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

On the Choppy Seas

Unwell - Matchbox 20

(love his t-shirt)

On this voyage of self-discovery, I am learning things about me that I am not entirely sure I even want to know. It takes my belief system puts it in a jar and shakes it up. I don't know which way is up and I'm not convinced that I even like the new structure.

from the internet

I understand the basis of my failed relationships of the past and why I made some of the choices that I did. But it means that relationships I have today are built of false pretenses and are doomed to fail. That hurts a lot to know that. I hold some of them very dear and they mean a lot to me. So on this beautiful summer day I am mourning yet another loss...because I feel so damned alone. I don't understand what is wrong with me. 

And I am so afraid to meet anyone new because failure means more loss and I really don't know how much more I can take. I don't have the fight or the strength! But this isn't about one person - it never really is - unless that one person is me. But that is one of those things you learn about yourself that is very hard to come to terms with. Maybe it is me? Maybe I am flawed in too many ways to fit anywhere?

********************************************************

The above paragraphs were written sometime ago but I think they still have relevance today. And so I include them here

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It starts all rather gradually and then hits me in the face like a ton of bricks one at a time. I can't dodge them all and I'm tired of trying. I didn't even realize I was on the slide until I fell at the bottom. There are signs, the bricks I dodge are signs. But in my attempts to avoid confrontation I am vulnerable to attack. I don't know how to deal with it and I fall before I know I am slipping beneath the waves of despair. 

Hindsight is 20/20 they say. Today I can look back on the past few weeks and see the exact point the decline started. I thought that the acknowledgement of that event and how it made me feel was enough to keep me strong. But like the nearly 10 year struggle with being bullied by the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board, I just pushed the incident into the recesses of my mind where I thought it couldn't hurt. 

from the Bully Project

It started as a friendly conversation but something was said in a manner that can only be described as demeaning. I thought I brushed it off. It wasn't until much later in the day when I realized that from the moment of that comment I never looked at her again. I still spoke but although we conversed, I looked down at the table when I spoke. I couldn't tell you her name or her hair colour. That realization reminded me of being a weak peon at the hands of my superiors in the School Board. Being spoken to like I didn't have a single thought to call my own. Many meetings in that board room, and the only thing I remember is the surface of the table. And one who chastised me in front of a group of 8-10 by saying "Look at me when I talk to you!" I felt like a 4 year old - although I never spoke to anyone (not even a child) like that myself. 

I really believed that by making that connection to the past trauma I had let the recent events go. Apparently not. Band-aids once again graced my fingers like so many rings. Nights became dreamless with constant periods of wakefullness. Turmoil was the prevailing sentiment based on the condition of the bed coverings. Motivation went out the window and unless there was a specific appointment to dress for and attend, I only saw the sunshine from the security of my balcony. My mind was becoming shrouded in a blanket of persistent fog. I had to read a passage several times to have it register or give up. Days became like the nights, dreamless with occasional periods of wakefullness. 

Now I see what was happening. Then I didn't. It hit me when someone casual said "How was your week?", and I couldn't remember having done anything of significance. Alone, the tears began to flow. I couldn't breath. By the morning the events of the past few weeks became clear as another journey downwards. The tears, the elephant parked on my chest and the fog enveloping my mind, I didn't know where to turn. 

from the internet

Like an angel sent from the heavens someone called...just because. Not the first time that she has called at exactly the time I needed it although she is many miles away - she senses? I hung up with her and dialed for professional help. I can't do this alone anymore. The demons are too strong for me to fight alone. 

One thing I have realized is that when I reach out there are some who are willing to be there. They don't have to do anything, the knowledge and feeling that I am not alone is enough. Messages of concern prevailed and although I questioned reaching out so publicly - I am grateful that I did. 

I am beginning to recognize these tell-tale sign of the choppy seas on the horizon and I hope that I can come to a point where I can reverse the negative tide. Time will tell I suppose. But lack of self-care is leading to some unmistakable bouts of serious dehydration. Awareness is a key to help. 

I can't make any promises about tomorrow but today, I'll be okay. Last night I dreamed again. For when my mind is at peace I can enjoy the love and compassion in my subconscious. 

Differently-Abled and Judged by the Lower Court

I Wanna Get Better - Bleachers

It starts off with a whisper - the words of a song that bring me back to the reality of the moment and sends my thoughts off on a new tangent. I suppose it has always been like that for me, the difference now is that I feel compelled to write it down. And quickly before I forget where the thoughts were going. Following those thoughts as they meander are partly self-discovery and healing, partly fantasy with a bit of fun, and sometimes painful.  

Today it was this song, I wanna get better. Alright fine, it's been a topic that has been the focus of my life for nearly four years now. Four years...let me just take a moment for that to sink in. 

Four years ago, I was a full time mother to two children who were almost complete in their post-secondary academic endeavours. I had a full time job that I loved and was damn good at. I had a fairly new vehicle and was finally able to do some of the needed upgrades on my house. My debt load was low after many years of  struggles. Definitely on an upswing. 

When I took my third stress leave, I thought it would be just another break from the continued harassment I was experiencing at work. I did not know that I would still be struggling with the effects of that so many years later. I refer to it as the time I fell apart. It was a swift and nearly deadly tumble into the abyss of depression. 

There was only one thing I knew for sure and that was that for reasons unknown to me my supervisors at work hated me. I didn't know how to change who I was so I embarked on a quest to change what I looked like. Plastic surgery was out of my comfort zone and budget. So I began to diet and exercise. Carbs were out, cardio and weight training was in. Despite the effort and determination, nothing was happening. Not a pound was shed. I lost nothing except maybe a bit more of my sanity which had become very fragile.

I was so focused on the scale and its infernal readout that I didn't realize that when I was not exercising, I was sleeping or crying. And I couldn't stop doing any of it. I didn't see it as not okay. Combining all of those things with alcohol one weekend brought the fragile house of cards falling down flat. The game couldn't be played any longer. Referees in the form of psychologists, psychiatrists, nutritionists, chemical rehab and medical doctors became a mainstay in my life. And my "compassionate" employer steadfastly maintained that if I was unable to work, it was because I had suffered a traumatic event 40 years prior. It still makes my blood boil when I think of that!




While I have had a lot of support with my mental health, my physical health continued to suffer. The attitude towards me by my employer really took a toll on my self-esteem. Before the breakdown I did like myself. I could look into that mirror with a critical eye and still see mostly good. There are always things we'd like to improve or change for to truly live and be alive we must continually grow. But the growth I could no longer tolerate (and still can't) is my skin. There is more, not less and I am so afraid that it will continue, that eating is a mental struggle. The "eat/don't eat" voices in my head are too strong. And the fear of physical growth is far louder than the get healthy whisper. I am often very literally scared to eat. I continue to work very hard to try and learn what is going on and how I can fix my bodies response to food. I know that I have caused my metabolism to slow, I have been told that the way to increase it is to eat - apparently my body thinks I am starving it. lol! But I tried that for a time and at 900 calories a day, I gained.

And just when I think I might be getting better, someone makes a comment about the importance of body language and I want to scream. Why is it that our physical presence is more important than our soul? This is but a shell. Who I am lies deep within. But society keeps telling us that we can never makes a second first impression. How we present ourselves leaves a lasting image. If someone has a prejudice, it is not politically okay to express it but it doesn't mean it's necessarily gone. I was once told by a manager of a retail store that I couldn't work there because I would scare away the customers. Nobody would dare say that today, but do they still think it? 



I would like to think that we have become more tolerant of our differences but have we really? Nobody would bat an eye if they saw a pencil-thin waif coming out of McDonalds with a burger in one hand while sucking on a milkshake. Now, what if that person was so big they barely fit out the door, how many people would stare as they waddled away? And possibly even make derogatory comments - just loud enough to be within ear shot. The thing is we assume that because we see a larger size person eating junk food that that is all they eat, that they are lazy and never get off the couch. Where as reality might be quite different. Or not, but you don't know.


I met a person recently and they were concerned that when they dressed "as themselves" that I wouldn't accept them. To be fair, there are dress codes at certain places and I don't think it's my place to be disrespectful of someone else's wishes, but such was not the case here. The attire was more than acceptable at the venue in question. I just didn't happen to share their choice of wardrobe. It's never occurred to me to judge their style. Under the physical decoration, they were the same person I had met and known prior to this meeting. But they were correct in their belief that others are not so tolerant and look upon the accoutrements with disdain and negative judgement. If they took the time to look beyond they would see a kind soul, with a warm heart and friendly smile who is also a great parent and wonderful friend.

We have no right to judge unless we can sit back as we too are judged. Love that lives in the heart isn't always visible on the outside. Perhaps I have a greater understanding and compassion regarding this subject because I have been there. I have lived it. I once went on a family road trip and when I came back I was (I thought) the same person, albeit sadder - but I looked like someone else. And some had no problem letting me know what they thought. Truth is, the face in the mirror wasn't mine and the body had changed - it was forever marked by life's scars. Even the sound coming from my mouth was different. Some people didn't even recognize me on the phone. But my soul was the same. It's me! To some I became and stayed a stranger from then on. Not good enough anymore.

So stop please! Before you chastise someone and judge them as unworthy based on their appearance...stop and ask yourself if maybe there is a real worthy person under the physical form. The person staggering down the road as if drunk may be re-learning how to walk. The person hugging themselves may be lonely and afraid, not angry. The person who can't speak, is not stupid. The person you think is disabled is just differently-abled. I have always believed that we are all disabled in some way. Some of us share it for the world to see, others can keep it hidden from view. Science is one of my weaknesses, the word received is another. I don't think I have ever spelled that word correctly! 

The person who can't see is not always the blind person. 

Today a video was shared by a friend on Facebook and I am going to share it with you here. It is in French but language is unimportant. I had started writing this missive yesterday and when I watched this video I was saddened to my very core. How can we be so self-absorbed that we don't care about each other? Where did we go so wrong? How can we sit in church on Sunday, praise our boss on Monday, volunteer with our community on Tuesday, spend time with our family on Wednesday, give to charity on Thursday, pray for a safe weekend on Friday and step on our neighbours on Saturday. 

The Importance of Appearances Experiment - NorniTube

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDN-uZ_0I70

Regardless of how this man is dressed, he is in need and yet people walk past him and don't even see him or worse - notice and choose not to care. BECAUSE OF WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE!

My link to the video may not work on this page, so here is a link on YouTube.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDN-uZ_0I70
(SPOILER ALERT)
If that still doesn't work. I will tell you that a man in an overcoat, hat and jeans, collapses on a busy sidewalk and lies there repeating "help me" as people walk by mindless. Some stop to look. They see and hear him but don't notice him and his pleas. When the same man falls wearing a suit and a tie, his head isn't even on the pavement when he has commandered the attention of a gathering of concerned passersby who stop to help and have no fear touching him, talking to him, helping him. It's the same man! 

So tell me, how am I ever supposed to like myself and accept myself if I can't change my appearance? How will I ever be safe from the people who want to step on me and discard me like trash? Was I living in a fantasy world I created on my own until I was forced to face the truth. I am not good enough? I don't want to believe it but every day, the beauty magazines and the role models I am shown on tv tell me it's true. 

What is it like?

Just Breathe - Pearl Jam

I read a story the other day as I was browsing. It was about a young man looking out a train window and enthusiastically commenting on everything that he saw. The trees, the people waiting at the crossing the sky and the clouds to his father. His father encouraged him and was enjoying his seemingly infantile musings about such mundane things. A passenger who was sitting in the same area commented to the father that perhaps it might be wise to have the boy assessed. The father replied that he had and today was the first day that the boy could see for they were heading home after a successful eye operation. His son had been blind since birth. 

Cute story and written to evoke some compassion and tug on a few heart strings. But the critical thinker would wonder why the father didn't have his head smushed up against the train window along side his son and really sharing his new found experiences. Also pretty bold of the passenger to make such a comment on the presumption of mental capacity - as a parent myself I would probably deck him before I would waste my breath explaining anything to the judgmental fool. 

But, that leads me to my own blindness. My blindness is not my eyes, it's my heart. I find myself over and over again of late asking a seemingly simple and stupid question. I want to know what it's like. 
- What is it like to have a mother who loves you and is/was a part of your life?
- What is it like to put your arms around your aging father?
- What is it like to love someone who is older unconditionally?
- What is it like to those people's eyes light up with love when they see you?
- What is it like to have an older brother or sister? 
- What is it like to have a younger brother or sister?
- What is it like to have family?
- What is it like to have someone be proud of you? 
- What is it like to be accepted and like for who you are? and what you have become?
- and What is it like to have someone love you and want to be your partner to share your life experiences each and every day of your life with no conditions. 

I had it. I had everyone of these things and I don't know anymore. I don't know what it's like. It's been too long. I remember pain, but I forget the love. I forget the hugs and I forget the emotions. I forget the joy and excitement of sharing celebrations like every day successes and Christmas. Weddings were replaced with funerals. Death anniversaries were celebrated - birthdays largely ignored. In my reality, no one ever gets old. Except for that stranger in the mirror. I am not sure if I even know how to love someone else anymore and that includes me. Being hurt so many times by false characters who only saw me as what they could take from me. I am afraid that I don't think I could love. And it hurts to think that after nearly a lifetime of alone, I will probably die that way. 5 years or 25 years that I have left will be spent like today. Like yesterday. Alone.

I was married, I had relationships but I have something that many people don't. I have the recollection of perfect memory. Everything about those early relationships is written down in the form of diaries. And I've been reading them and realizing how stupid and gullible I have been - wanting to be loved so bad, I paid for it. I was involved in a co-habitational situation and so starved for affection in that scenario that I never thought twice of going to a bar, having a few too many drinks and making like I was single. I could cut myself some slack and presume that maybe there was an intellectual spark somewhere buried deep within my brain that knew that the relationship was a use and abuse situation for him. Get what he needs in a financial sense without really giving a shit for me. It's too late to find out know from the horses mouth but I can say that I am glad that I eventually cut ties with him because he really was a loser. That may sound harsh, but in all honesty if I shared half of the details you would agree. But it doesn't say much about me hanging on for as long as I did. Not the right one for me but I thought it was the best I could do. My drunken indiscretions should have told me something but in hindsight guys are pretty quick to latch onto someone they think they have a chance with even for a single night of fun. It wasn't exactly the free love of the 1960's but we were young and thought we were going to live forever. I, of all people should have known that wasn't the case. But an immature brain and what I believe was an unconscious death wish I did a lot to sabotage my future existence. 

Chillout by Ze Frank

Before you rush off and start to cast judgement upon me I wish you knew me when despite it all I was the Grand Optimist with a willing hand to help anyone (even if it was stepped on afterwards) and a ready smile on my face. "Don't you ever get mad?" I was asked so often by the students I worked with. "No, dogs get mad. Life is too short not to be happy." And damn it, for all my flaws (for physically they are the same today as they were 5 years ago/10 years/20 years) I could still be positive about life and the future. For there was no doubt then that I was going to be a part of the future. Now, I am tired and not so sure that I will be fighting to stick around. For today I am still more broken than I have ever been in my life. And instead of people I care about helping me to heal, many of them are closing the door and then locking it. Not that I think they can fix me but a little support and a tiny bit of understanding can go a long way.

And while I applaud all the money and research that is going into such deadly diseases as cancer and heart disease - how about a little more for mental health. Recently there has been more media exposure on the topic and with it awareness but not acceptance. It is not viewed as an illness but an affliction - "get over your depression." We all have times of sadness. Suck it up. We've all had problems and issues. 

But do you know what it's like to know that there is some part of your brain - some wiring schematic - that has broken and you can't fix it. I compare it to the paraplegic who can see his legs there, where they have always been, but no matter how much he tries, they won't work the way he wants them to. The way they used to. That's my brain. I've been sad before but never to this degree. I've had nearly 3 years to try and understand what is happening and why, and try as I might, I can't make the sadness stop sometimes. Like the tides, with time the wave will subside and calm will return. I hope. 

And just for fun and some minimal understanding of the rest of what I was talking about, stop and look at television and media and consider how many references there are to family and relationships. If you are lacking it feels like a little dig. Like a club that you can't be a part of. I'm not alone. God help the person who is overweight for they are deflecting a lot of unkind stares and comments everyday live and through the media. Not to mention all the studies that have been done that has shown that even potential employers discriminate against the overweight when it comes to hiring. Everybody want the beautiful perfect people in their life. But have one strike against you and you are screwed. (I figure I have so many strikes that only if life was a bowling game would I have a chance at success). 

One of the news stations was doing a story in a school about nutrition the other day. They were filming in a classroom of the school. They filled the screen with pictures of belly's that hung over the top of jeans, of legs that barely fit between the seat and the desk that was designed for smaller students. No faces were shown but I felt the pain of the students excitedly turning on the news to see themselves on the world stage and then seeing the part of them that we taught them to be ashamed of. For the reporters commentary was not flattering and every one of those student knew what they were wearing and they didn't need to see their faces to recognize themselves. That compassion hurts me and the sadness flows. I feel their pain and I empathize. What comments did their classmates have the next day? I could tell you because I have heard them when they were spoken to me.  

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.......

Today I Can Take A Breath Knowing That Tomorrow I Can Take Another

Fallen - Sarah McLachlan

I have heard this song many times in the years since it's release in 2003, but when I heard it today on my way to an important meeting it felt like I was being slapped across the face. It spoke to me and at the same time it felt like all my feelings and thoughts were being told through the voice of Sarah McLachlan. And then I came home and searched for the video on YouTube and I literally could have been knocked over with a feather. Too often in the past couple of years I have been terrified to have a soak in the bathtub because I have been in the position where I wanted to just let go. To sink into the peace and comfort of the water. Of course, the thought of what the poor paramedics would find days or weeks later was just more than I could bear. Too much for anyone else to see. Oh...my eyes! 

Sarah McLachlan may have written this as a love song. Some say it is about an affair - the pain of love that can never be, the abandonment of those that don't approve and the emptiness that comes from one mistake. Others say the subject is suicide. Let's face it, not many would intentional say that they wrote a song in the depths of despair for too many would latch on and make it an anthem. But as someone on the edge of the abyss, I can relate to this song on precisely that level. As can others, judging by comments posted on the video. One had stated that her friend was the strongest and weakest all at the same time before she committed suicide. I get that. I understand the hours that are spent every day planning one's own demise. Everyone of us suffers from pain but the darkness comes from despair and lack of hope. That is what people don't understand...that it can get so bad. It's not the size of the battle it's the will to fight it that makes the difference in the outcome - win or lose.

An interesting thing about Sarah's lyrics is the reference to wanting to change oneself to change the past. I personally spent a lot of time especially in the past 2 years, trying to change myself into someone that society would accept since they seemed to have not liked who I was. I had thought I was ok, a contributing member of society who tried to help where and who I could. I struggled with putting the wounded bird out of it's misery or letting nature take it's course. If it was in my power, I would have nursed it back to health instead of leaving it to survival of the fittest. I lived with the philosophy that no matter how bad things were, they could always be worse. And then time revealed all the wounds that wouldn't heal and the burden I carried on my back finally broke me. Therapists and mental health professionals even medical doctors began to tell me that everything I thought, all my perceptions, all the coping mechanisms I had put in place - were wrong. I was wrong. I was messed up and it was best that I accept that. Half the struggle through the mental health cycle is questioning your own self worth over what the professionals are telling you. I'm not talking about schizophrenia, bi-polar or manic-depressive illnesses that may all benefit from chemical restructuring and altered thought processes. I am talking about episodic specific depression. My biggest downfall was (and is) that I don't stand up for myself often enough. A shrinking wall-flower who would rather not be noticed.

Sarah McLachlan in her lyrics also nailed another commonality in my depressive journey. The loss of friends who don't or won't accept the changes that sinking so low bring about. From the simple "get over it" to the blatant ignoring. They really do turn their heads away as if embarrassed. But while some run in fear, there are others that stand strong where you are weak and are there for you. The true friends. Understanding is not a pre-requisite to being supportive. Don't laugh or snicker too loudly in disbelief, but I am not a talker. Yeah, I know, you'd never know it...but I am truly not the type of person to call and ask for help or even just reach out to people in times of need. Hell, I have I hard time reaching out to people just because I wanna hang out or something. It's something I want to work on. Shout out to one person who has been one of the closest to me in this journey - thank you for being there and being accepting even though I know it's been hard to see through all my tears of late. This is how one friend explained it to me - "I see your pain and tears but I remember your laughter and smile. I'm waiting for the day it will return and I want to be there for that."

Today I got the long awaited answer to my long and painful fight. Today I learned that I have been believed. Today, I can finally say that my struggles have not been in vain. Today I start the climb back up the mountain to where I can stand tall and proud of who I am again. Today I can take a breath knowing that tomorrow I can take another. Today, I am beginning to return to the person I was. But give me time, it won't happen overnight.

And now the lyrics to Sarah McLachlans insightful song. May it bring you as much comfort as it has me, for it is wonderful to know that you are not alone. 

FALLEN
Heaven bend to take my hand 

And lead me through the fire

Be the long awaited answer

To a long and painful fight

Truth be told I've tried my best

But somewhere along the way 

I got caught up in all there was to offer

And the cost was so much more than I could bear

Though I've tried, I've fallen..

I have sunk so low 

I messed up

Better I should know

So don't come round here

And tell me I told you so...

We all begin with good intent

Love was raw and young

We believed that we could change ourselves

The past could be undone

But we carry on our backs the burden

Time always reveals

In the lonely light of the morning

In the wound that would not heal

It's the bitter taste of losing everything 

that I've held so dear

Though I've tried, I've fallen..

I have sunk so low 

I messed up

Better I should know

So don't come round here

And tell me I told you so...

Heaven bend to take my hand 

Nowhere left to turn

I'm lost to those I thought were friends

To everyone I know

Oh they turn their heads embarrassed

pretend that they don't see

But it's one missed step

One slip before you know it

And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed

Though I've tried, I've fallen..

I have sunk so low 

I messed up

Better I should know

So don't come round here

And tell me I told you so...

Final thoughts: 

I have not changed. Who I think I am has. 

My appearance hasn't changed. My view in the mirror has.

My value hasn't changed. My perception of my worthiness has.

One Step Ahead of the White Tuxedo Army

Some Say - Skydiggers

I haven't written anything in a long time because I don't like to write with nothing but dark thoughts running through my brain. When all control of life is gone there is only one way to find peace and tranquility. For me, in the depths of the bathtub filled with salty tears there is peace. Sometimes you just want the pain to stop. These last two years of my life have been the hardest I have ever dealt with. And if you know me, that is saying a lot. 

I know and understand desperation. I know and understand loss. I know and understand pain. But this is different. Hope is gone. Hope is that one singular thing that can keep you going above everything else. With hope, you can see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. With hope you can see a brighter tomorrow and you can garner the strength from deep within to wait for that day to come. I had hope...once...not anymore. And that hurts. 

I was that annoying optimist that could always find good in everything. I grew up without a father but I had an amazing mother who ensured we were happy and well-adjusted despite that. I felt my fathers love and I was barely 2 years old when he died. When my Mom and 2 sisters died, I concocted an explanation in my head as to why they left me and my brother behind. It made sense to my 12-year old mind and gave me peace. Besides, I wasn't alone, I still had my brother. Even in the extensive burn scars I suffered I saw positive aspects. I didn't lose my sight, I had all my limbs and full mobility. No matter how bad things were, they could always be worse. That attitude and a stubbornness that worked tirelessly to ensure that bad things within my control were turned around did indeed flip to the sunny side of life and outlook.

Control is a key concept here. If you leave your circumstances to chance or in the hands of others you lose control of your life. I think that fundamentally what we seek from infancy to adulthood and beyond, is not so much independence as it is control. What we wear, eat, do and who we hang out with etc. It's a battle with our parents. And to be considered successfully reared, we have wrested this control from our parents and used it for the good and benefit of ourselves and others with whom we may connect. Having independence really just means you can do it on your own. Being as most of us have a burning desire to find a mate to share our life with, I don't think we really want independence. Co-dependency is what we really seek.

I had indeed achieved success in my life because I had that control. I had survived and thrived despite a decidedly traumatic early childhood that beat on me until my mid-20's. I made a lot of bad choices in terms of my personal relationships but I was smart enough to get out before too much damage was done. And ever the optimist - if it weren't for the genetic input of one specific relationship, I wouldn't have the beautiful children I have today. Nature vs Nurture, I will take some credit for the people they have become despite my lack of the y-chromosome :)

But I digress, back to the idea of my personal success. Just living and breathing is not life -that is existence. I carved out a happy life for myself and children despite some rough economic times and times when the support of a secondary parental figure or family member would have been beneficial. We didn't have it all but we had each other. Just recently I found myself scanning 19 photo albums filled with memories before packing them up for storage - and with every page I turned and digitized  I found myself smiling and thinking "We had a good life!" Besides a few camping trips, there aren't a lot of vacation pictures in that hoard of albums but rather Life Pictures. What we did, what we had, where we lived was my decision as the soul parental influence. I think I was successful because I had everything I needed including the essentials of life but also two children I was fiercely proud of, a job I loved and above all else - peace, contentment and happiness. That's success - to me.

Did I want more? Of course, that is what dreams are made of and what keeps us reaching forward to improve. One day that European vacation or re-doing the hardwood floors would be a reality. Just like it took time to get the new fridge and car. If a magic genie popped down in front of me to grant a wish, I would naturally by-pass all the material crap and bring my family back for one more hug and to introduce my babes to them. 

People/professionals who have met me since my breakdown can't believe that I was so happy. But it is the truth. To me life was too short to be sad. Unpleasantness was cast aside. The adult game of Peek-a-boo. If I didn't see it I could pretend it wasn't real. So when people at the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board attacked me - I didn't fight back. I believed in the honesty and good will of people. I believed that the truth would reveal itself. I believed that I would be protected if I spoke honestly. But no, it wasn't to be. Eventually, I voiced my allegations of bullying to people who were in a position to investigate. They didn't. But I became a liability with information that would set nobody free and hang a lot of people from the crucifix without their Savior to bail them out. I had to go. Relentless in their attack until I broke. And then to add insult to injury, my traumatic past was used against me. In layman's terms, I wasn't bullied by my supervisors, I was reacting inappropriately to people because I was still traumatized by my past. Neatly absolves them from mistreating an employee by bullying them. Something like blaming a back injury as a result of a work incident on a fall off a tricycle as a toddler. Yes, it's that stupid!

In the depths of despair today, after two years of battling the demons of S-L Corporation, I can't make anyone understand that this depression will continue until I am believed and able to regain control. For 10 years I worked and paid both my union dues and share of benefits so that I would be covered in the event of disability. So tell me why I have to now watch everything I worked so hard for slip through my fingers. My home, which I bought to secure my future and was not so extravagant that I could not afford it. Indeed it was completely affordable and I had far less than 15 years left until I was free and clear of a mortgage. Now, that home is a shell. Everything that made it a home is sold or boxed up. Without my income, without my Long-term disability, I can no longer afford to live here. Of course having done everything right and not sponging off the governmental system to raise my family, I have screwed myself. No one will subsidize me living here. Does anyone understand that I don't want that? I just want what I am entitled to.

Please tell me what I did to deserve to lose my house and everything in it. Did I skip a payment of my benefit package? Did I lie about my current medical and mental condition? Did 4 separate mental health professionals, my family doctor and countless other professionals I have encountered in the last 2 years lie on my behalf. I have supportive documentation that would fill the trunk of a mid-sized sedan and yet I continue to be denied Long-term disability. I wonder if the corporation stooges would like someone in my current mentally fragile state being responsible for the care, safety and education of their special needs children? I've said it before, there is only one way I'll feel safe at work, if I can bring my friend Smith and his sidekick with me.  

Someone needs to tell these insurance companies that it isn't fair to totally destroy a persons life while they sit back in their executive chairs pushing your file from one claims consultant to another. Am I asking for money from your personal bank account or money that I paid into the insurance? Why is it okay to allow this to drag on with no end in sight. 

Well, the end may be near. Professionals are trying to get me a new residence in the Rubber Room Hotel. Meanwhile the employees of the crisis center call daily to see if I am still breathing. And you have to answer their phone calls or they send the policing brigade to break down your door to verify or disprove your current meta-physical state. And the insurers continue to leave me hanging while I pack away the life I had into boxes not knowing where I am going. Maybe I am just getting my affairs in order. You see, I can't really go anywhere. Technically, I am still an employee, how far away can I go from my place of work before they say - you are fired. I wish they would fire me - because I promise you that a lot of information would be leaked to the public for the to draw their own conclusions. "Heels" would be named, so would the "Oh dear" ladies - the pain associated with the thoughts of these people is so great that I have to push them out of my mind. I am not strong enough right now to deal with that pain.

Did you hear about that Los Angeles police officer, Christopher Jordan Dorner,  that was fired and then went on a shooting rampage? When he snapped and began to seek revenge, his employer issued a statement indicated that they would re-open his allegations of racism as they may have been erroneous in their dismissal of him. Too little too late, I'd say. I sympathize with the man and I understand what drove him. I am sorry he died instead of his tormentors. These are his words from his manifesto. It sounds eerily familiar if you substitute DPCDSB for LAPD.

"I know most of you who personally know me are in disbelief to hear from media reports that I am suspected of committing such horrendous murders and have taken drastic and shocking actions in the last couple of days. You are saying to yourself that this is completely out of character of the man you knew who always wore a smile wherever he was seen. I know I will be villified by the LAPD and the media. Unfortunately, this is a necessary evil that I do not enjoy but must partake and complete for substantial change to occur within the LAPD and reclaim my name.....The question is, what would you do to clear your name?"

I leave you now with a simple musing that I wrote trying to succinctly state my case:

"My childhood including...

                     - surviving the deaths of all 5 of my family members

                     - over-coming my grandmothers warped sense of child-rearing

                     - refusing to succumb to the typical teenage angst and tribulations 

...had NO bearing on the events that occurred during my employ with the Dufferin-Peel Catholic District School Board 25 years later. Nor did those childhood events give them the right to abuse and harass me in any way."

And finally, an insurance company that is set up and we pay into to be there when we need them should not be permitted to take our life and dignity to avoid paying what is owed.