Intruded And Insulted

“The psychology of a language which, in one way or another, is imposed upon one because of factors beyond one’s control, is very different from the psychology of a language which one accepts of one’s free will.”~ Edward Sapir

The other afternoon I was taking a bit of a nap. It didn’t last long as I heard someone knocking on the door. So when I got up to answer the door, a very tall man (probably about 6’4″/ 193 cm) began to introduce himself as well as intimidate with his size to push me back away from the door and find his way inside of my home.

He sat down and introduced himself as a psychologist and wanted to come by and say “hello” and allow himself to be used at my disposal for my needs. I stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to figure out how he got inside so fast and then just made himself at home like he did.

Then he mentioned that “a neighbor” was concerned about me, considering the pain and suffering I had this past January from doing what I had to do when I was assaulted. Allegedly, this neighbor was concerned about my mental health and safety and gave him a call to come by.

Well, as much as I appreciated the idea that the neighbor was thinking about me this really wasn’t anything that I had in mind on how to deal with the traumatic situation that I had gone through. Yes, perhaps a psychologist. But not one that just walks through my door and sits down and starts asking me a bunch of questions. And trust me, this gets worse and it shouldn’t have.

So I gave him all of the gruesome details about the assault. The way I had protected myself, the death, and what had happened. As I was talking about it, he began to sit on the edge of the couch as if he was watching some intense moment on television.

When I had finished he sat back and exhaled. He shook his head and with plenty of profanity, he expressed how rotten that this had happened to me and that people suck… really, really SUCK.

He said something along the lines of he was glad it was just the one time. But I informed him that I have been no stranger to assault in this area in the past few years. People wanting my wallet or whatever I had.

He was shocked to hear that there was a lot more to my past with crime than just the one time. He began to laugh and laugh and laugh. More profanity as he exclaimed with his excitement. At some point, he had to stop me from going through everything. And then his reaction and comment was totally and completely insulting in my humble opinion.

He looked me in the face and said, “Man! You are a really big shit magnet!!”. And then he continued to laugh and laugh.

Umm…

I understand that it is so wild that I have been targeted many times for people who were willing to commit criminal activities and intrude upon me, but to insult me like that was totally unprofessional, uncalled for, and rude.

So then he said that I should call him in a few weeks and he will come out again and we will come back and talk to me. This guy apparently does visits in people’s homes. And I think that could work to other people’s advantage that he would come to them. I just do not understand how he keeps his job by behaving like he does. Especially how he behaved in front of me. Almost like he was having a great time hearing the stories that I was telling him. Stories of crime and of course, pain.

What really sticks out in my mind, is the laughing. And the swearing in his thoughts that some how I am some kind of person that attracts these bad things that has happened to me in the past few years. Almost to say that it is all MY fault.

And he says he wants to help me through the process of dealing with it. Now, I am not quite sure on how he is going to do that when I am feeling smaller and smaller as he laughs at me.

Clearly this is not the best guy for the job. Not if I am going to be feeling little about things. Isn’t he supposed to empower me instead? And clearly I have a neighbor out there somewhere, of course I was not told who it was, but whomever it was: Thank you for the thought, but mind your own business!!

Post-Traumatic Experiences

Certain things that happen, shape us for who we are. We have our joyous moments and we have our depressive times. I believe that whatever comes our way, builds our character and helps to mold us into the person that we become.

We gain strength through our struggles, and share in celebration of our accomplishments.

This post however, deals with personal traumatic experiences. Most of us have gone through them. Many of us who have survived them are able to carry on. But some have difficulty with their previous experiences. In other words, some do well… some do not.

Yesterday evening, I went to the store to pick up some bread and other items. It was not far from my home so I was able to get out and go and come right back. When I was exiting the store, life has we know it was carrying on. Until a man showed up around the corner. He was approaching from the opposite direction. And then a moment later, he brought a pistol and fired it until it was empty. I had enough sense and probably the best of instincts to abort from my wheelchair and kiss the concrete before anything had happened and stayed there until the loud popping had stopped. (I was not injured or hurt. Neither was anyone else.)

The only casuality, was the bread. Instead of hamburger buns, it had turned into thinly sliced bread. Still, I can use it though!

Certain situations like these, are what I believe to cause people to suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. Other situations such as assault, rape, and war also are known to cause post-traumatic stress disorder.

What I am finding rather odd, is that my mind is not filled with re-living last night’s events. But my mind is focused more on the assault from last January where it had become a situation of life and death and doing what I had to do in order to protect myself.

There are no feelings of being afraid or scared. Only feelings of just being really pissed off. Frustration, anger, and the continuous attempts of trying to make sense of everything that happened so long ago.

For many people who deal with this kind of thing, it is possible that a little extra help might do them some good. A friend, a caring person, a smile, and a listening ear.

Some survivors actually would benefit from going a step further and seeking therapy to allow themselves to think and feel without judgement and release their fears and feelings about what had happened to them. Thus I believe that it does help with the healing process from their mental anguish.

Therapy is not the devil. Going to therapy also does not automatically imply that you are crazy, or you are the weakest person on the planet. In fact, therapy is a sign of courage and strength, and it shows you have the desire to make things better in your life instead of just allowing the problems to eat you up inside.

I would actually applaud those who actively seek therapy as a tool for mental health. The strength and empowerment one can receive by going to therapy can be limitless. When I hear someone tell me that they are considering or have started to go to therapy, my response is always the same, “GOOD FOR YOU!”.

Personally, I am no stranger to it. How else would I know so much about cognitive distortions??

To say or believe that you are weak, because you need a little extra help, is a lie!! Don’t be influenced by society and peers to control you in what you should do with your life. Find the help and allow yourself the opportunity to live your life by your own choices and not the choices of others because they are ignorant. Even the world’s strongest man has days of weakness.

Find out for yourself whether or not it is right for you. And if you do decide to seek help– GOOD FOR YOU!! Just stick with it. Results are not going to happen overnight. Allow yourself the time your body and mind will need to adjust and heal.

And for those reading who have a personal relationship with me: I am doing okay. I’m angry of course. But also know that I slept very well last night and I’m not sitting on the couch, staring at the ceiling re-living it over and over again. Physically, I’m uninjured. The guy’s aim pretty much SUCKED. Nobody else was hurt. And its rumored he had his ass kicked while in a holding cell after he was hauled to jail. Whether or not that is true does not matter to me. I am alive!!

 

 

 

You’re Discharged

This has got to be one of the craziest Mondays I have ever had in my entire life!

I am getting the feeling that I am about to have a lot of free time on my hands in the very near future.

If you have read my posts in the past few days, you’ll understand that a lot has happened over the course of last weekend and a few days beforehand. Of course being “let go” of a volunteer job which turned into a scene straight out of a mid-afternoon soap opera. That was a great start to the day, I thought.

Then my wheelchair got ruined when it collapsed, and I am still trying to work with a different and getting used to it so that I can still be me and live my life. Something as small as a broken wheelchair is certainly a hinderance but it should not stop me. So I’m not going to let it.

But what I find truly astonishing is the fact that the wheelchair that I am using now is a lot closer to the ground and I am using more arm strength to get it to move. This unfortunately has caused a deep muscle injury to be irritated once again and cause enough discomfort that I am just wincing whenever I move. I thought that it was that I had to get used to this wheelchair that I am in now, but now I understand that is hardly the case at all. Its the overuse of my arms and shoulders.

So over the weekend, I’ve been pretty out of it. I’m in physical therapy as well as occupational therapy at my begging of my doctor. I’ve only been through this round of PT/OT for the third week out of eight that is coming to me. PT had a little bit of a late start, but I’m doing pretty well. OT on the other hand got started almost immediately when I got signed on again for home health care.

I’m told now that Medicare has different rules now about patient evaluation. They are to come in and evaluate after the ninth and thirteenth visit. It only makes sense that it adds up to a total of sixteen visits. With OT, I’ve had four so far. The fifth to come again in two days.

In the past I must add, that whenever OT has come by, they’ve worked with me using myofascial massage therapy. And it is great! It really has helped a lot. It helped so much that I actually had one therapist coming over twice a week and I believe that one person was here for about six months, until they got scared that they might be investigated for fraud because they have to show a solid reason to be here to work with me.

The issue is where I have pain is my trapezious muscles. This came from an assault from a crackhead who wanted something that belonged to me and not him. I fought him back and the jerk & I ended up on the ground, wrestling and fighting one another until someone came over and tried to render aid. Well the crackhead when he fell, landed on my back, damaging deep down that muscle. That was two years ago this month and I am still having pain.

It might not be so much from the assault that I am having issues with pain, but rather the fact that I have to use those same exact muscles that were damaged in order to push my wheelchair forward. So it only goes in this vicious cycle of having to use these muscles and therefore getting a lot of pain from it. Yes, the entire situation is very unfortunate to say in the least.

But coming back to the point of this past weekend, and having to deal with another wheelchair and all, I’ve just been a complete mess.

I had a scheduled OT appointment this afternoon. I can not tell you just how much I was ready for them to come in and help work out that muscle some what to alleviate some of the pain. That muscle is very, very tight at the moment and anything would help.

This is the part of what I feel is extremely unfair:

The OT person was five minutes late. No big deal, traffic happens I am sure.

Then there was about 5-10 minutes of socializing and chatter. And then another five minutes or so towards the end of the visit.

By the time the OT person left, I counted off the minutes as if they were on time, and they were only here for 35 minutes. Subtract the five minutes of being late, and the ten minutes of talk at the most, and the five minutes at the end, and I get a grand total of probably 15 minutes of myofascial massage. That was it! And that is if I am being generous.

In previous times with the other OT person, that visit would be 45 minutes long, 50 at the most. And today I get 15 minutes after being in so much discomfort.

So let’s add on to the frustration, shall we?

Even before they got started with the massage, they sat there and told me to my face that they were going to discharge me after the next visit. They suggested that I call my doctor and have him change my medicine to a muscle relaxer.

Great, can you see me on those?? And I thought I was really bad while dealing with the effects of hydrocodone as it puts me into one of those types of moods where people are drunk and they get to the point where they say, “I LOOOOOOVEEE YOUUUUU!!!”…

Yeah, I turn into that guy! Which is very difficult for me to maintain any kind of mutual platonic relationship with a person of the opposite gender. (Especially online with those who are in earlier time zones. When I take that medicine at night and I am almost ready to retire for bed, their evening is hardly coming to a close. I am totally shocked that these women haven’t given me the boot already from previous medicine-induced behavior, whether they knew that was the cause or not.)

A muscle relaxer! Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, over?!?

The other thing that was suggested was to go to a shopping mall and take in those massages chairs that you see all of the time. I’ve done that before. Its quite nice. I recall once that I got worked on so well that when I got back into my wheelchair and moved away, I felt like I was floating a low-lying cloud! Pretty funny, eh?

So yeah, even though that might work, the suggestion was to go do that a couple times a week. I now have to sit and wonder if this OT person is actually thinking that I am made of money? Don’t get me wrong, I did admit to having it done before and I enjoyed it. But I cannot financially support that kind of self-help therapy.

When they come by again in two days, and after they discharge me.. I will be left alone with just PT. My back will go on untreated. Much like it was today. It bothers the heck out of me that I’m in this position. Why is it that since they cannot find a cure for this, that they just want to give up? Or why does it seem that way??

At any rate, I’m open to suggestions on how to deal with this inconvenience.  Comments below are extremely welcomed.

 

 

Ties, ties, everywhere there’s ties

I have been there for my friends for as long as I can remember. But now with the Internet and social networking sites, there’s the wide range of possibilities to meet new people and create even more friends and colleagues.

And with that goes the responsibility of having to put up with other people’s days when things are not going so well. Life isn’t always a peach, so when it is the pits- that becomes the true test of whether or not your friendship with that person is true and loyal.

Ever since my first days of being online, I’ve always been there for my friends and colleagues when they have been having it rough. I allowed them to vent, cry, cuss someone else out behind their backs, and do whatever it took to make sure that by the end of all of it, they felt better. I would even be so bold as to maybe offering help and advice at times when they asked for it.

I have fooled around with the notion that I have become some what of an online psychologist. I’m that shoulder to cry on, that ear that will listen. Clearly I say this jokingly as I am not a licensed psychologist.

I have sat through many long conversations online where I have been told that they were in tears, and just needed someone to listen. Yeah, I’m “that guy”. I could probably log in enough hours to have my own little corner of the world and sit by a table with a sign over my head that says, “5¢ please.”

As the years have gone by, the scenario changes. But I’m still that same guy that will stop whatever I am doing and listen to someone if they are speaking to me. Especially if they feel that they are in some kind of crisis or if they feel that they are just going to explode inside.

If any of you have ever watched Dr. Phil on television, then you know where I get the new catch phrase, “I wear the tie.” Yep, that’s me! I am the one that wears the tie. A few people realize this. They laugh and think its cute. But they also understand that I am actually going to be there for them. Most others do not. And this is what I am telling you. I am there for you, and I always will be there for you.

A few people have taken the opportunity to have me listen to them. Others, have not. There are times though that those who do not take that chance, I sometimes wished that they would. But its all a matter of personal choice. I’m never going to force someone to talk to me. Especially during stressful and difficult times.

I have been burned a few times. This is true. I have given my full attention in the past to people and all that they ever did was use me for their chance to just have themselves talk. They weren’t seeking any kind of personal relief from their woes, just personal satisfaction from the thought that someone is finally going to listen to them, and all they do is talk to hear themselves talk.

With the good, always will come the bad. That’s just life in a nutshell.

I received a text message this morning around 1:30 AM. Someone who I had earlier in the day given a text message to, and they were finally able to get around to answering me back. Their day was so bad that it got stressful and confusing as well as distracting and so therefore, that’s what happened. The response came, but it came late.

So I got out of bed and got online and had them tell me what was going on, and explain why it was so late for them to get back to me.

I took a very brutal beating for nearly an hour as they let their frustrations go. But in the end, I had them laughing. They left and I went back to bed. And that was that.

I was not in the direct line of fire from their frustration, but they were able to just get it off their chest. I was glad to have been there for support.

I take these things seriously. Because I know that I too, sometimes need a shoulder to cry on. Does the reciprocation happen as often as I deal with it? No. So what though?

I will literally get out of bed and talk with someone on the phone, online, or in person if they are in need. Doors have been open 24/7 for over 10 years now. And I don’t suppose that’s going to change in the future because that’s the friend that I am.

People have needs. No matter how shallow or great. Its up to the true test of courage as to whether or not you are able to take the good with the bad OR if you’re the kind of person that will only take the good and remove yourself from the bad, trying to avoid it. Just ask yourself: “Wouldn’t I want them to be there for you?”.

I’m not saying let them walk all over you either. You should know the difference between a cry on your shoulder and someone just out for attention. But a friend in need should have friends, indeed.