in Toronto and has grown since the 1960's into a corporation to be reckoned with in the global communications market. They have interests in radio, television stations, wireless and home phone, cable companies, publishing, internet providing, home alarm systems and sports  (sorry, it's still the SkyDome to me!) That alone tells you that you are bound to see a multitude of commercials for Rogers Telecommunications. So much so, that I would wager that if you are watching a Rogers TV station, you will see at least one Rogers commercial on every break! And that wouldn't be so bad except for the content of most of them. Stealing an old concept from Polaroid that used James Garner and Mariette Hartley posing as a married couple for a run of very successful ad campaigns, Rogers has done the same. The difference being that Rogers varies from commercials that tout the benefits of the product to the detriment of its rivals, to those that either belittle the "wife" or ones that bash the "husband". The latest, has the wife showing off a tablet as a remote control, then makes fun of her husbands choices of favourite shows in front of an unknown couple. He is clearly uncomfortable and she is oblivious. I can't support this malicious form of advertising. Just this past week, I put call in to a cable company that came to my door and told me that the choices I had made were the wrong ones because their employer was superior and I was wasting my money. I phoned the complaints department to thank them for questioning my intelligence level. They shouldn't be knocking on my door any time soon.

3. Politics and politicians. I have a very hard time during the campaigning process trying to ascertain the best candidate for my community, provincial or federal needs. I have some political party preferences but I like to also keep an open mind. It is increasingly difficult to do this when most advertisements on print and TV are nothing more than attack ads. There was barely a peep in the news about the recent elections for Liberal party leader here in Canada. But it was tough to escape notice when the Conservative Party came out within hours on the decision being announced with ads attacking the newly elected leader Justin Trudeau. What was the purpose of that besides the misguided attempt to elevate their standing by stepping on Mr Trudeau. It's not even election time between the parties. So degrade him and his choices for sport? I wonder if they had similar attack ads at the ready with the names of all the other candidates? By supporting this tactic by the Conservative party we are saying that it is okay. But it's not. There is no need to put down others to elevate our own standing. We should be able to stand on our own merits. Unless perhaps we don't have any worthy of mentioning. Conservative or Liberal leaning, I shout "Shame on you, Conservative Party of Canada." 

I am enclosing this video not because I endorse it in any way but I think you should be free to make up your own mind. I would encourage you to go to YouTube and like or dislike the ad and make your views known in any way you see fit. Average Canadian citizen Chris Gougeon is making his own stand protesting these ads...people are talking about it. I'm not alone is my displeasure. 

4. Celebrity Status. Just recently an entertainment magazine released a list of the top hated celebrities. A lot of feather were ruffled upon learning that Gwyneth Paltrow was on top of the list. One report I heard was that she was selected as most hated because she was so perfect. There is some logic that escapes me! How can I hate her, she has done nothing to me to warrant such a strong negative emotion. I understand that celebrities put themselves out there and open themselves up to criticism and yes some even seek out publicity (either positive or negative) to keep themselves in the public eye. I have no problem forming an opinion regarding the performance of a specific star. But it is not the person who should be trashed but rather their actions. Justin Bieber, for example, has made some very poor behavioural choices of late and I personally am not a fan of the nature of pictures that he posts to Twitter or other social media sites, but he himself is not an inherently bad person. He is the same talent that he was when he was adored by the media a few short months ago. His entourage of paid promoters should perhaps be a little more vigilant in their guidance and protection (even if from himself and his own immaturity).

These put downs go for other musicians and celebrities as well. I am tired of people openly hating on Nickelback. You don't have to be a fan or even like their music but can't you just not listen without putting them down or me if my views and tastes in music are different then yours. I am not a fan of Prince (or whatever name he is going by these days) but I will not discount his musical ability/showmanship/or self-promotional abilities. I don't like his music, I don't want to listen to it, or financially support it, I don't have to. I can however change the station. I don't have to bash him to every person I encounter. I do not need to tell you that your musical tastes are less than mine because we have different opinions. 

5. A little Good News. One word...Dove! It isn't only because it is a campaign that is trying to smash all the ill-conceived projections of mass media about what women should look like but because it is doing it without trashing the competition. I think that the "You are more beautiful than you think" campaign is one to be applauded. But let's not be naive, Dove is owned by the Unilever Corporation who freely uses sex and the "perfect" female form to sell its other products like Axe body spray. Baby steps I guess are better than going backwards or standing still.


A Final Thought.
I think society as a whole needs to learn that you do not elevate yourself by belittling others. Self-love and self-esteem is a good practice and necessary. Yes, even in politics and business there is a need to try and elevate yourself above the competition to gain profits or supports but it can be done in the marketplace and in the workplace without stepping on other people. Take the moral high ground and be nice. It really doesn't take a lot of effort or financial expense but the rewards can be great. The notion of a random act of kindness is a great concept but flawed in that people tend to believe that it is an "act" and not a lifestyle. A lifestyle choice that cannot be counted in instances or specific acts. 

The goodness that we all appreciate and embrace when a tragedy befalls members of our race needs to be appreciated and recognized on a daily basis. Not just because they were innocent bystanders that were hurt or emergency service personal who gave their all nor even someone who was diagnosed with a medical ailment. But everyone we encounter in our daily lives each and every day.  

The true humanitarian 

- will hold the door open for the person behind them, 
- will donate to the food bank even when it isn't a food drive, 
- will say thank you to the person who is serving them (even thought it is their job to serve), 
- will allow another motorist to pass without taking it as a personal attack,
- will consider their consumer habits based on the behaviour in their advertisements,
- will make it known that negative promotion is not acceptable,
- will make up their own minds to the goodness of others without belittling the choice of another
- will lead by example and practice what they preach.

I am not perfect, but I do try and live my life in accordance with the morals and values I have held for a lifetime. But, having said that...do me wrong and I'll have no problem speaking the truth as I see it. I respected and valued my neighbours until they started damaging my property and tossing my mail. I had a great employer until I experienced their hypocrisy - preach anti-bullying and then bully your employees. Shame on Irene and Harold and shame on the DPCDSB.  

Running Scared

Rage - Blue Rodeo

When will you rage again, is it enough 
Just getting out of your head night after night
Are you running scared or you just don't care
Or are you waiting for that one high and holy sign
To shine a light on you and pull you through to the silent true

A lot of things have happened lately that have me swimming in quicksand trying not to drown. And I'm so tired that I really want to stop flailing about and just let the mud invade my lungs and pull me down. The mud is warm and comforting and the pressure against the skin is providing the first sense of security I have not felt in a long time. 

But every time I think..."It's time" my eyes well up with tears. There is a conflict that compresses my chest like an elephant sitting upon it. I'm tired. My heart hurts. My brain is pushing against my skull trying to break free. A desire to let go and give in but a stubborn streak that doesn't want them to win. I'm not sure that God is going to let them see the light of day so I have to prove them wrong. 

Forgiveness is not an option. When you knowingly and willful set out to hurt someone you may try and seek solace in another realm but in my world you can go fuck yourself. The drunk who gets behind the wheel and kills - that wasn't an accident. The truck driver who follows to close and uses his bulk to intimidate, who alters his driving log unmindful of the innocent people on the road who aren't sleep deprived - no pity here. Anyone who has mistreated another human or animal in anyway - may you rot in hell. And the people of the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board who systematically and willfully whittled away at everything that was good about me. I can't imagine a punishment I could inflict that would bring me any peace. 

And to all the professionals who have taken a microscope to my life since my character was pulverized by the Catholic Educators and Administrators, I only have one thing to say that I hope you will take into consideration. We all have a past and some of us had a difficult childhood with imperfect parents, we somehow managed to survive. I happened to have had an especially traumatic childhood and was forced to cope with a lot of diversity. My past happened. It affected me. But it was the 1970's. Three decades ago! So today you can label me social phobic and try to change my pattern of avoidance for dealing with issues. You can blame that on the pain of my childhood and try to fix me. But I want to ask just one thing "Would you even be aware of my existence today if it were not for the work issues I was forced to endure at the hands of my crucifix-touting supervisors?" I was being nailed to the cross and slowly tortured until I finally broke. Wouldn't you? Doesn't everyone have a breaking point? What the hell do these actions have to do with an accident I survived 36 years previous?? 

Was I a misfit cruising under the radar of society? Waiting to be hauled off to the rubber room because I was depressed, anxious and social phobic? Or did I learn to cope and survive despite the rocks that were pelleted at me trying to knock me down. I think the latter, despite being far from perfect I managed to not only fit into societal expectations but did it on my own - Thank you very much. A single parent who raised two kids on her own without the benefit of spousal support (financial or otherwise), no familial support, no handouts from the government. When we lacked, I volunteered my time in lieu of paying for extra-curriculars. As the kids became a little more independent, I took on a second job to try and make our life easier. I didn't ask for help because that's not what I do - well I used to but having to go to distant relatives instead of immediate family meant I was flatly turned down. Who should I have asked for help from?

I was doing fine. I was happy. I was satisfied with my life (although always looking for ways to improve). My children had both graduated high school and gone off to post-secondary education. Now tell me how children of single parents don't succeed cousin! Regardless while I was busy minding my own business I was successful not only in my chosen career but every part time job I engaged in. I allowed the Catholic School Board to systematically assassinate my character and I never stood up to them. That behaviour and lack of willingness to fight for myself you can put down to learned behaviour as an emotionally abused teenager. But if someone chastises you simply because you refuse to say hello when you pass them in the crowded halls of the high school - how do you fight that? When you are told lies and they say that they have people who swear to hearing you make a racial slur - how do you refute that? When there are 6-8 of them staring down at you and listing off infractions and flaws in your character and personality while you look at the ground and clench your jaw to stop from screaming..."Look at ME when I speak to you!" they command me. I cry and hide further within myself. The one person that was there to protect me and my rights (my union rep) sat beside me, scribbling furiously on her note bad and saying nothing. How was I, a simple peon in the mighty cog of one of the largest employers in the county is not the country, how was I supposed to fight for my rights?        

They finally broke me! After nearly 10 years of suffering abuse at their hands I finally broke. I could hear them laughing at me in my warped consciousness. I strived to change myself - so that I could be what they said I should be. I failed and began to hate everything about me. Councillors, psychiatrists, doctors, therapists, group sessions. I did it all. I heeded the recommendations. Get out of the house, volunteer. Exercise, it elevates the anti-depressant hormones. Write, be productive. Each one of the activities I engaged myself in was used against me as proof that I was okay. They threw my childhood trauma in my face as a reason for the problems with the School Board. Hell, even the Board in official documentation to Workers Safety Insurance Board said that my behaviour in the work place was due to trauma suffered as a child. HOW THE HELL DID THEY EVEN KNOW ABOUT IT? I'll tell you how, I bore the scars like a badge all over my body. If someone asked what happened, I shared. I didn't shrink away and pretend it never happened. But tell me this - if I had no scars would anyone have ever known what I went through? The answer is NO! So to avoid an allegation of bullying the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board chose to lie. 

And much to the displeasure of the School Board, I have the proof. 10 years of documentation, of wrong-doing, of mistreatment of students, of bullying students and staff. The Good The Bad and The Ugly. I have it. Long before I left work, I made accusations of being bullied by superiors and instead of action being taken, it was dismissed. I was dismissed. The law was broken to save the ass of employees who had a stronger union than I. Oh dear! 

As Blue Rodeo (in the above song) says so eloquently in their lyrics "Fuck off and die, I feel like the lucky one"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everybody Loves You When You're Dead - Wild Strawberries

Anybody can get so tired of the fight that they don't want to do it anymore. The fight is survival. Instead of feeling stronger for the effort the strength is sapped out of you and you feel yourself wilting like a dead flower in the middle of the winter - never to feel the warmth of spring. I am that tired and sometimes I really don't want to take another breath. I want the pain to stop. 

It just seems to be a constant struggle to try and make people understand...to believe. As I said previously, a lot of labels of mental deficiency have been heaped upon me of late. None which I specifically dispute - what I dispute is that they are being lumped together with childhood trauma as if I was still a child - that child. Nobody asks about the 36 years in between - how I coped for those years. 

That is what I want people to understand. I survived the trauma because my mind and resolve was stronger than the people who tried to break me. I knew that the unpleasantness couldn't and wouldn't last forever. There was light at the end of the tunnel. I was an optimist. I could see good in everything. I saw good in my scars - it could have been worse. I saw good in the death of my family - at least I still had my brother. When he left I was grateful for the time we had together - I was glad he was going to a better place even if it meant leaving me. I wasn't selfish. 

I now know that most of my life's outlook was based on what psychiatry deems as Solution Focused Brief Therapy (SFBT), and it should be noted that I did it without benefit of any counselling. SFBT is essentially is goal-orientated concentrating on where you want to be and how to get there. There is no point focusing on the past. We know how and why we are what we are, but it's the future that is important and how we are going to get there. I was an angry, frightened and intelligent person who was dealt a shit hand of cards. I can analyze the who, why, how to death but it won't change the past. I had to move on and decide how I wanted to live my life. I chose the high road and walked away from the pain. The ironic thing is that I never had an psychiatric counselling besides during the brief initial stay in the hospital after the accident. I became the person I was because that's who I wanted to be. I succeeded and I was confident. I was left alone and learned to live my life that way. Alone and self-sufficient. I learned to protect myself from anyone who I thought was trying to hurt me. I shut down, I avoided, I hid behind the wall.

New Normal Philosophy

Eventually your life will have a new "normal" without him but you can never expect to forget or hurt sometimes. The new existence comes with a certain amount of pain that will always rear its ugly head, usually when you least expect it but there is some predictability as well. Loss is almost always harder when it is sudden and unexpected because we have to process the loss and are expected to cope in the blink of an eye. 

by Gigi