When You Are "Playing Church" Christianity Doesn't Work.

After four years of trying to handle a very self-righteous person (in my own way), I left my church and religion all together. Here, I'd paid my tithes, come to all called meetings and put up with a lot of guff and I ain't getting blessed! All that stuff was done with my body, but, in my heart, I RESENTED it all! I was "playing church".

This is a theater production, staring me, with all my fellow Christians as my audience. My goal was to get acclamation: "Wow, you are sure dedicated,", "You are sure spiritual." and a general level of appreciation reserved for, oh, say Saint Paul of Tarsus! (Perhaps a pride issue?) Yes, I was for-real a Christian, but I was still deeply lost in the desert of not really trying to follow God's directions.

When your ego is under control, you can slide right around self-righteous people. They engage you in a conversation with the goal of proving that they are a better Christian, then you are. A problem person tried getting in my face and screaming at me, that I was just making excuses for something she was doing properly. I sincerely thanked her for caring so much about me. I also thanked her for the information. She literally walked away from me, and hasn't bothered me since that last conversation. I was no longer taking the bait. Who cares what someone THINKS of me. God evaluation is the one that matters.

When I finally came back to church, I did change churches, but stayed in the same denomination. My new church is full of Christians who have faced some very difficult life issues. It is not a question of "if" someone is in ICU, but "who" is in ICU. The core group of the church has leaned how to really try and live their faith. They try very hard to actually walk their talk. They refer to it as "selling out to Jesus". From that point onward, you will seriously try to obey God, even when you are alone. In other words: "Character is what you do when you don't think anyone is watching." Oh! I had to say "ouch" on that one. My private life and my public church life were universes apart. "Oooh, I say 'ouch'!"

I began to actually try and get to know this God. Oh, I knew tons of "facts", but unlike Moses, I had no clue as to His ways. I said a simple prayer that galvanized my life. "God let me learn to know you, like I would any other friend." I wasn't being disrespectful, but my private prayer life was non-existent. My 'pray with a partner' prayer life was flawless. Back to "playing church", again.

I forced myself to sit before God for an hour each day and NOT petition Him. For me to not talk for that long is truly a divinely implanted miracle. My flesh will talk, even when I know nothing about the subject.

I began to sense God was indeed a real presence. He had a 'feel', just like all our other friends have a 'feel'. They all have unique personalities. I then realized God seemed to actually 'like' me. Yes, I know the scriptures - "God so loved the world..." but I'm speaking of meeting Him in prayer, not by reading His Word.

I then began to find a new attitude of willingness springing up inside, when it came to "obeying". Before, "don't drink (alcohol)" meant: "don't drink alcohol in front of anyone from church, but in secret, GO FOR IT!" Alcohol hadn't caused me any trouble for at least five years. Even my HMO felt I didn't have an issue around my small consumption of alcohol. But, the denomination I'm in really believes it is off-limits, like sex outside of marriage. Don't do it AT ALL. The operative instruction is NO! So, I went home and poured down the sink, $10 of some tasty liquor I loved to have in my coffee. I haven't had any alcohol since the day I made that commitment. No, angels didn't fly around me singing Praises to God. But I no longer felt like I was living a double life.

I will still go to a bar, if that is all that is open, like in some hotels. But soft drinks, water and coffee are served differently when not doctored with alcohol. If someone from church sees me, I know I'm not lying - my breath won't betray me either!

After living this undivided lifestyle for about six months, I've discovered something wonderful. All the blessings I thought I wanted are happening. I am admired, praised publicly and am popular within my church. I now am a bit nervous about all of this. My heart turns to God, to keep me from getting it mixed up on who is doing what. I am getting me more and more out of the way to let God do things through me. I can't take credit for a song I sing, a prayer I pray, or anything else I accomplish.

All these things are gifts God prepared for me to participate in before the worlds were formed. He gets the credit. Since I know I can easily return to being really prideful, I pray for help from God not to get trapped into thinking I’m so wonderful.I truly understand that my willingness to give all of my life and myself to Jesus makes it possible for God to enter so strongly into my life. I now know levels of thankfulness I didn't even know existed before. At this time in my life, I'm reaping success. It won't always be that way. Paul suffered a lot, who am I kidding to believe I won't suffer, as Jesus said we would? But learning to not live a lie, has given me the clarity of thought to trust God's ways more, and the advice of the world less. I am thankful that I'm beginning to learn how to really "do" Gods Word and not just read it.

My Low Vision: Revisiting The Pain Of Being Disabled.

I'm high up in the Berkeley Hills cat sitting a charming black, gray, brown and white 'from the pound' cat. She likes me, and is the first cat I've been around who licks me to show her affection. Think: tiny, warm and wet sandpaper strokes. There is true satisfaction in being entrusted with a beloved pet. I am amazed how badly some well-off folks get treated. If they didn't have extra money, I'd not have a job.

I get a deep satisfaction in caring for the animal, and also doing more then my job requires. These dear people are computer 'babes in the woods'. They have had a computer for three years and have never backed up their data! Since I believe paranoia is a survival skill, I've made it my business to back up their home folder. They were really surprised. How hard is it to be 'nice'?

When discussing money they added to my wage so I could buy my own food, but then went out and bought some stuff for me. I don't want to turn down a gift, but I felt I was being paid twice. The lady's facial expression totally changed and she decided to add MORE money to my wages. So, I have eight days with an older iMac, great lighting for print reading and wonderful food.

Being I am pretty good on my own Macintosh, I quickly went about making the adjustments I use for my low vision. I use the Dvorek keyboard layout. (Thank gawd, they had THAT!) But I have no reverse video, or zoom capability. No reverse video is killing my eyes. Things that are effortless and fun at home are slow, painful and difficult here. I'd completely forgotten how different computers and reading used to be. I'm not happy at the moment.

It is very tiring, mildly painful, physically uncomfortable and absolutely NO FUN! These folks have an older Mac with OS X 10.1.8. Tiny font settings, yahoo as their Internet connection and Internet Explorer 5 for their browser! I would gladly pay the $129. For the Panther update - but I know they will buy it for themselves. All of that doesn’t help me now. I am amazed I accomplished, however badly, all I've done with my low vision. But, I now remember why I am unemployable in most circumstances. It hurts and stirs up a sadness I usually don't have to deal with.

I have worked very, very hard, most of my life, attempting to prove to myself and everyone else, that I'm not REALLY disabled. I believed I could overcome it by working harder, longer and in spite of physical discomfort. It has taken God years to divorce me from an over-inflated pride. I can do a lot of things, but unless I have complete control over the computer. The gain is for-sure not worth the pain. I hated myself for years, when I finally resigned myself to being on 'the system' for the rest of my life. My psychiatrist asked an interesting question: "CyberGal, are you sure that refusing to beat your head against a brick wall, any longer isn't a sign of dealing with reality and not a personal failing?" My head knows he's correct, but my emotions still churn.

My working harder, longer and in pain is an example of NOT working smart. Working smart is my computer at home. Reverse video takes the eyestrain pain away. Keyboard under monitor enables me to sit up straight, while at the computer, which takes the neck and back pain away. Finally, being able to control fonts and font sizes turns very slow 'guess what it is' reading into the joy of gliding over text I am sure I am reading correctly. This older computer has the nice moveable flat screen, and if it didn't have that, I wouldn't be using it much at all. Now, I retell the story of a lens for every occasion.

I have bi-focal glasses for improved general clarity and an 8x bubble magnifier, for quick reading of mail, or other larger then normal things. All my regular ‘glasses’ have a short focal length of 1/4 Inch or less. I have my 'at home' 12x reading glasses, that enable me to read 99% of printed material. For travel and the tech magazines, which insist on printing examples in light, skinny, tiny fonts, I have 15x glasses that were rigged up for me with a jeweler's loop mounted (backwards) in a frame. Then we have the most difficult lens system I've ever encountered, the telescopic monocular.

This device does two very different things. With no reading 'cap' attached, it works just like a regular binocular. Since it has one tube and not two, it is called a monocular. Range in distance is about 3x - 4x. This two to three inch tube is indeed mounted in a pair of glasses, which are very heavy and uncomfortable to wear. They are truly a contraption, but with them I can read about 1 and 1 half inches away from the material. I do this with the 'reading cap', a 2x - 8x lens which fits over the end of the monocular, turning it from a weak telescope, to a medium microscope. Distance is everything, when to lean over a fixed keyboard, to read the monitor, causes one to push keys with their breasts! I brought down a database because of this very problem, at San Francisco State University. Needless to say, that database was not accessible to me any more!

These lenses can magnify from 8x - 40x. They require weeks to adjust to. I have to cover them with electrical tape to block out stray light. I still get headaches when I use them. They are my lenses of last resort.

I now can deal with the very real grief work of putting up with years of unnecessary pain in the name of trying to do the impossible. I could weep at my self-hatred and unabashed arrogance, which drove me for all those years. Forty-five, was the age at which I surrendered to being unemployable. Oh, sure, I have little part-time jobs, but I have never been able to make enough money to really support myself since Windows replaced DOS. I feel and accept sadness over that entire struggle.

Without God, His goodness and the knowledge that He can arrange anything, I'd drift into bitterness. I refuse to go there. To me, there is nothing quite as ugly as a bitter blind person. With better visual aids, I'm manning a website, running this blog, working with Real Basic and doing Bible research. As I see my continued 'growing up' I do still hope to leave Social Security for a real, self-supporting job, but my hope is tempered with the reality that 75% of blind folks have Bachelor's degrees, or Masters AND 75% of us are under employed enough to require Social Security.

My energy in leaving me. I'm hunched over a keyboard reading the bottom line on a slanted monitor, writing this blog. I realize, if I had a lot of my early years of pain to do over again, I wouldn't. That makes me really sad, as I did force myself to read many fine print books, attempt engineering, calculus, psychology and even looked into attending a seminary.

But, now that I don't have to prove the impossible, I can honestly admit, that after this eight days of fooling around with real print, and a computer that is not accessible to me, I will be less ready to buy a print book, or deal with any computer, but my own.

I have to admit to a small hope, of being able to work at my church's PC. After these eight days - six of which have passed. I thank God; I had the sense not to try it. I would hate to sob in front of my Pastor. Sometimes, there is sadness. I know joy will come in the morning. I know my friends love me and understand me, probably better then I understand myself. I know God loves me and is not mad at me for expressing some pain. I know someone out there needs to see this aspect of recovery. Maybe you have a different challenge. Low hearing, a paraplegic, or a quadriplegic. There is a place to tell this part of the truth also. I look at it like this. Once I can admit my sadness, I can pray to God to help me find a new perspective and to learn and grow from the sadness.

Continuing Recovery: Apologizing, And The Fear Of Setting Limits.

In my last post I came down hard on dishonest sales practices. I offended the individual I was discussing. This person wrote a nearly unreadable comment for this blog and a longer email to me personally. My first reaction was gut-wrenching fear.

Fear began to corrode into the insane compulsion to 'people please'. I had caused this person pain. They made sure I knew how I'd hurt them, in word and action. The small child almost bought some of their product. I didn't intend to hurt anyone. Thankfully, I had the sense to flee to God in pray, and not to the internet to BUY.

What to do? I changed my mind about letting the garbled comment, complete with the individual's identity stand. Another unwanted comment, had accidentally been approved - which was more smarmy adver-speak from someone else. I deleted both comments. I then sent a personal email to the afflicted individual. I have been advised: "Never apologize. Its a sign of weakness." I don't believe that for a second.

Since I slammed a person publicly, who may not have intended to offend me, I felt and still feel that my apology was in order. If I read this person wrong, perhaps they should move on from me to someone else who isn't as dense. It has been my experience, that when someone accuses me of something and they are totally wrong, it really doesn't stir up much reaction.

You say I'm a prostitute. I know I haven't had sex of any kind for the last eight years. I would question you, as to what caused you to think that way towards me and learn from your answer.

On the other hand, if what you accuse me of is actually true, but I don't want to admit to the behavior, or I refuse to be responsible for the behavior, I'm going to get very, very upset inside (if not publicly). Usually, what you bring up about me, I have already spotted and tagged (in my mind) about YOU. Now, before I learned the folly of pointing one finger out at you, with three pointing back at me, I would use all my intellectual ability to dissect and dice your character, until you would leave me alone. Anybody recognize the manipulative tactic of trying to cause shame?(This is an excellent way to drive healthy people out of your life).

I still am nervous about having hurt someone, but refuse to do any more about it. If I am contacted by the offended party, I will speak to them, but I refuse to be manipulated into buying anything. What I have done is been willing to DO SOMETHING EVEN IF IT IS WRONG.

For years, I was paralyzed into total inactivity, unless I was sure that I'd come out 'right'. So, I basically ran my life via apathy, people-pleasing and guilt-tripping people. These strategies failed me miserably and kept me trapped in feeling like a huge victim.

I now have enough confidence in myself to allow for making mistakes. I have made the astounding discovery, that a real apology builds character and can open up opportunities for growth unimaginable to my less healthy self. I rejoice I'm willing to act at all. My old self would have bought products I didn't want and listened to hours of whining speeches I didn't care to hear, in the name of 'friendship'. Trapping not only myself, but the other individual in our mutual pools of misery.

I also have decided to take a page from my church's behavior. There are certain standards they require and will enforce. It is not acceptable to swear like a sailor, in church, or when speaking to Pastor privately. Potty mouth has always been a life-style for me. I used to think it made me look grown-up, confident and strong.

No, it shows that I'm into intellectual laziness. It takes very little effort to parrot a slang expression. It takes real mental energy to figure out what you truly are trying to communicate about a situation. My pastor is very gentle, but insistent with me, on language use. Because I trust him, I don't fear being honest in his presence. Because he is kind and gentle about his rebuke, I'm willing to really make an effort to change my behavior. I pray about this issue daily, as it is a habit I've cultivated for decades.

A friend came to my home and we were chatting over coffee. He likes to be outrageous by insisting that he likes to wear women's clothing, loves other men and in general acts like an overt gay male. Frankly, I don't like it and got tired of hearing about pink TuTu's, his sex fantasies and infatuations. He wanted to tell me about the funny ad for the upcoming Gay Freedom Day Parade in San Francisco.

That event turns my stomach. I did something I've never done before. Its my house, I don't want to talk about gay sex any more. Let's talk about something else. I waited for my friend to rage at me, guilt-trip me, or begin to turn against me. Just as I do with my friends and their limits, he stopped that line of conversation, with no further incident. Amazing.

I didn't loose a friend, and I feel physically better, not having to think of the drek of The Gay Freedom Day Parade (of ludeness). I would be just as disgusted if it were a bunch of heterosexuals being lude in public. I don't like seeing private acts done in front of me, on a public sidewalk, while I'm trying to get to the Opera House in San Francisco.

I remember the first time I ran into a limit with another friend. He doesn't like anything of a smutty nature - even the mild stuff. Thankfully, I asked him if he wanted to hear my favorite dirty joke. He politely said 'no'. I am astounded that other people act with me, as I acted with my friend. Much as I think the joke is funny, I haven't shared it because I've been asked not to. How refreshing that I don't have to lose friends over my new-found desire to set some limits in my own house.

Limits are difficult for abuse survivors. Our personal body, mind and spirit were grossly invaded when we were children and therefore the concept of 'no', can be very difficult to learn in issues of our personal space. Here's the great news. Setting limits frees you from unnecessary pain. Not having to resist the temptation to be angry at someone for doing something you don't like, frees up your energy for more positive things. You will discover the fantastic notion of respecting yourself. You aren't letting people walk all over you any longer!

Any new behavior always feels insane, at first. I can only continue to document my ongoing recovery. I'm actually honoring commitments to myself these days. I feel stronger and more alive then ever before. I now exercise most days for an hour by walking. My health is improving.

I'm realizing I have a right to organize my life. I have a right to terminate bad things, encourage more of something good and I have the responsibility to face up to criticism, when I'm wrong. These are the traits of a maturing adult. If I learn to take criticism without tears, or other manipulative tactics, people will be more able to incorporate me into their projects. I become more employable, in the personality department. Most important, I can accept respect from others, because I am now doing things I respect within myself. I again reproduce a wonderful poem by an unknown author:

A Biography In Five Chapters, author unknown

Chapter 1.

I walk down the street and fall in a hole, I didn't see.

It is deep and dark.

It takes me a long time to get out of it, but I do get out of it, finally.

I continue down the street.


Chapter 2.

I walk down the street, see the hole, but fall into it anyway.

This time, however, I get out much faster.

I continue down the street.


Chapter 3.

I walk down the street, see the hole, fall in and get out really quick!

Its a habit.

I continue to walk down the street.


Chapter 4.

I walk down the street, see the hole and walk around it.

I continue to walk down the street.


Chapter 5.

I walk down a different street.

"You Can Make 300,000 Dollars A Month Selling (Fill In the Blank) At Home!" THAT IS A LIE!

I loathe dishonest, under-handed, smarmy sales. Its always been around and shows no sign of disappearing any time soon. I have been desperate enough to attempt to get rich via "contests" through the old snail mail. Someone got some money from me, but I remained poor(er) and got cheap plastic 'gem stones' for my effort.

A true friend of mine, in a series he taught did an interesting experiment with his audience:

Presenter: "How would you like to make 120 dollars an hour?" The murmur from the audience was immediate and very audible.

Presenter: "How would you like to start out at 6 dollars an hour and work your way up to 120 dollars an hour over a period of twenty years?" The muted audience response said volumes about how we all want something for nothing.

I received an email from my 'only-if-you-buy-friend' which appeared to give me an introduction to her life and interests. She presented her business with a link. That is open, fair and honest. She then presented a link of biographical information. Oh yeah, there was a cursory biography. Her sex, some 'interests' and several other business-related links. But the actual goal of the site was to suck me into Gawd-knows-what, with the promise of untold riches. I began to realize, I've been had, again.

Oh, in AA, church and any gathering of more then three people. The pseudo-human sales people prey. Usually, the initial 'hook' is the offer of 'interest' or 'friendship'. These folks can spot their victims in very short order. Once their target believes they've really made a friend, the sales person gently introduces them to their product or service. If the contact balks, they make two to three other attempts and then drop the contact. There is no time for anything but making sales, mining prospects and spirituality is lost in a frenzy of greed.

This sales person, had a tactic I'd never encountered before. She presents herself as 'pathetic, old, disabled and discouraged'. The garnish of properly placed tears and illusions to suicide thrown in, for drama. I went for it. I've been there and foolishly believed this person was attempting to better their life. They are - by having me buy their stuff and then rope others into buying my stuff. Every sale I make is money in the bank for the higher level representative, thus the name Pyramid Scheme.

What really enraged me, however, was when I went to investigate the business, only to find, that the reviews are just more trick, smoke and mirrors ads for other Multi Level Marketing businesses!

If you have to hit up your friends to make 'sales' I say you are going to cease being my 'friend' very fast. When I say "NO", I mean it, and will make it stick, even if I have to block you on an IM client, or pursue legal action. I will take official legal action, when necessary because the line between selling and stalking can blur, as desperate people sink ever deeper into a culture of hype and greed. Hype which causes them to continue to get ripped-off, for the promised pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

I am glad there is a hell, because these outfits that prey on the old, ill, disabled and desperate should definitely be relegated to "the smoking section".

Humor: When Reality Interferes With Your Satire

In my last post I referenced a communication from a friend, indicating his in-progress development of a product for the blind. It turns out he was joking! Here is a case where sloppy use of language and unknown information led us both down a primrose path. However, of the two of us, I definitely wandered the most.

My friend does indeed do work with cell phones, so when I ran into some accessibility related information about cell phones I forwarded the information to him. He, ever being ready for a good laugh, saw a chance for some humor and fired off the response I referenced in my last post. He claimed to be developing a (sic) "brail touch screen cell phone to make it easier to read." Since he is intimately familiar with what is and is not doable on a cell phone, the above was satire, obvious and clear. Like reading a reference to a flying truck.

To me, a member, no matter how loosely, of the blind community, this assertion was a brilliant idea whose time had come. I have a habit of not paying all that much attention to word meaning. "Touch screen", "display", hey, if I touch it and it feels like Braille, its a touch-screen, right? WRONG! My friend's misspelling of Braille, should have alerted me to the possibility of a lack of knowledge on his part, in reference to Braille and current technology. I saw it, but assumed he was just doing his geek-speak. A hyper version of the English language designed to save time and keystrokes. As in: 'np' instead of 'no problem'. A device saving eight keystrokes. Over the course of a day, this can be a substantial time and work saver. You type just enough to get the idea across and spelling be damned! I imagine after several years of texting to one another we'll dispense with words all together and simply 'character' back and forth! (I'm using satire here!)

Within the blind community there is a sad state of affairs in regards to Braille usage. Many blind people don't know the system and don't use it. They get by using recording devices of various types. I have tried the 'tape only' system and found it really wanting. Braille to a blind person is like paper and pencil to a sighted person. Yeah, you use your computer, blackberry and other techno toys, but you do occasionally need to write something down on a piece of paper. You sighted folks, think of a world where you couldn't physically write things down. Forget about taking notes at meetings, sharing a phone number, or even a reminder scrawled on a Post-It note. You can function, but it absolutely hinders your 'flow'.

The Braille and non-Braille camps are similar to the tug-o-war between PC and Mac users. I confess, I can't resist taking the well-practiced swipe at my (unfortunate) PC using friends, who never fail to meet my challenge. It is a similar fight within the blind community, however, lacking all humor. Because the ability to get employment is involved, both sides are serious and, at times, a bit hysterical.

I have a totally blind friend who would swoon over a cell phone with a Braille display. She is forever complaining about how difficult it is for the totally blind. She is processing grief work. This fact keeps me from ranting at her to "GET OVER IT!" I am, however, more sensitive to the issues because of her real and imagined problems.

Now, a lesson in Gmail usage and proper English. Yes, I'm going to be arrogant, whether I'm right or not, just because I can. If you have an email stream of several replies to an original message in Gmail, all these communications are saved in one physical email in your inbox: me,Terry (3). If you are really stupid and accidentally DELETE the above email, further additions Terry might make aren't registered through your inbox. Why? Because the original is in the trash! (Sheepishly, hehe, lesson learned).

Now, an English lesson for my beloved friend. A 'post' refers to a BLOG (post) and an email, refers to an EMAIL! Since when have we started referring to posting email? Maybe you folks talk like that on the East Coast, but out here in California, posts are in fences, or blogs and email is NOT called a POST. Thank-you very much!

I rejoice over this classic 'failure to communicate'. In years gone by I would have panicked over this state of affairs and cried. Now, I simply laugh. I have a habit, I am sure drives my friend crazy. I see something he does on one of his websites and fire off an email praising the change (I misidentify), with no detail of where I saw the change. I always have to reply back to his confused questioning. "Snow, on my website, where?". It is getting more and more fun being alive in this world of ours. Playfulness is lurking around most corners and I'm loving it.

Dealing With Memories In Real Time.

One of the joys of my 'recovered' life is the assurance that recovery is real, ongoing and evolving. One of the surprises of this journey is how even pleasant memories can clog up your thinking, like a phone system with overloaded circuits. In my last post, I experienced one of the rare 'happy' moments from my childhood. It felt wonderful to let my mind remember and my body re-experience that calming affect of a beloved animal. I figured I was all done and expected no further information from my little seven-year-old self.

Now, I realize that there is also the troubled, confused and terrified seven-year-old who still longs to be whole. Before, when I was in the throws of active retrieval of the painful memories, the more subtle difficulties were swamped by the gross mistreatment, neglect and abandonment grief work I had to engage in. I want to try and share what I'm learning in a new stage of memory recovery. A good memory surfaces and because it is good, you let it happen. No tears, flashbacks, or need for assistance. There are issues of confusion which also surface, but since they are subtle, I don't immediately realize what is happening.

The other subtle issues begin to come forth. For me it is a tremendous fear of rejection based on sharing too much of the 'wrong' kind of information. The adults in my world were usually in various phases of drunkenness, so their irrational reactions make sense to me, now, as an adult. As an open and growing seven-year-old, I had to force myself into 'secret agent' behavior, just to survive. If I had a real feeling: "don't show it. Think about it first, evaluate the risks involved in sharing it and assume, no matter what I do, it'll probably just get me screamed at." I always talked to myself, as there wasn't anyone else around.

My aunt had bought me one of those glow-in-the-dark rings. It was a blue stone and I really loved it. I just thought it was the neatest gift I'd ever gotten. I knew my aunt always felt unappreciated, as when drunk, this was one of her favorite 'rants'. I felt really happy inside, that I could both share my joy and make her happy at the same time. Man, did I call that one wrong!

She started to cry and screamed out that all the work she'd done for me meant nothing, but I liked a damn dime-store ring! The lecture was one of her three hour rant-o-thons and I promised myself I'd NEVER make that mistake again! But in the 'big' picture of recovery, this little emotional lesson got buried under the more pressing problems of survival. Now it is safe and my confusion can emerge and find healing. Here's what happened to me.

Fear of rejection from friends is a major part of my temperament, and it would still be so, if I had a 'normal' childhood. Us talkative, performing, romping types are terrified of being rejected by the people we care about. I know this, and try to keep that nagging "Do they really like me, or are they just being nice?" doubt tamed down, usually through prayer. I love people like myself, talkative, emotive, performers, romping and playful spirits. We are all very sensitive, and don't have a problem letting you know when we are surprised, irked, joyful or confused by something you do. I love that direct communication, as the subtle stuff just goes right over my head. I miss it completely.

I forwarded some information to a buddy who works with mobile devices. He responded that he did like the information because he's working on a new product. Something for the blind. My heart soared, since, with the duties involved with my church's website, I've put my own 'project for the blind' on hold. I wanted to really talk to my friend. One of my long emails, full of questions, opinions and my talkative 'me-ness', but I found myself shutting down. It was truly strange. I stared at the email and did nothing. I felt this absolutely crazy fear, and avalanche of negative assertions: "Oh, geez, you've already emailed him several times. He doesn't want any more from you. One of these days, he's gonna tell you to shut up and go away. Don't be stupid, he's just to polite to tell you to get lost, but if you keep forcing yourself on him, he may find the ability to over ride his normally considerate nature." (Note the perfect mind-reading, future-predicting and entirely NEGATIVE quality. This is an example of an "old tape". It has been a real long time since I heard THAT particular old tape. I shut down my computer and went to bed.

My buddy, aware of my passion to help the blind community was wondering why I didn't react. True to both of our natures, he was right out there: "What no response...?". Not realizing my little seven-year-old was calling the shots I moved right into panic mode. "Oh no. Now I will get into trouble, because when I share how I feel, he'll know I was lying, or I would have shared it last night..." This is the moment I realized who was trying to handle this situation. Other things were happening which seemed out of the ordinary. I wasn't picking up on observations - mis-reading (not understanding) references to things I'd said, earlier in the day. Once I spotted my poor little seven-year-old trying to do my totally alien life (from her point of view), I realized that I am still involved in remembering, healing and self-integration. Oh man, I get tired of this!

But, it is okay to explore being seven in a healthy world. The pastor's wife at church is another playful spirit, and when we get together, one or both of us get 'shushed' by the class leader, because we are talking to each other and not being attentive to the class! My church seems like it has been designed to facilitate my mental health. The class leader will admonish us, but she's trying not to laugh, as she does it.

I have found new levels of prayer and trust in God. I actually cried at church, in gratitude, last Sunday. God is bringing up all that subtle stuff, so when I recognize its around, I can pray about it and he heals me. This is the new process for me. I used to not react to an incident for days or weeks, now I am reacting in hours, or minutes. I'm getting healed. I'm getting free.

Why I love Samoyed dogs.

When I was about seven or eight years old, I was invited over to the home of one of my Aunt's friends. Her family owned two of the most beautiful, friendly and gentle dogs I've ever encountered. Two yappy, but very loving Samoyeds. They are cold weather dogs like the Husky, but adapt fine to warmer climates.

The owner gave me huge marrow-filled bones to give to the dogs. I would dig out the marrow for the dogs and they never tried to hurt me in any way. They both understood what I was trying to do and would sit patiently, in front of me, with tails wagging, until I'd dislodged the marrow. I'd give them both half of it, along with a bone. These dogs are very affectionate, with long, soft white fur and a frisky personality.

The only drawback, I remember, is they are talkative. If you don't like yappy, noisome creatures, a Newfoundland Hound would be a better choice. That breed hardly barks at all. Samoyeds love to play, with each other, or any humans who are so inclined.

I spent many comforting hours with these awesome creatures and hope to get a dog sitting job one day, with a Samoyed. I love this photo of a running Samoyed. I called the picture BornFree.bmp. I got it off the net, but since I'm not planning on selling it, I think its okay. Now that true recovery is a part of my world, I am remembering the gentler moments of my life. For me animals were a life-saver. Animals sense when you are ill, physically, or emotionally. They will attempt to soothe you as best they can. I feel like the dog in that picture, finally able to romp through a good life, safe and free.

Common Sense Applied To Christianity.

Oh my, The Da Vinci Code movie is coming out and all radio religious is going stark-raving mad. "Should, or should you not go? (take your child, dog or x-mother-in-law?). To hear some folks talk about this book, to actually read it may turn you into a Satanist! A similar argument to: if you hang around homosexuals, you might turn into one. People Pa-lee-ee-se! Take a breath and sit down. Cybergal has some light to shed on all of this. Having the absolute ability to over react, I've already done that for you. I can save you much time, energy and angst.

Christianity takes a leap of faith to accept, or reject. To actually learn about Christianity, I suggest sitting down with a book called The Bible and slowly reading it. You can read it in a year, or read it in five years, depending on whose plan you follow. What I, or anyone else says about this, or any other subject, should be INVESTIGATED by you, before believing the opinion.

I hated all things Christian, but when I decided to actually give Jesus a chance, I started with the four Gospels and read them like I'd read any other story. I have to say, it is a story that is interesting, but a bit strange. Since I was a Baha'i' at the time, I had a lot of data from the Baha'i' viewpoint,showing how they were right and Christ was wrong.

I basically started over. Following The Baha'i' faith wasn't working any more and I really liked the part of Jesus work, where he healed people. I knew I was totally screwed-up and had no idea how to help myself, at the ripe old age of 25. My march to Jesus took over 5 years and was not smooth, or easy. Like most people who finally straggle up to an alter somewhere, I was broken inside, hopeless and desperate. Desperate enough to run naked down any street, if that would make things better. So before running naked, anywhere, I decided to try Jesus. (Real spiritual, right?)

I hate to work hard, so when Dr. Gene Scott held out the carrot of just listening to him talk about the Bible, instead of me reading it for myself, I went for it. After 14 years and a bankruptcy, mainly caused by hysterical religious giving, I decided to actually read the Bible for myself. (Yeah, stupid is as stupid does). Now, I'm at a healthy small church near my home and I'm having a wonderful time in the world of religion. But, I still read the Bible for myself, no matter how much I respect my pastor. A really good sign of a healthy church and or pastor, is one who encourages you to check out what they preach. The pastors and churches that don't want you to think for yourself, by questioning, or investigating their teachings are not good. Buyer Beware!

For those of us who are Christian, we've come to believe stuff about Jesus, God, the devil and life. If this 'stuff' is based on the Bible - the entire Old and New testaments, you are probably pretty stable when confronted with something like The Da Vinci Code, Holy Blood, Holy Grail, or The Jesus seminar. If you haven't been studying, or paying very close attention, these things can blow you right off balance.

Mainstream Christianity believes Jesus is divine and human at the same time. That he actually physically died at the crucifixion and then re-gained his physical life again at the Resurrection. A whole lot of people, some even claiming to be Christian, refuse to believe some, or all of the above. Numbers aren't the only thing which can be 'cooked' to render a lie. Research can be 'cooked' also. It basically comes down to who are you going to believe?

If I look at you, wave my hand over your head and tell you that you are giving off 'cancer' vibrations, I would hope you'd ignore me. If, however, your Medical Doctor says that you have a malignant brain tumor, I'd hope you'd pay very serious attention to that information. The difference is the credibility of the source.

While it may be true, that I can detect a 'cancer' vibration, the chance of it being reliable is very small. The chance that your doctor and hospital completely mistake several test results, all pointing to a brain tumor is also slim. Again, who is the most reliable source of information?

One study says caffeinated coffee is good for you, while another study says it is bad for you. Some guy on late night talk radio claims the Queen of England is really part of an alien race, which appear to be six-foot-tall reptiles. This last story is completely ignored by even the way-out-there press. Who are you going to believe? We all know this, until someone writes something about Jesus Christ.

We all believe that religion and love are similar. Both are effortless to obtain and maintain. Both will last forever. Love is a commitment and a lot of work. Religion is also a commitment and requires life-long upkeep. Salvation is indeed free, but the upkeep is a job you will have for the rest of this life, as you slowly lose more of the 'old' you and take on more of the 'new' Jesus-like you.

I have a lot of atheist friends and find much real pleasure in kicking Christianity around with them. They always come up with questions I never thought of and answers which make us all laugh, at times. When one of my atheist friends proclaims they've found a book 'proving' that Jesus isn't God, I'll read it, but I take it with a grain of salt. Sure, when you throw out 85% of the New testament, what you are left with doesn't look too divine, but why would I choose to do that?

When my pastor gives me a book, as part of a class, and tells me to read it, I am open and trusting. Why? I assume this person wants to assist me on my spiritual journey. One of the most devastating mistakes I made, was trusting a pastor, who rejected 85% of the New testament. Now, I'm a bit less open, no matter who recommends a book.

The Jesus seminar took the New testament and 'blackballed' anything they felt violated scientific law. (any miracle, etc.) and actually rejected around 85% of the Gospel accounts. With that set of assumptions, they concluded that the Bible has no more authority then any other book. Since I believe The Bible was divinely inspired, I give it far more weight, then I do to the latest 'how to get organized' book. I had to learn not only what I believe, but why I believe it.

I really have a problem with The Da Vinci Code. Since it is a very well crafted 'who done it?" story, it moves fast and captures and sustains your full attention. What I hate about this book is the claim that the 'research' is accurate. And I'm related to the Tooth Fairy! Dan Brown doesn't make one or two little errors, but inflates reality, or ignores it completely, consistently throughout his anti-Christian rant. It is a free country. I think you all should read the book and probably skip the flick. I've heard it is not nearly as good as the book. Many fine books have trouble making the transition to the silver screen. Check out the claims.

One example, are there 666 panes of glass in the pyramid outside the Louvre, or are there 673 panes of glass? This could have indeed been a typo, but there are many other 'lose' ends in this book. I dare you to read that book and then spend several weeks reading the 4 gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. There are amazing errors committed by the so-called British historian.

Now, who cares? Why does it matter? Because, I believe we humans have a 50 year span of time to answer one question that will determine our eternal destiny. Yes, it is a test, but it is an open book test, and you have 50 years, give, or take, to accomplish the task.

Some of you don't believe there is an eternity, yeah, that is a leap of faith also, but what if you are betting on the wrong horse and spend eternity in 'the smoking section'? That was what made me seriously consider religion at all. Sure, if this is all there is, let's make the most of it, get mine and to hell with you. But, what if there is an eternity, we can't perceive, like we can't normally see electricity? Be careful about the assumptions you make to rule your life, it is a true drag, when you realize that you have basically 'wasted' most of your precious time being a fool.

Here's my reasoning on the time of the big test. Figure most of us live 70+ years. I figure the first 20 are the prep time for the test. Getting the skills we need to do this long open book test. 70 minus 20 yields 50 years of time to answer one question. Are you all ready?

"Who do you say I am?"

Jesus Christ speaking.

You have two choices.

1. The only real God, proved by the claim and fulfillment of the Resurrection. Therefore Jesus is The Lord of my life.
2. Not divine, any path leads to God, therefore I don't have to worry about it.

Its an open book test, but I'd be careful which opinion I'd bet on. The Da Vinci Code is entertaining FICTION, but a very bad source about who Jesus Christ is.

How Do I Prove I'm NOT Abusing My Medication?

I take 2 psychiatric and one heartburn medication every day. I absolutely don't remember the names of these medications. The two psychiatric medications are both restricted. People have been known to use them as 'party' drugs. I am given 100 generic Prozac at a time, but the tricyclic anti-depressant is restricted to 30 tablets at a time. Needless to say, I'm down refilling something every 30 days.

I also tend to forget which pill is what drug. I usually just bring in the empty bottle and that solves the problem. Today I made several really bad errors. 1) I left the empty bottle of the tricyclic at home and 2) assumed I could just remember what was what and the pharmacy would figure it out. No, no, very, very bad set of moves! As I said, I don't mess with medication. I do what I'm told, no more, no less. So, the thirty pills were gone again. I thought they were the generic Prozac. I told the pharmacists as much and within 10 minutes I was ready to leave, with new pills.

Then the Odyssey began: "are you taking more then one pill a day?"The clerk asks, while frantically interacting with her keyboard. I immediately realized I was in trouble. This is one of those situations like: "how long has it been since you stopped beating your spouse?" There is no win on answering that question. The very first thing an active drug abuser does, is to deny they are abusing drugs!

I patiently ran through my explanation and was told I had to see the pharmacist before they'd give me my pills. They didn't even ask for my co-payment, a really suspicious sign indeed. So, I'm confronted with a kind Japanese lady who begins to really grill me on my pill taking behavior. She kept asserting that I'd just had a 100 pills given to me on 3/29 and although they'd give me 30 more today, they wondered how I'd managed to go through so much medicine in a month. It finally hit me, that maybe they had refilled the wrong pill. Sure enough,once I corrected the error I'd made in the beginning of this transaction, I was again free to leave without any further special meetings. Man, I will NEVER, NEVER neglect to take my empty bottle of pills with me to my HMO again. I am thankful they care, and are careful. But, I had a real attention span trying to figure out how I'd prove I wasn't abusing my medication! Woo-Wee.

A Hospitalized Friend And The Grief Process.

A lazy Skype chat is interrupted yesterday, by a sad phone call from a friend. Her grown daughter fell in their home, severed an artery in her leg, spent a week in ICU, and now is in a regular hospital room. My friend doesn't know if her daughter will ever be able to walk again, or how long she'll have to remain in the hospital. I numbly make arrangements to go and see her daughter, calling the daughter on the phone and noting the tears in her voice.

It is now 5 AM and I've been scouring the net looking for how to be a good visitor. I suddenly realize that I'm in grief. I know from personal experience about some of what NOT to do when visiting someone who is ill. The usual stupid stuff, like, telling them your troubles, claiming you know how they feel or going into hyper-religion on them. But, I keep wanting to go back over the scary fact that this twenty-something gal may not be able to walk again. This is my grief work and I have to face it before seeing the daughter, or her mother. It just plain-old hurts.

Her mom and I have had a rocky on-again-off-again kind of relationship. I am no counselor, but this lady is driven by her own needs to try and make me into her counselor. So, I've hung back. I've always liked her daughter, but we've never really gotten to talk, as the daughter saw I was attempting to stay friends with her lovable, but at times, crazy-making mom. I know God will help me to be helpful tomorrow. From the research I've done, being a decent visitor is mainly about not staying too long and LISTENING. I remember the worst example of nurse-bedside-manner I've ever experienced.

I was at the blind school, in my thirties, finally learning how to use a white cane and all the rest of how to do life, if I ever lost my sight. I had the flu, but was also depressed over my complete inability to connect with people. The staff nurse comes in and sees me curled up with my Bible. I was so emotionally out of it, that I didn't read God's Word, but I slept with this bible in a zipper case. Everyone loved that Bible, and after she looks at it and hands it back to me, she asks:

"Why don't you have any friends?" (I believe there is a TV series: "Just Shoot Me")? That had to be the absolute worst thing this lady could have asked me. Fever and all, I fell into uncontrollable crying, which she couldn't and wouldn't deal with. So, she got up and left my room. I remember turning back to God, as suddenly, I was alone again! What a question!

Then there is the hysterical-religious approach. "No matter what... Be thankful, God is good." These things are both true, but not necessarily something I will utter tomorrow. If the daughter wants to pray to, or rage at God, I will listen and follow her lead. The last thing she needs is some fool who has no idea what she is feeling, wanting or needing, to turn super-spiritual on her.

It is interesting, that the sermon last night was on having the wisdom to know when to be quiet! My favorite proverb:

Prov. 17:28 Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.

I count my own blessings, that I have enough mental health to truly be available to listen to the concerns and pain of another person. It is one of the ways I say "thank you" to all God has done and is still doing for me.

Watching A Friend Fall In Lust.

I just did a thorough rereading of some email a friend shared with me. She is convinced that her life will become whole when she finds the person of her dreams, that (pseudo) psychics have told her about. (For a price, of course). If it was possible to complete a life via another person, I'd have done it by now. What I got for my effort was some of the best sex I've ever experience AND being beaten for two years. Batterers are charismatic, charming and other centered, until they capture you. Then they reveal their unbelievably selfish and out-of-control "true" nature.

People asked me why I chose to abandon everything I couldn't carry on my back, when I finally fled from this abusive relationship. It is simple. Because these people can be so charming, when it suits them, I was afraid of being enticed back, if I had any contact with this individual. I learned the hard way, that whirlwind, we're involved immediately, relationships are a recipe for pure disaster.

I have come to trust my platonic friendships as real, on-going and precious. I have come to trust my judgment, about how much to 'risk', with whom and when. Healthy people are cautious. They've been burned, and have seen others burned. Real anything takes time and effort. If you need a quick test for lust, try this. When you think about this person, are you interested in their thoughts, or do you just want to get naked somewhere with them and 'have at it"? We all have moments of temptation, but as someone said at church:

"There is a difference between a bird landing on your head or letting that bird hang around and build a nest in your hair". So true.

I am deeply saddened by where my friend appears to be headed. She has known this man, (via email, and phone) for less then a week and they are both discussing, erotica. She tried to slow him down and although he tried to temper his emotions for her benefit, he ended his email with: "kisses," Red flags are up and flying, but my friend doesn't want to hear about it. I have had a sad feeling about this gal for awhile, as I watch her psychic 'helpers' drag her ever deeper into the idea of getting her man, (complete with a physical description) and encouraging her continued travel down this path. It is really true, that money can buy almost anything. The one psychic who called my friend on her lopsided life-approach was completely rejected as being 'inexperienced'.

Here's the deal. Sex is the LAST piece of the relationship, not the appetizer. Religion knows this, hence the prohibition against out-of-marriage sex. See, us females release a hormone, the first time we have sex with a partner which gives us that "goofy" quality men are so mystified by. For the men, sex is NOT the same as for the female. After sex, a man is satisfied physically and when spiritually evolved, emotionally connected to his wife. But a man can have sex just for the physical release. Women aren't wired like that. We tend to want to "nest", and swoon. One comic put it perfectly:

"You totally lose your mind. He calls you up and leaves a message like: 'Gawd I hate these damn machines,' and hangs up. You collapse in romantic fantasies, until reality finally dawns and you are left asking yourself: 'what was I thinking?'"

Health proceeds slowly. Our over-sexed culture believes that to have sex, is like kicking the tires on a possible car purchase. God designed sex to be the capstone on a healthy pair of friends who have committed their lives to each other. The three good marriages I'm familial with ALL involve on-going effort for and towards each other. Lust is effortless, love is not a feeling, but a commitment of the will. I fear for my friend. As in so many other experiences watching people making my former mistakes, I feel old and a bit drained, as they innocently ignore my warning about the up-coming cliff. Telling me all the while that I'm wrong, as I watch them fall and disappear over the edge.

When Reality Is Scarier Than Fiction: What We Don't Know About Nano Technology

I will give you my bias now. When it comes to genetic engineering and nano technology I'm completely irrational and scared to death. I attempt to moderate this sense of doom by educating myself to what the learned men and women of real science are up to. For a long time, this has kept most of my drooling terror at bay, but, now, thanks to a pod cast of Science Friday for 4/28/06, I am completely over the edge. Today I speak of nano technology. (When I find out a similar condition exists for genetic engineering, I'll upload another tale of terror).

What is nano technology? It is non-living things which are man made that are so small, they can float around in your body without (supposedly), bothering your 'intruder' defenses, or your immune system. There is great hope for this world of tinsy. Medical critters which can cruise your blood stream and 'eat' up all that bad cholesterol, or other 'problems'. Tinsys which will 'eat' things like PCB's and other environmental scourges. The list of the potential 'good stuff' is long and (like all utopias) inviting, tempting and SHORT SIGHTED!

To my knowledge no man-made utopian scheme which has been tried by real people has worked as envisioned. Literature is full of these tales, fictional and otherwise. Science holds out the promise, that when they find something new, they will TEST IT before releasing it into the consumer marketplace. What will they test it for? Oh, small things like, will it accidentally kill you, if you use it? (poison). Will it kill you if you use it incorrectly? (eating a cosmetic, or a car wax). Over time, will it hurt you? (toxic buildup). These aren't unreasonable questions to ask. Like most of us I ASSUMED they weren't only being asked, but ANSWERED before new products were put out for us to use.

The scientists are checking, but only in a limited way, when it comes to these nano-things. They are checking to see if they irritate the lungs, if inhaled. Good, but they are using this stuff in dentistry (inside your mouth) and haven't checked if when you swallow, you are accidentally introducing them into your bloodstream through your stomach, or tissues on the way to your stomach! (Compared to this reality, no sci fi book I've ever read comes close to this level of fright).

What about cumulative buildup, over time. Maybe one filling won't bother you, but what about when your dentures, or bridge contain nanos? Lead builds up in the human body, with no way to get rid of it. I don't believe nanos leave us either, but, like real scientists I don't know for sure.

Add to this the comforting thought that the word 'nano' is being used as an advertising gimmick. Its presence on a label name, may just mean 'small'. Remember the problem of attempting to find milk without the growth hormone given to the cows? It was written into laws, that companies DID NOT have to declare whether or not this hormone was present or not. God, I love the free market! Same with genetically altered fruits and vegetables. They don't have to inform us if it is real, or 'wacko-tech'. Like everyone else, I've made the adjustment. I buy it, eat it and hope I don't sprout new body parts, on some bright future Friday morning.

We have nanos in dentistry, cosmetics, car wax and clothes. Man, buying second hand may not only be economically intelligent, it may save my life! I know, I'm being irrational and everything will be all right! Sure, can we talk about asbestos? I hearken back to a political campaign between Lyndon Johnson and some republican. Johnson's positive slogan was: "In your heart you know he's right". His opposition shot back: "In your gut, you know he's a nut". We are running way, way too far ahead of ourselves and I fear things I can't see, protect myself from and / or don't understand.

Humor: Getting Work The CyberGal Way.

I love listening and reacting to various pod casts. If I like them I bless their email, or comment message lines with some content from CyberGal. As a low vision person I have a laundry list of things I wish web designers would stop doing on the Internet. So, when I was asked my opinion, I ranted, raved and probably rambled in a long email discourse.

Like every other disabled person I've ever met, I've tried and tried, over and over to get self-sustaining, gainful employment. Well, I have some part-time work, but without my Social Security I'd be homeless really fast. But, I still crank out a resume, or cover letter from time to time, in that never die hope... You know, I practice interviewing skills, pack and repack a multi-colored parachute and generally attempt to be ready for that bright day when employment opportunity comes a'knocking.

All of this for naught. For naught I tell you! (This is so funny, I can hardly type it.). I got an email reply to the afore mentioned web-o-rant. I was asked if I wanted to be interviewed on the pod cast AND would I be willing to be available for a possible paid slot in a usability study. (If the customer will pay for the study, they will pay me to be a guinea pig!) My potential boss ends his correspondence with "What do you think?" All that work to get work! I've been wrong all along.

Those of you who've followed this blog awhile, have no doubt that when CyberGal has an opinion, I have no problem beating it to death, right? That the more frustrated I get the more humorous I tend to become, right? Now, I can relax!

Here are the steps to employment - The CyberGal Way:

• Shoot your mouth off.
• Accept a job!
  

And people don't think God has a sense of humor!

Thinking About Gratitude.

I have returned from paradise and am now spending the weekend at Maria and John's home for the purpose of cleaning their house for them. Remembering that amazing vacation makes my work easier! I am filled with thankfulness that I had such a great opportunity to experience a resort so lavish. I am thankful to have a bit of part-time work, in spite of several major disabilities. I'm very moved that Maria went shopping for my food (ice cream, bear claws and half and half) while forgetting to shop for herself and her husband! God love these people!

They left me with a refrigerator full of really yummy food - a European style noodles, ham, eggs and cheese dish I can't pronounce. Plus chili, part of a pizza, ice cream and bear claws for breakfast! Add to this, excellent gourmet ground coffee, should I choose to brew it up. The dog is happy I'm here and I get to choose my hours of labor. Never mind, also having the use of their computer. The final luxury is their bath tub, with an angled back, just like the bath tub at the Resort at Squaw Creek. For all of this, all I have to do is some housework - I even get paid! I thank God for their kindness and His goodness. Somehow, I think I'm getting the better deal out of this arrangement, but I do leave behind a clean house - yeah, life is good.

Adjusting To Recovery: A confusing, But Pleasant Journey

I receive an impassioned email from a friend discussing 'courage', 'grit' and 'determination'. The shocking thing, is the person being referred to is myself! I started tracking visitors to this blog on Dec. 18, 2005 and as of today I have seven-hundred-and-nineteen visitors! I do get a certain amount of attempted comment spam, but I'd guess it accounts for less then 2 percent of my traffic. I have repeat visits and you all hang around and actually take an average of two minutes and fourteen seconds to READ my content. That figure is actually low, as the timer doesn't count any time for those of you who just view one page. So, I take great pleasure in arguing with the current wisdom which proclaims that no one actually READS content any more, they simply scan. Ha-Za to all of my readers - an obviously above average group on all counts.

I am totally amazed at these numbers. This blog is my attempt to give a hand-up to the struggling abuse victim, who can't figure out why they are still acting really irrationally, when they 'know' better. I have produced what I wish I'd had when I was floundering around, seeking answers,like a fish out of water.

I am encountering success in an on-going fashion. No more of that 'hit-and-miss' stuff! There is a sarcastic expression that covers how I used to view my success:

Even a stopped clock is correct twice a day!

Now, my life has smoothed out. I have a new-found sense of courage to do new things and (ooh!) even risk making mistakes. (How many of us have been absolutely paralyzed by the sense that 'if I can't do it perfect, I ain't gonna do it'? No one learns anything without making errors. This is not to say I don't strive for excellence, but I realistically understand, that my first attempt at something new will happen differently then some task I've been practicing for years. Hello mental health.

I used to get so excited when my life started going right, I'd break out in a cold sweat and wait for a sink hole to open up underneath me. If you don't sabotage yourself, you will actually get used to having a life where major disasters (usually brought about by you) just don't happen any more. You will begin to 'trust' your new skills, social standing and accomplishments.

As I learn to really tell the truth - especially the hard truths I've 'copped' to in this blog, I am amazed at the opinions which come back to me from my friends. One of my pet peeves about the whole problem of child sexual (and every other kind of) abuse is how it not only reaches out to slap us around, but from time to time messes with our close friends. I get fighting mad over that one. I have stopped raging against the fact that all the abuse happened to me. When one of my healthy friends - who can't even imagine having sex with any child, let alone his own child, mentions having a stomach-churning reaction to some of my blog. I want to scream and throw things in anger.

My friend's reaction to this was to tell me that a) I don't hurt him - a fear I always carry, because the events in my background are so severe, b) I'm not responsible for his reactions and c) its his problem, not mine. To all of the above, I just have to put it in that box of "huh?", in my mind. God will eventually get it through my head what all of the above means. Somehow, I know I'm not responsible for everyone else's pain, but this is yet another symptom of being raised by narcissistic role models. I'm toying with the faith-step of 'daring' to believe that not being responsible for everyone else is really true! Man, that is so very appealing, I like the sense of relief, but I'm not totally 'there' yet.

People don't expect me to be perfect. They have foibles, and aren't taken aback when they see my foibles. It is okay to let people respect, admire and otherwise appreciate me, in whatever arena of life they are in. It is NOT okay for me to start taking credit for the results. When, if not for all the help God and others have given me to achieve success, I'd have nothing. Yes, I have some natural ability, but without the help and encouragement from others, not to mention the strength and child-training I've gotten from God, I'd not produce anything, except more confusion and personal despair.

I''ve discovered the joy of putting some 'safe' adventure into my life. I had so many traumatic events coming at me in childhood, I figured anything 'new' was probably bad and or dangerous. Now, that my life isn't like a bad soap opera, I realize I LOVE to explore new things. I love traveling somewhere I've never been before to partake in something at that location.

My next vacation will be in Boston, to see the Ig Nobel Prize Awards at Harvard, and the more serious academic research presentations of the awarded research given at MIT. I plan on waiting until October of 2007 because, I can save the money to fly back, stay in an up-scale Marriott, for three nights and pay for cabs, or other things I may need. I do not mind having a low income for most of my life, but I refuse to: 'go cheap' on a vacation!

As you continue on this journey, your bad days will become less severe and fewer, while your good days will become the norm, not 'a miracle from God'. You will get out of practice on old skills. Old stand-bys, such as throwing up every morning to greet the day, not from alcohol, just nerves. You will forget how to act normally while seeing people with missing heads, animals crawling out of walls or trees which walk! You will realize when you are straying from telling the truth, lying will no longer be 'second-nature'. You will become tired and eventually eliminate people from your life, who are trying to drag you back down to their unhealthier level. Best of all, you will realize you are really a part of the human race. Not only that, but a good part of that community, finally able to accept being loved and appreciated. Because, ultimately, recovery involves learning to accept yourself, warts and all.

The Resort at Squaw Creek, Squaw Valley, California: WOW!

CyberGal didn't go on a vacation - I went to another planet!

I have never experienced a surprise which absolutely disoriented me, but my suite at Squaw Creek totally blew me away. A huge three room affair, complete with a gas fireplace, kitchenette, bedroom with a huge executive desk, living room / dining room combination and a bathroom! This was no ordinary bathroom. A completely separate bath tub and shower. The shower sported two shower heads. Makes every other shower I've been in feel like well, you know, below this standard. I had three closets! Friends, this was like eight of my rooms put together, outfitted with granite tile, wood trim, with the beautiful afternoon sun streaming through the two windows and even a dishwasher in a drawer!

Not wishing to demonstrate my humble background, when the assistant manager went to show me about the fireplace, he proclaimed:

"Here, let me turn on the fire for you," I resisted the strong urge to respond:

"You want to do what to the fire...?" A handy light switch on the wall, hidden by the hanging curtains (of course) provided instant cabin ambiance. I LOVE fireplaces! And unlike the wood burning variety, I felt safe operating it.

There are two doors leading into the bathroom, from the kitchenette, or from the bedroom. Even after three days, this arrangement confused me. I've been living in one room for too long!
I spent lovely hours before the fire, listening to the in-room stereo, or watching the flat screen TV.

I had three telephones, one in the bathroom, one in the bedroom and of course, one in the living room. I'd never actually do this, but wouldn't it be great. You're on the throne, call up some company who done you wrong - register a complaint, as you answer nature's call. Oh, what symbolism!

The bath tub had an angled ergonomically designed back rest. I wondered if I'd ever find the will power to LEAVE this little bit of paradise. Hot water I had to moderate with cold water, so I could really soak out the seven hour train ride up to the resort.

Amtrak was very good about dealing with me and my disabilities. They were truly helpful and gracious. The only drawback, for me, is that families with kids and the disabled are put in the same car. I understand why this is done. Both groups will need additional assistance in an emergency, but I'm not a kid-person. Seven hours of the little darlings left me drained and ready to pounce on any out-of-control child.

First shut the kid up and then go and "educate" their parents! Oh my, the new parenting style, is to let strangers deal with the little darling! I pondered staying at the home of a friend with his wife and four kids, when I travel east. No dice! I look forward to meeting his wife and family, but I know that a small dose of child goes a long way with me. After a fun evening with the group, I'll flee back to the quiet of my private hotel room. The Resort at Squaw Creek has a lot of great stuff for children. If you aren't into the small fry, hold off on dinner until 9 PM. Then its just the adults.

Gourmet food is also featured here. I had a lamb trio, or three different kinds of lamb, which all tasted like LAMB. I love lamb and get frustrated at most recipes which try to take the lamb flavor out of the lamb. Delicious! The next night I ordered a rib-eye steak that was truly the best thing I've ever had in a steak. Carmelized onions and delicately roasted potatoes in a light sauce, totally eliminating my usual need for A1 Sauce. I saved half of my steak and finished it off on the return train trip.

On the train ride up to the resort, I explored the lounge car, where $7 will provide adequate coffee and a really crummy cheese burger in plastic, which doesn't microwave evenly. When the lady told me the price, I blurted out, in surprise:

"Oh, just like the airport!" which got laughs from all but the waitress.

I wanted to dance through that lounge car on the return trip, bragging about a gourmet steak lunch. I must really be growing up, I didn't do that either. Oh, returning my attention back to Squaw Creek, I enjoyed: Caesar Salad, Spinach Salad and several really wonderful chocolate deserts.

Somehow, a gourmet Caesar Salad is the most striking experience for me. They just do something different or extra to it. All the flavors are distinct, yet blend. Once you have this really good stuff, at least once a year, you'll be willing to pay high prices for it. Thirty dollars to fifty dollars per person, and that doesn't include alcoholic beverages.

I saw and walked over snow - in April. I was there from Monday through Wednesday morning. Sunday night they'd had over three feet of snow fall. My weather was clear and beautiful. It is interesting to swim in an 80 degree pool, surrounded by large quantities of snow with snowball fights breaking out everywhere. I accidentally got hit by a stray fly ball from a child to his father. What fun! The father made me laugh, when he muttered:

"Don't worry, I know where they sleep." He obviously loved his boy and delighted in being a temporary target.

I didn't realize how the mugging had affected my attitude about certain activities. I've not been swimming since it happened. I realize now, I was afraid of falling on the concrete around the pool, or hot tub. I frankly told Rich, the wonderful assistant manager who escorted me everywhere, that I may not be able to handle it. I did want to check out the pool area. He agreed and again tried to put me at ease, that I wasn't an undue burden. I parked my walker and located myself as close to the pool and hot tub as possible, and ventured forth. Once in the pool, I couldn't get out without the aid of steps, which I couldn't find. I guess it is obvious when one can't see. A very nice lady called out directions to me, and once finding a ladder, got out of, and back into the pool just fine. I felt like I was reclaiming my life again. In some small way, Rich and the other wonderful staff people helped me find the courage to take back my full life. Not being able to see never got me into as much physical hurt as not being able to prevent falling. I also realize I need a collapsible walking cane, for those short trips various places, where it isn't safe, or sensible to take my walker. These special canes are available and I'll have one within the next week.

I also discovered how content I truly am with my regular life. After three glorious days in an idyllic local, I was ready to come home. I was looking forward to returning to my new role as webmaster et al for my church. A job I learn to accomplish, literally as I guess how to do it! I was thankful for a refreshing rest from the noisy construction that is on going in my building. I returned home refreshed and excited about my daily routine. I remember times of absolutely hating my regular life. I've grown up a lot and find looking at what is going correctly in my world feels a whole lot better then bemoaning what I don't or can't have.

Avoiding Ruining Your Today Because Of Your Past Abuse

One of the sad facts of life for those of us with the terrible histories, is we can easily destroy our hard-fought-for new life, when reminded of our traumatic past. This again is a topic I have rarely seen discussed clearly, as it involves admitting being far less then a stellar performer. I nearly destroyed a treasured friendship over a memory I couldn't even consciously identify.

Rule Number One: When some event happens and you react radically, STOP! You find out a new fact about a person and you want to terminate the relationship. Before you act on that impulse, you have to try and find out what in the world you THINK happened, as compared to REALITY.

In issues of either physical, or psychological survival, we imprint "emergency" reactions. If you accidentally touch something hot, the impulse to move your hand only makes it to your brain AFTER your "emergency" nervous system forces you to remove your hand, before too much damage can be done. Our brains have a similar system.

To this day, a room at dusk with no inside lamp on, fills me with a mind-numbing dread. Why? Because, as a child of six, this setting meant: A) My parents were asleep and wouldn't get up for hours, if at all. B) I wouldn't get dinner (which was really bad, if I hadn't had anything for lunch). And C) There was absolutely nothing else for me to do but wait it out until the next morning, when I might have awake parents to feed me. This happened a lot and my brain now considers an unlit room at dusk, an "emergency" situation.

I have learned that even when at someone else's home, it is okay to request a light be turned on. I don't necessarily have to inform them of the entire "why". Usually, just saying something like "this time of day makes me nervous, could you please turn on a light?" It is really no problem. If I ignore my internal terror, I'm likely to break out in a cold sweat and want to get into compulsive over eating. This is not good, as I now have all the food I want, any time I desire it.

An empty refrigerator also scares me. Mine - I go to the store and fill it up. Yours - well, I'll do my best to make sure you're not in need, or want. This can offend some people, who are trying to put on appearances. I try to avoid that personality type any more.

This all sounds a bit trite now, but a week ago, I went into "emergency shut-down", after discovering a male friend wears one stud earring! He told me of owning several styles of same and also having a small hoop earring. My first reaction was a strong temptation to cry. I felt an odd, coldness sweep over me. I have learned to observe my emotional states, as at times, it indicates I need to get a medication change. The last time I experienced this severe reaction was over the first time I was mugged. I absolutely couldn't deal with that new reality. A man on a bicycle had stopped beside me, I thought, to ask for directions. I was returning home from a swing shift at 11:30, on a Thursday night.

He grabbed my leather purse strap and began to cut it with a knife. He had to really work at it, as it was a good quality purse. I remember seeing the knife literally an inch from my right breast. I toyed with the idea of fighting, but it would have been too easy for him to stab me in the chest. I was frozen in place. After it was over, I walked on another block and a wacko in a wheelchair told me that he'd give me $10 if I'd perform a sex act on his body! (Some days, you have all the luck).

As I was about to cross the final street to my house, the same bicycle came back, returning my broken purse! It was another man, who had heard me screaming, after the mugger took off, throwing me down into the street. The second person had chased the mugger. The mugger dropped the purse and bike. Now, this kind person was returning my purse. I was almost unable to speak at all. The police were called and a report was made. I was totally shaken and only discussed the incident with one co-worker, who kept quiet about it.

I had to force myself to be rational. All this emotion because I now know that a person I like wears a stud earring? I kept re-reading the email and my emotions weren't getting better, but worse. For some reason, I was now in full shut-down mode. I didn't want to talk to, or see this individual. I wanted to erase this new information. I felt like I'd been abandoned! For those of you who don't see the pattern yet, this is an extreme OVER REACTION. NOTHING about my friend had changed. He'd been wearing a stud earring during our entire relationship, the only change was my awareness of this fact. Usually, logic like this calms me down. No dice. I was still a mess.

When I'm in pain, I use humor. I got on Skype to a few male friends I was pretty sure weren't into earrings and we had a few laughs about the questionable state of Western Civilization. One gent informed me, that it was popular among sailors, as an easy way to show off and transport their wealth. No, I still feel like crap. I then noticed my earring sporting friend was text messaging me. I went cold inside, but had the (I believe) God-given wisdom NOT to act on my torrent of emotions. I acknowledged that the new fact bothered me a bit, but that I'd get over it. I then flat out lied. (One of those: "act as ifs.) Even though I was so screwed-up I was having trouble typing I said something like, "Don't worry, you are still my very cool friend". He laughed and (thankfully) didn't want to continue to chat. I thank God I did NOT share what was really happening with my feelings.

I have absolutely learned that when I over react, the current circumstance has absolutely NOTHING to do with the real problem. The real problem, is: I've been reminded of something from my PAST and my brain thinks its another emotional "emergency". I still had no clue as to what had set off my alarm bells. I knew my friend wasn't gay, and even if he was, I don't care about his sex life. He wears an earring, 90% of the male Marriott employees I've talked to, wear them, so why am I so torqued? I kept sinking deeper into a nasty depression and drawing a total blank as to why.

I now was literally clawing my way through that quicksand-kind of depression. Movement is hard, thinking is murky and my attitude is far below zero. It was actually difficult for me to do my housekeeping job. I'd catch myself sitting somewhere, staring off at a wall, just like my mother used to do. Oh geez, I'm thinking about Arizona. The absolute worst time in my life. Sexual molestation, neglect and abandonment, all within a terrible two-year period of absolute hell.

I was still smarting over a simple fact. My friend and his damn stud earring! I absolutely gagged on it. Why? Something about being gay, the gay lifestyle, or maybe somebody who wore earrings... Suddenly, I remembered another terrible incident in my life. I returned home from work to discover my bi-sexual husband cavorting with two naked boys, 14 and 16, on our living room rug! By God! I could have cared less that he was gay. I didn't want to sleep with him, so if he got it somewhere else, that was fine with me! But no way was I putting up with under-aged children being victimized. I began divorce proceedings and my world began a fast collapse.

Disillusionment! I thought I knew my husband, after ten years of marriage. But I sure didn't know he liked going after 'chickens' (slang for under-aged boys). He was also claiming to be an Eastern Orthodox Catholic Priest. For years, the site of priests vestments caused instant nausea. No one in my world would do that to any child! But I was sure disillusioned on that one!

I felt some clarity. I made wrong guesses about parts of my friend I had no information about. The truth felt like a disillusionment and now I saw the reason I was so totally over the top, emotionally. But, somehow, there was something more. My x-husband was not the root of my distress. He was an additional experience, confirming an earlier traumatic lesson about disillusionment, child molestation.

I was about 7 and daddy slept in my bed many nights. I'm not sure why. He did stuff to me as a baby, but I don't remember him messing with me until this one particular night. I woke up to him being really warm to the touch. He was thrusting himself at me. (I knew what he wanted to do, and I wanted to do it too). He thought I was my mother and he kept saying how they had to get to the hotel. I got up and walked around, trying to wake my daddy up, but he was too drunk. I got back in bed and the same scene re-played. For some reason, I put a stop to it. I got up and ratted out my father.

It was a pathetic scene. My father is blind drunk and has absolutely no clue as to what is happening. My mom is drunk too, but to her credit, when I told her what happened, and how my daddy thought I was her, she sobered up quick. She kept saying: "How could you? How could you?" My father just stood dumbly in the doorway of the family room - absolutely confused and stupid. I used to remember that scene, but just the blue wall behind my father. I'd cry for hours It took years to retrieve the actual memory, to where I could grieve the terrible loss of my parents, my childhood and my innocence. I hate sexual abuse, it trashes the entire life of its victims. There it was! A stinging pain, that never really goes away. I just choose to ignore it most of the time. There are only so many tears one can cry and so much time one can devote to the past. But what did all this have to do with a damn stud earring?

By now, I had begun to return to the here-and-now. I saw how an earring could lead to such an over reaction. Disillusionment for me was always an 'emergency". I can't remember making misjudgments about people that weren't major-league disasters for me. Well, I could see zero consequences for me, as it related to my current friend. At best, he has modern fashion sense, at worst, I can consider it a "quirk". I remembered the sermon from church about leaving the past behind, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.

By now, I'd finished my job and was walking home. I prayed that I could actually not return to the awful memories of my past. To take the faith-step of turning from those thoughts to something good in THIS PRESENT MOMENT! No lie, it took a lot of mental effort just to pray. I started out snarling at God, knowing He understands my process. He has taught me that it is safe to think the truth to Him. I have said some really nasty things at God, in anger and I know He understands. After the anger I just had to claim the promise that my future is going to be different from my past, because God said so. I slowly began to remember my up-coming vacation, food and some interesting computer work I was doing for my church. I am really jazzed about setting up an activities area on our web site, for the children.

Arriving home, after my thirty minute walk, I was no longer sad, depressed, or angry. My friend now simply has a 'quirk', I confess, I don't completely understand this particular facet of his personality, but so what? I'd still take a personal check from him, vouch for his character, trust him with computer passwords and even let him stay in my home alone. There are very few people on the planet I trust to that degree. My world was righting itself.

I'd gone from morbidity to normality. After dinner my friend, earring and all, and I had a lovely chat session. Yeah, he's the same as he was yesterday, except now I know he truly does sparkle :p. This post is one, somewhat confused journey, along that wonderful gift from God: The Road To Recovery.

Fast Traffic Lights Can Kill You If You Walk Slowly

This is an outrage! Slow-moving pedestrian gets $114 ticket in Los Angeles California, for "obstructing traffic"!

Before I got my walker, I fell hard on my left knee. For three weeks I had a white cane (blindness), in my left hand, and a walking cane in my right hand. I looked like a pair of windshield wipers walking down the street. For obvious reasons, I couldn't walk very fast. People would run into me and push me out of their way, on the sidewalk, or even in the crosswalk. I guess they were working for the CIA and it was an emergency.

Back thirty or forty years ago the average age in the United States, was a twenty-something, so timed traffic lights were set fast (four feet per second). Now, the average age is around 50-something and crossing five lanes of traffic at that rate is getting harder.

While I'm on drivers, I hate it when you toddle up to an intersection and jut your car totally across the intersection. Your butt is truly centered in MY crosswalk! I realize, sometimes, it is because you can't see around a badly placed tree, or corner. Most of the time, however, you are just in such a hurry! Cybergal got angry at such a driver once and faked a freak-out in front of him. I had the white cane and sunglasses and knew I looked totally blind. I deliberately slammed into the side of his car and started screaming:

"Oh, oh, at the blind school they told us that drivers would never block the crosswalk. I must be in the street! Oh, no, I'm going to die!" This man abandoned his car and walked me three blocks to my job. All the while apologizing for overshooting the crosswalk! Staying in character I kept responding:

"They told me, drivers are nice and don't block my way!" I'll probably go to hell for that stunt, but it still makes me laugh. We get tired of walking around your stinking cars, trucks and busses at busy intersections. I heard of an athletic blind gentleman who, when encountering a car in his path, at an intersection, climbed onto the hood and, using only 'proper,' cane technique, tap, tap, taped his way right across the hood of the offending vehicle! I'll bet the driver didn't even notice. Some of you, unfortunately, are too stupid to be driving.

I now introduce a new game called 'pedestrian bluff". I begin to cross a lighted intersection, having a green light. You see me, decide to have some fun, gun your engine and make me believe you are going to run me over. At the very last moment, you bring your car to a screeching halt. May you contract an incurable disease. Sometimes this behavior even has an audio accompaniment:

"See, I told ya, the bitch ain't really blind! Ha, ha, ha!"

And then there are you bastards on bicycles. Both times I've been mugged, the perpetrator has been on a bicycle. I see a bicycle coming towards me, on the sidewalk. Before the second mugging, (where I fought back and got hurt), I didn't used to fear you. Now I want to run. But you are moving too fast. I pull way over and stand still until you pass.

My walker is metal and I feel a little safer. A car can still run me over and kill me, but my baby will really mess up your paint job! If I throw my baby into a bicycles's path, I think the biker might sustain some injury, before attempting to mug me.

I realize that 99.9% of drivers aren't like the above, but its getting very scary out there on the street. People in wheelchairs, crossing 19th Ave. in San Francisco, California, on their way to San Francisco State University, report drivers dowsing them with hot coffee, or other liquid, as they try and cross the intersection!

The new hybrid cars with both gas and electric motors are whisper quiet and can't be heard, above high background noise, by a blind person. As usual, enough of us haven't been killed yet to cause the necessary public outcry and political fallout. It is the same for your toddlers on their way to school. An intersection that needs a traffic light will only get one when a magic number of said toddlers are run over. I saw this process and knew the grieving parents of child four. After child six was killed, a traffic light was duly installed.

One closing note. I am not totally blind, but I see about three to five feet ahead of me. I have been stalked by drivers and pedestrians. I assume if a car begins to tail me, that I've got a nut on my hands. PLEASE don't yell greetings to me, tail me, or honk your horn, or screech your breaks, to get my attention. I almost had a boss arrested after he tailed me for two blocks yelling: "hey baby!" I wasn't laughing then, or now. Thank you to the 99.9% of you who are decent non-offending road warriors trying to do life, just like me.

Humor: My Favorite Moments In Literature.

About thirty years ago I stumbled upon a book, Return From Tomorrow, authored by George Richie, who claimed to have 'died', experienced stuff "on the other side" and returned to resume his life on earth. In the early '80's, this was rare and way out on the fringe. Aahh, just my kind of book. Richie was in the military in 1947, got pneumonia and 'died' for about forty minutes. While people were going nuts in emergency trying to revive this man, he went through that tunnel, saw the white light and met his spirit guide. For Richie, as a Christian, he identified this guide as Jesus Christ. Jesus began to walk George through a review of his life by asking him what he did about the life Jesus lived. George Richie, in his mid-twenties, had no idea how to answer this question, but I believe deserves an award for the best attempted BS session in literature.

George Richie sorts through his 'good deeds' list and throws out to Jesus, that he was an Eagle Scout - Period. Then the best sentence in modern literature: '(Jesus) didn't seem very impressed." I've practiced for years, honing my BS-ing skills, but, I don't think I'd have the courage to try and slick one over on Jesus Christ! I still laugh to think of that story.

But tonight, I found a runner-up to the above. An innocent book review. But, what a review! MacPhilly didn't like the book, at all. (This is exquisite):

What a waste of paper. Seriously. Some poor tree had to die for this piece of crap to live.

Other then having a bronze plaque made of this quote, to hang near my monitor, ever reminding me of the price for sloppy, lazy, or ill-conceived writing, there is nothing to add to this fine commentary.