Mom's Health

I was in high school both times my mom underwent Open Heart surgery . Not the run of the mill by pass surgery of today . Mom had what she said often was a valve job "The Doctors took my damaged valve out and popped a brand new plastic one in" The second surgery was worse for me because by then I was old enough to know Mom could die on that table or from complications after. The following poem I submitted to a class I was taking on poetry the teacher simply wrote "Keep trying Pearl"

WAITING
Sitting around ,
trying to feel fine .
Sometimes I succeed,
just to fall again .

Waiting around ,
for an answer of health .
Sometimes the sorrow ,
just keeps me down.

Wishing around,
trying to get downtown .
Sometimes I laugh ,
just to stop thoughts of death.

Our Twins

The following is a poem I wrote many years ago when our sons were very young . I am posting it to prove to myself that happy happened in my past.

Oh for this past year what did I give?
Most of it was spent nursing my twins,
The house is in shambles ,the mess everywhere
My Babies are smiling they haven't a care.
Their sweetness surrounds me I can not refuse
when one tugs at my dress,
this child is at my breast.
Nourishing comfort he is content,
Then his brother does spot us
Soon we three are at rest.

Oh for this past year what have I done?
Have I helped out my neighbor whose load is a ton?
Not much have I ventured out of our home.
I'm told that someday I'll look back on these days
Part of me longs to, the rest wants to stay.
I've heard enough crying to last all my life.
My days are long and chores are done twice
But the rewards are extra double nice,
As two separate personalities explore life.
What wondrous sights and sounds to explore ,
How could a mother want anymore?
Just Pearl

I the survivor am now a thrivor.

Some day that will be the title of a poem it just keeps rattle ling around in my brain so someday it will come the rest of the words and not just the title .

Being able to wax poetic matters ever so to me
Finding my center that peace in my being matters ever so to me
Picking a pencil up sketching a portrait of someone then having someone anyone tell me" I know who that is" would mean the world to me

What disturbs me is that it takes medication for me to write poetry and I do not mean just the run of the mill anti depressants that so many women have used including me in the past .I am talking serious legal prescription medication for anxiety and Bi-polar
I had been a lost soul in my own skin not able to slow down and to find quite time to create. This honestly has been worse in the last 6 months but before that I was just sad ,numb really .If I had the chose I would take manic over numb any year.
My loved ones are the reason I sought help and Specialists in mental health.
It seems what was fun for me came out as anger to them.
It is all very new for me this medication my specialist upping my dose just a few days back
I do not know where this all will lead me I am mostly hoping for the a for mentioned PEACE

I, The survivor, Here I am today.

If This Is The first time You read My Blog Please scroll down And Read at least My Poem Called I The Survivor It is the reason why I started Blogging . I am going to write about my life today in this post . I am serene today I am Happy in the life I am living and I would even say I am thriving not merely surviving . I have Forgiven My Mother The abuse and Neglect That occurred in my childhood if fact I have a deep well of love for my deceased Parents. I have forgiven others who harmed me in my childhood. I have recently went on medication for anxiety and soft Bi polar both helped with one little pill I take once a day. I feel hope that I will be able to be a better employee Though I am currently self employed I work for people in my field so there-in I hope to be a better employee. So far so good I am having far less anxiety than before and My relationship with my Husband feels like things were a few years ago when we were going through a really good patch . So I am full of hope today And I can not ask for more.

I, the Survivor

I the Survivor of Childhood neglect,
Learned that wanting so for Mommy to hold me didn't make it happen
Learned how to open the refrigerator door when my tummy growled
Learned what beer was for before I was two
Learned not to expect very much for myself
Learned what loneliness felt like before I could speak

I, The survivor of Childhood abuse,
Learned how to be quiet so I wouldn't disturb anyone
Learned to be afraid of Mom's stern face
when she checked up on me at nap time
So I learned how to pretend to be asleep,
Learned what fear felt like before I could speak
Learned not to feel anger because it felt wrong
to hate my Mom who I loved and needed
Learned to lock up feelings and feel numb

I, the survivor of Childhood sexual abuse,
Learned not to tell the secretes I knew
Learned not to trust Big Hairy men
Learned about strange noises and saw and felt strange things
before I knew what sex was
Learned to totally forget it all
Learned I couldn't forget how sad this made me feel
Learned how to be in a room full of people and not be completely alone

I, the Survivor am now an adult
I am learning how to come out of my shell
and have remembered many things I once forgot
I have learned to tell the secrets that I could not tell then
I'm Learning that feelings can still overwhelm me, especially despair
So I am learning how to trust doctors and therapist
even when they are Big Hairy men
I've learned that by taking care of my needs first,
I am then better able to take care of others
I'm learning to be available to my children,
and not to repeat patterns from my past
I'm learning to share my experiences with people
I'm Learning that people do care and I can trust some people but not all people
I'm learning to bond with people and learning to say goodbye
to people I have bonded with and feel the pain of the loss
I'm learning that in order to heal, I had to go through the painful past
I'm learning that at times to function I have to leave alone the past,
I don't have to have every horrid detail to grow today
I'm slowly learning to communicate with my husband

I've learned to seek out and hold that little girl within me
because when she feels safe and wanted SO DO I

Pearl Fite 10-24- 1994

Ninteen not a good year for me

I am finding it difficult to speak from where my life is today.There are so many reasons for this I my life is changing so much and I am left trying to deal with it all. I am not sure how I feel about it all so blogging about things that are happening today feel like I would be spilling my guts on the floor then trying to scoop it all up and take it back again . Also I do not know what the outcomes will be , I like beginning middle and The End of the story. I am somewhere in the middle in some of the out comes so I just do not know how to start. Here goes this could get dicey for me I am going to start at a beginning . The following is a flashback that I had last week brought on by the trails I am currently dealing with . I was 19 when this happened.
Instructions given,I'm there on the doctors table legs dangling I am in my jeans and t-shirt . Someone is talking to me we have to wait, Why isn't Mom here? Oh I am considered an adult it is considered I may have Something private to say. We are waiting for a phone call from another Doctor, Doctor Sore Can't Diagnose this. What is this nurse saying I really can not understand She is giving me instructions Haldol is mentioned and some other Medication also .Nurse repeats instructions ,Wish Mom has here she would understand she would know what is being said I know she is here in the building somewhere she drove me. I want to go home I want to sleep . Mom comes we have to go to the Pharmacy to pick up Meds. We go home I take a pill What were those instructions Can not remember One pill does this the other so that does not happen .What this or that was I do not know.Later I am in the Kitchen it is night-time now My head is jerking.Help me I can cry but I can not speak words right My body Starts to tighten more head jerks back can not control any of this .Mom calls Doctor Sore doctor sore does not know a damm thing ,Mom is Screaming at someone one the phone . Mom comes back to me Offers me a second Pill I do not co- operate She explains the This pill will counter act the effects of the First pill I can understand I drink and shallow It is difficult to do but I do some how manage Later I am in my bed I do not remember How I get there. I can not talk Mom is there I am trying to say Do not Leave me No words come out She touches my head and kisses me And Shuts off my light My whole body is tight It is so dark ,This is Hell this is hell Farther down I go Outer darkness Can not move tears come no sounds Oh god Help me I do not Like Hell Slowly I do not Know How much time passes my Body Relaxes.Mom Looks In the Door but does not enter she thinks I am okay She does not know I am in Hell (I never did tell her) Up one Level not as Dark Up another level It seems like hours coming out Of a deep dark well At some point I sleep , Sleep is good I have not slept for many days.(The cramping was caused By the Haldol the Other Med was To prevent That from happening) Will I wake Up and Have to go to hell again?
3 weeks later after Going to day treatment At the Mental health clinic every weekday The clinical therapist who had the proper education to diagnose saw me .A lot of questions asked and Answered . "Did you hear voices" what does that mean Other than your own No never only my own "did you have blackouts not remember what you had done" no not before Haldol .I just did not understand what was going on at times More question asked and answered. Miss Cummins You are not a schizophrenic you should never been put on Haldol. later Mom picked me up I tell her My good news She gets angry and Rants For all the drive home and for days after I do not care what she says I am not a schizophrenic and that all that matters to me .

I belong to a church where if you are asked to take a position it is considered a calling and tradition says "If called you must accept" I have post traumatic stress syndrome and am married to a man who is not a member of My faith. Fifteen tears ago I has invited to have a conversation with a member Of The priesthood Who apparently taught he had wonderful news for me ,I can not remember what "the calling" was but I do remember how the conversation felt to me , I sat silent For a minute in full panic, heart pounding know that I was already overwhelmed with My daily tasks Of raising twins working and trying to be some kind of wife to my husband when out of my mouth came the only words that would have and did silence the nice priesthood leader "My husband will not allow me to take that calling." His face fell he went pale He said Quietly more to himself than to me "I was so sure this was inspired " but to he credit he did not press me that fact that I was now a puddle of tears may have told him there was no reasoning to be done. My prospective now is that It was inspired and the answer was no , This leader was going to hear no eventually why not from me . The calling would not have blessed my life and helped me avoid the nervous breakdown I was headed for it just would have gotten me there faster. In life and church sometimes the answer is NO .