This blog is about my journey.

It is also about shining the light on the path for others....it's about the process of finding our own power through believing in ourselves as our source, finding hope when hope was lost.

But today this is about me and my path. My story. My loss. My grief.

Thank you for walking beside me today.

water of spring gives
the seed new life after sleep
tears wash the soul free

In Memory - Life is a song....Patrick Park

This is a repost in memory of the friend who suggested this song to me.

Walk on and be in peace, my friend. May your spirit ride the wings of eagles and rest within the warmth of your pack.

Originally posted March 29 2009.

You say life is a dream where we can't say what we mean
Maybe just some roadside scene that we're driving past
There's no telling where we'll be in a day or in a week
And there's no promises of peace or of happiness


Well is this why you cling to every little thing
And polverize and derrange all your senses
Maybe life is a song but you're scared to song along
Until the very ending


Oh, it's time to let go of everything we used to know
Ideas that strengthen who we've been
It's time to cut ties that won't ever free our minds
From the chains and shackles that they're in


Oh, tell me what good is saying that you're free
In a dark and storming sea
You're chained to your history, you're surely sinking fast
You say that you know that the good Lord's in control
He's gonna bless and keep your tired and oh so restless soul
But at the end of the day when every price has been paid
You're gonna rise and sit beside him on some old seat of gold
And won't you tell me why you live like you're afraid to die
You'll die like you're afraid to go


Oh, it's time to let go of everything we used to know
Ideas that strengthen who we've been
It's time to cut ties that won't ever free our minds
From chains and shackles that they're in
From the chains and shackles that they're in


Well life is a dream 'cause we're all walking in our sleep
You could see us stand in lines like we're dead upon our feet
And we build our house of cards and then we wait for it to fall
Always forget how strange it is just to be alive at all

The Sting of Stigma and Unconditional Love: "The Wind Never Lies" Part 2

Here is a link to read part one of "The Wind Never Lies" by Steve Morgan

The comment below came from Mel, a friend on Facebook, who had this to tell me about a friends tragic journey through the mental health system after reading my post (an excerpt) from "The Wind Never Lies" - you can read the original and entire article here at Beyond Meds.

"Thank you so much for sharing this little treasure Susan! I'm still reading but there are so many things that jump out; ah ha...

Years before my trauma, when life was stable with good health my best friend was diagnosed with Bipolar. This was my first real intimate exposure to mental illness. Over the next five years I would visit her everyday during the 2 -3 times a year when she was hospitalized.

After 5 years from her diagnosis, she developed stiff neck and crossed eyed syndrome while we were on a weekend whistler trip. Within days she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. She was given weeks to live.

Did she fall between the cracks of the medicare system? Who knows, they say bipolar can mimic brain tumors. They never investigated the possibility of anything other than she is crazy and lets load her up on pills and ECT treatment.

My point is, as she lay dying in the hospital, so many people began to arrive to pay their respects to her, her husband and family, the same people who made jokes and abandoned her years prior. The stigma attached to labeling someone can be so harsh.

Perhaps my exposure to how society views mental illness has contributed to my own isolation living with PTSD, fear of being stuck forever in this place which others say I cannot recover from and heal."

( Below is the response I got from Mel when I asked if I could publish her story here...this note is a true portrayal of what unconditional love looks like in action....)

"For sure you can post it. I love talking about Julie's story. She was so amazing. Funny thing was I always told her I didnt think she was bipolar, some would view her as acting crazy at times but strangely I saw it as being in another dimension or something. I never told her that seeing men in trees was her imagination, just that I couldnt see them. I spent the last 5 years of her life protecting her and not from herself but from the cruelty of society...

The cool thing about her case is a board member of opthamology in BC pushed the government to include eye care into the medicare coverage. He was really moved by her case and felt she could have been diagnosed earlier had she been to get her eyes checked regularly. "

Once given the label "Mental Illness" many become "marked" and treated as "less than". Once this mark has been given, it often becomes the basis for discrimination, abuse and neglect.

Stop the Sting of Stigma.

You can find Mel on Facebook here.

If you or someone you know has had similar experiences, I would like to invite you to contact me by leaving a comment here or...

Via Facebook here

Via twitter click here

"Good enough", "doing it right" and my jammies

Tonight I realized just how far I've come.

For the longest time - like my entire life I suppose - I have lived under that shadow, that remnant of my childhood where no matter what I did or said it wasn't "right". There was always some criticizm or abuse that would come of it. A slap alongside the head, "boxing" of my ears, "dumcoft" (one of three words my father taught me in german; my "heritage"). "Shut up", "brat" and "idiot" was the norm in our house (you notice I didnt say "home").

There was probably just as much or more abuse from my older siblings as there was from my parents so the math would be 2 parents + 5 older siblings. In general some ridicule of my very existence every day regardless of the wistful wishes of being heard, hugged or loved in any not sexual or physical hurtful way.

This affected me my entire life to the point that no matter what I did or said even in the privacy of my own home as an adult ---years and decades after "getting away" from the battelground that was my childhood ---I could not be "ok" with just about any choice or decision that I made. I had become completely frozen. Afraid to speak. Afraid to take a step. I reached a point in my family that I would start to shake out of terror that one of the "wicked stepsisters" (half sisters) or my father would begin to question me which would always lead to some ridicule and eventually more verbal, emotional and psychological abuse if I even attempted to exert any kind of control or choice over my own life.

Tonight it was my PJ's. As I was pulling my old stretched out grey t shirt over my head and my bright blue stretchy comfy pant on with my old navy blue nike zip up sweatshirt with a hood along with my wool socks that have holes in them....

The thought went through my mind of how in the past I would have:

1. felt shame for not having "nice" or "real" pajamas, matching robe and slippers (god only knows what "nice" was because no matter how much I paid for it it was never "nice" enough) AND not going to bed with bright white teeth, picture perfect hair and the makeup that never seemed to wash off

And/or:

2. if anyone would knock on my door unexpectedly like a neighbor asking to borrow that famed cup of sugar from the Ozzie and Harriet type tv shows ---I would either hurriedly try to freshen myself up enough all the while apologizing for my drab not new at all sweats and tshirt (like they even give a rip?)

But tonight I realized that while those thoughts and feelings still lurk in the back of my mind as does the potential for that related anxiety...that I was ok with my frumpy not pretty pj's. Finally I dont feel as though I need to apologize for walking into a room or calling you on the phone --- or for the clothes I wear, the food I eat, the life I live.

Finally I can acknowledge the confusing feelings I've had as I vacillate back and forth between that love/hate feelings I have about my family. Finally I can put responsiblity on the adults in my life that hurt and neglected me instead of making excuses for them and their behavior. Finally I can let go and say that I wasn't bad, it wasn't my fault, I can't fix it. Finally I understand and accept that my thoughts, feelings, choices...my existance...are and always have been just fine... and so are my jammies tonight.