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Consumer 6
Consumer 6
Posts: 600
Joined: Fri Sep 02, 2005 3:26 am
Blog: View Blog (8)
- April 2012
My Daughter
   Fri Apr 13, 2012 6:28 am
My OCD...How I got there and what it means part III
   Wed Apr 11, 2012 9:27 am
MY OCD... How I got there... and what it means II
   Wed Apr 11, 2012 8:50 am
My OCD and what it means... and how I got there... part I
   Wed Apr 11, 2012 8:03 am

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My Daughter

Permanent Linkby Entangled on Fri Apr 13, 2012 6:28 am

I mentioned my daughter.

Born of me and a woman named Cindy, she came out of her mom's womb and...

She hated every minute of it!

She cried bloody murder! This was not something she wanted... She was crying before she went through the birth cannal. If I could have taken away from the doctor I would have becasue shew was not looking very happy!

Even before she was out of the birth canal...she began to cry. Her first cry. I remember that cry. It had a destinctive rhythm to it. It was a rhythm that was so familiar. Did I cry like that? No. It's her cry... but, it's so familiar...

Then, I knew exactly what was going on. I either allowed myself or it was something so natural that I would know that cry forever. And her cry... even when she was much older had this distinctive rhythm. Wow! It suddenly dawned on me that that cry would be known for the rest of my life! She could be an adult and cryng and I would know that cry! Even out of a hundred crying babies I would be able to locate her... find her...

I started thinking? Wait a minute? Isn't this something that mothers find? It needed no answer. I knew my baby daughter's cry. Something special was happening to me... and I could feel in my bones that this was completely and utterly right!

She basicall thrown on Mom... to smell her... VIcky's voice exploding in anger frustration, fear... and all I could feel was... That's my daughter! If any of you hurt her in anyway...I will kill you!!

As I was thinking that, she was taken to the nurses who put her on a stainless steel platform with a giat heat light to get her warm. The first thing I thought was when I worked at a fast food place... and maybe I should never worked there becasue she looked like a basket of fries... to be dealed up to the next customer... as she was crying as loud as should could!

"Vicky is not a giant batch fries to be salted and given to the next hungry mouth that comes by. That's my daughter, your divying up!"

She was placed on this stainless steel thing with the heat lamp and they washed her and put junk in her eyes... "And, that cry was saying Daddy get me out of here!"

It took all of my restraint to keep from killing each nurse one by one and all the interesting torture devices... like taking them one by one, tying their hair and pulling up off the ground agony... and that merciful thing I could think of!

Then... the blood test! No! No! Not sticky thing? Look for the vain with needle and draw blood not that... OUCH! Have you ever had to stick your fingers with one of those things to get a drop of blood? (OK. Diabetics look at that type of thing and see that like as nothing more than pushing a button on a stereo to get their favorite song... but, in the knee of Victoria? The rack for all the nurses... stowly torturing them... confessions... who cares... who cares...torture

She was screaming! I knew the scream... no parent had to interpret it! "I don't like this!"

Then after first torturous bath... (no wonder I alway am hesitant to go in a hot water bath at first,) she was wrapped in blankits. She seemed to like that... but her face was, That's nice...But I hate this... And then the moment came!

You have to understand that her Mom was exhausted. Just a short few moments on top of her and she was wisked away... a hard pregnancy... but, they told me how to hold her and I held her so she could see me.

Silence. Absolute silence.

I looked down upon my little baby girl. Just not any baby, but, you see I wished for a girl. I never saw one grow up. My sister who moved out when I was 5... gone. My best a dependable friend, a girl, who never lived with me, though she like an adopted sister. A little girl to actually see grow up. See her explore the world, start talking as she walked and would keep talking a running... never stopping... a girl to run around the house pretending I was a monster. A girl who I could actually try my best...

[ Continued ]

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My OCD...How I got there and what it means part III

Permanent Linkby Entangled on Wed Apr 11, 2012 9:27 am

So... Throughout my childhood. I learned to to try to meet up to my Mother's expectations. It meant, not only should I be a great in society... which, believe it or not, was never really defined by either my Dad or Mom... what that was really supposed to be... but, one thing was clear..?

You better be perfect, or you get punished.

As I went into my later years, things changed. I started staying in my room. Since my Sister/aunt moved out, I inherited her room... and once a iconic piece of no disturbance, my early teen years said that was enough.

7th grade was apon me. And you would expect, I was a "holy" terror for my mother. My room became my room. I would go there and listen to music... and, do that same old ritual of "roling" I had told you before, just to calm me down. MY Mother had a cow... My Dad just sat there... but there was no stopping me... my room.

Yes, I would come home and everything was so tidy that, I trouble finding things myself... but, MY ROOM. and it becasme my room. ANd, something happened that changed me so much. I used to listen to my family radio.. not the stereo... but this little radio. I would him and haw for my Mom to put it on and I would listen to it.. doing that "roling" ritual on the floor until she finally gave up and said... fine!"

"Phil? Would like to have this radio in your room?" Yes, I got it and I "rolled" on floor in bedroom, since I was not allowed on the bed... until I got on it in 7th grade and listened to albums and radio and "rolled" on the bed.

"Rolling." OCD. A ritual that brings down anxiety. As move back and forth shifting my body on my shoulder bake and forth, I do itm to a rhythm. A specific rhythm... kind of like a dance of sorts... bringing down anxiety... as I keep doing it. All OCD sufferers have ritual. That is mine. I get anxious, I have an overwhelming sensation to do that... even now!

So, ending on part three.. maybe I will put more down... but this is the basics. I am bizzare... with an OCD ritual and a never ending quest for perfection to make you like me! Which I have to deal with... yet, I have learned you can't please everyone? Right? You can't make everyone like you no matter what you say? Right? No matter what you do, no matter what you try... or second guess... your boss... who can fire you at a whim... and that knowledge makes you work harder until you burn out... to a point where you throw up in the bathroom from extreme fear? Every appointment with a someone of authority? Anyone... terrified and holding it in? KNowng your life will be lonely.

Seeing your marriage die because of it... and the one thing that makes your life worth while, a daughter, a beautiful human being that holds all that is dear to a man, for she will become a woman, sensual, sexy and yours to bring up, to give advice about those men she will see, helping her to understand and being that positive male role model so when she finds that sexiness, she finds a great man, who you look over and say, "Now this might be a great man for my daughter." And, give in a great marriage... where you are crying and sad and proud at the same time... to see proudly bring you lovely precious daughter to a man you can call you SON... and grandkids... knowing you nurtured her since she was so small... to preteen years, where she says... why do I like guys now, and help her understand, and show her... she is an attractive young woman... and show her that she deserves everything she wants in a young man she finds... and see this happen...

But, you missed it all. Because of curcumstances you can't control... just imagining all of it... as your daughter is that age... and realize it's gone... And it's gone. Watching the little girls skipping down the street, with there parents... ready to take everything on... reminding you... urging your Fatherly heart to just say something?

So many fathers...

[ Continued ]

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MY OCD... How I got there... and what it means II

Permanent Linkby Entangled on Wed Apr 11, 2012 8:50 am

I was born when my parents moved to Villa Park.. 20 miles away from Chicago... on some street...

MY parents and my Sister were already having problems. My Sister loved my Dad.. Daddies girl... and she hated her Mom... so OCD like and never giving her a break. My Father always stood up for her and she had an advocate.

MY sister had a bunny rabbit.. don't know it's name... just that it had a cage and a place, a tiny little dwelling that you could put straw in for the winter and it would live there thoughout the seasons. My Dad was into tools... and carving... making things for her. When ever there was an arguement Dad was there for her... for my Sister.

When My Dad died she was heart broken and told me that she wished it was my Mom who had died... not Dad. A life I never knew... on That Melrose Park Road somewhere...

At thirteen after a short stay on some street... They moved to a street called Myrtle... in Villa Park... and that was where my life really began. At two years old... I was taken to a bigger house.

On Murtle...

Everything was basically OK. I was a hyper kid, full of energy... but at two years old I developed something different than most kids. I would rock myself to sleep in my crib. Bottle fed, with not much holding according to my 13 year old Sister, I learned to quiet myself by rocking back and forth, lying on my side shifting my shoulders making my had role back and forth. ANd when I grew to be to big for my crib... I did that before I slept... on the floor anywhere I could find.

They took me to a psychiatrist. "OH, he is intellegent! He needs more stimuli. Just give him toys he can put together." I liked that... not only did I put things together... I took everything around me apart... like stove... the washing machine and anything I could find.. and did this thing I call "rolling." Lie on your side and just keep rocking your shoulders with your head back and forth repeating the same tune notes over and over. (I remember those notes...)

Then, my 13 year old sister left home. She couldn't take it anymore with my over controlling Mother, feeling so sad for my Dad, Having a child... which really pissed them off... my dear nephew... who I love like a dear brother...

I remember... listenening to Hermits Hermits, and the Beatles in "her" room, dancing with her to dances of the sixties... the conversations in my little nursery (5 year old cell) where my sister and I would talk through a grate... a heating duct that supplied heat to both are room, but was a straight shoot from my little room to hers.. talking... just talking... hoping Mom would not here, until she yelled at us to be quite... and that was over... my sister... no longer a sister but now a distant aunt type person...

I was now alone.

MY life consisted of this. My Father? A person who sat in his chair.. reading a paper. If I said something I would get an answer... no iddle chit chat... not like my sister. But, my Mom, full of chit-chat. And... it was all discipline. Nothing else. My advocate was my Mother.

My Mother had a rules.. Really two rules for bringing me up.

The second rule was to be a good man.
The first rule was to be an extension of my Mother's ideas.

My Mothers ideas. Always please the neighbors! First order of business. The neighbors must see you as my perfect child... I don't want any neighbors to come to me and say you have done anything wrong. This is the cardinal rule. So, you must be better than any onther kids.

1. If the kids stay out to late... you come in much earlier.
2. If the kids go into others yards... you better not be with them
3. If I say kid is bad... you will never associate with them
4. No matter how I feel... headache, upset or anything that makes me in a foul mood, shut up!
5. Children Should be seen not heard.
6. Children only belong in the places I specify. The basement in the corner over there, or the den... bedrooms are made for sleeping, and people...

[ Continued ]

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My OCD and what it means... and how I got there... part I

Permanent Linkby Entangled on Wed Apr 11, 2012 8:03 am

One of the things on my blog is that I don't really think I ever told you about my own psychological problems.

I think that is important:

I was born anxious. The world a cruel place and never forgiving...and if you are not aware or not ontop of it... it will kill you... so you better be watching... or you will lose your livelyhood, your home, your food and die on some lonely street... that's how I feel!

There are two sides to my life.

One is the nurturing side:
And the other terrified side:

Both crept up at me at the same time. I am a poster on this site. I give advice to people who are in pain and need answerers... but, I do seldom ever say my own problems... becasue I was taught it was a weekness... because if they know about it... that could harm you and be on that lonely street.

My mother was OCD... and anxious. I could tell she was. But, she had no idea what that was or never wanted to tell me out of her fear of weakness. A war bride from England, she came over a year later from marriage in England to my Dad in a whole new land... and, on the Queen Mary she came to America, leaving her home and all she knew to be with a man she met on some base during WWII. I could just imagine how scared she was...

My father picked her up at Elis Island and brought her home, trekking her across New York all the way across the states to Chicago. This was to be her new home. Now, according to my Mother, she was completely REJECTED by my Grandmother saying, "He could have done much better than you!"

When you ask your mom why you hurt by her, and she has no choice but to tell you why she did what she did, she will tell you what happened to her... so the truth that I never knew as a childd came out. "You were not good enough."

Imagine being a woman. Falling in love with a man from a foreign country. Sailing across the ocian on a two month journey and taking a rail-ride from New York to Chicago... just to find you were not Welcome? I heard that from my Mom and my draw dropped.

So, she did what she could living in my Fathers house. She cleaned. She cleaned everything as best she could, never good enough for a woman who gave birth to my father. And, then it happened. They had a daughter, Cheryl! My older sister.

They saved pennies and moved to a suburb called Melrose Park, which is 10 miles or so from the city limits, finally away from my Grandmother. But, my Mom was a festidious house cleaner. She was worried about the nwighbors and what they might think of the place... and had a lasting impression on this time of my family's house. everything needed to be just so... yet, I was not even born yet!

That would change...

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Why the name Entangled?

Permanent Linkby Entangled on Mon Mar 26, 2012 12:46 am

Why would a guy want to be called "Entangled?"

Its a song.

"When you're asleep and they show you
Aerial views of the ground,
Freudian slumber empty of sound.

Over the roof tops and houses,
Lost as it tries to be seen,
Fields of incentive covered with green.

Mesmerized children are playing,
Meant to be seen and not heard.
"Stop me from dreaming!"
"Don't be absurd!"

Well... if we can help you we will.
You're looking tired and ill.
As I count backwards
Your eyes become heavier still.
Sleep... won't you allow yourself fall?
Nothing can hurt you at all.
With your consent
I can experiment further still."

Madrigal music is playing.
Voices can faintly be heard,
"Please leave this patient undisturbed"

Sentenced to drift far away now,
Nothing is quite what it seems,
Sometimes entangled in your own dreams.

"Well... if we can help you we will,
Soon as you're tired and ill,
With your consent
We can experiment further still.

Well... thanks to your kindness and skill
You'll have no trouble until
You catch your breath
And the nurse will present you the BILL!"

The song is from "Genesis," from their cool progressive theatrical stuff

Credits... copyright...

1976 Hackett/ Banks

"Genesis," Album "Trick of The Tail" Credit given to the band...

:D :D :D

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