The hardest part of today? Choosing which happy photos from this week to share with you. I’m feeling particularly blissful lately! There is so much to be grateful for in every little thing. Take a peek at some of my itty bitty joys.

Puppy snuzzles never get old.

Wisdom in a magazine ad.

Love.

The squirrels have returned to the yard- and are torturing Cholula.

A portrait of John on skis by his nephew. Sweet hair!

Fabulous art arrived!

There are a lot of hikes happening these days.

Watching a storm roll in.

Oven fries are perfect with grilled burgers!

I’ve been loving this purple bloom on the patio table.

An almost-engaged me and a teeny Cholula!

Big sky.

Vitamins, Chinese herbs, and supplements.

Crazy pink clouds on date night.

I had a LOT of fun with the new photo-edit app from A Beautiful Mess!

You can do all sorts of fun things with the app. I might be addicted.

A private moment with her beloved tennis ball.

Fluffy cloud view from the porch.

She’s smarter than we think.

Sunset dining.

Backyard beast.

We visited Cholula’s favorite pond for the first time this year!

She did a lot of this:

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And some evidence that we MAY be responsible for spoiling our dog from the start:

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I pulled this beautiful image from Pinterest. Live in the sunshine.

You know. Just the usual bliss.

**Follow me on Instagram (@mrshowiepc) for more bliss-y bits!**

I like to look for rainbows whenever there is rain
and ponder on the beauty of an earth made clean again.

I want my life to be as clean as earth right after rain.
I want to be the best I can and live with God again.

Last night was a very hard night. So much hurt and anger and fear bubbled out, triggered by a goodnight kiss from my husband. Something meant to bring comfort brought fear and hurt.

I realize I blame myself not so much for what happened, or maybe I do, but for not telling. I have dealt with depression and anxiety for so long. Trust issues for so long. Always wanting and needing someone there. WHY DID I NOT TELL?

As I broke down last night and let so much out, I recognized how much I want to protect “him”. Why would I do that? It makes no sense to me. The inner battle is so overwhelming, because even though I have this desire to protect him, when I go anywhere I end up white knuckling it all the way and have deep finger nail marks in my palms fearing that moment that I might see him.

I have always loved rainbows. And much like Noah they seem to be a special gift from God, My Father in Heaven, to let my know all is going to be okay. This morning I have anxiety, but I am singing. “I like to look for rainbows”. The song is actually called when I Am Baptized.

Last night when I was looking at one of the blogs I follow, someone had posted the picture above. I am grateful for those tender mercies and moments that Heavenly Father reminds me that He is very aware of me, and knows exactly what I am going through. This not going to be easy, but I will with Him and My Savior Jesus Christ and also with the support of my family, my friends, and the medical professionals He has blessed with wisdom and knowledge eventually I will be whole again and able to deal with life.

I must keep reminding myself of that, and keep looking for the rainbows that He places in my path everyday.

Aku teringat ketika harus berjalan menyusuri rel kereta lalu melewati gang-gang kecil untuk sampai di sekolah ku. SMP negeri yang berdiri megah ditengah kerumunan pasar dengan segala hiruk pikuknya.

Aku rindu saat bercengkrama dengan pak Alam dan pak Udin, satpam sekolahku yang selalu setia menampungku untuk duduk-duduk santai di posnya. Atau sekedar bercanda bersama bu Naseh, salah seorang penjual makanan yang berada dikantin sekolahku yang hijau, luas.

Bahkan aku mengingat pedagang asongan yang pernah menyelamatkanku dari kereta yang sedang berjalan dengan cepatnya, tanpa ampun. Ya, pagi sewaktu aku ingin menyebrang rel menuju sekolah. Entah ada apa denganku saat itu. Aku sadar, namun tidak sepenuhnya. Sampai kemudian ada seorang bapak, pedagang asongan yang menarik tanganku karena beberapa meter disebelahku ada kereta yang sedang berjalan. Mungkin tidak akan pernah ada tulisan ini, jika saat itu dia tidak menyelamatkanku.

Apa kabar mereka? Masihkah mereka mengingat aku seperti aku mengingat mereka?

Ah, tak lupa, aku juga mengingat pak, aku lupa namanya. Sepasang suami-istri yang mungkin umurnya sekitar 65, ia menjaga koperasi di SMA ku. Bagaimana mungkin aku melupakan keduanya, mereka pernah memberikanku black forest dengan ukuran besar pada saat ulang tahunku yang ke 17. Mereka juga memberikanku uang sebagai kado sebesar 30.000 rupiah. Mungkin aku lah satu-satunya yang mendapatkan itu semua dari mereka. Apa kabar mereka? Aku rindu.

Semoga mereka, orang-orang yang pernah mengisi hidupku, dengan ikhlas membantuku, dapat terus berada didalam lindungan Allah SWT. Saat ini mungkin aku belum bisa membalas apa-apa, tapi yang pasti, mereka akan selalu ada dalam setiap doaku.

I was describing a recent flashback to my therapist, and I finally got brave and actually described it without watering it down. I told her how it seemed so real, and that I could see, hear, feel, smell – everything- my past superimposing and flickering over my present – leaving me unsure for moments which age I actually was.  I told her I was afraid to say that before, afraid I would get taken away and locked up. She smiled her sad smile at me, knowing what I meant. I asked her if any of her other clients describe flashbacks as powerful hallucinations – and she said yes.

So that got me thinking – woah – what if my brother’s schizophrenia is similar to my PTSD flashbacks? What if all hallucinations work on the same mechanism, the same spectrum of disorder, but that schizophrenia is much more severe?

What if schizophrenia is a flashback that doesn’t end with a safe return to reality?  I shudder at the thought. 

Turns out some recent studies have been thinking along the same lines. Check out this article: http://healingattention.org/documents/doc_litreviewpsychosis.pdf

Excerpts from that article:

“Paranoid delusions: faulty attempts to explain traumabased hallucinations? Some people, when faced
with negative, emotionally loaded, or unusual or anomalous experiences quickly jump to the
suspicion of external threat, i.e. they become paranoid. Hearing voices when there is nobody
there is often (but not always) a negative experience, and is often experienced as unusual

or anomalous. Paranoid delusions are sometimes, therefore, understandable attempts to make sense
of hallucinations (in various sense modalities) (106, 146–148, 155–157).
Paranoid delusions can, of course, develop in the absence of hallucinations. Is there a difference
between the hypervigilance to threat acknowledged in PTSD patients to be the outcome of
trauma and the belief that people are out to get you which is labelled
delusional in traumatized
people diagnosed psychotic? (30, 33). Having been severely or repeatedly abused as a child is
likely to render other people a serious potential threat, a threat that can easily be generalized to
anyone or anything that is reminiscent of the perpetrator or the circumstances surrounding the
abuse. The processes by which hypervigilance develops into fixed paranoid delusions would
appear to be a fruitful research avenue. Again, Nadel and Jacob’s (159) work on the impact of
trauma on the brain is salient. Whether we label this PTSD, DID or schizophrenia, the resulting
fear, distortions and impoverishment of lives remain. Heightened sensitivity to stressors: the Traumagenic
Neurodevelopmental (TN) model Many of the theories attempting to explain trauma’s relationships with hallucinations and
delusions, such as high levels of distress in the face of anomalous experiences and hypervigilance
to threat, are consistent with a heightened sensitivity to stress in general. A study of 271 severely ill
in-patients found that the two subscales of the Brief Symptom Inventory most strongly related to
sexual and physical abuse were
psychoticism and 
interpersonal sensitivity (164).
Heightened reactivity to stressors is a cardinal feature of
schizophrenia (165) and is considered
the core of the
constitutional vulnerability that forms the diathesis in the stress-diathesis model.”

Related articles

• First pharmaceutical treatment for PTSD within reach? (scienceblog.com)
• The Dual Role Of Testosterone In Schizophrenia (medicalnewstoday.com)

Behind my parents home are the best woods. Growing up in southern Georgia, the outdoors was my playroom along with my siblings and the neighborhood children. We had the most entertaining times. It was as you see on the tv shows from the 70s, as soon as the sun came up we were outside, after dark we were being called home. We loved life in our little neighborhood. It was safe.

Whether we were climbing the mimosa tree, tenderly nicknamed “the climbing tree”, raking up straw to create our imaginary homes and neighborhoods, walking around to “feed the aligators” in the mud puddles after a rain. No gators were in the puddles, we just had a great time playing together. I remember one fall all of us chasing a woodrat through the brush. Oh the adventures we enjoyed. I am sure some of the animals around did not have near as much fun as we did. One poor turtle or gofer ended up with a blue shell, years later we saw him again someone else has tagged him with red paint too. I often through the years called the woods My Narnia. They were just magical. If you could imagine it, it could happen there.

Just as in C.S. Lewis’ novel, evil entered my beloved Narnia. It was not a great White Witch as in the novels, but instead the perverted mind of one of my playmates. He sexually abused me when I was 5 or 6. During and right after the abuse I blocked it from my mind completely. I had no memory of this experience until I was 39 and in therapy for severe depression and anxiety. I began having flashbacks to the abuse.

I refuse to let the darkness stay in my Narnia, my Narnia then or my Narnia now. I am currently in counselling for PTSD, depression, and anxiety. I have always wanted to do a blog and thought that I would do one on couponing, never ever on this, but if my experience helps one person then that will be my legency and part of claiming my Narnia and help them reclaim theirs!

***I will not be using my name or the name of any of my family and friends. If you comment please call my husand “Jethro”. He chose his own name, and call me “Hope”.

Contact: reclaimingmynarnia@gmail.com

So, naturally, my IPod is filled with it. Everything from Backstreet Boys (all time fav), to Smashing pumpkins. Vertical Horizon, Third Eye Blind, Stone Temple Pilots, Sugar Ray, Hanson, 5ive, Spice Girls, Ace of Base. You name it, I’ve probably got it. (if I don’t ill probably go and get it pronto)

So today, I rediscovered Hanson’s CD, Middle of Nowhere. Now, we all know Mmmbop. And as much as most of you probably won’t admit it, it is amazingly catchy and makes you smile.

Come on, admit it. You’re singing it in your head right now.

But I forgot about all the other awesome songs on that album that I loved when I was a teeny bopper. No joke, but I still remember all the words to all the songs on it. Haha. I mean, come, I listened to that CD (along with BSB) on my portable cd player constantly. So, I suppose the sings are engrained into my brain.

But I’m not complaining. I love it. I was driving around town today blaring Mmmbop and Where’s the Love and didn’t care who saw.

But one of my favorite gems that most people forget about, is a song that I turned my little brother onto and is now one of his favorites.

Do you remember the Golfers Christmas commercial with the accapella band called Rockapella? Well they also sang the theme song to Where in the World is Carmen San Diego?

Forgot about that show, didn’t ya? I You Tubed an episode and, quite frankly, its kind of hokey. But when I was a kid it was the bees knees! It was as awesome as What Would You Do and Doug.

Anyway, it was a pretty awesome 90′s throwback afternoon. Oh, and my favorite line from Carmen San Diego is “she put he miss in misdemeanor when she stole the beans from Lima”. I’m not sure why but that part cracks me up and gets stuck in my head. I’ll probably be singing it in my head as I go to sleep.

If I have a dream about Carmen, I’ll be sure to let you know tomorrow. Maybe I’ll finally find out where the heck she is

I do not repost this to victimize or revictimize, or to define ourselves as victims, but rather so couple of things might happen.

If you are a victim, you can recognize the areas that you are having trouble in, and see how your abuse played a role in forming that, and know that as you heal, those areas may heal too. That gives me hope. Seeing the extensive list and even healing and removing one or two or ten would be a huge success, and rewarding.

Secondly, if you or someone you know has many of these symptoms it may not hurt to see a counselor. How is that for noncommittal advice?

The type of therapy I was in when I remembered my abuse was EDMR therapy. EDMR has helped many soliders with PTSD, but for me it too many memories came flooding in a short time. Just like one medication is not going to help everyone, neither will the same type of therapy. I did take some relaxation techniques from my therapist and a reminder that if “I can feel safe, if I am safe.” Which I repeat to myself quite often when I am anxious.

I explained that because the pyschotherapist website I copied this from practices EDMR therapy. I did not want anyone to link into the website and think that I was advertising EMDR. That is not my intent. I no longer attend EMDR therapy, and go a Psychologist who I feel better fits my situation. When looking for a therapist, make sure the fit is for you. Not for anyone else. It is so important that you are comfortable with them. I have also found that looking up doctors on Health Grades is really helpful.

Now to what this post is really about and a WARNING, though I will never get into the graphic deals that I remember about my own abuse, “The What Is Sexual Abuse” section of this post does use strong sexual language.

What Is Sexual Abuse?

Sexual abuse represents any kind of sexual contact between an adult or older teen and a child. This behavior is used to gain power over the child and often involves a betrayal of the child’s trust.

There are many types of sexual abuse, some include physical contact or touching offenses. This includes fondling, touching sexual organs, masturbation, making the child touch the adult sexually, and vaginal, oral, or anal penetration with self or objects. Non touching offenses include exposing a child to pornographic material, indecent exposure, leering and deliberately putting the child in the position of having to witness an act of sexual intercourse.

What Kind Of Person Would Victimize A Child?

People who sexually abuse suffer from emotional immaturity, low self-esteem, an inability to see harm in their actions and lack the knowledge to control their impulses. Often the offenders were victims of child sexual abuse themselves. Many abusers are not strangers, they are often people of position or power in our lives, such as, teachers, doctors, baby-sitters, neighbors, parents, peers, siblings, relatives and clergy.

How Common Is Child Sexual Abuse?

It has been shown that 3-7% of boys are sexually abused by the time they reach eighteen and 2-5% of girls, on the whole two out of ten children are victims of abuse. These averages are of course conservative since most occurrences are never reported.

Was I Sexually Abused?

Pay attention to your feelings and follow your gut. A lot of victims of sexual abuse tend to block out memories they have of the incident only to be triggered by painful reminders: specific sounds, smells, words and facial expressions. If you suspect that you were sexually abused, you probably were. Trust your feelings and memories.

What Are The Affects Of Sexual Abuse?

Being in your body

Do you feel at home in your body?
Do you feel comfortable expressing yourself sexually with another?
Do you feel that you are a part of your body or does your body feel like a separate entity?
Have you ever intentionally and physically hurt yourself?
Do you find it difficult to listen to your body?

Emotions

Do you feel out of control of your feelings?
Do you feel you sometimes don’t understand all the feelings you are experiencing?
Are you overwhelmed by the wide range of feelings you have?

Relationships

What are your expectations of your partner in a relationship?
Do you find it easy to trust others?
Do you find difficulty in making commitments?
Even though you’re in a relationship, are you still lonely?
Is it hard for you to allow others to get close to you?
Do you find yourself in relationships with people who remind you of your abuser, or you know is no good for you?

Self-Confidence

Do you find it difficult to love yourself?
Do you have a hard time accepting yourself?
Are you ashamed of yourself?
Do you have expectations of yourself that aren’t realistic?

Sexuality

Do you enjoy sex?
Do you find it difficult to express yourself sexually?
Do you find yourself using sex to get close to someone?
Does sex make you feel dirty?
Are you “present” during sex?

What Problems are Caused by Sexual Abuse?

Major Sexual Symptoms of Sexual Abuse

Difficulty with becoming aroused and feeling sensations
Sex feels like an obligation
Sexual thoughts and images that are disturbing
Inappropriate sexual behaviors or sexual compulsivity
Vaginal pain
Inability to achieve orgasm or other orgasmic difficulties
Erections problems or ejaculatory difficulty
Feeling dissociated while having sex
Detachment or emotional distance while having sex
Being afraid of sex or avoiding sex
Guilt, fear, anger, disgust or other negative feelings when being touched

Major Long-Term Medical Symptoms of Sexual Abuse

Insomnia
Vaginal or Pelvic Pain
Eating Disorders
Headaches
TMJ syndrome
Low back pain, chest pressure
Erection problems or ejaculatory difficulty
Asthma
Dizziness/fainting
Self harming/self-mutilation
Chronic physical complaints

Major Long-Term Psychological Symptoms of Sexual Abuse

Anxiety
Panic Attacks
Low self-esteem
Stress disorders – PTSD
Personality disorders
Substance abuse
Self-abuse behaviors

Why Do I Have To Deal With It Now, If It Happened Back Then?

There are many reasons why children do not deal with the abuse at the time of the incident: unconscious feelings of shame, disbelief, self blame. Abusers may also threaten or bribe children into not speaking up, convincing the child that it is indeed their fault, and that they will never be believed otherwise. These tactics are used to silence the child. Under no circumstances, is the child to blame for the abuse. Although, if the abuse is not dealt with in a therapeutic and healing setting, the effects of past abuse will remain and undermine the victim for years to come.

Does It Get Better?

The worst part, the abuse, is over. Now your next step is to surround yourself with supportive loving people, and focus on the desire you have to heal yourself. This is your process. You must be gentle and patient with yourself as your healing process gently unfolds. You are giving yourself the gift of coming to life, again.

Now What?

You are not alone, and in fact, in recognizing what has happened to you and speaking about your experience is one of the most vital components in the healing process. You have already taken a giant step. If you think that you have been a victim of sexual abuse, you need to take action immediately so your life will not be undermined by the past one day more. Get help.

Rating:

9 out of 10 (from 50 votes)

“Green” Edition of the Statue of Liberty

Of the ten pieces that I’ve sent to schools when I was applying for colleges, this piece was always the last one. The prestige and level of competition this piece went through was phenomenal for my artistic journey, but for colleges who sent back feedbacks, they thought otherwise. I thought an international piece was the cherry on top, but it turned out to be the last drop of your favorite drink. USC and Harvard enjoyed my watercolor piece of a French church, while MIT and  Illinois IT loved my colored pencil pieces. Sometimes, I’d like to think that they didn’t like it because it was to “Frenchy.” But I would never know.

Unfortunately, the website for this grand competition was taken down, but I still have the certificate and some documents as proofs of this short-lived contest. It was back in 2011 when my French teacher told me about this contest between k-12 students of France and America. Students were to create art pieces using recycled materials with the theme “Rock the Statue Green.”

I had approximately three months before the deadline and didn’t formally start until a week before the deadline. You see, that’s what I do not like about conceptual art. As an artist, I respect the value of art as a representation of someone’s thoughts and feelings at a specific moment when ideas come to him. No matter how good my artworks come out, I don’t feel happy about them if I have to chase ideas just to materialize them. As an artist, I like it when ideas come to me, and that’s when I know that I have the drive to do something I’m gonna be happy about. Commercial visual and conceptual artists may have different perspectives, but I’m pretty sure they’d agree with my point.

I’m very lucky and blessed to have an art teacher that I instantly got along well with. Mrs. Periera was like a second mom to me, and a mentor, an adviser, and a go-to when I need to rant how much I hate some people (sometimes). When I told her about the contest, she was not excited about it as much as I was, and instead told me, “Just let me know if you need something, and I’ll get it for you.” I’ve won about 85% of all the contests I joined when I was in high school, and I think that Mrs Pereira was very confident with everything I was doing. Knowing this, I sat there on my special table for around three months coughing from chalk smokes and thinners from painting with oils.

Until almost about a week before the deadline, I couldn’t help but get reminded of this contest in rather strange ways. I was doing my colored pencil pieces for several nights in the kitchen, and I would always end up piling pencil shavings up and putting them in my plastic case (in the wee hours of night, the trash is, and should always remain so before dawn, empty because my mom usually sets fire in the Pacific Ocean if she sees rubbish in it early in the morning). In my art class, Mrs Pereira’s piled up newspapers would usually get blown away because of the fan. I needed the fan to blow off the chalk and the stench of the oil. The idea suddenly came to me: I would be using pencil shavings and newspapers.

But how?

At that time, I was developing my style of “squarism.” It’s a style I’m trying to perfect and establish by practically ‘graphing’ a basic image, and filling in the squares individually to slowly come up with a majestic image. Imagine pixelating pictures, and individually photoshopping each pixels (if over-decorating is your idea of photoshop, then you get the picture. ha. punny pun pun.)

I asked Mrs. Pereira for the biggest board that she has, and she was more than happy to give it to me. My French teacher, Mlle Pyun was also happy to help me by giving extra credit to those who’d give me some pencil shavings. Meanwhile, I was on top of Mount Everest as I shred and re-shred those freaking newspapers that would bother me and the smell of thinner (that didn’t sound right).

I also hated the fact that the contest asked me to write a short description. Well, I tend to over-dramatize my answers, but it usually works… so I was not gonna change that. Here’s what I wrote half-sleep with some shaving-cuts (paper cuts from pencil shavings) on my fingers.

“A ‘green’ depiction of the Statue of Liberty using pencil shavings and recycled newspapers and magazines, brushed with copper and gold acrylics.
(40″x17″)

The pencil shavings symbolize the American resiliency and resourcefulness and the French creativity and artistry as it formed the silhouette of the Statue of Liberty. The recycled newspaper represents the present modern time. It was cut out squares of different colors to represent the diversity across the Atlantic. The green cut out encircling the torch serves as a ray of knowledge to influence people to think green and live green. The copper acrylic was brushed over the silhouette to remind the original state of the Statue, and to preserve its originality in this modern times full of environmental challenges.”

Can I get a round of applause?

I was able to finish this piece in three days, thanks to the slacking French students who needed the boost for their grades by sharpening boxes of pencils.

I received the notification that I won about a month later. I was a runner-up, and the second-highest achiever of the four American students in the top ten. It was an amazing achievement! I mean, an international art competition, and winning against some high-caliber, artistic European kids? I felt like a hooker on parole.

Sure, it may have not sank in then, but when I got my package from the French Embassy… it was spectacular. I got two French novels (that I probably won’t read), a dictionary of French verbs, three modern European art books, two French pop music CDs, and two certificates: one of participation, and one of “Coups de Coeur,” which is the judges’ favorite awars (so why didn’t I win?).

Since I opened with some college application thoughts it would make sense that I end with it right?

I still wonder what the panel from those schools who had ‘the honor to view my portfolio’ (they always say that) thought of this piece. Sure, it may not have been as valuable as it is to my standards because I basically rushed it, but they wouldn’t know about it, would they? This artwork is literally the biggest in my portfolio (40″x17″), and the one with the highest level of competition (international). Well, I think it just comes down to what people see in the things that connect to you. USC and Harvard may have found a better connection between me and my artwork of a Hawaiian guy teaching a Haole guy to play an ukulele, and MIT and Illinois IT may have seen a deeper connection between me and my Strasbourg church artwork.

I have put countless hours and efforts with those pieces that I never remember putting in this “big” piece. They may have not seen or known about what was done behind my portfolio and each artwork, but I believe, as artists, they must have felt something about my other artworks… other artworks that didn’t need prestige to be noticed.

once my Polish friend visited me in Prague. we ordered traditional Czech food. He was taking photo so long that worried waitress came to ask if everything is OK…

I am back to Europe now and food makes such a big difference as I’d almost never eaten so-called  Western food. while in Asia. I missed potatoes, cheese and bread. Nothing more. Now I miss rice noodles, cheap food on every corner, available seafood and tones of chilli.

Every second person who is curious about my trip is asking me – and what about food?

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Streetfood everywhere

Sausages: Polish-Thai connection

My beloved soup

Seafood all-you-can-eat in Pattaya

Famous cooking classes:

My mother and I circa 1996. A rare display of affection from my 10 year old self. Now that I’m older, I would do anything just to be able to fly down to Florida give her a hug.

Not only beautiful temples but some calmness I’ve found there. Where I can concentrate. Where I can just be.

Inner beauty.

]]> http://thereluctantdaughter.wordpress.com/2013/05/12/mother-and-me-obligatory-relationship-post/ Sun, 12 May 2013 22:19:45 +0000 Batale http://thereluctantdaughter.wordpress.com/2013/05/12/mother-and-me-obligatory-relationship-post/ No post yesterday because the laptop was never even turned on.  Spent the day playing The Last Story on the Wii.  Today I refused to go near it as to do the half a dozen things I needed to do…and naturally have done none of them.  Beginning to sense a pattern with my life.

Anyway, today is International Mother’s Day – we Brits technically had that in March, but apparently May also has a Mother’s Day.  News to me, but who am I to judge?

As I’ve mentioned numerous times on this blog, my relationship with my mother is best described as problematic.  Things got a lot better post university, mostly due to an epiphany on my side, and for me not being a constant presence in her life.  But growing up, it seemed we were constantly butting heads.

There is a quote, by one famous graffiti artist that best describes my mother and me:

“A lot of mothers will do anything for their children, except let them be themselves.” – Banksy, Wall and Piece

(and yes, I do find it a little bit ridiculous that the best description of parenting in my childhood comes from a graffiti artist, but that is neither here nor there).

I won’t pretend that my upbringing was in any way tragic – there are things I resent my parents for, but all things considered I was very lucky growing up.  I had a lot of things going for me that others didn’t, and many of my issues come from other sources, not just my parents.  But looking back, it’s not difficult to see where life was harder for me than it ever should have had to be because of the flaws in our relationship.  And this quote pretty much sums them all up.  It’s something that becomes more and more apparent with time, especially as I talk to my colleagues at work or parents-stroke-children at Taekwondo and realise how different parenting is today (or at least, different to my own).

My mother loved me.  Loves me.  But she didn’t like me very much after I hit puberty.  For all of this talk to love being this great power and strength in the universe, I’d argue getting someone to like you is infinitely harder than loving you.  Love and hate are so easily intertwined it can actually be difficult not to love someone sometimes.  Liking who they are takes effort.

Looking at her relationship with my grandparents, and from stories I’ve heard, some of it probably stems from her own childhood.  Get the feeling that my grandmother didn’t really care what she did, and as such my mother didn’t get a lot of attention, for the good things she did or the bad.  In exchange, when her turn came around she decided attention was what she’d give her children.  Sounds good in theory, right up until it came to negative attention.

If your child is doing something wrong, scolding and criticising is par for the course.  Understandable.  But when that ‘wrong’ is your child not acting like every other child, it does more harm than good.  Especially when said child starts acting out in the highly confusing and depressing teen years.  Something I’m not sure my mother understood the same way my Dad did.

My Dad has admitted that although he didn’t like some of my choices growing up, they were mine to make and he wasn’t going to stop me.  I think mostly to make sure I wouldn’t stop wanting to see him, or maybe because he understood the importance of letting your offspring be themselves – either one is possible.  My mother on the other hand would fight me tooth and nail on every possible subject – perhaps when I was still in the womb she dreamed of the daughter she would have, or maybe she thought I was just after attention.

I’d been a slightly odd child, but it was obvious I wasn’t following the script when I hit the mid-teens.  In my defence, I’d argue I had have been a lot worse.  Yes, I was a demi-goth, didn’t style my hair or wear makeup, spent a fortune on books, manga and video games, and the highlight of my day was watching a cartoon about heavy muscled Japanese characters fly around screaming at each other.  My friends could be counted on 1 hand, and I rarely interacted with them outside of school (in my antisocial teen state I had pretty much decided I only wanted friends for protection in secondary school, rather than repeat the isolated primary years, and as a result had very little in common with them).  That and most of their outside interaction included inebriation.

Nearly every other female my age walked into school wearing foundation and straightened hair.  Nobody (save a handful of boys) knew what anime was, and spent the days talking about neighbours or reality TV or what guys they had crushes on at the time (and boy was that one fun to listen to).  And at the weekends they all met up in bars or outside the supermarkets or in their homes, and drank alcohol to excess.  It was a world I had no interest in…but it was the world my mother had been waiting to lead me into.

It was a frustrating time for both of us.  She often said if she said ‘black’, I’d say ‘white’ just to spite her.  She couldn’t understand why I had a warped view on appearances, or couldn’t communicate with people my age.  At restaurants and even at home, she’d try to convince me to drink alcohol in the hopes that I would ‘get over’ my silly aversion to alcohol since I would never be able to interact with people normally if I didn’t drink (and yes, she said this, on multiple occasions).

The saddest thing of it all, was that although she probably thought I was strong-willed and fiercely dependent?  I was miserable in my teen years – probably would have been diagnosed as depressed had I ever been checked.  Considering events at primary school this wouldn’t have come as a shock – but the one thing that would have given me strength?  Her support.  Had I gotten even the slightest inkling that she didn’t care that I was different, I could have gone through the teen years with my head held high – because my parents opinions were the only ones that mattered right then.

I got it at my Dad’s.  If anything I was a more extreme version of myself when I visited him because he never said anything about it.  He took in every outfit, every video, every glass of water and every warped idea in stride.  The only thing that changed was the location and the treatment I received for being myself – but I instantly felt happy just being there.  But my mother continually complained and argued with my choices – if something went wrong it was my fault for not being like everyone else.  She criticised nearly everything that mattered to me at the time, and then became confused when I stopped telling her things.

It lasted as long as it did because at the end of the day, she was my mother. I craved her acceptance like a starving man craves food.  She had no problems with my brother, who at the end of the day was a fairly typical boy in every way, but I longed to have her accept who I was, for her to like who I was and be okay with that.  I tried compromising on several things, holding back on clothes, biting my tongue when it came to my interests – even trying to show her Final Fantasy cut scenes so I could show her why I loved the games (after the 3^rd attempt just to get her to watch one ended with her yelling at me, I gave it up as a bad idea).  The result was both of us being almost constantly unhappy with the other.

It took nearly ten years for me to realise that was never going to happen, and that if I was going to be happy, her opinion couldn’t be given the weight it once had.  Instead I had to give her opinion the same level of respect as she gave mine.  A decision that probably saved our relationship.  I’d still say she’s not happy with my life, but she can’t argue that I haven’t made a successful one out of it in every area that matters, and that, she can live with, and so can I.

As many of you know, today is Mother’s Day.
So, in honor of the holiday, I am going to dedicate this post to my mother.

♥

My mom has always been my role model. She is kind, thoughtful, smart and not to mention beautiful!

If you were to dream of the perfect combination of mother and friend, my mom would be the resultant. She motivates me to be my best and always supports me in my choices. A educator by trade, everyday she teaches me something new. From learning how to tie my shoes, to guiding me through all the girl drama that comes along with growing up, my mom has been there for me.

Thank you mom for all that you have done, and continue to do for me.

I love you!

♥

Please remember to love your mom, today and every other day.

Never take advantage of the bond you share!

& if you are a mom yourself, Happy Mother’s Day!

♥

Here is a hilarious but true quote I found:

via http://madisonparkgroup.com/product-lines/madison-park-greetings/products/louie-award-finalists/mom-quotes-mothers-day-card

So true huh?

∞

Have an amazing week!

Xxo,

Staci

instagram: stacichristina

Pinterest and Twitter: @stacichristina

I decided to write a blog about what I am going through right now. It is not to say no one ever done this or been through this before. It is not even that ambitious to help other people, who are currently going through similar stage. As I believe, each other’s pain is individual. And no matter how much compassion this may give you, no matter how much you may find “this is me going through relationship crap” it is not. We all have our memories of the significant other. We all are going through similar, though not the same pain.

If this sounds uncertain. I will add a bit more of this incertainity. Which comes directly from my heart. I don’t know where is this going to head. There will be no flashforwards like in the Lost series, though there may be some flashbacks. I guess writing a relationship blog, it sort of gets inevitable.

So eventually, this is meant to be an experiment. I will write about my daily feelings, emotions, ups and downs, and I, myself am probably the most curious, where this is going to lead, how will the story go.

This is day 5.

G.

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the performance was broadcast in Japan on May 6