tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68334556339545061962024-02-07T06:43:52.295-05:00My Mind's ClosetI'm hoping to heal through cleaning out my mind's closet - to release all the secrets, to have you listen and to be finally heard. My life, surviving a tragic childhood of sexual abuse and abandonment. Growing up, the journey, the process of healing, speaking out. Getting there. My memoir. Life now at forty something. My personal daily life. My compass goes in all directions, so there will be posts and pics that interest all. Your insight. The lighter side...eventually.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-51457830413098858072014-03-31T10:55:00.002-04:002014-03-31T11:00:40.878-04:00Game of Thrones - Epic Return April 6th!<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">On the edge of my seat, I am! On HBO, 9pm, April 6, 2014 - can't arrive soon enough. The return of Game of Thrones - a epic season 4 will be bestowed upon us all!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The greatest series of our time thanks to amazing author George R.R. Martin. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You can read an excerpt from his next novel in the series here <a href="http://www.georgerrmartin.com/excerpt-from-the-winds-of-winter/" target="_blank">excerpt-from-the-winds-of-winter</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">His fantasy driven, historic period based stories with intense sexuality and savage, brutal murderous plots make for great television viewing. That's what people want - SEX, HATE, MURDER, BETRAYAL, LOVE, FANTASY.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">With amazing costumes, sets and filming locations, you can't not love Game of Thrones!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tyla</span></div>
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http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-34978302195839338492014-03-27T10:14:00.001-04:002014-03-27T10:14:26.148-04:00Oscar Pistorius From the Courtroom Week 4<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The State's case is completed. Prosecutor Nel put forth the facts to the best of his ability. It will be interesting to see what type of cross-examiner he is when he gets that opportunity beginning on Monday, March 28, 2014. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The defence for Oscar Pistorius will lay out his case in great detail. In South Africa if the accused is going to take the stand in their own defence they must be first in the line-up of witnesses. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">This week Mrs. Stipp gave her version of events. You'll recall that her husband Dr. Johan Stipp was an earlier witness for the state. She was a credible witness. Educated and highly intelligent. What stood out was she indicated there were two sets of shots with a pause in between when she heard the screams of a female. She was caught in a lie on the stand regarding whether she was present when the photographs of her smaller balcony door/window were taken. The defence brought to the court's attention that there was a hand visible holding back the curtain in the photo. The wrist of the hand clearly showing a woman's watch. Well, Mrs. Stipp was asked to show the watch she was wearing in court and it was the same watch in the photo. Mrs. Stipp said, she wasn't present for all the sets of pictures, but yes, for that photo in particular, she was. This is not significant in my opinion. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Next on the stand was the cellular expert, Captain Francois Moller. He had carriage of the technology evidence: iPads, cellular phones, Blackberries, Mac computer. The state had him read out certain WhatsApp chat/text messages between the deceased and the accused. Four messages were read into the court record that basically brought attention to the fact that the couple had some arguments. The gist was that Oscar treated Reeva with disrespect in public and he acted like a sulking child. He was jealous when she spoke to another male. He picked on her for her accent and chewing gum. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In my opinion, he portrayed some control issues, typical jealous - they were only four months into their relationship, so minor spats getting to know each other and being threatened of other men speaking to your gorgeous model girlfriend is not unusual. Being disrespectful and a tad controlling though is a red flag. As is apologizing and making excuses after i.e. Oscar said he behaved inappropriately because he was sick, had a headache and was hungry. Reeva in her text message was honest about how the accused made her feel, she stood up to him and stated that she was scared of him and didn't like the way he snapped at her. I personally once was in a two-year relationship with a man that was similar to this in the early stages of dating. I'll tell you, just from these text conversations alone, my feeling is Oscar and Reeva would not have lasted. It's unfortunate that she didn't end this doomed relationship straightaway after he treated her like shit these few number of times. Reeva gave Oscar one too many chances and she ended up killed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Whether her death is proved accidental or not, this union had verbal abuse and potential for physical violence written all over it eventually in some form or another. Oscar was definitely a jerk boyfriend to her by belittling and embarrassing her in public more than once. His behaviour would have just continually progressed to different levels of a**hole. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I don't believe the text messages were that damning to the accused as there were over 1060 conversations between the two of them that portrayed a loving and kind nature. Which the defence took no time in pointing out in cross-examination. Some weight will go towards the fact that the deceased stated in writing that she was scared of him though. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Women don't say they are scared of their boyfriends normally. That's a great concern. I know I have never felt or said that I'm scared of my husband. I was very scared of my prior boyfriend hence why I have no regrets of the demise</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> of that relationship! Women don't say they are scared without good reason. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I continue to reserve judgment until the defence rest their case and final submissions are in from both counsel, which could be quite sometime before that happens. I predict the latter of May, perhaps the beginning of June before all of this is said and done. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The defence requested and was granted by the court the chance to recall forensic expert, police Colonel Johan Vermeulen who gave evidence regarding the cricket bat and the damage on the commode closet door. I didn't gather any thing significant from this recall of this witness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The defence requested the court's indulgence to be given an opportunity to consult with those state witnesses that were not called. Court reconvenes on Monday. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tyla</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-26148636876391682982014-03-24T13:18:00.001-04:002014-03-24T13:18:18.160-04:00Oscar Pistorius From the Courtroom Week 3<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In week three we heard from the Firearms Academy where Oscar took a course on gun safety and wrote an exam in order to be able to own guns. Sean Rens gave evidence that Oscar passed this exam and was educated in safety practices i.e. knowing your target visually before firing. I'd say an epic fail on that one since he could not see who was behind the commode closet door. The witness gave the impression though that there was no excuse for Oscar's choices when it came to firearm practices.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Also, the police photographer, Warrant Officer Berand van Staden, went through the albums in evidence tediously with the prosecutor. Items that stood out were the fact that the accused had washed his hands prior to a sample being taken of gunshot residue and blood. The defense inquired why he chose certain particular photos of Oscar mostly bloody. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The defence in my opinion has proved that the crime scene was contaminated by police and that some credibility is in question due to the missing watch, footprints, evidence handling without gloves etc. Is it enough though? No, as I believe the scene was also disturbed by the accused by moving the body, and when he went back upstairs to put a shirt on. This would explain the blood on the bedroom wall, simply blood transfer. He had blood on his hands and in moving his hands around blood was transferred to the wall. I don't believe anything occurred in the bedroom.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Ballistics expert, Captain Christian Magena, was an excellent witness. He knew his stuff and rarely had to refer to his notes. It was very clear that:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oscar was on his stumps at the time of the shooting.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">He shot tap - pause - tap, tap, tap.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Reeva was in a standing position by the toilet bowl facing the door when the first shot impacted her right hip. This bullet caused her to give out and became seated or slumped on the magazine rack.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The second bullet did not hit her, but hit the wall and ricocheted, which caused fragments of the bullet to spray hitting her in the back causing bruising.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The witness demonstrated how she was in a defensive position bringing her hands to her head with her arms bent upwards when the third bullet went through her upper left arm.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The fourth bullet hit the victim's head through her fingers when she slumped completely over at the waist and her head came to rest on the seat of the open toilet. The blood from her head wound pooled into the bowl and the blood from her arm wound pooled on the floor below. </span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The defence tried to rattle Officer Magena, but he wasn't having it. It stood to his analysis and version of what transpired.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Blood spatter expert, Colonel Ian van der Nest, was a straightforward witness explaining the transfer of blood on the sitting room chair downstairs was simply cast off while the victim was carried down the stairs. As was the blood on the cricket bat, simply transfer, the bat was not used in an blunt force trauma scenario on the victim.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Now that I've heard the ballistics expert where he describes the pause between the first and second shots and that there was no way it was a double tap because that second shot would have happened so fast it would have impacted Reeva's hip region a second time, I'm thinking she had time to scream out in pain and this is the female scream that the neighbour heard. This would show intent to kill because the accused would hear and identify with the female scream. Up until this evidence I hadn't heard the prosecution lay any groundwork for 'intent'. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I remain reserved in my judgments until I have heard all the evidence from the defence.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tyla</span></div>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-32309559215787113522014-03-15T14:02:00.000-04:002014-03-15T14:02:53.386-04:00Oscar Pistorius Trial From the Courtroom Week 2<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I continue to follow the Oscar Pistorius trial very closely. I have watched all ten days of the court proceedings in their entirety. That's what you do when you're on disability and not working. The viewing is bringing back many memories of my own days sitting in court day after day listening to all the facts, marking exhibits, swearing in witnesses, passing documents to the judge, etc.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I find it amusing how people who comment on YouTube are so oblivious to the court process. Well, I shouldn't say that because that is a good thing because one the commenter has never been to court before for either a criminal, divorce, small claims, family court matter whatsoever and/or they have never worked in the legal field. This would explain the comments related to why does defence counsel go around in circles with his questioning, he's so irritating, ugh, shut-up already, why doesn't he move on...and so on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I will tell you this, Mr. Roux is extremely talented and knows exactly what he is doing. In the same breath, so is Mr. Nel, the prosecutor. They are both doing a good job. Witnesses have all been considerable articulate and have answer all questions put to them to the best of their ability.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The accused is behaving as he should in a courtroom. Keeping his composure when possible and being human when he is overcome with his emotions. I don't see an actor in anyway, shape or form in Mr. Pistorius' demeanour. He is a living person who smiles when he feels it, smirks when he disagrees with a witness in that "oh my God that's not what happened" sort of way, which is typical. He retched and vomited during Professor Gert Saayman's testimony of the autopsy as horrific still photographs of the victim's body were on the visual aids in the courtroom. The professor gave disturbing details in a scientific manner that to any person hearing them would be cringing, so I imagine if I were the person who inflicted all of this damage to a person I cared about and how it would impact me, yes, I may vomit as well and cry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's not that I feel sorry for the accused. I feel empathy for this entire situation that has changed many lives. Lives that were not being wasted. Reeva was just coming into her career as a model and television personality, a law graduate and advocate for charity. Oscar a champion runner, supporting amputees, with an education. Reeva's parents surviving the death of their only child. Oscar's siblings doing their best to support him during this trial. No one wins. There is no satisfaction in the end. When all of these matters are said and done, these people will move on with their lives and all of this trauma will be clung to their brains and hearts like adhesive that will never come off. Not unlike all of us survivors of childhood sexual abuse. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In week two of the trial details I found interesting were:</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Reeva's stomach contents indicated she had eaten two hours prior, meaning she would have had to have eaten at 1:00 a.m.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Oscar did was on his stumps when he shot at the toilet door.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Two cellphones were located on the floor in the toilet room, one white, one black. It will be interesting to see what the phone records show.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The gun was lying on a mat still cocked.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There is contradicting statements by police on who had gone upstairs and when. </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Former South African Police Services colonel Schoombie van Rensburg testified that he was the first officer on the scene at 3:55 a.m. on February 14, 2013, and that he and former lead investigator Hilton Botha followed the blood trail to the first floor.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Mishandling of evidence and police competence in issue.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">Oscar Pistorius a gun hobbyist and aggressive/immature in nature with the handling of such.</span></span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">I still wonder if the couple was having an argument in the early morning hours, whether domestic violence is a factor, when was the last call made from Reeva's cell phone, how tainted is the physical evidence, the issues with officer's lying in their statements, did Oscar disturb anything upstairs when Dr. Stipp was present at 3:17 a.m., was the ex-boyfriend a factor, why did Reeva lock the toilet door (they had been only dating four months), were the curtains drawn...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I for one from what I've heard so far about South Africa would not want to reside there. I'm surprised that Mr. Pistorius hadn't applied for citizenship elsewhere and with his celebrity like others of the same stature move to Los Angeles or the US in general. Check out the crime statistics here. </span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.crimestatssa.com/precinct.php?id=174" target="_blank">Pretoria Crime Stats</a> They are mindblowing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Read an article of a different view of living in South Africa. </span><a href="http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/world/the-south-africa-being-described-in-court-is-not-the-country-i-know/article8868814/" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;" target="_blank">Living in South Africa</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'll catch you up next week with details of week three.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tyla</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-89018752149507066912014-03-07T16:23:00.001-05:002014-03-07T16:23:33.774-05:00Oscar Pistorius Trial - From the Courtroom Not the Youtube Comments Courtroom - Week 1<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The Blade Runner's first week of trial has come to a weekend adjournment and will resume on Monday, March 10, 2014, at 9:30 a.m.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Oscar Pistorius is charged with the murder of his girlfriend, Reeva Steenkamp. On February 13, 2013, in the early morning hours of February 14, 2013, Oscar Pistorius shot Steenkamp four times through a closed bathroom door at his residence in South Africa. He has pleaded not guilty to the charge of murder and states that he thought a burglar was in his home and that he and Reeva's safety was his concern and that he mistakenly caused the death of Steenkamp.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have been following the trial on YouTube sabcdigitalnews channel. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/sabcdigitalnews" target="_blank">South Africa Digital News</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Day 1, Session 1</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">All witnesses are under a protection order that they cannot be shown on camera or are any still photos to be posted of them by the media. You simply view the courtroom staff, judge, lawyers, audience, and Mr. Pistorius sits alone in the holding dock. My observations of the accused are that he appears somber and wishes that this had never happened. The trial days are long and monotonous and you see Oscar rubbing his eyes and forehead in exhaustion. On day 4 when radiologist witness is on the stand and he is asked what did you see when you arrived at the accused house and is shown a photograph of the deceased victim, I clearly saw Oscar emotional and remorseful, but that was the single time this wee, otherwise his composure is calm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I personally sat for seven years behind the bench in court exactly where you see the presiding judges' clerk, Suzette sitting. That was my job for seven years. I've heard many cases, handled huge amounts of disturbing exhibits and have first-hand experience observing prosecutors and defence tactics in court. The trial is in the very early stages, but both sides are clearly doing their jobs. Witnesses so far are very well spoken, in control of their answers and not easily riled by Mr. Roux, Oscar's lead defence lawyer ( <a href="http://www.enca.com/south-africa/pistorius-trial-who-barry-bulldog-roux" target="_blank">mini Roux CV</a> ). He's obviously talented and working very diligently for his client. For the prosecution, Mr. Gerrie Nel. The judge is Her Lady Thokozile Masipa <a href="http://www.channel4.com/news/pistorius-murder-trial-reeva-main-players-who" target="_blank">pistorius murder trial key people</a><span style="color: #2c2c2c;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 17px; line-height: 26.002599716186523px;">.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The witnesses testimony summarized so far is:</span></div>
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<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">neighbours were awaken by screams (bloodcurdling, loud)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">the screams sounded like a female</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">the screams were of a nature that something terrible was happening, life threatening terrible, a family tragedy was occurring</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">then there were a loud sound, like bang, bang, bang</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">four shots were heard (it's confirmed)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">the radiologist heard cries for help three times, he called estate security and he attended the scene to help</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">he observed Reeva's body at the bottom of the stairs with Oscar kneeled beside her with one of his hands covering the wound in her groin and he had his fingers in her mouth trying to sweep or open her airway</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">the doctor stated that Oscar was crying and praying to God to let Reeva live, he was inconsolable, begging to devote his life to God if He would not let her die</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">the doctor saw no signs of life, he check her pupils, neck pulse and noted there was blood and brain matter mixed in her hair that it was too late</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It's unfortunate that people make up their minds before hearing all the facts and evidence and have determined an accused persons guilt or innocence based on just their own opinion. Did Oscar Pistorius killed Reeva Steenkamp? Yes, he did. That's not what's in question. Did he kill her with premeditation, with plan, with intention. Perhaps they did have an argument (that hasn't come out yet in testimony), even if they were arguing and in a fit of rage still doesn't prove premeditation.<a href="http://www.ehow.com/info_8237616_difference-between-murder-culpable-homicide.html" target="_blank">difference-between-murder-culpable-homicide</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I'm not sure why South Africa hasn't had jury trials since 1969, and I'm not comfortable with one not having the option to choose judge and jury or judge alone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Perhaps it is from my experience the weight I put on reserving my personal judgments until after I've heard all of the facts in the environment of the judicial system, but I also give credit to myself for the person that I just am - one who believes in fairness and justice for all persons. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I will continue to follow this trial and we will see whether I agree with the Judges' decision in the end based on what I heard from the courtroom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Tyla</span></div>
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-45359648740984944532014-03-04T11:51:00.000-05:002014-03-04T11:51:07.762-05:00Won a Battle - War Results TBD<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Good news! Read all about it!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's true, I have achieved a successful outcome worthy of mentioning. I continue to jump the hurdles and weather on through the roadblocks that continuously come my way regarding my return to work. As mentioned, in previous post <a href="http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/2014/01/up-hill-battle-to-return-to-work.html" target="_blank">Up Hill Battle Return to Work</a> </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">my employer was seeking a IME, which I was not pleased about for all sorts of reasons. Today, several weeks later, I have been advised that my insurance is sending me to a Functional Abilities Examination/Evaluation (FAE). This test will be carried out over a two-day period and will be conducted locally, so I don't have to drive for hours. I`m very happy about not having to sit in a car all day because this would only increase my back pain and set me up for failure.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The physiotherapy/occupational department at my local hospital will do the FAE utilizing tests to measure my abilities. I was advised that some tests will be job specific and some will not. The reason for this is to determine whether you can do 'any' types of jobs and not just your own or not. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once the two days of testing are complete a report will be prepared and sent only to my insurance provider, who in turn will either summarize the information because the employer is not entitled to any information regarding diagnosis, and if the document is restricted to only my limitations/restrictions and abilities the report in its entirety would be forwarded. I will be able to obtain a copy through my GP.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I feel this is a win for me because this individual is not giving a independent medical opinion as a third party practitioner, therefore, my doctor's opinion is not in question here. Also, I'm not required to sign some absurd consent form, which was not applicable to my case as my employer prior was requesting such.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZdTm383mYroFVb8frzZ67FKIPjmDq-oexzNfW0JpohZ3pV1NQ0FBUYZpzBnJOuWYQqgNDhE9HdrSCdAy9TlU-4jcdIiVnD6bKtvDssQZSwyf7TyUOB9hkiSvz0A8Vqp48hxHnUnDdaaF/s1600/respect.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZdTm383mYroFVb8frzZ67FKIPjmDq-oexzNfW0JpohZ3pV1NQ0FBUYZpzBnJOuWYQqgNDhE9HdrSCdAy9TlU-4jcdIiVnD6bKtvDssQZSwyf7TyUOB9hkiSvz0A8Vqp48hxHnUnDdaaF/s1600/respect.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyone out there who may have experience to share with me about an FAE, please share in the comments.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wish me luck,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tyla</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-77543028168735139312014-01-28T12:38:00.000-05:002014-01-28T12:38:50.968-05:00Up Hill Battle to Return to Work<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A new experience has begun. I have been trying to return to work since July 2013. I'm having no success. Please share your stories with returning to work after/with an injury/illness/condition.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was assigned a Rehabilitation Consultant (RC) by my long-term income protection provider (disability insurance) back in July. She met with me in person on July 4th. This was her initial assessment of me. She asked me questions about what my restriction/limitations were. Whether I could return to my same job and what accommodations I may need. Do need. She wrote a report, made a plan and what came of that was my employer requesting that my medical information be more specific. The RC designed a questionnaire she called it for my doctor and sent it directly to him. Once this completed questionnaire was provided to my employer on Sep 11th, it took until Nov 26, for my employer to advise the RC that they wanted a Independent Medical Exam (IME).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/QMRi1Cn4L5c?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've done my research and IMEs are not a good thing for employees. Here's how an IME works. Firstly, to say the exam is "independent" is a joke. The choice of doctor to carryout this IME is no choice at all, the medical practitioner is dictated to you. You are not the client. Your employer is the doctor's client. So, in that case any report that is done by this doctor is going to be written in favour of whatever your employer is looking for the report to indicate for them. These reports are very costly; upwards of $4000 that your employer is paying. The employee does not get a draft of the report prior to your employer because you are not the client. So if there are any inaccuracies or items that you do not agree with, tough luck. Your employer has already absorbed what the report says. What if there are contradictions with what your own doctor has provided. What opinion do you think the employer is going to rely on? Oh yes, don't kid yourself. The report that they paid thousands of dollars for.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, yes I'm freaking out! I simply require a type of chair that has a feature to recline and elevate my legs, with a laptop table to work.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqG-Sklgf8LmLKxCfPsyRIa-bZUO_D-Pb5rXojjLyCS8FCUYhmzAQkxURD2hu5aRTq-z9o96E5txccCgD84fuRRlatoUoDCwrxE3F6CglmuhBSudJbiJGzWpGj2_4aT1MDsVd5I-9DTuX_/s1600/untitled.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqG-Sklgf8LmLKxCfPsyRIa-bZUO_D-Pb5rXojjLyCS8FCUYhmzAQkxURD2hu5aRTq-z9o96E5txccCgD84fuRRlatoUoDCwrxE3F6CglmuhBSudJbiJGzWpGj2_4aT1MDsVd5I-9DTuX_/s1600/untitled.png" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Has your employer ever put you through extreme measures when you felt it unnecessary? Have you ever fought for your Human Rights? I feel punished for having a disability. I never asked for this life, but you must fight for a life to have!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tyla</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-43519402332948875192013-04-30T11:29:00.002-04:002013-12-16T11:19:29.913-05:00Second Back Surgery<p dir=ltr>On February 8th, 2013, I underwent my second back surgery.  I had to travel 1.5 hours West because there are no neurosurgeons in my city of 56,000.  My surgery was scheduled for 7:30 a.m.  There were no delays.  The next thing I knew was I was waking up in the recovery room with about eight other patients.  These new blow-in hot air blanket gadgets they have now are wonderful.  I was nice and warm, but that was about all that was nice.  I have never experienced so much pain in all my life.  I have had a vaginal home birth with no drugs and that was a 5 compared to this ordeal.</p>
<p dir=ltr>I was given pain medication that had no purpose as it did not help.  I have had a similar surgery to this and this felt in no way similar!</p>
<p dir=ltr>Recovery was difficult. The meds make me feel sick. Eating a chore. BMs a nightmare. I felt like a brick was left in my back, never mind a scaple. Gradually, I healed, but the numbness in my thigh, calf and foot remain the same. </p>
<p dir=ltr>I am thankful I can do most things: walk, climb stairs, stand. My limitations are basically lifting, bending and sitting and standing too long.</p>
<p dir=ltr><u>Tyla</u><br>
</p>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-8853113918901606122013-04-22T13:46:00.000-04:002013-04-22T14:51:55.222-04:00I'm A CatRead that title and people will think, "Say what?" It's true. It won't be long before I actually grow whiskers! I basically lie in bed 24/7. Get my nutrient requirements for the day. Occasionally perk-up to noise or menial tasks, like showering and relieving myself. <br />
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For anyone who has never experienced chronic, long-term pain, depression, mental stress, self-loathing, anxiety and lack of human connection than you just won't understand. The thing is, I think there are few human beings on this earth who have never struggled with such times. In this case my audience is vast. <br />
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I can't figure out how to change my situation. I procrastinate. I have no motivation. It's cold outside. I have nothing productive to do. I'm bored. I'm lonely. I'm afraid. I'm embarrassed. I'm weak. I'm in pain. I don't care. Here's what my therapist hears.<br />
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I don't actually say these excuses to her out loud in a session, but I'm thinking them in my head. Of course, I know the negative thoughts in my head are bullshit, but how do I stopped this thinking? I do want to, but I've been in this state for some time now and its become a way of life. A shitty day to day existence. I'm a cat. </div>
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So at my last T with Auds, (that's what I put in my calendar when I have an appointment for therapy) she asked me "What do you like to do"? I don't know. She called me out and said "C'mon that's not true." She was getting on my nerves last session. I have no idea what to do. I'm in a situation. I'm on long-term disability at 43 years-old. WTF?! I was already doing what I love and was a superstar at it. Now, I'm not so sure. How can someone love being a paper-pusher. I was organized, fast, creative, innovative, problem-solver, go-gett'er, the person everyone sucked the life out of....hmmmm, yes, a realization, I was USED a lot! With never any written recognitions put on my personnel file and certainly never any advancement. </div>
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I read the other day the difference between a job and a career is a career has opportunities. It shocked me to realize I only had a job. I seriously thought I actually had a career to be proud of. It wasn't the work I was proud of it was how I was amazing at everything that was put in front of me to accomplish. When I do something, I do it well. That's just the way I am. I have my own personal production standards. Not perfectionism. That's a whole 'nother problem, and one I can proudly say I do not have in my repertoire of issues! Smile. <br />
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Ahhhh, so it's passion we're talking about. Yes, Auds, I get it, but I can't find it! Here's some things I like doing.</div>
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Flower gardening</div>
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Reading and Researching</div>
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Walking</div>
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Camping</div>
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Watching TV</div>
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Playing Scrabble</div>
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Writing</div>
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Giving blood</div>
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Here's some things I dream about doing. Not like 'big dreams', but 'it'd be cool to do' kind of dreams. There's a difference.</div>
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Become a pharmacist</div>
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Become a tattoo artist</div>
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Try therapeutic art journalling</div>
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Write my memoir</div>
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Learn to write so I can be a real writer</div>
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Travel and work from place to place </div>
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Work with a prevention team specific to incest sexual abuse by a sibling</div>
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Become a high school guidance counsellor</div>
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Design an App</div>
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Rant, rant, rant. </div>
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I live in reality though. All those annoying quotes on Pinterest like 'be all you can be' 'your dreams are waiting' 'just do it'...well guess what there are real factors that stand in the way.</div>
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Money</div>
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Time</div>
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Life is not doing what you love. It's doing anything that you can actually achieve in the situation that you're in and it allows you to live and not just exist. Take the pressure off and stop feeling like a failure.</div>
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If you happen to be passionate and love what you're doing, you are so very lucky. I compare it to finding a red diamond.<br />
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Tyla <br />
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http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-36322419475130972112012-12-13T14:17:00.001-05:002012-12-13T14:17:24.648-05:00No One Asks - - Part I<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here I lay another unproductive, useless day. My pain is especially great today...but this post is not about that, so shall we dive right in to....my FEELINGS. Ick, barf, blah. I truly can say I'm coming to an escalation of being fed up with...feeling. Always negative. Dismal. Shitty. It's exhausting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can already hear you trying to comfort me...some rolling their eyes...such drama. Please let me be...feel this way. It's healthy. I hate 'pleasantries'...they are just that 'to please' oneself most times. We don't always need positive affirmations (as if they have some magical power), or hugs keyboard characters. No, it's not wrong to respond to people who are hurting in this way, but the fact is these responses serve no useful purpose. They are not advice or service driven. The best sympathy, which people don't normally request; to be pitied or felt sorry for is not productive, so I suggest silence and empathy. Empathy meaning you have in fact walked in those shoes...experienced matters that have brought on the same types of feelings and results is the only way you can truly empathize with another person. There is a huge difference. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1EUuQ6V6fhC81g65yCQZodkL4uoblplLurDYn_5ZikuE4aYS1Km2-G1H1iHo8zvU-nEAVNbCGMrmRdMMBG64l3zR6KFBex8ieTrPLIBqBFdXarjd4Yca90kFcl5JJTG1vqjcHTwOs5pEO/s1600/imagesCA12K8U1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img bea="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1EUuQ6V6fhC81g65yCQZodkL4uoblplLurDYn_5ZikuE4aYS1Km2-G1H1iHo8zvU-nEAVNbCGMrmRdMMBG64l3zR6KFBex8ieTrPLIBqBFdXarjd4Yca90kFcl5JJTG1vqjcHTwOs5pEO/s1600/imagesCA12K8U1.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Without the person explaining.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The best practice is to just listen, really actively listen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've been reading this</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WTSJ3840UHi-jEfO4kW37z8zW0lMSZBaP6XqL4EtdnzXj8uLNbifHrNx5g4-PxYUFo5m2cyz7km4RqtsPLG4mhHDR-N4rM6PV9lsMu0u8lAnyzfqhuFqBPVNaIoSRHTlRivDIcvOeauY/s1600/imagesCARZRFYA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img bea="true" border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1WTSJ3840UHi-jEfO4kW37z8zW0lMSZBaP6XqL4EtdnzXj8uLNbifHrNx5g4-PxYUFo5m2cyz7km4RqtsPLG4mhHDR-N4rM6PV9lsMu0u8lAnyzfqhuFqBPVNaIoSRHTlRivDIcvOeauY/s320/imagesCARZRFYA.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<a href="http://ca.shine.yahoo.com/10-self-help-lessons-writer-augusten-burroughs-160000837.htmle"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://ca.shine.yahoo.com/10-self-help-lessons-writer-augusten-burroughs-160000837.htmle</span></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I like his writing; it's in reality. His sarcasm. His dark humor. I've read it and as I was I had so many of those "that is so true" moments. No he is not a self-help expert...if he was a professional then his books would be written all 'warm and fuzzy' with do this do that to fix yourself bullshit. What Mr. Burroughs is is a raw and honest real life writer. In fact, he was sexual abused at the age of 13 for several years, so I'm not surprised by no means that I found a lot of familiarity of how I feel through his penmanship.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Going back to this the typical "Hi, Tyla. How are you?" Hi, John. I'm fine, thanks." "Just fine? It's a great day!" An expression of disapproval of my mood and suggest I wear a mask....that would be a fake smile, I guess. No one really gives a dam about how someone else is feeling.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTS5qxd4yHGT_fy3fCJ6RZG2wyoqPmhKhg934TCvJ_ZTwON_E0NjomezL7Z-8WmInc7YWwma0pvrpG1DGViVfwuLnXZvssFp_c-DzHk33F-iC-P5ySPBLC_TXx-Oh_yKVkGDAF9XKdNgGF/s1600/420556_183379341799591_209370108_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img bea="true" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTS5qxd4yHGT_fy3fCJ6RZG2wyoqPmhKhg934TCvJ_ZTwON_E0NjomezL7Z-8WmInc7YWwma0pvrpG1DGViVfwuLnXZvssFp_c-DzHk33F-iC-P5ySPBLC_TXx-Oh_yKVkGDAF9XKdNgGF/s1600/420556_183379341799591_209370108_n.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Society has a zero tolerance for negativity. Stop people! The greater good is you getting over YOUR discomfort when you feel awkward around someones unhappiness. You know who YOU are. Spare us your offensive intrusion of comments <em>"It can't be that bad. Put on a happy face. Life's short." </em>There is no nutritional value in these statements!<em> </em>If you don't like it, practice silence and/or avoidance. Simple. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Flip side. An individual who truly cares how you FEEL will ask just that, "How are you FEELING?" You will ask yourself do I trust this person to tell them the truth? Do they wholeheartedly care about you? Do their actions speak volumes of their sincerity consistently to you? Can you be vulnerable with this person? Well, the answer for me to all these questions is I've never had to ask myself these questions because I have no one asking me about my feelings.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tyla</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-26081797717463710012012-11-12T11:51:00.000-05:002012-11-12T11:51:48.552-05:00Abandonment - I Them, Them me<table id="wn"><tbody>
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<b>Noun</b></td><td valign="top"><br />
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<b>1.</b></td><td><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This is me, in one word, A-B-A-N-D-O-N-M-E-N-T.</span></b><br />
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<b>abandonment</b> - the act of giving something up <br />
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<a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/desertion">desertion</a>, <a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/forsaking">forsaking</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/rejection">rejection</a> - the act of rejecting something</div>
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<tr><td valign="top"></td><td valign="top"><b>2.</b></td><td>withdrawing support or help despite allegiance or responsibility <br />
<a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/defection">defection</a>, <a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/desertion">desertion</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/withdrawal">withdrawal</a> - the act of withdrawing</div>
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<tr><td valign="top"></td><td valign="top"><b>3.</b></td><td>the voluntary surrender without attempting to reclaim it or give it away <br />
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<a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/disposition">disposition</a>, <a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/disposal">disposal</a> - the act or means of getting rid of something</div>
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<a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/throwing+away">throwing away</a>, <a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/discard">discard</a> - getting rid something that is regarded as useless or undesirable</div>
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<a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/discard">discard</a> - (cards) the act of throwing out a useless card or of failing to follow suit<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The holes in my heart and mind.</td></tr>
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<br />I have never felt anything else. Do I take responsibility for some of the people who have left my life, yes. I can say though that the reason those certain individuals are no longer in my life was not because I abandoned them.<br />
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I was born in 1970, and I don't remember much of the first decade of my life. I don't remember whether we sat around the dinner table all together to eat each night, or being bathed, or tucked in, or reminded to brush my teeth. I don't remember Christmases, or having friends over to play, or being sick and my mother taking care of me. I remember what life wasn't. <br />
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There are six kids in my family; I the youngest and I don't remember being close to any of my siblings. I know my second oldest sister seemed to always be holding me in photos and she was fond of me when I was 8 to 10 years old, but when she left home for university I was still little and I felt desertion. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7mTrjZgLzFhlqhqwhsIHTsM3w6BFFc5I_Vfl035jMMT71M8vSbbFtZZI9OOu8Wf863pbekFQ7tic9z19DLW7czv8DnB_eBoyI5XBCITqlw72p14XhDh7R8lIOpfIKZn4MzbA49fcHPDI/s1600/imagesCASEGG42.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7mTrjZgLzFhlqhqwhsIHTsM3w6BFFc5I_Vfl035jMMT71M8vSbbFtZZI9OOu8Wf863pbekFQ7tic9z19DLW7czv8DnB_eBoyI5XBCITqlw72p14XhDh7R8lIOpfIKZn4MzbA49fcHPDI/s1600/imagesCASEGG42.jpg" /></a>I had no friends growing up, as I was bullied everyday in elementary school. I was always scared and alone. I felt again, abandoned, and this time by God, since I never did anything to deserve to have no friends. I'm not a person of faith, so I don't do well with the 'spirtual journey' aspect of healing. It's not me.</div>
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My mother abandon me emotionally I think the moment she birthed me. I was the last child, surely I wasn't planned, we were not a well-off family. I don't remember my mother ever reading to me, or walking me to school, or ever standing up for me. My mother was a narcissist. </div>
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My father abandon me physically when my parents divorced when I was 12. Though in the seventies, well I can't say what most father's were like, I can only speak about my own, but I use the line "back then" in terms that dad's were providers financially, you did what they told you to do or you'd get a spanking. He wasn't hands-on, like a lot of fathers are today. He wasn't mean to me, I remember we had food, shelter, running water most of the time, electricity. He was a good person and I felt his role was what it was supposed to be in those days.</div>
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My siblings left home one by one, sooner than most, 17, 19, 15, 18, 16, and me, at 14. As each one left, not that I remember, I felt left behind with mother. The withdrawal from me by all of them started very early on, leaving me feeling, again, abandoned.<br />
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Every time I needed my mother she did nothing. The bullies at school, she did nothing. She didn't call the principal, she didn't go to the school, she didn't call the parents of these kids. When she caught my brother molesting me, she told me to take a shower. I have no idea if she talked to him because he tried to touch me again that same afternoon. When her father was molesting me every time we went to my grandparents house, she did nothing. <br />
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When it was just me and her living together, while I was out being promiscuous, she was busy enjoying sex with all kinds of men, them dinning her, charming her as she used them for money, gifts and sex. She didn't give a dam about me, how I was skipping school, doing drugs, drinking alcohol and being sexual. She wasn't worried sick about her baby. She never went out driving around looking for me and finding me and removing me kicking and screaming ever. She provided no structure, no boundaries, no consequences. She was rid of me at 14 when I ran away. </div>
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Abandonment does not have to be the physical removal of a person from ones life because clearly my mother's actions were all of a 'discard' nature, like discarding a Kleenex.</div>
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I ran away because she made me move away with her to another city, with a new school for my senior year. It wasn't even 24 hours that I was missing, I had stole money from her to get a bus ticket right back to my home town. I spent the night in the lobby of an apartment building trying to keep warm, since none of my so-called friends were able to convince their moms to let me stay with them, and when I was finally kicked out, I ran the streets to my sister's house a snuck inside. My mother never cried for me or begged that I come back home. She was glad to have me not cramping her wanna be free, single lifestyle.</div>
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I never made any lasting friendships in high school either. Friends came and went, I was never a part of any group. I was used for sex. Guys would give me attention and we'd hangout, most times I didn't even have sex with them. I never had many girlfriends. When I did, they never lasted. They always ended up not liking me, or just abandoning me. Put it this way, there is no one from high school that I want to find on Facebook. College was not much different.<br />
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I lived with my oldest sister when I left my mother at 14. It worked for awhile and then we began to fight and I was breaking the rules, and it dissolved. Then I lived with my third oldest sister in another town, same thing, worked for a bit then started to fight when a guy came in the picture. I ended up moving in with him at 18.<br />
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Domestic violence entered my life at this time from 18 to 21 when I lived with him. He was 20 and had a really good job. He used his money as power and he was possessive and abusive to me. His mother was in the same thing with his dad, so she knew and she was his robot. So I guess he learned that from his dad. I finally got out of that when the bottle of pills were in my hand.<br />
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I then lived with another sister for awhile until I met my husband at 22. I moved out from her place on a fight as well, though. <br />
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One Christmas, I think it was 1996, my husband, his two children and I were at a my side of the families gathering at my sister's house and my mother started freaking out that she was hungry. I tried to calm her down and said make a snack. She prepared celery with cheese whiz for herself. Only herself. My step-kids and there were other grand kids in the house and she didn't even offer them any. She just stuck her nose up. She was still so selfish. She was still freaking out that the turkey was supposed to be ready. She was saying don't say were going to eat at six if were not! A few minutes later she's downstairs where the tables are set up for all of us to eat and she is still screaming and ranting that her blood sugar level is this and that! She's not diabetic. She starts to swear the F word. This is all happening in front of the kids. We stay for dinner and when we leave and get into the car my husband says to me we will never be part of this again. And we weren't. It just wasn't healthy. My step-kids should not have been subjected to this woman. I didn't have a holiday with them again until Easter 2000, when my son was born.<br />
<br />
When my son was eight months old, we went to my father's home for Easter. Another sister and her husband had moved in with my father. My mother always managed to be invited to these meals even when my parents were divorced for years and she was remarried, she would bring her husband with her. My mother asked this question "How much does he weigh now"? I said 20 lbs. In a high pitched response, she says "Oh my God, I wouldn't be able to lift him!" You have to know mother, oh how frail and fragile she tries so hard to portray herself. I just rolled my eyes. She could have sat down on the couch and held him on her lap!? Not that she'd paid any attention to her grandson since that first few days when he was born. She stopped by for 10 minutes to goo over him and hold a baby. During this same visit I noticed a plastic, leftover type container under the coffee table filled with weed. My sister's. I didn't want to be a part of this. I was a mother now, and I work with law enforcement. This was our very last holiday with my side of the family.<br />
<br />
Not long after this, my sister stopped by with her husband to visit. I brought the pot thing up to her and asked her to give it up, to quit. She said she had quit smoking, but oh no, with a smile on her face, no, no she couldn't give up that. I tried to explain to her that it was me and my son or the weed. That I wasn't going to put him at risk, or my job. She'd been busted before. You never know, she could be raided and were there at the house, my son get taken to the Children's Aid Society, even for 12 hours until I could explain...it happens. I don't want to associate with known people doing illegal activity. So from that day on I couldn't go to my father's house because she lived there with her choices. My dad never did anything or said anything. Again, I felt angry that she discarded my feelings, and was more committed to her habit than to me and her nephew--and abandoned, again, by her and my father. The rest of my siblings including my sexual abuser and my mother, I am now 100% estranged from because I don't participate. None of them have ever asked what happened, or why I am the way I am.<br />
<br />
Then when my father died in 2011, I had to see them all at the hospital for those seven days (see that post) and not one of them asked, or even attempted to resolve any issues, or bring anything up. I looked at it as an opportunity for someone, perhaps mother to ask one give a dam question or say something heartfelt to me, her daughter, but no, nothing. She sat there reading her book, doing crosswords, eating her snacks saying nothing to me. It was so awkward. I ended up making small talk, minimal, as my anger was just boiling inside of me, and all she could say could do was brag about her trip to Florida as she showed me pics of my oldest sister's house, her granddaughter etc on the viewer of her camera. As if I cared. Hello, you haven't spoken to me in near 10 years and you're wasting my time not talking about anything important, I wanted to scream at her. Having to be in the same room with my brother was making me ill; fake hugging him, as our dad lay brain dead from a stroke. I haven't heard from any of them since June 2011, when my dad died. Abandoned again, no one gives a fuck, that hey, I'm your sister, I'm your daughter and when I die DO NOT COME, to like as if, pay your respects! Fuck Off!<br />
<br />
I know I won't be a hypocrite and attend any other deaths in any way. If you can't be here in the present with the living, why would you when they're dead. There's no obligation because were related, to me that's unfortunate that I was cursed with that family tree.<br />
<br />
Does it hurt me, yes. When I see other people sharing happy times with their extended families, when people talk about their loving parents, I am envious, I fantasize briefly of such ideals. Do I wish, often. <br />
<br />
My first counsellor made a comment to me once, "maybe it's you abandoning them". Is it me? I'm a very emotional person, no one would no that though because I am mostly this person in hiding. My emotional filters and often my maturity, I've been told by my current therapist, are lacking. I've never been the type of person that thinks of a good or fair excuse for some one's lack of commitment, loyalty or honesty towards me. I've been told I'm paranoid. I always think the worst of people. I do because my childhood was destroyed and I can rely on no one--there's not one single person that I trust on this planet 100%. Not even my husband. I did trust him, but haven't for the last few years.<br />
<br />
People's actions or lack of action speak volumes to me. Human beings have instincts like no other. Our guts are usually right. When what you expect of a person doesn't happen, I think you should be able to question that. Why?<br />
<br />
Since I've been off work this go around, since May 2012, with my back pain, none of my peer co-workers have called, emailed or stopped by to visit. When I email them, I get no response. You know when you are being ignored and judged. Again, I feel abandoned by my workplace. I've spent a decade working with these people; you know even if it's not genuine you'd think someone would fake care out of etiquette purposes. What have I done to deserve this treatment?<br />
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My own son is pulling away from me. I know it is hard for him; a mother in pain. I've changed so much. A mother who no longer is working, a dropout from society. He says I'm no fun. I'm not. I've abandon him. I'm no better than she.<br />
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The single person that I thought would be with me 'til the end, the person...it was all just a fantasy. Trust? Did we ever have it? Respect? I doubt. It's always been a struggle emotionally with my husband. I've hurt many times with his insensitive remarks. I can't do it anymore. Everyone abandons me...eventually, it's just a matter of time.<br />
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Tyla<br />
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http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-47375039444902987682012-11-02T12:33:00.002-04:002012-11-02T12:33:54.118-04:00What Sexual Abuse Really Is<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A mind torture chamber. <br />
Years loss because of overwhelming shame.<br />
Day after day of guilt ridden feelings.<br />
Struggles of endless confusion.<br />
Grieving a life that could've been.<br />
Stolen true personalities.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVwrwLuvj3p1WKadXEbD4KfimrqNb2yOYJTjwzdU5Q4aG_hg22brA1-YjVCIBOPxZe-zUy_WZbFYyX9KPKjQJzTWhoK4-jEet67V8tWzt4F6Ooz4PIIz_7jC61gikxsg_6tpNav406HnJ/s1600/untitled.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" qea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVwrwLuvj3p1WKadXEbD4KfimrqNb2yOYJTjwzdU5Q4aG_hg22brA1-YjVCIBOPxZe-zUy_WZbFYyX9KPKjQJzTWhoK4-jEet67V8tWzt4F6Ooz4PIIz_7jC61gikxsg_6tpNav406HnJ/s1600/untitled.bmp" /></a><br />
Loss and never finding you.<br />
Questioning, who are you?<br />
Destroyed trust, loyalty.<br />
Forever issues with relationships.<br />
Tears of pain and worthlessness.<br />
Encompassing depression.<br />
Faking smiles and laughter.<br />
Forcing normalcy.<br />
Hurting physically with the burden.<br />
Secrets owning us, dark and disgusting.<br />
Afraid of crowds, being alone.<br />
Paranoid tendenies.<br />
Lack of filters.<br />
Guarded boundaries.<br />
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Non-believers crushing the soul.</div>
Abandoned by loved ones.<br />
Always drowning in flashbacks.<br />
Triggers sinking in without warning.<br />
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Unsettled memories covered in Bandaids.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjyo7QituFYZb84faLpuJRkzDDfUJnMEDX-7mb9zqQsl5dkxw1YBpyN6KVUyEQop5_wxGDPYOBpzu3BQBoRD-x-X6jjEXF4Bo6OMod70cY8j3Kyg1po0V9-Hy0olMUfKgBkyYtlKMWNe_/s1600/imagesCAMSL4SS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" qea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjyo7QituFYZb84faLpuJRkzDDfUJnMEDX-7mb9zqQsl5dkxw1YBpyN6KVUyEQop5_wxGDPYOBpzu3BQBoRD-x-X6jjEXF4Bo6OMod70cY8j3Kyg1po0V9-Hy0olMUfKgBkyYtlKMWNe_/s320/imagesCAMSL4SS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Violation and interruption of childhood.</div>
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Never knowing what, who supposed to be.</div>
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Changes the path the first moment of trespass.</div>
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Craters of loneliness linger.</div>
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Definitions of love entangled with caution.</div>
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Supporters near, very distant.</div>
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Details unnecessary to give weight.</div>
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Broken dreams, fantasies became.</div>
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Years of therapy, or not.</div>
Talk to heal.<br />
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Who will listen?</div>
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Lean on who, no one's there.</div>
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Haunted by every corner.</div>
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Crushed under years of shame.</div>
Generalization to spare those unharmed.<br />
Graphic discretion sparing self.<br />
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No more less true.</div>
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Head in the sand.</div>
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I never knew.</div>
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Doesn't make it less true.</div>
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Forgetting, impossible task.</div>
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Forgiveness, not in the path.</div>
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Tell that someone, may regret.</div>
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Worse off than before.</div>
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Damage is done.</div>
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Do overs, there are none.</div>
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Freedom, may never come.</div>
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Protection, unsurpassed, child thy own.</div>
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Neutral, never in.</div>
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Really, what IT is.<br />
Is you.<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
Tyla</div>
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http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-68971637741548736252012-10-29T20:29:00.001-04:002012-10-29T20:38:43.667-04:00Amanda Todd - The Peace and Escape - A Devastating End <iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/vOHXGNx-E7E?fs=1" width="480"></iframe><br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOHXGNx-E7E" target="_blank">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOHXGNx-E7E</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I truly am so sorry, Amanda. I did not know you, but I did. I am you, with a different face. I am you, 38 years later. Nothing has changed. Nothing has improved. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I look back and I really can't understand how I never took my own life. Going to school was so painful everyday. No bully could hide behind Facebook, Twitter, MySpace or their texting. The bullies were right in my face every day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I can remember in kindergarten being isolated and treated bad. The bulling just got worse every year of public school. I never did anything mean to anyone. I was not ugly, or fat, or terribly poor. I did not smell or wear dirty clothes. I was not super smart, not rich and not gorgeous. I was just normal and average. It doesn't matter though how normal you think you are, or plain, or not deserving of such cruelty; bullies always find something to pick on you about. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Bullying is all about power and control. Like most horrible events in life: childhood sexual abuse, incest, domestic violence, workplace harassment, gang violence, religious and political corruption all are the result of abuse of power by people in positions of authority and forcing their unwanted control over you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Although my days at school were frightening and all I wanted to do was cry and escape, I managed to get good marks and pass grades one through eight. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was always picked last and always left out of groups. I so dreaded any school work where you had to work in a group and when the teacher left you to find your own group. Why do teachers do this? All group work should be set by the teacher. Just do the 1, 2, 3, 4 thing, all the two's together, all the three's etc. It was so hurtful being singled out when I was left with no one and then the teacher would just stick me somewhere where I obviously was not wanted. One of the best lessons in life is learning to work with people other than your friends. Grownup 101 at the office. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was so thankful that I was a walker for most of my elementary school years. I was able to run home at lunch to have some reprieve with The Flintstones for thirty minutes. Some months I did have to ride the school bus at different ages and it was awful having no one save you a seat. Kids saying you can't sit here. One time I was stabbed by a boy with a pencil on the mini bus. I remember his name K.P. I don't remember why he did it or what he was saying to me. I still have the grey mark in my hip where the lead broke through my skin today.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In the mornings I remember in like grade four or five we would have to do these morning warm up exercises. All the kids would find a spot in the classroom and the teacher would put on some music. I remember a boy, D.B. calling me a slut during these exercises. I never even had a boyfriend in elementary school, until I moved away for grade eight.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I grew up in a very small town, pop. less than 900. We had a corner store, a post office, a train station, a I.G.A., a tavern, a bank, a couple churches, and a Chinese restaurant. There was no hospital, no high school and no mall.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The girls at school were worse than any boy that stabbed me with a pencil, once. There was a lead bully, she was chubby, freckle faced and not pretty, quite big for a grade six. Her parents were well-off and she made sure everyone knew it. The other girls were her posse. I think they were all so scared of her that they were her little, obedient droids. I can remember them all by name. C.K., S.F., T.G., S.G., And N.C. I cried to my mother, and told her I was sick, I heated thermometers in hot tea to have a fever, I begged to stay home. I told my mother I was picked on daily. She did nothing. Never did she call the principal. Never did she go to the school. My mother never went to parent/teacher interviews. Nor did she ever contact any of these girls' mothers to confront them with their daughter's bullying of me. She enabled me, by letting me stay home, but I could do this for only so many days, and the inevitable would return, the name calling, the belittling, the put downs, the being made fun of.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One time the lead bully, C.K. had gathered all the girls she controlled and when the end of school bell rang and I was walking out the gates on the road of the school grounds they all charged me. A grade eight girl, grabbed me and was punching me and pushing me, they were all yelling and cheering her on. I had done nothing to provoke this. It was all just for kicks. I ran away as fast as I could, crying.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Once a new girl had come to our class. I thought here's my chance to have a friend. She was very nice to me. We hung around together a recess. I was so happy. The bullies were leaving us alone. This went on for weeks. Then one recess, the lead bully with all her girls circled behind her came up to me and N.C. I was sitting on a small, plywood box by the side doors of the school, and I saw N.C. move over to the bullies. Then C.K. laughs and says, you think N.C. is your friend? She's not your friend. She's our spy. She's pretended to be your friend. I was devastated. I don't remember talking about any of them behind their backs anyway, but the entire humiliation just squashed me like a bug.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I felt worthless as a young girl. I liked learning, but I hated school. No teachers ever did anything. My mother never defended me, never protected me from bullies or sexual abusers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A childhood without friends is very difficult. I never was invited to parties, or to sleepovers. I was alone. I had no one to talk to. I don't think the Kid's Help Line was around in 1977-1981. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I think about finding my bullies on Facebook and telling them how they ruined my school years, but what for? I can't go back and have a do over of my pre and tweener years. What I have done is make sure that my own child doesn't suffer at the hands or words of any bully. I am his advocate. I am his protector. I will never standby and allow anyone to hurt my child. I have taught my own child to not be a part of any mean and cruel actions. To never be a bystander. To help those who cannot help themselves. He knows how disappointed and ashamed I would be of him if he were the one being hurtful to someone else.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I don't know how I survived. No one ever told me these problems are temporary. You'll grow up and these people won't be in your life. The day to day pain was to much to bear for Amanda. There was no more crack of light through the trees for her to hold on to. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Every young person who takes their own life because of bullying has been failed by the system: schooling and government. This is unacceptable. It doesn't matter how many frigging legislative laws you put in place, if no one enforces them they're worthless. There is no zero tolerance. All I see is out right tolerance. </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/british-columbia/amanda-todds-suicide-prompts-father-of-bc-boy-to-speak-out/article4633468/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/british-columbia/amanda-todds-suicide-prompts-father-of-bc-boy-to-speak-out/article4633468/</span></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.pgfreepress.com/news/174993521.html"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">http://www.pgfreepress.com/news/174993521.html</span></a><br />
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<a href="http://regina.ctvnews.ca/mourners-gather-to-remember-bullied-girl-in-estevan-1.632435"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">http://regina.ctvnews.ca/mourners-gather-to-remember-bullied-girl-in-estevan-1.632435</span></a><br />
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<a href="http://news.nationalpost.com/2011/11/30/i-have-a-hard-time-leaving-this-world-teen-writes-in-suicide-letter-after-years-of-bullying/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">http://news.nationalpost.com/2011/11/30/i-have-a-hard-time-leaving-this-world-teen-writes-in-suicide-letter-after-years-of-bullying/</span></a><br />
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<a href="http://healthblog.ctv.ca/post/Talk-to-your-kids-Done28099t-shy-away-from-the-topic-of-depression-and-suicide.aspx"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">http://healthblog.ctv.ca/post/Talk-to-your-kids-Done28099t-shy-away-from-the-topic-of-depression-and-suicide.aspx</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Every time a youth takes their life, they have been failed by all entities that influenced their lives: parents, authorities, teachers, health care, family, friends, government--even music, movies, television, magazines and the Internet. That one person in your life that truly cares about you needs to teach you about the tough shit in life and how to cope with it. This person needs to educate this young, vulnerable person. We need to arm our kids with knowledge, strength and integrity. Children need to know that one person will, WILL, stand behind them always. I didn't have this one person, but I think my alter ego was her, that warrior of me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In the end though, we all have a choice. I was a twelve year old girl once for 365 days, and I chose to continue the crappy life. I wasn't telling myself this is only temporary and suicide is a permanent solution. I didn't know that. What I knew was fishing, swimming, Christmas, candy, Barbies, Archie comics, T.V. and potato chips were worth living for. What I knew was I didn't have to go to school on weekends. This is how I coped. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Tyla</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-25738060808489225782012-10-11T13:03:00.000-04:002012-10-29T20:54:59.519-04:00Cool Cakes for Youth and Past Connections<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">These are all cakes that I created for my son on his birthdays. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It's odd how with all the anger I hold for my mother, I am still thankful for the memories of all the cakes she put so much time into decorating for my birthday when I was little. I never was left with the feeling though that my mother put her heart and soul into decorating a cake for me, but it was an excuse for her to have something to do with her time and to show-off how well she could do cake decorating. Now that I think of it, I only remember when she made me a huge diamond cake for my eleventh birthday. It said 'you are a real gem' on it and had two large number ones for eleven. Around that same time, is when she caught my brother violating me in the bottom bunk bed in my room. I still remember exactly what she said to me--<em>"take a shower"</em>, and that was all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I was eleven when the sexual abuse stopped. My brother tried once more after our mother interrupted him, and I told him he couldn't do that to me anymore.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Not to spoil the great cakes I have poured my heart into for my child, but it's funny, well not funny, how there is a connection to the past.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The difference for me is I bake and decorate these special cakes not for my own pleasure, but for the pleasure I get from seeing the smile they put on my amazing son's face. He is always so surprised, and I do think he admires my creativity, and the fact that I pay attention to what he is in to any given year. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I love him dearly, and protect him every day with full awareness to all his surroundings and the people that may be in his surroundings. I will never be blind to any pain my child may endure. I will always be here to keep harm from him, to give him every means of emotional love and comfort.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mask of Light - Lego</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTtduKUWgFYBzouHjzqgxTIrg2xIj4gBOSaI0XtlFcDgu84LEp3iYSvhKzSonXLD6g2drQgeUCLqjN3K7CPECvNDsUDap9N348Kb7v-7LKy7Ff0cHjEclEfnuuv0BWv7tD-3UA8b362-Ev/s1600/DSC00884.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTtduKUWgFYBzouHjzqgxTIrg2xIj4gBOSaI0XtlFcDgu84LEp3iYSvhKzSonXLD6g2drQgeUCLqjN3K7CPECvNDsUDap9N348Kb7v-7LKy7Ff0cHjEclEfnuuv0BWv7tD-3UA8b362-Ev/s320/DSC00884.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwllY65wX3YQwRejr-vV6y-FqY5yaRbc8-r3IWc07SQOYbyBSllhxa2b709mR-eoulrBEcpItGb2jVmmRjuXkd2HMoWyHaDBPlnW50kqzEIwxDpbCxD730G_JyZI-2U1owmkMOqL-ZPmaz/s1600/DSC00885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwllY65wX3YQwRejr-vV6y-FqY5yaRbc8-r3IWc07SQOYbyBSllhxa2b709mR-eoulrBEcpItGb2jVmmRjuXkd2HMoWyHaDBPlnW50kqzEIwxDpbCxD730G_JyZI-2U1owmkMOqL-ZPmaz/s320/DSC00885.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fire breathing Dragon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLAbRTXx_cyFyx2_9FnsceF1_4EHiiR9fQ5-CKxG4aThOf5jDfPW6HzfwdmOFZujiliOwRD6T_PV1kzNe-soKwTB-RJxTlNFJZzzZAtYx4RngKLV4mNSx4UXIvpncH4Bsl6Y0gsZd_vDU/s1600/Ottawa,+Mikisew,+Kyles+12+cake+095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLAbRTXx_cyFyx2_9FnsceF1_4EHiiR9fQ5-CKxG4aThOf5jDfPW6HzfwdmOFZujiliOwRD6T_PV1kzNe-soKwTB-RJxTlNFJZzzZAtYx4RngKLV4mNSx4UXIvpncH4Bsl6Y0gsZd_vDU/s320/Ottawa,+Mikisew,+Kyles+12+cake+095.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MW3 Xbox Controller</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Other cakes I've done: teddy bear, Bob the Builder Tool, Hulk, Jolly Roger flag, 5 foot Snake, and a Bakugan. I'll have to find those pics to share.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Happy Birthday Cake emotions!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Tyla</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-7163639647790165262012-10-09T11:21:00.001-04:002012-10-09T11:21:14.012-04:00The Value of a 2nd Opinion - Hope Reignited!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQgEunc9HeK5fuz7AOPFSOsDvoJrzlhsg8mjlhD67_ob8J7pdysN9SIHWa_4y2zoNA1XDKjXOkpAKqPZplAu85uHddgEoVwR1jXissh-Wnf8d1WvA02evs4YjG4AKN3EqHS6VqskUdD-a/s1600/imagesCAZIBYVY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQgEunc9HeK5fuz7AOPFSOsDvoJrzlhsg8mjlhD67_ob8J7pdysN9SIHWa_4y2zoNA1XDKjXOkpAKqPZplAu85uHddgEoVwR1jXissh-Wnf8d1WvA02evs4YjG4AKN3EqHS6VqskUdD-a/s200/imagesCAZIBYVY.jpg" width="132" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">On Thursday, October 4th, 2012, the candle of hope inside of me was shining bright. I arrived to my appointment with the second opinion neurosurgeon at 2:45pm. His office on the second floor, I stepped off the elevator and paused for a moment deciding to visit the restroom, but it was occupied. As I stood outside the elevator waiting for the lavatory, these two elder women were waiting to get on. I observed the one holding the other's elbow to stabilize her on her feet. Figuring she had also just visited the neurosurgeon--I overheard her say, "well, he said at least you're walking". The woman with her said, "so does that mean you don't have to come back again?". In reply, the limping lady said, "I guess, no surgery for me."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My heart sank. Of course, I don't know this person's medical history or issues, but hearing these comments made me more anxious and worried that he would reject me to, and I would live out my remaining decades in pain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I put on the charm upon approaching the receptionist. The way to the road to success is to win over the receptionist/secretary immediately. You know they are the backbone (no pun intended there) of every office, so make nice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I completed the information sheet and provided the typed sheet of all the lease invasive alternatives I have tried over the past 18 months. Too my surprise at a cost of $3500 to date. I think that's a pretty good indication of proof that I have been trying to resolve my pain issues, or manage. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I couldn't sit in the waiting room because it hurts and there were only these lush, big, puffy, sink into and can get out of brown and black leather arm chairs. It was exceptionally hot in the office as well. I think I was the last appointment of the day at 3:30pm. I didn't have to wait long to meet Dr. M. He appeared businesslike, no jacket, red hair and beard, glasses, late forties. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I had a plan this time around to be more assertive, more prepared. I guess when I met with the last surgeon who had done my first back surgery, I assumed she would just fix me again. I provided him with my MRI DVD. His exam room was spacious, clean and had a PC on a small desk. He loaded up the images and said they were good, clear images and he could clearly see the recurrent disc herniation at L5, and a new one at L4. He examined me thoroughly, testing reflexes, stretching, bending, walking and flexing my legs. I have no reflex in my heel and he noted the obvious weakness in my left leg. He asked me why I didn't go to Dr. S. When I said I did, and she said it wasn't surgically correctable, that it was scar tissue fibrosis, Dr. M asked did she look at your MRI?, I replied with not that I witnessed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">When he said to me he'd do the surgery, a lam<a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a><span id="goog_1550513045"></span><span id="goog_1550513046"></span>inectomy/discectomy I burst into tears! I felt validated. The risks are at 1 and 2% for spinal fluid leak, cutting the nerve and infection. I felt my first surgery was a success, and knowing I can wake up with no pain in my leg is worth it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"><a href="http://catalog.nucleusinc.com/generateexhibit.php?ID=9640" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">http://catalog.nucleusinc.com/generateexhibit.php?ID=9640</span></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0nduBT8HtKm2hCb-MIPlcTyAMjRD6qXm2htyT86Y-a7ajrB1X_2nA4jkGt8QKUr9hWzK3SY5S0EsErrBSx3CmU8H1fzrqP8TxI-CLavvmB1meQfDIEcfO1YQTKN4MBrmGVqhBHpP5FQUx/s1600/imagesCAK1Q68N.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0nduBT8HtKm2hCb-MIPlcTyAMjRD6qXm2htyT86Y-a7ajrB1X_2nA4jkGt8QKUr9hWzK3SY5S0EsErrBSx3CmU8H1fzrqP8TxI-CLavvmB1meQfDIEcfO1YQTKN4MBrmGVqhBHpP5FQUx/s1600/imagesCAK1Q68N.jpg" /></a></div>
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For all these months of struggling with pain, gaining weight, being a lesser wife, mother and employee, being judged, being told a positive attitude makes all the difference, so being made to feel like all this pain is in your head, I say fuck you!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz83bU15HHuGR06cOxfraBxQQ26g0VDN_B91Jc2IpZz2sOATSogEyVH4SfUaGPQVhZKVykFUQ1ss6t9rkfq8JM5TPw-wCaqPVPa5YEwFNzwz3V55CBu5tfMv9j7C_Sir9WxASwX5SKRqZV/s1600/imagesCAB39NVE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz83bU15HHuGR06cOxfraBxQQ26g0VDN_B91Jc2IpZz2sOATSogEyVH4SfUaGPQVhZKVykFUQ1ss6t9rkfq8JM5TPw-wCaqPVPa5YEwFNzwz3V55CBu5tfMv9j7C_Sir9WxASwX5SKRqZV/s1600/imagesCAB39NVE.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have enough reality in my life making me feel ashamed, guilty, not worthy and ill. I won't let anyone judge me any longer!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqzXO0TbbCWENrHCoPTLVy2AQExFC_sWeLhqwpAHfSMc2PRLXBh0Z4X-k1HAL2ZczRc5_lNLs4zX_gNDIfx8g62xS-Ss-mo2LWfwh7C3f9meTg-13wJlclRCTEzO7KEvmw7RzGke1Gi3SY/s1600/imagesCAPZPESI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqzXO0TbbCWENrHCoPTLVy2AQExFC_sWeLhqwpAHfSMc2PRLXBh0Z4X-k1HAL2ZczRc5_lNLs4zX_gNDIfx8g62xS-Ss-mo2LWfwh7C3f9meTg-13wJlclRCTEzO7KEvmw7RzGke1Gi3SY/s1600/imagesCAPZPESI.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My next challenge now is to apply for longterm income protection benefits and CPP disability benefits. <span style="background-color: yellow;"><strong> If anyone has any advice, please comment to me.</strong></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We don't have to "live with it"! Seek a second, a third opinion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Tyla</span><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-60523565049878622722012-10-02T11:20:00.001-04:002012-10-02T11:20:48.381-04:00How to Add Pinterest Pin It Button to your Blog<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I'm not sure why there just isn't a gadget already developed that you can just add to your blog without having to add code and jumping through a dozen hoops to make it actually work.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">It took me quite some time to figure this out. Reading through comments trying to find someone with the same issue as me as to why is this not working?!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">So now that I've figured it out, I'm going to make your life so much easier.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Here's really how you do it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGnWPehoZ9Wh_4zO1ig5Rx5gYuwcq8Ndo9seLg9V3zUTsH9lzbhrNe03YWssCuK23nN0bMPWNJuWJd8qqYVPkcNJG3Z4fzPNN7JS1fsbrcNIRfrVJofhdam3UzH4jWgZBcqex15idPFuE/s1600/Pinterest+Pin+It+button+tutorial%5B5%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGnWPehoZ9Wh_4zO1ig5Rx5gYuwcq8Ndo9seLg9V3zUTsH9lzbhrNe03YWssCuK23nN0bMPWNJuWJd8qqYVPkcNJG3Z4fzPNN7JS1fsbrcNIRfrVJofhdam3UzH4jWgZBcqex15idPFuE/s1600/Pinterest+Pin+It+button+tutorial%5B5%5D.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The easiest instructions I found are at these two links.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.julieannart.com/2011/10/how-to-add-pinterest-button-to-all-blog.html">http://www.julieannart.com/2011/10/how-to-add-pinterest-button-to-all-blog.html</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Notes: When she says to do this:</span><br />
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<strong><span style="color: red; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">3. Look for <div class='post-footer'> and paste the code <u>directly after that</u>.</span></strong><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Directly after that means: not under or below; paste it right after the greater than sign > no spaces, so it should look like this ><<br /><br />There are several 'post-footer' words in the html code, so you drop the code that's in the link immediately following the <span style="color: red;"><strong><div class='post-footer'></strong> <span style="color: black;">where you see</span> </span><strong></b:if></strong> just above it. So it looks like this.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> </b:if></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> <div class='post-footer'><span style="background-color: yellow;"><div style='float: right; margin: 4px;'><a href='javascript:void((function(){var%20e=document.createElement(&apos;script&apos;);e.setAttribute(&apos;type&apos;,&apos;text/javascript&apos;);e.setAttribute(&apos;charset&apos;,&apos;UTF-8&apos;);e.setAttribute(&apos;src&apos;,&apos;http://assets.pinterest.com/js/pinmarklet.js?r=&apos;+Math.random()*99999999);document.body.appendChild(e)})());'><img alt='Pin It' class='aligncenter' src='http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v419/green_tea/pin.jpg'/></a></div></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The second thing I had to figure out was once the Pin It button is there, how do you actually Pin it? It may seem simple, but when crucial details are left out of a tutorial you're set up to fail. Again, I had to read through the comments to find someone who was having the same issue as me. I see the Pin It button but when I click it nothing happens. I couldn't pin.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="background-color: white;"><em><span style="background-color: yellow;">Comment question: I noticed this works great, but you have to be in the individual blog post for the button to show up. Is there a way for the button to show on the main blog page?</span></em><br /><br /><em><span style="background-color: yellow;">Comment answer: This hack (button with counter) is suitable only for post pages. You won't see it on homepage as it is designed to only appear on post pages.</span></em><br /><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">You can't Pin it from the homepage of your blog. You have to click the title heading of the actual blog post that you want to Pin, that takes you into that specific post and then you can Pin from there with no problems.</span></span></span></span> <span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">This link solved this for me.</span></span></span><br />
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<br />
<a href="http://www.bloggersentral.com/2012/02/add-pinterest-pin-it-button-on-blogger.html">http://www.bloggersentral.com/2012/02/add-pinterest-pin-it-button-on-blogger.html</a><br />
<u><span style="color: #810081;"><a href="http://pinterest.com/">http://pinterest.com/</a></span></u><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Tyla</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-70143814621473923792012-10-01T12:01:00.002-04:002012-10-01T12:01:29.481-04:00Drift<em>Drift.</em><br />
<em>I don't know if I will ever 'just be'. </em><br />
<em>Everyday feels like a struggle—an exhaustive, up hill, draining, unproductive time. </em><br />
<em>Can I commit to anything? </em><br />
<em>I'm pausing already—typing is even like running a marathon for me. </em><br />
<em>Why do I feel this way? </em><br />
<em>I feel so fake. </em><br />
<em>Who am I? </em><br />
<em>I have no idea. </em><br />
<em>I'm terrible at moving forward. </em><br />
<em>Achieving coping skills that work continuously—when will I be successful? </em><br />
<em>Is this self-pity? </em><br />
<em>Is this depression? </em><br />
<em>Is this my failed physical health? </em><br />
<em>Is it my daily self-loathing? </em><br />
<em>Never worthy. </em><br />
<em>My insides feel decayed. </em><br />
<em>Where am I? </em><br />
<em>Lost in all my pain. </em><br />
<em>Troubled. </em><br />
<em>How do I fix my life!? </em><br />
<em>Alone. </em><br />
<em>An actress is what I am. </em><br />
<em>I hate myself. </em><br />
<em>Things weren't supposed to be this way—turn out this way. </em><br />
<em>Let me drift...</em><br />
<br />
<em>Tyla</em><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-66355109305553904622012-10-01T11:55:00.000-04:002012-10-01T11:55:50.150-04:00Thank you Sarah Henderson<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just stumbled upon this blog called Writing for Recovery. Inspirational. I could use that right now more than ever. I look forward to reading all of her poems and writings and gather strength from her motto, "say the unsayable".</span><br />
<a href="http://writingforrecovery.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">http://writingforrecovery.wordpress.com/</a><br />
<em><br /></em><em>Honorable Woman</em><br />
I am an honorable woman<br />
I live in an authentic way<br />
Honesty suits me well<br />
You can trust that I mean what I say<br />
I am an honorable woman<br />
I know when to walk away<br />
To not take less than I deserve<br />
If it’s not right than I won’t stay<br />
I am an honorable woman<br />
I am loyal to those close to my heart<br />
Love is what gives life its meaning<br />
Even when we are apart<br />
I am an honorable woman<br />
I hold myself in respect<br />
I treat others how I wish to be treated<br />
I never abuse or neglect<br />
I am an honorable woman<br />
I’m accountable for my actions<br />
I’m responsible for my part<br />
Of my personal interactions<br />
I am an honorable woman<br />
I stand up for what I believe<br />
I want to change the world<br />
And I don’t think that is naive<br />
I am an honorable woman<br />
I have faith that things will work out<br />
I believe that God’s on my side<br />
Even when I am in doubt<br />
I am an honorable woman<br />
I work as hard as I can<br />
To maintain the standards I hold<br />
I will not be controlled by a man</div>
I am an honorable woman<br />
I have a powerful voice<br />
I use it without holding back<br />
To proclaim my freedom of choice<br />
I am an honorable woman<br />
My love is both tender and fierce<br />
I will love through pain and desire<br />
I will love through laughter and tears<br />
I am an honorable woman<br />
Who continues to learn and to grow<br />
I am an honorable woman<br />
And should be regarded as so<br />
© Sarah Henderson 2010<div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-20846779798765164752012-10-01T11:53:00.001-04:002012-10-01T12:02:00.347-04:00Pre-Second Opinion Appointment with NeurosurgeonI'm feeling rather nervous. It's been near 18 months now that I've been with a left, numb leg, an absent front, foot push-off, no reflex and living in chronic back pain daily.<br />
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I am reaching for strength and hope that my fate will be of a good nature when I meet with another neurosurgeon on October 4, 2012. I've never in my life had to seek a second opinion. It feels stressful and coated in a thick paste of the unknown.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDtlLALWjzgUZPqn4bwQ7ZOXHGu_1mSsfco9XDJEC7guE8lZzMzp1DGCQaer6B-9SfwXN004STG4GwMBbjs6tNUyLHM-RMNQ_OWczcVvtU2S0upZjtdOe8ZUNm3202Wqde6gzNjq0KyZU/s1600/imagesCAAB9R7X.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" kea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDtlLALWjzgUZPqn4bwQ7ZOXHGu_1mSsfco9XDJEC7guE8lZzMzp1DGCQaer6B-9SfwXN004STG4GwMBbjs6tNUyLHM-RMNQ_OWczcVvtU2S0upZjtdOe8ZUNm3202Wqde6gzNjq0KyZU/s200/imagesCAAB9R7X.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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My first appointment in August of 2011, with the surgeon that did my first back surgery, a discectomy/laminectomy back in July of 2009, dismissed me in five minutes, stating to me that there was nothing she could do surgically. Even after I told her I'm dosed with pain medications, attending physiotherapy, massage therapy, and chiropractor; tried ultrasound, shockwave, heat, acupuncture, and yoga; purchased <span style="background-color: white;">orthotics,</span> a stability belt, ergonomic chair, therapy ball chair, and lumbar chair supports. As well, I had no sexual function for seven months after my near fall in April of 2011. </div>
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She read the MRI report briefly, examined me briefly, and said it's fibrosis, which is scar tissue; here try neural flossing with your physiotherapist and here's a recommendation to your family doctor to refer you to a pain management specialist for epidural nerve block injections.<br />
<br />
Needless-to-say, I was devastated leaving her office in tears. Where do you go from there when you're in pain everyday? I disagree entirely that my issue is scar tissue because I was 20 months post-operation and was doing great until the near fall in April 2011. Scar tissue forms in the first six to 12 weeks following surgery. I had no issues until I jolted my back that Friday right before Easter long weekend, which put me in bed for seven days. My CT scan clearly showed a recurrent disc herniation and inflammation. I had no numbness, tingling, sharp pains in my leg and foot until that jolt. I was a surgery success story. I continued on pain meds and the various coping treatments including the neural flossing, which had no fix results whatsoever.<br />
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In May of 2012, after far too much sitting in my office chair hunched over the keyboard (computer job-life is going to be the death of me), I just couldn't take the pain anymore. The inflammation was at its worst. I felt like I'd been in a car accident and was pushing old-age. I would come home from the office to put my housecoat on and retreat to my heating pad in my bed when it was only 4:30 pm. I had nothing left for my family. I hadn't cooked in nearly nine months. I had told myself that when the one year mark approached, April 2012, I would either accept this life or do something about it. Well, at 42 years old, I couldn't bend over and stay like this. Pain, pain every day! Not able to work! Not even able to walk with a proper gait, having gainned near 20 pounds of fat! No, I am not going to stay like this ! WTF! <br />
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So, as the second opinion day approaches I'm not sure how to prepare. I will be much more assertive this time around, tearing down whatever roadblocks may breach my goal. Yes, I know my place. I'm at the mercy of this surgeon. </div>
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My feelings haven't been all warm and fuzzy about him either. For starters, my family doctor made the referral in February of 2012, via fax. Four months went by with no response. The fax was faxed again in May. I finally received a phone call from the surgeon's secretary in July. My appointment was set for September 12, 2012. I asked her if written correspondence would be sent by mail confirming the appointment. Snarly, she said, "no, you'll have to write it down." Obviously, I was writing it down, but it did seem unprofessional that proof of the appointment wouldn't be provided. I would have liked to provide that to my employer since I was off work due to my back, and it would be helpful to substantiate that I was pursuing trying to get some relief. </div>
<br />
Disappointingly, I was notified on September 8th, that the surgeon was going to be away for two-weeks and my appointment was rescheduled to October 4, 2012. This was left on my answering machine with no written correspondence. Thankfully, no one in the household erased or forgot to tell me about this message. In the least, I was not too happy, but again there's nothing you can do. You don't want to piss off a surgeon that you've been waiting to see for nine months. Well, again on Friday, September 28th, I got a phone call notifying me that my appointment was now reschedule from 11:30 am to 3:30 pm, the same day. My heart sank as I was anticipating another date change! I was thankful, once again, that it was only the time. I called the surgeon's office confirming that I would be there. So, I kind of already don't care for this surgeon or his staff. People are in pain and waiting for you to make them feel better. And what's with always notifying people on a Friday?! I'll talk about this business of 'Friday notifications' in anther post. <br />
<br />
I opted not to try the epidural nerve block injections for several reasons. Firstly, in my city there is only one pain management clinic and it is run by one anastegeologist, who I have heard from several different and reliable sources to not let him touch me. Also, from my research, these types of injections are very shortlived for pain relief, if it works for you, and injections into the spine can cause more scar tissue. I didn't even get an epidural when I was in labour with my son.<br />
<br />
I will bring with me all DVD MRI and CT scans, and medical reports to support my reasons for wanting surgery. <strong>Needing</strong>. Needing surgery. I believe, I have made every effort and exhausted all alternative pain relief resources and methods.<br />
<br />
I'm presently, also on a waiting list to work with an occupational therapist, but we have none locally in private practice, so I'm waiting to see one at our local hospital and the waiting list goes by triage. I've been waiting since July 2012.<br />
<br />
Please help me dear second opinion surgeon. I am not able to work because sitting kills me. I don't want to live like this. The pain makes me want to just reach for sleep because when you sleep you feel no pain, same with when you are dead, but I don't want to die.<br />
<br />
Tyla<div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-73462408469135302032012-09-10T15:23:00.001-04:002012-09-10T15:33:58.489-04:00The Day After The Big Tell<h3 class="r g0"><span style="padding-bottom: 14px; padding-right: 15px;">la·ment</span><span style="font: smaller 'Doulos SIL', 'Gentum', 'TITUS Cyberbit Basic', 'Junicode', 'Aborigonal Serif', 'Arial Unicode MS', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'Chrysanthi Unicode'; padding-bottom: 7px;">/ləˈment/</span> <div id="sound_flash" style="display: block; height: 0px; position: absolute; width: 0px;"></div><span class="speaker-icon-listen-off" id="speaker_icon" style="margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.7em;"></span></h3><div class="s"><table class="ts"><tbody>
<tr><td style="color: #666666; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="80">Noun:</td><td style="padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top"><table class="ts"><tbody>
<tr><td>A passionate expression of grief.</td></tr>
</tbody></table></td></tr>
<tr bgcolor="#ddd" height="1"><td colspan="2" height="1"></td> </tr>
<tr><td style="color: #666666; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="80">Verb:</td><td style="padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top"><table class="ts"><tbody>
<tr><td>Mourn (a person's loss or death).</td></tr>
</tbody></table></td></tr>
<tr bgcolor="#ddd" height="1"><td colspan="2" height="1"></td> </tr>
<tr><td style="color: #666666; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top" width="80">Synonyms:</td><td style="padding-bottom: 5px; padding-top: 5px;" valign="top"><div><span style="color: #666666;"><i>noun</i>. </span>lamentation - wail - plaint - mourning - moan - elegy</div><div><span style="color: #666666;"><i>verb</i>. </span>mourn - wail - moan - bewail - bemoan - weep - deplore</div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="gl"><span style="padding-right: 17px;"><a class="fl" href="https://www.google.ca/search?hl=en&biw=1024&bih=451&q=lament&tbs=dfn:1&tbo=u&sa=X&ei=DP1NUL3AMKWa0QG6zYDoAg&ved=0CB0QkQ4"><span style="color: #1122cc;">More info »</span></a></span><a href="https://www.google.ca/url?q=lament&url=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lament%3Foldid%3D0&rct=j&sa=X&ei=DP1NUL3AMKWa0QG6zYDoAg&ved=0CB4Qkg4oAA&usg=AFQjCNEsIOxxIzXMaOZ3C_FEqlrcj__CPQ"><span style="color: #1122cc;">Wikipedia</span></a> - <a href="https://www.google.ca/url?q=lament&url=http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/lament&rct=j&sa=X&ei=DP1NUL3AMKWa0QG6zYDoAg&ved=0CB8Qkg4oAQ&usg=AFQjCNGGQNsjx3Tfmzdz_4mrvoW_nJXTqg"><span style="color: #1122cc;">Dictionary.com</span></a> - <a href="https://www.google.ca/url?q=lament&url=http://www.answers.com/topic/lament&rct=j&sa=X&ei=DP1NUL3AMKWa0QG6zYDoAg&ved=0CCAQkg4oAg&usg=AFQjCNFFhhfGZq-PKTttQD5LUykC3J6qrA"><span style="color: #1122cc;">Answers.com</span></a> - <span style="color: #1122cc;"><a href="https://www.google.ca/url?q=lament&url=http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/lament&rct=j&sa=X&ei=DP1NUL3AMKWa0QG6zYDoAg&ved=0CCEQkg4oAw&usg=AFQjCNHAujC4HWIVz5osWrQcuyHIG7b5cQ">Merriam-Webster</a></span><br />
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</div><div class="gl"></div><div class="gl"></div><div class="gl"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaQoaRFPwUMa8nfdmfRM5wFDysVBwmRRkeu7JwcYlfvEkLlTLgVnRBmtGa5IIEnnU4VbMe2Frh2j_mM69kElI2qMiTZ8Zn_yELMRF7ynJWKukoxr7T8WtPWWzj8g8Wl1wjA4X3fbWG7EvO/s1600/dice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaQoaRFPwUMa8nfdmfRM5wFDysVBwmRRkeu7JwcYlfvEkLlTLgVnRBmtGa5IIEnnU4VbMe2Frh2j_mM69kElI2qMiTZ8Zn_yELMRF7ynJWKukoxr7T8WtPWWzj8g8Wl1wjA4X3fbWG7EvO/s1600/dice.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">This is how I feel today. I thought I would feel a sense of 'free', but no, I do not. If I think this through, which I didn't, I wasn't thinking at all when I blurted out "I was a victim of sexual abuse for five years by my brother!" "Yes, my first sexual experiences were with my brother through incest!" I wasn't prepared for my husband's reaction whatsoever. </span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf07ZumZ3LpcV0gXhkONn92ea6sq0c3I8qyL9svbTDboB5a4vUD2e_Lndj0xDYbLHrkLZI7g6-yKPtX6hyphenhyphenwX331_ISNxxg32bo-5o6ygZp3g8at4ErOPQGsr3HwSSStLwwt_TZkhkgcvuM/s1600/Eat_Heart-306x460.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf07ZumZ3LpcV0gXhkONn92ea6sq0c3I8qyL9svbTDboB5a4vUD2e_Lndj0xDYbLHrkLZI7g6-yKPtX6hyphenhyphenwX331_ISNxxg32bo-5o6ygZp3g8at4ErOPQGsr3HwSSStLwwt_TZkhkgcvuM/s320/Eat_Heart-306x460.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Advice to all survivors; no victims-- I really want to say victims because that's the reality; I was a victim, at the time. I still feel like a victim, but I know I've survived for the most part. Yes, emotionally I am still terribly bruised and yes, still feel physical affects as well, like headaches, nauseous and fatigue. Back to my advice, one should contemplate in their mind what the other person's reaction may be, so that you have a plan of how to respond, react and deal with this event of "the big tell". </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrqBM1Kp6nmYRIQ9HPziwCd0ur4hcswsRFIoEkldT3QwLIopD__IpyyZ6VP3onxwy9cYrsqPbfz9BRu6p3qZjqN1tp9wgBslHtP5Tgp19GVtkppZJVms4B62mf7evf9Grwpkr5ZM4vTdBt/s1600/imagesCA7S0G6Y.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrqBM1Kp6nmYRIQ9HPziwCd0ur4hcswsRFIoEkldT3QwLIopD__IpyyZ6VP3onxwy9cYrsqPbfz9BRu6p3qZjqN1tp9wgBslHtP5Tgp19GVtkppZJVms4B62mf7evf9Grwpkr5ZM4vTdBt/s1600/imagesCA7S0G6Y.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXd98LnPKmmM11HFo8EM9eXVSrFCwWsUis9ocI64gNkUArnKeDCfu6y8NPlOsnOjFTfIb8tRm4TjOeMunYKQdd7bxRZNVVMgNcKssy8UoS-D2_v7BOrNEm9H_siTP_1CGeYzioZxc1VT4/s1600/imagesCATX3V6R.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqXd98LnPKmmM11HFo8EM9eXVSrFCwWsUis9ocI64gNkUArnKeDCfu6y8NPlOsnOjFTfIb8tRm4TjOeMunYKQdd7bxRZNVVMgNcKssy8UoS-D2_v7BOrNEm9H_siTP_1CGeYzioZxc1VT4/s1600/imagesCATX3V6R.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrjkSN-GzbS6bYQZSN9xz5iS7SVlZ6zr9MRqMcJ8IQpA2tuAhzh7CvY3A7RFfiPbs5hHzZc0J85r9gBQQtkA1xIsh3Partg7sz0keOMJgOrIUpZQzRpT4MqlvG7DjAFSigMaKUyufFAa5/s1600/bud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLrjkSN-GzbS6bYQZSN9xz5iS7SVlZ6zr9MRqMcJ8IQpA2tuAhzh7CvY3A7RFfiPbs5hHzZc0J85r9gBQQtkA1xIsh3Partg7sz0keOMJgOrIUpZQzRpT4MqlvG7DjAFSigMaKUyufFAa5/s1600/bud.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQMFWCZ5Cz_nGY8PVQOEyL11HmazbcmQjGL3C6koL5nF1kSHvOdra3X6TSI2tFE68nQhtxzvNNbmC5Lahc54ej7ykPsHlg7gu9AsMDjsjiIfvGUSceTWSYgllV8LSTMy2zVN21tQzY-iY/s1600/crash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimQMFWCZ5Cz_nGY8PVQOEyL11HmazbcmQjGL3C6koL5nF1kSHvOdra3X6TSI2tFE68nQhtxzvNNbmC5Lahc54ej7ykPsHlg7gu9AsMDjsjiIfvGUSceTWSYgllV8LSTMy2zVN21tQzY-iY/s1600/crash.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">We all have a "big tell", no matter the secret; that one person who we just couldn't/can't/won't, would rather die tell. Whether it is mother, father, clergy, doctor, best friend, partner, spouse, co-worker, therapist, we all have difficulty with one certain person, the most. For me it took over 20 years to tell my husband, which I just did <b><span style="color: red;">yesterday</span></b> during a heated discussion about our relationship or lack of it. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman','serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">So, I'm here today, alone at home (sigh), a day I had a list of things I was going to attempt to achieve and I find myself back in bed on my heating pad on the net. Yes, I got up ambitiously, got dressed, even made a Buttermilk, Blueberry Breakfast Cake (Pintrest!) <a href="http://www.alexandracooks.com/2011/06/29/buttermilk-blueberry-breakfast-cake/comment-page-18/#comment-86247" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">http://www.alexandracooks.com/2011/06/29/buttermilk-blueberry-breakfast-cake/comment-page-18/#comment-86247</span></a>, for my son before he caught the school bus school. Yeah, for super Mom, retch, I'm so fake, as I waste the day away...guilt, guilt.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Funny, how my mind's closet can have its compass go in all directions during such a major, serious post! I'm experiencing a type of 'letdown' it seems. To hold a demon vaulted inside of you for 20 years and finally I expose this "disgusting, shameful, what will he think of me now", confession results in leaving me feeling cheated of relief. Why? One for the therapist there. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Can anyone relate? Please share with me your experience because I'm so confused.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4p52H2_kT6aD8vuEWRCch9dEPdegF0m4J2udCbK0Z09Bw6o-Hz5P0GZwDSDcT4kat8MbAt_okaGksAbfGKhbsDjKtzWIhPEXDXEQRcknbq97weq-mx1HBqUjOGqxP2uqgDY7t35QuLcq/s1600/help+needed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit4p52H2_kT6aD8vuEWRCch9dEPdegF0m4J2udCbK0Z09Bw6o-Hz5P0GZwDSDcT4kat8MbAt_okaGksAbfGKhbsDjKtzWIhPEXDXEQRcknbq97weq-mx1HBqUjOGqxP2uqgDY7t35QuLcq/s1600/help+needed.jpg" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Yes, I'm now just over one year into my psychotherapy, which obviously has helped me, but I have a ways to go yet. I cold-turkeyed(sic) my anti-depressants over a month ago now. I could tell she, my T, was very concerned about that, but I made a choice to 'feel'. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> <span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">I've accepted the day after the big tell and I choose to cleanse my brain today by playing scrabble, which is better than turning to the bottle! (Which I've never done).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">P.S. If you're curious what my husband said to me visit me at</span><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;"><b> </b></span><a href="https://twitter.com/mymindscloset"><span style="color: #351c75;"><b>https://twitter.com/mymindscloset</b></span></a></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman';">Tyla</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0Ontario, Canada51.253775 -85.32321389999998543.665585 -95.72940389999998 58.841964999999995 -74.91702389999999tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-77652086442394797722011-10-26T10:28:00.000-04:002011-10-26T10:28:55.681-04:00Changing Me - Why?Changing. We all are forever changing. Most of us are not even aware of our subtle changes. Some people resist change, some embrace change and some don't give a dam either way. <br />
<br />
I'm not talking about technology, business trends, or food and packaging changes all surrounding our daily lives. I'm talking about us, each of us how we change our thought process often. How things that may happen in our lives cause us to alter our perspectives of things.<br />
<br />
My latest changes that I'm trying to accomplish are:<br />
<ul><li>be a kinder person</li>
<li>be more patient</li>
<li>be less reactive</li>
<li>gossip less</li>
<li>stick to my boundaries</li>
</ul>I feel myself slipping often and then feeling ashamed. I considered myself a good, caring and honest person prior to my summer from hell. So why do I feel strongly that I need to change? I liked me. I'm confused now. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBd3hhzKN5Bv_ZRxcMl2SJKEAdVm9R_7w1IK-jiuhWQjDU69aVW64BPTiLyAqRbG2PWAHnKZAZJ122_ZeOj9GtZvLElTS2F6DMaz8fStNgX6RSok3QJO1yaHK3mTqFysZ87L46LzLxuGoj/s1600/change.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBd3hhzKN5Bv_ZRxcMl2SJKEAdVm9R_7w1IK-jiuhWQjDU69aVW64BPTiLyAqRbG2PWAHnKZAZJ122_ZeOj9GtZvLElTS2F6DMaz8fStNgX6RSok3QJO1yaHK3mTqFysZ87L46LzLxuGoj/s320/change.png" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Personality changes are difficult to make in your forties. Physical changes are so much easier. No one is asking me to change. Not my therapist, not my husband or child or my friends. So called friends. I don't really have any friends. Just one. <br />
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Does it make sense then to want to change yourself when no one is asking you to change?<br />
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Tyla<div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-5487678547372356512011-10-06T15:51:00.002-04:002012-10-11T14:13:50.429-04:00Raw Wounds Part II - 7 Days of Mind Torture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9VKuICtKocf4RSQqHF0l6SKwyQBLrWHQF1gUc6M-v7U4RW8rMfKbnOz2fM1iAPa7CQEHGxGzMBX4_G0fJ3qABRcUi-o42hKyGPqaJuJpHoSNTdpHJ1ZbvUNx_QzWEYPOMWEv4Y8PJSknA/s1600/imagesCAZKPSTB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9VKuICtKocf4RSQqHF0l6SKwyQBLrWHQF1gUc6M-v7U4RW8rMfKbnOz2fM1iAPa7CQEHGxGzMBX4_G0fJ3qABRcUi-o42hKyGPqaJuJpHoSNTdpHJ1ZbvUNx_QzWEYPOMWEv4Y8PJSknA/s1600/imagesCAZKPSTB.jpg" /></a></div>
Today, I received in the snail mail a letter from our local regional hospital. It was inviting me to attend a memorial service for my father and any other patients that died from April to September of 2011. The letter was authored by the hospital reverend.<br />
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My dad didn't want a obituary announcement, a funeral service or anybody preachin' over him. He felt that anybody who cares will already know. He wished to be cremated immediately. My sister who had been living with my father for a near decade shared this with me.<br />
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Sounds pretty straightforward and simple. Absolutely not. You would think so, but no. <br />
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While my dad was in the hospital dying from his stroke my sister had this idea to have a 'Living Wake'. I had never heard of such a thing. She was very excited to plan this event that she kept referring to as a 'party'. It will be good to have aunt so and so come and say goodbye and uncle tom, dick and harry were her motives. When just the evening before she was sharing dad's wishes with me and then this idea - I was surprised and uncomfortable. If I were dying, my breathing laboured, skin as white as snow, non responsive in any way whatsoever, the last thing I would want is practically strangers touching me and seeing me in this condition. My father was an only child. I felt this was a place for immediate family only - his children, grandchildren. A time for us to have privacy and every last moment holding his still warm hand. I chose to not attendant this event.<br />
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My sister was in total control of all aspects when it came to my father's life and death legally, but due to her extensive 30 year weed addiction, I will say that she was totally out of control in mind and body. It was disturbing and concerning to me.<br />
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I returned the following day to the hospital and everyday for those seven days and nights. I endured the engrossed dysfunction of my mother and all my sibling,s except one who could not afford to fly here. Nothing had changed in the 10 years since I had distanced myself from all of them. Day after day my wounds ached and became more raw. My mind was in a tortured standstill. I held my head and didn't say much to anyone over these days. I went to be with my dad who I hadn't seen more than twice in 10 years either. Never was I given the courtesy of just a mere five minutes alone with him. I would have whispered so many private things to him. I was not granted these last moments. I never and my father never did or said anything to hurt me. I prayed that he would leave this world quickly because there was no hope.<br />
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My sister had carriage of his ashes and he wanted to rest at a lake he fished on. No one contacted me after my father died. It's like everything is the same. So I didn't know when the cremains would be dealt with. My therapist gave me homework to find out. I obliged her. I had no intention of going and suffering another moment around all of them again, ever. I just wanted to know that it was done. They did it three months later. I would have like to have a small amount of my dad's cremains so I could have my own private closure, but I am powerless up against all of them.<br />
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Feeling like a victim once again. Unimportant, forgotten and discarded. Treated with no respect. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFGmILsc_g7mnUXPyuPnousQI9nbwEA_sK8Fyi3to0JP2oklbJ7FllUxJ73ySDhYqux53yYANQApDCJpLa4mycs9hEg9gGRiIJVC2apQM-MmIdcj-33KTROIXaGrdfka0HTMC-Ep-ae-P/s1600/imagesCAMTPLHM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFGmILsc_g7mnUXPyuPnousQI9nbwEA_sK8Fyi3to0JP2oklbJ7FllUxJ73ySDhYqux53yYANQApDCJpLa4mycs9hEg9gGRiIJVC2apQM-MmIdcj-33KTROIXaGrdfka0HTMC-Ep-ae-P/s400/imagesCAMTPLHM.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
Even though the hospital is hosting a religious memorial service, I feel this is my opportunity to reflect like a normal person. It's at a hotel and not a church, so my dad would be okay with that. <br />
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I miss him. I have regrets. My missing him started years ago, and now it is permanent.<br />
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Tyla<div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-16981999878809396972011-10-05T09:31:00.000-04:002011-10-05T09:31:27.437-04:00Shoe Therapy - Not an AlternativeShoes, shoes, shoes. I am mourning the loss of wearing a shoe with heel. I'm not being humours here. Genuinely, I am struggling with the loss of options in footwear. <br />
<br />
Most women understand that it is a fact that high heel, narrow toed shoes can cause physical health issues. My particular back pain problems weren't caused by the wearing of high heels, but as a result I can no longer fashion a pretty heel.<br />
<br />
I know it sounds vain. I should be thankful to be walking at all. Think positive. I should be ashamed. Shallow guilt is damaging. I in no way have become an advocate against women elongating and slimming their legs with beautiful ornaments upon their sexy feet. I loved how pretty shoes made me feel. Just like a drink always taste better when sipped from a beautiful glass.<br />
<br />
This article explains the possible effects of high heel wear.<br />
<a href="http://www.ergonomicchair.org/news/21/When-High-Heels-Cause-Holy-Hell-in-Your-Back.html">http://www.ergonomicchair.org/news/21/When-High-Heels-Cause-Holy-Hell-in-Your-Back.html</a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrodYBu_OuH_r38SHz6OwA5Uy-jkvjK7-A3rws7DY-CpOEkTI16fE4QrdaZRj02z8vukAaKD37sXimkufIzXFoBonj3-T868n_PvPUYVtQF35jfyDFl00ZPCh9LsTko3SPD8XH7O3A40lx/s1600/high_heels_post.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrodYBu_OuH_r38SHz6OwA5Uy-jkvjK7-A3rws7DY-CpOEkTI16fE4QrdaZRj02z8vukAaKD37sXimkufIzXFoBonj3-T868n_PvPUYVtQF35jfyDFl00ZPCh9LsTko3SPD8XH7O3A40lx/s640/high_heels_post.jpg" width="377" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVkTuvHX3IcdYlai4C_78QMh_PVTGfi39w3HDtXfPXlwuJfWW-Hkl0bs1oD2pDthFAlVadFOgYa9pAp2COA-ITId5SnCJ7mryF6G-HrH-sLJVFkI84jreFQIjHBL4BTdhOY4dWCMhmZLb/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVkTuvHX3IcdYlai4C_78QMh_PVTGfi39w3HDtXfPXlwuJfWW-Hkl0bs1oD2pDthFAlVadFOgYa9pAp2COA-ITId5SnCJ7mryF6G-HrH-sLJVFkI84jreFQIjHBL4BTdhOY4dWCMhmZLb/s400/1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
A whole set of problems comes with accepting change even when it is footwear. I have a 28 inch inseam, yeah, no joke that's it. Tree trunks. I buy jeans and dress pants in size 8 to 10 and they come with a 32 inch inseam. I don't sew. I shrink them and then would wear 2 to 3 inch heels. My favourite, mini ankle boots. This made my legs look so much longer. So now I've had to find 30 inch inseams. Awful. Wow, look at my tree trunks! Purchased four pairs of ballet flats. They are difficult to walk in. <a href="http://youlookfab.com/2010/03/18/how-to-fit-classic-dress-pants/">http://youlookfab.com/2010/03/18/how-to-fit-classic-dress-pants/</a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhwec7lav4zodyzI9N7g1TijATJS9ilWWQ4TyUUVLxt1nGo_ewpgq6LtQNd1lxrF_dBOYRVGKIfai0gi8tcllJ2sf15ghLcNGpooCXIKWjOb9i0RE-cYH6WccBLpQpgobQhpOV9da09uy/s1600/imagesCATFRJTI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlhwec7lav4zodyzI9N7g1TijATJS9ilWWQ4TyUUVLxt1nGo_ewpgq6LtQNd1lxrF_dBOYRVGKIfai0gi8tcllJ2sf15ghLcNGpooCXIKWjOb9i0RE-cYH6WccBLpQpgobQhpOV9da09uy/s1600/imagesCATFRJTI.jpg" /></a></div>No more sexy. <br />
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<div style="text-align: right;">Cute. Forty-something, and cute...sigh.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqM1cMEuulep5KKsWMe7Shnbg37epB8QblNXktACWoIcS1RUHfeEkIcBvGaEsmrHFvPJsMqQVG2o1GVC2IOXCpxYYJtyUW6UW_o_ZOvQufc509VjkxmI2qTLm6Eh1oEEI4rk9tJadMOru/s1600/red_ballet_flat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="129" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqM1cMEuulep5KKsWMe7Shnbg37epB8QblNXktACWoIcS1RUHfeEkIcBvGaEsmrHFvPJsMqQVG2o1GVC2IOXCpxYYJtyUW6UW_o_ZOvQufc509VjkxmI2qTLm6Eh1oEEI4rk9tJadMOru/s200/red_ballet_flat.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqM1cMEuulep5KKsWMe7Shnbg37epB8QblNXktACWoIcS1RUHfeEkIcBvGaEsmrHFvPJsMqQVG2o1GVC2IOXCpxYYJtyUW6UW_o_ZOvQufc509VjkxmI2qTLm6Eh1oEEI4rk9tJadMOru/s1600/red_ballet_flat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqM1cMEuulep5KKsWMe7Shnbg37epB8QblNXktACWoIcS1RUHfeEkIcBvGaEsmrHFvPJsMqQVG2o1GVC2IOXCpxYYJtyUW6UW_o_ZOvQufc509VjkxmI2qTLm6Eh1oEEI4rk9tJadMOru/s1600/red_ballet_flat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><div style="text-align: left;" unselectable="on"></div></a><div style="text-align: left;" unselectable="on">Some of you will say to me "don't sweat the small stuff", blah. I'd rather worry about this than the horrible 'big stuff'.</div><br />
Tyla<div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-15598513354444412312011-10-01T21:18:00.002-04:002012-10-01T12:04:16.509-04:00Last Year Everything was So Different<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmyg66g0Wo-joUadDjAzXHWM9cnRAXryiX3kav53fC35uzyJ3Qkx4q_G5AUyA2VU8HF-Y_wEf9ZVotwhNSomjDDJYXCTxQNFc8L3Ak-QJfUE5L20RQtQhoHZZfFYyidw1F9Kt3FhbSXea/s1600/morning%252Cchange%252Clife%252Cquotes%252Cquote%252Cdark-9a638b28a42f776a0a4b6d9e2732d273_h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmyg66g0Wo-joUadDjAzXHWM9cnRAXryiX3kav53fC35uzyJ3Qkx4q_G5AUyA2VU8HF-Y_wEf9ZVotwhNSomjDDJYXCTxQNFc8L3Ak-QJfUE5L20RQtQhoHZZfFYyidw1F9Kt3FhbSXea/s640/morning%252Cchange%252Clife%252Cquotes%252Cquote%252Cdark-9a638b28a42f776a0a4b6d9e2732d273_h.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6833455633954506196.post-59630643104026947262011-09-30T15:26:00.004-04:002011-09-30T15:43:26.146-04:00Talk Therapy has No Place in The Workplace<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEIAsnSE3WuH4WEBLrMm5jbpeTRDEE8hLNMfHdSDMNwGAAlaUO0FGLEnb7IGgoZbuV1TP5IMZ8Q2P-Uyq45qFlnNFP6rkhlmkfN6uVZYJtyVIt21aATzTL-_atWlS7mpNp6glZeK9WYc3/s1600/office_gossip-web1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEIAsnSE3WuH4WEBLrMm5jbpeTRDEE8hLNMfHdSDMNwGAAlaUO0FGLEnb7IGgoZbuV1TP5IMZ8Q2P-Uyq45qFlnNFP6rkhlmkfN6uVZYJtyVIt21aATzTL-_atWlS7mpNp6glZeK9WYc3/s320/office_gossip-web1.jpg" width="239" /></a>It's Friday - that special day of the week that everyone (except shift-workers) looks forward to. I suppose retired people don't get too excited either. I've missed that euphoric feeling while being home on short-term sickness since April. I'm going back to work on Monday after five months for 3 hours a day to start. I'm having anxiety about it for sure. If you've never been off work due to injury or illness perhaps you have for maternity or parental leave, for a sabbatical or remember how you felt being off school in the summers and come the night before school's first day you can't sleep because you've been away from it for awhile. Feelings of worry. Will people judge me for being off? Do some thing I am faking so I could have the summer off? We call that Doctor Summer-off in my workplace. Will some ignore or avoid me? Will some pry until my head pops right off? I'm not looking forward to the "How are you?" question over and over. Yes, some people honestly do care, but most just want the gossip. <br />
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Remember since March 2011 my:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZcK1Ecy4PO3ZHam3HNrqFyfvZXJhEaeb4IfCqmK2G-ituVgqm3SmIrFlXnHEBqx98Ma23caddMCB_Ie9vU2gMrG8tBuE3XhcSbf7uTNms8Xpki7xGPFdTOhS1J9Ydcke2PJx8jazl1DXQ/s1600/anxiety-cycle.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZcK1Ecy4PO3ZHam3HNrqFyfvZXJhEaeb4IfCqmK2G-ituVgqm3SmIrFlXnHEBqx98Ma23caddMCB_Ie9vU2gMrG8tBuE3XhcSbf7uTNms8Xpki7xGPFdTOhS1J9Ydcke2PJx8jazl1DXQ/s1600/anxiety-cycle.gif" /></a></div><ul><li>mentor and dear friend died of cancer</li>
<li>husband was diagnosed 4 days later with cancer</li>
<li>back inflames at L5, S1, S2 </li>
<li>mother-in-law suffered a TIA (transient ischemic attack) mini stroke</li>
<li>husband endured 36 radiation treatments </li>
<li>father had a stroke and died 7 days later</li>
<li>dysfunctional family was around me in the hospital for those 7 days</li>
<li>mind's closet was stirred up beyond return - flashbacks started</li>
<li>grief takes over depression sets in</li>
<li>talk therapy begins</li>
<li>meds are Lyrica, Tylenol 3 and Cipralex</li>
<li>mother-in-law breaks her leg now all her children are fighting</li>
<li>appointment with neurosurgeon after 4 months of waiting is "I can't help you"</li>
<li>meds now include Hydromorph Contin</li>
<li>pharmacist overdoses me when a dispensing error occurs - hospitalized</li>
<li>son goes back to school riding the school bus for the first time</li>
<li>spot on the adult sexual abuse counselling waiting list gets another 10 day delay</li>
</ul>I have never had any drama in my life. Then wham all this above happens to me all in just a matter of three months. I know I had a nervous breakdown. Ashamed to admit it because no one would ever in a million years think that I would not be able to handle all of everything. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiYyPoWoCo6GPp5Ygt4aqX56QSSjgZ0vzcWc-6mB_ekhfNc-xd1q6lEEv-BkXy28dyEI9Y8LiiLlPHIrxUjsyrP0v-DNja5RUt0NqLB1O4KztMjz0TxtY0Ojqn5I0_Cg9jFChfUU1ENr4E/s1600/scarlett-red-tub-chair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiYyPoWoCo6GPp5Ygt4aqX56QSSjgZ0vzcWc-6mB_ekhfNc-xd1q6lEEv-BkXy28dyEI9Y8LiiLlPHIrxUjsyrP0v-DNja5RUt0NqLB1O4KztMjz0TxtY0Ojqn5I0_Cg9jFChfUU1ENr4E/s200/scarlett-red-tub-chair.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>My tough exterior, move on attitude, suck it up princess has done me wonders over the past 35 years. Then I arrive at my therapy session and I can finally be myself. It just sucks the life right out of me acting all the time like I am normal and confident. Finally, able to breath when I see my T's face and my small, red tub chair waiting for me. The facial tissue to my left - will I need them today? We shall see. <br />
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My T is the one for me. I don't want our relationship to ever end. She helped me do the intake call to the organization that assists individuals with sexual abuse at that time I was put on the list. I know that once I start those sessions specifically about the CSA that gradually my T will transition out of the picture. I don't want her to let me go. So every time that they don't call or we play telephone tag inside I am pleased. I've been waiting since July and as time goes by I am healing and sealing up the dirty secret back to the back of my mind's closet. I like it there, forgotten. Yes, I lie to myself. I did so well at keeping the thoughts suppressed. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyIonOW1bihekFtltTIG03TPm9sYNa6boCJ01dHD1z6hgAOQmKlzwSCTJuUANG5_uoqZI8kyP2U7DXN-UVwUAupJwXeTH1tq_HjKqrUu6J6seDkaCfUzZNhyphenhyphen6U2hAqBQTv_oRbZLHO-YCG/s1600/imagesCACEOFD5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="73" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyIonOW1bihekFtltTIG03TPm9sYNa6boCJ01dHD1z6hgAOQmKlzwSCTJuUANG5_uoqZI8kyP2U7DXN-UVwUAupJwXeTH1tq_HjKqrUu6J6seDkaCfUzZNhyphenhyphen6U2hAqBQTv_oRbZLHO-YCG/s320/imagesCACEOFD5.jpg" width="320" /></a>Talk therapy what good comes from it? What is the theory or logic behind this method - we need to talk to heal? Why? Why is telling a trained professional, but a stranger at the same time, the dark and sick details of my sexual abuse possibly going to help fix me?<br />
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I have difficulty with the organizations first question "What are your goals?" I have no idea. I know what my goal isn't. <br />
<ul><li>I will never forgive.</li>
<li>I can't change the past.</li>
<li>I won't find strength in my faith.</li>
<li>I will never tell my husband or anyone that knows me.</li>
<li>I know the abuse wasn't my fault.</li>
</ul>What good can come from the gory details?<br />
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My T is a very good listener. I rant, she's making her grocery list in her head. It's a difficult job listening to people and remember each week whose story goes with who. Sometimes I say to her, "I told you that last time". She furrows her brow. I wonder if my life is boring to her or classic or are clients like waiting for the next episode of a TV series that you follow?<br />
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Her style is humanistic, some cognitive behaviour therapy and talk. She doesn't say very much. She's challenged me not much. I've failed all of my homework assignments.<br />
<ol><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMfRyGvkkUFW87n88UBg8HPRJKEahqlPumcdvMsqGnfDvUGTSVp1mMu8012keQxaqrJUQlJ-i_rqAK5PmSbKcT2vCyZSRAKH0n8Z9uRnLLa9t-ar_8MqvV7ho36J0L2XBEahV84kEYL1-/s1600/where-draw-line-how-set-healthy-boundaries-every-anne-katherine-paperback-cover-art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMfRyGvkkUFW87n88UBg8HPRJKEahqlPumcdvMsqGnfDvUGTSVp1mMu8012keQxaqrJUQlJ-i_rqAK5PmSbKcT2vCyZSRAKH0n8Z9uRnLLa9t-ar_8MqvV7ho36J0L2XBEahV84kEYL1-/s200/where-draw-line-how-set-healthy-boundaries-every-anne-katherine-paperback-cover-art.jpg" width="127" /></a>
<li>write a letter to my dad to say good bye</li>
<li>journal my feelings to get them out</li>
<li>write a letter to my mother</li>
<li>write a letter to my brother</li>
<li>plan some fun overnight with just my husband</li>
<li>read <span id="btAsinTitle">Where to Draw the Line: How to Set Healthy Boundaries Every Day </span></li>
</ol>I am blogging so I think I pass number two! Also, I've read the chapters that interested me in number six. My sessions are moving to every two weeks now. <br />
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My goals are:<br />
<ol><li>to be a better mother, wife and grandmother</li>
<li>to be kinder and more patient</li>
<li>to be consistent with my boundaries regarding my time and the people I chose to share it with</li>
<li>to manage my physical pain</li>
<li>to achieve positive behaviours and leave depression far behind me</li>
<li>to have some fun</li>
</ol>If I know one thing for sure, it is that I do not want to practice 'Talk Therapy' in my cubicle life.<br />
<br />
Tyla<div class="blogger-post-footer">What do you think? Comment and subscribe!
http://mymindcloset.blogspot.ca/</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07546777059997542262noreply@blogger.com0