Bullying and home school...

First, allow me to apologize for the absence.  It's been a busy time around here with the end of the year and a toddler running around.  I had some thoughts running through my head and they have somewhat taken form on electronic paper, as it were.  It's a sensitive topic and I fear I may have rambled a bit.  Forgive me for that.  I hope that it's easy to follow.  I'm sure I will have some more on the topic later.  God knows I experienced my share of it.  Get comfortable.  This is a fairly long post.

So, without further ado...

Let's talk about bullies, shall we?  It's a hot topic these days, but certainly isn't anything new or novel.  I've had some personal experience here, as well as dealing with being the parent of a bullied child.  Neither of them are fond memories, let me tell you.

I wasn't exactly what one would call the graceful, wonderful, popular child.  I was weird and awkward as far back as I can remember.

In the 7th grade, I suffered miserably.  I won't give away names or call anyone out.  It's redundant and those fences were long mended, but...

A couple of the popular girls really dragged me through the wringer.  I suffered silently through it, then went home after school to cry my eyes out.  Every Monday left me throwing up, sick at the thought of going to school.  Panic attacks were frequent and I hated every single minute I was in that building.  I remember the breaking point for me.  We were in a class room.  For some reason, the teacher wasn't there and there weren't many people in the room.  I was sitting quietly and reading something or other to kill the time.

I heard some snickering behind me and felt something swoosh past me.  Glancing down, I noticed a little ball of paper all wadded up.  Another one came.  Then another.  By then, it was kind of obvious what was going on, but I just bit my lip and kept reading because, frankly, I was scared out of my mind.  My whole body tensed into one giant knot.  Snickers and whispers joined the tiny little paper balls.  Meanwhile, I was swallowing the lump in my throat and trying not to cry, depsite tears welling up.  It was a moment of fight or flight... and flight was winning.  All I had to do was get the strength to get up and leave.

It never came.

I think the only thing that saved me from collapsing into a heap and sobbing right there was one voice saying, "Come on, guys... she's nice".

Apparently, I wasn't a fun target after that, because the paper tossing stopped and they went back to talking about something else.

As far as they were concerned, it was over and done with.  I carried it, however.  Just like I carried every single thing that was done to me that year.  Being a sensitive soul in the face of that isn't easy, folks.  Being picked on is hard, especially when you would just like to melt into the background. It molds and shapes you.  That is not to say I did not get past it.  I did.  However, there are things that strike up the odd memory now and then, and my self esteem too a major beating.

Before I say what I'm about to say, let me stress this... I DO NOT CONDONE VIOLENCE.  I don't believe it's the right course of action.  I feel that there are many ways around it.  That's said with an adult's hindsight and knowledge, with the wisdom that comes with growing up.

That said...

I can completely understand some of these kids that just snap and turn against their classmates with so much violence and rage.  I GET the feeling of just wanting to make it all stop and wanting to lash out.  I get it.  I don't condone it, but I get it.

It is because of that feeling that I was utterly horrified when my little girl started coming home, talking about being bullied at school.  Our local school has what they call a zero tolerance policy on bullying.  Believe me when I say this is a complete load of crap.  Their idea of zero tolerance is talking to the bully, scolding them... and promptly forgetting to do a damned thing beyond that.

We had multiple discussions with her school.  When a a certain child was pushing her.  That same child was saying some mean things and yanking her hair.  The same child bent her finger backwards until she screamed.  We spoke with the teacher at least four different times.  Spoke to the principal several times.  Very little was ever done.  This little punk bully would be told not to do it again, get a finger wagged at him and off he went.

Where is the zero tolerance policy?  Why was MY child left to fend for herself?  Why was she not protected?  Why was she shown that the people responsible for her safety and well being during school time didn't seem to give a damn about her?

Pixie is already a sensitive child.  She takes so much to heart and feels so, so deeply that it kills me to watch sometimes.  This poor girl wound up coming home in tears.  Every single day.  It finally just exploded inside of my head and we made the decision to remove her from the school and enter the world of schooling at home.  It's been an experience so far.

When I called the school to tell them that would be her last day, they didn't seem to have much reaction.  That's fine.  I just let them know that the bullying situation had gotten out of control and that I was taking over where they had failed in protecting her.

It made me sick to my stomach thinking of her sitting in a classroom with girls behind her snickering and whispering while throwing paper wads at her.  I did NOT want to see her broken like that... and believe me, it DOES break you.  I couldn't bear the thought of her becoming so beaten down by people like this that she took her life.  Or someone else's.  We've seen too much of it.  We've seen far, far too much death circling around bullying and I refused to let my baby girl become a part of that.

We have gotten some odd comments about what we did here.  Home schooling is so weird.  She's going to become a hermit!  You're ruining her education!

Let me tell you something.  She is getting the same curriculum as children in a brick and mortar school.  The program we use is state run with everything she needs right there in front of you, both in supplies and online lesson plans, so we can keep going at her pace.  She has far surpassed what she would have been doing there.  Pixie is a very intelligent girl.  I believe we've made the right decision here.

In an ideal world, there would have been no bullying... no lackluster education for my child while they wait for less able students to catch up... no need for all of the drama and chaos involved.  Unfortunately, we don't live in an ideal world.  We live in the real one... where children are brokenhearted and neglected by educators and others who are meant to protect and guide them.

We couldn't count on them to keep her safe, so I took the reins.  We will make sure she is safe, enriched, protected and loved... all while making sure she gets the education she deserves.

I feel honored to be able to do this for her... with her.  I just feel sad that things had to come to this and it will make absolutely no difference there.  The bullies will find a new target... the schools will continue to turn a blind eye,

This problem is so big.  What is it going to take to wake people up, guys?

Mental illness...

Let's discuss mental illness, shall we?

It seems to me that most people who hear that term... mental illness... immediately go to that "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" type of place.  People talking to walls, hearing voices... some poor sap in an open-backed hospital gown sitting in the corner, drooling all over himself.

The images those two little words bring up are ugly. Like it's a disease you can catch from someone else by accidentally brushing up against them on the street.  Untouchable. Pariahs.

A lot of people that are mentally ill are just like you.  Just like me.  Maybe exactly like me.

You see, in technical terms and actual definitions, I am mentally ill.  I have struggled with that idea for a long time.  I was diagnosed with severe depression... a severe anxiety disorder... post traumatic stress disorder... and obsessive-compulsive disorder.  That's a heck of a lot of disorder, isn't it?

There has been a lot of denial in my life over this.  I have tried to compensate and push it down deep so nobody would see, but it's there.  Sometimes, it rears its ugly head and reminds me that it's still there, lurking beneath the surface.  Just waiting to torment me some more.

It hurts when someone calls me crazy.  It bothers me when I am told to get over it.  As if that's a possibility.

Most of the time, I am able to handle it, with the help of a medication or two.  I function normally.  I have good days.  I laugh.  I laugh a lot.  I am a mother, wife, friend.  There is almost nothing I cannot do that everyone else does with ease.  I'm normal.  Normal-ish.

Sometimes, though...

Sometimes, the anxiety builds until I feel like my head will explode.  The depression crushes.  The obsessive-compulsive behaviors make me twitchy. I become withdrawn and damned near agoraphobic.

This week has been a huge example of it.  I have been feeling really stressed, to the point of being overwhelmed.  I feel as if I want to cry, but if I start, I'm afraid the tears won't stop.  It feels like a baby elephant has been sitting on my chest.  It feels like the rooms are a little smaller and still closing inward.  It is all just... too much this week.

Not to worry... I spoke with my shrink yesterday (she hates being called a shrink, but doesn't say so).  She gave me a few suggestions and I got a lot off of my chest talking to her.  It did help.  It will get better.  I just have to hang on and ride this out.  I will stop hiding behind this wall I have apparently built up and exhale slowly before getting back to my usual self.

Right now, though... I am in its grip.  This thing called mental illness.  Its claws are squeezing a little tightly, at the moment.  I know I will get through this dark patch and break free into the light again... or some other cliched attempt at being poetic about it.

It's just that... right now?  It's a little dark in here...

Holy edit frenzy, Batman!

I'm sorry if you read the previous entry before... well, now.  I was half awake last night writing.  I realized I had a ton of missing stuff and a few half-written sentences.  It's all nice and updatey now.


Apologies.
D

Let's discuss...

Let's talk about gay marriage for a sec, shall we?

I apologize if this rambles.  It's late and I'm a little tired.

I bring this up because it's been in the news a good bit with the supreme court debating the same-sex marriage issue.

I was born into a Catholic family.  Both Grandparents on my Mom's side were very devout and wonderful people.  I have absolutely nothing bad to say about either of them.  There were nine children, though one passed away at an early age. Very close-knit family growing up.  Two of my Mother's siblings were gay.  One male, one female.  I didn't know about that until much, much later, though.  Really, it doesn't make much difference to the story here, but it gives some background.

I never really gave much thought to the idea that people would ever find attractive, let alone want to marry, someone of the same sex.  My Uncle's long-term partner was just another extension of family that was never really given a definition.  He was just always someone that had been in our lives.  Despite that, I grew up with the idea that being gay is wrong.  It's a sin.  It's not even feasible to imagine that gay people would want to be married.  To be really honest about it, I held those beliefs until a few years ago.  Even then, it only softened to the point of "let them have civil unions, but not get married".

I was really in the dark ages there, folks.

It really wasn't until I got to know a certain person who happens to be gay that I started really thinking about the whole issue and came to some realizations.  If he's reading this, hey there!

I define myself as a Christian.  I believe the Ten Commandments are the biggest part of the Bible. I feel like the things Jesus taught are extremely important.  He taught us to love, be kind, be generous and charitable.  He did not teach us to hate or judge.  He reminded us that we are all sinners and no one should be chucking stones at anyone else.  Remember that?

I hear a lot of arguments about this.  Believe me, it's a near-daily occurrence these days.  I could go on for days about this, but I'll just toss out a few here.


You should care what these people are doing!  They're going to ruin marriage for everyone!

Uhhh, well.  Basically, I don't care who is in your bed.  If it's not my husband or me... I really don't care.  If you want to have an opposite sex partner, same sex, both?  great!  Go for it.  Have fun, be safe, etc etc.  What goes on in your relationship is not going to tarnish my marriage in any way.  How is a marriage between Mark and Jim going to bring my relationship crashing down?  Does Molly marrying Liz mean that my marriage isn't as important or doesn't mean as much?

My marriage means just as much because it's between my husband and me, just as Mike and Jim or Molly and Liz would be their own.  Has nothing to do with me, at all.

You know what really trashes the sanctity of marriage?  All of the divorcing going on.  People dive into marriage to have a wedding and be the princess, but they put zero effort into planning for the part after.  The marriage.  Marriage is not a temporary state.  It is intended to be a life long thing.  Until death and all that?


Only men and women should get married because they need to procreate.

Oh, ok.  Gotcha.  So, anyone of any sexual orientation who is unable to have children for any reason should just give up on the idea of being married.

Makes perfect sense to me!


The Bible says gay marriage is wrong.

The Bible also frowns upon eating shellfish and wearing two different cloths at the same time... and mentions having multiple wives... and concubines.  It doesn't actually mention same-sex marriage specifically, as I recall.

Don't get me wrong here.  I believe the Bible is a powerful tool and it contains so much that we should focus on to conduct our lives in a good and decent manner.

However...

While the Bible is the word of God, we need to remember that it was the word of God as interpreted by men who then wrote it down.  We're kind of a flawed bunch, if you didn't realize.  I don't think we should take every bit of the Bible literally.  Instead, take what is written and see the message or lesson it is conveying.

It is my firm belief that God made each and every one of us.  If he made people gay, doesn't it stand to reason that there is a purpose to that?  God doesn't make mistakes, after all.


The United States was based on the Bible and Christian beliefs.

Hmmm.  No.  Actually, the guys that drafted the Declaration of Independence (remember that thing?) came to this country and established it based upon being free to decide what religion you chose to follow.  They were tired of being forced to worship as someone else saw fit.  This country was founded upon the ideas that we could all choose to believe and worship (or to not worship) as we wished.

While a large number of people in the United States are Christian, we also have Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Taoist, Buddhist, atheist and agnostic people living here.  And, you know what?  That's what this country is about, in part.  The freedom to follow whatever religion or lack thereof that your heart desires.


I could go on forever, really.  It might be best to just stick with those few ideas for now.

I guess the long, rambly truth of it all is that we're all on this big, blue ball together.  We spend so much time trying to prevent people from doing what makes them happy for reasons that aren't even fully formed.  We spend so much time on it that we lose time we could be putting to better use.

Think about it for a minute.  Does it really affect you in any way beyond having an opinion?  No, it doesn't.  So, let's do what Jesus would want... love and respect your fellow man.  Don't pick up stones to chuck them at your neighbor when you have sin, yourself.  Judge not and all that.

It's not our place to lay down vengeance, after all. I think Someone Else has that bit covered. We should just be loving, peaceful and enjoying our own lives.


Rambling right along,
D

How Mommy learned to wear headphones...

When Pixie was younger (around two or three years old), we would blast music and dance all over the place.  The girl loved music.  She still does.  However, I didn't exactly think about some of the songs that were being played and certainly didn't censor them when she was out of the room.

I learned my lesson... the hard way.

One day after playing some games and getting a snack, we moved into the living room to settle down and just hang out with some quiet time, I thought.  Pixie had another idea, though.  In walked my daughter... my sweet, perfect little angel... bobbing her head and signing happily.

I paused a moment, because I was sure I misunderstood.

"What... did you just say, honey?"

"I sing!"

She bobbed her little head and sang it again.

"Choke me, spank me, pull my hair!"

GASP!!!!!

Why was Xzibit spewing out of my sweet little Pixie princess' mouth?

To say that I was horrified is an understatement.  I went into full internal meltdown mode.  Outwardly, cool as a cucumber. "Oh, honey?  Mommy doesn't really like that song anymore.  Let's sing something else, ok?"

Thank God she agreed and moved on to something more benign.  I managed to swallow down the panic attack that was coming.  I don't know why I didn't wear earphones before, but you can bet your sweet bippy I wore them from there on!

It was a lesson for me.  Even if she is out of the room, it doesn't mean she is out of earshot... and maybe Mommy shouldn't go without the ol' 'phones again.

I'm just glad I hadn't played any of the really raunchy songs I knew about then.  Whew!

Lesson learned,
D

In the beginning, there was chaos...

I get it.  There are a million mommy blogs out there.  Some are serious, some are hilarious (I'm looking at you, PIWTPITT).  Me?  I'm just a neurotic fumbling my way through it all.  I'm pretty sure I'm not alone here.

I've attempted blogs before... and have failed miserably!  It's not that I don't have the desire or ability.. it's just that I never seem to have the time to slap all of this down "on paper", if you will.  I'll do my best, but I fully expect to have gaps and lulls.  Just blame the kids. =o)

Where to begin...

I have two children at home and one with God.  My nine year old daughter is amazing.  Shy and sweet with a quick temper, sometimes. She is at that frustrating and infuriating-to-her age where she isn't quite a little girl anymore, but not exactly a pre-teen.  Oh, hormones.  How we love ya.  We are home schooling her, which has been quite an experience in itself.

We shall refer to her a Pixie here.

Our son, Monkey, is 15 months old... and he lives up to the Monkey nickname.  Silly and cheeky with no fear, this boy is going to have me running, for sure!  I am constantly trying to decide how to effectively bubble wrap him.  So far, no real solutions have popped up there... so, I am always on my toes.

I'm sure as we go, there will be a lot more to throw in here.  Unfortunately, time is short for things like this when the munchkins are up and moving.  In any case, hey!  How ya doin'?  Nice to meet ya!

Neurotically yours,
D

(Edited because... maybe it DID look like a penis.  You know who you are. lol)