It is the late sixties. A young Black girl in the South. She is about 5 or 6 and is wearing a blue flowered dress and black patent leather shoes with a strap across the top and white socks. The man she is with can't be seen clearly but he is White and in his mid to late 20's and he drives a light blue late 60's pickup truck. They are in a set of fields with trees at the end behind the truck. The truck is on a dirt path with a bank to the driver's side with hay on it and another field above. They are at the front of the truck. The man kills the girl, and may have raped her.

If anyone who might read this and recognize this story I would appreciate a response. Thanks.

"Then she was all dark hair, hands in fists, Nia's nose and mouth. She came to me so slow, it was just like somebody brushed the air witha feather." the first part last by Angela Johnson.

I just finished reading the book "the first part last." It is an absolutely incredible story. The book is a fairly quick read but definitely not light reading. Angela Johnson's book, which won the Michael Prinz Award for Excellence in Young Adult Literature, is the moving story of a teenage dad. The story alternates between then, when Bobby's girlfriend Nia was pregnant and now, after the baby is born. The book leaves the reader with the mixed feelings of sadness and joy as Bobby makes the decisions that he believes will benefit his daughter, Feather, the most. I recommend this thought provoking book for more mature 14 and 15 year-olds and older.

The dining room is finally finished and it looks great! I don't plan on doing any more remodeling myself until at least December. I had the Youth group over tonight to bake cookies and have pizza. They are really a great group of kids and their parents are nice too. I really need to allow myself to get to know someone before I judge them. One of the parents I thought was not very nice, but she is great! She is very supportive of her kids and very generous, in many different ways) to others. During the afternoon it was all girls and they talked about school and teachers and I feel like they are very open about things and it is like I am one of them. This is what I really wanted, something I have missed out on for many years, since, as the librarian, I don't see any students long enough to get to know them. The ideas that they have, how they feel, they're just great kids.


Just as a little disclaimer, anything that resembles poetry here is usually written when I am still mostly asleep and therefore, may seem pretty out there, but makes sense at 2 AM. I have gone 6 weeks on half of the Paxil dose and am doing ok. Some of the coping habits I have learned I am using. As a matter of fact, I think I need to brush up on them, in particular mindfulness and calming habits. I am having difficulty with one thing which might sound amusing, but after four days is not! Somewhere on the Web I read something about Trannies. Judging from the context I believe this refers to transexuals. But I now cannot get the term Trannie Annie out of my head. It just keeps rolling over and over again. I need something else, perhaps the song It's a Small World. Oh well-it was a busy day, but my house is cleaned, the lawn is mown and I am really beat.

Dreamless morning

try to catch the tails of the dreams but they slip from my grasp
dry hair, dry clothes, calm breathing
thankful for a dreamless morning
the dreams, which did occur, are already forgotten, never to haunt my waking hours
a blanket of crickets chirping intertwined with the chameleon call of a mockingbird.

And the dining room continues... What should have been a very easy room to redecorate has turned into a major project. We are now on day 5 of preparing trim. The previous owners made some of their own renovations, which have meant that my father and I have had to improvise to get everything to fit right and look good. I am hoping to be finished by the weekend. There have also been endless appointments-physical therapy for my shoulder, my psymd, therapist, hair, dentist, DS's orthodontist, psymd, therapist, dentist, the vet for one cat, Wednesday night at the movies, phone calls trying to get my grade from the course I finished on May 30, it seems endless. Along with that has been the addition of one to two or three extra boys here everyday. I'm glad DS is making friends but it makes it difficult to finish anything!
I am so tired, I just want to sleep and not dream-they are much too troublesome and I am constantly bothered by the memories of them. I am having trouble telling between dream life and real life.
Just got my hair chopped off. After having been so slim all my life I never had long hair-so went the meds added 50 lbs, I figured what the heck. It was almost halfway down my back, but I couldn't comb it wet anymore and often had to cut knots out. Now chin length it looks great and feels great. I am starting to dress better and make my appearance better-I really need to take care of myself physically to feel better mentally.
Well, I'm starving and need to paint (more....).

I don't know what's going on. I have been very confused the past few days, unable to find the right words to use, substituting other unrelated words and not even always realizing it. I can't really concentrate on one thing, never mind more than one. I have also had a couple bouts of uncontrollable shaking, both at night and just now. I never know who to call-my md or my psychmd. Now there are only 3 weeks left to summer and I feel like I haven't relaxed at all. The money will be very tight until the first week in September and I feel like I have not handled the money well this summer. I am caught up on most of my work for school and church, but I haven't even finished reading a single book or gone to the beach!

Well, last night was pretty wild. I had been doing very well, even cutting the Paxil dose in half. I got through the funeral alright and Sunday went well. But last night was a hell night. Nightmares all night-terrible horrifying ones, not I went to work with no clothes on, but nightmares involving maiming, killing, sick to my stomach ones. I can't remember them this time, which I haven't decided is good or bad, but thinking about them now turns my stomach. These were mixed in with what my psychmd calls "waking dreams." Others might call them hallucinations. I have had these for years even before I was diagnosed. Some are pleasant-beautiful flowers growing from the walls, some are horrible-individuals intent on harming me, my husband, or my son. Last nights were of the latter. I only remember one, it was a glowing, writhing, colorful knot at the end of the bed which I could not get by without getting hurt. I have a very good husband who helps me wake up and calm down. I don't usually tell others about these, because they might think I was really off my rocker. When I finally woke up this morning I was sick to my stomach with a headache and fever, I'm hoping it was all a result of the fever.

I recently discovered a website where sterling silver ribbon pins can be purchased. Wearing these help raise awareness of mental illnesses and how common they are. (1 out of every 5 Americans will be treated for a mental disorder this year-which means you probably know 1 or 2.) The website is Narsad Artworks.

Val,

You were truly a good person. Your fellow teachers respected and liked you. You had a connection with your students that is not often seen. I am glad that your pain and suffering are gone, but without you there is one fewer light shining. I pray that God may allow you to support and guide your children as they grow. We were honored to know you and work with and I can only hope that somewhere in my soul a small part of you remains to give the strength and dignity you had. Thank you.

Nights are always the difficult time. After having spent so many years as an insomniac and with the horrible nightmares when I did sleep, I am afraid to not fall asleep. I tried an experiment for the last three weeks by cutting the amount of Klonopin from 1mg to 1/2 mg, then to none. After three weeks not sleeping and having nightmares I gave up. When I went to see Dr. S. we decided we would cut the Paxil in half to 10 mg. So far no anxiety or panic attacks and I am still able to lay still (since I never actually sat still until 4 years ago, this is an important thing for me. But even though my body is quiet, my mind is racing. After seeing how it felt to not be thinking and speaking at 78 RPM, it is hard to go back there. I am tempted to take extra Klonopin to help me sleep.

I cannot decide whether I want to see behind the door of my dreams (nightmares.) The door to the room which makes me wake up screaming in a cold sweat or wakes me with the idea there is someone in our bedroom. I think sometimes I would be better if I knew what was behind there, but then I wonder because the thought of the room is so terrifying. Even during the day thoughts of it make my stomach turn and my heartbeat faster. Lately my dreams have been about being captured by other people and/or other creatures that look like humans. I try to escape and wake up in a cold sweat. All I want to do is go to sleep and not remember any of what I dreamt, good or bad.

The house, the room, the door
Always on the second floor, often in the attic
Once in the house I know it's there
Trying to avoid it, my path always leads to it.
What is behind the door?
Some memory of unspeakable things done to me?
The knowledge of witnessing a terrible event?
An incident that only a small child would find terrifying, that the child within me still fears?
The house, the room, the door,
Always on the second floor.

I just got back from watching I, Robot. It was fantastic! The special effects were great, the actors fit the roles well and the storyline itself was great. It brought up a lot of issues for discussion-racism, what makes an individual an individual, do emotions equate to life, what does make humans human? The kids thought it was great too. I would definitely this movie to anyone.

Another good day! We cleaned the garage, I cooked a unique dinner when our grill died. It came out pretty good. Leftovers tomorrow night. I also reconciled the checking accounts, one of the last items to do after the pocketbook theft. Last week I left my pocketbook in the back of my car for no more than three minutes in the middle of the day at a store with lots of people around and they smashed my window and took my purse. Wouldn't have been so bad if I hadn't had my palm in it with SplashId on it with no password because I was still working on it. So even though I keep no money and no credit cards in there, I still had to change everything. Oh well. Live and learn. My uncle recently died and I wrote this thank you to him.

Uncle,

I would like to thank you for all the things you taught me:

How to grow old gracefully and how to keep young by always trying new things.

How to always be a gentleman (woman) even when dealing with those who were not nearly as polite.

How to be kind and caring for the creatures God put on this earth as our companions, even when they might not be so gentle.

How to realize that I was capable of doing anything I put my mind to, as long as I was willing to take a risk.

How to tell a good story and how to listen to one told by a teller far less gifted.

How to maintain your dignity even when you lose a good engine and everyone is saying “I told you so!”

How to share your home and life so others could enjoy them as much as you.

How to love and teach children, no matter how many there were, even when none were “yours.”

Today was a great day! The weather was warm and breezy, BH was away at a muster, DS was at Boy Scouts.
I did three loads of laundry
The dishes
Clean, dusted, and vacuumed my entire office
Got all my paperwork in order.

I have now cut down on the Klonopin from 1mg to 0.5mg for one week. There have been difficult dreams/nightmares every night and I am not sure if it is related to the medication. I really have enjoyed a couple of months with no nightmares. I'll keep trying a bit and see how it goes.

Pysch, Part X

I ended my journal 4 years ago because my life was turned upside down when I learned that our landlord was selling the house we rented and we had to find a house and move within three weeks. BH. was unable to help since he was on active duty during the move, so basically my parents and T. and S. helped me. By the end of the summer things were getting under control and I had gotten out of the habit of journaling and didn't pick it up again until now. It has now been almost a year and half since I cut. This was a major triumph for me. I still go at least monthly to see a therapist (more often when things get rough-one of my older sisters had breast cancer and is undergoing chemo, one of my uncles fell into complete dementia and passed away two weeks ago, DS's spring at school was a total disaster between trying to find meds that worked as well as the Ritalin did, but wouldn't make him lose weight, and the budget crisis at work). I have been able to get a better view of life in general and I can deal with everyday upsets in a mostly calm and less insane way. While I still take five different meds-Seroquel, Klonopin, Paxil, Pamelor, and Strattera-I am starting to cut back on some of them slowly because I feel that I actually can do this.

After having read my journal I realize that it sounds like I am all doped up all the time. I am less hyper but just as active as I was before I was hospitalized. DS is now 12 and very active in sports and friends, I still work full-time, I work with the youth at our church, serve on the vestry, and have just completed 30 credit hours, which will either become a Sixth year Certificate in education or will be rolled into a PhD. program. I was always one of those parents who said that my child would never be on medication for his ADHD. After experiencing the difference the right medication can make, I have fought hard to get DS treated. I don't want him to end up in the same place I was four years ago.

I hide my mental illness less than I used to. I believe that there are few people out there who realize just how many people they know who have a mental illness they hide. These are people from all walks of life who rely on medication to keep the chemical balance in their brains. That is possibly one of the biggest pet peeves I have-a mental illness is like diabetes, which is also a chemical imbalance-and people need to realize this and not believe it is all made up or for attention. I lived for 30 years with horrible nightmares on sometimes a daily basis without ever telling anyone because I thought it was normal. I also have hidden my self-mutilation as best I could.

The only other thing I have to say is that my belief in God has grown stronger over the past few years. Four years ago I went to church on a Wednesday night for a healing service. I had my suicide planned for the following Tuesday. I spent nearly three hours in church crying and begging God for help, but I thought I was asking to help me commit suicide. The next day, Thursday, I had my first appointment with a psychiatrist and was admitted immediately after that. At the time I was angry because my prayers were not answered. I now realize God did answer my prayer and that is why I am still here today, enjoying my family and working hard to maintain my health as it is. Whatever you may call that being-(s)he is there!

I strongly believe that when we get things easily we don't fully appreciate them. The following Muslim poem sums it up for me:

I asked for Strength...
and Allah gave me Difficulties to make me strong.

I asked for Wisdom...
and Allah gave me Problems to solve.

I asked for Prosperity...
and Allah gave me Brain and Brawn to work.

I asked for Courage...
and Allah gave me Danger to overcome.

I asked for Love...
and Allah gave me Troubled People to help.

I asked for Favours...
and Allah gave me Opportunities

I received nothing I wanted, Yet, I received everything I needed.

My Prayere has been answered.