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When a Crazy Racist Comes a Knockin’…

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Ignorance Racism Denial Whites Only Group

“Crazy” is like a vampire. When it knocks on your door you have to invite it in and it won’t leave until it sucks the life out of you.

That said, this week “crazy” came knocking and I let it in – metaphorically- and left me drained, shaking my head in amazement and so many other feelings I haven’t even begun to process. When Crazy knocked, I missed a big opportunity to “stretch” into becoming a better person because I let it drag me down a bit. I am inclined to say that once you hear this story, you won’t blame me so here’s it is. It’s a long one, but trust me… it’s very entertaining and I’m sure you will find holds some lessons for all of us.

First. a little backstory.

I met someone on the Internet about 3 years ago and went out on a date with her. I really wasn’t interested in her for various reasons the most annoying being that she had this exhausting way of making a lot of words come out of her mouth without actually saying anything. The more words came out of her mouth, the more I got a physical reaction that was akin to being literally drained. Being in her presence was literally tiring.
After we parted ways, a few friendly emails were exchanged, but I had no interest in going out with her again. Time went on and about 3 years passed and one day, out of the blue, I get an email from her asking me to go to the Aquarium with this lesbian Meetup group. I guess the years had fogged my memory so I agreed to go.

The day of the Aquarium trip, I met the Meetup group and was thankful for their presence when my “date” showed up and the tons nonsensical words starting coming out of her mouth. I was immediately reminded why I hadn’t wanted to see her again after our first meeting. All the words! Words! Words that were coming out of her mouth didn’t make any sense and I felt that feeling of exhaustion come over me.

So… the trip to the Aquarium was about 4 months ago and because my memory was jarred, that was that – until I received an email from her 2 days ago.

Here it is (verbatim):  Read more... (3092 words, 10 images, estimated 12:22 mins reading time)

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Pick Your Heroes Wisely

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Pick Your Heroes Wisely Fandha Happiness Success Image

This week was the 40th anniversary of Woodstock and I was reminded that there was a period in my life when all the heroes in my life were celebrities who had died of drug-overdoses. In my mind, I identified with Janis Joplin who splashed her pain so unapologetically all over the stage and drank alcohol with the essence of one pouring antiseptic on an open wound. Now that I look back with a sober mind, I chuckle and find that pretty telling. Upon reflection I have come to understand my veneration of such open and blatant self-destruction and my emulation of such tendencies as really a cry for help from a person (me) who felt utterly and hopelessly powerless to be comfortable in my own skin.I

In my unconscious mind, I hoped that somewhere, someone would swoop down and save me from myself.  My low self-esteem was a torment no matter how many times people tried to talk me off its ledge. There aren’t enough compliments or expressions of love in the world for someone who doesn’t love themselves.

Friends would say to me, “you look pretty” and I would actually disagree and try to talk them out of their opinion. If someone gave me a compliment, I would counter with numerous other reasons why they were wrong and how I actually didn’t deserve their accolades.

The truth is that somewhere in my heart, I wanted to believe them.  In a way, I was fishing for compliments, but like a black hole of need, anyone’s kind words got sucked into the void and would never register in my heart or head. I took a compliment as a call for debate.  If we went back and forth with “point/counterpoint” in regard to my good/bad points, perhaps, eventually I would be talked into seeing myself the way other people saw me and I would suddenly agree…”hey! You’re right! I do deserve love and happiness!”

I didn’t understand that like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz… I had the power to free myself all along.  Read more... (787 words, 10 images, estimated 3:09 mins reading time)

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Encourage Yourself to KUTGW!

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KUTGW Random Facts About Positive ThinkingRandom Facts About Positive Thinking.

I don’t know anyone who spends more time and effort on maintaining a positive attitude than myself.   I’m not patting myself on the back, but just stating a fact.   And it’s not out of any virtue that I must exert so much effort on a how to be happy, it is purely out of necessity.   In the past, I lived many days of my life in emotional, psychological and spiritual pain.  I am fortunate enough to have survived those years where I was my own worst enemy.  The only reason I am able to enjoy my life today is because I finally understood that my thoughts were killing me and took action to change them.
Sometimes, I wish I could be like other people and merely “just be happy.”

But I am not like other people.  I am not a naturally happy person… I mean… I do believe that I was born happy but I grew up in a violent and dysfunctional household and therefore negativity became my knee-jerk reaction to life.   I am not saying that to point fingers or to get sympathy although I did that for many years.   For years, I used my dysfunctional childhood as a crutch that I beat everyone over the head with when they challenged my negativity or bad behavior.  I also used it as an excuse to not do anything about my life.   I felt powerless.  On the ship of happiness I wasn’t a member of the crew, or even a passenger, but merely dead weight in the hold.
Understanding that negativity is a habit that diminished the quality of my life finally gave me the freedom to do something about it – but there is work to be done.
Just like a diabetic must monitor their diet and take insulin, I must monitor my thoughts and behavior.  A diabetic might curse their fate, wishing that they didn’t have to be so vigilant. But as long as they continue to maintain their life saving routine, they will continue to feel the healthy benefits.  Read more... (702 words, 10 images, estimated 2:48 mins reading time)

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Thank a Mentor

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Mentor Seagull Image - How to be happyNine years ago, I came home from work to find my answering machine filled up with messages. Some were from people I hadn’t heard from in a long time saying things like, “Tara. Call me. It’s about Katrina.”

Since Katrina and I are both in recovery from addiction, my first thought was, “please… someone just tell me that she relapsed.” In my gut I knew that the truth was far worse and it was soon confirmed. She had suffered an aneurism and was now laying brain dead in a Staten Island hospital.

Her name was Katrina Devita. She was 42 years old when she died suddenly. More than a friend, she was a mentor.

I met her when I was 25 years old, deeply caught in the hopelessness and pain of active addiction. She had about 5 years clean and I was unsuccessfully struggling to put 24 hours in a row without using drugs together. She had had her own struggles, having once been homeless on the streets of Chico CA, at the time that we met she was studying to be a nurse while raising two kids all by herself.

I didn’t like her at first. She was nosy, bossy and had a lot of strong opinions. Come to think of it, we had a lot in common.

My 25-year-old self was filled with sadness, anger and self-destruction. I didn’t want to be in pain, but I didn’t know how not to be in pain. My attitude at the time was, “Life sucks. Convince me that I want to live.” I was a lot of work.

Perhaps because she saw herself in me, Katrina stepped up and became my Guardian angel. Never in my life had someone understood me so deeply. I remember talking to her on the phone for the first time and wondering if she was psychic. I didn’t understand how she could know me so well. Now I know that she understood my pain. I was not so unique as I thought. She had been where I was and knew that path. She was further down the path and had been fortunate enough to take road of recovery when she came to the fork in the road. Now she was holding a lamp and trying to guide me in that direction.

I didn’t go too willingly but she never gave up. For two years I struggled but Katrina never abandoned me. She spoke to me endlessly on the phone, she sewed my ripped clothes, she fed me and let me crash on her couch when no one else would have me. I became her shadow and all the while she spoke to me about the way life could be if I stopped hurting myself.

What ensued was an EXTREMELY long growth process and the direction wasn’t always “up!”

As we got to know each other more, our conversations naturally got deeper and more personal. I allowed myself to trust her – something I had stopped doing out of necessity and survival.

It is often said that religion is for people who are afraid of Hell and spirituality is for those who have already been there. This was the case with Katrina. I remember telling her that I didn’t think I would ever get clean because I didn’t believe in God.

“Native Americans believe that when we throw a rock across a river, we change the course of the river.”

She replied.  Read more... (1599 words, 10 images, estimated 6:24 mins reading time)

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Sociopath Survival – A Personal Story

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Sociopath ImageWith the release of Mary Jo Buttafuoco’s book, Getting It Through My Thick Skull: Why I Stayed, What I Learned, and What Millions of People Involved with Sociopaths Need to Know in where she (as the title says) calls her ex-husband Joey a sociopath, there has been a lot of talk about what exactly a sociopath is.

Now labeled under the DSM-IV as Antisocial Personality Disorder, lay people often assume that the term “Sociopath” refers only to people who kill.

True, many killers are sociopaths but not all sociopaths are killers.

I have some experience with this too because in my psyche 101 analysis, I believe that my mother was (and is) a sociopath.   She possesses a complete lack of empathy or concern for others and only engages with people as far as it goes to get something from them.  For one example, when I was in a serious car accident in 2006 in which I broke my neck in 2 places, my mother didn’t even pick up the phone to inquire about my well-being.   It didn’t even cross her mind.  That’s just her – and it is only one small example.  I have many more examples that can (and hopefully will) fill a book one day (a funny one… don’t worry… tragedy=comedy).    I understand this kind of behavior in the present but it sure did a number on me while I was growing up, as it is apt to do when people get involved with sociopaths.

Let’s get real.  Most people know or encounter sociopaths in their daily lives.   We can’t help it.   They live among us.  Our interactions with them often leave us baffled, hurt and wondering what happened.  According to Dr. Martha Stout, a Harvard psychologist and author of  “The Sociopath Next Door,” about 4 percent of the population (1 in 25) is someone who lives in this world without a conscience.  They can’t help it either.  They were born that way.

What this means to us is that he or she has no ability to feel “gut-checking” emotions that guide and censor behavior such as shame, guilt and remorse.

A sociopath cannot empathize, cannot feel anyone else’s feelings, including his or her own.   This differentiates a sociopath from someone with narcissistic personality disorder as a narcissist can feel his or her own feelings deeply, but has an absolute inability to feel or have empathy for anyone else.

In the aftermath of encounters with such people, we are left only with the painful memories and the psychiatrist’s bills as we try and pull our lives back together.  Read more... (1900 words, 11 images, estimated 7:36 mins reading time)

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