These are the People in Your Neighborhood

Take race out of the equation. Would he have pursued him? Called the police? Tailed him even after a 911 operator told him to stop following the boy? Gotten out of the car to confront him, knowing that police were on their way?

Now flip the script. If Martin had been white and Zimmern black, would that verdict have been different?

Sad thing is, racism was, and still is, an issue in our country. The thing is, until I was almost in middle school, I didn’t know racism existed.

I live in a city that’s a nice mixture of many races. I grew up having block parties with people of many different backgrounds. I was exposed to other cultures at a young age. I remember having cow tongue tacos (tacos lenguas) with our next door neighbors. Skipping double dutch or doing drills with the girls down the street. Watching tv with my friend while her mother put cornrows in her hair. Learning to speak Spanish from the kids in the neighborhood. Playing marbles for “keepsies” with every kid on the block gathered around to watch like it was the World Cup. This was my childhood and it was great.

Fast forward to Fourth Grade. I was a smart kid who was pretty socially awkward. I got bullied a lot. One of my bullies was a girl who I had been friends with at one point. While we were on our way to the library, she balled up her fist and made a motion like she was going to hit me. When I flinched, she asked me if I was prejudiced. I had no idea what that meant. As I stared blankly at her, my friend Travis spoke up for me. “If she was prejudiced, she wouldn’t be friends with me.” As we continued to the library, Travis explained to me what prejudiced meant. By the time he was done, I wanted to cry. How could someone think that my opinion of them could be based on their skin color?

I guess that’s part of the reason I don’t understand the hate and anger that people are throwing around about this case. As a parent, I feel anger over the not guilty verdict. As a human, I feel sadness over this senseless loss. I don’t understand the anger and hate though.

Over the past couple days, the comments I have read on social media have been outright horrible. Some have even made me cry. My news feed is blowing up with views from both sides of the fence. Many people are posting other crimes that may have been racially motivated, saying why didn’t this have national coverage? Why didn’t Obama make a statement about this? Plain and simple, it’s the media. The media chose to take this case and blow it up. That had nothing to do with the government, the president, anyone else other than the media.

On the flip side, I have heard people call for the death of Zimmerman. Some have even commented that they would like to find him and do it themselves. What is that going to solve? Nothing.

I’m happy to say that these extreme comments are only from a few on my contacts list. It still saddens me to see people I care for so full of anger and hate.

A gentleman on Facebook named Alex Fraser penned this response. I found it to be both insightful and true.

Hopefully, one day race will be a non-issue in America. I often think back to my childhood neighborhood and wish that the whole country could come together as we did. I know one thing for sure. So long as people allow hatred and anger to well up in them at moments like this instead of concern and compassion, things like this will continue to divide us instead of unite us.

Bitch with a Capital “B”

Something has been off inside me. I’m not quite sure what. As someone who normally prides herself in knowing what’s going on in her noggin, this is pretty goddamn unnerving. It’s not one of my usual cycles, so I’m thrown for a loop. Let me give you a few examples of what I’ve been experiencing.

The other night the BF and I are curled up on the couch watching the Dark Night Rises. Awesome flick right? No amount of chick-flick-ness at all. Yet mid movie, I break out in tears. I wasn’t thinking about anything depressing, it wasn’t anything in the movie that triggered it. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY I WAS CRYING. This is so not normal. I only cry when I have a reason and even then I sometimes don’t cry.

Yesterday, I have the creepy crawly feeling. That has happened before, but it’s usually in conjunction with an unpleasant though (or thoughts) as well. I wasn’t thinking anything creepy, I was just trying to write my book.

I have been a Bitch lately. Notice the capital “B”? It’s been that bad. I have no patience with anything and I flux between wanting to be totally alone and being beyond needy. This is also abnormal for me. It sometimes happens in my mixed episodes, but if this is a mixed episode, it’s unlike any I’ve ever experienced before.

Not that anyone cares to hear this, but that wonderful week of the month is coming up, so maybe thats it? It’s not usually like this for that reason either. I’m beyond lost. I was talking about all this with the BF and he decided to try to make a funny. He said, “What if you’re pregnant?” after which he got smacked on the shoulder. Five kids between us is more than enough. Besides, my factory was shut down long ago.

Good news is I cranked out over 2,000 words in the book, bringing the total word count up to almost 6,000. I think what I wrote yesterday is stronger that what I’ve written before. Maybe the emotional turmoil I’m going through is good for the book. Sounds like a good excuse for being a Bitch anyways.

Pavlov and the Universe

Yeah…. It’s been forever since my last post. I suck. I’m not totally sure why it’s been so long either. I have some theories, but who knows if they carry any weight.

This past week or so has been me being sick, again, dealing with kids who have pneumonia, (hurray for the flu turning into something that could potentially kill a person), and my own descent into the darkest parts of me. Yeah, it’s been great.

There is hope though. I’m physically better, kids are on the mend, and I had the best date night tonight! My mood was brightening and I though maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to pull me out of my funk long term. Or at least for a few days. Boy, was I overly hopeful.

Today was a great day. My only regret is that I didn’t spend more time with the kiddos, but with the way I’ve been lately, I’m not sure they would have been all too happy if I had. My batteries have been beyond low and I seem to have a hair trigger these days. To put it bluntly, I’ve been a bitch. Not just an ordinary run of the mill bitch either. A mega bitch. One who breathes fire, has horns, and terrifies all the little people. Kinda like this…

Yeah, yeah. I know it’s a dragon. I couldn’t find a picture of a crazy woman breathing fire who had horns, so please feel free to use your imaginations. Besides, that’s a fairly accurate representation of me the past week. And for those of you out there who may be wondering, no it is not that time of the month for me. I’m also not preggo. That factory was closed down long ago.

When I’m not breathing fire on all the tiny villagers in my home, I’m feeling lost, lonely and really damn needy. I am not typically a needy person. This is so not cool with me. I’ve been up the BF’s ass worse than a hemorrhoid and I feel like crying every ten seconds. This shit is going to make me crazy all on it’s own. I feel like such a girl, and in the worst of ways. Crying makes me feel weak, and I despise feeling weak. Historically, this is when I get shit on most. Kick her while she’s down, right? So I do everything in my power not to show these emotions. Which never works because they always come out in some way, shape, or form. Problem is, I’m too proud to admit that I need to lean on someone hard right now. Typing this is borderline painful right now.

So what to do. If I were talking to one of my kids, I’d say, “You need to tell us what you need. We are not mind readers. If you’re sad, mad, feel like you need something that you’re not getting, you need to let us know. We can’t help you if we don’t know what the problem is and we don’t expect you to deal with everything on your own.” Then I’d wrap them into a hug so amazing, they’d have no choice but to open up to me, because, hey, I’m cool like that.

Funny how I have all this wisdom in my teensy tiny brain to share with others, but not enough common sense to use it for myself. Yes, I am blissfully aware of the irony in this situation. Or is it blissfully unaware? Well, how about whichever makes me sounds like less of a dumbass.

Maybe my unwillingness to show weakness is a bit like Pavlov’s stimulus response. Although, my conditioning is a bit different than salivating on myself. (Okay there was that one time but I was really drunk) My conditioning had been I show vulnerability and I get hurt. Time and time again, this has happened to me. It makes a person nervous. It has nothing to do with my trust in those I love. I trust them all as much as I love them, which is a terrifying amount. I don’t trust that if I reach out my paw hand for help, the universe won’t bitch slap it back into my pocket.

Burn in Hell

It isn’t even 9 am and I feel like screaming. Honestly, screaming is probably the tamest thing running through my head right now. I think if my evil little inner demons had their way, someone would lay broken and bleeding right now. Don’t worry, it’s a specific someone. Someone who I can’t get my hands on without a considerable time to think about it beforehand. A time in which I would talk myself out of eviscerating them and then hanging them by their entrails. But boy, does it feel nice to let those inner demons do their dirty deed in the dark recesses of my mind. It’s amazing that I hate someone this much, but all things considered, this person is pretty lucky to be breathing right now by many accounts. It stuns me how well evil can hide in plain sight. Stuns and sickens me. Sickens me that someone who is so predatory can manage to avoid justice not once, but twice. I suppose I can take solace in the fact that there is a special circle of hell for people like that, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t wish they could experience that hell a whole lot sooner than it seems they might. They’ve already produced a special kind of hell on earth for my family and myself. It only seems fair that they should be punished as well.

I’m so glad I have an appointment with my counselor in a bit. I need to exorcise some of these demons before they consume me.

A Manic’s Struggle with Massacre

There’s something I’ve wanted to touch on for a while now, but couldn’t. Sandy Hook Elementary.

I said I couldn’t. I meant it. And not because I felt I needed to do research on gun control laws to prepare. Not because I wanted to be armed with a bushel full of mental health statistics to show how mental health care in our country needs upgrading. I couldn’t because, just for a while, I was pretending it didn’t happen.

I know what you’re thinking. What a heartless bitch. I don’t know, maybe I am. Please let me explain before you cast your vote.

I’ve been in a rough manic patch since my mixed episode subsided. This is not normal for me as I usually fall into a depression after a M.O. Paranoid thoughts, sleepless nights, a flash temper, auditory hallucinations and more have plagued me as of late. Those closest to me have little insight into what I’m experiencing aside from what directly affects them, such as my temper, because I chose to keep the majority of my issues to myself. When I get in these altered states, I tend to withdraw from those around me because I don’t want them to see my odd behaviors. I also have to distance myself from certain extreme emotions or face the risk of winding up in the hospital.

Enter the Sandy Hook shooting. The moment I heard about what was going on, I was in tears and my mind was racing a million miles. At that point, there wasn’t a whole lot of credible information in the news media, with conflicting reports coming from almost every outlet. The only thing that was certain was there was a shooting and people had died–at an ELEMENTARY school. Instantly, my mind ran with that. I have three little ones who are in elementary school, so of course, my immediate thoughts were about them. Are they safe? Is everything okay with them? The usual mom thoughts, I suppose.

Then paranoia set in. I need to get them. This will happen there too. There’s someone going into their schools right now, I just know it. This is the beginning of the end of the world. I need to get there before they get killed! Why am I sitting here? Will I seem them again? If i don’t get them, they’ll die and it will be all my fault. Life won’t be worth it anymore, if there’s a life left. How could I live with the guilt of knowing I basically had killed my children by not doing anything…

Yeah. You get the idea. Crazy stuff. And that’s just a very small summary of everything I was thinking. At this point, the logical portion of my brain that was trying to talk some sense into the hysterical, paranoid part. The paranoid part was having nothing to do with it. It was too busy doing this.

That’s when good old reliable Logic decided enough was enough. Seeing no other way to get Paranoia to stop her nonsense, Logic decided this was the best course of action.

It took a while, but Paranoia calmed down. They both had a nice long talk and decided that the best way to deal with these things was to not think about them. Less information learned about the events meant Paranoia would have less to run with. (Don’t tell her I said this, but Paranoia is one crazy bitch.)

Okay, back to reality now. In case you missed the point there, my mind was running with the facts I had, as well as those I didn’t, and using it as ammo against my sanity. So I had to back off. I had to distance myself from the media reports and pretend like it hadn’t happened. I did this for myself and my family. If I hadn’t, I don’t know that I would be able to type this right now.

Of course, little facts and media reports have slipped through the cracks. My paranoid mind ran with those, but the were sprints rather than marathons. Taking this a little at a time seems to have made it easier. I still worry about my own kids, but no more than any other parent does in a time like this. Taking time to wall myself in from this has been a good thing. I’m starting to feel a lot better about my ability to handle the details. I’ve even read some reports on it now.

I’m not going to go too much into things, as I’m still keeping the event at arms length, but I do want to clarify a few things. I have mourned for the loss of these children and their educators. This blog may be construed as me saying I felt no grief in that loss. That is not the case. I didn’t distance myself from those feeling, just from the thoughts that my mind made up every time it had a new morsel of detail to work with.

There’s a lot of people saying we need tighter gun laws and better mental health coverage. I agree some changes need to be made, but one thing I feel we should be looking at as well is the media coverage of evens like this. I understand some might argue about freedom of speech, but the reason why many of these mass killers kill in this fashion is because they see it as a way to become famous. A way to be heard in a world where they may not have felt heard. A way to leave a mark on a world they felt they may have left otherwise unmarked. The media has a responsibility to people to stop making spectacles of these monsters. The more they make a fuss about the killer, the more this will happen.

I don’t remember the shooter’s name. I don’t care to either. I remember Victoria Soto, the teacher who put her first grade class into cupboards and told the killer they were in the gym. Dawn Hochsprung, the principal who may have broadcast her final moments over the schools loudspeaker as a warning to others in the building. Anne Marie Murphy, whose body was found over the children in her class. It’s believed she was attempting to shield them from the bullets. Mary Sherlach, who was nearing her 20th anniversary at the school. Lauren Rousseau who has just been hired by the school. Rachel D’Avino, who’s fiance was planning to propose at Christmas.

I remember the smiling faces of those beautiful little ones who are now with the angels. Catherine and her carrot red hair. Chase’s blue eyes. Ana, who had just moved here from Canada. Grace’s pretty smile. Jack’s big grin. Caroline’s generosity. Emilie’s love of art. James’ super cool mow-hawk. Jessie’s cheeks. Dylan’s shaggy hair. Josephine’s silly picture. Olivia’s good grades. Daniel’s missing teeth. Charlotte’s green eyes. Noah’s confident smile. Jessica’s love of horses. Avielle’s sly smile. Benjamin’s brown eyes. Allison’s shyness. Madeleine’s kindness.

These are the people I choose to remember.

Pseudoseizures: A Giant Pain in My ASS (or Rather, My Brain)

So I had all these intense, profound thoughts about immortality yesterday that I wanted to blog and then my brain went and scrambled itself. Stupid pseudoseizure. I need a damn voice recorder. (It was another solo therapy session. Yes, I was taking aloud.. to myself. I’m such a good listener and I always have such amazing things to say, so why wouldn’t I talk to myself?)

Anyways, due to this latest brain scramble, I forgot an important part of my English project. The peer review. Gah! I had everything else completed and that one page is going to cost me a whole letter grade. And that was my final!! I’m just a wee bit pissed at myself right now. Maybe that’s why I can’t bring my amazing immortality monologue to the forefront.

Guess I’ll try to piece it together later. Hopefully it will work because it was friggin awesomesauce.