It was my family doctor that suggested to me that I begin to use this blog as a journal. That advice came along with his refusal to prescribe anti-depressants and insisting I go into therapy instead - early last year.
He’s the very first medical professional that has ever handled me properly. Too many so-called ‘ Doctors ‘ only have care extended from their hearts and conscience enough to - simply - shove pills at patients - chemicals that will merely have them withdrawing their lives into a corner somewhere - and just being quiet. Easy bonus money at the back doors with all those kick-backs from the pharmaceuticals.
And human beings are left as zombies to pacify the rest of this world. God forbid any of all others be made to feel uncomfortable by having to face and deal with truth and honesty over issues that they may have to accept - at least partial - responsibility for creating.
“ Shhhhh… let’s just forgive and move on. It’ll give you peace in your life. “
You know what’s really being said there?
“ Shut up and just stuff it - sweep it under the carpet so I don’t have to look at it - and face my part in any of it. “
More and more - I’m beginning to understand the amount of strength I have - despite how tired and fed up I am from the life of chewing brick walls I have endured - and survived - just to get to where I am in my life today.
My family doctor handled me correctly. Although his ‘ medicine ‘ has been the most difficult I’ve ever survived. With each visit - we begin tearing layers away. Trust me - it is nothing like a trip to Disney World.
As for my Therapist - he confirms my family physician's diagnosis and agrees with the treatment. According to both professionals - I have needed anti-depressants for only two major traumas occurring in my life - and only needed them for a few months - at most.
Beyond that - I only needed therapy to help me learn how to get back in somebody's face and make them own their stuff - something I continue working on in therapy today.
More and more - in the year I will be turning 51 years old - I am only now discovering more about who truly loves/loved me - and who - honestly - has not - during all these years.
Today was supposed to be my father’s birthday - ( my birth father ).
I really never got to know him - not like his first child should have been allowed - anyway.
I only remember seeing my father for the very first time when I was 16. Life got even worse after that.
I was never allowed to use my name given to me at birth.
I was 30 years old when my mother and my father reunited and remarried.
By the time I remarried - in 2002 - I was already living in East Tennessee with my husband and youngest daughter.
They chose to move from California - and move to Texas - where ‘all the grandkids ‘ live.
And he always said he wanted to come visit Tennessee.
That never happened.
The last thing I remember about him - he mailed a birthday card to me - in 2006 - during the last week of August.
He knew my birthday was during the last week of September.
And he had never handled the part about mailing cards to me - before.
He died a few weeks later - a few days before my birthday.
He was cremated before I could even get on a plane and get down there.
All the way to the very end.
But the end of this story is - I’m supposed to be happy enough to know - ‘ third party information ‘ - that he loved me. And then there’s the part about - ‘ Now he can visit you in East Tennessee all the time. “
Of course.
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Wednesday, July 7, 2010
My Father's Birthday
It was my family doctor that suggested to me that I begin to use this blog as a journal. That advice came along with his refusal to prescribe anti-depressants and insisting I go into therapy instead - early last year.
He’s the very first medical professional that has ever handled me properly. Too many so-called ‘ Doctors ‘ only have care extended from their hearts and conscience enough to - simply - shove pills at patients - chemicals that will merely have them withdrawing their lives into a corner somewhere - and just being quiet. Easy bonus money at the back doors with all those kick-backs from the pharmaceuticals.
And human beings are left as zombies to pacify the rest of this world. God forbid any of all others be made to feel uncomfortable by having to face and deal with truth and honesty over issues that they may have to accept - at least partial - responsibility for creating.
“ Shhhhh… let’s just forgive and move on. It’ll give you peace in your life. “
You know what’s really being said there?
“ Shut up and just stuff it - sweep it under the carpet so I don’t have to look at it - and face my part in any of it. “
More and more - I’m beginning to understand the amount of strength I have - despite how tired and fed up I am from the life of chewing brick walls I have endured - and survived - just to get to where I am in my life today.
My family doctor handled me correctly. Although his ‘ medicine ‘ has been the most difficult I’ve ever survived. With each visit - we begin tearing layers away. Trust me - it is nothing like a trip to Disney World.
As for my Therapist - he confirms my family physician's diagnosis and agrees with the treatment. According to both professionals - I have needed anti-depressants for only two major traumas occurring in my life - and only needed them for a few months - at most.
Beyond that - I only needed therapy to help me learn how to get back in somebody's face and make them own their stuff - something I continue working on in therapy today.
More and more - in the year I will be turning 51 years old - I am only now discovering more about who truly loves/loved me - and who - honestly - has not - during all these years.
Today was supposed to be my father’s birthday - ( my birth father ).
I really never got to know him - not like his first child should have been allowed - anyway.
I only remember seeing my father for the very first time when I was 16. Life got even worse after that.
I was never allowed to use my name given to me at birth.
I was 30 years old when my mother and my father reunited and remarried.
By the time I remarried - in 2002 - I was already living in East Tennessee with my husband and youngest daughter.
They chose to move from California - and move to Texas - where ‘all the grandkids ‘ live.
And he always said he wanted to come visit Tennessee.
That never happened.
The last thing I remember about him - he mailed a birthday card to me - in 2006 - during the last week of August.
He knew my birthday was during the last week of September.
And he had never handled the part about mailing cards to me - before.
He died a few weeks later - a few days before my birthday.
He was cremated before I could even get on a plane and get down there.
All the way to the very end.
But the end of this story is - I’m supposed to be happy enough to know - ‘ third party information ‘ - that he loved me. And then there’s the part about - ‘ Now he can visit you in East Tennessee all the time. “
Of course.
He’s the very first medical professional that has ever handled me properly. Too many so-called ‘ Doctors ‘ only have care extended from their hearts and conscience enough to - simply - shove pills at patients - chemicals that will merely have them withdrawing their lives into a corner somewhere - and just being quiet. Easy bonus money at the back doors with all those kick-backs from the pharmaceuticals.
And human beings are left as zombies to pacify the rest of this world. God forbid any of all others be made to feel uncomfortable by having to face and deal with truth and honesty over issues that they may have to accept - at least partial - responsibility for creating.
“ Shhhhh… let’s just forgive and move on. It’ll give you peace in your life. “
You know what’s really being said there?
“ Shut up and just stuff it - sweep it under the carpet so I don’t have to look at it - and face my part in any of it. “
More and more - I’m beginning to understand the amount of strength I have - despite how tired and fed up I am from the life of chewing brick walls I have endured - and survived - just to get to where I am in my life today.
My family doctor handled me correctly. Although his ‘ medicine ‘ has been the most difficult I’ve ever survived. With each visit - we begin tearing layers away. Trust me - it is nothing like a trip to Disney World.
As for my Therapist - he confirms my family physician's diagnosis and agrees with the treatment. According to both professionals - I have needed anti-depressants for only two major traumas occurring in my life - and only needed them for a few months - at most.
Beyond that - I only needed therapy to help me learn how to get back in somebody's face and make them own their stuff - something I continue working on in therapy today.
More and more - in the year I will be turning 51 years old - I am only now discovering more about who truly loves/loved me - and who - honestly - has not - during all these years.
Today was supposed to be my father’s birthday - ( my birth father ).
I really never got to know him - not like his first child should have been allowed - anyway.
I only remember seeing my father for the very first time when I was 16. Life got even worse after that.
I was never allowed to use my name given to me at birth.
I was 30 years old when my mother and my father reunited and remarried.
By the time I remarried - in 2002 - I was already living in East Tennessee with my husband and youngest daughter.
They chose to move from California - and move to Texas - where ‘all the grandkids ‘ live.
And he always said he wanted to come visit Tennessee.
That never happened.
The last thing I remember about him - he mailed a birthday card to me - in 2006 - during the last week of August.
He knew my birthday was during the last week of September.
And he had never handled the part about mailing cards to me - before.
He died a few weeks later - a few days before my birthday.
He was cremated before I could even get on a plane and get down there.
All the way to the very end.
But the end of this story is - I’m supposed to be happy enough to know - ‘ third party information ‘ - that he loved me. And then there’s the part about - ‘ Now he can visit you in East Tennessee all the time. “
Of course.
2 comments:
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Leslie said...
-
Interesting post and very insightful! Thank you for sharing, and I mean that.
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July 11, 2010 at 1:57 AM
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Deb said...
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I agree with you about the meds dr perscribe WAY to often. Sorry you didn't get to know your Dad to well, but its kinda neat that he sent you a card in the end.
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July 14, 2010 at 8:37 AM
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2 comments:
Interesting post and very insightful! Thank you for sharing, and I mean that.
I agree with you about the meds dr perscribe WAY to often. Sorry you didn't get to know your Dad to well, but its kinda neat that he sent you a card in the end.
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