The stigma explained
I get physically tired sometimes, but at least I get a good night’s sleep. This is so important for maintaining focus and energy during the day. And when I am well-rested, I can even do my work faster than if I’m tired.
I take a medication that is incredibly sedating: Clozapine. Don’t get me wrong… it’s a miracle of a drug for me, and it had totally changed my life. Before starting Clozapine three years ago, my soul was crippled by the whims of my ill brain, especially after I developed schizophrenia in 2007. I’d take my medications faithfully, but still I would relapse to hospital level. And each time, I lost everything I had worked for, and was reduced to living at home.
It was discouraging to see my life fall apart again and again, no matter how much I focused my mind on success. It was discouraging to…
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Yes, there are triggers here, big ones, still a must read because past the triggers there is hope.
I first hosted Byron during March when he wrote FIGHTING BACK for my bully series. This month he wrote a post that Megsanity and a few other high profile bloggers helped get in front of nearly 35,000 people. It is an important message about the flexibility of the human spirit.
It’s much more than that though. It’s about making choices. It’s about choosing to continue the cycle of abuse, or choosing instead to become a champion for love.
A lot of people raised with violence commit violent crimes themselves. They often end up going to jail, or terrorizing their families. But what is it that makes those who come from abused homes decide against the violence? What makes them choose the path of good?
I believe many victims learn to hide their abuse. Others justify their abusers, or never truly admit to themselves that they were abused at all.
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A must read
I had a conversation with a terrorist.
I was appalled by her beliefs. Angry at the intensity of her hate. I couldn’t understand why such a monster resided inside of me.
It’s hard to love yourself because you know all the things nobody else knows. You see all the parts nobody else sees. You feel things nobody else knows about.
Self-loathing, low self-esteem, self-hatred, shame, whatever you call it can be the result of cultural programming, of decisions you make that cause guilt, or could be the result of being bullied.
You believe you are an unacceptable human. You apologize for everything. You are always at fault and therefore you are easy to blame.
You don’t think you deserve good things and so you are a master saboteurs.
At some point you have to identify the terrorist inside. The one that causes you to throw opportunity away. The one that…
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I think I’ve never read a more clear, complete, and experience based treatment of this subject.
I find things in my archives, some of forgotten provenance, such as this poem from long ago. I don’t recall now when I either wrote it or found it. If I did find it, I apologize to the author for having lost the reference, and ask that if anybody recognizes it tha they tell me so I can give credit where it is due. It is about partings, the subject of so many songs and poems. It is about those times when the ship has sailed or the train has left the station, and how little it matters whether one is on the ship or the shore, the train or the platform. In song, the play list is too long to put here, and besides, every one has their own. Which parting brought this into my journals, I don’t know. Perhaps it was that girl from the North Country, perhaps not, but another. It was long before Annabel Lee and the lost Lenore came to mean much. Anyway, here is, “After a While.”