BPD and parenting

hugmamma:

A writer whose hope soars heavenward, even as she stands in quicksand. Her life…a prayer.
………hugmamma.

Originally posted on kelzbelzphotography:

A while ago I was asked by a fellow blogger about parenting and bpd (boarderline personality disorder) and how it affects my parenting and children. Most of my mental illness is minimised for them. They don’t know about my attempts or self harm. They know mummy was very sick and sad and was in hospital a few times. They know I’ve been in therapy and group. I’ve discussed the ins and outs. Why I did it, basically what it involves. I’ve been honest now when mummy is sad. It’s ok mummy is allow to cry or get angry sometimes. But mummies skills will make it better. They have both seen how low I was, and now how stable I am. I’ve had to gain their trust again. They were both scared they would have to move out again. It’s ongoing with their trust. It can take something simple as me…

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On Meeting Robin Williams, Twice in a Lifetime

hugmamma:

A sweet story of Robin Williams in the part of…an ordinary man. Hugs to this generous soul for allowing us to see the humble side of a genius.
………hugmamma.

Originally posted on Obzervashunal:

Robin Williams memories

As a remembrance to one of the greatest comedic minds of our times… R.I.P., Robin W.

I only just learned he passed. I found the news on a blog post and instantly recalled the two times I met the incredibly gifted artist, named Robin Williams.

The first instance was a chance meeting, me walking down an unassuming sidewalk at dusk stuck in my thoughts when a puppy jumped on my leg. I didn’t do much thinking, I simply bend down and started playing with him. The voice offering an apology was one I knew also without the use of my thinking apparatus, Robin Williams was saying sorry for his puppy… who couldn’t talk (I think!).

We actually talked for a few minutes, mostly about the puppy. I remember having the feeling he needed not to be recognized, but to be treated like a regular guy walking a friendly, cool puppy. …

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three dimensional…

Just like my writing, I think of myself as a three-dimensional person. 

I’m compassionate and I’m edgy. Those who have followed along with my blog since its inception in 2010 have probably gathered as much.

Humor, of which mine is the tongue-in-cheek variety, lightens the stresses of everyday life.

To always dwell in the softness of clouds is not my life, and therefore not my writing.

I leave sweetness to those who handle it more deftly.

Others perceive what they will from what I write.

I myself tread lightly when looking into their souls.

For I know not from where they have evolved.

As they know not from whence I came.

Veils lift…shadows give way.

Accept what’s there,

…as it is offered.

………hugmamma.

goldilocks…who’s that sleeping in my bed?

Fellow blogger Following My Joy posted the youtube video at the bottom of this post to her site  at
http://followingmyjoy.com/2014/09/01/its-raining-cats-and-dogs/

Her post reminded me of my own pets Mocha and Sitka. I guess it’s true that when it comes to canines and felines…kitties have the upper hand…or so they like to think. Is it fearlessness, egoism, or…just plain ignorance?

 

Meanwhile, as my kitties demonstrate…blood is thicker than water. Brothers Sitka and Juneau have no problem sharing tight quarters. On the other hand, when Sunkist was still with us, she made no bones about her displeasure at sharing HER space with Sitka. 

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February 2011 00019

long gone…the wild, wild west…

Repeated several times on CNN news this morning were the compelling stories of American hostages being held by the government in North Korea, as well as by ISIS terrorists in Syria. Anyone listening to their pleas for release must feel compassion for them and for their loved ones back home. No one would want to trade places with either the captives or their families.

I must confess that while my immediate reaction is one of sympathy, there’s also a niggling feeling that Americans tend to take risks without sufficient thought as to the consequences. Yes, I’m sure they reflect upon the matter, but not enough to dissuade them from their course it seems. 

For better or worse, we Americans tend to think we can go anywhere, do anything. We rationalize our thinking by either following our God-given right to do so, or our sense of morality. Meanwhile, we don’t take into account that other cultures might feel the same way about their rights and moral obligations.

That I can understand the other side’s viewpoint is perhaps owing to the fact that the Hawaiian Islands, my birthplace, were annexed by the United States against the will of the reigning Monarch, Queen Liliuokalani, and the majority of natives. 

Of course the transaction was not a simple one. It never is. There was enough finger-pointing to go around. However, the Western businessmen who prodded the U.S. Congress and President Cleveland into making Hawaii a Republic had railed against the natives as being ignorant heathens unable to rule themselves. 

Of the 150,000 Hawaiian residents, fewer than 800 were allowed to vote for the ratification of the Republic of Hawaii.

“Why is that?” you ask.

King Kalakaua, the queen’s predecessor, was unable to secure the intervention of other foreign powers to help thwart the efforts of his opponents. He was forced to sign into law a constitution which required voters to own property. It became known as the Bayonet Constitution. According to the well-written book Princess Kaiulani, Hope of a Nation, Heart of a People by Sharon Linnea…

This effectively took the vote away from most native Hawaiians and gave it to virtually every Western businessman, even those who weren’t citizens. Why did so few Hawaiians own land? For centuries, Hawaiian land had been overseen by the alii and his people–the concept of owning land was completely foreign to Hawaiians. When Western businessmen had begun to want to own Hawaiian property (and reap Hawaiian sugar profits), land formerly governed by alii had been parceled out to the Hawaiian people. Native Hawaiians, often unable to read English, had had no understanding of how a piece of paper could mean that they “owned” mountains or lakes or coastland, and they had been happy to sell the deeds to Westerners for cash in hand. In this way, many Hawaiians had ended up homeless in their own country. Now, according to the new constitution, the Westerners had bought up votes along with the land. The running of the country would now be in their hands.

Yes. I have empathy for fellow Americans who find themselves in life or death situations. However my eyes are also open to those who might feel we are trespassing upon their territory, their religion, their culture. So the fact that our government must tread lightly when our citizens find themselves on hostile turf is not altogether unexpected. 

…the days of the wild, wild west…are no more.

………hugmamma.

(Photo courtesy of Wikipedia)

 

The Next Generation of Care Providers

hugmamma:

Bless medical providers like Dr. Washington who are helping provide us with the next generation of physicians. Fortunate we are when they are not only taught the necessary skills, but also the compassion and concern to help their patients through the medical process.

Hugs, Dr. Washington…for all you do.

………hugmamma.

Originally posted on A Family Doctor's Reflection:

Every month that I post the latest update from “The Ladder” I smile at the amount of fun the kids are having. They are being introduced to physical exam and radiological tests I did not see until  I went to medical school.  They are smiling and I was terrified. I can only hope that some of the kids go on to become health care professionals. They are the future doctor, nurse, physician’s assistant or radiology technician. Medical schools are expensive in the United States. So a physician’s assistant (PA) or a nurse practitioner can be a rewarding career with less long-term student loan debt. The first hurdle is to stay in school. They need the encouragement to struggle through math and science and not get discouraged.
Recently I had an opportunity to refer one of my patients to a former resident. He has a sports medicine practice. I remember the first and last day…

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unique is…as unique lives…

( Move your mouse over each photo, to read its caption.) 

To each there comes in their lifetime a special moment when they are figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a very special thing, unique to them and fitted to their talents. What a tragedy if that moment finds them unprepared or unqualified for that which could have been their finest hour

-SIR WINSTON CHURCHILL -

I would like to credit the assembling of this post to another blogger from whom I borrowed SWC’s words. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to relocate the blog from whence it came. If you recognize this quote, please let me know so I can give credit where credit is due. Without it, I would not have thought to post this homage to my UNIQUE AND BELOVED…DAUGHTER.

………HUGMAMMA.

“mahalo”…to my followers…

Hawaiian for…Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

It always amazes me when another “follower” hops aboard hugmamma’s mind, body, and soul. 

No kidding! 

There are millions of awesome writers and photographers on WordPress. Capturing even a fraction of them with a post or two is mind-boggling. To have them sign up for more than that is beyond comprehension. Truly…beyond hugmamma’s comprehension.

I’m not sure how others with as many as a thousands followers…or more…even begin to repay all the visitors to their blogs. That alone could be a full-time job. When do they have time to live? 

I tip my hat in homage to those who can keep one hand permanently affixed to their keyboard, while fulfilling all their other obligations with the other hand. I’m not one of them. Never will be.

Taking time out every now and then to thank those who consider my writing worth reading is what I can manage without totally upsetting mine and my family’s pineapple cart. That and including as many as WordPress will allow in my community of photos in the left-hand margin of hugmamma’s mind, body, and soul. BTW…if you click on a photo, you’ll be magically transported to that blog site…for more personal stories.

One other thing I try to do faithfully is repay visits to those who click “like” on my posts and/or leave comments. I figure if they take the time…so should I. It may take me a while, but I try very hard to keep this promise to myself. Even as family and pets call my name…”Mama! Mama!”

In further appreciation, I’ll remember all of you in a collective prayer. 

…for you…hope, joy, and peace…always!croppedphoto

………hugmamma.

 

nurturing thursdays: get ready, get set…get moving

I’ve done my fair share of packing up households because of a new job. Never my own. Always my husband’s…and now my daughter’s.

Let’s see, a change in jobs in 1976 landed my husband and me in The Big Apple. We were in our mid-20s then. That was fun, especially since we’d left one island, Oahu, for another, Manhattan. Worlds apart, though, if you’ve had the good fortune to visit both. Lucky us, having resided where tourists love to vacation.

Four years later, we moved again. This time, Redding, Connecticut, to escape the hustle and bustle of the city. As different from NYC as one can get. Only 11,000 inhabitants at the time. Probably not many more now. Great place to raise our newborn. Lots of wide open spaces. Exploding fall foliage colors that knocked our socks off! Small town parades. Country fairs. An idyllic setting where everybody knew everybody.

When our daughter was 11, we moved again, much to her chagrin. We trekked cross country to Seattle where hubby got a promotion. And here we’ll probably remain, unless Hawaii, land of our birth, beckons us home.IMG_0809

Just because hubby and I were settled, however, didn’t mean our daughter was. At age 16, she moved to Atlanta, Georgia where she trained for 5 years, hoping to become a professional ballet dancer. Because she was young and didn’t yet drive, I moved with her. For 2 1/2 years we managed on our own, while my husband remained in Seattle earning a living.

Dancers go where the jobs are. And so our daughter moved once again, to Nashville. I flew back to Atlanta to help with the packing while she was at work. She lived and worked in The Music City for 6 years. Midway through, she downsized to a smaller, cheaper rental which meant another move. Of course, I was there to help our daughter whose broken hand was in a cast. Discovering a bed bug larvae didn’t help the situation any. Neither did the reappearance of the cicadas who rose from where they’d been sleeping for 13 years, in the ground beneath the trees in and around Tennessee. 

A year ago our daughter decided to pursue a different dance path. She moved home with my husband and me while she auditioned hither and yon, and danced a couple of gigs in Houston, Texas. Storing her belongings meant moving stuff around in our house. Throw in a couple of remodels, and we had to move things around again.

One year later, we’re packing up our daughter’s furnishings once again to move her back to Nashville. She’ll be dancing with a newly formed, contemporary dance company this time.

At this stage, I could probably get a job with a professional mover. I’ve packed enough boxes in 43 years of marriage, I could probably do it in my sleep. Which reminds me, preparing to move leaves little time for rest. A couple of catnaps here and there suffices.

Because moving also involves selling and buying houses, or renting apartments, I’ve become a pro at that too. Because both my husband and my daughter have had to get on with their jobs, I’ve been the one to handle the transitions.

Then, of course, there’s the decorating. Imported Photos 00176

Everyone who knows me, especially those who have visited any of our homes or rentals will attest to my being able to whip a place into shape in no time. In fact, I can do it as often as the spirit moves me, which of late hasn’t been as often as it use to be. The spirit’s a little more settled these days, owing to wisdom…and because my “get-up-and-go”…got up and left.

Something my daughter said yesterday in the midst of packing up several boxes, ensuring they wouldn’t break the mover’s back when he lifted them, made all my years of moving worthwhile. Stopping dead in her tracks as she was heading down the hallway, my daughter returned to where I was bent over fitting wrapped items strategically into a box. As I stood up and faced her, she placed her hand firmly on my shoulder and with eyes wide and grinning from ear to ear, she said…“You’re amazing!”

………hugmamma.

 Please check out other inspirational posts at…
http://beccagivens.wordpress.com/2014/08/28/nurturing-thurs-rebuilding/

 

 

cruisin’ for a bruisin’…in the not-so-friendly skies

Nowadays, airline passengers are fighting mad at being sandwiched into their seats like rows of sardines.

What can a passenger do, short of punching out an annoying fellow passenger?

My suggestion?

Zone out!!!

“Zoning out” during a 5 hour or more flight isn’t for novices.

I try to sleep…or pretend to sleep. Makes the flight go faster if I’m not awake to count the seconds, minutes, hours.

Helps me assume…rigor mortis! Or an approximation thereof.

I see nothing. I hear nothing. I speak nothing. I’m wholly intent on getting from Point A to Point B.

No fuss. No muss. No stress.

How the airlines are messing with me is not what I want to ponder in these my Golden Years.

I’ve got enough on my plate to consider…bloating, constipation, overweight, hair loss, arthritis, fibromyalgia. Then there are the HIGHS…high cholesterol…and the LOWS…low metabolism, low thyroid and, of course, low libido. And let’s not forget the INs…indigestion, incontinence, insomnia.

Enough. Don’t you think?

Recent news stories about passengers duking it out with fellow passengers and/or flight attendants, foretells of heart attacks waiting to happen or psychos in the making.

As with anything else we choose to buy, like it or not, we know what we’re getting ourselves into. And if not, who’s kidding whom?

Yes, I could spend all my days and nights writing irate letters to Presidents and CEOs of air carriers with whom I might have a beef. I did do just that recently…  http://hugmamma.com/2014/06/08/a-complaint-letter-works-hawaiian-airlines/
Once-in-awhile is okay, but I wouldn’t make it a habit. Life’s getting too short for that cat-and-mouse game.

In older age…I’m more suited to a swan’s life…serene…”with an edge”…tucked securely beneath my feathers. So don’t ruffle them…

…if you know what’s good for you…
………hugmamma.

(Looks like designer A. Yaghoubi might have the right idea with his AIRGO design. Each passenger has his own “bubble.” No need for physical interaction whatsoever. Isn’t that what life is all about these days?)
http://www.gizmag.com/airgo-economy-seat-concept/26339/picturesairgo-airline-seat-design