Archive for the ‘Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Psychological Abuse’ Category



If I wrote a book, which is actually one of my #1 goals, what would I call it??

What would I discuss?

How would I discuss it?

Do I write in first person, or third person?

Do I detail all my abuses from age one, or do I focus on my illnesses and backtrack (using scientific studies on trauma) how the abuses may have caused or influenced my conditions?

Random Ideas for Titles?

– Miss Diagnosed

– Not Quite Enough

– Out of the Ashes

– Product of Violence

– Living in Forty Places

-No Place to Call “Home”

– You Don’t Look Sick!

– In Spite of it All

– It’s Easier to Hurt on the Outside


Ideas, anyone?

(See also my post entitled “Hey Lifetime, Make a Movie of This!”)


“The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all.”

Yes, I can see that in nature, but I sure cant find that I myself right now. I’ve had a bad week (and no, the Boston lunacy had nothing to do with that).

In adversity I flounder, I anger, I seethe at the unfairness. I cry about actually being abandoned by doctors that are supposed to heal, family that is supposed to support, and friends that are supposed to lend a helping hand – and DON’T.

In adversity, like the kind I’m facing right now – the culmination of 49 yrs of abuse, sickness, pain, abandonment, and ignorance -I just want to wither and die.

I can’t bloom. I have nothing left from which to create such beauty.


Ok, I’ll play the game. (Can’t put this on Facebook since I have so few individuals as friends, there wouldn’t get enough answers to make it worthwhile.)

Find the falsehood amongst the following four statements:

1. Delayed Onset Sleep Phase Disorder is often a lifelong condition, originating in childhood, and can be severe enough to cause a lifelong disability.

2. Lupus patients usually have nephrological complications if their body produces anti-double-stranedd DNA antibodies.

3. Autonomic nervous system disorders can be completely overcome if the origin of the disorder is identified.

4. Breast tissue can randomly grow anywhere along the “milk line,” from the armpits, down to the groin area.

*sources: Medscape, NCBI, Wikipedia, Mayo Clinic, Skyscape, surgical texts

(This is essentially a rehash of a blog written in response to a prompt from the LAST WEGO Challenge – WEGO – we need more NEW PROMPTS and challenges!! I gave you a list of many – but I can come up with more to avoid duplicative entries every few months….)


A letter to my illness…which one? Take your pick.

Hey Messed Up Body,

What the hell is going on?
We survived a childhood full of sexual, emotional and physical abuse – but FOR WHAT?  Yea, yea, we’ve heard it over and over – “You’re a survivor – look at all you’ve had to deal with.”  (If it was such a big deal then where was the help for ME when I was suffering daily rape between ages 2 to 14, near daily beatings, and cowering in closets and kitchen cabinets with a mon=ther that was too meek to stand up for us and get us out of that situation. Where were the friends and relatives and teachers and social workers and activists for ME and my meek mother? No where to be found. I guess being a plain ol’ white kid make me not worthwhile.

Then I hear about the trauma theories, made popular by Bassel Van Der Kolk – it actually changes the structure of the brain; and trauma is stored in the body. If that’s the case, then where is the help for ME? My brain must be scrambled eggs by now. I’ve reached out to so many agencies so many times, even Dr. Van Der Kolk’s very own agency. What do I get in response? “Call you insurance company – go see a social worker!  Well I have, and look how much good 30 years of counseling with about 10 different “social workers” has done for me – not much, if you ask me. It’s left me bitter, angry and full of hatred towards my self and my sick body.

Wait – is THAT it?

Does complete self-hatred make the body sick, or is the body sick because of all the crap t has been taking for 49 years?

I get why the ulcers at age 11. Makes sense. It was a cry for help.

Just like the self-harming that started around age 10 (see,  I was WAYYYY ahead of the trend!!)

The migraines at age 12  – a response to the stresses of daily trauma or an actual symptom of something physiologically wrong inside my head?

The autoimmune stuff that began to surface, also at age 12 – as I always said to myself – it IS the ultimate form of self-hatred – the body against itself. Then why do I have to literally go into battle with physicians just to ge them run tests to prove that I have some very bizarre autoimmune blood markers?  Why is it that you have made it so that doctors don’t believe me and want to brush me off to the side.

Where is MY Dr. House?

Why is everything you throw at me have to be something that doctors can’t figure out? All you do is pile on the stuff and that just adds insult to injury? WHAt about the pre-cancerous lesions I had on my cervix, oddly at the same time my coworker was experiencing the same thing? I watched her get sliced open, have the doctor tear up her intestines and leave her with a life time of bowel issues, not to mention she was rendered infertile, at age 26. Once again, I had to do a large amount of burdensome research at medical libraries (there as no internet back then) to again show that the standard of care for such things was simple laser ablation, and NOT invasive techniques like my poor co-worker endured. Then shortly thereafter, the mysterious ovarian cyst appeared that I actually had to write a letter to a senator to allow me to get the surgery that again, was the standard of care for such a thing – not a massively invasive 8″ incision the included the removal of my intestines and increased the risk of infection that was being offered to me by the local-yokel doctors.

What is with the genetic malformations in the nerves in my lower back and legs?  Is it just a joke to watch me get disrespected by numerous doctors, surgeons, anesthesiologists, chiropractors and neurologists – to be called a “drug-seeker, ”  to be accused of being out for “secondary gain,” only to finally find a doctor after years and years of MY OWN research that could image these areas and see the anomaly and surgically improve my pain? (Thank you Dr. Filler!)

Then af age 44, I began developing extra lumpy tissue underneath both arms, It was so very painful, and I couldn’t wear normal clothes. I got passed from PCP to NP and finally to a surgeon, who thank God, had seen the condition before – something that affects about 2% of the world population – axillary breast tissue. It was successfully removed and once again I had arm pits, but once again, that surgery wouldn’t have happened without my extensive research into the matter, proving it wasn’t cancer or a “normal” part of my anatomy. Then, 2 years later, my breasts suddenly and painfully begin to grow – 5 additional sizes, and then some. For no reason. MY PCP shrugged, and sent me another PCP, who sent me to se the NP that specialized in “lady parts,” who referred me to a surgeon who them sent me to a breast specialist and another surgeon. In the meantime, I strongly suggested, based upon the research I had found, that I see an endocrinologist. Surprise, surprise – she found a tumor on my pituitary that could be responsible for spewing out all the additional and unnecessary hormones that had been causing my breast to grow – and probably caused the underarm breast tissue to grow as well. In addition to the brain tumor that was found, a lump in my left breast was found a removed – benign, but nonetheless, had I not doe my own research and been proactive enough to insist that see certain doctors, then neither tumor would have been found.

Why is it that I am constantly thrown into the hands of doctors that don’t seem to know the meaning of Continuing Medical Education, or eve feel the need to keep up with the advances in medicine in their fields? ANd to get this poor care in the alleged “Medical Mecca” of Boston MA?  What a complete joke.

The ultimate proof of how much YOU hate me, stupid body, is this Autonomic Nervous System Dysfunction, with the delayed gastric emptying, (which means being hungry and not being able to eat because my digestive system doesn’t work properly). he wildly labile blood pressure, the strange electrophysiology of what is allegedly a “perfect: heart (according to the cardiologists), the sudden syncope followed by hours of immobility and bradycardia, the horribly dry eyes and dry mouth, and  the painful intolerance to cold resulting in livedo reticularis, the severe dry eyes and constant dry mouth. And, of course, the rabid unpredictability of it all.

I call it GPS disease….

                                                                              Livedo reticularisLivedo reticularis

Honestly, this condition is the last straw. I can’t take living like this anymore. My husband can’t handle the issues either – he told me so today. He said he as “done.”

SO, thanks you lousy body, you’ve driven so manypeople away, and now you have destroyed this last relationship of mine as well? Does years of sexual abuse by many people lead to an autonomic nervous system disorder that waits 35 years to reveal itself? If so, why? And why NOW? Isn’t the genetic anomaly stuff in my back and legs, my brutal sleep disorder that makes everything else much worse (Delayed Onset Sleep Phase), the pituitary tumor , the shoulder problems, the totally weird way my body cannibalizes my teeth (resorption), the whacked out way my breast size keeps painfully increasing,  and now the icing on this fallen cake –  my hair is “officially” falling out – telogen effluvium.

(no my head, but a darn close sample)

(noy my head, but a darn close sample)

God dammit Body, why do you hand me problems that require ME to do all this research – and then do battle with my doctors just to figure out what is going on? Honestly, it feels as if YOU are torturing me on purpose. What the heck did I do to you?

I hate you and what you have done to my life, First, you let me be a filthy sex toy for my father, neighbors and later, so-called friends. Then you continue the degradation by afflicting me  with the most bizarre illnesses you could conjure. We are on the same team, in case you haven’t noticed. You have made it so I have nothing left. You have forced me to do time in this bizarre prison camp for crimes I didn’t commit – what more do you want? Unless you are trying to tell me something..that there IS NOTHING to fight for anymore. Because I have nothing left to give. You have taken it all away. The food I give you feel like a waste of time and money. Why I continue to care for you is beyond the scope of my comprehension. If you were a separate entity, you would be jailed, punished and ignored.

Figure this out quick, or else you won’ ave me to torture any longer.

I cannot believe there is a show on TV called “My Life is a Lifetime Movie,” and dammit, why haven’t they called me yet? My life, documented on video, would be more than one Lifetime movie. Which pieces of my life would get the best ratings??

Would it be the movie about my childhood, the 14 yrs of sexual, physical and psychological abuse by my father, and how I, despite all the ugliness and my mother’s denial, became a super achiever and a teenage alcoholic but still ended up in college at 16. Highlights include how I survived several “date rapes” (some with impressive dramatic flourish) and the life lessons I learned by hanging out in an Irish bar in Pensacola, FL.

Or, would it be the sequel to that one, about my bizarre first marriage at 18 to a Navy officer and how I “grew up” during his deployments, and how he didn’t like the grown up me, and thus propelled me into my first divorce, my “downward spiral” and the discovery of my fucked-up-ness and my first journey into therapy and how I discover just how much my dysfunctional childhood has messed me up.

Perhaps it would be the movie that follows the path I travelled to become a police officer, how I tried my hardest to rise above the effects of my disgusting childhood, and the oh-so-very fucked up people (other cops) I worked with and our sad, comedic, and almost unbelievable adventures with every nook and cranny of society. I first encountered a physical limitation (Rayauds) during this time, and I got a raw dose of gender-based harassment (legally known as the “hostile work environment”). Acceptance of females in law enforcement will never exist. Never. There are some very gritty reasons why I left “the job,” and even so, not a day goes by that I don’t miss wearing the uniform.

Or, it could be the stand-alone movie that follows my adjustment to life after police work, my serial monogamy, my entry into the twisted and beautiful world of EMS (emergency medical services), and the fantastic friendships, devastating betrayals and immoral forays that happen in all EMS communities. Yeah…I’d definitely TiVo that one….

Then, there’s the absolutely un-Disneylike thrill ride I’ve been on since 1994. My sociopathic (officially diagnosed!) now-ex-husband made my life into several episodes ofCops, and my continued struggle for perfection through physical training and workplace achievements to try to compensate for my poor choice of s spouse and the God-awful embarrassment of facing a 3d divorce. The abuse he inflicted on a daily basis was so psychologically twisted and emotionally damaging, I find it hard to believe I lived 5 and a half years with the fear of never knowing what he would do next. I eventually escape into what’s left of my life, optimistically at first, only to have my social network crumble, my dear mother suffer a disfiguring stroke and suffer for years in her disintegrating condition, and then after she passes, my health turns against me. The Lifetime moment in this saga is finding, by pure coincidence, my amazing husband, who has stuck by me through all tragedy, surgeries and soul-swilling depression for the last 11 years.

I’ve not included the gory details in my brief descriptions, and there are far more plot twists and turns than any other Lifetime movie has ever shown, and much more unconscionable bizarreness than any Lifetime movie writer ever thought of.

So, Lifetime, what do you think?


Ha. An off day – what day ISN’T an off day? BP up, BP down, back pain kicks in and nothing helps, then there are the headaches that come from the highs, and the lows.

Basically I’m writing to say I am taking a “bye” for this day. Obviously, it’s 4 days late.

As for the prompts for today:

– I am way to depressed and angry to create a “care package” – really? Who the hell cared about ME my entire life, going through hell after hell after hell. Not a single person, save my poor Mom, She knew there was something wrong and was just as irate at the docs for constantly dismissing me .

– Everything I kvetch about IS a memory of sorts. The rest of the memories that live in this haunted house called my brain you don’t want to hear.

So there.