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What Life is This......
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What Life is This...... Well...I was born in Corsicana, Texas...the first born of two A type personalities...my Dad was riding the rodeo circuit and bringing in some prize money on the side. Bronc riding and steer wrestling were his favorites, but he also rode bulls and did the calf roping. My mother the ever thrifty and self sufficient second eldest of 8 ...created a darling little purple cowgirl outfit for me and my father held me on the saddle in front of him during the Grand Parade at the beginning of the rodeos....that in itself might give you SOME idea of what the rest of my formative years were like! Mom always insists I was a perfect baby...that she could take me anywhere and I would sit and play quietly at her feet...or stare at the pretty ladies in wonder. I remember hours spent in the hallway upstairs, in a spot of sunshine that glowed through the window…dressing my Barbie’s in one beautiful gown after another (mother loved to sew or knit these tiny garments for my dolls) I also always love to put paint or crayons to paper and create my works of art. I liked my own company as well as that of others from a very early age...likely due to my very vivid imagination. My mother a mathematician, full of creativity and the desire to educate became a Junior and Senior High School teacher (for 35 years) She taught at South East Junior High until all four of her had moved onto High School, and then took a proffered position at West High School (How dare she we all gasped in mock horror! Our arch enemies! You see, we attended City High School, home of the Little Hawks) In 1965 my Dad joined the staff of the University of Iowa as the Vice President of Health Occupations, where he flourished for 30 some years. I can say all in all I had a treasured childhood, grew up a highly creative, outspoken, intelligent, natural leader with a flair for art, music, drama & writing. My parents provided us with multitudes of opportunities to fully blossom in all aspects of our personalities! My Dad had grown up with disdain for his alcoholic mechanic father...and vowed to improve his lot in life. My mother became a mother to her younger siblings at 13 when my Grandmother died at home in childbirth, bearing the 9th Joseph, who was also lost. My Grandfather Rudy never remarried until much later in life...and with the help of my Mom and her older sister Irma...successfully raised the family on his own on his dairy farm in North East Iowa. My Mother and all of her siblings, with vastly different personalities grew up happy and with varied careers and talents. My father the first (second ) was outgoing and ambitious all of his life, and when his fathers drinking started to trouble him...went to spend most of his days on "uncle" Jim and "aunt" Gladys' farm...where he learned the value of hard work and was deeply loved as only a childless couple can. His mother was not a forceful personality...so she did little to interfere. Growing up my folks moved from Corsicana, to Fort Dodge, Waterloo, and finally landed in Iowa City when I was about 6. For my second birthday the present I received was a gift beyond compare! A tiny sister (literally!) She was born two months prematurely weighing in at 3 lbs 2 oz! In 1962 she was not predicted to survive, but after 10 weeks in an incubator...and constant deliveries of my mothers breast milk Deanna came home! All four of us, Dee and my two brothers, Tom & Andy are true loving sibs. Even though we are spread out over many states...and only see each other once or twice a year...the love never lessens. We are all two years apart. My folks both believed in the benefits of raising on the farm...so when I was 10 (after spending every summer helping on my Grandfathers farm) they purchased 180 acres of original Kainz farmland bordering my Grandfathers farm. Our muscles grew hard, and we learned all of the self sufficiency of growing our own food, raising livestock, cutting wood to heat the house, and living a life away from the city during weekends and summers. We had horses to ride, woods to explore, streams to fish in, and rivers to canoe. We learned how to operate farm machinery, repair whatever broke...and the joy of sitting outside in the dusk listening to the bullfrogs on the pond. In school I was an eager student...teachers pet, and advanced quickly in the literary arts. Reading was my biggest passion from about nine on (still is!) My father used to love to brag to his coworkers and friends about the latest "adult" novel I was reading! Being incredibly strong from the summers of lifting bale after bale of hay...I was a superior athlete as well (all of us were) Basketball was the sport my mother had played in college, and steered me towards. She, in fact, became our coach in Junior High, and coached the team I was on to three years of undefeated play! In high school I turned my attention to the stage. Somehow the limelight beckoned me...and I was thrilled to the core to be part of many productions. My father, the parent with a beautifully melodic voice, had instilled a love of music and singing in us from the moment we were born. I fondly remember him strumming his guitar and singing all the songs he knew with “Cindy” in the lyrics…along with many a beautiful cowboy ballad. Because of this vocal music has also always been a part of my life! I matured sexually quite early (fooling around at 13, first sex at 15) Soon I also discovered my interest piqued by members of my own sex! My girlfriends and I were curious about what would happen when we finally made out with a boy...spent a few sleepovers with the lights out exploring each others bodies...I always seemed to take on the "role" of the boy in these scenarios...and it excited me immensely. Soon after that I found great satisfaction and excitement in the opposite sex. This may also have been in part due the one of my regular babysitting jobs, for a man who lived in the house on the street behind us…I would watch his small occasionally, and after the little boy was asleep, would head straight for the den, where I had discovered the worlds largest collection of Pornographic magazines…stacks and stacks of them! Looking at the pictures of naked women doing everything you can imagine to them selves and with others aroused me greatly! I loved baby sitting there! As I look back...I find it extremely interesting that although I loved sex intensely...I never had an orgasm during sex or foreplay until I was an adult! Shows you how much sex can be in the mind...even more than physical! I did the usual teenage rowdiness...drinking & partying, but overall a good that made my parents proud. My parents are still together...and now in the truly companionable years of their marriage...there were some rocky years when I was in Junior High...when my father became overly jealous and possessive of his sexy young looking wife. There were terrible fights, when we would run in and scream at our dad to leave mom alone (I never knew for sure...but I think she may have had an affair that he found out about. He traveled frequently...so it would not surprise me to learn she had, being highly sexual, grown lonely in his many absences. When the rough spell was occurring in their relationship, I remember hating my dad...and wanting to protect my mom no matter what! Now so many years later, I can barely remember the trauma I felt back then! Dad always thought he was in control of everything...but never realized that it was actually Mom who made the world we lived in go round. I think he finally came to terms with that fact after succumbing to chronic fatigue syndrome and being forced to retire early at 62. My mom went on and continued to run the household, the farm, and work with or without his help. She was always physically fit, that was very important to her...rising at 5 am every day to do an hour of aerobics and weight training...running every other day...even competing in marathons until she was 60... Dad suffered depression, and his personality fluctuated wildly for a few years until he did immense amounts of research on nutrition and began to heal himself with proper diet and nutrients. The true blow came when 8 years ago my mom suffered a brain aneurysm and a resultant stroke when they did surgery to repair the bleeding blood vessel! Mom wound up paralyzed on her entire left side, and very weak and barely able to speak or eat. Then dad had to step up and become the man in charge! That was the single most terrifying moment I have been through with my parents, when my brother called me and said "get ready, we are driving to Iowa City, mom is in the hospital having brain surgery"! I never left her side for days...even though I had two small with me. It has taken five years...but mom is doing great now...the only paralysis that remains is her left hand. She walks with a cane, or holding onto dad's arm...and is happy and active. My Sibs are all successful as well, my sister and my youngest brother Andy being very goal oriented and focused (like our Dad) and my brother Tom and I much more creative laid back personalities (like our mother). In 1978...the year I graduated from High school, being 18 meant you were of legal age. So for the last 5 months of school, I was an adult in the eyes of the law. Responsible, a good student, having held jobs since I was old enough to get a work permit, I had felt like an adult since I was probably 16 or so....When summer came, and I decided not to go to the farm (wanting to be with my friends) my father & I soon came to loggerheads over what rules I had to follow "while I was still living under his roof!" I had met Bob a few days before my 18th birthday...and had been dating him for 5 months...he is 2.75 years older than me, and was out on his own working already. So you can probably guess what happened....I said "fine...if that's what you want...I am moving out!" So I moved from my parent’s home, straight in with Bob at 18. I started college at the University that fall...but never made it past my first year. My life started to slip away from the focus of what I wanted...to what Bob wanted. We finally married when I turned twenty...and being the oldest granddaughter on both sides of the family...the wedding was a great loving family affair. There was plenty of food, dancing into the wee hours, and champagne flowing freely. (Not the expensive kind, mind you, but lovely all the same!) the first years of our marriage were fun, Bob had always been a drinker, but it never really became apparent to me that he was addicted until many years later. We were always partying...and the thing to do in a small town like Kalona, was to meet up with your friends at the local tavern every night and drink for a few hours...play cards or music...catch up on gossip etc. We were well matched sexually at first. Bob was the first man to discover I did not really orgasm during sex...and eventually lead me to be comfortable manually stimulating myself during coitus to fully enjoy intercourse. We even had a couple small adventures...the ménage a trois with Marcy...which lasted a week or two...but unfortunately for me was never an avenue of sexual pleasure that Bob wanted to pursue again (self esteem issue...I was more orgasmic with her than with him) He also looked sideways, not so much in approval, as in letting me get away with it when I would flirt and except attention from friends of his that were not married. But as time went on and the drinking never stopped (really….every single night of his life!) the picture started to come clear. Bob's father, an elementary school vice principal there in Kalona for years, was also an alcoholic, as had been his father before him. Bob dearly loved and respected his dad, and so grew up with the impression that as long as you can function on a daily basis...drinking yourself silly every night was just fine! Bob's mom also worked at the University of Iowa at the college of Nursing in the graphic arts design dept. She was very strong willed...but never insisted the drinking stop. She also had a somewhat troubled childhood, and truly hated conflict! I think the move from pleasing myself to pleasing Bob was easy for me, because I always responded to praise and strived to make others happy and proud...so whoever was important in my life, I was all about "what do they want?". One area that I still persisted in was wanting ...and try as we might...we were not successful! When I was 25 we began infertility treatment...and discovered our bodies both to have afflictions. Bob's sperm count was so low as to almost be sterile...while my body did not like what little sperm he had...refused to create a welcoming environment should an egg somehow become fertilized! We did many different types of treatments...and Bob had a vericocele operation...I took fertility drugs; we inseminated with his semen directly into my cervix...everything they could think of. I was heartbroken...as my sister became the first to bear my parents a grandchild, my nephew Brett, followed closely by my brothers Tiffany! It felt so much like failure! Bob drank more than ever...and I tried my best not to cry whenever I held my niece or nephew. Around this time work was starting to become scarce for Bob...and he became unemployed for several months (you can imagine how bad this was for a drinker with poor self esteem to start with!) By then I had started to feel distance growing between us and his negativity blossomed until it was hard to be around him! He also had his first drunk driving conviction. I was beginning to miss having fun and feeling admired so started an office flirtation...nothing serious...but it made me feel better. I had been working at the drug Store since I was 18 and dropped out of college. I had started as a clerk, and worked up to bookkeeper and assistant manager. Bob took part time work as a garbage man...which I think to him was a blow. He was a smart talented carpenter and concrete worker who had been a foreman of a crew...now he was hauling garbage for $5 an hour. I started to look in the papers to see if there were anything he could apply for...and happened upon an add for a concrete foreman needed in Naperville Illinois, at a starting salary triple to what he was making then! I urged him to check it out...and to my surprise he called the guy...and was flown in to do an interview. (It took a bit of courage on his part to do that I know!) He was hired...and the process of his moving over here began....we thought he would go first, find a place etc than I would come later. As months went by...I got cold feet. Terrified to leave everything I had ever known. We still had no happiness to look forward to in the baby department...and I let him know my thoughts. We decided to separate for a while to see if our feelings changed. That was 1986. For 12 months I started my own mini sexual revolution...sowing the wild oats I had never really had a chance to when I left home and moved straight in with Bob. (All THOSE stories at a later time) In December of 1986 Bob wrecked his brand new pickup truck, and was lucky to survive driving back to Iowa drunk. At Christmas time we had finally decided that that was it...we were done. We had a tearful “one last goodbye”. But we did not commence to legally divorce. As the new year rolled around...Bob would still occasionally come home and take me on a date...in March I noticed some awfully strange changes in my body...and you guessed it...found out I was pregnant! Well, somehow it seemed that fate wanted us together after all...so I finally gave in and consented to move to Illinois. I, however, had the health insurance...so in order to insure the birth would be covered, I stayed on and worked until my eight month. Then I moved over here. Being alone in a strange place, with no friends, and Bob working all the time, the entire focus of my life became my . Every day, every night, I spent loving him, teaching him, playing with him...I never tired of it. He was a very advanced little ! I ended up having an emergency c-section when I could not birth him because of his size! He came into the world blue and weighing in at 9 lbs 13 oz and 21 inches long! He was born with muscles! He had the fair complexion and sandy red blonde hair of the Petersen clan. Cory stood up and walked when he was 6 months old...was speaking over a 100 words by the time he was a year old He talked in complete logical sentences by 15 months! What a wonder! Shortly after his 1st birthday, I was incredulous to discover myself pregnant AGAIN! Twenty one months after Cory’s birth, Shannon was arrived...the small wise one. (also via c-section…she came out tiny perfect and beautiful, not having been pushed through a birth canal at all!) She was a serious baby...and silent. She began the habit of following her brother and wanting to do everything he did early. She walked at ten months...but didn't really speak clearly until almost 18 months. Oh, she talked a lot...just in what I laughingly referred to as "Chinese Martian Baby Talk" The maintenance man of our apartment complex called her the "queen of the cookie crowd" by the time she was 3. She sparkled like a diamond with personality to spare. Cory proved to be the strong silent type after growing out of the emotionality he displayed from 3 to 7 or so....even to this day...I have never seen him lose his temper. (Much like my youngest brother Andy...highly intelligent mountain of a man...who is always as gentle as a teddy bear) Shannon was my constant companion...and my little doppelganger as well. Like I revered my own mother...she followed in my footsteps as her personality developed. During this time...Bob's drinking habits remained the same...he was a functioning alcoholic. He had in all the years I'd known never missed a day of work. It was around then that he had his third drunk driving arrest, and lost his license...and had to serve jail time. This forced me into a very difficult position having to wrap my sleeping in blankets and put them in the car to drive him to work at 5 every morning for many months, until they hired a driver for him. He was a good provider...and a good father, to a certain extent. It was fine while the were young...but as they grew older and their Dad started showing up a school functions and sporting events inebriated...it started to bother them. He never thought it did! It came to a point when my demanded I never bring him to a baseball game or football game if he was drunk. I would try to wait until he had passed out...then leave and say later..."I couldn't wake you up!" During grade school I worked at their school, volunteering in the classrooms and serving on the board of the PTA. I loved this time intensely! Helping to shape the minds of little was a true calling for me! I used my talents in art and music to help make their lessons fun and exciting. The second year I also got a job as the lead supervisor in the lunch room. Those years I look back on fondly...knowing what I was doing was important work. Bob never thought so. He belittled me constantly for volunteering when I could be making money somewhere else. I finally did take another part time job at the Pediatricians office, but continued to be very active at the school. I was able to compensate for our deteriorating relationship by making friends at the school, and being the "fun mom" in the neighborhood who let all the come over and played with them...or did crafts or baked cookies...I wanted my to have the same wonderful fun I did as a ...it worked with me trying my best to do everything normally required of two parents single-handedly. All the doctors visits, all the parent teacher conferences, all the activities...the late nights when they were sick...I did them myself. Bob's attitude began to focus around money. Since he was the breadwinner...he thought he should not be expected to have to do any work once he got home...and basically couldn't since he would start popping open beers as soon as the drive home from Sugar Grove started. None of the court mandated counseling had done a thing for him...and he did not change his ways at all. He switched from drinking 10 to 12 cans of beer a night, to vodka and lemonade...buying three 1.5 liter bottles a week. That went on until December of last year. Imagine the brain cells he destroyed! I can say definitively it DID change his personality...and his ability to think. He became paranoid...and in constant attack mode. No conversation with him ever ended pleasantly...and by the time we had finally gotten financially ahead enough to buy a house...our marriage was in shambles. My unhappiness and emptiness had lead to terrible bouts of trancelike spending sprees. I went into therapy, and started medication for depression. Bob refused to participate in therapy insisting it was "my problem" not his...he could not see the vicious circle we were in. Because he had been raised in a stoic Missouri fashion that you never air your dirty laundry, talking to anyone about his feelings was impossibility for him. Plus he still did not see his drinking as a problem. During elementary school, my was a star student...well liked and often voted into positions of leadership. She was very mature but had a fun bubbly personality and could interact with adults as well as her peers. When we moved to the house...she was hitting puberty... and things began to change. She had gotten involved with a friend whose family was part of the Salvation Army Church. If you do not know a lot about this little faction...let me tell you they had a fundamentalist religious view...but most of the activities they did were based around music. Shannon loved music...played the cello, and the oboe and sang in the choir...so this really appealed to her. She went to her first music camp the summer between 6th and 7th grade. It was there that her confusion about her sexual identity started as she found herself attracted to other girls. This led to inner turmoil because the church community frowned greatly on homosexuality. She was also starting the very beginning of the hormonal and chemical changes in her brain that would eventually lead to the diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder. She became depressed...and started dressing like a boy...hiding her blossoming figure. Soon she was cutting her skin as a form of release. In sixth grade she had flourished, been on the student counsel, in the orchestra, chorus and honor roll...by 7th grade it all started to roll downhill. We went to a psychiatrist, who recommended anti depressants and therapy. So thusly began the journey to hell that would be our next 4 years. From that moment on...for Shannon...things never got better until this last May. She was failing in school and in and out of the hospital constantly. She could not stop cutting herself and none of the medications seemed to work. During all of this...I was once again playing the single parent role. Bob did not participate. When Shannon finally confided to me about her feelings about other girls...I explained she should not feel bad about that at all...and even that I have felt that way myself. She had been communicating with an older girl she met at the music camp who lived in Wisconsin throughout the school year...and once she found out I was not going to hate her for liking girls...she seemed a bit better for a while. Her Father even took it well, considering his being homophobic most of his life. (Double standard...girls liking girls was okay with him...but fags should die as far as he was concerned) Her brother didn't like it much, but didn't make waves. She attended music camp the second summer...but trouble arose when she and her girlfriend were caught making public displays of affection...she was "dis-invited for the next year” Which was a horrible blow to her self esteem. It infuriated me, because I knew that several of the girls that went every year were gay...and this fact along with Shannon's natural tendencies had lead her to feel it was okay to be that way! She was the only one not invited back that year...the others were not ostracized! This was when our great debates on religion took place...and I tried to slowly undo the brainwashing the church had inflicted on her that was hurting her sense of self. More hospitalizations...more meds...life was a constant merry go round of office visits and co-pays. When Shannon entered High School the worst happened...in desperation to stop the constant depression...Shannon got involved with the dark crowd at school right away. A senior girl began a relationship with her...and unknown to me at that time...introduced her to drugs and alcohol. She attacked this<b> numbing </font></b>element with vigor...and was soon pursuing any substance she could lay her hands on...and it was readily available! She was a heavy user of cocaine and heroin (the new inhale able variety were selling daily in school) By October I uncovered the facts...and she was put into a program again. Her dad is still drinking and in denial...he thought that she was just being bad and acting out. Shannon admitted she was fearful that she would grow up to be just like her dad. By January she breaks up with the girlfriend. And eventually overdoses in a suicide attempt. By the end of spring break that year...the staff at her school and I had decided to transfer her to a behavioral disorder alternative school. She agrees to try this. At first it seems to be working...but she cannot leave the drugs alone...and life again becomes a horrid cycle of ups and downs...with me constantly trying to find her when she went missing. We were always ending up in the ER...sitting for hours on end. Her tears and apologies, because she knew she was hurting me, came again and again. Along with her self hatred, “for disappointing me”. Her poetry during this time period slices through your heart just like the razorblades that were cutting her skin. By this time she began to display classic symptoms of bipolar disorder. The mania brings lying, stealing, grandiose ideas and drug use...the depression after, leaves her low and unable to function. Once the doctors diagnosed this as Bipolar Disorder...the hunt for a medication combination that will control the mood swings begins again! It is a tedious process...try a medication for a few weeks, if it does not work...wean her off slowly, then try another. All the while she is out of control and cannot be happy, or live any sort of normal teenage existence. By the summer between 9th and 10th grade...her refusal to stop using ends her in rehab for 22 days. Before that she had started her first serious relationship with a boy...and once she got out...he seemed determined to help her stay clean. Parental involvement in therapy and education is extremely vital to these programs...and Bob still could not face his own demons enough to be there for Shannon...he broke her heart when he showed up for a family therapy session drunk, and was escorted out of the building. I still remember he blamed me for that! Asking “why hadn't I told him he could not drink before going there”!! During the stay in the substance abuse program, the treating psychiatrist was unsure if the diagnosis of bipolar disorder was a true one. He felt that drug use could so often mimic these symptoms...and that the only way to know for sure was to take her off of all the medications once she had been sober for a while. In July...we tried it. She was still participating in an outpatient IOP program…which was four nights a week for 4 hours each night, plus two to three AA or NA meetings a week. She was drug tested regularly...and thus far had not shown signs of returning to her old habits. Her boyfriend was her constant companion, lavishing her with love and keeping her busy...so things went well until October came...and he enlisted and left for Marine boot camp. She spiraled down the drain within a week...and ended up back in the hospital as an inpatient on the psych ward. Different medications were started...and after five days...she was released. She returned to school and did fairly well for a month or so...and then attempted suicide for the second time. It was then that she had cried sadly with tears running down her cheeks that her father was not there when she needed him. Shortly after this...Bob stopped drinking. He still could not be of much help to her, since he was struggling with his own demons...but at least he was making the effort to change. After her release that time...she went straight into a day program at the hospital...for three weeks, and seemed to be under control enough to return to school. It did not last long however. And soon she was back in the day program and at the onset of her first truly horrible manic episode. The psychiatrist treating in the day program began a speeded up trails of meds in the hopes we could cycle through and find something to help...most simply made her symptoms worsen...and she began to break down mentally after five days of being unable to slow down and sleep at all. The night before she was hospitalized was the night her father and brother truly witnessed and understood the severity of the disorder that afflicted her...as she became completely irrational, trying to sneak out of the house in the rain with a gym bag full of deadly chemicals to huff after slashing a hundred cuts up her arm and carving the words "I'm sorry" When I caught her with the bag I went crazy screaming at her "what are you doing? Are you insane...?" and grabbed the bag away from her...she tried to run out of the house saying she was going to run away...and then began to physically fight me as I tried to block the door. It took all three of us to put her down to the floor and hold her there. She was psychotic! I finally calmed down, as her father tried to settle her by letting her smoke a cigarette, and enticed her to lay down beside me...she slept for an hour or two. I called the psychiatrist to let them know I was bringing her for admission through the ER. I had to trick her into going...insisting it was to have them look at her cuts...and when she finally understood why she was there. She became violent and angry, shouting profanity and throwing things around the examining room. When two security guards came to her to the psych ward again, she broke away and tried to make a run for it. This Time her Dr. was adamant...she was not being discharged until she was stabilized. She had missed the last quarter of school being in and out of the hospital...so the decision was made to change her from the BD school to summer classes at a Therapeutic Day School, with a more therapy based genre as opposed to the strict and unbendable rules that governed the that could not be controlled. While inpatient, Shannon was experiencing hallucinations, and horrible vivid nightmares. There was one young man close to her age in the ward that she formed a friendship with...and clung to. She was heavily sedated for a day or two just to let her body rest and recover from the sleep deprivation she was mentally and physically exhausted from. On the third day...the Dr resorted to using one of the old first line anti psychotics...along with a mood stabilizer...and within 24 hours...the mania receded dramatically. It seemed we might dare hope the combination might be the one! Within five days...it seemed she had regained complete control of her moods...and she was released. (With the knowledge that within a week or two she would be starting summer school.) Things went along smoothly, and each day...a brighter vision of the future began to form. Shannon flourished in the new school, loved her classes and her teachers and seemed to be happy much of the time. She met a new girlfriend there at the school, and they were very happy in each others company. In August2005...when three months had passed and nothing bad had happened...I began to feel safe enough to occasionally relax my constant vigil over her...and think about myself. That is when I reached out online... Addendum....11/29/08 THAT'S when the true adventures....the adventures of Moongoddess began! No one could have possibly explained the magnitude of unleashing your innermost desires online for all the potential sexual partners to see.....and taste, and wallow decadently in as you reach inside yourself and pluck out things about yourself that you never knew. My life has been so passionately filled with wild unimagined fantasies come true since I became MYSELF. Each individual I have met, has taught me something new about my sensuality and doors into places I never thought to go have been opened. I cannot adequately describe how this makes me feel as a person...a woman...a sexual being, but I thank the whomever watched over us all for leading me onto this path at this time in my life. More to come soon friends...and thank you all who have touched my life...and me.  |
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11/29/2008 1:12 pm |
very nice love to chat with you sometime
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A very moving story. And worth some serious discussion for any parent. And with that said, I'd listen to any story you had to tell.
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12/6/2008 1:42 am |
Reading your story brought me to tears, I know only too well what it's like when your child is in trouble. I truly believe, "what does not kill us makes us stronger" and you are one strong woman. Kutos to you!!!
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1/6/2009 4:52 pm |
As a parent, what you experienced is my greatest fear. How do you make it through the days and weeks?
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so touching.............u made me cry lil bit. not kidding.
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That has to be the LONGEST blog I have ever read. And what an amazing story too! Well, if anything, thank you for posting it. I almost feel like I know you now. Who can you call on to save the day? Why none other than... Agent 
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A very moving and open insight into the events that have shaped your life. Thank you for sharing your story.
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9/21/2009 8:14 am |
I completely understand what you and Shannon went thru. I personally am bi-polar with seasonal defective disorder. When I was first diagnosed 20 years ago, I was in the same boat as Shannon. I was an alcoholic at 24 and tried to commit suicide at 25. I now understand that I drank in order to try and escape everything involved with the disease. The delusions, paranoia, continuous thoughts of suicide, anger, depression, sleepless days and nights and sadness were just to much to handle without help. I began drug therapy at age 26 and completed alcohol rehab at 27. Everyday, over the past 17 years has been a blessing and a joy to live. The day will come when Shannon realizes how great a mother she has. You could have very easily locked her up or even worse, let her take her own life. This would have been the easy way out, but, instead you decided to love her and go the distance. I know the pain and suffering I caused during my tough times, so, my hat is off to you for staying tough and sticking with her thru all of it. This disease never goes away, but, with proper medication and understanding of the disease itself, a person can lead a very fruitful and productive life.
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Warmest of the hello to you, wish we were neighbors. ... 
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