What's in a daybility part 1

A friend had asked me the other day - what do I do all day long? So, what is it, that I do ALL day long. I will tell you right off the bat, that I do NOT have the homemaker gene at all. I don't cook and cleaning has been very limited due to a work related injury. It has been 6 years and I am still suffering, but I am learning everyday how to cope and to try to manage all of my old tasks. Things take much longer. So, much of my day is consumed by my own demons and thoughts of old ways vs. trying new, longer, and sometimes painful way of doing chores.

It was a cold ice biting evening, but I loved working. I might have loved the independance, the seeing other individuals and having adult conversations, but I really did enjoy my work, my job. The month was March of 2005 and it was a bitter cold night. I arrived 30 - 40 minutes early like every night - I took pride in having my truck ready before the official start of the shift. I hated backups and having to clear jams and I had the busiest truck in the complex. I had helped a few new people in how to check, set-up and start their shift as my supervisor had asked me to. It came time for me to set up my truck and I had no idea that setting up my truck would change the rest of my life forever.

I did all the necessary checking and safety checks and unlocked my stack of rollers (they weigh over 400 lbs) releasing my life changing event. The whole stack of rollers fell about 3ft (400lbs) pinning my left foot to the metal scaffolding. There were 5 or so men, who heard the stack of rollers fall it took all of them to get my leg, out from underneath. It wasn't until several weeks later (after an MRI was done) I was finally diagnosed with a severe crush injury and prognosis was questionable depending on treatment plan. My first surgery was scheduled in October of 2005 (already on 3rd doctor) and all this time I was non-bearing weight (crutches ONLY with a removable cam cast). Thank goodness for workman's compensation (WC) they were so on top of my treatment plan (um, for those who don't know me - this is a sarcastic comment). Finally, in December I was able to take my first painful steps.

9 months of no walking or physical therapy I think sealed the fate of a bleak prognosis. You really can't fix a crush injury, to begin with. My bones didn't break, they gave in (stayed crushed, they didn't bounce back into place) to the force (of 400lbs) and my whole body has to bear weight (that kept increasing by the day) on a very weak foundation that couldn't be rebuilt. There was supposed to be a second and possibly a third surgery to fuse as many bones together in my ankle and foot to create a stronger foundation, but WC kept switching from one doctor to the next, to the next in a 3 year span there were over 10 specialists involved. There was only 1 doctor that thought I was completely faking the injury. Praise the Lord, nobody considered that quacks report, there was too much medical evidence to prove differently.

There was a court case, but no money could replace what was lost that fateful night. The so called case sucked the life out of me, a once active mother of 3 boys was forced to sit on the side line of life to keep watch. I don't live life - I am forced to watch it. I can't make my own medical decision to "make" my life better - WC has to and that money I settled on wouldn't cover the anesthesiologist if I choose to pay for my own treatment, but the reality is; it is too late - these options were offered earlier on - you have to wait for approval and if the next doctor didn't mention the same treatment plan, I had to go along with the new doctor and forget about the doctor that really wanted to help me.

So, here I sit, gaining weight by the minute (probably seconds) and watch the world go by and not a thing I can do about it. My fate was sealed that day, I went to work March 2, 2005. I am on so much medication for every malady one could have. I have aged nearly 40 years in 6 long years. Common things like showering and sleeping are tough and taking on those tasks are difficult. To describe how painful it is to shower (does NO justice) but, a woman can probably compare it to a bikini waxing lasting 15 minutes (just the hair pulling out part, depending on the day, it could make my eyes water). I don't look forward to any day - I wish I could stay asleep for more than 2.5 - 3 hours at a time. I tell people all the time just put an IV in; trank me enough for 6 months - put me in a box and on a shelf - I dream of hibernation.

Up next, Daybility part II. What is in my day? What do I do ALL day long? Has anything changed? but more importantly I will be talking to my readers; here in NJ and how they can help make changes to current WC laws. Right now the law protects the insurance companies, not the patients. You never know if or when a life changing injury will happen, while you are working; are you and your family prepared? Until next time...

Someone's Hero

On a sunny spring day, birds are chipping away at the dawn of a new day. My feet nervously hit the floor for the pain that is about to hit like a Mack truck. It takes a few minutes to get used to my legs as I take my shower, get dressed for success for the day to come. I walk through my empty kitchen as I pick up the whirlwind of three tornados that had left minutes earlier. The dogs are disappointed in having to go into their crate, like every weekday - I assure them the boys will be home early. I murmur a prayer to God to get me through the day - I wouldn't have any IEP meetings, nor any meetings - not today, TODAY would be the day I become a hero.

I have been guiding young lads and ladies to go off to college to be their own success and also guiding individuals needing special educational plans to give everything their best for success. I love my job, dedicated to helping young adults merge into society as prospects for a great future - a future I am going to grow old in. However, today would be different, today I plan on being someones hero.

I have gone over this all in my head, day after day, and today has been planned; what seems all of my life - I drive the two hours and recite my speech from memory, but it won't be the same when there will be literally thousands of people, reporters, tv news crews, and then the gossip people, they call themselves a reporter - I know differently. They are going to make me look bad at every angle they can - it is their job and well, I have to do mine.

I have been on the road a long time, but the beautiful scents that spring is here, is a very freeing thought. My imagination is running wildly, that I miss a turn and I start to unravel just a bit. Then as fear seeps through me as I realize I am lost, then I see it - my worst nightmare is happening in front of me.

This is what needs to change, this is what I put my whole heart and soul into. I see a group of young kids surrounding a very scared boy. They are yelling at him, as the poor child is sobbing, then they lurch at him and laugh as he fell to the ground, and off in the distance is an adult it appears she sees what is going on, she will run over to the boy's aid and get these unruly kids into the school principal's office to face some sort of punishment. Now, the group of kids are taunting the boy and the adult turns her back and walks further away. I honk my horn to no avail. I have to go in - Just as I get out of the car, the kids all scatter, leaving behind a frightened boy with no self esteem. I try to get over to him and he sulks off and mixes with all the other students. Hurt that I wasn't the hero for that child, I stuff myself back into my car and I am more determined - to be someones hero.

The Press Conference is set to happen at Noon, I am so anxious my feet can barely stay in my shoes. The press secretary introduces the Governor and the Governor states the reason for the press release and announces my name. My whole life has come to this - this very nauseous moment - everyone MUST be able to see my heart pounding out of my chest as I stride carefully up the steps towards the podium. I was a nobody... until this very moment.

What??? I want the same things as everyone else - World Peace. Well, on a really small scale actually. You see, society has created this law that everyone is entitled to a free education. How many of you come to realize that the free education your children are entitled to is run like the survival of the fittest? Well, if you haven't given that a thought, think again. Kids are cruel and if you don't fit in - you will pecked to death, by insults, threats, pushing, shoving, teasing, etc. My goal of today is to get the ADULTS, parents, teachers, staff, etc. to recognize the pattern of bullying and take an active role in getting those students into programs and or special anger management schools. There would be rules for the adults as well. Any adult that turns a shoulder to any bullying, is grounds for dismissal of active teaching duties, until a proper investigation is done. The press conference goes very well, there is a plan in place, to protect all children. Child abuse is illegal, why would it be different if a peer was abusing a fellow peer - abuse is exactly abuse. It shouldn't have any prejudices, but it does. This is the legacy I want to lead - stop bullying, stop child abuse among same aged peers. What is illegal for one group, should be illegal across all the groups.

Well, this is what my dream my legacy I wish to leave behind, would look like - EVERY child getting a FREE and SAFE education; that is not survival of the fittest. God would want this for all of his children, I believe in it and I do have plans on finishing my masters and try to leave a legacy behind that would make it possible for me to be "Someone's Hero"

What would you want your legacy to be? what do you want to be remembered for? What kind of hero are you waiting for or inspiring to be?

On account of abuse pt. #3.

Foster family #4 is now, known as my MOM and DAD. Yes, they adopted me, but they deserve nothing less than to be called my MOM and DAD, because they had a shell of an 8 year old (I weighed 32.4 pounds at 8 years and 3 months) little girl that was frightened and terrified of EVERYTHING and EVERYONE. I hid under the table at every noise and sound, retreated to the same place when I got a boo boo (got blood everywhere and mom wasn't too happy about it on her carpet, I just didn't want that band aid), refused alone time with my dad, after all, "all love from a man is going to hurt" and I wanted no part of it.

Now this is the extreme short story. My records are a staggering 10 pound pile of papers, the abuse from my step-dad is NOT in any reports, so it is uncertain if bio mom knew or hid the information, but I do remember. My mom insists there is more to my records than my 10 pound pile. For the 1970's this is really unheard of, things weren't kept on record or at least NOT to this magnitude. The fact, that I have records is in itself amazing.

I have a really close relationship with my bio aunt to this day and to me this is the only way for me to heal. I was apparently to her - EVERYTHING. I have trouble to this day believeing that I meant SOMETHING to someone, not to mention that she is a piece of my TRUE biological family.

They say everything is relative to something and I guess the abuse had a negative impact, thus creating relativness in my life. But, I don't think I am a negative spark in life that people made me out to be. I suppose I could have crawled in a hole and died like everyone wanted me to. I guess I could beat my kids into submission to be obiediant and submissive and not suffer through all the disorganization in my life. I guess I could just leave and let other people just deal with the mess I have made of things. I guess I could do all of this stuff because it is expected of me NOT to prevail and break through the walls of my hellish life. But, no people still often see me as a negative force (they probably won't read this, well, because I am smart STRONG enough not to let them back into my life) and all I want to say is that - I am a constant piece of work, everyday is a struggle and everyday is a day to work on something I am facing that would have been enough to place me in a padded room several years ago (remember BC, before children). I have to admit - I have a hard time making and keeping friends. I have never trusted anyone long enough to try (with the exception of my huband) and I probably won't ever to be able to. I do have friends, but they are always kept at an arms distance away, I never call and invite ANYONE to hang out for a day, I NEVER hang out with a friend to just hang out and be women on a mission of fun, I never do girls day or night. I wouldn't know what to do, what to say, but my most prized relationship is with my husband. He has been my best friend for more than half my life and even after 16 years of wedded bliss we are very happily married. Having kids definitely has dented my ability to think I can, I think I can. But, then again, a few of my friends say they go through the same thing and they say they had a "normal" upbringing. So, do I dare say I am "normal" - Well, I don't dare venture to the "normal" side of things, just as I won't allow myself to hang out on a chance. I will keep thinking things through, rationalize if, what, when, and how and by the grace of God live beyond what the statistics said or continues to show about people "who were abused."

To my friends who read this, what is there for me to say other than, I am sorry. Some of you know I was abused, but I guess, I just never put myself out there to trust in you or our friendship (I am sorry). There are so many other things I wanted to discuss and shovel this as far away from the surface as I could, I just want "normal" conversations. The other aspect really is nothing other than I never wanted to recount thy ways of growing up. I never wanted or anticipated that I could be so public about this pain - it just happened. Yeah, I was never going to recount thy ways of said endured abuse. I just pray you are able to forgive me.

For those just joining, my blog will NOT discuss child abuse or surviving it. This is a one time 3 part post and I am planning on moving on from here. I have left out names for a reason, please don't try to figure out if I am a long lost sibling or you think you may be bio mom, because I have ZERO interest in getting to know a person that HAD the capability to HATE their own offspring. I have an ANGER burning inside me regarding my bio mom and have NO interest in her, what SHE was going through, nor do I feel that she have any right or need to explain her side. She beat her side into me for years on end, even after several separations. I have a MOM and my MOM loves and cares for me. I have a link to my bio family and that is good enough, thank you auntie. I have loved making memories and traditions with you and your own family and I think my kids have too. (please don't repond here, send private email) Sign up with a false name, Elmer Fudd would be good, LOL and respond away. Anyway...


Do all the good you can... To all you can... and as often as you can... Blessings, Diane

P.S. There were so many questions and I am not going to answer them individually, I am hoping my honesty will answer the many questions you had. Feel free to leave comments, but this will be my FINAL post about my abused living.

P.S.S. I will not answer questions, nor do I want to share this to make a book deal - ARE you for real??? go away. The only person that is going to write a book about this will be ME and NO ONE else. Be gone with you I say - I vanquish you to sick city - to relish in someone else's pain - you got issues.

On account of abuse pt. #2

The reports indicate that I flourished with foster family #1 and I was a joy in the home. At some point the state returned me back to bio mom, because she had met the terms and conditions for me to return home. Bad mistake, I am able to remember at this point *** please, don't read if you are super sensitive*** Abuse alert***abuse alert******

I remember being shoved outside during really bad thunderstorms, all doors locked and can't get back in, socks shoved in my mouth secured with band aids, my bedroom door had been cut at the bottom enough so that SOME food on a tray (when bio mom felt she HAD to feed me) could be slipped under the door, baby powder crammed down my mouth and throat, my ears would bleed at random (I probably blocked out severe physical punishments that preceded the bleeding, so the therapist believed back then), then I have this huge fear of needles (there aren't any notes, but it is believed that I was tortured with safety pins for fun, especially at diaper changes when I was a baby). A report tells and supports most of STRANGE and SEVERE fears and goes on to say a neighbor called police not once, not twice, not even three times - it was FIVE times folks, before the POLICE finally responded to desperate pleas of a screaming three year old being left out in a dangerous thunderstorm unattended and fingers bloody trying to get into the house. I was emaciated, bruised and battered, very scared, little girl. Bio mom went to retrieve me from the officers and I would NOT let go of one of the officers. Bio mom tried all her might to get me and even hit me a few times and the officers, called home base explained my condition and the state removed me from the home indefinitely AND IMMEDIATELY.

Foster home #2 This was a temporary placement and don't remember much. The reports state that I had many trust issues and separation anxiety. It was too much for the family so onto foster family #3.

I remember this family like it was yesterday. They had plans to adopt me and they had included my visits from bio dads side of the family. I was flourishing and working out the issues that had been, well beaten into me. Behind the scenes (I didn't really understand even when I was 18 and able to read through everything) the state didn't want me to return to bio mom. The state did I guess everything they could. They were able to convince my bio mom to tell bio dad that this nice family was going to adopt me (of course, they somewhat knew because they were secretly visiting me) so my bio dad signed the papers. Woohoo, I am going to be adopted by this really awesome and nice family. My new father took a job overseas and bio dad signed me over and bio mom said she would too, so off to England we went. I was sooo happy, as long as you didn't try to put a band aid on me, get out a pin or needle, and it was sunny outside, plus I am guessing other issues. I am not sure how much time passed, because I was just such a happy little girl, but my new mom was sick, we had to return to the states for her treatment and well, I was so needy due to all of my fears and my new mom, needed me to be placed in a temporary foster home while she faced her illness. The state agreed that would be the best for me, because I was such a velcro child and my mom needed some rest. The state promised that I would be returned to foster family #3 when my new mom felt better. At some point, the state finds out that bio mom didn't sign her rights over, like she agreed to and were left with no choice. You got it, I legally had to be returned to the monster.

I fought like bloody hell, and remember seeing the social worker crying and trying to encourage my return to bio mom. I am now almost 6 and back home I have a new dad and a NEW BROTHER (it is obvious I had been with foster family #3 a few years). It didn't take long before things returned to normal, me locked in my room 24/7 no human contact for weeks and weeks at a time. Thrown outside during thunderstorms, but now I was smarter and would go to a house where the people would feed me, dry my clothes, and just plain care about me - oh, yeah they had kids too around my age. They told me (when I visited them when I was 20 yrs old) that they called the police many times to report the bleeding ears, my emaciated body frame, the bruises, and just to get them out to save me - the police didn't do anything. At some point, my new step-dad had taken a HUGE interest in me, at first, I liked it - until he started hurting me (this type of abuse, I was NOT used). This man hurt me a lot, but he always told me, "it was supposed to; that is how love is; and that this "alone" time was our secret" I didn't know I was only 6 (just in case, you don't understand this man sexually abused me, when I WAS only 6 years old). How does a child, a baby of 6 years come out of this unscathed?

Things started to escalate in the home, I was barely ever allowed out of my room, unless step-dad thought we should have our "alone" time when my bio mom left. Then all of a sudden bio dad didn't even want me (he left bio mom and wanted a divorce, which I took the abuse for because apparently, it was my fault - remember the secret, maybe she found out (I will never know))- what in the world did I do? Then bizarre things happened, I was given baths regularly, people visiting all the time, I was able to play with my new brother, and life seemed ok. We had a black dog named Happy and I loved him, the next thing I know I find myself outside, yet again in a severe thunderstorm and found refuge in the dog house (It felt like days). The house is locked (like that is new information), but this time is different - nobody is home. I fell asleep in the dog house (now this could have been a nap - I don't know or remember if it was night sleeping) but, the police came. They wanted me to come out of the dog house and I remember I wouldn't obey, but why? I don't remember. It took hours and hours to convince me that I would be safe from here on out (according to records they tried everything for hours to regain my trust). The state welfare division was on site too, WOW this must be really important for them to be there (remember this was the 1970's). I was promised that I would be loved forever and all I could think is foster family #3 - I was going home. I was so upset that I wasn't going to foster #3, but they said they were working on it and another family was going to care for me. Foster family #4.

To be continued in On account of abuse pt. #3

On account of abuse pt.#1 ***for those who question - why and how***

Yesterday was I guess a reflection day for me. I don't know what made me write that piece and I take nothing back, because I have never been so honest in my life as to how "I FEEL" or how "PEOPLE have MADE me feel." If I were to judge anything - it would be that today "PEOPLE don't feel that way about me," (just based on my private e-mail inbox, so thank you) but, the pain is so much more than skin deep. Are you ready? the plan is go into the depth of the abuse I remember, what is on file, and what I was told by my biological family. Small print ***this may not be a read for everyone*** there will be accounts of severe physical, emotional, and sexual abuse*** not for people who upset easily.

The year of the marriage was 1965, and oddly enough my adopted mother was born on June 12, which was the date of the marriage 6/12/1965. After suffering many miscarriages, my bio mom was placed on DES after finding out she was pregnant (with me) and unfortunately, I was born in 1968, SEVERAL months early. Obviously, I wouldn't remember the abuse, however, I was reunited with my birth father's side of the family several months before I married in 1994. I was told in a heart to heart discussion with my bio father that - "He didn't want to leave me with her (bio mom), but he felt it would be better to leave me than to keep reminding bio mom of the failed marriage." I guess being knocked unconscious, while I was eating was a good indication to leave me there with her! OK!!! Bio dad was told that she couldn't handle me (I was NOT even walking yet) and she wanted bio dad to sign his rights over. When bio dad, didn't the reports indicate I endured a great deal of neglect & physical abuse. Off to foster family 1. I don't remember, of course.

To be continued in "On account of abuse pt.#2.

Happiness - Truth or Dare in life???? Not for the emotional person

Happiness is it all relative? and if it is what is it relative to? I mean I think I have everyththing in life that any ordinary person should be happy with. I have the american dream, the house, the dog, the kids, the perfect husband, plus many extras. And yet, I feel my life is nothing more than a suicidal train wreck waiting to happen.

I just hate everything about me, my life and where I am going. I don't know where to begin. So, as I relive almost every aspect of my life daily - I figure that maybe if I get this off my mind, off my chest, or just anything besides me reLIVING any portion of my life BC (before Children) that maybe, just maybe my life can stop haunting me.

I spend many hours thinking and processing issues - trying to make things better, not for me, but for my kids. You see my life started off bad. I was born into a bad marriage after several miscarriages, to a woman who held a grudge against, the fact, that I didn't have a penis, and to a man that not only had the balls to walk out on me once while my mother knocked me unconscious and beat the living crap out of me while I was in my high chair eating, but also as an adult trying to piece my life together (yes, people he left me high and dry TWICE).

Not to many people know what happened to me early in life, yeah; you may know I was abused, but the story is a lot more than just skin deep - it is about ME living in fear of abusing others. I feel I have to justify EVERYTHING I do, not to anyone, but ME. I rationalize EVERYTHING. Why am I doing this? who is this going benefit? and what for? how do I get there? what could become if I don't do it this way or that way? and is there other ways to the same end? I criticize EVERYTHING I do and say; I often look stupid, because my comeback wasn't swift or witty.

As I sit and watch some of the TV shows (true events) I sit in awe of some of the excuses the victimizer gives to the judge or the lawyers as to why they did what they did. Because I know what it is like to sit on the OTHER end. I had a really shitty beginning to my life and as I got older I was STILL victimized to the point of wanting to commit suicide. So not only did MY OWN BIRTH MOTHER hate me, I was taught that EVERYONE around me hated me too. Where is a person to go feeling like nobody wants them around??? Did you all want me to crawl into a hole and die?? So forgive me, if I just don't show happiness day in and day out, because naturally; everyone taught me to hate everything human. You all know who you are, and regardless, of what or who you are today your actions still have left DEEP wounds and have had a PROFOUND effect on my own family. You may think "I am not the same person I was back then", you may have grown up, but I still see the evil and the wickedness of YOUR ways - in my mind ~ you are still an ABUSER, a victimizer, a bully, and every bad word that comes to my mind. That has been engrained into my brain - At this point, I don't even know "I am sorry, please forgive me" would be enough to change my lifeforce into a happy thought. I guess it is never to late to ask for forgivness, but all I am saying is that freeing you from your wickedness is not my top priority nor would it change how I feel about my life, because after all I was trained into thinking "Nobody wanted me" ***sniff*** ****sniff****

To name the abuse I endured as a baby - A BABY (not just a toddler, a child, an innocent BABY), a toddler, and then as a young child; would earn my biological mother a spot close to death row in today's time. Since, I am still here and not dead, (like she was hoping for) she would have been living in a jail cell, sleeping in a warm bed, being fed cooked meals 3 times a day, plus snacks, free clothing provided, free healthcare, and free everything. To be fair, my birth mother was NEVER jailed for the abuse she inflicted on me (today she might have been), but re-read what I wrote. Going to jail is like; a get out of society free card. I mean going to bed not worrying if there is enough money at the end of the month to pay a mortgage or rent is a freeing thought, is it not? I mean if you are sentenced to life - you KNOW there is a warm bed waiting for you - it isn't dependent on the thought did I make enough money to pay the roof over my head. The meals - who wouldn't enjoy eating out every night or having someone else cook or make ALL of your meals and then to get up place a tray on a counter for it to disappear no clean up (freeing thought is it not?), the clothing is not trendy, but it is there nonetheless, and finally the healthcare. It must be nice, to be able to see a doctor for every sniffle or health concern. What kind of punishment is jail??

I struggle in every aspect of my life, and people in jail well, we the people of society support their every need. Meanwhile, the victims are left to try at everything - no help for the weary, but plenty of help for the wicked. So is happiness relative?? is it what you make of it??? Because as I see it I have to plow down these walls everyday just to be able to get up in the morning. Then I have to worry about, did I make the kids happy?, what are we going to be able to afford to put on the table to eat tonight?, are the kids having the best chance at a happy life?, don't tell anyone we got the best darn bargain at the goodwill store for those nice pants!, how can I make the kids remember all the special parts of our family?, and make them understand, it is just a cold, we don't need a doctor to tell me that your sick - let's give it a few days and see how you feel.

EVERYTHING is a struggle for me. I mean jail seems to be an escape from all worries and the people who were victimized are being punished and have to suffer daily on how to live on from the moment ... "all hell broke loose". I just don't see how it is ok, for people to "MAKE" someones life a LIVING HELL by abusing them in any form and get the freedom of "no worries" in jail. I am plagued by every worry, it would be nice to have a freedom away from this "hellish hole" people call life. How do people live with themselves? Is happiness relative? and to what? I don't know happiness - I am well versed in teasing and being bullied, with a specialty in not being wanted, by anyone even my own mother. You ask how does a person come back from that? I don't know, I haven't yet, but I have a plan to try to help others ...

Do all the good you can, as often as you can, to who ever you can - you may make a difference in someone's life. God bless