When the Children Cry..

http://caringbridge.org/visit/tylerhibingerTyler was 3yrs old when he was diagnosed with an extremely rare brain tumor. This story has touched me and my friends and we want to help his family.Please visit The Caring Bridge website to read Tyler's story, see pictures and to read his families daily journal of this ordeal.The local fundraiser will be

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Never Normal

Fast forward about twenty two years and I am now sitting in a psychiatrist's office, wondering why I cant seem to manage my life. I was eleven at the time of the "stick-up" incident, and here I am 33 years old and realizing this memory is surfacing from the deep dark under-belly of my mind. It was not only this memory, but the many instances of bullying and abuse I received at home and at school. This is why at 33 I always felt bullied, by everyone. Constructive criticism was bullying to me. Disagreeing with my opinion was bullying. I was the constant victim in life. It was the world against me. I had a problem with everyone and everything. No matter where I went in life, someone was sure to be talking about me. Leaving a room full of people was torture. I just knew they were laughing at me. I also developed an obsession with colognes and perfumes. Obviously it did not take a Ph.D to explain to me where this obsession stemmed from. As an adult, no one would ever laugh at me again for having some sort of odor. 33 was the year of change. I no longer wanted to be held captive by the chains of abuse and bullying. My father, those fuckin kids, no one was going to keep me down any longer. BAM! The psychiatrist says, "you have post-traumatic stress disorder stemming from your childhood and your upbringing and you suffer from Bi-Polar Disorder." What the hell? Will I ever be friggin normal?

A Wish For Death

Walking home from school this day was frightening. Typically, kids were behind me picking on me half way home and I often times fought back with my words which only made things worse. This is something I still do to this day! Anyways, this day, I zoned them all out. I had that stick-up in my book bag and truthfully I wanted to smash it right in their faces. However, they were doing their typical bully bullshit and I heard nothing. I was silent. When a parent tells you to ignore the bully and they will go away, they do not know what they are talking about. This did not work. They kept up a relentless pace of shit but I was so defeated by the stick up under my desk that all I could see was my death. I wanted to die. And not the type of death where your embarrassed and you say, "oh my God, I just wanted to die!" I WANTED death. No one seemed to love or care for me and it was beginning to burden my heart and soul. One person can only take so much and I realized that day that I still had several years of schooling left, so how could I possibly survive? How could I manage to escape this? My mind raced with, "let them all find me dead. Let my dad find me, I will leave a note exclaiming everything he did and all the kids names too." What the fuck was I thinking? I could hang from the church bell and no one would give a shit.