Bullying is a form of abuse. Stop the abuse!

BULLYING IS A FORM OF ABUSE. STOP THE ABUSE. According to http://www.bullyonline.org, "Bullying is persistent unwelcome behaviour, mostly using unwarranted or invalid criticism, nit-picking, fault-finding, also exclusion, isolation, being singled out and treated differently, being shouted at, humiliated, excessive monitoring, having verbal and written warnings imposted, and much more. In the workplace, bullying usually focuses on distorted or fabricated allegations of underperformance....The purpose of bullying is to hide inadequacy." Bullying begins with a sense of inadequacy in the bully who in turn, seeks inadequacies in others. ****** Once a weakness is spotted, a target is found and the bullying begins. Bullying is no joke, never has been, but the difference between bullying nowadays and bullying in the past is the level of intensity. ******Today, bullies seem to have no sense of morality, respect no limits, and feel no compassion or guilt. Even when the bullying leads to tragedy, they seem unaffected. Bullying is usually done in secret, but sometimes it's done in the presence of others who don't understand or don't bother to ask questions. At schools, teachers are aften too preoccupied with trouble-makers and don't realize what's going on in interactions between students. They often seem oblivious to what's going on, especially when the targeted student is quiet and doesn't complain. But many are afraid to complain or don't know who to turn to. For those who face bullying on a daily basis, there seems to be no one who believes, and no one to tell. Yet, there is secrecy between the bully and those who see and accept what's going on. Some observers even assist the bully in terrorizing someone else.That way, they gain acceptance by the bully.******Once upon a time neighbors looked out for children in the neighborhood, and aggressive acts where reported to parents. At school, there was recess where teachers could observe questionable activities and interactions between students on the playground. But even that was not enough. Children were bullied as often as they are today, or almost as often, but the difference is this: People worked together to protect those who lived in the neighborhood. But as community networks were destroyed somewhere along the way, neighborhoods became fragmented. With the deconstruction of neighborhoods through community redevelopment, lack of neighborly rapport because of busy schedules, drugs and street violence, we began to accept a world where it's up to the individual to protect themselves. ******If an individual is isolated by gender, language, culture, race, ethnicity or is shy and has no network of support, the individual is vulnerable to bullying. Bullying is not new, and as always, it takes a network of support to protect against it. For anyone who is bullied whether in schools or in the workplace, it's important to build a community of support--friends, teachers, counselors, administrators or mentors. Then it's important to take notes regarding bullying incidents--who was the bully, what happened, when and where it happened. Finally, it's important to find a way to report what happened to someone in power who believes in you. Of course, never give up, never stop trying to find ways to protect yourself, focus on building a network of support. Bullying is a form of abuse that no one deserves. STOP THE ABUSE.

Check and Reset--Your emotional clock

Emotions are spontaneous, easily felt but not so easy to express. But they must be expressed and practice makes perfect. Sometimes, I'll get a feeling about something or I might feel anxious about some unknown event. I might start ruminating on a negative event or incident, just to determine what the matter is, but this is not such a good idea. Over-thinking or ruminating over past or future events creates stress and if the stress turns into anxiety, incessant negative thinking could be the result. Incessant negative thinking can lead to depression, which is the ultimate negative result. It's important for me to not allow myself to dwell on negative feelings or thoughts, but emotions must be expressed. Just to check my emotional clock, I turn to writing, which allows me to think but at the same time express my feelings and uncover hidden emotions. I like to start with a simple phrase: I get mad about _______. If I'm worried, I write: I am worried about_______________. If I simply wish to reflect on my day, I'll write: Today I felt____________________. (The trick is to write nonstop about a topic for three to five minutes, without correcting, erasing or stopping. Writing on 8 1/2 X 11 loose-leaf paper provides enough space, and a good blue or black ink pen is a must.)********************** You can try it now. write for only three minutes. After I'm comfortable with three minutes (maybe in a week or two), I'll try for four and then five minutes, MAXIMUM. I'll try it right now, also.****************Today I felt happy, mostly because I got a lot accomplished. I talked on the phone a lot also. So little time in the day. I remember a time when there were too many hours in the day. I'd work and work but it seemed the day would last forever. But that was then. I'm so happy I've moved beyond the negative space in time. It takes work to overcome a traumatic event, but it can be done. You only have to use one emotional resource, and that's willpower. I had willpower to stay with writing--"always be writing" is my motto. I started out writing for someone else, about something else, but in the end it was all about me. Now, I'm on the right track, but sometimes, I think about the years I lost suffering PTSD and maybe depression. Since I was not diagnosed for depression, only PTSD, I'll never know for sure, especially since the symptoms for these two emotional disorders are similar--TIME UP. For you, I corrected mispellings. Otherwise, what you see is what I wrote during this 3-minute writing. Thanks for reading & visiting.

The Origins of Emotional Trauma: my story

My Story of Emotional Trauma I was watching CNN. Suddenly, I saw the planes crashing into our cherished twin towers. It was surreal. At first, I thought it was some kind of simulation, but then I realized we were being attacked. First one, and then the other building burst into flames. I saw the fire blazing and someone jumping to an early death, and for a moment or two I froze, probably like everyone else. I felt so many emotions swirling within but couldn’t name them, couldn’t stop them, and couldn’t help feeling violated by strangers. As evening approached, I remembered the conversation I had that morning with my daughter who said she was going to work. She would have traveled from Jersey City, transferred at the World Trade Center, and took one of the subway trains headed uptown to the east side. So absorbed in the horror of it all, I was 8:30 that nigh before I realized my daughter had not arrived at my apartment in Queens to pick up her baby boy. Telephone communication was impossible, and there was no way to know why my daughter wasn’t at my apartment except to see if she went to work. I grabbed her baby boy, located my car parked two blocks away, buckled the baby in, stopped by 7-11 store for milk and gasoline , and tried to find a way out of Queens and into Jersey City to see if my daughter was saved. I managed to find a way out of New York and into Jersey City where I found my daughter safe in her apartment. After a week’s sick leave, she had not felt well enough to return to wor after all.. I was relieved and thankful my daughter had followed her instincts, which had always been good, but I couldn’t overcome feelings of sadness and negativity about the attacks and the lives that were lost. I cried for six months. The next year, I took a leave of absence from work because I needed time to recover from the stress. I assumed I needed to be outside of New York. Had I but known the symptoms of PTSD (post-traumatic-stress-disorder), I would have known such feelings were a reaction to the trauma that I felt, and that I was not alone. Knowing I was not alone, I might have stayed in the place where it happened, talking it out among neighbors, co-workers and friends. I might have realized I needed medication for the PTSD. This would have allowed my emotions to be expressed. Temporarily moving out of state, meant I didn’t think anyone shared my reality, though they were in mourning, too. My leave of absence led to a temporary move out of state with hopes that my daughter would follow. She did follow, but because her emotional system was different from mine, she recovered and thrived. Yet, I was distraught. Because my emotional system is different, I reacted to the tragedy differently and developed PTSD. Because my emotions remained unexpressed, my negative feelings became internalized, and my trauma took control of my emotions. Untreated, PTSD can lead to depression. While I could feel the anxiety and other symptoms of PTSD, I never thought to seek treatment. Meanwhile, I became a victim of an quite invisible illness known as depression. Unless the symptoms of depression are known, this emotional disorder is nearly impossible to detect. After a while, I awoke each day to stress, anxiety, sadness, and incessant negative thoughts. Whenever the tragic event was mentioned, I started to cry. Negative thinking happens to all of us, especially after a tragic event, but incessant negative thinking and sadness that lasts for two weeks or more is not normal. Mistakenly,I thought it was. Had I known that my response to the event was abnormal, I might have found some way to talk about my feelings, but I remained convinced that the stress, anxiety, sadness and depression would go away in time. It did not. The next year, when a favorite colleague at work committed suicide, I realized I had emotional strength—just enough to start writing about how to survive a tragedy. I had no awareness of the PTSD and depression that I was experiencing. I wrote on behalf of others rather than myself. I became obsessed with writing about survival—having the willpower to survive just one day because if I knew anything at all since childhood, it was how to survive. However, because I never expressed my feelings about the tragedy, never shared my grief with anyone, I was not able to heal. Good, bad or indifferent, emotions must be expressed. Eventually my expression took place through writing. Writing the book on how to survive, I was able to express emotions that I never knew I had. When I think of the years lost to sadness and PTSD because I did not know their symptoms, I feel a sense of regret. Simply knowing the symptoms of PTSD might have allowed for early intervention which might have prevented the onset of depression altogether. Without intervention, 40 percent of those suffering PTSD will develop depression. Knowing the symptoms of emotional disorders like PTSD and depression is everybody’s business. Once we are able to recognize symptoms, we can become guardians of ourselves and others. PTSD and depression are emotional disorders that can be effectively treated, and there is no stigma in seeking treatment. For some individuals, the disorders will disappear on their own (as in my case), but others require professional help. Whether treatment is through self-help techniques or professional counseling, intervention usually begins with a proper diagnosis and medication for overcoming PTSD or reducing the incessant negative thoughts that fuel depression. Medication is meant to be temporary, so it must be followed by psychotherapy or a regimen of self-help activities and exercises that build emotional competence. Depression and PTSD do not have to ruin lives or destroy families. Beating such emotional disorders begins with knowing the symptoms. They remain invisible only if we allow them to.

UNNAMED Story--because Writing is Therapeutic

I. Elena My past life unfolded like a wave—strewing bits of crackled sea shells and remnants of bloody guts on pristine, sandy shores. Nighttime was an easy place to hide, but morning always dredged up shit and guts from my past for the whole world to see. Needless to say, I washed it away with whatever the doctor prescribed and awoke just in time to bathe and get to work on time. I played saxophone at a very romantic night spot where I saw so many goings-on, I found it impossible to believe in anything—until she walked through the door. She wore a white magnolia blossom at the side of her face, like Billie Holliday and she was just as gorgeous as France, herself. I didn’t believe in reincarnation until I heard her voice—beautiful, throaty, resonating. She could do anything and have anything she pleased, if she dared ask. She reminded me of myself in another place and time—except I wasn’t a woman. “You look like a cool glass of Beaujolais. Can I buy you a drink?” I asked after she settled into the seat at the bar next to me. I was never a connoisseur of wines but always liked the way the word, “Beaujolais” rolled off the tip of my tongue. I smiled and waited for her lips to part. She seemed to ignore me so I asked her again. “Can I buy you something to drink?” Her gap-toothed smile had to be the sexist thing on earth. A subtle fear took shape somewhere in my brain. “Oh, I’m actually waiting for someone.” “Oh, that’s not what I meant—I just wanted to offer you a drink.” “Oh, all right,” she said, pushing back the curly red hair fallen slightly over her eyes. “What are you drinking?” “Courvoisier.” “Then, I’ll have what you’re drinking.” I signaled the waiter and he came back with Courvoisier with a twist of lime. We shared a toast and talked until it was time for my next set. During my solo, I watched as expressions of admiration for me replaced aloofness and although her date seemed attentive, she didn’t stop looking at me. At last call, I hated seeing her leave but was relieved to stop looking at his mugly face. What we did behind closed door took over a week to achieve, but once we connected, my life was never the same. By my standards, I wasn’t married, just living with someone. But women have a way of knowing when competition lurks in the background. Her name was Elena, and she came to the club every night "because the music is good," she had said. After we’d been seeing each other for a few weeks I agreed to meet Elena for lunch just outside of town where we were least likely to run into someone we knew. I noticed her reddish hair before anything else, but suddenly she disappeared from view. Then my cell phone range. “You’d better stop flirting with that woman,” said the voice on the line. “I’m not flirting,” I said out of habit, “I’m having lunch.” The words took their familiar place at the tip of my tongue and slipped out before I recognized the voice came not from my roommate but from Elena, the red-headed goddess I knew would be trouble I couldn't resist. “Good,” said Elena as she approached the table and sat across from me. “So…you are in the habit of defending yourself,” she said. “And you are in the habit of playing the bitch?” “Not usually. But when a guy plays saxophone so well as you, it never hurts to check his pulse and responses.” “It doesn’t take a rocket magician to know that everybody likes saxophone players—men, women, itty-bitty children and puppy dogs.” “Everybody?” I liked when she swooshed up her hair and tucked it behind her ears. “Most everybody--and that was a dirty little trick. Never do it again.” I felt exposed and slightly betrayed. I wanted to retaliate but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t cause me to lose her before I even knew her secrets. We ordered crab legs—messy, but worth it. She spoke sometimes in English but switched to French from time to time. Then she said she had to return to work. “I’ll call you, tomorrow,” she said. I hadn't asked what she did for a living and was gripped by the thought of never seeing her again. She knew so much about me, and I knew so little about her. As she left the restaurant, I watched her bottom bounce side to side, like it did when we—“You have to stop,” I told myself. “It’ll only make matters worse. She’s just a piece of ass—nothing more, nothing less.” I paid the check, walked next door and rented a car, for taking a drive up the countryside. I felt conflicted enough to run and hide but I wanted to see Elena again already. At the same time, I wanted to see my wife.

It's about how we react, not about what happens to us.

According to most who write about the effects of trauma, trama is a personal experience. A devastating event does not affect us equally. While I might become traumatized and suffer PTSD or depression someone else might not. It all depends on our coping resources.It’s not what happens but how we react that makes the difference. How we react depends upon our emotional resilience. As a child, I was physically strong and had stamina when it came to setting and accomplishing goals. Yet, I had very little self-awareness and lacked emotional skills to cope with bullying, neglect or negativity from others. My reactions were simple: fight or take flight. I usually had to fight. I was a quiet but nervous child. I think I must have suffered PTSD throughout my childhood due to bullying and violence, but I managed to cope. However, after a traumatic event or two, I began to feel diminished and overly stressed. After suffering PTSD, I know what it means to be overly-reactive, overly sensitive, and hyper-vigilant, and though I did not continue medication or explore options in medical treatment after being diagnosed, I think medication might have helped. Medication can change the way you process information or relieve the effects of trauma short-term, but medication is not a long term solution. Medication helps to keep your anxieties, fears, and stress levels in check until your frayed nerves can heal. After nerves and negative thoughts are in check, the solution is to build emotional competence and strengthen social networks. According the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), the best solution begins with meds but includes opportunities for expressing feelings (talk therapy) which could be with a therapist or with self-help groups or techniques. Following, is a list of activities that can help build emotional compentence whether one suffers an emotional disorder or not. 10 Steps to Building Emotional Resilience 1. Grow your empathy for others and their situations. 2. Build supportive networks and avoid toxic relationships. 3. Travel (solo or with non-toxic individuals). 4. Build self-awareness and improve social skills. 5. Don’t internalize or personalize negative workplace issues. 6. Take time to connect with your positive spiritual strength. 7. Volunteer once a month and help change the world. 8. Celebrate and appreciate living one day at a time. 9. Stop negative self talk when it happens--every time. 10. Manage your emotions and take time to make appropriate responses.

Have Faith.

Have faith. This is what most of us have been told, but what is FAITH? Everyone talks about it, but do we really know what it means to have faith. And no matter how hard we try, faith is sometimes not so easy to find. This word has many definitions, and it can even be a name, but I like the the following definition provided by http://www.reference.com: 1. strong or unshakeable belief in something, esp without proof or evidence." According to this definition, faith is not based on logic or knowledge. Instead, it comes from within. But how does someone find faith? I am a believer in karmic footprints, reaping what we sow, and repaying debts that we owe. I don't really believe in divine forgiveness, so there is no need to have faith in being forgiven. Instead, I must have faith that I will do the right things so that I'll become an enlightened soul worthy enough for heaven. Because of this belief system, I try to do and be the best that I can at any moment in time. For me, living on faith means that things have a way of working out, but I'm also quick to doubt this. I become stressed when I think the ends won't meet, or when there's a banking error. I worry about the future and whether I'll be unhappy or bored when I'm old. Then I am somehow reminded to have faith in knowing that everything will be alright. Just the other day, I witnessed the power of blind faith when a quiet, still voice came from within, saying: "You will have everything you need. Always. You just need to strengthen your faith." I realized the message came to me, but not from me. Do you believe that you will always have everything you need when you need it? If you heard that still, small voice would you believe it and rest assured that everything will be alright? Or would you dismiss it and continue worrying? If you believed in that still, small voice within you, you wouldn't worry when the going gets rough. You'd know that everything you need will be there for you when you need it, and sometimes, not a moment before. FAITH is blind trust that everything will be okay. Usually, I'm challenged when it comes to having faith, but what happened at the airport before I left for Europe the other day was a perfect example of faith. I was confronted with a problem that I had no power to solve. I had to have faith, and I did. My two-week vacation almost got cancelled because my passport required three extra months of validation after my return to the U.S.A. Instead, my passport had only two months of validation left after my return to the U.S. I was stopped at the airport, told I couldn't make the flight and there was nothing to be done. Options were to buy a new ticket (cost of $2,000) after my passport was updated in Atlanta or cancel the trip. Out of nowhere, a woman appeared, said she could help, and found a way to redirect my flight through Atlanta where my passport could be renewed and expedited on that very same day. She booked me a later flight out that night. The passport was updated, I caught the later flight, and I enjoyed two weeks with my son in Europe. Funny thing. Had I taken my original, earlier ride to the airport, I would have missed that angel who helped me out--she had just returned from a break. No one else knew how to help, except to cancel the flight, which meant cancelling another side trip I had planned (without Cancellation Insurance--not smart, I know). When I saw that Angel, Andrea, I knew she would fix the problem, and she did. That was blind faith. Not only did my trip get saved by an angel, my credit cards worked at the right times (but not all of the times) while I was overseas. Later that evening, the still small voice had said, "You will have everything you need. Always. You need to strengthen your faith." I'm challenged when it comes to faith, but from now on, I'll try to remember what I was told by that inner spiritual voice, no matter how close I get to possible disaster. That's my personal motto from now on: Have Faith.