Monthly Archives: June 2015

Life In A Children’s Home, Part Four.

29 Monday Jun 2015

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Found on Pinterest on 6-29-15.

Found on Pinterest on 6-29-15. Curiano.Com

Being in a Children’s Home brought both good things and difficult things into my life. The good things consisted of: Plenty of hot food every day; Clean clothes and a clean bed to slip into every night; Not having to put up with a dirty environment and horrible smells; Feeling physically safe from pawing hands, swift kicks, and hurtful blows; Being able to go inside when I was tired instead of being left out in the harsh elements; Having access to books and an education; The absence of chaos, loud screaming, and the smell of alcohol; and access to medical treatment when needed.

The negative aspects of living in a Children’s Home were: Lack of privacy; someone being around you all the time and having very little alone time; Having to take naps during the day when I wanted to read books; Being forbidden to talk or socialize with people outside the Home; Lack of affection, communication, or one on one conversations with any one; Loss of freedom to go any where I wanted to go for five years, and make friends; and lack of response to my emotional needs or the needs of the other children. We were seen as numbers, not people. I was lonely there. It sounds strange, all these people living in a building and no one talked much to each other. I never had therapy as a child. I never remember a single person asking about my feelings or what had happened to me as a child. Very little information was shared with the children about what was going to happen in the present or future regarding their lives.

How did I survive for eight years in a series of institutions? I survived by being self-reliant and doing every thing myself. There was no one to depend upon for emotional needs. No one acted interested and no one developed trust. I moved through the system by being good, obedient, never causing trouble, and by being quiet. I never screamed, or cried, or had temper tantrums. I never crawled out of windows at night, never tried to run away, and I never took what belonged to other people. I didn’t get into fights, or destroy property like some of the other children did.

Instead, I read every book I could get my hands on. I read poetry, psychological books, mysteries, books on animals and nature. I wrote stories and poetry no one ever took the time to read. I drew and colored flowers, made things with my hands, and bought flower seeds with my own earned money. I built flower gardens at the Children’s Homes and planted , fertilized, watered, and weeded the flowers as they grew. When I was older and had proven to them I was responsible, they allowed me to walk to the surrounding libraries, and join in after school sports. I won my sports letter in five different sports and made the honor roll at school. As long as I could find the transportation myself to get there and back, I was allowed to join activities at school. The initiative came from me. I worked hard, went to college on scholarships, earned a degree, and rented my first apartment when I got a job. I carved out my future by using my intelligence, persistence, and creativity and it changed my world. I later had the courage and strength to resolve some of these childhood issues in therapy. The following quote says it all.

Yu/stan/kema

Found on Pinterest on 6-29-15. Also on facebook. com. Written by Julie Parker.

Found on Pinterest on 6-29-15. Also on Facebook. com. Written by Julie Parker.

Life In A Children’s Home. Part Three of Four.

29 Monday Jun 2015

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Found on Pinterest on 1-7-15.

Found on Pinterest on 1-7-15. THE GOODVIBE CO.

After the shower, we put on our clean clothes.  We followed the woman downstairs and over to the first building we had entered originally. We walked into a huge room filled with long tables and  rows of chairs. Children of all ages stood in back of them, waiting for a prayer to be said. When it was done, every one sat down to eat a hearty meal. I never saw so much food before. I started to finally feel the weight of the confusion, sadness, loneliness, and fear. I sat in silence looking at the food. I started to eat and gagged on it. Homesickness washed over me in waves. My parents had their own issues and they were abusive and neglectful, but I still missed them. Bad parents were better than no parents at all. At least they were familiar, and I knew what to expect from them. In this place, I did not know who to trust or who to fear.

It was quiet in the dinning hall. The children focused on eating. I was told to finish my meal or sit there until I completed it. I tried to eat the cottage cheese, but the texture made me throw up in my plate. The woman got up from the table and stood over me. She made me finish eating the whole plate. She called me “disgusting.” For a  moment in time, I felt raw, ugly hate towards her.

After eating, we were taken back to the dormitories. My siblings and I were placed on a chore list. Mine was to clean the bathrooms. I was shown the steps to take in cleaning them appropriately. While cleaning them, I leaned against the cool whiteness of the bath tub, hugging it with my body while tears fell on the inanimate object. I was finally alone. There was silence and a sense of peace inside me.

That night, while every one around me slept, I got up and looked out the window. I saw the moon and heard the dogs bark. I felt caged in, imprisoned within the walls of the institution. I missed  the freedom to roam. I missed the outdoors. In my mind’s eye, I saw me as a wolf running across the ground outside.

The next day I attended the school across the street. At recess, the children yelled words at me. They called me a bastard.  They  shouted I didn’t have parents, that I wasn’t lovable. The words stung, but I hid the pain they caused. I persevered and I kept moving forward into the future. (To be continued in Part Four.)

Yu/stan/kema

Life In A Children’s Home. Part Two of Four.

29 Monday Jun 2015

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Outside the court room, of the Child In Need of Care Hearing, I sat in a chair with my legs swinging back and forth in an unsteady rhythm. My siblings also sat in chairs beside me. A strange woman, a probation officer, sat with us. I had been jerked out of a deep sleep at home and was ordered to dress myself as quickly as possible. Breakfast was forgotten in the rush to get to the Court House. I did not know what was happening. Strangers surrounded us. I was apprehensive and could feel my legs quiver. My hands shook with anxiety and my stomach heaved and felt queasy. All of us avoided eye contact.

When the court room door opened, a police officer came out and talked to the strange woman. She looked back at us and ordered us to follow her. She led us out of the building and into a car. My anxiety grew. I did not know her name. I did not know where we were going. I knew someone had done something wrong, but I didn’t know who. The woman pulled up to a big building and there were other buildings further out. She motioned for us to get out. I sat there with two of my siblings, glued to the car seat, unable to move. She spoke sharply and ordered us out of the car to follow her. We all went into a huge entry room and stood, watching every thing and every one. My eyes darted over the room trying to figure out ways to escape. Still, no one had informed us what was happening. We were told to sit and the probation officer went in to talk to the Administrator.

Another woman came into the building. She went in and spoke to the administrator, came out, and told us to come with her. We followed her like robots out of the building. We did not know if we were going to be punished. We never got the chance to say good-bye to our parents, or collect our belongings from home. We entered another big building and went up a flight of stairs. There was a big room to my right that was empty. We passed two locked doors and went down to a huge room at the end of the hallway. I looked in and there were two long rows of small beds. It was a dormitory for girls. She took my siblings and I down to a cabinet and got clean sheets, towels, and wash cloths for us. Then she went into another walk-in closet and took out several pairs of underwear and socks. She handed us clean dresses to wear.

We stood there confused, unable to comprehend where we were and who this woman was. Surely we were not going to be here long. She then took us into a big bathroom full of showers and toilets. We were told to undress, take a shower, and put on the clean dress. I felt anger come over me. My clothes that belonged to me and were a part of my identity  were being snatched away. This woman, who I did not know, was going to watch me  undress and take a shower. I did not trust her. I did not feel safe here. My name had not been spoken once today. I still did not know her name. I finally gave up on trying to fight for my rights, and took a shower. (To be continued in Part Three.)

Yu/stan/kema

Found on Pinterest on 6-13-15.

Found on Pinterest on 6-13-15. “The Gentle Parent.”

Life In A Children’s Home. Part One of Four.

29 Monday Jun 2015

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Found on Pinterest on 6-19-15. Alan Cohen. Wisdom Bits.

Found on Pinterest on 6-19-15. Alan Cohen. Wisdom Bits.

Before the age of ten, I lived in a family filled with domestic violence. My father was not a kind man nor an affectionate one.  Life had taken away his dreams and he was angry at the world and resentful and abusive towards those who had taken away from him other things he had wanted. He was in love with someone else, but because my mother was pregnant, he married her. When the first child came, he took a job he felt was beneath him. It entailed hard work and manual labor. He worked with men he did not like and was sent home often for fighting co-workers. He  told any one who would listen that he hated kids, had too many of them,  and wished they would just disappear from his life. It was a rule in his house that children were neither to be seen or heard. When he came home from work, the children had to be in bed asleep as soon as he came in the front door. While he was in the house, they were to be in bed. He would eat his supper of meat, potatoes, vegetables and bread. He would rest a while, drink some beer, and then head out to the beer joint to talk and drink with friends.

My mother loved my father but knew he was seeing other women when he left the house. She would come in the bedroom and give her children pills to knock them out, and then she would leave to go down to the beer joint. The children had no supper and often slept until the sounds of violence filled the bedrooms. The parents would come home drunk, get into arguments, and scream at each other. They would throw objects, and hit each other with wine or vodka bottles until they both would pass out. In the morning, the children would find blood or vomit on the floor and empty bottles tossed every where. Often they were beaten if they asked questions, or asked for food to eat. They would grab some saltines  and run down the street toward school. The school lunch program for children in need would give them the only hot meal for that day. They rarely missed school because of that.

My mother would often leave for days or weeks at a time and not tell any one where she was going. She would just disappear. When she was home, she was abusive and she would sleep in bed for long periods of time. After a while, someone reported to the police what was going on and A Child In Need Of Care Hearing was held. My world was about to change in ways that would affect me for the rest of my life. (To be continued in part two.)

Yu/stan/kema

Judging Seldom Makes Any One Feel Better.

28 Sunday Jun 2015

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Found on Pinterest on 6-4-15.

Found on Pinterest on 6-4-15. powerofpositivity.com.

All my life I was proud of the fact that I could accept people for who they really were. I never felt I had to convince someone to think the same way I did. I felt that people could be friendly and agree to disagree. For the most part, I allowed my son to be his own person. He was encouraged to think his own thoughts and develop his own values and beliefs. I did pray a lot that my teachings would steer him in the direction of having decent values, because I knew there would be fewer problems he would have to deal with. If he had integrated lying, stealing, cheating, and using other people for his own selfish gain into his value system, I knew things could get dicey for him. I am happy to report he formed a good value system.  I was also very accepting most of the time of my friends, and clients at work.

The only time I can recall having difficulty accepting some one just as they were was in the last several years. There was a big difference in age, values, ways of doing things, and accomplishing goals in a working relationship I had contracted for. Expectations were different for each of us. Because my success in meeting my goals was tied to the other person, I became driven to get the task accomplished. I was full of zeal and wanted to pass on information, skills to get the task done. I saw myself as being helpful but the other person saw it differently, that I was trying to change how she did her work, and I wasn’t allowing her to be herself. Needless to say things got dicey.

I grew from that relationship, but it was hard and stressful, and I should have been more patient, less driven. I should have been more flexible. I wasn’t the best person I could have been, but I do know I put a lot of time and energy into trying to make it work. I learned some unkind things about myself and some valuable lessons about the working relationship. It’s easy to make assumptions about someone else or judge a person without needed feedback. I wish I had known more about her as a person so I could have had a better understanding why certain things were important to her. I do know making any kind of judgement at all was not helpful.  I do want to work on accepting other people, as time goes on.

Found on Google+ on 6-13-15. Path to Holmes Beach. Rick Schwartz.

Found on Google+ on 6-13-15. Path to Holmes Beach. Rick Schwartz.

Yu/stan/kema

The Wind Feeds The Soul.

24 Wednesday Jun 2015

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Collision by Gianluca Podesta. On Google + on 12-16-14. 1417585116441-5a1225b.......

Collision by Gianluca Podesta. On Google + on 12-16-14. 1417585116441-5a1225b…….

The wind has been a central element in my life since the beginning. I was fascinated by it. As a little child, I would sit on the porch, close my eyes, and use my face to search for the wind. I could feel it gently touch my forehead and lips. My black hair would lift off of my head and the breezes would play with my curls, making them dance in the wind. When I was hungry for a loving touch, I would go where the breezes blew. I was never disappointed. Their touch was gentle and yet strong, as if the hand of God had come down from heaven to touch me and let me know everything was going to be O.K. I spent hours laying in the green grass as I watched the dandelions and flowers sway in the wind to a melody only they could hear. I would gaze at clouds as they moved across the azure blue sky. Some times the clouds looked like horse tails. At other times,  they were big billowy clouds that looked like cotton candy. Some days, the clouds were stacked up on one another and looked like they were expanding. We called them thunderclouds. At first, they would look lovely and then they would grow threatening. I liked watching them most of all.

Seeing the different kinds of trees bend and sway in the wind was exhilarating. Most of the oak trees were too strong  to sway much. The fruit trees  had more difficulty with the wind. Their branches would break, sending some of the fruit to the ground. The willow branches would whip back and forth and up and down in the wind. The trees I loved to watch most on a windy day were the cottonwoods. The leaves themselves would quiver and shake like frightened children in a haunted house. In the fall, when the leaves would turn yellow and sway in the wind, the trees shimmered like gold. There is not a prettier sight, in my eyes, than yellow-gold cottonwood trees in a  deep blue sky.

When the storm clouds rolled in and the wind blew hard, I would go out into the rain and stand, letting the force of the wind rock me on my feet. I would cry the tears  locked up inside that could not fall at any other time. The wind has always been my friend. It was only fitting that, after my Spirit Walk, I was given the name Yu/stan/kema which means, ” She who stands in the face of the wind.”

Yu/stan/kema

Our Influence Can Make A Difference in Someone’s Life.

23 Tuesday Jun 2015

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Found on Pinterest on 6-19-15.

Found on Pinterest on 6-19-15.

It never ceases to amaze me how a life can influence others in very significant ways even if the time spent with them is brief.  I had a fifth grade teacher who inspired me to read and write poetry. I’ve done it ever since. When I was eleven, a famous golfer came and visited with me at the Children’s Home. She talked to me about my life’s goals, and told me she believed in me. Her visit lasted 30 minutes. She left behind a box of medals she had won. My name was on it. It was her way of telling me I was a champion too. I cherished her for that. Forty years later, I can still remember the color of her hair and eyes, the way her smile crinkled up her face, and the color of the clothes she wore. When I was 21, I was able to thank her in person for all she had done for me.  I saw she was playing in a tournament in Dallas, Texas. I called where she was staying, and she left a ticket for me to get into the Women’s Golf Tournament. During a break, she walked with me and I reiterated what her visit had meant to me and how she had given me the courage to get a college degree so many years ago.

When I was in my late 30’s, I met a woman who became my best friend. She was a social worker. I had just entered grad school to get a professional degree. She was a mentor and taught me a lot about the profession. She became like family and became a big part of my son’s life. She gave me a kind of stability I had never had before and taught me some valuable life skills. Thirty years later, we are still friends. She has influenced my life in very significant ways.

About two years ago, I came in contact with someone who had taken the time to read my poetry, articles, etc. She suggested I blog since I had retired. I was not good with computers. It meant having to read tons of information in computer language. Every time I got discouraged, she would give me a pep talk. There were many pep talks. She believed in me and my abilities. I can never thank her enough for having faith in me.

There are many people who come into our lives. Some stay for a short time and others stay  for a while. They influence us  positively or negatively.  We, influence them.  Even those we see for an hour and never see again. We often think we gave them nothing. Later, we can see them in a store, and they come up to us and tell us how much we helped them, that their lives are better because of us. There is nothing like the feeling you get when you become aware that you had touched someone’s life and it mattered.

Yu/stan/kema

Found on Google+ on 4-24-15. Gowri Reddy.

Found on Google+ on 4-24-15. Gowri Reddy.

A Therapist’s Prayer.

21 Sunday Jun 2015

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Found on Pinterest on 6-19-15.

Found on Pinterest on 6-19-15. Crosscards.com.

Spirit of the living God

Come  and  comfort me.

In the darkness of this day,

Help me to be

Someone with a strong hand,

And  wisdom to see

A child is crying out in pain

And needs to be set free.

Acceptance comes in many forms.

Compassion is the key.

I need Your reassurance

So I can help her now

Deal with the frustration

As she learns how

To connect the dots inside

And find a better way

To communicate the feelings

Hiding in her today.

Help me understand

How hard  it is to trust

Someone she relies  on

To be  fair and just.

I’ve learned it’s never easy

To heal a damaged heart.

It requires strength of Spirit

Right from the start.

It takes a lot of patience

And persistence too, 

A lot of caring,

And  skills to renew,

A child’s flagging spirit

When you don’t know

What to do.

The rewards can be many

For those who dare to try

To heal a damaged spirit

And teach a soul to fly.

God holds a  place apart

For therapists who take

The time to help a child

Become spiritually awake.

Yu/stan/kema

Found on Pinterest on 6-20-15.

Found on Pinterest on 6-20-15. you tube.com.

Friendship’s Sorrow.

21 Sunday Jun 2015

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Found on Pinterest on 6-4-15.

Found on Pinterest on 6-4-15.

Found on Pinterest on 6-20-15

Found on Pinterest on 6-20-15

I seek you always with my heart.

I cannot speak  a single word.

I miss your presence in my life.

I miss the stories I once heard.

The absence of your kind  smile

Brings such sorrow deep within.

Looking back in time, it hurts

To see what might have been.

I miss the laughter in your voice,

The gentleness within your eyes.

It hurts to just stand by

And wait while friendship dies.

Yu/stan/kema

Anger Has the Ability To Disrupt Life.

21 Sunday Jun 2015

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Found on Facebook Timeline on 6-13-15.

Found on Facebook Timeline on 6-13-15.

Found on Google + on 1-12-15. Dave Morrow. Karen Hoyt showed it. Naiad's Ghost.

Found on Google + on 1-12-15. Dave Morrow. Karen Hoyt showed it. Naiad’s Ghost.

Anger is a primitive emotion and the intensity of it when not regulated and controlled causes us to disrupt our own lives as well as the lives of others. It is an emotion that is sometimes used to mask other feelings such as sadness, fear, or hurt. Anger gives us a reason to throw up walls, and sometimes distance from others when we feel threatened or unsafe. When we do not regulate anger, it can cause us to say things and do things that make the situation worse. Yet anger can be useful if we are in an unsafe situation or someone is violating our space or boundaries. Anger can also help motivate us to get tasks done. It can encourage us to stand up for our own needs. When it runs unchecked, it can affect both the heart and soul. The following poem is about anger:

Anger runs

Underground,

Out of sight

And I…

I try 

So damn hard

To hold tight

To control

And find

It’s just an

Illusionary

Concept.

I wish

I could be

More adept

At expressing 

Rage….

To get that

Feeling out

And destroy

All who have

Unfeelingly

Destroyed me.

But will that

In turn

Make me free

Or kill all hope 

And ruin

My destiny.

Yu/stan/kema