Storage.googleapis.com



Dear HeartBy Gina Marie MisnerTABLE OF CONTENTSChaptersI Family Times (15) II The Country Life (22)III When a Loved One Leaves this World (29)IV My High School Years (39) V Rehab (50) VI Addictions (55)VII Piecing Together My Last Day in Denver, Colorado (73)VIII Co-Dependency (84) IX My Road to Recovery (89) X To My Fellow Peers (98) XII A Dedication to My Family (104) XII Thank You (111) XIII In Hindsight (116)XIV My Therapy (120)Epilogue/The Gift of Sharing (127) POETRYI My Sorrow (12) XVIII Mother (126)II Country Living (20)III The Fate of Daddy’s Hands (22) IV Father Clayton (30)V Full Grown (32) VI Full Blown Drunk (48)VII A Eulogy to an Addict (58) VIII Food Stamps and Government Checks (62) IX God Sent Me an Angel (68) X Black Eyed Suzie (78)XI Happiness is What We Believe In (88)XII My Spirit (96)XIII Prisons and Institutions (100) XIV My Advice (108)XV The Love Between Friends (113) XVI While We’re Apart (116) VII Wings So I Can Fly (118) Dear Reader, I was born in 1972 in upstate New York. From age 18 to 28 I traveled by bus back and forth across the United States from Oneonta, New York to Denver, Colorado. During that time I studied at one of the best colleges in downtown Denver to become an International Marketer. ???????? I was nearing graduation and planning on doing a study abroad program in Urbino, Italy when I was stalked by two men, creating an incredible amount of stress that I could not endure. The end result was that I began exhibiting symptoms of mental illness because I couldn’t sleep I was so scared. This caused me to return home to my mother’s house in upstate New York in the year 2000. All throughout my life I had used drugs and alcohol, but while packing for the trip to New York from Colorado in the year 2000 my addiction to drugs and alcohol were only getting worse. I say this because I was drinking and getting high as a kite on drugs as I went up and down the street giving away my belongings to my neighbors many of the things that I had worked ten years for. In the year 2000 I returned home. I had remained contact with a few “friends” that were from Colorado while living in New York. ??????? I kept in touch with the man from Wallingford Connecticut.? He and I had ended up driving across country with one another. I met him?in Colorado by becoming roommates through the newspaper. We had a short conversation on the phone?and then I went to check out where he was living with a friend of mine. ?I moved in and somewhere around?five or?six weeks?after we began dating. The house he lived in was on the East side of downtown Denver which was considered a bad neighborhood but I was not aware of it. At the time I was seeking a place to escape the situation I had put myself in; mainly living with drug dealers and their friends. Even crazier was the fact that I was being stalked by one of my ex- boyfriends. He was from Westminster, CO. To alleviate the problem I decided to escape the situation by moving?home to New York due to becoming homeless. I?moved thirteen hundred miles away from the West Coast. Three days later I arrived at my mother’s house on the East Coast with my roommate and companion from Wallingford, Connecticut. I’ll never forget that day because it was on Cinco de Mayo. This may have been a coincidence, but in my mind I had known a lot of Mexican drug dealers out West so it caused me to become paranoid of everyone including the man I had just driven across the United States of America with. The worst part was that when we finally reached our destination in New York (my mother's home) we ended up in an argument. The end result was that he drove off with everything I owned, and I mean everything including a picture of my Great Great grandmother on her death bed.??????? Looking back?it was before?I even left?Colorado that I was becoming more and more depressed and as I did I drank to forget that my life was going straight down the tubes. Between living in Colorado and going home to New York I not only lost all my material items, but I also lost a chance at a fantastic career. I lost my family because I had let them down. I lost my dignity and my spirituality and basically felt that the whole world could care less if I was even on the planet. It was in the year 2000 that I decided that life just wasn’t worth living and so I tried to commit suicide by taking an over dose of Seroquel. While I was staying at my mother’s home she became curious about the change in medication that occurred at a hospital in Sayre, PA. She then proceeded to call my sister because I was acting so strangely. During the call she had my bottle of pills in her hand. As soon as my sister picked up the phone, I ripped the pills from my mother’s hand and as I did my mother screamed which prompted my sister to call 911. That day the police told my mother to take me back to my apartment. Within a matter of a twenty-four hour period I had stabbed a young boy that I didn’t even know with a six inch knife due to the command hallucinations that told me to “stab him, stab him”. I was so happy when I found out that he had survived that I wrote him a letter apologizing to him for what I had done. Later on I would write a poem explaining my thoughts and emotions about my instant offense called “My Sorrow”.??????? To continue it took me approximately?eight?times of going back and forth between county jail and a hospital in Marcy, New York in order for the doctors to deem me competent enough to stand trial. ????? At the end of 2003 I was finally admitted into a forensic state operated facility after committing a crime in the State of New York. The court found me “Not Responsible due to Mental Health or Defect.” ???? Over nine years has gone by and I am still writing poem after poem while institutionalized. In one way or the other each poem has been inspired by something either in my own life experiences or the lives of others sometimes in conjunction with today’s Mental Health System. In addition, I have written some songs, and a few raps, which were also inspired by fellow patients. In some cases, friends and family contributed to my work by making suggestions therefore, this book is dedicated to many people and might not have even been possible without their inspiration. ???? Next I’d like to mention a little bit about Domestic Violence. I’m mentioning this, because I know from first- hand experience that there needs to be an improvement in resources being made more readily available to victims in order to guide them in a direction that will help them escape physical, mental, and/or psychological abuse. It is very important that more therapists be hired to help people recover from the abuse they’ve endured in an effort to help them lead productive lives without feelings of low self worth. I say this because it took many years for me to receive my own therapy; most of which I received at a forensic psychiatric hospital located in New Hampton, New York and Albany, N.Y. It has taken me a long time to feel like I am a person that is worthy of love. If you are reading this and feel that you are in an abusive relationship my only request is that you seek help. Therapy is just one way that a person can seek help when they’ve become a victim in a relationship. If you’re not receiving therapy that’s worth attending then maybe consider trying organizations for battered women or men. Search for different organizations by going On-Line. These organizations could very well offer you the safety you may be in need of. ????? Currently it’s the end of 2015 as I reside here at Albany’s civil hospital in Albany, NY where I’m receiving care from my second treatment team due to my own request. I have not seen the outdoors of this hospital since I first came here in the end of the year 2010. I was supposed to be getting my paperwork passed by the administration and judge to get my first furlough however I had some small setbacks with a female and male patient. This patient (a male that I knew from another facility) had crossed my personal boundaries knowing very well that it would make me angry in many ways. The unit I was originally on was almost completely all male with the majority being 330.20 CPL’s except for four females including myself. Being a domestic violence victim myself, I will never fully understand why this facility would put me on unit with all men that were practically all 330.20’s and in groups that were specifically geared towards 330.20’s. It’s my understanding that I was the only 330.20 female in the hospital at that time. My Co-Occurring Substance Abuse Disorder group is currently all male and my Forensic group only has one other 330.20 female. Granted the instructors of the groups from time to time may be all female, all male or a mix. There are also interns who usually spend their time getting their feet wet by evaluating not only myself but others in the groups I attend. Let me point out that I was placed in a Stress Management group (which was comprised of all men except me). Even the instructor was male. My Stress Management group caused me to be more stressed out than relaxed. I wouldn’t have minded attending the group if it had been held in the morning or the afternoon, but it was in the late evening instead. This is when I like to wind down by making beaded necklaces; bracelets etc. to help me focus and enjoy myself on my own free time. ????? For me this book conveys my inner most thoughts and feelings about the world?I believe we?live in today and how it's gone astray. This is true especially within facilities that do not always provide the most therapeutic atmospheres due to the lack of space and privacy. In has only been since the year 2012 that Albany’s facility has made it possible to go on overnight passes, weekend passes or even day passes on a regular basis especially if you’ve been classified as dangerously mentally ill (aka a 330.20 CPL). However, we still have problems from time to time because of the current budget cuts and lack of staffing to allow people to leave the facility on such outings. ??? I’d like to?also add that there are many of us who suffer from a dual diagnosis; meaning we have a substance abuse problem and are classified as mentally ill. Those who have not been diagnosed as such are in need of education and therapy so they do not end up inside a forensic or civil hospital. Attempting to educate those patients who are diagnosed with only a mental illness may very well be helpful to mitigate the number of people who could end up in a forensic or civil institution, prisons and /or jail today. Consider the number of people who could end up in a situation where they fall victim to someone that didn’t get the proper education or who were taking their medications while using some form of drug and / or alcohol. They could become dangerous if they don’t take time out to learn about their mental illness and substance abuse issues. I’d like to take time out to encourage all those who suffer from a dual diagnosis to make some kind of changes in their lives. ie. to make an effort to work with your psychiatrist in an effort to take different types of medication until he or she finds the best combination. Those patients that don’t grasp this concept of change end up going through what many call the “revolving door”. In some cases many patients may not ever return to society which many times is a reality for those who are in forensic hospitals. I say this because some people never quite recover from paranoid delusions or hallucinations however sometimes if they are provided with the right kind of education the end result may very well be a healthier person with a healthier mind. Take me for example. It has taken me a long time, because in the beginning of my mental illness I was uneducated and banging my head trying to grasp what happened to my mind. Although I was admitted into hospitals before my instance offense many times they didn’t spend a whole lot of time explaining to me that I could become a danger to myself and others without my medication and I definitely should have been kept longer for I know looking back I was still exhibiting symptoms every time I was released. I got very little help from most of my psychologists/therapists back then because many had been over worked and ended up falling asleep on me during my sessions. I can honestly say that once I did start receiving therapy on a regular basis from a few psychologists/therapists who really cared I became less of a basket case. Therefore, I’d like to point out that therapy has been a big component of my recovery mainly, because of the fact that I endured a lot of psychological and physical abuse from my ex-boyfriend who had left me with little to no self-esteem by the end of our relationship which occurred in 1998 (keep in mind that he tried to contact me many years later while incarcerated in the year 2005/2006 at the forensic hospital in New Hampton, N.Y.). There is an actual document of this in my records. ?????? Since the beginning of my case, Robert Corliss,?who is an?Advocate and lawyer has been there for me. I’m very grateful for him. There have been moments when I have taken time out and thought to myself, if only the psychiatric unit I was first admitted to in my hometown of Oneonta, New York would have realized that I needed more than just medication. I sometimes feel that if I had been given more cognitive therapy from the very start I may not have committed my instance offence. However, I will say that I think that the long term cognitive therapy I have received since my incarceration has helped me to gain a great amount of insight into why things happened the way they happened which is primarily because I made some very poor decisions in my life as many of us do when were young. I just like to say that in hindsight things have gotten a little better over the years. Since December 30, 2011 I have been in a civil hospital located in Albany, New York. The facility has it set backs like not being able to walk the grounds without a furlough (at least for 330.20’s) This is worse than most prisons from what I hear, however, I have been given more freedom in some ways. I can leave the unit almost anytime throughout the day usually for groups, I get some free time for myself and I have a much better paying job that allows me to order out food to be delivered. I am able to order out anytime during the week as long as I have what is called a “white tag”. Recently at the end of the year 2015 I have worked in multiple positions and I am now being trained to do accounting work.?????? As I’ve said before I’ve had an advocate that I thank God for because of the fact that he has stuck by me through all my ups and downs. Even through my incarceration at the forensic psychiatric center that I was in. I am suggesting that as clients we remember that a great support network is very important and a wonderful thing to have in our tool belt. Support networks are an important part of a person’s success, because it is the people who are in our support network that will care enough to point out when we’re not doing well. I myself have found that my support network has been the glue to my recovery in that they have shown me the ropes and given me the motivation to try to live again. ?????? If there is one thing that I would like the reader to take away from this book it would be that anyone can end up suffering from a mental illness, for it doesn’t discriminate and can be brought on by enormous amounts of stress or traumatic events that have occurred in a person’s life. Mental illness is considered to occur in many cases for example being triggered by either stress and/or traumatic events, and especially if drug induced psychosis is present whether with medication or without. Last of all I’d also like to point out that more education about mental illness needs to be implemented to not only police personal, but also personal in prisons, jails and institutions in both America and around the world today. - Gina Marie Misner Poem IMy SorrowI didn’t even know you,Not even your full name,But I know the time has finally comeTo say I’m sorry you were the victimOf the racing thoughts within my scattered brain.By now you are aware of the fact That I have been defined,As dangerously mentally ill,‘cause I stabbed you from behind,What you might not know is that I dealt with the stigmaThat is attached to mental illness almost every single day,Because people who are ignorant Have nothing nice to say,But as this point let me gather my thoughtsSo I can help you to understandThe reasons why things turned out like they didWay back then.It all began when I fled Colorado,Because I feared for my life,After being stalked;Not only once, but twice.It wasn’t until I hit New York’s soilthat I became aware of how sick I really was,I couldn’t seem to stop talking about the past,It was like I was stuck in quick sand Or mud.I can still recall the terror I felt As I kissed the ground beneath my mother’s feet,While my heart pounded out of controlWhich scared the hell out of me,In no way am I trying to justify my instant offense,I just wanted the chance to let you know That I too had become someone’s victim,So young and innocent,And if I could I‘d turn back the hands of time,In order to fix the things that I’ve done wrongbut I realize now that it’s the tragedies in lifethat help to make us strong.Chapter IFamily TimesNamed Gina, (after Gina Lolobrigida according to my favorite Aunt) I am the second to the last of four siblings including three brothers and one sister. I would have had a younger brother named Jamie, but tragically he was born premature. There is a huge gap in age between my siblings and I. For example, my oldest brother William is about sixteen years older then me. My only sister is one year younger then William. William was a name that was passed down from one generation to another in an effort to keep the lineage of my great grandfather and grandfather on my mother’s side alive. My middle brother Clayton named after our father has the nickname Sonny and is somewhere between seven to nine years older than me.My youngest brother Rob who is about 3 to 5 years older than me. Over the years this has been the only way that I have been able to somewhat keep track of everyone’s age since I am unaware of birthdates which is probably due to leaving home at such an early age and not keeping in touch with my family for a ten year span while living in Denver, Colorado. As a kid, home resided on top of a hill in a little bitty town called Margaretville, N.Y. We lived on Swart Hill Road which was a beautiful place. The hill itself is covered abundantly with Birch Trees, along with Wild Blueberry and Wintergreen bushes. I can still picture our back yard in my mind. It was a field layered in grass for at least a mile or two and as I looked passed it I could see my Great Uncle Jim’s house along with my father’s pond which he created with his own sweat and blood. It was even fully stocked with Bullheads and other fish meant for consumption. I vaguely remember living in a quaint little dwelling that had very few bedrooms but a fairly large living room which was having an addition built off of it by my dad. Around that time my parents were in the process of a divorce when I was about age four or five which was the result of my father’s late nights spent in taverns playing country western music and drinking heavily which of course lead to him cheating on my mom. I even remember one time when he took me to a woman’s apartment that was just getting out of bed in her green silk robe. The next thing I saw haunted me for years but I never did have the guts to tell my mom until I was much older for I didn’t know how to approach her with it or if I should even bring it up to her at all. I remember him kissing this woman and later when I found out what sex was I realized my dear old dad sure as hell had cheated on my mom. Anyway, the addition to the house never did get built, not even after my parents divorced even though my mom let my dad stay on the property with his new girlfriend. In my mind my mom is one fantastic lady for all the crap my dad put her through and even more so because she supported not only him but all of us kids as well.The house that my parents lived in was very nice despite the fact that we had hard wood floors which caused me to get splinters in my feet. Then there was the linoleum which covered the kitchen floor. I remember when it ended up being melted by a fire in the house. I don’t remember how it ended up catching on fire though. I do remember there being an old wood stove that we cooked most of our meals on and it was also used for the purpose of saving money on heating bills and such. On the back side of the house was a little room for storing things which my sister made into a fort for her club. In order to get to the cellar and to the garage you had to walk down a set of stairs made of stone that wobbled. Here is where my father kept his tools. For example, there were chainsaws that hung from the ceiling by nails in the cellar and excess parts to cars that were lying around in the garage. There was also an old fashioned washing machine located in the cellar that had a ringer on it which my mom used to use to keep our clothes clean. There was also a garage where my dad tinkered and fixed cars, which was another place for us kids to get hurt. I considered the garage to be just as dangerous if not even more dangerous than the junkyard we use to play in if you can believe that. It was in my father’s garage, that my brothers and I played on the compression jack he used for his cars, We use to take turns using the compression jack to give each other rides. One time my brother Rob accidently let it fall on my head because if I remember correctly it either ran out of compression or he released the lever to quick. Either way I ended up with a big goose egg on my head.Looking back now my mom was a lady that I now have come to realize has suffered a lot of tragedies in her life, not only mentally, but physically too. For example when she was young she ended up having a Hysterectomy and almost died in the process. The operation caused herto lose an excessive amount of blood so my father, against the Jehovah’s Witnesses beliefs signed the dotted line and gave her blood so she could continue to live. Needless to say, in the end my father was dis-fellowshipped from their Kingdom Hall for authorizing the transfusion of blood. My mom on the other hand was given the option of remaining part of the Kingdom Hall as long as she asked to be forgiven for receiving what Jehovah Witnesses consider “unclean blood”. My mom never did return to the Kingdom Hall and as far as I’m concerned God let her live, because he not only had a purpose for her, but he felt that she was worth saving.Poem IICountry Livin’What’s that you say?You’re from the country!Hey, well that’s O.K‘cause hay is for horses but I bet you already knewSo what’s it like in the middle of nowhere?Do you ever just wanna cut loose?It’s been said that country livin’is like being in a rodeo,it’s whole lotta fun,‘til you let gobut as for them city boys they don’t care for hay and rodeos the way us cowboys do.Incase you didn’t know itcowboys are into cows and trucks and they drink beers and suchall afternoon,while them city boys listen to rap we country boys sit out on our front porch singin’those low down heartbroken blues,so if you city boys are wondering what us cowboys do,we like to spend all day long listening to country songswhile drinkin’ a beer or two,because if you’re gonna live in the countryyou should do as the cowboys do!Chapter IIThe Country Life I’ve learned through my own experiences that people who live in cities always wonder what us country folk like to do for fun. I don’t know about other families, but I can remember crab apple fights with my siblings at the young age of three of four. We’d pick a tree and pelt each other from a distance with the sour fruit. I can remember crying because it use to sting like hell when I got hit. When my mother would get after my brothers for pelting me with the apples, they’d blame it onme by telling her that I had insisted on wanting to play and that basically that’s just how the cookie crumbles.I have a memory of how I hid behind my moomido’s (pronounced Moom-e-do) Lilac Bushes while smoking a cigarette butt I found in an ashtray. (Moomido was a nickname I gave my mother at a very young age). What happened was my brother, Sonny caught me smoking and to this day refers to my behavior when I was a child as “Monkey See, Monkey Do”. Even though I copied a lot of what my older siblings did, looking back I became aware that what I was doing was a definite no no and so it wasn’t a big surprise to get a lecture or a spanking as a started to grow older.Another form of entertainment as mentioned before was the junkyard my father owned, for us kids played in it for fun. That lasted only a short time for my brother Rob and me. One day during the summertime we were playing in a Station Wagon where we ended up having an encounter with a spotted adder. Let me tell you, we almost shit our pants simultaneously. We were so busy having a good time taking turns rocking back and forth with our legs wrapped around the steering wheel that we almost didn’t hear the quietness of the snake all the away in the back seat of the broken down Station Wagon we were in. When I reminisce about such things I chalk them up to just another hysterical moment that defined us as children with creative minds that never needed entertaining. Next there is the story about us kids riding our dad’s old lawnmower which was broken down. We’d push it up to the top of Swart Hill Road and then ride it down to the bottom of the hill directly in front of my dear old dad’s garage. I recollect how much fun this particular experience was until I got hurt while helping my brother Sonny push the lawnmower. My head hit a metal corner on the mower and sliced my scalp clear open. I was fortunate because the cut didn’t require stitches and I probably wouldn’t have been taken to the doctors even if I needed them anyway. Hospitals are a last resort for my family and are used only in near death situations. In retrospect, I’ll never forget the homemade go-carts and bicycles that my brothers use to make out of spare parts. This kind of fun involved many accidents and became another form of entertainment that lasted for hours and of course provided great stories to tell for years to come. One story involves my brother Sonny riding his tricycle to a place where he used to play a lot as a kid. Our sister, Bonnie and our oldest brother William (aka Billy) decided to ride bike that day too. While they were playing one of them stepped into a Black Jackets nest. Immediately everyone jumped on their cycles in order to escape from being stung, but poor Sonny was unable to keep up. Needless to say, he was stung over and over again before he finally escaped on his tricycle. There is another story of how my brother Rob ended up stung when we were kids. There was this great spot where there was a stream I remember going to as a kid. My brother Rob was swept downstream by a current so he grabbed a hold of a branch on a tree hanging above him. What do you know but it was just his luck that there would be a Black Jackets nest attached to the branch he was holding onto. He was then rushed to the hospital to receive treatment for he was swelling up quite badly and my dear old sister became very concerned so she insisted he go get checked out. In all reality, she very well may have saved his life on that day because she dunked him under water and then dragged him from the stream. As for holiday fun, I had many cousins and many times we visited one another to feast over whatever our families could afford. Typically each family member would bring a dish to pass, but the family member who hosted the festivities provided the turkey and stuffing on Christmas and Thanksgiving Day. Booze of course was always present along with the sound of a guitar and the harmonizing of voices. One of the worst holidays I remember took place during the week of or after Thanksgiving in the year 1991. First of all, my father had a major truck accident. He almost killed himself and someone else by drinking and driving, but God decided it wasn’t his time. When all was said and done he had survived the accident due to the miracle of a helicopter flying him to Sayre, PA., hospital. After recuperating from the accident my father was sentenced to two years in prison and lost his license for the rest of his life. There were other stories about my dad’s drinking like the time he got a ticket in his own driveway because of his latest wife’s daughter was having a party for her graduation. He was so angry after the cop left that he proceeded to drive to the police station to find out who had made the complaint that the party had been so loud. He then ended up getting a second ticket for driving while being intoxicated. Another story I remember being told about was when my dad ripped his hip clear out of socket while water skiing. He was so drunk he didn’t realize the severity of the injury.Poem IIIThe Fate of Daddy’s HandDaddy’s Fate Line is brokenin two placesthe first break occurs just before the headline, the line of mental health.The second break appears only inches from his life line,long but jagged.I can sometimes picture him in my mind,clenching his fists together trying to crush the fate of his hands as he sits sober for the first time in 35 years,behind the cold bars of a New York Penitentiary.if only he had studied palmistryhe might have made his choices differently,without the drunken nights spent wasted and wasting precious time,but it’s to late now for a wife or a family,time has altered his life line as it has grown deeperwith old age.I wonder if he sits on a cot barely large enough to fit a man whose six foot three,rubbing his palms sore with guilt while he tries to erase he drunk- knuckled stupidity,an illness gone bad;the veins of his backhand bulging,gripping the thought of being free. Chapter IIIWhen a Loved One Leaves this WorldMy father no longer lives to tell his story, but his children, grandchildren and great grand children will continue to tell stories about his legacy so his name will live on. On the next page is the poem I wrote after he passed away in the year 2010. It hurt me greatly to see him on his death bed while in hand cuffs. Even still I was glad to have the chance to say goodbye and wouldn’t have had it any other way. I love you daddy and I know you’ll be with me always in spirit and in song.Poem IVFather ClaytonAs a family we knew himAs a man of brilliance and awe.He was a simple man,With simple flaws.Not only was he a man filled with the knowledge Of a hundred and sum men;He was a man who spoke about the good old days And the way things were way back when.He was a man known for his integrity,a man of very few needs.He rarely asked for anything but,gave of himself freely.He was more than just a strong man;He was a man “to old to die young,”A man that will be remembered for all the things he’d done,But the day finally came when we had to accept the fact,that death would be his fate,and it was then that we thanked God for the chance to say Goodbye,to a man who was so great.The next big tragedy that took place in 1991 happened right after my father’s accident. My moomido’s mother, Anna Meade died. A short time after grandma died so did my mother’s brother, or Uncle Donny. Uncle Donny had had one too many beers over his life time and therefore ended up with a nasty case of Cirrhosis of the Liver at about the age of fifty something. Somehow my family and I made it through the winter and the holidays although much of it was spent mourning over the death of my uncle and grandmother. To this day, when the holidays roll around, the family remembers those who have joined The Maker. My moomido and her sisters still continue to tell stories about our grandmother. My siblings and I recall many things about our father and try to remember only the good times we had with him. Clayton (our dad), was known to play the same songs on guitar during the Holiday Seasons and many times Uncle Donny and Uncle Jerry would join.Other fond memories that the family can recall involve my Great Uncle Jim sitting under his old Oak Tree on the front lawn of my parent’s house in Margaretville, N.Y. He was a very large man, who was part Native Indian. He was also a huge inspiration to me and my entire family, mainly because of the stories he could tell about the hard times he had growing up. According to my brother Sonny my Great Uncle Jim would sit out on the front lawn drinking Whiskey all day. The story continues like this; there was a man who worked for the Town Reporter. He came looking for my Great Uncle wanting to interview him for the paper. Great Uncle Jim refused to answer any questions the man wanted to ask him. He explained to the Reporter that chatting was out of the question, because Wilson had kicked his ass the night before. When the Reporter asked him where Wilson was my Great Uncle Jim simply replied, “in the well”. The reporter then became concerned because my Great Uncle Jim stood about 6 foot 3 inches and looked like he weighed about 300 lbs. The Reporter then assumed that the man my Uncle spoke of was in a great deal of danger. To make a long story short he was very worried that my Great Uncle had possibly left this poor man Wilson floating somewhere in the well. As a result the Reporter insisted that my Great Uncle Jim show him Wilson’s whereabouts. It turned out that Wilson was merely a bottle of cheap whiskey that Great Uncle Jim had tied to a rope which he pulled from the bottom of the well. Keep in mind in those days my Uncle Jim was known as a moonshiner. The memories that I have of my Great Uncle Jim may not be as funny as my brother Sonny’s but I do hold them close to my heart. For instance, I have a memory of twirling a stick from an old apple tree between my fingers while marching back and forth as if I were in some kind of parade or something. Meanwhile my Uncle Jim would sit in his old rickety lawn chair made of wood, drinking his whiskey while telling stories or singing songs that captured the days he worked as a lumber jack before he got a nasty case of Gangrene in both feet and eventually had to have his legs amputated. That became the beginning of the end of his life and it was around the time I was twelve years old that he finally joined the Great Creator in the sky.Another memory I recall took place one summer day when I was playing with my neighbor’s daughter, Kelley. Together the two of us decided to steal what we thought was my Great Uncle Jim’s Wacky Tabacky. Turns out we were wrong. It was his snuff. Neither one of us had never been so sick in our lives, not even after smoking a full pack of cigarettes. I myself never really did start smoking on a regular until I was about age fourteen or so.One of my memories of the divorce of my parents takes me back to Upper Main Street in Delhi, N.Y. This is where my mom, Great Uncle Jim, my siblings and I re-located after my parents’ divorced. It was a quaint little apartment but it truly was far too small a place for all of us to live. First of all it was only a two bedroom apartment with a small kitchen, a large dining room and a large living room. My Great Uncle Jim moved in with us, and literally lived in the dining room area. My mother had created what she felt was the best privacy for my Great Uncle under the circumstances. She did this by putting up a curtain in front of his bed which divided him from the kitchen. My oldest brother Bill and his soon to be wife Dornora took over the living room space by sleeping in a roll away couch. My brother Rob and my brother Clayton had a bedroom which was extremely small and my mom, her boyfriend and I shared the master bedroom. Although we lived in such a tight space we were a happy bunch. Our family problems didn’t arise until each of us discovered drugs and alcohol a few years later when we began to realize one by one that not just alcoholism but addiction ran wild in our family. Almost like a weed, no pun intended. Throughout the years however, it has taken time for me to recover from the pain of both my childhood and romantic relationships due to my Co-Dependency meaning that many times I put up with a lot of physical and psychological abuse. In the end I’ve come to realize that it’s hard not to make yourself a victim if you started out that way not on your own accord but because of the people who influenced you most in life. Being a little boy or little girl and having no real control over how your elders treat you or bring you up is usually (to my knowledge) out of your control. This is true for most people who may have had their own experiences as children in dysfunctional families. The cycle of abuse needs to end somewhere within an individual’s life. If you feel you’ve been a victim of a dysfunctional family or relationship consider therapy. It might just help you gain your self esteem back. Poem V Full GrownA child learns to adapt,Is taught to adapt And growOutside its cozy den,Learning lessons As it pounces And plays Of how to fight and winThe game of survival:To prey And feed On nature’s society of meager benefits,Gaining knowledge fromEach treeIt climbs Each enemy It encounters as itHides from the shadowsOf life’s Unexpected predators. From this the child,No longer a child,But now A full grown Carnivore;Must bare its claws and teethMust choose a pack to feast withor hunt alone.Chapter IVMy High School YearsWhen I look back over the years (especially my high school years) it’s no surprise to me that I started off very shy. I had maybe two or three really close friends and by the time I hit seventh grade I had discovered drugs and alcohol which impacted by grades causing them to drop to the point where I was just squeaking by. I was always in trouble and was not a very studious student at this point I might add.My best friend Tam and I spent a lot of time in detention because we were always caught skipping, smoking or being reprimanded for being disruptive in class by trying to make certain teachers look like bigger assholes then we already thought they were. A good example was when we’d pass notes in Science class. One time Tam got caught with a note we passed around asking the question, “What would you do if you had a million dollars?” She had just finished writing down that, “She’d get rid of the asshole who was teaching class,” when the teacher himself, confiscated the note while she was passing it to me over my shoulder. of course she was sent to the principal’s office. I too had several times when I was sent to the principal’s office while in Science class. One time I lit a fire cracker that nearly made my teacher jump through the ceiling when it went off. Another time I stole the light bulbs from my teacher’s presentation on the current of electricity so he wasn’t able to do the lesson that day. It is also during the seventh grade that I was invited to my first party by a friend I thought I could trust. I went to the party and had my first interaction with booze and pot. I learned quickly that if I had a few tokes and a couple of beers I could relax around people, especially men. On the other hand if I added to many beers and a lot of pot my body couldn’t take it, and in the end if I had anything in my stomach it all came right back up. At this stage I became a prime time candidate for being taken advantage of by men. As a matter of fact it was around the age of fifteen or sixteen that I started to party in high school. One time I even was caught around Christmas plastered on rum and cola. I was sent to the Principal’s Office where I proceeded to write a nasty note that read, “FUCK YOU” which I placed in his mail box. I also stole his prescription glasses and placed them behind the medicine cabinet at the Nurses Office and I ate all his Christmas candy off his desk. When he came into his Office I was sitting in one of his chairs when he noticed the pins I had on my jacket which had some very vulgar messages if I might say so myself. I was a walking advertisement for sex, drugs and rock-n-roll, but no more then the next teenager. For example one pin read, Funs my middle name, Fuck is my last”. Another read, “Your father should have pulled out early”. Another was just a picture of the dog that represented the advertisement for Budweiser making it famous. He demanded that I take them off and pin them on the inside of my jacket instead of on theg outside. I was then sent to the Nurses Office by the Principal where I was being so disruptive that the Nurse told me to lie down in the back room where all the sick people were. The Principal paid me a visit and began asking me questions about who had been drinking with in school that day. I told him, “I’m not at liberty to say”, to which he responded, “ if you tell me you will only get detention”. I then told him, “I’ll think about it”. A little while later he came back to the Nurse’s Office to find out what I had decided. I told him, “this is the deal”. “I’ll tell you the initials to every student that I know that’s been drinking”. He demanded that I give him the grade level each student was in as well so he could narrow down the amount of students who were walking around drunk on the premises of the school that day mainly, because he his job was to make sure that all students were safe and returned to their parents in one piece. I gave him what he requested according to my own set of rules. I gave him the initials and grade levels, however I came to the conclusion to use the first one’s that popped into my head. He left to go research the information I gave him and about an hour or so later he came back with a bunch of names of students. I had my ear up against the door when I heard one of my best friend’s voices and I thought oh shit I’m in deep trouble now, she’s been caught. The high school Principal opened the door while I was listening to the Nurse give my friend a lecture about drinking and being intoxicated because of how dangerous it can be. Little did I know one of my other friends had gone to the hospital that day because he drank some rum that I gave him which had sugar in it. Turns out he was a diabetic. I was unaware of this and the dangerousness of his illness. Anyway as the door opened I almost fell into the Principal’s arms but I caught myself and drunk as skunk told him, “Come on into my Office, have a seat”. If looks could kill I would have been dead, isn’t that how the saying goes? By the time he rattled off all the names from the information I had given him my mother had arrived at the school to pick me up for it was unanimous that I had been considered quite the nuisance that day and so therefore it was time for my Christmas vacation to begin.When I returned to school after Christmas vacation it was in no way a shocker to be called to the Principal’s Office. I was expecting it. I was sitting in my home room class when the phone rang with the Principal on the other end. Down to the Office I went to receive my punishment which would have been lighter but I refused to tell where people had gotten their liquor from. I went back to my home room and just as I walked into the door the phone rang again and I was sent back down to the Principal’s Office. The Principal then asked me if I knew where his glasses were. I responded by asking him if I could have a moment to go to the Nurse’s Office to retrieve them. I was given the go ahead and within a matter of moments he had his glasses in his hands for they were right where I left them, behind the medicine cabinet. All in all I was given in school detention for about a week. To be honest with you, it really didn’t teach me much at all and I still lacked the respect I should have been giving to my teachers and elders. Why didn’t it teach me anything? It wasn’t until I had skipped school with people who were already graduated or in college that I realized what I was doing myself. I actually ended up going to a club in my home town, Delhi, N.Y. at the age of sixteen which landed me in the hospital because I drank too much Vodka . In the end it was believed that I had been taken advantage of by two if not three college boys who had taken me back to their dorm area after leaving the club. How did I get into the club? I used one of my girl friend’s ID which didn’t even have a photo. I ended up overdosing and they left me for dead in the lounge area and I was found wondering around in my underwear and bra which I have no recollection of because I had drank so much Vodka to the point that I had blacked out. All this was the result of a fight I had had with my brothers for they were sick of me running up a huge bill for my mom on the phone because I was constantly having phone sex with my boyfriend from New Jersey. The other part of the argument with my brother occurred because I was trying to get a hold of a friend of mine so I could go to a party she had invited me too. Looking back I’m sure my brother beat me up because he knew that I was headed down a wrong path way to young. After all I was only sixteen. Somehow big brothers know what drugs, sex and rock-n-roll mean to a young girl who is just learning about the word “party”. This is where I learned that there is nothing great about being drunk when you almost lose your life ‘cause the party is over. My brother sure was right to worry because just after our argument my friends showed up to take me to their party. I decided I was going to use the excuse that because I had cleaned the house up that day and he had messed it all up I was allowed to get loaded. For three days no one heard from me. The next thing I knew I was waking up in the hospital having my stomach pumped due to alcohol poisoning. If it wasn’t for two college girls who found me wondering around I would have been dead long ago for I’ll be forty-three on January 23, 2015. The end result of this is that it was written in my reports that I had tried to commit suicide when in all reality I didn’t even know at that time what alcohol poisoning was. A few Doctors decided that I should be taken to a hospital for an evaluation. I was considered suicidal which they had concluded was the case because of how much Vodka I had drank. To this day my records reflect this however, I know the truth. I would not have considered myself suicidal for how could I have been if I had no knowledge that you could die from drinking too much. To me drinking was something I could do forever. It was fun and it helped me to escape the pain I felt due to my parent’s divorce and the fact that I had been taken advantage of sexually at such a young age. More importantly, at that time in my life I was not aware that a person could die from something known as alcohol poisoning. Never the less, I agreed with my counselors and my mom to get help by going to a Rehab in Scotia, New York where I received treatment for Alcoholism for a few months. I then was given a plane ticket by a fellow alcoholic to a place located in the Twin Cities of Minnesota. I spent a month or two there, went home and stayed sober for about one year. My sobriety didn’t last long. I had very little support at home and had no way to get to meetings or at least I didn’t reach out for the support I needed to get rides. Then again I lived so far out in the sticks that I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to come pick me up. My mom however did take me to a few meetings but was unable to do it very often because of her work schedule. She came to the rehab center a couple of times and learned a lot about herself while going through counseling with me. It is my understanding that the family use to meet around a campfire and hold family meetings. As for me, going to Rehab would be the first time I would open up to anyone about my own pain and sorrow. Many times I felt alone as a child because I was the youngest and my only sister was living on Nantucket Island with a man who worked for the Coast Guard and whom I later learned abused her quite often. When she finally left him he followed and stalked her. Little did I know but I would end up with the exact same fate.Poem VI A Full Blown DrunkToday I look at myself as someone in recoveryBut I once was a full blown drunk;Now I’ve come to realize,That honesty has been helping me to overcomeThe reason I drank so freelyLike my bottles of beer and rumFor it was because of the drinker within me That I lost my connection with the Father and His sonSo now I pray to my higher powerIn order for me to feel, something more than emptinesswhile remembering where it is that I came fromfor it’s when we lose track of the important things in lifethat we start to realize that our drinking was no longer fun so if you need a way to help you quitremember what the fellowship has done;not just for me, but for many who have admitted to being a full blown drunk. Chapter VRehabIt was somewhere around 1988 or 1989 that I arrived at Rehab in Scotia, New York. Let me just say I was scared shitless. The first thing I learned was that I used pot and alcohol as a remedy for dealing with life’s problems, big or small. It wasn’t until later on in life that I would learn that I was an addict, through and through, meaning I drank and drugged no matter what the occasion. The first night I was there I was made to go to a mandatory meeting which was something I knew nothing about. I remember hearing horror stories one after the other. One story was about a girl who was my roommate. She had become addicted to Volumes which were prescribed by her doctor. She had to be slowly weaned off of them and I’ll always remember her crying and having the shakes while she lay in her bed. At that first meeting I started to realize just what kind of problems alcohol could create for so many people, especially being legal. I learned a little about prohibition and I knew my Uncle Jim had been a moonshiner himself, yet I just couldn’t grasp why as humans we would choose to destroy ourselves with man’s concoctions. Not just alcohol but all kinds of synthetic drugs that exist especially here in the millennium. It was when I was in Rehab that I was introduced to crack addicts. I took one good look at some of the people who were still having a hard time recovering and said to myself that I hoped I never ended up looking like the victim of a drug dealer’s candy shop. Many people who were junkies looked like they were nothing but skin and bones. Unfortunately the truth is I ended up in many of the same types of predicaments as some of the addicts that I had met way back in 1989. I became homeless, jobless and very much a wreck psychologically due to bad relationships or friendships that went astray as soon as I dropped out of the party seen. I also lost a lot of weight and as a result looked extremely unhealthy. It was pointed out to me that I had many traits of a Co-Dependent personality, especially since I had watched my mom be the survivor of a very abusive relationship physically, emotionally and psychologically. I myself was considered very promiscuous at a very early age. At age 16 I had slept around with many college students who were mainly in their twenties. Many of the women that I met in Rehab were actually prostitutes and were so addicted to Cocaine that the only way they were able to receive drugs was by using sex as a form of payment. I never prostituted myself out. The best thing that’s happened to me in years is that I am now selective about relationships and believe I have found the man I want to be with for the rest of my life. I have also spent a lot of time rebuilding my self esteem which wasn’t easy because I had to accept some of my flaws.The sad part for me as I look at my history is that I was taught so much at an early age, however I didn’t stick with the addicts who were in recovery. I’ve learned throughout the years that if you relapse you will in fact end up one of three places: Jails/Prisons, Institutions, or worst of all, six feet underground.Rehab also taught me about recovery, however it didn’t teach me why I used in the first place. At least not that I can remember. I learned things that were supposed to help you function and “you can’t change people, you can only change yourself.” I was taught better ways to communicate with my mom, although I’ve struggled and even still struggle with using what I have learned. Even in the present I’m still learning how to have healthier communication overall in my life. The relationships I have had over the years have been so dysfunctional that I have literally lost myself in them as a result. These days I try to remind myself that I have the ability to spot relationships and to make better choices when considering whether or not I should keep others company or not. I learned the types of roles I played in the family such as the “Scapegoat” and “Care Taker”. I realize now looking back that I spent much of my time in my romantic relationships being the one who was doing almost everything to keep the relationship afloat. I was first introduced to the idea of recovery from alcohol and drugs at such a young age because of my mom’s great health insurance after I overdosed. Due to the fact that my siblings were much older than me her insurance did not cover them for this type of kind of treatment.After I completed Rehab at both Scotia and Minnesota I returned home. Little did I know that the worst of my addiction was would catch up with me.I managed to graduate high school in 1990, but during that year I relapsed with one of my friends from Rehab. When I visited her I decided to take a trip to Long Island with another friend of mine from upstate. Her family lived in the city, so we went our separate ways. I took the subway to Hicksville and was picked up by my girlfriend’s mom. I spent like three or four days at her house. I got trashed at Jones Beach, and went to the Rocky Horror Picture show and road around the city with my girlfriend’s fiancé’s brother in his girlfriend’s Corvette. I didn’t know that he was engaged at the time, but we ended up doing things I’m not too proud of in his girlfriend’s car. Just another reason for me to stay quit as I look back on how alcohol impacted my life. After all, my year of sobriety as well as my morals and values went down the drain in almost two seconds flat all because of the purchase of a bottle of Sambuca. Chapter VIAddictionsWhen I was in Rehab I did learn a lot about recovery through others but later in life I never did apply much of it to myself although it was always in the back of my mind. A year of sobriety really wasn’t that long of time to see the rewards of not drinking or using any kind of substance for that matter. It really did take a tragedy for me to see what my addiction had done to me, especially my impulsive lifestyle. I was definitely one of those people who when I got a wild hair up my but I always did something off the wall when I was cocked.Even though I went through rehabilitation I still ended up relapsing. I used the biggest excuse that most people do. “Everybody else uses drugs and alcohol so why can’t I”. This attitude of addiction did not fully occur until after I moved to Denver, Colorado with my boyfriend who was a native to the state. He used marijuana on a regular and tried his hardest to hide it from me by using everything from cologne to sunglasses and of course eye drops to get rid of the redness that occurs when you smoke. His excuse I learned later on was that because his back was in so much pain the state Colorado allows you to use pot as a form of “medication” if prescribed by a doctor. He and I started dating when I was in high school. I didn’t move to Denver, Colorado with him and his sister until after I graduated in 1990. In 2003 I went into psychosis. Around that time I learned about my ex- boyfriend’s sister being institutionalized. I too had been put in a forensic hospital and given the verdict of the 330.20 plea. I learned that her instant offense was that of a hit and run while under the influence of drugs (heroine was her drug of choice) and alcohol. I myself had been stalked out of Denver, CO. and became very sick and ended up stabbing someone I didn’t even know. I was suffering from PTSD as a result of going through so much physical and mental abuse that I couldn’t sleep and became very delusional. I ended up homeless and spent my time jumping around the city of Denver, CO. from one friend’s house to the next until I finally was able to cash my college check. Surprisingly enough I had made it through the semester with decent grades and took out more student loans and received my last grants which helped me to continue my education. I used the money to pay my new roommate rent. Looking back it was a really impulsive move when I decided to find someone to live with who had an ad in the paper in the section for roommates. At the time I was already beginning to suffer from paranoia, because there were so many people within the circle of my friends that knew one-another. So many that it was scary. I had a lot of friends from foreign countries. Due to the fact that there were 13,000 students on campus I had made many acquaintances as well as friends over about a five year period. This caused me to have an incredible amount of stress in my life and I gave up my education and decided to move home. It wasn’t until the year 2005 that I learned my ex-boyfriend’s sister was institutionalized out west. It was while I was at a facility in Marcy, N.Y. being treated for Mental Illness I learned that she had died from AID’s. Poem VIIA Eulogy to an AddictGod had a way of testing your faithAnd the devil caused you to fumble withTemptation As each dealer, each bartender, each liquor store Sold you their drugs so you could get high;Your remedies for your withdrawals wereLike candies are to a diabetic;One piece wasn’t enough to cure the cravings andI’m sure some days you wanted to die,And although you paid the ultimate price;Your death instead of a future on earth or Your chance to hold someone tightI can honestly say that if you had recovered fromYour addiction you’d have been an inspiration And would have helped others to see the light.As for those of us who knew you most,We burn a candle and thank the lord that you’re Watching over us tonightAnd we’ll always know with-in our Hearts and souls That you made it to the other side;That you passed God’s final test andso He granted you wings so you could fly…for he made you an angel in heaven; Giving you a place to residewhile granting you the greatest gift of all,the gift of eternal life. Today I still think of my ex-boyfriend, but I don’t know where he resides. I can only hope that like me he has learned from his sister’s death. As for me I’ve learned not only from her death but from being institutionalized that my freedom means more to me than any can of beer or bottle of wine.Through my own experiences I have learned there isn’t anything cool about putting myself or anyone else in harm’s way just because I think I can control how often I consume mind altering substances. If only alcoholics and drug addicts came to this conclusion instead of thinking they can control their use. It’s the first step that most of us battle with for various reasons. This is why A/A is a great place to re-discover yourself through other people for if you attend meetings on a regular you’re bound to find something that you can relate to when you hear stories told by elders and even the younger generation. Over the past eleven years of not drinking I have found that my education on staying clean and sober has rubbed off on many others just as they have rubbed off on me. One thing is for sure and that is for many a twelve step program works if you work it. Addiction works by ridding yourself of pain sorrow and guilt through a bottle of your favorite beer or wine but its only temporary. I guarantee that even though it helps you to escape it will leave you standing alone with more consequences then you originally had, such as no money, no self-esteem and worse yet spiritually broke. More importantly anyone who has admitted to the first step knows that it will be a cold day in hell before they’re able to control their addiction. The consequences happen so quickly sometimes that an addict can lose track of everything once they become dis-inhibited. From my own life experiences, when you relapse you lose a lot including your friends and family, but more importantly you lose yourself. Those of us who have battled denial know that there was nothing to gain from our addiction(s), but a false sense of security and pride along with a huge amount of emotional pain that hits you like a ton of bricks when you finally get sober. At this point in my life I can vouch for the pain that drugs and alcohol can cause in a person’s life including how it affects their family. It damages your mind, body and spirit. This I’ve learned over the years for I have had a lot of time (approximately eleven years) to think about the choices I made and which one’s caused me to be where I am today. Nowadays I’m much more happy to be alive, and more importantly I’m glad that my victim survived. No words can explain the horror that went through my mind the day that I committed my instant offence in the little city of Oneonta, N.Y. which was in the area where I grew up. I actually grew up on the other side of Oneonta mountain in a smaller town called Meridale, N.Y.. My case was on the front page of the newspaper. Poem VIIIFood Stamps and Government ChecksEvery first day of the monthclients wait for their food stampsand their government checks to arrive;so they can shop ‘til they dropat every dollar store that they can find.the money runs out thoughleaving them only with a dime;and a bag full of empty soda cansworth a nickel every time,But if they want to recycleto get a little money backthey’ll have to wait on line.and we mustn’t forget the benefitsOf SSD and SSI,that hardly cover the bills or the bare necessities of life.Then there are those of us without a support networkThat lack the money we need to survive;Many of us blame it on the politicianswho don’t take time out to realize,that it’s because of all their budget cuts that people are losing their jobs and their lives.Before my instant offence happened I hadn’t slept in days and was hearing voices that I mistook for having telepathy. Before this happened I received help from Medicaid and Medicare because I was diagnosed with a mental illness. I really believed in the voices which told me that I wasn’t allowed to speak of them or else I’d be murdered. The end result was my instant offence. One of the biggest contributors to my stress level and low self esteem before my instant offense was having to receive help from the United States government which I found very humiliating because I had never had to depend on something I felt was so degrading because of the way many people treat you when they find out you’re receiving it. After I committed my instant offense it took me a long time before I was institutionalized. This happened because I was found incompetent to stand trial. When I finally was told the number of years I would be sentenced to prison my mom went looking for help because she knew her little girl would never do what she had done in my right state of mind. I was than given the 330.20 plea which means I was considered not guilty due to mental health of defect. Later I learned that medicine could help the voices to subside. It wasexplained to me by one of my Doctors that, due to all the stress that I had endured while I had attended college, plus being stalked by two men while trying to finish out the semester and using synthetic drugs (Crystal Meth) that I had smoked with some “friends” caused me to have a mental breakdown. The end result was that my mind needed help controlling my serotonin and dopamine levels. There was also a possibility of a genealogical make-up that could have been triggered by the amount of stress that I was under which is the main reason the doctors felt that I became mentally ill. One thing that is never mentioned in my records is how afraid I was to be alone and how fearful I was for my life after being stalked by my ex-boyfriend who was from Westminster, Colorado. My instant offence took place after I went home to New York fromColorado. Before I committed it I had taken an eight month detour tostay with friends in Baltimore, Maryland only to return to Meridale,N.Y. The reason I left Baltimore, Maryland was because I thought myfriends were creating a plan to kill me. I was so scared that peoplewere out to kill me that I continued to have flash backs for severalyears while institutionalized. Today I still have thoughts but they do not control the way I think or function but if I find myself wallowing tomuch in the past I try to use some techniques that I have learned ingroups and therapy to relax my mind in an effort to think of pleasant thoughts. I also enjoy using Coping Skills such as writing poetry or even this book to let others know that they too can survive their owntragedies in life. One thing I’ve learned to do most is to forgive and it’s been the hardest out of all the things I’ve had to do. Not only to forgive others but also to forgive myself. It was on September 4, 2014 (the day before the anniversary of my Instant Offense) that I realized that I had been sober for eleven years. Ever since I stopped drinking it has enabled me to look at the things I need to change in terms of the way I view people, life and of course my own self. I have made a lot of progress emotionally although I had a setback when my dad died in the year 2010 while locked up in a forensic hospital located in New Hampton, N.Y. I’ve dealt with a lot of anger issues and being sad often haunts me for I have lost so many years of being with my family due to many of the choices I made in life, especially the use of drugs. Addiction is truly a hard thing to battle but by being sober it has helped me to maintain a balance in life. I pray that I will stay in control of my addictive personality by not allowing it to ruin any parts of my life. My goal is to achieve a balance by incorporating the better parts of my life into my everyday living, for example thanking God that I can still use my brain and that it can function like it should. Poem IXGod Sent Me an AngelIf you are addicted to drugs and alcohol then you know how they lead you down a road of guilt and shame.Personally I feel that they not only polluted my blood but played a huge part in ruining my brain.Many times I have often wondered, “Why?”“Why did God send me an Angel?”My only guess is that,He didn’t want me to die,and it was when I knew I was in needthat I asked God to give me the hope, strength, and courage to battle my addiction;an addiction that had made me too blind to see;that was when I learned how quicklythat alcohol, pot and pills,could easily contribute to the reasons why a person can become Mentally Ill.To put it plain and simple, God helped me to escape,when Satincame to burn my soul, and steal my faith. I must say that 12 years has been the most sobriety time this woman has ever had, which is a real feeling of accomplishment. Although it hasn’t been a bowl full of cherries I have managed to persevere with the help of some good Clinicians and staff who have helped me through a lot of pain. At Civil I’ve met quite a few sponsors which I have called upon when I’ve needed them. I have a few really close friends that I have managed to keep in touch with over the years and whom I’ve also met while living in both forensic and civil hospitals. The people who have been the biggest backbones of my recovery however, have been my Advocate, Bob, my mom, Virginia, my sister Bonnie and of course the Great Creator or God (or whatever you choose to call your higher power) who I believe has protected me over all the years that I’ve lived so dangerously. One thing is for sure is that I have definitely learned that having a solid support network is crucial in a person’s recovery. Over the years I’ve seen many people go without visits for months and some for years. It’s truly sad to see a life go to waste. I say this for I’ve met many people who have decided never to talk about their instant offence because it’s so painful. There are others that have been institutionalized for ten or eleven years and are still considered not competent enough to stand trial. That’s the worst to see. Especially when you know there’s nothing you can do to help them. As for myself I have begun plugging away at re-entering the real world. It may be tough I know, yet I can’t help but feel like it’s time for me to fly. It’s only been over the last few years that people are beginning to be educated in society when it comes to mental illness. It is crucial in this day and age for people to understand Mental Illness and Dual Diagnosis for people suffer from it in today’s world more than is being recognized. For whatever reason I hope this is not just a trend that the United States is going through. I pray we continue to spend time helping the sick and still suffering as they say in many twelve step programs. Recovery groups can help us talk about our Addictions and whatever Mental Illness we suffer from. Admitting you need help and seeking it out is the first step to recovery so don’t hesitate to attend a program of your choice and shop around until you find a group your comfortable with. Find yourself a sponsor and get as many numbers as you can at the meetings you attend. Think of it as treating a virus with a flu shot. Your building up an immunity system to fight your addiction. These are the things I’ve been taught since being institutionalized. I myself plan on attending as many meetings as I can fit in my schedule without going overboard for my stress level is something I have to be aware of or else I may very well decompensate. All in all my recovery at this stage in my life feels good. I’m truly begun to feel comfortable in my own skin and with who I have become.Chapter VIIPiecing Together My Last Days in Denver, ColoradoDenver, Colorado had been my stomping grounds for almost ten years at the time I began having problems with the people I knew which was in the last year specifically 1999-2000. The city of Denver for starters not only had to deal with Y2K but they also had a nasty shooting at a high school located not far from where I lived. As a matter of fact one of the older gentlemen I was living with at the time worked for Dominoes and was known to deliver pizzas for large parties that the high school was known to throw. Next I was stalked out of Denver, Colorado by several people who I thought were “friends” but the two that caused me the most grief was my ex-boyfriend from Westminster, CO. whom I think I mentioned before and later a roommate I lived with in Englewood, CO. I not only was stalked by these two men but for a lack of better words I was “mind fucked”. I did manage to put permanent restraining orders on both men before I left Colorado around the end of the college semester which was in May of 1999. The dates of the restraining orders also show that I dropped out of college at the same time I was being harassed by these two men. Other things that might not be considered coincidences when I think about when I was stalked: My ex-boyfriend that I originally moved from New York to Colorado with introduced me to a mechanic that I learned knew a friend of mine that was a drug dealer. The mechanic had a car for sale and my ex asked me if I’d be interested in looking at it. The first thing I thought was someone turned my friend in for dealing and she thinks it’s me. The car that was sold to me was a Ford Taurus and a lemon. There was so much wrong with this car it was amazing that I didn’t die while driving it, after all most people that know anything about cars know that FORD stands for “Found on Road Dead”. My ex-boyfriend who I knew from N.Y. and that I had originally moved to Colorado with had suggested that I buy the Ford Taurus which I realized later was a way of mind fucking me because he knew that we use to argue about him and I not getting along because he was a Taurus and I was an Aquarius. I say he knew this and knowingly convinced me to buy the car as a way of getting back at me for talking shit behind his back about our past relationship to a friend I went to college with that I later found out he knew in his childhood. Not good. While living with this same ex-boyfriend from Denver I learned that he and his sister had a father that stalked their mother. They even had a tape recording of him harassing her to the point that there grandfather took the call and threatened their father with the authorities. When I arrived in New York at my mother’s house after driving across the United States of America with my new roommate and boyfriend who was from Wallingford, Connecticut it was on Cinco de Mayo which is known as the war between the United States and Mexico or also known when Mexico declared its Independence from the U.S.A. . He wanted very little to do with me after I returned home which broke my heart even more then the fact that he took off with all my belongings. When we left Colorado to go to New York he made the statement that “once we got on the east coast the game would be his” or something to that extent. I later visited him in Conn. and found out his friends were bikers. My roommate from Englewood that stalked me had written me a note on Christmas Eve that had a candy cane attached to it. It read, “Your mother called and by the way I’m in love with you”. He had also destroyed my friendships while I was visiting family in N.Y. around the fourth of July in 1999 by answering my phone and telling my friends my personal thoughts about them. I had my radiator house slit twice.Someone put my emergency brake on without me knowing it so I was driving around the city until my drums ended up wearing thin. I had my car broken into while I was living at 1330 Uinta the last place I resided at before leaving Colorado.Before I moved into 1330 Uinta on the east side of Denver, Colorado I had to do a Civil Assist in order to get my belongings back, because the guy I had been rooming with in Englewood had changed the locks on his door. The crazy part about him is that when we went camping one time together he told me about his last girlfriend who had admitted herself into a Psych Hospital. Worse yet he told me that whenever he went to visit her she would refuse to see him. Poem XBlack Eyed Suzie He loves me, he loves me not,That’s what Black Eyed Suzie says Whenever she talks about her fat lipand her blackened eye.Nowadays she doesn’t know what to think she’s been knocked around so many times.If you were to ask her if he loves herBlack Eyed Suzie has been known to reply,“He loves me, He loves me not”,but she doesn’t really know the reason why,because he’s picked her self-esteem away slowly;One petal at a time;Leaving her devastated, and ruining her pride.Next she began to exhibit untreated symptoms caused by insomnia; Her remedy?A bottle of wine.Then there were the Holidays spent abused and bruised;Unable to hide her fat lip and her blackened eye;It wasn’t until Christmas Eve, when he’d nearly broken her neckthat she began to realize;That he’d done nothing,but beat and cheat on heruntil all she could do was cry.Finally she came to the conclusion,that her life was one big mistake,she had been living a lie.She began to ask herself questions, like,“Why does he insult my intelligence? along with my mind?” Then there were other times When she was seen leaving her jobOn campus,sobbing,with her fat lip and her blackened eye.There was nothing that her friends could say or do except sit idly by;As he destroyed her lifeWith a blink of her blackened eye.It was when she finally decided to leavethat he revealed his rabid side;By following her all over the city;Wherever he thought she might reside.It was then that Black Eyed Suzie asked the police for help,in them she knew she could confide. She explained to them and the judge,“He’s been stalking me and that’s a crime!” “This time sorry doesn’t cut it,”she told the authorities asshe signed the restraining orders on the dotted line.“I’m sick and tired of his countless apologiesbecause I’ve learned that they’re just another one of his pathological lies.”“I know he says he loves me,” she told the Police Officer,“But his rap sheet proves that he’s the abusive kind.” Unable to escape the fact that he was following herShe decided to return to New York with an angel by her side.She left the bright lights of Denver behind herbut as for her hopes and her dreams she brought them along for the ride.Thirteen-hundred miles she drove In a moving truck until she reached her mother’s housewhere she parked by the roadside.Safe and sound she thought,but the damage had already been done to her mind.Many years later…After she’d finally received treatment,She decided the moment had arrived,For her to share her courage,about how she had survived.She wrote her story down,In detail;Each sentence using reasonalong with rhyme.It was if God was sending her a message,an omen;Yes He was giving her a sign.A sign that things will get better,but until then,She’ll kiss it up to God,And leave it all behind.To summarize my last year of living in Denver, Colorado is pretty simple for me. It was a living hell and when I returned home it didn’t get much better. The point of this chapter is to open people’s minds to the problems that occur when you choose the wrong kinds of relationships. Geographically re-locating to another state doesn’t exactly mean that your addictions will change or that your Co-Dependency issues will go away. In fact, many times it makes it ten times worse. Chapter VIIICo-DependencyRelationships as most of us know were never meant to be easy. As a matter of fact sometimes they have a way of sucking you dry emotionally, physically, and mentally. Especially if both people bring their individual garbage into the relationship and are not willing to get counseling to try to at least learn how to compromise with their partner. I spent three years with a young man I knew in Colorado that totally abused me. From this relationship, I learned from my own experience, that it isn’t until you leave a man that they realize what they were missing out on when considering all the attention they were getting. For some men it takes their woman to leave before they realize that they even needed their woman around in the first place. At the same time it isn’t until a woman leaves her man that she begins to realize how little she was getting from the relationship and how much she was giving in order to make the relationship work. It’s taken me a long time to admit that I’m Co-Dependent with the help of a few Social Workers that have guided me in the right direction without giving me the answers to my own character flaws.In one of the relationships I was in I never knew when he was going to become violent. Sometimes he was under the influence when he would become angry and other times it was what I now know as transferring your emotions or displacement. For example a person gets mad at somebody but they end up taking it out on the nearest person next to them and of course usually that person doesn’t know what happened to make the other person so upset with them. For example, when my ex-boyfriend through me into a brick mantle fire place after he found out about the death of his mother which took place around Thanksgiving. It wouldn’t be until Christmas Eve however, that his anger would become very prevalent because of her death. The whole family ended up getting obliterated on alcohol including myself. He and I went to get drunk with his father at a bar that his father frequented a lot. This was our way of coping. My ex-fiancé later took me home and then left to go back to the bar to be with his dad for the rest of the evening. I became worried about not only my car but if he was going to make it home alive. I sat around all evening with a friend of mine who was warning me about my car being wrecked. Many times he had driven us home together. I became worried because I knew how badly he drank when he was happy but I didn’t even want to imagine how bad he would drink and drive after he found out about his mother’s death. Especially because we were told that the coroners felt she had committed suicide by overdosing on her pills. Later the coroners came to the conclusion according to his dad that she took pills that were not supposed to be taken together. At around closing time I called the bar to ask him to bring his ass home with my car because I felt something terrible was going to happen. He came home alright. We ended up in an argument that night as soon as he arrived. My friend was scared so she left me there alone. I then ended up having the phone thrown at me. I ducked and it hit the sliding glass door behind me which shattered as a result. He then began talking about his mother and said with a sly remark, “Who knows, maybe Christmas will be better this year”. I then told him something to the extent that,“ It wasn’t me who said it”. He then through me into our brick fire place and broke my wicker chair over my back. I had to beg him to take me to the hospital. From this experience I’ve learned the worst red flags of any relationship I’ve ever been in. Co-Dependency is something that should be taken very seriously especially if it is something that runs in your family for many times it boils down to behaviors that are learned and then taught by us. In conclusion, if you are made subject to Co-Dependency, you become Co-dependent and the cycle will continue if you don’t initiate whatever it takes to break this mal-adaptive way of living. Poem XIHappiness is What We Believe InHappiness is important because it comes from deep within,and is what many of us would like to believe in.Unfortunately there will always be problems in life to solveFor man’s world is filled with war and chaos; something only God can resolve.Many of us would like to help save mankind,but we must wait patiently for God to give us a sign. For our future is truly in His handshelping us to do His will whenever we canand as each day goes by and we grow oldlet us remind ourselves that happiness is good for the heart and soul.This is why as humans we must find a way to share our happiness each and everydaybecause happiness can be achieved, even in times of despairso take time out to show someone you care; for happiness is better than feeling downso if you can, try to smile instead of frown.Chapter IXMy Road to RecoveryIt’s been a long one, but my road to recovery has taught me much about myself and the difficulties within the system of hospitals and health care. Over the years I have learned that most hospitals do not always take time out because they’re understaffed making it so they can’t provide clients with adequate services such as therapy. It was while I was institutionalized that I literally had to beg for help in order to receive therapy for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for I knew I needed to process what went wrong before I committed my Instant Offense. The other thing that I had sought help with in therapy was the many tragic anniversary dates that without a doubt had contributed to me becoming severely mentally ill. I believe this to be true because of the physical and psychological abuse I received while living in the city of Denver, CO. The abuse I received from my ex- boyfriend had definitely contributed to my depression and therefore I began to self medicate with all kinds of substances almost every day. Ever since I’ve experienced New York State’s hospitals and institutions within the system of SSI and SSD I have come to realize that their are many people who suffer from mental illnesses, including people who are from foreign countries that can barely speak English. In the rooms I’ve listened to other’s stories and have shared my own which has helped me to heal. Thanks to the people I’ve met in the rooms I no longer feel alone in my recovery. To help myself heal I have written poem after poem about traumas that I have endured. In addition, I have written poems about other’s who have felt comfortable enough to share with me there experience, strength and hope. As a result I have another book that is titled Poetry; A Way to Heal. It has over seventy poems that I myself have wrote over my entire life span. I’d like to mention that my closest friends along with some great Clinicians and MHTA’s (Mental Health Therapy Aids) have played a key role in helping me to overcome and cope with my mental illness. Furthermore, over the years I’ve had the opportunity to reacquaint myself with my family some of which were very disappointed in me before and after I committed my Instant Offense. For example, my eldest brother felt I was lazy. Either he didn’t realize or he was in denial about the fact that I was going through a difficult time. Instead of accepting that I was sick mentally and needed to be somewhere where I felt safe he blamed me for things that were completely out of my control do to my psychosis. Over the years I have recovered from a lot of things, mainly through the grace of God. I have not only attended many therapy sessions, I have actually attended many groups which have enabled me to learn techniques that will help me to cope with my mental illness and substance abuse now and throughout the rest of my life. I’m finally taking a decent regiment of medication that works, even though I feel over medicated at times because I sleep a lot. I attend twelve step meetings which is also a huge part of my recovery for I am dually diagnosed. I have made major changes in my life to remain sober, something that is crucial to succeed for someone like myself who has been a major alcoholic and drug user. Some examples of this are that I no longer smoke cigarettes and haven’t for the better part of ten years. Unfortunately I lost my father to cancer and one of my best friends to COPD (Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease) since being institutionalized. I have learned to persevere over many challenges in my life by identifying my early warning signs, triggers and the coping skills for I need them when I feel myself becoming symptomatic. I have learned to report even the slightest changes to all members of my support network in an effort to mitigate any chances of further harm done to myself and more importantly to anyone else. I am well aware of the fact that food can be a way of self-medicating and at times I rationalize what I eat by saying to myself, “Well at least I’m not drinking or doing any synthetic drugs”. This is an early warning sign for it is part of the acronym known as “HALT” which I’ve used in the past after Rehab and in the present. It is a tool used to identify the signs of relapse. It stands for Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired. When I close my eyes at night, I realize that despite what I’ve endured my life isn’t so bad. It has been due to all the tears I’ve shared with my therapist, my peers in the rooms, and in group therapy. The processes of healing takes time . The time I’ve put into my recovery has finally helped me to find some kind of inner peace. When all is said and done I forgave myself mainly because I know I never meant to hurt anyone. As a matter of fact I’ve asked the good Lord for forgiveness many times for my sins in hopes that I will be granted another chance at freedom. I can only hope that my prayers for the young boy that I hurt touch the very essence of his heart for I never would have done what I did in my right state of mind. I know this is very hard for some individuals to believe or comprehend, but in all reality in order to understand mental illness fully you would need to have lived on both sides of the fence. If you or someone you love has experienced being institutionalized then you have realized by now you wouldn’t wish mental illness or any kind of addiction to substances on your worst enemy. These two things apart from one another or combined can be lethal for they have the capability of hurting more people than just yourself and those closest to you. When I lost my dad to cancer and my cousin to diabetes while institutionalized, I had to learn to overcome the loss by going through the grieving process without drugs and alcohol. Thanks to a few great clinicians, my mom, my sister and my Advocate, Bob, I made it through the loss of my dad. They reminded me over and over that my dad was no longer suffering. I’ll never forget visiting him in handcuffs on his death bed. I loved my daddy more than anything in this world and I miss him greatly. He was a recovering alcoholic himself. It was because of my dad and cousin’s death that I learned how to let go of the one’s I love. I realized that I truly needed some kind of higher power or entity; someone that I knew I could turn to in order to deal with my loss. I still have my days when I’m angry that my father and cousin died while I was receiving treatment for my mental illness. What was really sad was that my father only had the chance to visit me once during the time I was institutionalized. In his last days, I had a few short conversations with him on the phone where he gave me the name to many country western songs for me to listen to. The one that sticks out in my mind the most is a song called “To Old to Die Young”. Today I see his presence everywhere and I hold the few memories we shared dear to my heart. My father’s last words to me while on his death bed were, “Do what you got to do Gina” and it was when our visit ended that he tried to teach me how to play the “G” chord on his guitar. In my eyes and in the eyes of many, my father was a great man. Unfortunately he died, for the the Maker decided it was his time. As I mentioned before I miss him; especially talking with him on the phone. He was seventy-four years old when he died and his full name was Clayton Claude Misner. To this day I myself consider the legend of my father as one that will live on forever and ever for he was truly was one of the last Cowboys that ever lived in this century.As for my mother, my sister and the rest of the family? They have inspired me to continue to make changes to my life and to learn from not only the mistakes I’ve made, but the mistakes other alcoholics make.Poem XII My SpiritWhile I was dying I saw myself,Transcending,into an eternal light.Then, as I took my last breadth my spirit was released,to a place far beyond the darkness that creates night.For its within the realms of heaven that true beauty shines so bright,and if you were here you’d see for yourselfthat my spirit is doing alright.Now you may not know it but,I’m like a feather, floating,freely in the wind,and if I could I’d manifest myself,so you could witness all the places that I’ve been;For I have followed God’s angelsto my journey’s endwhere patiently I wait to be with you again.Chapter XTo My Fellow PeersThis chapter is comprised of a lot of sadness combined with many moments of joy that only people who have had to experience being in prisons, institutions or civil hospitals are able to comprehend. I say this because I have seen the faces of many who are left with no hope and a sense of loss that tears away at their very souls. It’s not an easy thing for those who have been part of what is called the 330.20 process, because we are looked upon many times as killers and “crazy lunatics”. What people don’t realize is that many of us were victims of horrific environments that were very abusive. I learned through something called Rational Emotive Therapy that many times it’s the way we were influenced to think (especially impulsively) that caused us to make such poor decisions in our lives. Some of us may even have a criminal way of thinking because of growing up in bad neighborhoods where we had to fin for ourselves in order to survive. This mentality takes years to undo.A special shout out to a very close woman. I’m very proud of this person because of all her accomplishments and I hope she strives for the best she can possible be. As for the rest of everyone I have met, remember were not only victims, we are also survivors which is the most important of the two.Poem XIIIPrisons and InstitutionsHave you ever visited someone in a prison or an institution that you know? Or did you ever spend time just talking with them on the phone? If you haven’t, then ask yourself, “What do people in prisons and institutions do every day”?Do you realize it’s just another day for them to pray?Have you ever lived in such a horrible place?Hoping that someone would dry the tears running down your face?If you have then you know the pain I’ve felt all the time, because no one even cared enough to drop me a line?Think about it. How would you feel if all you wanted was to be free?You too would be like a mole, that’s too blind to see;Always looking for a hole where you can hide;While your ears focus on the sounds of the outside.Would you lie on your bed and weep?Hoping to fall asleep?Until you hear the sound of a voice; Reminding you that you have no choicebut to rise and shine on commandfor your life consists of nothing but demandsleaving you wanting to rid yourself of the monkey on your backwhile wishing the doctors would cut you some slackfor in prisons and institutions there are major trials and tribulationsthat seem almost unbearable to overcome with hope and determination,and then there are the times when you feel like you can’t go on, but you have to remember that you have no choice but to be strongand when you feel like you’ve lost all your pridetake it from me, never ever let them see you cry!This poem is dedicated to all those people who have been unfortunate enough to have lived such a life.In my opinion there is a need for kids and parents around the world to be educated about mental illness long before they are prescribed any kind of medication. They need to be educated first about early warning signs and symptoms. Both parents and their kids need to know that there are places they can seek help if it means they will hurt themselves or someone else because that is how serious mental illness needs to be taken. I think if people stop trying to hide their mental defects they will be more likely to admit that they need help psychologically long before something devastating happens. It would be helpful if society could be more aware of the fact that the mentally ill suffer greatly (some are even dually diagnosed) stigmatized and making them not accepted as part of the “norm”. If only the world could understand the importance of having more education available to people in society. This awareness is crucial in order to solve the problem of people constantly going in and out of hospitals because they’re not managing their recovery correctly.I dedicate this chapter to many friends that I have met on my journey of being institutionalized starting at the County Jail that took mercy on my soul. As for Marcy, New York; Thank you very much from Gregarious Gina. I’d like to thank the forensic facility I resided at for seven years located in New Hampton, New York; I hope to see you all one day even if it’s only on a visit. Last but not least the people here at Albany’s civil hospital; Thanks for giving me opportunities to share my experience, strength and hope. To continue, I hope to one day leave this facility and make something of myself as an entrepreneur. Currently I’m trying very hard to create a website for myself and the many people in the world who have mental challenges: HYPERLINK "" My long term goal is to make this website available to display works of arts, crafts, and writings or anything else a person with mental illness can create in an effort to promote their own trade once they have re-entered society.Chapter XIA Dedication to My FamilyNow some of you may doubt your family. I’m here to tell you that sometimes families are all a person has got in this great big world whether it’s by blood, through adoption or by choice. In my experience many times you see people in facilities like the ones I’ve been in relying on one another as if they knew each other all their lives. This is because many of us that have been kept from our families for many years start to create our own families within the system. If there is one thing you must try to do when you’re mentally ill it is to rely on supports that you’ve hopefully put into place for yourself. Supports are something everyone needs to depend on for we all need someone to lean on at times. Other things that help keep a person healthy are good eating habits, going to programs and therapy and most importantly taking medications everyday as prescribed and a good nights sleep.As for myself, I am very fortunate for I almost lost everything due to my own mistakes. How’s the old saying go? You made your own bed, so lay in it! It’s been a long time since I was admitted into the system. Today I’m looking at getting a possible furlough so I can walk on the state property with an escort. This helps me to feel like I’m finally getting somewhere in my recovery. Another part of my journey is to hopefully reunite with the rest of my family who from time to time cared enough to take my calls. I have missed each and every one of them more than they’ll ever know. I pray that no one in my family ever has to endure the humility of being “locked away” for it has definitely been a horrible experience, one that I can honestly say I’ve learned a lot from. Thanks to all my friends in the rooms and a little pill called Chantix I have no interest of ever smoking cigarettes. This is true for pot also. Drinking is not on my list of priorities either although I know I have the potential for messing up my life by indulging in such substances because of my past experiences. Every day I try to keep my head screwed on right in an effort to fight the disease of addiction. Over the years I have spent a lot of time thinking about what I’d like to do with my family including my aunts, uncles and cousins should I ever get to see them again. I don’t want a fancy party. Instead I would like a casual barbeque with some shish kabob and clams on the half shell in honor of my dear old dad and all the times I wished I could have spent with him by the Susquehanna River which was his back yard for most of his life.I look forward to hugging everybody and I’m sure that the tear drops will fall, however I hope it will be on a sunny day. The children will be the ones that will touch my heart the most and have been one of the many reasons I have chosen to change my way of living to one that they can be proud of. I even have a great nephew who is my niece’s son that I’ve never even laid eyes on accept in pictures. While in New Hampton I wrote and sent the following poem to each of my nieces and nephews. In case you’re wondering, I have three nieces and three nephews as well as my great nephew whom I’ve already mentioned.Poem XIVMy AdviceI was just sitting here thinking about my past,and wishing I’d never left home.back than your were only a baby and I was just a kid myself;about seventeen or so.No words can express how sorry I amfor missing out on so muchso I’m taking the time to let you knowthat I wish I could turn back the hands of time but I can’t,and that’s just the way things sometimes go.I’d like to share with you a thing or two about life however,and that is,if you let it,it can lead you down a rocky road,and because there are no guarantees of your success,it’s important that you cling to your dreams,even when you’re growing old.I’d also like to give you some advice,which is to think before you re-act,‘cause it’s the consequences that will keep you from reaching your goals,and try not to predict the futurefor tomorrow is a mysteryso take things nice and slow.What I’m trying to say is,don’t hurry when making decisions‘cause trust me your mistakes are all your own,and if by chance you become confused just remember to ask for help,‘cause you’re never really alone,and even though I can’t be there with you,I hope you get some comfort and relief via the words of this poem,when I tell you how proud I am of your accomplishments and how beautifullyyou have grown.Chapter XIIThank YouI would like to take time out to dedicate this book to many people who are mentally ill for I haven’t been able to document them all. The people I knew on wards 23/24 in the forensics hospital I was at for seven years. I thank my therapist at New Hampton’s forensic hospital who spent a lot of time nurturing me back to a healthy way of thinking. I’d also like to mention all the people I’ve met on Unit E and Unit K’s hospital in Albany, New York. That includes the staff, clinicians, and clients and especially those who have taken the time out to listen to my story; the Interns. A special thank you to all the Albany instructors of my Occupational Therapy Groups and Recreational Groups for lending an ear and showing me a better way to cope instead of stressing out or perseverating on my past.Recently I have been contacted through a ton and a half of e-mails by my high school friends. God bless my friends in Baltimore, Maryland for all their love and compassion even before I was institutionalized. It was when I lived in Baltimore, Maryland that I stayed with my best friend’s family. They supported me until I admitted myself into one of the best hospitals in the country at that time. The only requirement when I stayed with them was to someday give back freely to someone else what they had freely given to me; another chance at starting over. Poem XVThe Love Between FriendsWhen we were just kids ??????you and I were like two peas in a pod, ??????at times we were envious of one another ??????not understanding, that we were all children of God. ????????????Then there were the teenage years, ??????which were hard for us all; ??????our little lives filled with our first obstacles; ??????some big and some small, ????????????yet our friendship continued to grow ??????until each of us went our separate ways, ??????taking with us the memories ??????that each of us hoped would never fade;?????then came the years of experience; ??????that some of us will often regret ??????and yet others ??????will never forget, ????????????but now that we’re older and wiser let us come together ??????so we can rekindle the love that exists between friends ??????not only now but in the future,??????forever and ever, ??????AMEN. After my instant offense it took me a long time to trust anyone and for anyone to trust me. I now have a facebook account that helps me keep in touch with a lot of my friends. I pray that if any people try to contact me in the past from any part of Colorado that they do so in a peaceful manner and forget about the past as I have forgiven those who did me wrong. Although it took me a long time to forgive others it took equally as long for me to forgive myself after my instant offense for my victim had nothing to do with what happened to me out west. I have no real interest in keeping in contact with anyone from Colorado during this stage of my life accept my professors who knew I was a good student. Poem XVIWhile We’re ApartEven though you’re there And I’m hereNothing can tear us apart,For God created us asSoul-mates Since the very start,therefore,you never have to doubt my intentionsfor you truly have my heart,which beats rapidlywhenever I’m near you,but aches while we’re apart.Chapter XIIIIn Hindsight I’ll never forget when I drove out of sight on a cold November’s night (some twenty – six years ago) leaving everything and everyone I knew behind. Little did I know how tragic my life would turn out, but I’ve learned that everyone has their own journey and that we all must play the cards we’re dealt. My journey has cost me a lot, however, I believe my time hasn't been spent carelessly. I say this because I have finally quit playing around and I am ready to settle down. No more beers, no more pot, no more tantrums if I don’t get what I want. I’ve grown up ever since I was put in different hospitals. It’s helped me in many ways as a person and the best part is that I’m proud to say that I am one of God’s children despite the fact that I screwed up my life. I now feel God’s love for me and I believe he has a plan for me. Most importantly, I thank Him for taking pity on me and allowing me to live to tell about my story, for I hope and pray that there will come a day when I will join Him in heaven, but until than I will enjoy whatever journey he has chosen for me. Poem XVIIWings So I can Fly?The doctor gave me some good news today.He said,????" Even though you're dangerously mentally ill?????? you're getting better ???????with the help of therapy???????and the right combination of pills."?My recovery hasn't been easy though,instead it's been full of ups and downs.Never the less,I can honestly say that God has given?me???????????????????????????????????????????????????both the strength and courageto turn my life around,and even though most days I feel like I've been institutionalized,or that my life?is a living hell;I still keep wishing and hoping that the doctors will release me,since I'm finally doing well.?As for the future?I pray that the day will finally arrive,when my teardrops will no longerfall from the corners of my weary eyesand that if I keep the faith,someday God will grant me wingsso I can fly.Chapter XIV My TherapyWhen it comes to my therapy, I can honestly tell you that it is not a coincidence that I was given the following assignment over Mother’s Day weekend. The assignment was to write to myself as if I were my own mother (not as my actual mother, but as a mom in general). At first I was skeptical of the assignment, and I predicted that I was going to be very hard on myself, and I told my Psychologist this, but she insisted that I give myself some slack and this helped to ease my mind. I wrote the following directly from the heart in my journal on May twelfth, two thousand nine:“Dear Gina,As your mother I would like you to know that there are a lot of things in life that can hold us back from enjoying it. You must learn to be strong in this world. You must try to take the things that have caused you a great deal of pain and sorrow and try to treat them with a grain of salt so that you can find a way to forgive yourself and move on. What I mean is do not linger in the past or let the past determine your future. Allow yourself to maintain your morals and values at this stage in your life. When it comes to relationships learn to choose people who try to help you make better decisions. When it comes to romance don’t give yourself away until you’re 99.9% sure that the other person appreciates you and loves you for who you are; not what they want you to become. It is important that you choose to be around people that respect where you’ve been and vice versa cause the way we treat each other in this world is not a one way street. In other words be prepared to respect those who respect you even if you don’t see eye to eye with one-another. I say this because it makes life easier on you and other’s because none of us are perfect. I feel compelled to let you know that there are many challenges in life. These challenges can be big or small, but one thing is sure and that is that they will cause you to change in one way or another. Don’t be afraid of change though, because change can sometimes be good if it’s applied with a lot of thought behind it. In other words, don’t make decisions impulsively because haste makes waste. Think things through and get feedback from people you trust in your support network. After all it’s your life and taking time out to think things through will prevent you from making the same mistakes in the present or the future.I’d also like to touch on your problem with substance abuse for it has definitely affected your quality of life. Sobriety without a doubt has been one of your greatest accomplishments and I’m proud of you for it. Remember to keep in mind that you’re not a looser in life when life’s challenges can sometimes hand you trauma that can cause you to feel weak. Your mental illness will be a major challenge in life, so keep your support network close and always remember to take your medication.As far as drinking and drug abuse goes…I’m going to tell you that this one can either make you or break you. I will not sugar coat anything. This disease will be testing you all the time. Here again you must be strong and use every coping skill under the sun, ‘cause you never know when life will hand you as much as you can bare. Please also know that I am here for you no matter what and that I’ll even forgive the times when you go against my advice and experience. I want you to know that it’s important that you see me not only as your mother, but also as your best friend. I want you tell me all your sorrows as well as your guilt and shame. If you can’t tell me then at least leave it up to God when you’re seeking some sort of guidance. Always remember God for He will be there after I’m gone. Never forget your siblings either. They have a lot of experience in things such as child rearing, financial crisis, and divorce. Most important they’re your flesh and blood, so please consider their advice when you need someone to turn too. I would be dishonest if I told you that three abortions were O.K., but instead I will advise you to learn from your own mistakes so that you don’t repeat them anymore. I’m very sorry you found yourself in such a terrible situation and that you felt there were no other alternatives especially because you were young. I’m certain you were saving that part of yourself for someone special, but unfortunately you chose not to listen to me when I told you to finish your schooling and worry about being a wife and mother later; after you had established a career for yourself. I told you this because I had made poor judgments myself when it came to my relationship with your father. I’m sure that guilt and shame are something that you have dealt with as a result of your choices but try to remember that we all commit sins. I recommend that you look to your spiritual side in order to move on. I’m sure you’ve asked for forgiveness, because, after all, they were God’s children first. Now they’re in heaven looking down on all of us. I would like you to realize that we all sin in some way or another, but what is important is the condition of your heart for God knows whether or not you are remorseful for the sins you commit, big or small. If it’s too late for you to have children, give back to them especially if they are in need of love and affection. After all, there are many children in the world today that wish they had someone to care for them and you might be the one to show them the right path to take, because of your own mistakes in life. While seeking for your soul mate try to find a man that is genuine, and please do not be blinded by past experiences with other relationships or you might miss out on being the wife of Mr. Right. It’s important that I tell you that even though you weren’t able to finish your four year degree you have still gained a world of knowledge from your own personal experiences. If you can, try to keep in mind that you’re only as wise as the mistakes that you’ve learned from. If you should need me after I have left this world, God will send you many messengers to help you make it through life’s trials and tribulations in order to carry you when you least expect it so keep your faith in Him strong. Please do not take my opinions of you personally. Instead consider them a gift from me to you because, I am your mother and I care what happens to you both now and in your future”. Love.Your motherPoem XVIIMotherYou radiate like a rainbow;Beneath a clear blue sky,and you’re as soothing as a gentle breezein the month of July.You’re like the rain is to a desert;A blessing to the earth.your spirit is like an Angel’s,and Gold is what you’re worth.You’re like a star that always twinkles,or the sun when it shines;You’re one of God’s greatest creations,and His gift to mankind.Epilogue/The Gift of Sharing As I am writing this I feel a sense of completion, but more importantly I feel a great deal of love and compassion for the entire human race no matter what culture we’re derived from or are a mix of. I feel blessed to have lived this long to share my thoughts as well as my feelings with the readers of this book. I hope we are all able to find a place in this world that allows us to live in peace and harmony for that is what our Maker would want. Each of us has the ability to share our individual life experiences through many channels such as storytelling, poetry, and different types of art. This can not only help us to cope and portray how we feel about our world today but our talents can inspire others to do the same. I say this because, even though I am mentally ill and suffer from different types of addictions I have somehow risen above the expectations of society by overcoming what many would think to be impossible. In addition, I wrote this book to help those who suffer greatly from a mental illness and hope that it will motivate those who are or have been institutionalized. It is also a dedication to all my family, friends and my advocate(s) who have all stuck by me through thick and thin. ................
................

In order to avoid copyright disputes, this page is only a partial summary.

Google Online Preview   Download