Jayson had many real reasons for despair but finds his way. Talk about someone who helped you in a period of your life that was particularly difficult. (No questions or reading for this post)
Response:In August I had a miscarriage. My doctor told me that “one in four pregnancies ends this way;” I’ve heard that statistic a lot since August. It’s so commonplace that I almost felt guilty for grieving. Everyone was very kind, but, in spite of the common nature of my experience, no one really knew how to talk to me about it.
The next month, my best friend got pregnant. She wasn’t afraid to tell me about it, which was really nice as she wasn’t tiptoeing around my loss. And then she lost her baby a month later. Since then, she is the only person that I feel comfortable talking with about our lost children. We talk about them regularly and neither of us feels weird that we named them or that we celebrate the day we were due. I hate that she had to experience a miscarriage, but I am relieved that we have each other to empathize.
When I was 16 and 17 years old, I was going through an unusually difficult time with my mother. She was a very controlling person and everything needed to be done according to her specifications. If you tried to do something different from the way she instructed you to do it, she would lose her temper and begin yelling at or scolding you for not following her very specific instructions. Me, on the other hand, was very hard-headed and stubborn. I would try to accomplish these assigned tasks “my way” in an attempt to show my mother that perhaps there might be a better or more efficient way to accomplish whatever it was that needed to be done. Needless to say, I began to feel like I could never live up to her expectations of me. As a result of me feeling like I constantly let my mother down, I decided,” what’s the point” and I was going to quit school just two weeks before my high school graduation. I was bound and determined to show my mother just how much of a failure I could truly be. It was at this time that my English teacher, Mrs. Carleen Richeson, stepped in.
On the day I decided I was going to quit school, my mother called the school and told them that I would not be coming back. When Mrs. Richeson heard that I would not be coming to school, she took it upon herself to leave the school and come get me. I was shocked when I answered the door to find my English teacher standing right there and asking me if I would like to join her for a late breakfast. Of course I agreed and quickly went and got dressed. As we were eating our breakfast, she asked me what was going on and why would I drop out of school with only two weeks left before graduation. I opened up and told her what had been going on at my house. She then informed me that she understood where I was coming from, but instead of dropping out and proving my mother right, I should graduate and go on to do great things with my life. I truly felt that she really cared about me as an individual and not just a student passing through her class. If it weren’t for Mrs. Richeson my life would have probably taken a much different path and I will always be grateful and thankful for the brief time I had her in my life.
A little over two years ago I experienced a particularly difficult time in my life with a jealous, controlling/verbally abusive boyfriend. (It’s been long enough since this happened that I feel much more comfortable sharing this and less embarrassed that I allowed myself to get into this situation in the first place. Talk about a learning experience; I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.) We weren’t together very long, as I had a really caring group of friends around me to help me find the strength to get out. But the now ex-bf wasn’t exactly accepting of the situation, so was always trying to call or come over to convince me otherwise. One of my closest friends, Margaret was a sanity saver for me.
I was lucky in that she was a night owl and seemed to be constantly online, so whenever I needed to talk she would be willing to stop and listen. Calling her late at night was never a problem. And we’d talk online for long periods of time about anything and everything, when I was unable to fall asleep. She helped me in so many ways, in which I won’t get into too great of detail. But because she was so supportive I felt I could call her whenever I was worried or scared.
For instance, I was able to trust her opinion that calling the police on the crazy, drunken ex was the best thing to do, even though I had still cared enough about him at the time that I didn’t want him to get in trouble. And believe me it took some convincing before she convinced me it was the only thing left to do. I think I was still feeling guilty that I couldn’t make it work out. I had to learn that I couldn’t solve this problem by myself.
Looking back, there would have been nothing I could have said or done to make him understand. But when I called to tell her that he was knocking on my door once again (I was home alone and this wasn’t the first time he’d spent time harassing me) she reassured me that calling the police was the only way he’d listen. Since I had called her on my home phone, she hung up and got online so that she could be “with” me while I called and waited for the police to come over. The police came and took him away to detox. He never came back to my door and that call was one step closer to him leaving me alone.
As I have said in an earlier post, around five years ago I was suffering from Major Depression and Anorexia. At first I didn't think that there was anything wrong with me, that maybe I just had a naturally unhappy disposition or regular teenage angst, and also that I just needed to lose a few more pounds. It got to the point where I was miserable all of the time, never saw my friends, and even considered suicide. I also became obsessive about my weight, counting every calorie, working out excessively, and I eventually became severly underweight.
My mom confronted me, telling me that if I didn't start going to therapy and a nutritionist that she would have me put in in-patient therapy for people with anorexia. Even though I didn't want to believe her or go to treatment, I eventually agreed to go to therapy. I am glad my mom made me go, because without her support and motivation I would never have gone. My mom helped me through that miserable time in my life and without her I don't know what I would have done.
My best friend and I take turns helping each other out during difficult times (we seem to have had a lot between the two of us). She let me stay on her futon for two weeks when I left my troublesome boyfriend the first time, and again years later when I left him for good, he tried to kill himself in my home, and I was too afraid to be alone. Similarly, I gave her a place to live when she left a long-term but unhealthy relationship, and provided a reference when she needed a loan to get out of debt. She knows about my teenage eating disorder; I know about her childhood abuse. We're both in happy, healthy places in our lives right now, but I doubt I would be without her support.
My parents decided to get a divorce when I was 10 years old. At the time, I handled it well, but when I grew older I bottled up inside of me a lot of unexplained anger and battled bouts of depression (both of which I still live with to this day). The person I think who helped me the most during those times was my high school creative writing teacher. I think some of my compositions shocked him but he never discouraged my writing in any way. Eventually, I was able to talk to him about anything I needed to and used him more as a guidance counselor. I was always thankful that he would set aside time in his busy schedule to simply just listen to me.
Actually this is a story that a friend told me. She had been riding on the back of a motorcyle with her boyfriend when the accident happened. It was starting to become evening and both had helmets and were being cautious on the back roads. They never saw the unmarked wire strung from one tree to the tree on the other side of the road.
He died; she suffered a broken back that had to be fused together. The searing physical pain and the emotional pain of suffering such an accident coupled with the loss of her friend, caused her to feel suicidal. It was because of two good friends that took turns going to see her and her belief that committing suicide was an unforgivable offense before God, that she painfully made her way through the despair. One would never have known this fact about her, as she always seemed to have a pleasant and carefree attitude about life, and a true appreciation for each person that she meets.
I always say that my husband saved my life. When we met in August of 1995 we hit it off instantly. At the end of our first date, (it was a double date so we did not talk very much while the other couple was there), Andrew drove me home and we talked until 1 in the morning. We were in a time capsule. Neither of us had any idea three hours had passed in my driveway! By the end of the first two weeks of dating we were talking about getting married after I graduated from high school. Due to some difficult circumstances in my life we changed our plans and got married after three months. Happily Andrew was not scared off when I called him and told him we were getting married in three days! There are two people that helped in an indirect way during this difficult time. Andrew’s parents. They had to give him permission to get married( you have to be 19 in NE to get hitched without written permission)…to a girl they hardly knew, AND let us live in their house while we searched for an apartment! They did not say much during this time but they attended our wedding, supplied us with an old wedding band, and let us live with them for about two weeks.
Hands down, my mother has been the person I turn to for advice, kvetch sessions, and help through difficult times. We both went through an upheaval in our lives after my dad asked her for a divorce on my eighteenth birthday. She was a homemaker and consequently didn’t have many work skills outside the home. I was just embarking upon college and felt nothing would ever be the same again. We both felt greatly betrayed by my dad because he had been leading a double life. During my teenage years, she and I had drifted apart and always seemed to have differences. However, the divorce brought us closer and made our relationship nearer to a friendship. She has consistently given me gifts of support in both words and action. I can’t say where I’d be if she wasn’t as giving and loving as she is. Hats off to you mom!
Being the parent of a child with health and learning difficulties provides you with stresses that you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams. Getting my second son through to his high school graduation proved to be one of the most difficult times in my life. Kyle suffered from adolescent migraines and missed two, three, and up to four days of school per week. And of course, he had to make up his work. This seems pretty simple except for the fact that he has a language processing learning disability that causes him to take about two times longer than most students to complete assignments. Therefore, we were in a constant cycle of treating his migraines and getting him caught up in school. Do you think this might cause a teenager to become difficult? That is the understatement of the century! We had a great deal of behavior issues to deal with also.
I left my teaching job to attempt to better handle this situation. I was, however, able to get a job where I could leave for short periods of time if necessary. This is where I met my friend, Denise. Probably one of the best listeners I know, Denise let me vent my frustrations and never judged me when I was overwhelmed to the point of being angry with my son for things that were not his fault. Because of Denise, I NEVER took anything out on my child or the rest of my family who were also affected by this situation. She always knew what questions to ask and when they needed to be asked to allow me to get through the most recent crisis.
Denise is still my very best friend even though I have not worked with her for over two years. We get together whenever we can, and it seems like no time has passed since we saw each other last. I will forever be grateful to her for her assistance during this period of my life.
Knight- I ride motorcycles with a few people in Lincoln. This is the story of two of them who had severe injuries from an accident but survived desperate times because of deep friendships. One summer night, only two of the six of us could ride out to Branched Oak. Only two months previous to this, "Steve's" girlfriend had wanted a bike of her own. He bought one for her and paid for her motorcycle safety course. So, on that summer evening, they both left north Lincoln to ride out to the lake. On the way out, "Linda" road ahead of Steve. Going a bit too fast, and being inexperienced, she didn't see the truck pulling out in front of her on top of a hill. The truck was pulling a trailer load of hay and Linda could not break in time. She smashed right into the trailer, flying off the motorcycle. Steve saw the whole thing. Linda broke her pelvis, both legs and had severe facial lacerations, which later required plastic surgery. She has never been on a motorcycle, as a passenger or rider, since. Steve, feeling completely to blame, began to drink so much more than socially for several months. He even lost his job due to the increased use of alcohol. However, Linda and the rest of us talked with him, reasoned with him, trying to point out that Linda really did make her own decisions about choosing to ride or not, choosing to have her own bike, etc. We continued to suggest that he get counseling. Linda continued to love him, not blame him. After a long year of support and counseling, Steve found his way out of the bottle and of self-blame. He and Linda are married now and still live in Lincoln.
My fiancé Tyler is the person that always helps me through life’s difficult times. He is always there for me no matter how small or large the problem is. It is hard to think one specific instance that he has been there for me because he has been there countless times. In the last two years, I have struggled countless times balancing work and school. There have been sleepless nights struggling to finish papers and make it to work on time that he would stay up with me or run out at the wee hours of the night to get me some food to keep me going. No matter how crabby and tired I get, he is always patient with me and helps me understand that everything will work out in the end. He was also there for me last year when I tried to locate my half-sister that I have never had contact with. After finding her and having an initial warm greeting, I was turned away in a rude manner. I had never felt such rejection in my life and Tyler was there to help me understand I had not done anything wrong. No matter what the situation, Tyler is always there to support me and help me through it.
After completing my Associate’s Degree during my first go-around with college I had made a lot of bad choices, and was quickly spiraling downward into what could have easily become a scary situation. I was in an emotionally/psychologically abusive relationship that even to this day only 4 people know the full and whole story of all that happened (me, the guy, my Mom, and my husband). One of the ‘tricks’ used for power plays was occasionally breaking up with me to take me back later and make it seem as though I was the luckiest person in the world they lowered themselves to take me back. The last time it happened was when I was visiting my parents in Wayne, NE, and something inside me snapped that I needed to walk away if I was ever going to get away. With the help of my parents, even though it was early August, they secured me a spot at Wayne State University for the fall semester. I moved from MI to Nebraska – but my journey was just beginning. I was still reeling from the choice I had made and it was hands-down my Mom who kept me from going nuts. She became an unbiased person I could vent to, and through not only her words but also her actions she showed me what true unconditional love is.
Although I had sworn off men for a good long time, a good friend I had met at the college wanted to introduce me to her big brother. Six weeks to the day we met, he proposed and I happily accepted. Even though Mom thought it was waaaayyyy too early to be making a commitment so incredibly soon after the traumatic events surrounding my previous relationship, both her and my Dad welcomed Josh with open arms. Even though Josh did not know it at the time, he too became an instrumental helper in getting me over my past demons. It took several years to be able to fully come to terms with everything, and I would not have gotten to the point I am at today without my parents and my husband (to whom I have been married to for seven years come June 1!). I know I have made mistakes as a parent, and will make many more, but I hope that I will always show the same unbiased and unconditional love to my boys that Mom demonstrated for me, because it is a powerful thing!
When I was in high school, I came to the sudden realization one that that I was gay. My friends would be the first to tell you that it was not a sudden realization for them as much as it was a betting pool for when I'd come out of the closet.
I made my first steps into being "out" as a sixteen year old boy, and was content with the people who knew. I made the conscious decision to tell friends and not family. This suited me for two years, until finally I felt compelled to tell my parents. I had made sure to do all the research and get all the possibilities worked out, and I enlisted my friends to help me. One afternoon, while discussing my plans in the theatre, my director called me over to her desk. She told me, very hushed, that she had heard what I was doing and that she totally supported me (as she always had) and that if I needed a place to stay should things get rough, I was to call her cell phone and she would arrange for a ride if I could not find one.
Her act of kindness was overwhelming. I had a support group of close friends, but I had not realized that there were many other people in my life who were rooting for me and hoping that I would be successful, happy, and ok with myself.
The coming out went fine, by the way. A little awkward, but what isn't when you're discussing your life with your parents. And as for the theatre teacher, she's still one of my very best friends and forever in my speed dial.
I am trying to teach my four year old to look before he crosses the street, and that it is only safe to cross when there is a walk signal. As I learned almost two years ago though, even a walk signal doesn't always mean that it’s safe. When I worked at the city library in Billings, I would usually go for a walk for part of my meal break. But one evening I didn't make it back to work as I was hit by a car not a block from the library. I remember looking down and thinking that I had just been hit by a car but don't remember feeling anything. I also don't remember landing, which is probably a good thing, since I pretty much landed on my face. The first thing I realized was that my front teeth were gone. So much for my high school orthodontics. This began a sequence of not just one person, but an entire group of people, that helped me get through this.
One of our regular patrons witnessed the accident and went into the library to tell them what happened. The children's librarian's husband was an ER nurse in the hospital where I was taken, and was also my husband's best friend, so he made the call to Brian. Brian dropped our son off at our other friend's house. Brian was able to meet me at the hospital where I was released a few hours later. Other than a broken nose, teeth, and wrist, I was lucky and didn't have any serious injuries. After Brian got me home, some other friends met my husband at the library to bring my car home. I only stayed away from work for a week. When I returned I was extremely self conscience about my missing teeth, but everyone, patrons and staff alike, were very supportive and glad to have me back. It took almost a year to get all my dental work taken care of, and even that was made easier by really professional and caring people. My orthodontist was even the husband of a friend from the band I played in! This was a difficult experience for me not just for the obvious physical reasons, but because I had to learn to depend on and put my trust in so many people, which is not something I am good at. I also learned to look BEHIND me before I cross the street!
Without going into too much detail (it would be too lengthy for our purposes here), I experienced a pretty tough childhood and teenage years at the hands of my parents, who I still love very much and really try to connect with. Both parents were physically and emotionally abusive, and my dad is an alcoholic whose temper flares when he drinks. In addition to this, my family on both sides suffers from mental illness. I believe both of my parents display different characteristics of mental illness, but neither will ever admit this or seek treatment.
Even though I met my husband after I had already “escaped” my childhood home and was enrolled in college, I still had to deal with many difficult situations with my parents. I thought my parents would improve as I got older, more responsible, and relied on them less, but so far it has not made a difference. They still continue to do and say things to deeply hurt me, especially during pivotal times in my life—college graduations, marriage, career changes, etc.
My husband has been my greatest supporter and the person who has always been there to comfort me and help me gain perspective on my situation. He always reminds me that the only person I have control over is myself. I cannot anticipate or control their actions—the only thing I can change is how I perceive them and how I react. I also know that I need to have zero expectations for their behavior and to accept them as they are if I want to have a relationship on any level. So, in conclusion, there has not been one specific dark time my husband Eric has helped me through. Instead, he has been a constant source of support and encouragement as I often struggle with this difficult and chronic parent-child relationship dynamic.
Growing up is hard. I could identify with Peter Pan and did not understand the hurry to grow up. My friends in the neighborhood got interested in boys in 5th and 6th grade, and they weren’t as much fun to hang out with any more. I remember difficult times in junior high and high school. My mom, my sister, and my aunt helped me get through those times as did the new friends I made in junior and senior high. When my second daughter was a baby, my grandma died, and I began to go to church and grew in my faith. During the difficult times I’ve had since then, it’s been a combination of my family, friends and faith which have pulled me through. I wouldn’t want to face hard times without all three of these supports.
When I first moved up to Omaha to go to school, I did not know one single person who lived here. I went to a few activities that Scott Village had the first week, and one of the nights, I met “Jane.” We spent the evening playing Frisbee and talking. Later on, we exchanged phone numbers and she invited me to her small group Bible study. When I went to the Bible study the next week, I met some more people and started spending more time with all of then. I began going to their church and their large group Bible study. This group of people are now my closest friends. It is hard to imagine what would have happened had I not met Jane right away when I moved up here.
My sophomore year of high school I transferred schools. At my new high school I was very fortunate to find a great group of girls. We all played sports together, hung out constantly and were involved in other extra-curricular activities, also. During those last three years of high school, we became very close. We were known as the "good girls" of the school. We didn't drink or party, and were extremely involved in our community.
After graduation, many of the girls got into the habit of partying often. It was very hard for me to see my best friends give into those temptations. We had always been able to have a great time without those things, and when they began that our frienships faded fast. I was hurt that because I wouldn't go along with them to parties, we didn't hang out anymore. Suddenly, I lost my place in our group. Fortunately for me, I had one sincere friend to hang on to. As I battled with whether or not I was truly doing the right thing by not going along with the girls, Sierra helped me to realize I was. Being true to who I was and holding on to my morals, values and faith was more important than trying to please people.
Even when there are a million reasons, even when both people are so far out of love that they deny ever being in it, even when punches have been thrown (and landed), ending a marriage is one of the most traumatic experiences in the lives of many.
July will be the tenth anniversary of the end of my first marriage. If I’m honest, and I usually am ;), the marriage between the father of my two children and I was over long before it was Over. After much reflection, I have concluded that I must have been fated to be the mother to my two boys. I can think of no other reason why I would have chosen to have a relationship with (and I would never say this within earshot of my boys) The Idiot. Now, I get nauseous even thinking about the intimate aspects of our relationship.
If I sound like I’m be cruel and judgmental, it’s because I am. Let me assure you, however, that I have cause to be. It is difficult for me to imagine a more deceptive, manipulative, and unkind father and husband. I struggle, still, to forgive his brutality toward me and his indifference toward his children. As bad as it was, though, I survived. With the help and support of family and friends I survived, which makes me luckier than 1,500 women who are killed by their domestic partners each year. I am also fortunate because I was able to end the relationship while my children were very young, only two and four-years-old. Though my children still visit their “Birth-Dad” (as they call him) twice a month, they are supervised by his parents who are the best role models an ex-daughter-in-law could ask for.
During the divorce, which dragged on for over a year, my husband’s mother was very cruel. She helped my husband petition the court for custody of my children. She supported (the false and unfounded) allegations that I was addicted to drugs and alcohol, that I was physically and emotionally abusive to my children, and that I was an unfit parent. I was terrified when the judge issued an ex parte order that granted my husband sole custody. For three months he kept my children from me; those where the longest and darkest months of my life. Finally, the court liaisons and guardian ad litem (that my attorney petitioned the court for) issued their statements that proved that my husband, not I, was unfit. To my disbelief, it was my husband’s mother who gave the most convincing testimony after witnessing my husband interact with our children. It was almost unbearable to hear her explain the way he ignored, neglected, and abused my children. Thankfully, and without my knowledge, she intervened and convinced her son to leave the children with her after only two weeks. At the hearing, she presented me with a photo album and video tapes of the time I’d missed with my boys. She also offered the most sincere and heartbreaking apology I have every heard.
In the (almost) ten years since my first marriage ended, I have had the most unlikely and supportive ally in my ex-mother-in-law. I have the luxury of never having to worry about what kind of influence my ex-husband will have on my children during their visits which is so much more than most women have at the end of an abusive marriage.
Ever since I was very little I have acted like a mini-adult. I have the tendency to self impose pressure and perfection, even though on the surface it may appear that I am just going with the flow. After the sudden death of a loved one six years ago, all of this started to really catch up with me. First, I was trying to grieve a loss that no one would sit down and talk to me about. Second, I was trying to remain a perfect 4.2 student (number one in my high school class) while juggling baton, work, dance team, student council, and the craziness of my life at home. The stress seemed to pile up on me and I did not have an outlet, so I let it build and build. I tried to tell my friends and family in a round about way, but no matter how much time I spent crying on the couch or in the hallway, no one really seemed to notice it was becoming a big problem. I would drive to school hoping to get in a serious car accident, and before long I was considering suicide. I decided not to apply to my dream colleges or make long-term plans because I did not think I would live to be over 18. I thought one day I would work up the courage and just do it. After graduating, I hoped it would get better as I moved out and started college, but unfortunately it got worse. One day, I was building an end cap at work and thinking about how I would make it through the night, and I decided enough is enough. I took my hour lunch break and went to my dad’s house and told him that everyday I felt like dying. That was the first time I actually asked for help. It got an immediate response and he got me into counseling within a week. I went for a while, but I felt like talking about my problems did nothing to lessen the burden. About a year later, I broke down again. My dad and step mom begged me to come live with them so that they could help me out. I was skeptical that it would actually work, but I obliged. I’ve lived with them for a year and a half now and things have gotten a whole lot better. I still have some bad days, but now I am able to look at them objectively and say to myself, “Tomorrow will be better.” I understand that a lot of my depression is tied to the amount of stress that I put on myself, so I have started to make positive changes. I now accept Bs as grades and leave tasks unfinished at work, because even though I hate doing this, it sure beats the alternative. After all, no need to rush into adult life!
I began my freshman year of high school in a new state in a completely different part of the country. I knew nobody. In my first class, I met a girl, who like me had moved across the country just a few months prior. She and I hit it off. From then on, we were best friends pretty much all througout high school. I can honestly say that she is the best friend I have ever had. Having her support made high school so much easier. During difficult times I knew that I had someone to turn to. If it wasn't for her I feel that my high school years would have been much more difficult.
For me it was my mom and probably during 5th to 7th grade.
I mentioned I was an overweight kid growing up. While it wasn't bad as it could have been in terms of teasing, it was not easy.
My mom no matter how overweight or ill-fitting my clothes were, mostly it was sports uniforms, my mom always said, "It is just right." That line became a punch line in my family as I was the youngest of 6 and found out when i was older, my brothers and sisters would say that to each other, when I was out of ear shot, if they were wearing something lame or ill-fitting...haha
Anyway, my mom knew there were times an obese kid is going to take some harassment. She focused on getting me to take it in stride and not lash out. She said, you can feel sorry for yourself and show those kids they are getting to you or you can "roll with it."
Another quote she took from somewhere that helped me was "laugh and the world laughs with you, cry... and you cry alone."
Now she didn't mean to not have self-confidense or let people bag on you non-stop, but sometimes don't take everything so personal, not be so sensitive. For example, not being ashamed of wearing sweat pants because they had no baseball pants big enough for me. Just act like it's no big deal. Sometimes laughing a situation is not the end of the world.
Also, she always tried to point me in the right direction with food choices, but she knew I had to do it on my own. And luckily, very luckily, eventually I did.
My senior year in high school was particularly difficult for me. The end of the previous year I had several issues with my ADHD and none of the medications I was on were helping any more. I finally decided that I was just going to stop taking meds altogether. It was also about that time that I was diagnosed with depression and – similar to my other meds – I stopped taking anything for that as well. My logic was: I would have to learn to live without it sometime, so I may as well start now. It wasn’t exactly the best idea.
If it wasn’t for my mother, I doubt I would have graduated high school. It wasn’t until some years later that I realized everything she did for me. She was constantly on the phone, talking to my counselors and administrators – trying to get me second (third, fourth, and fifth) chances in my classes simply because I had given up. Her biggest regret (though I wouldn’t have appreciated it at the time) was that she didn’t simply transfer me to the school she worked at – because she knew how well the Special Ed department worked and knew they had programs for students in the same situation I was in.
Although it was frustrating for me, it wasn’t until later that I realized how frustrating it was for her – and how helpless she must have felt as she watched her son who had previously been a straight-A student finish his final semester with a dismal 0.86 GPA. However, because of her persistent efforts, unconditional support, and constant presence I was able to graduate on time – even though I had given up months before.
This is really a hard question! I have a tendency to be the one people turn to when they need someone or something. I hope I am there in the way that is needed. This does, however, make it difficult to ask for help because I am supposed to be the one with the answers, the helper, the one who is there when you need her. I have been through many difficult times and try to muddle my way through. It is sooo much easier to help someone else than to figure out solutions to your own situations. When I “give up” it is usually short-lived because I tell someone about the frustration, see the silliness of it, and work a solution. I don’t have one person I go to. But I do have support from people who don’t even know they are giving it. These are the two kids I nannied and my six nieces and nephews. They have the ability to make me see through the tough times and look forward to the good times.
This may sound cliche, but yes, my current husband is the one that has been there for me. Until he came along I felt alone and helpless. He is encouraging. He supports me in all my decisions. Until he came along, I thought that I could never attend college. He showed me that yes I can afford it. Until him, I was trapped in a relationship I saw no way out of because I believed that I did not have any friends, of my own that is. I felt that all the friends I had were really my boyfriend's friends. Then the man whose is now my husband came along. He was my friend threw all the fighting, and hard times with my boyfriend. Michael showed me the way out. He gave me the strength to stand up for myself and not let my boyfriend take control of me. Now I am the happiest I have ever been!
The summer before my sophomore year of high school, my cousin and I joined a singing/theater group that would be touring for a week in Colorado. That same summer, our grandpa’s health began to deteriorate. Late in the night before we were supposed to be up early to catch the bus for the tour, my aunt came into my cousin’s room, woke us up and told us our grandpa had died.
We basically had two choices – miss the tour and miss out on performing the songs and skits that we had been practicing for months so that we could be with our family for the funeral, or go on the tour and miss the funeral entirely. My aunt talked it over with our grandma who said that we should go. Grandpa was in church choirs in his younger days and she said, he would have wanted us to perform. He’d be watching us, she said. So, the next morning, we left on a bus with about 90 other kids who had no idea what we were going through. While everyone else was making jokes, singing songs, and doing anything else to keep themselves occupied on a long bus ride, we struggled with feelings of selfishness and grief. But, at least we had each other. My cousin is really like another sister to me, we grew up together and became best friends. If I wouldn’t have had her on that trip it would have been much more difficult then it was. Every night, we silently dedicated our performances to our grandpa, but the performance on the day of the funeral was especially tough to get through. As soon as we got back from the trip we visited his grave. Out of the 25 first cousins, we were the only two that were not there for our grandpa’s funeral. It was hard not being able to be there to say goodbye to him with all of our other family. It’s still hard to think about missing it. But, because it’s something that we went through together, and something that we still go through together, it makes it somewhat bearable.
One of the most difficult things I had to deal with as a youth was the death of my first dog. I came home from school one spring afternoon and my mom told me that Roger was hit by a car and died. Roger was a Siberian husky and when he got loose he had a tendency to run. I was only six years old at the time and I was absolutely devastated. This was my first experience with death, and I was depressed for weeks.
My parents were my biggest supporters, but at the time it didn’t really seem like that. They gave me the “Nothing can replace your dog” speech, and the “Time heals broken hearts” talk, but nothing they said seemed to help. I moped around the house and all I wanted to do was lie around and feel sorry for myself. What really got to me was coming home from school and Roger not being there to greet me. But, my parents put up with me and gave me a hug when I needed it.
My mom and dad assured me that everything was going to be just fine, but that was hard to believe. Sure enough, though, my parents were right. It took several weeks but the pain subsided. On the last day of school, I found out that my parents had made an arrangement with the school. I was allowed to take home the class guinea pig for the summer and take care of it. I thought that was a pretty cool thing for my parents to do.
The only thing that topped that was when I woke up Christmas morning that year and found that Santa had brought me a new puppy. It’s funny how supportive parents have this way of being able to fix almost anything.
My husband has been amazingly supportive during my recent re-enrollment in college. Five years ago I battled depression and some other issues that caused me to quit during my senior year. He understood the reasons for my reluctance then and supports my decision to go back now. To help, he tries his best to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. Little things like cooking dinner, doing the dishes and turning the TV down while I work on homework make me realize how much he cares and that my success is important to him. I am very lucky to have such a great and caring man in my life.
I am a single mother of a 13 year old daughter, Alyssa. When Alyssa was a year old I determined that living with her father was not a healthy or safe environment for either one of us and we moved out. This move severed the ties with Alyssa’s father. This decision was difficult and provided many bad moments in my life. I know that I made the right decision. My mom was there for us offering support and a place to live until I could get back on my feet financially. We lived with my mom for about seven years. I never took her assistance for granted and I am grateful for the support she provided in a rough period of my life. I would not be the person I am today without her.
I have been very lucky in my life and have not had many difficult periods as of yet. Nothing like Jayson goes through, that is for sure. One of the hardest that comes to mind was recovering from the knee injury that i spoke of in a previous post. I was content walking around on my crutches, never attempting to bend my knee again. My older brother, whom i hung out with every day, had other ideas. Me being immobile was not working out too well for him. We couldn't get far from the house without riding our bikes. He was constantly telling me (yelling at me) that if i would just try harder i could walk on my knee or even ride my bike. it wasn't long until i was heeding his advice, and sure enough, with every step the pain lessened. In no time at all i was able to ride my bike, even though the wound was still far from being completely healed. To this day i'm not sure if he was motivated by seeing me heal, or by the fact that we really couldn't do much if i couldn't move. But at the time i was content to let things heal and then deal with the movement of my leg, but he would have nothing of it. Whether or not he had anything to do with my mobility in the end, he did help me to get out and enjoy the rest of my summer despite my injury.
To say life is a challenge is an understatement for some. There are always hills and valleys, the valleys are always a welcomed blessing but the hills never get any easier, even with a great deal of practice. I have been very fortunate to have a person next to me that is solid and supporting through more than half of my life. That person is my husband; we have past the point in our relationship where more of my life has been with him than without him. I was very lucky to find him at a young age and even luckier that we have built a life together. When things are at their worst, all I ever really need is to have him close. It is knowing that there is someone who will always take the time to listen to me, no matter how neurotic my rant may be. He is also the person who keeps me firmly grounded when all I want to do is scream. We offset each other very well. When we met, he carried a keychain one of his sisters had given him and I believe it really is who he is—“Mr. Wonderful”. His strengths are not always obvious, and there are days we drive one another nuts, but the days we need each other, there is never a hesitation to be there. My life would never have been the same without him and I would not be the person I am today without his encouragement.
I am a pretty resilient person and don’t really rely on others to solve my problems. The people I am closest to in my life are my mom, my maternal grandparents, and my daughter. When I was a senior in high school I lived in California. My mom moved back to Omaha in the middle of my senior year to help my grandparents with their business while my grandfather fought a bout with cancer. I didn’t want to come back because I wanted to finish out my senior year in California. So I got myself a part-time job and an apartment. My junior year I had transferred high schools and since I made the switch mid-semester I had to take night school to catch up on some credits. A month after my mom left I found out I was pregnant. So here I was a pregnant senior in high school, holding down a job, paying bills, going to night school, and dealing with things way above my maturity level. This was probably one of the most difficult times in my life, but I did it! After I graduated my grandparents made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. They said that if I wanted to move to Omaha they would let me rent one of their houses and they would watch my daughter so I could attend college. I have a wonderful family. I am truly blessed in that department. If I have problems or difficult times, I know that I can always count on my family.
I have been blessed with a generally happy life, but of course I have gone through dark times. When I have a burden of any kind, I have many people I can turn to for strength, advice, comfort and sympathy: my husband and children are the center of my world, and I draw great strength from them; my parents are not only a great source of unconditional love and support, but they are smart and give great advice (the older I get, the smarter they get!); my family (six brothers and sisters, their spouses and children) are also a great joy and comfort to me. If I ever need help, I have 30+ sets of family hands nearby, willing to pitch in; and I get enormous peace from my faith, which helps in any and all circumstances.
But I can’t imagine what I would do without the support of my women friends. We laugh, cry, pray, and celebrate together. Sharing my joys with them makes the joy bigger; sharing my burdens with them makes the load lighter. They understand me, faults and all, and like me anyway. They offer advice and never let me get very far off track. I am blessed to have so many people in my life from whom I gain strength, and the bond among women is truly one to be treasured.
Response to Question: 8th grade was very hard on me. I had a falling out with my best friend, followed by her retaliation. This lead to the loss of 3 other very close friends, alienation in classes, gum thrown in my hair on the buss, books knocked out of my hands in the halls, and death threats in my locker. I went through a long school year of family counseling where I realized the benefits of counseling. The one person who was always there for me and never became frustrated with the speed of my recovery was my mother. She was there for me every day I cried, every night I couldn’t sleep and had nightmares, every day I needed to call her during school to get through the day. She is my hero. Especially for her support during that time in my life, but also for everything else she has done for me throughout.
I don't want to give too much away here since, as has been mentioned before, this is a forum that anybody can read. However, I can say that when when I was 23 - I'll be 26 in a few weeks - I found out that I have a high-functioning form of autism. I remember being really upset at the time that I found, as I think anybody would have been in my position given the circumstances. I wasn't really sure how I could talk to my family about it, considering they'd let me go 23 years without knowing this tidbit of what I'd call important information, but I was able to confide in two of my really good friends, one of which has a younger son with autism and is non-verbal. Through their help and really more than anything else just knowing that they were there for me, I was able to move on and realize that if I had gone so many years into my life without knowing about this and still coming away fairly unscathed, that I shouldn't let it bother me now. If I hadn't had their help, I probably would've dwelled on it a lot longer than I did.
I had a particular difficult time adjusting to life in college. I wanted to be in college, but I still wanted to be with my family and I couldn’t be with both at the same time. My Grandma really helped me adjust. She opened up her phone line to me and told me to call anytime, which usually meant around 11:30 or later. Luckily she usually stays up late and I very rarely woke her up! She gave me a common thing that happened everyday and still was a piece of home.
I was in a dark place shortly after starting teaching. Perhaps it was the stress; perhaps it was a personal failure, who knows? At this time, my friend Brad showed up at my door needing a place to live. He had just broken up with his wife after her infidelity and need a place to stay until he found an apartment. I immediately got over my problems to help him with his crisis. He helped me put things into perspective. Once we got him on the right track, we moved on to my troubles and solved some things as well, but it was a collaborative effort between great friends that got us each through that struggle.
I think it’s that sense of being needed that kept me going, and him as well. Life is better when you aren’t just living it for yourself. I think that’s why people get married, I mean, aside from shotgun weddings, or duty. It’s a similar sense that I get from being involved in organizations such as my Gaming Club and church choir. They need me, and that fills a void in my life that keeps me going. Incidentally, Brad is remarried, a good girl this time. They have a healthy baby boy and are doing great.
41 comments:
Response:In August I had a miscarriage. My doctor told me that “one in four pregnancies ends this way;” I’ve heard that statistic a lot since August. It’s so commonplace that I almost felt guilty for grieving. Everyone was very kind, but, in spite of the common nature of my experience, no one really knew how to talk to me about it.
The next month, my best friend got pregnant. She wasn’t afraid to tell me about it, which was really nice as she wasn’t tiptoeing around my loss. And then she lost her baby a month later. Since then, she is the only person that I feel comfortable talking with about our lost children. We talk about them regularly and neither of us feels weird that we named them or that we celebrate the day we were due. I hate that she had to experience a miscarriage, but I am relieved that we have each other to empathize.
When I was 16 and 17 years old, I was going through an unusually difficult time with my mother. She was a very controlling person and everything needed to be done according to her specifications. If you tried to do something different from the way she instructed you to do it, she would lose her temper and begin yelling at or scolding you for not following her very specific instructions. Me, on the other hand, was very hard-headed and stubborn. I would try to accomplish these assigned tasks “my way” in an attempt to show my mother that perhaps there might be a better or more efficient way to accomplish whatever it was that needed to be done. Needless to say, I began to feel like I could never live up to her expectations of me. As a result of me feeling like I constantly let my mother down, I decided,” what’s the point” and I was going to quit school just two weeks before my high school graduation. I was bound and determined to show my mother just how much of a failure I could truly be. It was at this time that my English teacher, Mrs. Carleen Richeson, stepped in.
On the day I decided I was going to quit school, my mother called the school and told them that I would not be coming back. When Mrs. Richeson heard that I would not be coming to school, she took it upon herself to leave the school and come get me. I was shocked when I answered the door to find my English teacher standing right there and asking me if I would like to join her for a late breakfast. Of course I agreed and quickly went and got dressed. As we were eating our breakfast, she asked me what was going on and why would I drop out of school with only two weeks left before graduation. I opened up and told her what had been going on at my house. She then informed me that she understood where I was coming from, but instead of dropping out and proving my mother right, I should graduate and go on to do great things with my life. I truly felt that she really cared about me as an individual and not just a student passing through her class. If it weren’t for Mrs. Richeson my life would have probably taken a much different path and I will always be grateful and thankful for the brief time I had her in my life.
A little over two years ago I experienced a particularly difficult time in my life with a jealous, controlling/verbally abusive boyfriend. (It’s been long enough since this happened that I feel much more comfortable sharing this and less embarrassed that I allowed myself to get into this situation in the first place. Talk about a learning experience; I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.) We weren’t together very long, as I had a really caring group of friends around me to help me find the strength to get out. But the now ex-bf wasn’t exactly accepting of the situation, so was always trying to call or come over to convince me otherwise. One of my closest friends, Margaret was a sanity saver for me.
I was lucky in that she was a night owl and seemed to be constantly online, so whenever I needed to talk she would be willing to stop and listen. Calling her late at night was never a problem. And we’d talk online for long periods of time about anything and everything, when I was unable to fall asleep. She helped me in so many ways, in which I won’t get into too great of detail. But because she was so supportive I felt I could call her whenever I was worried or scared.
For instance, I was able to trust her opinion that calling the police on the crazy, drunken ex was the best thing to do, even though I had still cared enough about him at the time that I didn’t want him to get in trouble. And believe me it took some convincing before she convinced me it was the only thing left to do. I think I was still feeling guilty that I couldn’t make it work out. I had to learn that I couldn’t solve this problem by myself.
Looking back, there would have been nothing I could have said or done to make him understand. But when I called to tell her that he was knocking on my door once again (I was home alone and this wasn’t the first time he’d spent time harassing me) she reassured me that calling the police was the only way he’d listen. Since I had called her on my home phone, she hung up and got online so that she could be “with” me while I called and waited for the police to come over. The police came and took him away to detox. He never came back to my door and that call was one step closer to him leaving me alone.
As I have said in an earlier post, around five years ago I was suffering from Major Depression and Anorexia. At first I didn't think that there was anything wrong with me, that maybe I just had a naturally unhappy disposition or regular teenage angst, and also that I just needed to lose a few more pounds. It got to the point where I was miserable all of the time, never saw my friends, and even considered suicide. I also became obsessive about my weight, counting every calorie, working out excessively, and I eventually became severly underweight.
My mom confronted me, telling me that if I didn't start going to therapy and a nutritionist that she would have me put in in-patient therapy for people with anorexia. Even though I didn't want to believe her or go to treatment, I eventually agreed to go to therapy. I am glad my mom made me go, because without her support and motivation I would never have gone. My mom helped me through that miserable time in my life and without her I don't know what I would have done.
My best friend and I take turns helping each other out during difficult times (we seem to have had a lot between the two of us). She let me stay on her futon for two weeks when I left my troublesome boyfriend the first time, and again years later when I left him for good, he tried to kill himself in my home, and I was too afraid to be alone. Similarly, I gave her a place to live when she left a long-term but unhealthy relationship, and provided a reference when she needed a loan to get out of debt. She knows about my teenage eating disorder; I know about her childhood abuse. We're both in happy, healthy places in our lives right now, but I doubt I would be without her support.
My parents decided to get a divorce when I was 10 years old. At the time, I handled it well, but when I grew older I bottled up inside of me a lot of unexplained anger and battled bouts of depression (both of which I still live with to this day). The person I think who helped me the most during those times was my high school creative writing teacher. I think some of my compositions shocked him but he never discouraged my writing in any way. Eventually, I was able to talk to him about anything I needed to and used him more as a guidance counselor. I was always thankful that he would set aside time in his busy schedule to simply just listen to me.
Actually this is a story that a friend told me. She had been riding on the back of a motorcyle with her boyfriend when the accident happened. It was starting to become evening and both had helmets and were being cautious on the back roads. They never saw the unmarked wire strung from one tree to the tree on the other side of the road.
He died; she suffered a broken back that had to be fused together. The searing physical pain and the emotional pain of suffering such an accident coupled with the loss of her friend, caused her to feel suicidal. It was because of two good friends that took turns going to see her and her belief that committing suicide was an unforgivable offense before God, that she painfully made her way through the despair. One would never have known this fact about her, as she always seemed to have a pleasant and carefree attitude about life, and a true appreciation for each person that she meets.
I always say that my husband saved my life. When we met in August of 1995 we hit it off instantly. At the end of our first date, (it was a double date so we did not talk very much while the other couple was there), Andrew drove me home and we talked until 1 in the morning. We were in a time capsule. Neither of us had any idea three hours had passed in my driveway! By the end of the first two weeks of dating we were talking about getting married after I graduated from high school. Due to some difficult circumstances in my life we changed our plans and got married after three months. Happily Andrew was not scared off when I called him and told him we were getting married in three days! There are two people that helped in an indirect way during this difficult time. Andrew’s parents. They had to give him permission to get married( you have to be 19 in NE to get hitched without written permission)…to a girl they hardly knew, AND let us live in their house while we searched for an apartment! They did not say much during this time but they attended our wedding, supplied us with an old wedding band, and let us live with them for about two weeks.
Hands down, my mother has been the person I turn to for advice, kvetch sessions, and help through difficult times. We both went through an upheaval in our lives after my dad asked her for a divorce on my eighteenth birthday. She was a homemaker and consequently didn’t have many work skills outside the home. I was just embarking upon college and felt nothing would ever be the same again. We both felt greatly betrayed by my dad because he had been leading a double life. During my teenage years, she and I had drifted apart and always seemed to have differences. However, the divorce brought us closer and made our relationship nearer to a friendship. She has consistently given me gifts of support in both words and action. I can’t say where I’d be if she wasn’t as giving and loving as she is. Hats off to you mom!
Being the parent of a child with health and learning difficulties provides you with stresses that you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams. Getting my second son through to his high school graduation proved to be one of the most difficult times in my life. Kyle suffered from adolescent migraines and missed two, three, and up to four days of school per week. And of course, he had to make up his work. This seems pretty simple except for the fact that he has a language processing learning disability that causes him to take about two times longer than most students to complete assignments. Therefore, we were in a constant cycle of treating his migraines and getting him caught up in school. Do you think this might cause a teenager to become difficult? That is the understatement of the century! We had a great deal of behavior issues to deal with also.
I left my teaching job to attempt to better handle this situation. I was, however, able to get a job where I could leave for short periods of time if necessary. This is where I met my friend, Denise. Probably one of the best listeners I know, Denise let me vent my frustrations and never judged me when I was overwhelmed to the point of being angry with my son for things that were not his fault. Because of Denise, I NEVER took anything out on my child or the rest of my family who were also affected by this situation. She always knew what questions to ask and when they needed to be asked to allow me to get through the most recent crisis.
Denise is still my very best friend even though I have not worked with her for over two years. We get together whenever we can, and it seems like no time has passed since we saw each other last. I will forever be grateful to her for her assistance during this period of my life.
Knight-
I ride motorcycles with a few people in Lincoln. This is the story of two of them who had severe injuries from an accident but survived desperate times because of deep friendships.
One summer night, only two of the six of us could ride out to Branched Oak. Only two months previous to this, "Steve's" girlfriend had wanted a bike of her own. He bought one for her and paid for her motorcycle safety course.
So, on that summer evening, they both left north Lincoln to ride out to the lake. On the way out, "Linda" road ahead of Steve. Going a bit too fast, and being inexperienced, she didn't see the truck pulling out in front of her on top of a hill. The truck was pulling a trailer load of hay and Linda could not break in time. She smashed right into the trailer, flying off the motorcycle. Steve saw the whole thing. Linda broke her pelvis, both legs and had severe facial lacerations, which later required plastic surgery. She has never been on a motorcycle, as a passenger or rider, since. Steve, feeling completely to blame, began to drink so much more than socially for several months. He even lost his job due to the increased use of alcohol.
However, Linda and the rest of us talked with him, reasoned with him, trying to point out that Linda really did make her own decisions about choosing to ride or not, choosing to have her own bike, etc. We continued to suggest that he get counseling. Linda continued to love him, not blame him. After a long year of support and counseling, Steve found his way out of the bottle and of self-blame. He and Linda are married now and still live in Lincoln.
My fiancé Tyler is the person that always helps me through life’s difficult times. He is always there for me no matter how small or large the problem is. It is hard to think one specific instance that he has been there for me because he has been there countless times. In the last two years, I have struggled countless times balancing work and school. There have been sleepless nights struggling to finish papers and make it to work on time that he would stay up with me or run out at the wee hours of the night to get me some food to keep me going. No matter how crabby and tired I get, he is always patient with me and helps me understand that everything will work out in the end. He was also there for me last year when I tried to locate my half-sister that I have never had contact with. After finding her and having an initial warm greeting, I was turned away in a rude manner. I had never felt such rejection in my life and Tyler was there to help me understand I had not done anything wrong. No matter what the situation, Tyler is always there to support me and help me through it.
After completing my Associate’s Degree during my first go-around with college I had made a lot of bad choices, and was quickly spiraling downward into what could have easily become a scary situation. I was in an emotionally/psychologically abusive relationship that even to this day only 4 people know the full and whole story of all that happened (me, the guy, my Mom, and my husband). One of the ‘tricks’ used for power plays was occasionally breaking up with me to take me back later and make it seem as though I was the luckiest person in the world they lowered themselves to take me back. The last time it happened was when I was visiting my parents in Wayne, NE, and something inside me snapped that I needed to walk away if I was ever going to get away. With the help of my parents, even though it was early August, they secured me a spot at Wayne State University for the fall semester. I moved from MI to Nebraska – but my journey was just beginning. I was still reeling from the choice I had made and it was hands-down my Mom who kept me from going nuts. She became an unbiased person I could vent to, and through not only her words but also her actions she showed me what true unconditional love is.
Although I had sworn off men for a good long time, a good friend I had met at the college wanted to introduce me to her big brother. Six weeks to the day we met, he proposed and I happily accepted. Even though Mom thought it was waaaayyyy too early to be making a commitment so incredibly soon after the traumatic events surrounding my previous relationship, both her and my Dad welcomed Josh with open arms. Even though Josh did not know it at the time, he too became an instrumental helper in getting me over my past demons. It took several years to be able to fully come to terms with everything, and I would not have gotten to the point I am at today without my parents and my husband (to whom I have been married to for seven years come June 1!). I know I have made mistakes as a parent, and will make many more, but I hope that I will always show the same unbiased and unconditional love to my boys that Mom demonstrated for me, because it is a powerful thing!
When I was in high school, I came to the sudden realization one that that I was gay. My friends would be the first to tell you that it was not a sudden realization for them as much as it was a betting pool for when I'd come out of the closet.
I made my first steps into being "out" as a sixteen year old boy, and was content with the people who knew. I made the conscious decision to tell friends and not family. This suited me for two years, until finally I felt compelled to tell my parents. I had made sure to do all the research and get all the possibilities worked out, and I enlisted my friends to help me. One afternoon, while discussing my plans in the theatre, my director called me over to her desk. She told me, very hushed, that she had heard what I was doing and that she totally supported me (as she always had) and that if I needed a place to stay should things get rough, I was to call her cell phone and she would arrange for a ride if I could not find one.
Her act of kindness was overwhelming. I had a support group of close friends, but I had not realized that there were many other people in my life who were rooting for me and hoping that I would be successful, happy, and ok with myself.
The coming out went fine, by the way. A little awkward, but what isn't when you're discussing your life with your parents. And as for the theatre teacher, she's still one of my very best friends and forever in my speed dial.
I am trying to teach my four year old to look before he crosses the street, and that it is only safe to cross when there is a walk signal. As I learned almost two years ago though, even a walk signal doesn't always mean that it’s safe. When I worked at the city library in Billings, I would usually go for a walk for part of my meal break. But one evening I didn't make it back to work as I was hit by a car not a block from the library. I remember looking down and thinking that I had just been hit by a car but don't remember feeling anything. I also don't remember landing, which is probably a good thing, since I pretty much landed on my face. The first thing I realized was that my front teeth were gone. So much for my high school orthodontics. This began a sequence of not just one person, but an entire group of people, that helped me get through this.
One of our regular patrons witnessed the accident and went into the library to tell them what happened. The children's librarian's husband was an ER nurse in the hospital where I was taken, and was also my husband's best friend, so he made the call to Brian. Brian dropped our son off at our other friend's house. Brian was able to meet me at the hospital where I was released a few hours later. Other than a broken nose, teeth, and wrist, I was lucky and didn't have any serious injuries. After Brian got me home, some other friends met my husband at the library to bring my car home. I only stayed away from work for a week. When I returned I was extremely self conscience about my missing teeth, but everyone, patrons and staff alike, were very supportive and glad to have me back. It took almost a year to get all my dental work taken care of, and even that was made easier
by really professional and caring people. My orthodontist was even the husband of a friend from the band I played in! This was a difficult experience for me not just for the obvious physical reasons, but because I had to learn to depend on and put my trust in so many people, which is not something I am good at. I also learned to look BEHIND me before I cross the street!
Without going into too much detail (it would be too lengthy for our purposes here), I experienced a pretty tough childhood and teenage years at the hands of my parents, who I still love very much and really try to connect with. Both parents were physically and emotionally abusive, and my dad is an alcoholic whose temper flares when he drinks. In addition to this, my family on both sides suffers from mental illness. I believe both of my parents display different characteristics of mental illness, but neither will ever admit this or seek treatment.
Even though I met my husband after I had already “escaped” my childhood home and was enrolled in college, I still had to deal with many difficult situations with my parents. I thought my parents would improve as I got older, more responsible, and relied on them less, but so far it has not made a difference. They still continue to do and say things to deeply hurt me, especially during pivotal times in my life—college graduations, marriage, career changes, etc.
My husband has been my greatest supporter and the person who has always been there to comfort me and help me gain perspective on my situation. He always reminds me that the only person I have control over is myself. I cannot anticipate or control their actions—the only thing I can change is how I perceive them and how I react. I also know that I need to have zero expectations for their behavior and to accept them as they are if I want to have a relationship on any level. So, in conclusion, there has not been one specific dark time my husband Eric has helped me through. Instead, he has been a constant source of support and encouragement as I often struggle with this difficult and chronic parent-child relationship dynamic.
Growing up is hard. I could identify with Peter Pan and did not understand the hurry to grow up. My friends in the neighborhood got interested in boys in 5th and 6th grade, and they weren’t as much fun to hang out with any more. I remember difficult times in junior high and high school. My mom, my sister, and my aunt helped me get through those times as did the new friends I made in junior and senior high. When my second daughter was a baby, my grandma died, and I began to go to church and grew in my faith. During the difficult times I’ve had since then, it’s been a combination of my family, friends and faith which have pulled me through. I wouldn’t want to face hard times without all three of these supports.
When I first moved up to Omaha to go to school, I did not know one single person who lived here. I went to a few activities that Scott Village had the first week, and one of the nights, I met “Jane.” We spent the evening playing Frisbee and talking. Later on, we exchanged phone numbers and she invited me to her small group Bible study. When I went to the Bible study the next week, I met some more people and started spending more time with all of then. I began going to their church and their large group Bible study. This group of people are now my closest friends. It is hard to imagine what would have happened had I not met Jane right away when I moved up here.
My sophomore year of high school I transferred schools. At my new high school I was very fortunate to find a great group of girls. We all played sports together, hung out constantly and were involved in other extra-curricular activities, also. During those last three years of high school, we became very close. We were known as the "good girls" of the school. We didn't drink or party, and were extremely involved in our community.
After graduation, many of the girls got into the habit of partying often. It was very hard for me to see my best friends give into those temptations. We had always been able to have a great time without those things, and when they began that our frienships faded fast. I was hurt that because I wouldn't go along with them to parties, we didn't hang out anymore. Suddenly, I lost my place in our group. Fortunately for me, I had one sincere friend to hang on to. As I battled with whether or not I was truly doing the right thing by not going along with the girls, Sierra helped me to realize I was. Being true to who I was and holding on to my morals, values and faith was more important than trying to please people.
Even when there are a million reasons, even when both people are so far out of love that they deny ever being in it, even when punches have been thrown (and landed), ending a marriage is one of the most traumatic experiences in the lives of many.
July will be the tenth anniversary of the end of my first marriage. If I’m honest, and I usually am ;), the marriage between the father of my two children and I was over long before it was Over. After much reflection, I have concluded that I must have been fated to be the mother to my two boys. I can think of no other reason why I would have chosen to have a relationship with (and I would never say this within earshot of my boys) The Idiot. Now, I get nauseous even thinking about the intimate aspects of our relationship.
If I sound like I’m be cruel and judgmental, it’s because I am. Let me assure you, however, that I have cause to be. It is difficult for me to imagine a more deceptive, manipulative, and unkind father and husband. I struggle, still, to forgive his brutality toward me and his indifference toward his children. As bad as it was, though, I survived. With the help and support of family and friends I survived, which makes me luckier than 1,500 women who are killed by their domestic partners each year. I am also fortunate because I was able to end the relationship while my children were very young, only two and four-years-old. Though my children still visit their “Birth-Dad” (as they call him) twice a month, they are supervised by his parents who are the best role models an ex-daughter-in-law could ask for.
During the divorce, which dragged on for over a year, my husband’s mother was very cruel. She helped my husband petition the court for custody of my children. She supported (the false and unfounded) allegations that I was addicted to drugs and alcohol, that I was physically and emotionally abusive to my children, and that I was an unfit parent. I was terrified when the judge issued an ex parte order that granted my husband sole custody. For three months he kept my children from me; those where the longest and darkest months of my life. Finally, the court liaisons and guardian ad litem (that my attorney petitioned the court for) issued their statements that proved that my husband, not I, was unfit. To my disbelief, it was my husband’s mother who gave the most convincing testimony after witnessing my husband interact with our children. It was almost unbearable to hear her explain the way he ignored, neglected, and abused my children. Thankfully, and without my knowledge, she intervened and convinced her son to leave the children with her after only two weeks. At the hearing, she presented me with a photo album and video tapes of the time I’d missed with my boys. She also offered the most sincere and heartbreaking apology I have every heard.
In the (almost) ten years since my first marriage ended, I have had the most unlikely and supportive ally in my ex-mother-in-law. I have the luxury of never having to worry about what kind of influence my ex-husband will have on my children during their visits which is so much more than most women have at the end of an abusive marriage.
Ever since I was very little I have acted like a mini-adult. I have the tendency to self impose pressure and perfection, even though on the surface it may appear that I am just going with the flow. After the sudden death of a loved one six years ago, all of this started to really catch up with me. First, I was trying to grieve a loss that no one would sit down and talk to me about. Second, I was trying to remain a perfect 4.2 student (number one in my high school class) while juggling baton, work, dance team, student council, and the craziness of my life at home. The stress seemed to pile up on me and I did not have an outlet, so I let it build and build. I tried to tell my friends and family in a round about way, but no matter how much time I spent crying on the couch or in the hallway, no one really seemed to notice it was becoming a big problem. I would drive to school hoping to get in a serious car accident, and before long I was considering suicide. I decided not to apply to my dream colleges or make long-term plans because I did not think I would live to be over 18. I thought one day I would work up the courage and just do it. After graduating, I hoped it would get better as I moved out and started college, but unfortunately it got worse. One day, I was building an end cap at work and thinking about how I would make it through the night, and I decided enough is enough. I took my hour lunch break and went to my dad’s house and told him that everyday I felt like dying. That was the first time I actually asked for help. It got an immediate response and he got me into counseling within a week. I went for a while, but I felt like talking about my problems did nothing to lessen the burden. About a year later, I broke down again. My dad and step mom begged me to come live with them so that they could help me out. I was skeptical that it would actually work, but I obliged. I’ve lived with them for a year and a half now and things have gotten a whole lot better. I still have some bad days, but now I am able to look at them objectively and say to myself, “Tomorrow will be better.” I understand that a lot of my depression is tied to the amount of stress that I put on myself, so I have started to make positive changes. I now accept Bs as grades and leave tasks unfinished at work, because even though I hate doing this, it sure beats the alternative. After all, no need to rush into adult life!
I began my freshman year of high school in a new state in a completely different part of the country. I knew nobody. In my first class, I met a girl, who like me had moved across the country just a few months prior. She and I hit it off. From then on, we were best friends pretty much all througout high school. I can honestly say that she is the best friend I have ever had. Having her support made high school so much easier. During difficult times I knew that I had someone to turn to. If it wasn't for her I feel that my high school years would have been much more difficult.
For me it was my mom and probably during 5th to 7th grade.
I mentioned I was an overweight kid growing up. While it wasn't bad as it could have been in terms of teasing, it was not easy.
My mom no matter how overweight or ill-fitting my clothes were, mostly it was sports uniforms, my mom always said, "It is just right." That line became a punch line in my family as I was the youngest of 6 and found out when i was older, my brothers and sisters would say that to each other, when I was out of ear shot, if they were wearing something lame or ill-fitting...haha
Anyway, my mom knew there were times an obese kid is going to take some harassment. She focused on getting me to take it in stride and not lash out. She said, you can feel sorry for yourself and show those kids they are getting to you or you can "roll with it."
Another quote she took from somewhere that helped me was "laugh and the world laughs with you, cry... and you cry alone."
Now she didn't mean to not have self-confidense or let people bag on you non-stop, but sometimes don't take everything so personal, not be so sensitive. For example, not being ashamed of wearing sweat pants because they had no baseball pants big enough for me. Just act like it's no big deal. Sometimes laughing a situation is not the end of the world.
Also, she always tried to point me in the right direction with food choices, but she knew I had to do it on my own. And luckily, very luckily, eventually I did.
My senior year in high school was particularly difficult for me. The end of the previous year I had several issues with my ADHD and none of the medications I was on were helping any more. I finally decided that I was just going to stop taking meds altogether. It was also about that time that I was diagnosed with depression and – similar to my other meds – I stopped taking anything for that as well. My logic was: I would have to learn to live without it sometime, so I may as well start now. It wasn’t exactly the best idea.
If it wasn’t for my mother, I doubt I would have graduated high school. It wasn’t until some years later that I realized everything she did for me. She was constantly on the phone, talking to my counselors and administrators – trying to get me second (third, fourth, and fifth) chances in my classes simply because I had given up. Her biggest regret (though I wouldn’t have appreciated it at the time) was that she didn’t simply transfer me to the school she worked at – because she knew how well the Special Ed department worked and knew they had programs for students in the same situation I was in.
Although it was frustrating for me, it wasn’t until later that I realized how frustrating it was for her – and how helpless she must have felt as she watched her son who had previously been a straight-A student finish his final semester with a dismal 0.86 GPA. However, because of her persistent efforts, unconditional support, and constant presence I was able to graduate on time – even though I had given up months before.
This is really a hard question! I have a tendency to be the one people turn to when they need someone or something. I hope I am there in the way that is needed. This does, however, make it difficult to ask for help because I am supposed to be the one with the answers, the helper, the one who is there when you need her. I have been through many difficult times and try to muddle my way through. It is sooo much easier to help someone else than to figure out solutions to your own situations. When I “give up” it is usually short-lived because I tell someone about the frustration, see the silliness of it, and work a solution. I don’t have one person I go to. But I do have support from people who don’t even know they are giving it. These are the two kids I nannied and my six nieces and nephews. They have the ability to make me see through the tough times and look forward to the good times.
This may sound cliche, but yes, my current husband is the one that has been there for me. Until he came along I felt alone and helpless. He is encouraging. He supports me in all my decisions. Until he came along, I thought that I could never attend college. He showed me that yes I can afford it. Until him, I was trapped in a relationship I saw no way out of because I believed that I did not have any friends, of my own that is. I felt that all the friends I had were really my boyfriend's friends. Then the man whose is now my husband came along. He was my friend threw all the fighting, and hard times with my boyfriend. Michael showed me the way out. He gave me the strength to stand up for myself and not let my boyfriend take control of me. Now I am the happiest I have ever been!
The summer before my sophomore year of high school, my cousin and I joined a singing/theater group that would be touring for a week in Colorado. That same summer, our grandpa’s health began to deteriorate.
Late in the night before we were supposed to be up early to catch the bus for the tour, my aunt came into my cousin’s room, woke us up and told us our grandpa had died.
We basically had two choices – miss the tour and miss out on performing the songs and skits that we had been practicing for months so that we could be with our family for the funeral, or go on the tour and miss the funeral entirely.
My aunt talked it over with our grandma who said that we should go. Grandpa was in church choirs in his younger days and she said, he would have wanted us to perform. He’d be watching us, she said.
So, the next morning, we left on a bus with about 90 other kids who had no idea what we were going through. While everyone else was making jokes, singing songs, and doing anything else to keep themselves occupied on a long bus ride, we struggled with feelings of selfishness and grief. But, at least we had each other.
My cousin is really like another sister to me, we grew up together and became best friends. If I wouldn’t have had her on that trip it would have been much more difficult then it was. Every night, we silently dedicated our performances to our grandpa, but the performance on the day of the funeral was especially tough to get through.
As soon as we got back from the trip we visited his grave. Out of the 25 first cousins, we were the only two that were not there for our grandpa’s funeral. It was hard not being able to be there to say goodbye to him with all of our other family. It’s still hard to think about missing it. But, because it’s something that we went through together, and something that we still go through together, it makes it somewhat bearable.
One of the most difficult things I had to deal with as a youth was the death of my first dog. I came home from school one spring afternoon and my mom told me that Roger was hit by a car and died. Roger was a Siberian husky and when he got loose he had a tendency to run. I was only six years old at the time and I was absolutely devastated. This was my first experience with death, and I was depressed for weeks.
My parents were my biggest supporters, but at the time it didn’t really seem like that. They gave me the “Nothing can replace your dog” speech, and the “Time heals broken hearts” talk, but nothing they said seemed to help. I moped around the house and all I wanted to do was lie around and feel sorry for myself. What really got to me was coming home from school and Roger not being there to greet me. But, my parents put up with me and gave me a hug when I needed it.
My mom and dad assured me that everything was going to be just fine, but that was hard to believe. Sure enough, though, my parents were right. It took several weeks but the pain subsided. On the last day of school, I found out that my parents had made an arrangement with the school. I was allowed to take home the class guinea pig for the summer and take care of it. I thought that was a pretty cool thing for my parents to do.
The only thing that topped that was when I woke up Christmas morning that year and found that Santa had brought me a new puppy. It’s funny how supportive parents have this way of being able to fix almost anything.
My husband has been amazingly supportive during my recent re-enrollment in college. Five years ago I battled depression and some other issues that caused me to quit during my senior year. He understood the reasons for my reluctance then and supports my decision to go back now. To help, he tries his best to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. Little things like cooking dinner, doing the dishes and turning the TV down while I work on homework make me realize how much he cares and that my success is important to him. I am very lucky to have such a great and caring man in my life.
I am a single mother of a 13 year old daughter, Alyssa. When Alyssa was a year old I determined that living with her father was not a healthy or safe environment for either one of us and we moved out. This move severed the ties with Alyssa’s father. This decision was difficult and provided many bad moments in my life. I know that I made the right decision. My mom was there for us offering support and a place to live until I could get back on my feet financially. We lived with my mom for about seven years. I never took her assistance for granted and I am grateful for the support she provided in a rough period of my life. I would not be the person I am today without her.
I have been very lucky in my life and have not had many difficult periods as of yet. Nothing like Jayson goes through, that is for sure. One of the hardest that comes to mind was recovering from the knee injury that i spoke of in a previous post.
I was content walking around on my crutches, never attempting to bend my knee again. My older brother, whom i hung out with every day, had other ideas. Me being immobile was not working out too well for him. We couldn't get far from the house without riding our bikes. He was constantly telling me (yelling at me) that if i would just try harder i could walk on my knee or even ride my bike. it wasn't long until i was heeding his advice, and sure enough, with every step the pain lessened. In no time at all i was able to ride my bike, even though the wound was still far from being completely healed. To this day i'm not sure if he was motivated by seeing me heal, or by the fact that we really couldn't do much if i couldn't move. But at the time i was content to let things heal and then deal with the movement of my leg, but he would have nothing of it. Whether or not he had anything to do with my mobility in the end, he did help me to get out and enjoy the rest of my summer despite my injury.
To say life is a challenge is an understatement for some. There are always hills and valleys, the valleys are always a welcomed blessing but the hills never get any easier, even with a great deal of practice. I have been very fortunate to have a person next to me that is solid and supporting through more than half of my life. That person is my husband; we have past the point in our relationship where more of my life has been with him than without him. I was very lucky to find him at a young age and even luckier that we have built a life together. When things are at their worst, all I ever really need is to have him close. It is knowing that there is someone who will always take the time to listen to me, no matter how neurotic my rant may be. He is also the person who keeps me firmly grounded when all I want to do is scream. We offset each other very well. When we met, he carried a keychain one of his sisters had given him and I believe it really is who he is—“Mr. Wonderful”. His strengths are not always obvious, and there are days we drive one another nuts, but the days we need each other, there is never a hesitation to be there. My life would never have been the same without him and I would not be the person I am today without his encouragement.
I am a pretty resilient person and don’t really rely on others to solve my problems. The people I am closest to in my life are my mom, my maternal grandparents, and my daughter. When I was a senior in high school I lived in California. My mom moved back to Omaha in the middle of my senior year to help my grandparents with their business while my grandfather fought a bout with cancer. I didn’t want to come back because I wanted to finish out my senior year in California. So I got myself a part-time job and an apartment. My junior year I had transferred high schools and since I made the switch mid-semester I had to take night school to catch up on some credits. A month after my mom left I found out I was pregnant. So here I was a pregnant senior in high school, holding down a job, paying bills, going to night school, and dealing with things way above my maturity level. This was probably one of the most difficult times in my life, but I did it! After I graduated my grandparents made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. They said that if I wanted to move to Omaha they would let me rent one of their houses and they would watch my daughter so I could attend college. I have a wonderful family. I am truly blessed in that department. If I have problems or difficult times, I know that I can always count on my family.
I have been blessed with a generally happy life, but of course I have gone through dark times. When I have a burden of any kind, I have many people I can turn to for strength, advice, comfort and sympathy: my husband and children are the center of my world, and I draw great strength from them; my parents are not only a great source of unconditional love and support, but they are smart and give great advice (the older I get, the smarter they get!); my family (six brothers and sisters, their spouses and children) are also a great joy and comfort to me. If I ever need help, I have 30+ sets of family hands nearby, willing to pitch in; and I get enormous peace from my faith, which helps in any and all circumstances.
But I can’t imagine what I would do without the support of my women friends. We laugh, cry, pray, and celebrate together. Sharing my joys with them makes the joy bigger; sharing my burdens with them makes the load lighter. They understand me, faults and all, and like me anyway. They offer advice and never let me get very far off track. I am blessed to have so many people in my life from whom I gain strength, and the bond among women is truly one to be treasured.
Response to Question:
8th grade was very hard on me. I had a falling out with my best friend, followed by her retaliation. This lead to the loss of 3 other very close friends, alienation in classes, gum thrown in my hair on the buss, books knocked out of my hands in the halls, and death threats in my locker. I went through a long school year of family counseling where I realized the benefits of counseling. The one person who was always there for me and never became frustrated with the speed of my recovery was my mother. She was there for me every day I cried, every night I couldn’t sleep and had nightmares, every day I needed to call her during school to get through the day. She is my hero. Especially for her support during that time in my life, but also for everything else she has done for me throughout.
I don't want to give too much away here since, as has been mentioned before, this is a forum that anybody can read. However, I can say that when when I was 23 - I'll be 26 in a few weeks - I found out that I have a high-functioning form of autism. I remember being really upset at the time that I found, as I think anybody would have been in my position given the circumstances. I wasn't really sure how I could talk to my family about it, considering they'd let me go 23 years without knowing this tidbit of what I'd call important information, but I was able to confide in two of my really good friends, one of which has a younger son with autism and is non-verbal. Through their help and really more than anything else just knowing that they were there for me, I was able to move on and realize that if I had gone so many years into my life without knowing about this and still coming away fairly unscathed, that I shouldn't let it bother me now. If I hadn't had their help, I probably would've dwelled on it a lot longer than I did.
I had a particular difficult time adjusting to life in college. I wanted to be in college, but I still wanted to be with my family and I couldn’t be with both at the same time. My Grandma really helped me adjust. She opened up her phone line to me and told me to call anytime, which usually meant around 11:30 or later. Luckily she usually stays up late and I very rarely woke her up! She gave me a common thing that happened everyday and still was a piece of home.
I was in a dark place shortly after starting teaching. Perhaps it was the stress; perhaps it was a personal failure, who knows? At this time, my friend Brad showed up at my door needing a place to live. He had just broken up with his wife after her infidelity and need a place to stay until he found an apartment. I immediately got over my problems to help him with his crisis. He helped me put things into perspective. Once we got him on the right track, we moved on to my troubles and solved some things as well, but it was a collaborative effort between great friends that got us each through that struggle.
I think it’s that sense of being needed that kept me going, and him as well. Life is better when you aren’t just living it for yourself. I think that’s why people get married, I mean, aside from shotgun weddings, or duty. It’s a similar sense that I get from being involved in organizations such as my Gaming Club and church choir. They need me, and that fills a void in my life that keeps me going.
Incidentally, Brad is remarried, a good girl this time. They have a healthy baby boy and are doing great.
Post a Comment