How throwaways do it part trois (three in French)

I have been asked why and how some throwaway kids make it through and furthermore make it intact to grow and sometimes even flourish into adulthood. I'll try to explain.

Saying that we make it through unscathed, integral or unbroken would be a lie. Truthfully, we don't. There is no way we can. Some may remain lost souls forever. We will forever struggle to reconcile all that has been embezzled from us either by force or of our giving out of fear of retribution if we don't give freely, to the silent part of us that has been thrust to the deepest darkest part of our souls after time even we forget it's there because it never sees the light until we know beyond all doubt we will be safe, even then others have to work impossibly hard to even catch a glimpse of it. Yet, there is a third and forth part that we need to interconnect to the above. Our intelligence or psyche, and the obstinate or as some would say defiant nature some of have, yes some more than others so stop laughing already folks..

Let me see if I can try and simplify this without over thinking it.

Every time a throwaway kid is hit, called stupid, dumb, or told we will never amount to anything so why don't we just drop out of school, or check ourselves into jail, some that are suppose to love and care for us will even go as far to tell us that we should just kill ourselves so they don't have to look at us anymore or so we will no longer be able to bring shame to the family or the good family name and that it would save the tax payers money is they didn't have to pay for us in prison for the rest of our lives. Basically anytime things happen to us that most say shouldn't happen to a kid we have to allow ourselves to separate just a little bit more from the core of the essence of what others say we were born to be even though we know differently what our true purpose for us is (that was covered in the previous post). We have to leave a small amount of what we think is an insignificant part of us behind in that place.

Let me add here it's not like a psych disorder like dissociative disorder, or schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder or anything like that. There is no psychological disorder that plays a role in this process at all, except maybe oppositional defiant disorder that that will eventually work for us.

We just know we can't hold it all at one time so we leave some behind and move on to the next event. It is how define survival of the fittest. Those that cannot do that may not make it out the other side. I know I almost didn't. I was holding it all and it was bubbling, raging, and boiling just below the surface and began to overtake my brain because as a throwaway who was I to tell not to mention as a throwaway who can we tell that may believe us regardless of how many bruises, and if we do we can be assured even more trouble will be waiting for us at home or where ever we go later. Throwaway kids are just seen as selfish, disconsolate, emotionally aggrieved children If we do take the risk and bring someone into our confidence, oh hell, it makes the situations worse. So we stay silent and pray someone notices something so we don't have to say it.

Another adjunct here, we throwaways can write about everything that has happened in our lives in beautiful or really dark prose or poetry, sometimes even songs, make the most spectacular and disturbing drawings and paintings, play wonderful or dank music, or develop our own language or words, codes sort of, only we will ever know what it means, but for us to sit down and say the words as the rest of society knows them, to speak them it brings an even greater shame, guilt, self loathing, resentment and hate for ourselves, blame and solidifies our conviction to our belief that it's why we were born to be the takers of everyone else's crap. Most will never know this but to a throwaway it brings a whole type of pain. Not pain per say but heaviness or burden on us that now we have to stand in the reality of the true word definitions and then see the horror on others faces when they hear them. That becomes more severe, cumbersome, and almost feels more violent then the occurrences themselves. We feel like we are being pounded into the ground and would rather melt right then and there to avoid that. Yet, we also know that if we get the chance to get older that we will eventually need to face that. Again, that is where having our friends listen to our silence is important no matter how old we get.

Throwaways also are masters at compartmentalizing things. This is also part of the separating things from ourselves. We must keep every event apart from the others. We don't like to just stack everything on top of the others. Although there are times we have to because our compartments become to full. At that point we categorize them by type of event it was, what it involved. Speaking from experience here when we do that we actually do forget about some of those things especially if the one who did it we are trying to hold on to some at least neutral memory. We forget it so it won't be on instant recall and bring the 'bad' memories to cloud the semi neutral ones we want to keep. I wonder if that even makes sense to anyone reading this.

As a side note: another thing throwaways do and I know this drives many people nuts; is minimize everything. Nothing is a big deal, nothing no matter the severity is a major occurrence. In our minds we believe this because we feel that if we survived it, than it's just not that big of a deal. Anyone that is not a throwaway kid past or present will never be able to see things that way. To them anything bad that happened to us is a big deal. We honestly believe in our hearts it's not a little thing but that inner voice does not yell loud enough to over take the inner voice that whispers in our heads., it's just another part of a throwaways life that is what it is. As long as we continue to survive than everything is fine and it's just another day in the life. Even if we do actually know it's something is not just a blip on the scale we have a hard time acknowledging it to anyone. To do so in our minds would mean that we were or are not tough enough to just not have it effect us. By a throwaway minimizing everything it makes it easier to continue to get out of bed each morning and continue to move ahead. Some how it is just easier to understand everything that's going on in our lives. A throwaway knows that at some point they will have to grasp the magnitude of things but they can't until the whisper of the heart over takes the screaming in their heads. Some throwaways just may need a little help making the heart voice louder. However, unless you are a throwaway one would never know that.

By keeping things separate we can hold them easier. It is at those points in our life I don't know what you call it but where some force enters your life and pulls some hidden rip cord we didn't even know was there that kicks those nice neatly stacked boxes over and creates a continuous running movie in your mind of everything. That is where we freak and become anxious. Now it's a film and all the emotions we thought we didn't have ascend and we have to make a choice to feel and acknowledge them or walk away from them. Although by walking away from them all a throwaway usually will self destruct in short order. Even if they have to take them in stages that is better than trying to leave them in the dust.

This is where our oppositional defiance helps us. This next part is going to sound stupid and completely brainless but follow me. Somewhere in the recesses of our mind where our self reliance and independence we had to have to raise ourselves because no one else wanted to participate, we intellectually know we are incredibly strong individuals. We are stubborn to a fault. From there is where we have to make our choices once we are free to do so without anyone else beating their own agenda on our already scarred bodies. We have to find our passion, decide what will rule our every thought and action and pursue whatever that is with as much violence, force, authority and control that was used against our every waking moment during all the time we were held hostage.

We have to find a very delicate equilibrium and calculate everything down the minutest of details. We have to make sure that all of the pain, mistrust in all humanity, the hate we have for ourselves and that others have for us, betrayal we felt around every single corner we turned, brutality we lived with and know as our normal and comfort zone, all of that we still have to keep hidden.

I'll simplify a bit and bring it to a more understandable situation.

You don't walk into a job interview or when you first meet someone that has the potential of being a friend, I really want this job and to be your friend but oh by the way if you ever feel the need to have to vent some anger and want to give me a fist to the face because either you or I feel I deserve it go ahead it's ok really, I'll be fine. And since were on that just so you are aware I may have certain quirks that you may find unusual like I may be really jumpy around people I don't know, or large crowds, and I may jump up and punch you in the face if you approach me from my blind spot without letting me know in some way you are coming, I'm sorry in advance for that it's just because when I was growing from as long as I remember and I remember much farther back that anybody I know, I had to endure through some very excruciating things that killed my spirit and soul and took things from me by force that was not for them to take but for me to give if I chose but deserved it every single time because I am a throwaway and my purpose in life is to be your slave and servant here to satisfy and gratify you in any way you may choose to use me, but by way when do I report for my first day, and lets go see a movie sometime new friend. That job and friend would poof right out of there leaving nothing but a charcoal trail they left as they burned the ground they left so fast. That is what the throwaway has to process to keep themselves appearing to be as normal as everyone else, when inside they know they must have a huge mark on them that everyone can see listing all their faults.

So we have to make sure none of that shows in our eyes or little quirks. We have to force ourselves to do things that at the time make us feel like we are going to hyperventilate and pass out. All to appear that we are just like everyone, or at least what they link is normal. We have to be every vigilant of what and how we say things. We over think to such an extreme other joke about it and tell us to just stop doing it. We can't that is another way we survived to bring us to where we are today. Now it is even more important. There are things that are still in the shadows even the memories are faint but some of those people could still actually get in trouble even if we are now adults. So we censor and edit every word that escapes our lips. It also prevents us from letting anyone get to close to that little scared and worthless child in us still lives. We still say all the same things in the high decibels of our silence I stated in the previous post except to an adult throwaway we have to control that too. Let's face it we would be and look stupid If we didn't. It is all part of the balance.

My last point is most people that find out there are throwaways out here are amazed that we have any capacity to love, care, know what Is right and wrong, have a solid moral compass on which we stand, and just basically turned out to be some of what appears to be the most forgiving and compassionate people they have ever met. They can't begin to fathom how we raised ourselves, and are not jaded, or filled with so much fury and resentment that we don't want to destroy everyone that ever laid a hand on us like a friend of mine told me today how "disgusted and angry" at this person being discussed because of what happened.

We can't acknowledge or have access to all those feelings my friend mentioned today. We don't understand why others get so worked up about things that to a throwaway are just a part of our life. It is just another given that things like that happen to us. It is our normal, it is what we know as love and self worth. We know it is better to be wanted for something even if it hurtful to us. We can't stay in that angry spiteful place because if we do we will spontaneously combust. We have to chose what is important and worth wasting time on and what isn't. However, we have to be defiant and rebellious just enough to be able decide ya know what screw all you people! All of you, all of you wretched, miserable, putrid, repugnant, disingenuous, ungrateful, sorry sons and daughters of bitches, poor excuses of a human beings, you are a living, breathing proof that not only have human genomes not only been through several stages of evolution but that huge mutations as do really occur. What you will never know unless you have a highly developed and sensitive ear to read and hear the silence you won't know that while we convey that on the peripheral in the confidential, secret recess of a throwaways mind we will still know and believe with every ounce of our being that we not only deserved but in someway asked for every minute of it and feel worthy to have been chosen.

As to why we love so deeply regardless of all that has been done to us it is very simple and complex all at the same time. Simply speaking because we can so why not? On a multifarious elevation we do because we HAVE to, because despite any of the broken bones people may have caused, type of violation committed against the throwaway especially if by societal norms some of those people had been entrusted with safeguarding our hearts, minds and bodies are the exact people that began the conditioning they would need to numb themselves out and learn how to separate and leave those little particles of myself behind so they could continue to take more from anyone else that may want a piece of them. We have to love because it's how can continue to see the same people and and continue to endure day after day.

The populace that our voices will not be silent for is those that have been entrusted to care for the throwaway. They will protect them at any cost even if it is with our spirit and body. They will be thunderous in our defense of them. They will fight and argue that those people didn't mean to do it. They didn't mean to teach us that the definition of all love is total and complete viciousness annihilation of the throwaways innocent child's spirit, soul and body that was placed in their arms through whatever channels it took to get that throwaway there. The fresh untarnished unwritten upon slate of the life you now hold. That is what a throwaway knows and believes is love. Anything thing that wavers off that base line we do not understand and is ironically viewed as abuse.

It is also an undying need that another driving intensity is our conceded selfishness that is if a throwaway continues to love them with all our might maybe just maybe someday it will come back to them. The way all our unspoken silent screams beg and yearn for and not the way we know it love to be. If we love them deep enough, hard enough, and with every ounce of everything we have in us eventually they will come around and finally protect us, keep us safe, hold and hug us the way we have needed so long ago. All along we know that will never happen. We will continue to deserve to be a throwaway to all civilization and know that we will be thrown right back into the dumpster or trash mountain we had to climb out of just so you could hurt and accost the throwaway again.

Yet, we love also so we can help all the throwaways that are still coming behind us. So we can teach them how to survive through it. So we can tell them we understand their silence in a way no one else ever could or will. So we can reach our hand out to them so they can grab hold to be pulled out of their deepest secret place. So we can hold them and tell them they too will be OK. So we can do for them every single thing that all the people in our own lives failed to do no matter how loud we cried, begged, needed, wanted or pleaded for. So we will not have to look back and wonder if we did enough, if we touched them, improved their life, made them feel safe and did everything we could for them regardless of bureaucratic red tape. That we jumped every hurtle, and scaled the tallest of buildings, cut the chains and protected them no matter what harm may befall us. So that they will know that anything that maybe be coming to them we will step in front of their small, bruised, broken and violated body so that the attack will have to pass through us first now. We will wipe away their tears, even those that run hot down their throat so no one can see them. So they will know we not only see them we hear them. We will take them home and make their life better and not just tell them we want or wanted to. We will take action to safeguard your spirit, soul and body even if that means our bodies get broken, bruised, violated, and more scars form on top of the ones already there. We will fight to the death for them until we no longer have even the smallest amount of oxygen left in our lungs or own body collapses and falls into the grave that was dug for us the day we were born. So they will know how to champion and wage war for all the ones that will follow after them.

It all follows what we know to be our purpose in life. Fulfill everyone else's needs at all costs. Do it all to us, we can take is, they cannot. Let us take it or you steal it from us, let us service you and please you. We must place all throwaways that are to follow into that equation too, so their burden will not be so heavy, and maybe by us taking it they won't have to and may even be able to end up in the 'good' ones group.

That is why we must love, have compassion, come out on the other side, and be as oppositional and defiant as we can be.

I hope this had some semblance of reason I explained it well enough.

There may be more to follow later. This post seems scattered to me and may get some tweaking later. For now, here it is...

Haunts, Taunts, and Blessed Teachers Part 1

6^th grade

Ok, I am going to digress a bit during this. Follow me I will name names and give all the dirt..

Let me start this by saying I love teachers. I think they are heroes to so many kids during their tenure that they will never grasp it all in their lifetime or know the impact they had on their students, good or bad.

So this all started when I emailed a few peeps early last week at the school district with an inquiry and comment of sorts. Ok fine, all good right? Oh man… I get a reply from 2 one from my former 6^th grade teacher. Innocent enough right? NOT! She was asking if I was at Badger Middle when she was there and told me her maiden name. Oh here we go I thought. So I responded basically "had you not said your maiden name I would have said that, yes I was in Badger at that time, but I don't know you. However, I can't because you were my 6^th grade teacher." I asked her if she wanted to out for coffee sometime. I hadn't heard anything. I called her a few days later and she said sure. During our conversation she had mentioned that another former teacher of mine was in the office next to hers and they ended up talking about me and realized they had both had me as a student at two very different intervals, Mrs. K (middle school) and Mrs. S of sophomore year and all of junior year. We talked for a bit on the phone and set a date to get together. That was today.

After I hung up the phone my first thought was oh no what did I get myself into. I remember being so mean to her. She was young and only in her second year of teaching. I guess I should say that I was in the "special education" classes because I was too hyper and too smart for my own good; so I have been told. By the time I got to 6^th grade I thought I was "stupid damaged goods".

My grade school special ED teacher was abusive physically and emotionally to us. I started with her in kindergarten and had her every year through 5^th grade. Every year was more of the same. Calling us stupid, sharpen pencils and poke us in the head if she felt we were or were not doing something she wanted us to. Snap her fingers against our heads for the same reasoning. If we said something she thought inappropriate she would hold out a tablespoon to us with either Tabasco sauce or cod liver oil. Have you tried that stuff, nasty big time nasty. We also would have to stand in the corner with our noses in the corner and many times on one foot for hours sometimes as a consequence. If we put our other foot on the floor or nose out of the corner it just made it twice as long. She smoked in the classroom with us in it. Even the principal was afraid of her. We had no advocate and were too young to know we needed one. I was 5 – 10 years of age what did I know? I did teach myself to not be afraid and just know that getting hurt in some way was a given. It would defiantly happen every day. So if I wasn't afraid anymore I would not longer make myself hyperventilate at the sheer possibility of harm.

Home life was shall I say challenging as well. My mom had issues with my level of energy and I never felt an actual part of the family. I always felt like I didn't belong. I will say that many adopted kids feel that way. It is normal but add that on to everything well….. fill in the blank…

I do not say that as an excuse for my behavior towards my 6^th grade teacher Mrs. K. there is nothing I can offer but my apologies. Still, that hardly seems enough when I think about it. Not that I have guilt per say I just did what I felt I needed to do to make it through another year and a new teacher I have for the next 3 years. My philosophy was "cut it now and prevent all harm." Don' feel, don't fear, don't think! That had been my experience with school that was what I knew. I did not and dared not to trust any person in any kid of authority position. It was not safe. Unfortunately, it was me that missed an opportunity. She was not a bad teacher I never gave her a chance. From the moment I first walked in her classroom the first day of school (and I do remember it) It was already over in my mind. I would bide my time like all the years before. I was wild, cantankerous, rude, mean, disrespectful, and everything else you could imagine, and all in a 10 – 11 year old, 4 foot 4 and around a 70 pound body. It was all about survival even if that meant collateral damage. I didn't care about trying to prove I was not stupid. Damaged goods nobody could have begun to get me to understand that I wasn't. A lost cause that was all I heard. Not from Mrs. K but other teachers I did have that same year too. Mr. C was good at saying that. What was one more person telling me that?

To say that to a child just trying to find their way is a prophecy waiting to happen. The people that tell them that ingrain it so deep that is EXACTLY what that child will become.

Mrs. K was a good teacher and she did try with me. She was a young teacher and I was a tough kid. I have thought about her over her over the years. As I got older I knew I missed out on a lot of things that year. I am just sorry I realized it too late. I wanted to say I was sorry for being a big ole jerk. How would I begin? Uhm do you remember me? If you do is it for anything good? I didn't even remember her married name or she was even still around. So while I still thought about it from time to time I figured there was nothing I could do to right any of the wrongs from that year.

Now I had an Email from her? Holy **** I damn near panicked. Called my friend Mar as asked if I really had stepped in it now. She was like no it's a good thing. I was like ya right tell me one I might believe.

Well….. I WAS WRONG. Yes, I said it. I can almost hear the Heavens opening up and a choir of Angels singing hallelujah. HA!

I met her for lunch but it turned into a 2.5 hour conversation. I now know that I absolutely missed a fabulous opportunity to actually allow someone into my interior world in 6^th grade. She cared actually genuinely cared. She didn't even really know me but she cared. She tied to understand. Tried to provide opportunities for me where a light of hope could reach me. Did everything she could to show me I could trust her. So as intelligent as I was I missed all of that. I was so busy protecting myself that I ended up keeping myself in such a closed off state of mind I missed so much.

I will say however, I was still young and the God concept that I know and have now was way over my head. I do believe that God gave me that teacher that year if for nothing else as a sort of respite. I had a horribly violent teacher 5 years before and ended up with another bad, cruel "your being stupid, bully of a man for 2 years after. Looking back I think it was God, NO, I know it was God that was watching out for me even then. He gave me the gift of a non – abusive year. He knew that I could not have endured another consecutive year of that kind of "teaching" without completely shutting down forever. Flat line bbbeeeppp!

I am grateful I had Mrs. K that year. I am sorry I did not understand the grand picture than. I am sorry I didn't pick up what she was putting down. So I would like to thank Mrs. K my 6^th grade teacher. For the time and emotional investment she placed in me. It did register it just took me a bit longer to understand it. You are certainly worthy of the title educator. Not all are.

My only regret about today is my own insecurities when it comes to clear and coherent verbal conversation. My brain thinks faster than I can speak and I know I talk fast. Ya try being in my head. Not only that but I also almost always have a whole other conversation going on in there at the same time I am still engaging who I am speaking to at the time.

Ah well wasn't it Shakespeare that said in Taming Of The Shrew "What is past is prologue"?

If you Mrs. K (6^th grade) are reading this thank you for meeting me today. Despite my own nerves about what you remembered from your year with me, I was shocked that you didn't remember all the horrible things I did. It certainly was not what I expected. I thought I would end up doing a great deal of graveling. I guess you didn't live up to your "potential". HAHAHA I know you got that if you are reading this.

Thank you again Mrs. K for being a teacher and especially mine. You ROCK!

Don't speak it out!

OK it's been a while. I have not really had anything to say. Well, that's not totally true. I have said a great deal in my community about issues we have going on here, just not here on my blog.

Have you ever had something inside you that was so deep and personal? A hope, dream for your life, job or something similar? You don't want to talk about it, or express it to anyone. Afraid of what would happen if your dream did or didn't come to fruition? So you keep it between you and God. You don't tell or talk to your closest friends about it. Even if your friends know you have a talent or gifting for the area your secret sits in. So you sluff it off as a random event.

A prime example of this is: I have always had a love or passion if you wish for words. Any and all words. I loved the way random letters come together to form thoughts, opinions, feelings or anything. I picked up how to formulate these letters very young.

In school I was always "housed" in the "special education classes". I was a rambunctious kid with what some said was hyper. I say bored, bored to death. So I caused all kinds of havoc as a way to keep my brain from shriveling up and shutting down. The teachers didn't appreciate this too much. I had also figured out very very young that if I showed as little potential as possible little was expected. It was like "oh she tied her shoes YEAH!! clap clap" So that was my thought process in ELEMENTARY school. Scary right? It gets better. Every year my special Ed teacher would have to test us to see how close to grade level we were performing. I remember the day in 2nd or 3rd grade that this occurred. (That's another problem I remember everything practically, I forget very little. Some how things stay in the back of my mind yet available for instant recall.)

Anyway, I chose to actually try on some of the tests. So I randomly chose what I would and would not perform on. I chose to take the reading, vocabulary, comprehension and all that one seriously. So when the annual reports went home I peeked at mine. I tested almost out high school. I was only in 2nd or 3rd grade. I was the kid that would sit on my dad's lap and read the paper to him once in a while. I know crazy kid.

After those tests went home I had some explaining to do. I said it was a fluke and did my best to bomb every test I was given after that. It worked, I was successful., YEAH!

For all the years following up to where I am today, I held my secret. I have written things in the past. Creative writings, college papers, things for media outlets etc. and have had any number of my friends tell me "God made you to be a writer." Or things of the sort. I would think ya ya whatever. All while holding onto my secret.

Well, I have recently made the decision to test the waters. I responded to an ad in the same paper I have done front page articles for about my many Hurricane Katrina disaster response trips to New Orleans, they were advertising for freelance writers. I called, and was told they would give me a shot. WOW.

I was scared and elated all in the same moment. The simple first story was about the Daisy Girl Scout troop of 5 - 6 year olds. What is the old saying? Never work with animals or kids they steal your own thunder? I did it and was and am proud of such a simple story.

So for those that have tried to push me into some sort of writing over the years I am trying to do some sort of semblance of it now. Are ya happy? (snickering) However, putting some of my most private or emotional thoughts into those random patterns to create words and sentences are still difficult.

There is still a little fear left. I have put myself out there and been approved of. Not not only by humans, but by my heart. the silent, still place that lingers by itself afraid to raise it's hand to be seen. I have always known that there was something different about me and my fascination with words. As I got older I understood that it was a gift from God. I do not know if I would describe it as calling or anything but I know it comes from God, not me.

I know that sometimes when I do write certain things (and I know this may sound strange to some) I feel different. I don't feel the need to read it over and many times do not even want to. In college I always started writing my papers the night before they were due and handed them in without a re-read and got A's. I usually stayed up all night writing them. For some reason my most creative or open times always come in the middle of the night, and I do mean always. Figure that one out.. Sure, there are times that I become insecure and re-read edit, and repeat over and over again, but this brings me to my entire point.


We as humans can have gifts, talents, callings, skills etc, and we can be confident in them. However, I believe that if we leave that place of questioning and rest in our own confidence we move outside of God's grace. We step out on our own and hang ourselves over the cliff. There we dangle and wonder what happened to our giftings. It is not until we look back later that we see what happened. Is it pride? In part. Is it human nature? In part.

It is not that we are not comfortable in our individual skills. It is that we fail to remember it is God who gave it to us. Even if there are others with similar abilities it is He who made them so minutely different our human eye may not see the differentials. It is He who continues to re-supply us with it. That is what we forget in our own busy, hurried, self confident lives.

Just another tale from the rabbit trail.
I would love to know if this makes any sense to anyone else but me.