Child Abuse

It has been said by some psychologists that “Physical abuse isn't the same as emotional abuse”. Who knows, it may even be true. But physical abuse still holds psychological trauma, though perhaps not so severe as purely psychological and emotional abuse.

FOR THE RECORD! I do not personally know about physical or sexual abuse.. except for psychological sexual abuse I suppose. I am NOT claiming to know what it is like for anyone who has, and I really really do not mean to hurt anyone, so if this is a sensitive topic to you and you are not ready to read this please feel free to x out of this tab in your browser, or hit the back button, etc. I'm not trying to diminish anyone's pain, by any means.

I don't know, I was never physically abused. But one thing I do know is that physical abuse does have psychological manifestations as well, because when it is done to children it begins a cycle of abuse and acceptance of it. For example: Say there's a girl named Mary, raised by her parents. They beat her from when she is 5 years old on up, from spankings to more violent means. She begins to quickly learn that this is her world. That this is how things simply are. At first she doesn't understand why Mommy and Daddy hurt her, then she begins to believe she deserves it. She starts to accept it, if not like it. Because she is so young and her brain is developing, she begins to learn that this is okay, that she deserves it, she is a bad girl. She will probably try to be good, but the parents don't see that, they only see what they perceive as bad behavior, and so her box of what she thinks she can do begins to shrink.

It's hard for me to write this, and I haven't even been hit. I was spanked once as a kid, maybe 8 or so, because I had to stay after school and my dad didn't know where I was, so he took his frustration out on me. I didn't understand what I did wrong and thought it was unfair. I never had a problem with him again until I was 16.

So she begins to become less social possibly, because her trust is so small and she begins to expect the same behavior from her parents to come from others. She starts dating someone who is like her parents because that's what she recognizes, and she enters the realm of domestic violence. Psychologically, people in domestically violent situations have trouble distancing themselves from the person because they have lived with it for so long that it becomes survival. It becomes second nature to excuse their partner's problems. It's not that bad, they'll change, etc. This is not due to weakness, or them being pathetic. You being in that situation will be different from someone else. What you might do in that situation as someone who didn't grow accustomed to it will be VASTLY different than someone trained for it.

Or perhaps the abused will become the abuser over time. That happens as well.

When it comes to psychological damage, that depends on a per situation basis. I mean, hell, with my dad, I don't think he ever knew how I reacted to offhand comments he'd make when he was drunk. I don't think it occurred to him at all. I don't blame him for that at all. I don't blame him for what my mind took from what he said. I'm not so sure I entirely blame myself, either. It was just something that happened when a feminist at heart hears things for extended periods of time.

See, my father would make comments about how women used to be in positions of great respect and authority, before christianity. Then men took over. I'd go into detail but I can already feel the fury that came with this coming on a little. Basically, my dad went into details about just how screwed over women were over the centuries... Sometimes he'd take a more feminist approach, other times he'd be a misogynistic prick. He made little DARK “jokes” about how the reason high heels and miniskirts are supposedly so popular with men is it makes it harder for the women to run away and “easy access”.

Sometimes he'd make comments about how all the boys watched me walk away. But no, they weren't really interested in ME, they just wanted whatever pussy they could get. Etc, etc, etc. When I focus on it, I can see what he MEANT by it, what he meant to do by it, which was discourage me from having sex before I was ready.

But now? Well, I despised the very idea of sex for a long time. Then I distanced myself entirely from it. I'd have sex with someone, but basically be out of my body, emotionally GONE. I didn't enjoy it, it was more like I was trying to understand why people like this act that is supposedly so fun, so good, so “perfect” or whatever. I distanced myself from it so utterly that being raped didn't really bother me, as fucked up as it sounds. What bothered me the MOST about it was how close I came to being ACTUALLY hurt. The guy was an ex convict. I was in a van but NOT at all where I remembered being before it all started. I had blacked out and woke up with the guy on top of me, inside me, and he looked like a demon with the way he was backlit by the streetlight outside. What freaked me out was the lack of control, the sheer fact that even after I left that next morning I needed him to walk me to the bus stop/max train.

Being raped didn't scare me. I was angry about it, but he was much bigger than me, so all I could really do was beg him to let me sleep, to get out of me, to just let me sleep, etc.

But now? For some reason, the very topic of sex bothers me. I can talk about the life of a sex worker/escort with some of my friends who have been. I can contemplate abstractly filming myself and my husband as amateur porn or something. Not that I'd end up doing it, simply because I just don't want people I know to see me. I can discuss my own sex life I think, though I'm not sure. I haven't, really. But other people's? Talking about sex and our culture, abstractly? Talking about sex and “Sexual freedom” etc? It just makes me shut down just as a room with people in it does. Even sounds of a tv show can shut me down on occasion.

It's amazing what can change your views, your outlook on life. Your very personality. I've always been a strong person, though in high school I was too afraid. I was angry enough and determined enough to come into myself.

I don't think everyone is that lucky. I don't think everyone who has been abused can just... shut it out, have it be a good thing that changes them for the better. CPS doesn't do much to help anyone, but it's better than ignoring it, in my opinion.

Social Anxiety Disorder, Undiagnosed

This is something I've struggled with for a long time, put off, ignored, explained away, and just sort of.... tried to survive.  Humans are social creatures, right?  Well, I'm at least partly human. I prefer communicating online for a variety of reasons.  I don't have to try to read facial expressions- I suck at it. Absolutely terrible. I always tend to think people are angry with me, for some reason. I think something's wrong when it's not. Perhaps it's just a set-in fear that I'm doing something wrong, not fitting in. Not meant to be here. I don't belong.

Hell, when people are in the room I shut down so completely now I can't even read to escape them. I convince myself that I can't write because there is something about them

I convince myself that even them talking is just more things backing me into a corner til all I want to do is scream.

In middle and high school, I'd duck and weave through the crowds. I'd avoid people and physical contact as much as possible.

In 10th grade, a science teacher had us go up to the table at the front of the room, and gather papers. The idea panicked me, so what did I do? I crawled under all the desks, shoved my way between two people, grabbed all the papers, and went back to my desk the same way.  Needless to say I didn't have a ton of friends.

I mean, post childbirth I ate hardly anything for two weeks because I am staying at a homeless shelter, about to get in to an apartment.. And one of the rules is you can only eat the food they provide. We're allowed to eat what we want, off site.

Now, here's the problem with that, and my problematic thinking.  I have a newborn. He wakes up at a cricket's sneeze.  The shelter and this day program have approximately 6 families here at any given time, who have no respect for anyone else. Needless to say the kitchen is hectic, noisy, and a garaunteed panic attack. Jason (my husband) has had the food stamp card this month, and if I leave the day shelter (by an elevator) I need someone to open the door for me when I come back, because I can't take the stroller down the stairs.

Last night I took a drug test for the shelter I am staying at. I was having such a panic attack my leg was bouncing so much it looked like I was tweaking out. I had to explain that I was not under any influences, that I was having a panic attack.  I mean, really. This is screwing up my life.

But I don't trust therapists/shrinks/etc, either. So now it's come to the point where I NEED help but I'm afraid of it.

This world is very unfriendly to people with Social Anxiety. :/

Possibilities

So, I "liked" The White House on Facebook, primarily so I can keep track of what they're trying to say they are trying to do.  Today when I logged on, I saw that there was a status asking what you would like to ask the President.

I replied to it.  I asked what he planned to do about the homeless epidemic in our country. And seeing as the homeless population here has grown by 30% in the last 2 years, and the number of shelters has not, I'd say that's a serious problem.

I would like to know why our government is not doing anything about it. In fact, funding is dropping. Now, I don't think thats a bad thing all the time. I'd much rather they used the funding for beds, because it's far easier to donate food than shelter as an individual taxpayer.  However, I do want to know what they plan to do about it. Not even just Obama. I want our government to stop being so utterly stupid.  They make obscene amounts of money. The average American does NOT.

I'd also really like to know how it is that these people running our country haven't been able to come up with a very simple program.  Now, I will be honest. I know next to nothing about our Government's spending when it comes to how they approve stuff. However I fail to grasp how these people, who are allegedly more intelligent than me, can't come up with something like the following that would work:


Take some funds from the DoD.  We don't need more fancy airplanes, or fancy new guns. I'm sure things could be trimmed from that part of the budget if you just looked, so do it. This is my money you're playing with, money you take out of my taxes.

I'm not saying take a lot.  But take some from that, and hell... Don't take a bonus this year. You already have obscene amounts of money as it is. You make a lot as well.  Or make the people of Wall Street pay for what they did.  Your call.


Anyway, take that nice bundle of money.  Near metropolitan areas, pick some spots that will work for homeless transitional housing for a year.  Hire only the homeless and unemployed to build it.  Pay them decently, and then give them an apartment for their work. 

Very simple.  I'm sure there are flaws in my logic that can be pointed out, but intelligent people can figure things out if they truly want to.

When there are.. wasn't it 18 million vacant homes in America? And only what, 2-3 million homeless? (HAH, only.) What is your excuse? Really?

Labor and Delivery.. What happened to me

It wasn't the most horrible experience in the world, though maybe I should consider it so. It certainly was unique and harrowing.  At this point in my story it's about 11 pm (pacific) January 2nd. I was due to have him on the 26th or 28th, and on the 3rd I was to be induced that evening.

At this point in our story I'd just arrived at the emergency room with Jason and our friend Logan. I gingerly sat myself in a wheelchair and held our bags on my lap, grimacing with the contractions.  Now that I know what labor contractions are like, braxton hicks are like a tickle.

Anyway, Jason pushed me all the way to the 12th floor, and this time they didn't send me to triage. I don't know how they knew the difference  between this and the 3 times I'd been in before but somehow they did.  I remember I was unhappy because I had a feeling I wouldn't be able to sleep much that night, and I was hungry. I had two snickers with me that Jason had grabbed for me. I wanted to eat one but I was in too much pain when I first got there.  They came in and checked my vitals, I don't remember what they were at, but the nurse was not alarmed. They put the monitor on me, (there are two, one for the baby's heartbeat and one for your contractions.

They keep a blood pressure cuff on you and it checks you every 15 minutes or something.  I was having such pain when they were putting it on me, (the monitors) I asked if I could have an epidural. The pain had worsened.

The nurses are nicer than the doctors. The nurse at that time said "I'm so sorry, if you can make it for just one hour without any pain meds we'll get you that epidural, okay?"  Because they wanted to check my contractions.  I concentrated as best I could to ignore it, and I lasted 45 minutes. By that point I was wild-eyed and I pressed the button, because they were so bad I couldn't make them go away.

Note.. I rarely complain about pain. I will mention having a migraine so people know if I'm cranky, but I don't whine. This pain was so bad I was holding Jason's forearms and staring into his eyes saying in a panicked breath over and over "HOW LONG? HOW LONG?".

I'm still not sure what I was asking that about.

They came in and gave me the epidural. I sat at the edge of the bed and stared at Jason, trying my best to hold still. The pain didn't entirely go away but I could ignore it again.  They then said we could sleep, so they laid down and so did I.  I managed to sleep for a couple of hours, only getting up when the nurse came in to check my temperature. At 7 the new doctor came in and checked my cervix. I had started at 3 centimeters the night before, I was up to 4. They went away again for a little while, around 11 I started having more pain and the epidural didn't help as much anymore.

Then around then they said my cervix was dilated to 9 centimeters. Came back, 9 and almost completely effaced. Came back again.. TIME TO GO.  I was not excited about it, or scared. I just wanted the pain to be gone, for this crap to be DONE.

Oh, insert... I forgot about this part. I hope for your sake your doctors are more intelligent than mine. Mine reached in and felt Aedric's hair.. and tried to pop "the water sac".  They thought that my amniotic sac hadn't popped, when apparently it had. They tried popping it with every contraction. When he came out, he had blood all over his head, and scratches in one spot from where they tried popping HIM like he was the frigging amniotic sac. I was really upset with that. They ignored it and pretended it didn't happen. Poor kid.

Also, according to Jason part of the reason they wanted me to start pushing was i had blood in the catheter bag.  MY catheter didn't hurt. idk if yours will.

Logan left the room, Jason sat on my left.



No matter what they tell you, for me at least birth was an entirely solitary venture. I didn't scream at Jason, or tell him we were never having sex again. I had tunnel vision, I swear.  I pushed when they told me to push the first few times then figured out the rhythm.  I am not sure how much later, maybe half an hour? they said that he was crowning.  And so to push.  Hard.

Well, what I didn't know at the time was apparently his blood pressure dropped during this phase, and they started really getitng on me about pushing.

I went into tunnel vision mode. I was looking, but not seeing. I pushed, and I pushed HARD. I started to feel his head coming out. As soon as I felt that, they got really excited and started pressuring me to push harder. It annoyed me a bit, but I did. I pushed with everything I had, twice. The first time I felt his head come out, the second time I felt the most awkward feeling ever... It felt like something big and lumpy falling out of me. Apparently it was the baby and the placenta.

I blacked out completely.. Just.. gone.  I vaguely remember being on the phone with my dad telling him he was a grandpa. Not sure what I sounded like on the phone.  I remember Jason trying to hand me the baby, he was gray.  I blacked out for basically 3 hours with intermitten moments of wakefulness. I woke up to them talking about my tear and sewing me up. Out again. Around 4 they started telling me they were going to be taking me up to mother and chidren unit.

Oh, right after I gave birth I tried to eat a snickers. I had puked once, all water, about an hour before.  This time I puked up the snickers and water.

Around 4 they gave me a ginger ale, a cup of juice, and water and crackers. I was determined to hold SOMETHING down, and I managed to. A little bit of each liquid and 4 types of crackers.

Now, note, according to everyone my lips were WHITE. literally. When I got upstairs, the lady asked me if I was hungry, I said yes. She got me a turkey sandwich, it was really dry. Took me a long time to choke it down.

Ok I think I went a little past childbirth, so I'll take a break. If people want to know about the rest of my hospital stay (bitch nurse, transfusion, lol.. the joys of having a stage 3 tear..) let me know.

The day leading up to labor

I have a couple of friends who are pregnant with their first children as well, and I love talking about certain "taboo" topics that in my opinion should not be taboo.

If we were more honest about things like this, the world would be a better place.

I should say this- I had a perfectly normal pregnancy. Slightly low iron count at one point, and I should have taken all my iron pills like I was supposed to, but oh well.  No high blood pressure, I gained 45 lb (I started out at 115-120ish).  No extra fat, really. No strange cravings.  Just me, with something slightly larger than a basketball attached to my previously flat abdomen.

I'd gone into false labor 3 times already. I was a week overdue, and going to be induced the following evening.  We had just gotten some family photos taken that day of myself and my husband with my full belly, and I was a bit nervous about the possible inducing. Not scared, I just don't necessarily like hospitals.

I had no real pain until the last 2 weeks or so of my pregnancy. Then I started getting something that felt like a VERY strong period back cramp, if you know what that's like.

For those lucky enough to not get back cramps due to your menstrual cycle, or those with a penis who've never experienced it, imagine something about the size of a hand pressing REALLY HARD into your back. Like.. the feeling you get when you get kicked or hit really hard on a bone/a spot with little muscle.

Sitting became painful a couple of times, and I grew sick of finding out that my cervix hadn't changed. So that day, I ignored the pain and the contractions because I had already gone in three times.


Note... I despise the health care system. I hate the fact that they treat you like a problem, not a person. I hate that they use any excuse to send you home if they can.  They don't care if you are in pain. They don't care about you at all. It really pisses me off, that these people who make such an amount of money (doctors), who get to go golfing and shit will treat you like a piece of trash or something insignificant.

Yes, there are lots of humans on the planet. I'm not denying that. but when you go to a hospital, you are going because there is something you perceive as WRONG, and you are putting your life, literally, in their hands and trusting them to help you.

So yeah, the cavalier "Oh, pain sucks get used to it" attitude irritated me.  I didn't want to go have to get the same stupid little speech AGAIN.

You know the one.  "When contractions are 5 minutes apart and your water bag breaks".  "Your contractions are 10 minutes apart, not 5." etc.

So, that day (Monday the 2nd) I sat in extreme discomfort, as was my norm, at the library. Every hour or so I'd get up to pee, and didn't think much of it. My breasts had juuust started to get bigger and at one point leaked a little of the yellow stuff, Chlostrom or something. So I had a feeling I was close.


Here's where it gets a bit interesting, btw..  Two people predicted two things. They were both right. Misty, my friend Logan's mom, predicted that around 2-3 am something would happen. She had predicted this a week or so before. Perhaps two weeks. Three days later my mucous plug started coming out at 2:30 am.

My friend Kendra told me I'd go into labor at night, when I was ready for bed, or going to sleep.


Keep that information in mind for this next part.

We get on the train to go back to the night shelter at 6:00 or so.  I'm slightly grouchy because the pressure is stronger and I just want it to stop. It's now been an ongoing presence for at least two weeks, but it's gotten much stronger over the past two to three days.

We get to the night shelter, I lay down because my contractions are irritating me. Note, I was having them 5 minutes apart once and when I went to the hospital they stopped cold. So, I ignored it.  My water hadn't broken that I knew of, so I just laid there. Fell asleep for AN HOUR.  In said hour, 3 times I woke up to a contraction so painful I grunted.  Contractions started out uncomfortable. Then they were painful. I got up, Jason was snappy with me because I guess he didn't want to have to go in or something. He asked if I was sure, I said no, give me a few minutes.

I went to the bathroom, came back, made it to a chair and sat there.  A couple of women who have 3 kids each came by to check on me, both said they really thought it was labor and I should go in this time, because I was going to be induced that night anyway.. I was like mmm yeah.. Not really wanting to. I hate the way doctors treat you.

Jason went out for yet another cigarette, and our friend Logan wandered up.  He asked what my symptoms were like, raised his eyebrows, and was like "we're going in. If it woke you up, we are going in."  We went out and told Jason, who called the medical transport number. I went to the bathroom again because the feeling of having to poop was so strong (Tooooootally a sign of labor unfortunately. NOT pleasant.)

So, in my pain-caused haze I grabbed a pair of squishy slippers, and made sure jason had my laptop and my camera. I then went to the bathroom, and had a contraction so fierce I had to bend double and hold still for a couple of minutes. Jason asked if I was okay, because the medical transport was here.

Yeah, give me a minute... contraction again.  He sighs, waits outside and helps me to the taxi.  We left the night shelter, and I carefully climbed into the backseat. Jason was asking consistently about my contractions, I was trying to distract myself by watching that little...  meter? Thing that they have in cabs.. Where they tell you how far you've gone and how much you owe. I distracted myself from the pain by watching that number.

The cab guy was nice. He didn't hit any bumps, and got us there really quickly.  We went from 122nd and Halsey on one side of the river to OHSU which is at the top of a hill on the other side of DOWNTOWN (which is right on the river on the other side) in maybe 20 minutes. And that was WITH the super confusing roads by PSU (which is how you get to the streets that take you up to OHSU (Oregon Health and Science University)

I remember feeling bad I couldn't tip him, but I DID thank him.

Let's Blame The Scapegoat!

Okay, I'm finally pissed enough to do this. I've been meaning to for a while but good FUCK people, open your goddamn eyes!  For the record this is a blog in reference to the NDAA bill that got passed nearly UNANIMOUSLY by the senate, and yet people are blaming the PRESIDENT for signing it.

Way to go, America.  Once again you are making me ashamed of the fact that I was born on this particular patch of dirt, not because I hate you but because you are disgusting me. You allowed yourselves to ignore the problem that was rising in our country for far too long because you just let the media, propaganda, and psychological manipulations get to you, to make you think you could do nothing. And now your back is up against a wall, and you need to face the fire.

Yeah, shit just got real. You didn't see the warning flags coming from miles away? Who is to blame for that? Hmm. You are, as well. (Note, I am not saying I am blameless either. I too was misled, scared, and thought that one person could do nothing to make a difference.  But enough is enough.)

*Sighs* Look, sweety.. I'm not angry with you, not really. I am frustrated, aggravated, and annoyed that even now, you are being misdirected from the true problem, and are still listening to the idiotic mob mentality the media likes to play on. 

You are not entirely to blame, however, and that is the point I am making here. Everything has woven together to make a beautiful, deadly tapestry of deceit. America has long been known for our love of shiny toys, of the newest big thing. I'm a rare case, and I'm not saying it was a good thing.  I grew up poor, yeah. But I also grew up intelligent, and for some reason, at the age of 12 I figured out the psychology behind everything.  I despise TV not because of the content of TV shows but what advertising does to the human mind, of how much and how easily the manipulations of phrasing, colors, etc in a 30 second clip of video can manipulate the way people think.

I grew up without a lot of the shiny toys, because I was poor.  And at the same time, I was fine with that. I have always been someone that's perfectly content in my own head.  But I'm a rare bird in that way.

I hate that advertising and the media and our consumer culture turns children against each other. It turns the gift of toys into a race, to see who has the best, who doesn't, and it just amplifies the greed and hoarding instincts that exist within all of us.  And somehow, they made it powerful enough to distract us so much that we forgot that the people running our Government are the people who make the money on the advertising or the homes or this or that...  We forgot that we are the people, and they are supposed to do things for us, not themselves.

My point here is, that OBAMA is not the one who started the NDAA bill. He is not the Senate, who voted for it almost unanimously. He is not the Congress, who voted 283-136 with 14 members not voting.  OBAMA can only veto the bill, which sends it RIGHT back to the people who already passed it.

I'm not saying I support him signing it AT ALL, by a long shot.  But the President is far from "GOD" or "KING" or have you forgotten that? A president can only veto it. Then it would have gone back, they'd revote, and it would become law anyway.  Don't blame the last person who touched it for the taint that exists within it.

Open your eyes. Open your mind. THINK.  There is MUCH more going on behind the scenes than you think when you're only barely paying attention. Think deeper. I know it's scary to think of the bigger problem, because it's so vast it's like someone standing in the middle of a street and seeing a 150' tidal wave bearing down on them.  But sometimes you really do have to look.