Monthly Archives: August 2012

When love hurts

    The first time I stood up to an abuser I was 6 years old and it’s a story my mom likes to tell the because I was so cute. My father had come home from work and was taking his bad day out on my mother and I. Me, with my platinum blonde hair and chubby cheeks, stood up to him and said, “Daddy, stop being so crabby!” Over the years the stories had gotten less cute and more the type of stories shared over a bottle of wine with friends.

    Abuse comes in many forms and not all, I’d argue that most abuse never, leaves a physical mark on a person. In my humble opinion, verbal abuse can be one of the most hurtful and longest lasting forms of abuse. A broken bone can mend in weeks, but the self-esteem issues can take YEARS to fix. I’ll fully admit that I can’t remember every place where I was hit, but I still know almost any name that I was called.

    Please understand that I am NOT saying that physical abuse cannot, and does not, leave a long lasting affect. This is just me and what I’ve been through.

    My father wasn’t always abusive and that was a difficult thing to separate in my mind. The man that still walks this earth is not my father, my father hasn’t been around since I was 8 years old. This man is a shell of a person filled with prescription drugs, alcohol, and bitterness. I talk to a lot of people who say, “well she/he wasn’t always this way” or “maybe they’ll go back to the way it was”. A perfect example of this is Rihanna and Chris Brown.  The following is a transcript provided by Jezebel of Rihanna’s recent interview with Oprah.

    R: I have to move on. It happened to me, so I can’t tell people how to feel about it, they’re entitled to feel angry, because it wasn’t a good thing that happened.
    O: But you have forgiven him.
    R: I have. I have. We’ve been working on our friendship again, and now we’re very very close friends, we’ve built a trust… and that’s it. We love each other and we probably always will.
    O: What happens when you see him?
    R: It’s awkward. It’s awkward because I will always love him.

     Thank you, Rihanna for speaking out about this. For every person recovery time varies and it is upsetting when people ask why a person “hasn’t gotten over it”. They won’t “get over it”, they will become a survivor. A survivor is someone who has taken back their power. I hated still being a victim until I left home for college. At college, I became an abuse survivor and can now openly talk about what happened to me. I’ll also say that it wasn’t just my father that was abusive. I was verbally abused by school teachers and other “mental health professionals” when I was growing up.
I am one of those people who will stop a parent from hitting a kid in public or any other act that constitutes as abuse. People ask if I became that way from the trauma I had been through. I can honestly answer no, I was ALWAYS sticking up for the bullied kids in school before I was ever abused. My friends sometimes tease me for being a defender of the weak; I don’t mind it.

     It’s taken me years to fully recover and it’s only recently I have begun to value myself as a person and feel safe. For the first 3 years after we kicked my father out of the house, I would always sleep with a bag packed at the foot of my bed in case I needed to run in the middle of the night. Even today, I know where my important paperwork is and I can pack a bag in less than 10 minutes. I also know how to evade a car that is following me, only happened twice but a very useful skill. I know how to sweep my car for obvious tracking devices and know where the police stations are in my local area(s).

     My life has happened, so far, and overall it’s been wonderful. I don’t like to be pitied for what has happened to me, so I doubt I’ll ever post a sob story about my life. I prefer my stories to be funny, but there is a time for serious things. So to all my friends, know I care about each of you and I want you to be safe.

Remember; if you are ever in a bad situation know that you are not alone. There are others that have gone through similar situations and got out alive. There is help for you in a situation and recovering after. Google is a wonderful tool for finding local resources.
I highly recommend Caring Unlimited as a resource for those in need in Maine.

One of those days

This is one of those days where it is a challenge to be nice to myself.

I like comfort food, it is very…comforting. I don’t always act like an emotional eater, but today I’m kinda losing faith in humanity. I got these cinnamon covered pretzel things with icing, but I couldn’t even eat them all. They were so GROSS. I couldn’t stand to keep eating them.
So I should pat myself on the back more for that. I just thought that I could get out of this CRMA class and head to the gym before my night shift. NOPE. I am currently too upset to work out. Normally I could channel my energy to running, but not today. I went from Amazonian angry to Eeyore depressed with the world in half an hour while my oil was getting changed.

One step forward and… yeah.

I took a class today that will certify me to handle medication in a residential setting. Also, I get fancy initials after my name. I expected the class to be all about medication interactions, drug dosages, ect. Instead I got to hear a terrifying story of the instructor once flashing the town pervert when she was 15 years old  and getting off the school bus with her friends. Like, SERIOUSLY?!

Some people said that they did learn something in the class. They learned we cannot force the disabled, elderly, or you know anyone we work with, to take medication against their will. YES, people have choices in the year 2012. GAH!

So yea, I’m in a bad mood and taking it out on food. I’d rather not, but it’s better than yelling at people for being idiots.

A food journal!
I do kinda hate those, but I need to get back in the habit of really looking at what I am eating. It does work.

Until next time!

What is in a number?

I will NEVER be one of those women who clings to a scale like it is a plate of fettuccine alfredo with lobster. Mmmmm… Okay, I mean I have never focused on fitness with the purpose of losing weight and I’m not about to start this time. For me, losing weight is a byproduct of getting healthier. The numbers I truly care about involve speed, endurance, and lifting weight. *Note* Getting off my butt to get a drink does not count as lifting weight.

I must say, I do think I am in better shape than I give myself credit for. Again, trying to not be so harsh on myself. A LOT of my issues with fitness and health come from the asthma I developed once I packed on a few pounds. In order to get rid of those pounds, I need to work through the asthma. It’s like working through the pain, but sounds less motivational and instead conjures images of chunky World of Warcraft players running on a treadmill. Or maybe that’s just me.

So when you hear/read me talk about fitness, I don’t plan to talk about losing all this weight. I want to RUN. That is one of my biggest and scariest goals. I want to be able to run for a while, like 10-12 miles. Psst, this may mean something.  I know this is an obtaniable goal, I just need to figure out how to do it without overdoing it early on and messing up my body.

Besides running, I’ll also be working on my upper body. Why

  1. Because I need to have a strong upper body to play with my fire staff.
  2. Also, I really want strong sexy arms.

 That’s my plan! Now, off to do something else!

P.S. I’m also aware that diet plays a VERY important part in overall health, and I’ll write about that in a bit.

Here we go again!

I’m sitting in the green room of Lucid Stage, thinking I’ve created more than a dozen blogs in my life and I have kept up with none of them. As I keep reminding myself, this one is going to be different. Not because I’m using the power of positive thinking, but because I decided it. Anyone who knows me knows I am very stubborn. When I want something, I will stop at nothing to get it; come hell or high water or an Iowa winter. The problem is I’ve been floating for the past few weeks months without any real goals or structure.
I need goals,
I like deadlines,
and change thrills me.
So that’s what I’m gonna do, kinda.
In a little more than 18 months I’ll be turning 25. That’s a quarter of a century! Some of my older friends will chastise me and say that I’ll still be a young-one. I know, but I’ll be older.

So in 18 months, in addition to growing older, I hope to accomplish some other things.

  • Get more physically fit. -This will be the simplest and the most difficult.
  • Be less harsh on myself. – I am not always the most…. socially appropriate person in the world and I do goof up. I just need to relax.
  • Try new things. -Vague, I know. 
  • Take my acting life more seriously. -I have been majorly slacking off on this, but I don’t want to.
  • Write!!! -Because I need to.

 Those are just some of the things I will be working on. In addition to those steps towards my future, I’ll be looking back on some of my amazing adventures that I’ve had so far. Some of the names may not be the same to protect the innocent or the stupid, but they will always be my stories.Some of the stories will be

  • How hard is it to take your clothes off: a failed attempt at being strippers. 
  • Hear no evil: being attacked by a monkey in Japan.
  • Dirty white woman: tattoos are not always culturally appropriate. 
  • MmmMoonshine: Why I should not be allowed to taunt ghosts. 
  • Flesh wounds: Why it is not okay to do a fight scene after minor surgery.
  • Escapism: It’s cheaper than therapy.  

Hint: The last one could be a series and may become one.

I told someone at the bar I was planning to do this and they told me a story. I remember some of the details and I found it is an old Jewish folk tale. From Drybones:


A Polish Duke decides to expel all Jews from his lands. The Rabbi and a delegation of Jews go to plead for mercy, but to no avail.
As they turn to leave the Duke’s castle, the rabbi points to the nobleman’s beautiful hunting dog.
“A really impressive animal,” says the rabbi. “Can he speak?” “Of course not” says the Polish Nobleman, “Dogs can’t speak.”
“In one year,” says the rabbi “using my secret Jewish magic, I can teach your dog to speak perfect Polish. In return, all that I ask is peace for the Jews of our little village” .
“Done,” says the nobleman. “If the dog talks in a year, you Jews can stay. But if you fail I will have you killed and your people driven from their homes.”
On the way back home, the frightened Jews shout at the rabbi, “What have you done?! You promised to teach the dog to talk!!? Are you CRAZY?! One year from now the Duke will kill you and drive us from our homes!! “
“Look” explained the Rabbi “He gave me a whole year,”A lot can happen in a whole year. The dog could die. The Duke could die. I could die… and who knows?!! Maybe the dog will learn to speak.”
So maybe I won’t make a dog speak, but I can do a lot.