Guest Post-Patty Valentine

Welcome to Wednesday's Women of Wisdom. Today's guest post is by Patty Valentine, who in addition to having a very cute name, has a big heart and amazing story of survival. I met Patty on a mutual online support group and I can attest to the kindness and empathy she has provided to others. Here is her story.
My Bio, What do I want to be when I grow up?
By Patty Valentine

My life was complicated right from the start, at conception really, as my mother was 13 yrs old and living in Alabama with an alcoholic father and a mother who had been in and out of her life since she was 6. Starting at that age, she was responsible for taking care of her brother and sister, cooking, cleaning, etc. Her mother had tried to force her to "terminate" me twice, even taping her to a bed while she fought, but she wouldn't have it. I was born 2 wks before her 14th birthday. She did the best she could to take care of me and moved to Texas with her mother, but eventually her mother "won out" when, at 2 1/2, she left me with some "friends", abandoned me really, and told my mother I was stolen. I was eventually adopted by a nice family down the street from the people I'd been left with. I remember very early times, like my 3rd birthday but nothing of my mother from that time. My new family was full of love and kids. I had 3 brothers and 3 sisters. My new mother always told me I was special because they had chosen me. They weren't looking to adopt, like I said they already had a bunch of kids, but because of my circumstances, they wanted to keep me. I had a pretty good childhood overall, but I did have one teenage brother who sexually abused me a few times. I had pretty much tucked that little memory away though, thinking I'd done something "naughty".
My teenage years were difficult, and although I was a strait A student, cheerleader, gymnast, etc, I never felt like I really fit in...not in my family or with my peers. Once in high school, I quickly took up drinking, drugs and promiscuity....and Nightlife! Dallas was the place to be in the 80's as far as the club scene and I fell deep into that scene...of fashion, music, and most of all more drugs. In fact, there are currently 2 documentary movies in the works about the Starck club where they sold ecstacy at the bar (that is until they made it illegal)....the "Studio 54 of the 80's", designed by Phillipe Starck and investors such as Stevie Nicks and Grace Jones. It was the place to be...where anyone who was famous went when they were in Dallas. I thought I was really something...I could walk in past the velvet ropes while other people would wait on those stairs all night trying to get in, and if they were deemed cool enough, they could pay the $10 cover to get in. We'd be up from Wed thru Sun, living on pills and powder, and the occasional little pieces of paper that made everything more colorful. ;) I've recently reconnected with these friends on FB and reunions are being planned...actually, I've already missed one. It was in Jan, and being on tx, I was too sick to go. It has become another place for me to share and talk about hep c and educate and advocate which is good. We all know people who have passed, from drugs, aids, suicide, etc, so there is no judgment there.
Eventually, the scene started to fade, I became restless, and I wanted more. So, me and a friend just up and hopped on a Greyhound bus to LA during the summer of '89. My dad gave me $50 and said "you'll be back". Well, I was gonna show him, and I didn't come back! I really hated LA, where I suffered a couple rapes, and after about 3 months, some people told me "Go to San Francisco. You'll love it there!" and I did. Although I had experimented with the needle a few times in Dallas, SF is where my love affair with it really developed. This was a completely different and exciting scene than the one I'd come from. My "friend" left me there a couple weeks after the earthquake in '89 and I took up with the street punks and met my first husband. He had a big mohawk, sold drugs, and was crazier than anyone I'd ever met...certifiably crazy, but that was the allure after all. We lived in hotels when we had money and squatted when we didn't. Eventually, the habit grew and I took up dancing to pay for it all while he sat at home and waited for me to bring his fix. Occasionally, he'd "disappear" for days on end, not remembering where he'd been. He was manic-depressive and told me that I saved him and if I left, he'd kill himself. He was a cutter, so I believed this. After a couple yrs of this, I knew if I didn't get out of SF, I'd die there, so when the opportunity came up to dance in a club in Hawaii, I took it! We both went "cold turkey" off heroin in Hawaii, while each night I had to go dance. Once my head was clear again, I told him to go away, because I knew if we'd stayed together, we'd be using again before too long. Besides, there were lots of cute military guys there ;-)
I ran so far from my past at first by joining the Air Force at 25 and was stationed in Las Vegas. It was now 1994. Within that 1st yr, I met my husband and became pregnant with my 1st child. My husband was/is pretty much completely opposite of me and didn't have the same kind of past experiences, but was strangely fascinated by and not turned off by my past. He had joined the AF straight out of high school. This kept me grounded, although we did party/drink alot. We were married when my daughter was 7 mos old, then I was soon pregnant with our 2nd daughter. She came when my 1st was 19 mos. He was constantly back and forth between "home", and "the Desert"...Saudi, Kuwait, Turkey, etc, protecting the "no-fly" zones during the 90's, between the 1st and 2nd Gulf wars since, at the time, his job was to load and maintain the bombs and weapon systems on the fighter jets. My military "career" which was Medical Admin, stopped at 4 yrs while his continued. I had messed up my back pretty bad while in training though, so within a yr of leaving the AF, I had my 1st back surgery. Then before the end of that year, we got orders to our 1st choice of overseas bases...Aviano, Italy! Perfect! After 5 yrs in Vegas, I was beginning to get "bored" and was ready for a new adventure, and there couldn't have been a more perfect place!
We moved to Italy at the end of '98 and shortly after, the whole Kosovo situation started up, and Aviano was the center of that conflict...at least that's where all the NATO troops were flying their missions out of. It was strange to think that during the day, my husband was loading live bombs onto planes, then coming home at night for dinner, putting the kids to bed, etc. Anyway, that passed over pretty quickly, and he went back to the desert a couple times. I can safely say that the 3 yrs in Italy were the best, happiest yrs of my life. I had 2 beautiful little girls was newly married, and living in Italy of all places. I was still able to be spontaneous, as we could just wake up Sat morning, and think, "Let's go somewhere...Ok, Austria's only a couple hours, let's go there!"...or Venice (1 hr), Florence (4 hrs), Verona (2 hrs), Rome (hop on a plane in Venice and you're there in about an hr). One weekend we went to Pisa and camped near the beach...we did alot of camping in Italy actually. We were 45 min from the Adriatic, Italian beaches in the summer, and at the base of a mountain where we could go ski, sledding, etc in the winter. I didn't get bored there. Unfortunately, though, my back wasn't holding up very well, and in 2000, I had to be "aerovacked" to Walter Reed Army Hosp in DC for my 2nd surgery. They had to bring my husband back early from Kuwait so I could go. Anyway, that surgery wasn't successful either and I was becoming more and more dependent on pain meds. My husband decided to go into recruiting then, so he wouldn't be sent away anymore. He completed recruiting school in July of 2001...right before 9/11. We really lucked out on that one. He would've been gone for sure if he'd still been loading bombs.
Next, we moved back to Dallas, which was where I was from, so it was like going home for a few yrs. It had been almost 12 yrs since I'd left Dallas. He was recruiting at the high schools there, so we weren't at a base at all. Within the next 2 yrs, I had 3 more unsuccessful back surgeries, including a double fusion and spiraled into chronic pain and major depression. The drs had be on so many meds, I didn't know what was going on half the time. Here is where I learned I have hepatitis C, and although I was upset, not knowing much about it, I just thought "Thank god it's not aids" and went on about my life. Also during this time, I found and started a relationship with my birth mother who had "lost" me and thought I was dead. Having 2 little girls also brought up memories of the sexual abuse I'd suffered when I was around 5 yrs old, so things started getting really dark and gloomy. I even spent a month in an inpatient facility during this time to deal with my past traumas...sexual abuse, rapes, etc that I had always blamed myself for.
I eventually ended up isolating myself, depressed and unable to make any "real" new friends. I think I felt trapped in the role of housewife/Mom, unable to relate to the other women I met. I couldn't understand those who were content to just be the "keeper of the house". Not that I don't enjoy being a mother, I do, but it became so constricting. No longer could I just pick up and move whenever I felt like it, and even worse, I was forced to live in Alabama for 4 yrs which is where the AF moved us to next. I started fantasizing about going back to San Fran and heroin, where I had fought so hard to leave, and just leaving everyone there. Of course, I didn't, but it was a real fantasy. I guess I really shouldn't complain too much, most of the people in Alabama have never left the state, which brings me back to why I couldn't relate to anyone.
I've lived in and traveled to places all over the world, and I experienced more in my first 30 yrs of life than most people do in their entire lifetime...good and bad. How could I relate to these "simple" people, content to live in the country where Walmart was the center of everything, driving the kids around, cooking, cleaning, etc. All most people cared about was if you like Auburn or Alabama and Nascar...ick! Most people hunted went “mudding”, and camo was in fashion even with the teens. My kids didn’t “fit in” there either, and were called “weird”. Even at their young ages, they’d experienced more than most people there. The nearest "big" city was 30 min away in Montgomery, which btw, is NOT a big city at all, but just the closest place with a mall. I lost myself there and now that I'm in FL and going through this tx, I'm trying to find myself again. My husband will retire soon and he's looking into new careers. We've had our problems, but somehow we've kept it together. It is still a work in progress though. My daughters are teenagers and have been and still are challenging. My older daughter was raped by a “friend’s” dad from the church in AL at 13. She is also bipolar with zero impulse control, and my baby...14 yrs old, is pregnant and due to have her baby in May. My tx will be done in April, so starts a new chapter in my life. I know I'll always have to contend with the chronic back pain that has disabled me and was the beginning of my slide into depression to begin with, but who am I? Who do I want to be, what do I want to be when I grow up? I just turned 43, and I still don't feel like a grown-up, yet I'm going to be a grandmother!












© 2011 Nanakoosa’s Place, authored by Jennifer Hazard

Getting to know you...(Me)

I hope anyone has had time to look over and consider the practices for familiarizing ourselves with our emotions. It's not something that can be done in a finite amount of time, and I don't know if we ever reach the "finish line'. Rather it's an ongoing process, just like developing any other relationship. I believe it is well worth the effort, essential really, if we are to truly become the best and brightest we can be. In this process, we become an inspiration, source of support and a good friend to others. It's amazing how once we stop trying to live up to the standards of others and refuse to allow them to dictate how we should feel, think and act, we begin to attract people into our lives who respect and love us for who we are. After all if we don't know ourselves, if we become social chameleons, how can we expect anyone to get close? It's ironic that we wear these masks; we take on these roles that don't fit all because we want other people to like us. Somehow we got the idea, the fear, that if people knew who we really are, they would run screaming in the other direction. And why do we have this idea? Because we are not so sure WE like ourselves, therefore why would anyone else?

After becoming more familiar and hopefully comfortable with our feelings, we can start to take stock of what things elicit certain feelings. Part of that is looking at what makes us happy. It may be the simplest thing, like seeing a snowflake up close, tending to a garden. It may be that we have favorite books, movies or music that speaks to something deep inside in a way no one else can. Sometimes it helps to remember your childhood dreams, fantasies and favorite activities. By rediscovering the things that capture our interest and that bring us joy, we begin to remember who we are.

Anyone who has been through a controlling relationship, drug/alcohol abuse or has endured deep depression knows the loneliness and grief at losing one’s self. It's like having had a friend once and now she's gone. 

The good news is, a true friendship always holds a spark that with proper tending can be rekindled to a flame that will guide us out of the darkness.

Rekindle that flame. Indulge yourself in something that brings you joy. You may be surprised at what a good friend you make.

Peace,

Nana

© 2010 Nanakoosa’s Place, authored by Jennifer Hazard

Gratitude-the Original Thanksgiving Message.

Nanakooa's Healing Place In the midst of the trends of family pressure, the expectation of the "perfect meal" and media invasion (Black Friday Sales) let's remember the origin of this day, Gratitude for a bountiful harvest and for generous help of others; without these we cannot survive.

I am fortunate to be surrounded by people who embrace the concept of Thanksgiving as a day of Gratitude. I have seen and heard many expressions of Thankfulness and Appreciation, mostly for the non-material gifts in life. Of course having such wonderful people in my life this doesn't happen by accident or pure luck. I've been thinking and writing about personal choice lately after realizing that, as a learned response to being victimized, I had accepted a sense of powerlessness. I believed I was at the mercy of my environment and other people who would choose to manipulate that environment. Life was something that happened to me and it was my job (I thought) to just buck up and make the best of things. Naturally this world view does little to inspire gratitude or hope and it tends to attract people and situations that do not serve our best interests. I remember being surrounded by people who could only focus on the negative aspects of Holidays; having to be with family they don't get along with, pressuring themselves to have the "perfect" meal and getting up at 3 am the next day to be pushed and shoved around by rabid shoppers vying for 10 dollar microwaves. These individuals, whether they had been victimized in the traditional sense of not, obviously were operating with the same blueprint I was. They allowed themselves to be controlled by whatever expectations family or society or the media had dealt them, and they tried to make the best of it. Making the best of something that is not authentically your desire is hard work, it's exhausting and in the end we are usually dissatisfied with the results in on way or another. Unfortunately many people never consider that they have options, that they have the power of choice.
Eventually we realize that if we make choices that are aligned with our values and desires the world won't fall apart, that everyone we love will not abandon us (although some may be pissed off!) nor will any other of the fears that keep us from being true to ourselves will manifest. Once we reach this point we are able to create Holiday traditions that express the best intentions of celebration.
I frequently make gratitude lists, it's something I learned I AODA treatment and it has become an important element in my road to recovery. It helps me to maintain perspective and it helps me to know myself, what makes me grow and what brings me happiness. By clarifying all these elements I find it easier to make goals, to set intentions to plan and work for toward creating the kind of lifestyle that suits my individual needs and desires. I hope that at least this one day of thanks can help others do the same.

One last side note, we often see this holiday as the beginning of the White mans genocide of the Native Americans. While I have both native and puritan ancestry, I believe that at this point there was harmony between the two cultures. Each lived simply from the earth and respected the gifts the earth gave in return. It wasn't until investors, profit seekers and big business discovered the settlers could be manipulated and used to serve their own greed did things start to go bad. It is the same greed and profiteering that ruins so many peoples 4 day weekends with the repeated messages about Black Friday. Sure consumers are getting some "good deals" comparatively speaking, but the wealthy are sitting back, enjoying whatever it is they enjoy on their day off and raking in huge profits. I prefer not to give them the satisfaction, because that's my choice.
Have a Blessed and Grateful day,
Peace,
Jenny

 © 2010 Nanakoosa’s Place, authored by Jennifer Hazard

It is what it is, and that's all that it is.

I don't know if it's the Ribavirin making me  crabby or what (there is such a thing known as 'riba rage') but I've recently become irritated at phrases like 'Healing Journey" or "Self-Discovery". But wait you say, isn't that what this blog is all about, Jenny? Well, yes, and no.
First of all as I've contemplated Life, and Misfortune, and Happiness and Growth and All That We Are it has struck me that many of the phrases we use imply some sort of ending to the process. Some sort of goal...to be, what Healed ? Then what? What does that even look like? And worse yet are we selling our selves short by not being at some point of healing that we think we should be.
Part of this problem has to do with linear thinking. We are not to blame for that, it's the way we've been raised in our culture to perceive time, and movement and growth. Fact is, we really don't understand much about any of those things. I'm no expert on quantum physics, it fascinates me but makes my brain hurt, but I'm pretty sure the "way of the Universe" is not linear. And neither are our lives. I've talked before about healing happening in layers and stages, but that still implies some sort of final destination, to some kind of core truth. Maybe that's enlightenment. But I'm not so sure even Enlightenment happens all at once, unless perhaps when we die.
I've mentioned before that I'm somewhat changing my tone, my approach, to this blog and my goals in general. It's been almost a year since I've been out of work, out of the field of "Helping" with their strict definitions of  "what works", what "sucess" looks like, and what it doesn't and their quest for "Evidence Based Practices".  When I reflect on my original goal, it is to bring a little more Real Life into the services and systems that are designed to help people. One of the finest Therapists I ever worked with used to say "it is what it is" any time a client would lament her situation, especially if she were condemning herself. So yeah it is what it is, if it's "progress" ie learning to make healthier choices for ourselves, or choices that are more in sync with what we believe in and value. If it's making a mistake, even though we've made the same mistake before. It all part of the process of life.
So for my own self respect, and contribution to my creative abilities, I am going to throw out the psychobabble, I'm going to tell it like it is. I might even swear, damnit,
As the Great Journalist/Commentator Walter Cronkite concluded his evening broadcast, "And that's the way it is"

© 2010 Nanakoosa’s Place, authored by Jennifer Hazard

I saw this quote this morning and felt it spoke to my thoughts in this post :)  Thank you, Julia and Wayne!
Julia von Flotow Via Wayne McGuire - "The Universe has no edge and the centre is everywhere."

Wishing everyone a peaceful weekend!

Why This Blog?

Why this blog? As a professional who has worked with women survivors of all ages I have found there is a considerable “service gap” on two key points: Older women (over 40) and survivors who are years beyond the initial healing phase. My intention for this blog is for women to help fill that gap by sharing thoughts and wisdom about healing, growing older and the issues that we women face in our growth process. I will provide my own experiences, knowledge and hopefully a little humor to encourage other women on their path of self discovery. It is those of us who have walked the path that know the roadmaps, the obstacles, shortcuts and scenic views. So why do these gaps exist? First there is the age factor. It’s easy to confirm that we do live in a youth centered culture. Unlike other cultures that value the wisdom of the elders our society is all about being young, sleek and fast paced. I once heard a women say that middle aged women can get away with anything because we are invisible. I’m not advocating for us to try to “get away with things” but she makes a valid point that is worth examination. Middle aged and mature women are not the ones that get noticed in many arenas, and yet so many women of our age are accomplishing great things. When we do get media attention and become “visible” we are often scrutinized for superficial qualities like our hair of our wardrobe. How often did you hear news commentators or other media representatives focus on what Hillary Clinton or Michelle Obama were wearing? I am optimistic that we women can change society’s view (or lack of view) of us. We have increasingly more efficient and accessible means of communicating and connecting with each other. We can share our stories and through our stories we share our strength and define our roles. This is especially important for those of us who have been addicted, abused, impoverished and otherwise disenfranchised. The second “service gap” is recognizing the long term needs of women in recovery from addiction or abuse. There are many agencies and organizations dedicated to helping women get out of abusive situations or to recover from addiction (many of these were brought about by women working together) but they tend to focus on the earlier stages of recovery and healing. I have discovered through my own process that the old adage “recovery is like peeling the layers of an onion” is an accurate metaphor. Healing is not linear; it happens in cycles and stages and sometimes slides backward. We learn to live more fulfilling, healthy, “normal” lives, but we carry scars that never really go away. Just as being victimized affected every area of our lives, healing must occur in every area. Sometimes we get one area “fixed” and are feeling pretty good about ourselves, only to have another issue arise. You finally land that great career only to end up meeting someone, falling in love and your fear of intimacy pops up. These are the times that make us vulnerable, that make us fall back into old patterns of self doubt. These are the times we need each other. So that’s why I’m doing this blog, to fill the gaps, to tell the stories and to honor the strength and wisdom that we have earned.