Friday, September 15, 2006

Monday through Friday, she gets up at 6 every morning. She brushes her teeth, drinks half a cup of coffee and puts on her makeup while having her first cigarette. She dresses and sits on the bed to kiss her husband goodbye. She goes to work everyday. She does her job with diligence. Looks appropriate, acts somewhat appropriate except for the occasional tears that she cannot control. She goes to the store during her lunch break when she needs to, and smiles if anyone catches her eye. She is polite to the clerk and holds the door for others coming through it.

She says all the appropriate things throughout her day, answering the phone with what she hopes is a more upbeat voice than she feels. Those are the only conversations she will have the entire day. She smiles at her boss when he comes in the office. She knows he may not come out of his office again, unless he needs her to do something, until he leaves at 5.

She speaks to the neighbors when she gets home from work. Takes care of the animals and cleans a little. She sits in front of the television until it is time to go to bed. She doesn't see it, or even hear it, but she sits there.

She takes her pills so that the dismal thoughts will be silenced long enough for her to sleep until it is time to get up and do it all again, and she wonders if this is her life forever.

She wants very much to be brave enough to make friends, she longs to have friends.

In the darkest of nights, when the world is quiet and dreaming, she wonders if the voices that tell her she gets what she deserves are real. Maybe it is true. Maybe she has been so bad that this is her punishment. A lifetime of feeling like she just doesn’t quite belong. As if there is some secret that everyone knows except her.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Women have hissy-fits.

Women have hissy-fits.

You're talking to the QUEEN of the HISSY-FIT.
We cannot help it. It is in our nature.

Along with other strictly female things:

I do not mind the labor pains. You get a baby afterward. Besides, childbirth tends to take care of that nasty little problem of modesty.

I do not mind the breast-feeding even though the boobs do wind up down around you knees afterwards.

The midnight runs to the drugstore are ok too, at least you get out of the house alone for a few minutes.

PMS...hey, at least we have an excuse to be nasty every month.

Stress incontinence. Well, at least you can still laugh.

But the hissy-fits! No reason, no excuse, no justification.

Just once, in this "man's world", (and for those of you who are younger, don't be fooled, it is still a mans world) I wish I could just have a tantrum the way men do.

But nooooooo, I get mad...I cry. I wait and wait until my last button has found it's way under some balding, tiny brained, tunnel-visioned man's fat little stubby finger then I cry. Not from hurt feelings, don't be fooled.

I'm mad!



Two heartbeats away from 20 to life in an 8 x 10 cell.

The tears find a path to the eyeballs in split second time. All you get then is raccoon eyes. That's why Revlon is such a lucrative business.

Women have hissy-fits...and dirty eyes.

Anybody know where I can buy some stock in Revlon?

Queen of the Hissy Fit

Monday, September 04, 2006

A Pediatric Physicians Impact on a Young Mother

Shinga recently asked readers on her blog,, how a member of the medical community has helped them or their loved one without pulling out a prescription pad.

This is probably not what she had in mind when she asked, but I would like to tell you how my kids’ pediatrician helped me when my first was born.

I was barely 16 when my 1st child was born. I took her religiously to her peds doc on his suggested schedule. Needless to say, I was not in very good shape myself emotionally. Married to an abuser at 15 and no support system since my pregnancy had embarrassed my family so much.

My OB, the first time I went to him with my pregnancy, was not very nice at all. His first comment to me was, "I don't know why you girls this it is okay to get knocked up at this age", and then he made me lay back while he roughly examined me. I felt he was punishing me for my 'loose ways' and if he had only known he would have understood I had already been punished enough.

This same doctor delivered my first baby and that was before epidurals were popular in our area. I had asked for a spinal block and while he was giving it I jumped a little when the needle first stuck me and he slapped my hip and yelled at me to be still. I know it was important to be still, but I didn't mean to jump and looking back, that was so ugly for him to treat a young frightened mother so horribly. That was also before husbands could go in with wives and I was all alone. My husband was made to wait in the labor room. We had no one with us. My mom had asked we not wake her up if I went in the middle of the night. This was, after all, not a grandchild she could be proud of.

My kids’ pediatrician was always so encouraging. So sweet to me. He always brought up issues I worried about and was too embarrassed or ashamed to bring up myself, such as her constant crying (colic?) And how to deal with that without losing my mind. We lived out in a cow pasture, 5 miles from the closest pay phone and no neighbors. I was 15 miles from any relatives, had no car and my husband was gone everyday from 7am until whenever he decided to come home at night after work, so it was just me and my little daughter.

Our doc never failed to tell me I was doing a great job with her. He almost always would have the nurse play these little audio tapes for me and looking back as I grew up over the years (we went to him until my kids were in their late teens and towered over the other little patients) I saw that he didn't have to treat all his moms this way, but he knew I was young and he took the extra time with me.

He didn't know it at the time, but he was the only encouragement I ever had. Ever!

Later, when my youngest was about 10 or so, and I was a good bit more mature and 'grown up', I wrote him a long letter and baked he and his wife a cake and took it to their home. He was not home, but I was able to tell his wife what he had meant to me during those scary, immature years when I was a child with a child.

To this moment, I cry when I think about what it might have been like without him. My babies are now 29 and 24. We grew up together. They have 5 babies between them. My kids are good parents as are their spouses. I am very proud of the way they have turned out in spite of having a child for a mother for part of their lives.

I know it is extremely frustrating for doc to see kids coming in with kids, and I know it must have been for mine too, but he didn't let it show. He did everything he could to encourage me to be the best mom I could be. I thank him for that.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Homeless & Forgotten

Until I can get back on an 'even keel ' here, I will post some things I have written over the past few years. I hope you enjoy, or better yet, I hope they make you think.....

Obviously I have changed any identifying factors from the article, but other than the location and her name, everything else is the same.

Big City, S.C. -- The Big City Coroner's Office said Monday that an autopsy turned up no signs of foul play in death of a 40-year-old homeless woman who found dead in a building near Big City Mall over the weekend.

Jane Doe's body was found Saturday night in a building on a Big City Road.

Big City deputies said that when they responded to an anonymous call about 8:30 Saturday night, they found Jane Doe's 's body at the former Big City building.

Investigators said that Jane Doe had been dead at least several days.

Deputies said that they believe she was homeless and seeking shelter in the empty building. Investigators said that they found her personal belongings scattered inside.

She was somebody’s friend. She was somebody’s mother.
She was somebody’s daughter, somebody’s lover.

She died all alone in a cold dark place.
When was the last time she saw a kind face?

Did she smile to those who saw her last? Did they
smile back or just wait for her to pass?

Did they turn their heads and avert their eyes,
Look left or look right or towards the sky?

Did they pretend they not to see her as they passed her on the street?
Did she ask them for money or something to eat?

Will I look away when she passes me again,
Someone else’s mom, someone else’s friend?

Digging through a garbage can for something to eat,
Sleeping in a warehouse where there was no heat.

Dying alone with no one to care.
Dying alone in such deep despair.

It could have been me it could have been you,
Or your mom or your daughter or a friend that you knew.

Will I turn my head will I walk away?
Decide right now-it happens everyday.