Anger!! Who’s Really To Blame?

I would like to tell you I had an emotional week.  I wanted to get mad at everyone, due to my forgetting to schedule wheelchair transportation for an appointment Wednesday morning.  I assumed they were picking me up at 10:15, for an 11:00 appointment.

At 10:00, I started questioning whether I had scheduled the transportation, and finally called to see if they had me on the schedule that day.  They did not.  First, I wanted to blow up at them (Really??).  Then, I called my therapist to cancel the appointment, why, and asked that she called me back.  I wanted to keep calling her, until she answered the phone and I could vent my anger and frustration (Why??).

Image result for Anger
Photo: Google Images

When she finally called me back, I explained what happened and she asked if I would like to reschedule (Ya think??).  We made another appointment, and then I wanted to vent at her again, because the appointment was not for another two weeks (??).

After hanging up the phone, I sat here and I realized that the person I was really angry at was myself.  I had screwed up, forgot to schedule transportation, and I missed my appointment.  Did I really expect her to rearrange her entire schedule, to get me in earlier?  No.

Photo: Karen Van Benschoten

I have MS.  I have mild cognitive impairment and some memory loss.  I know this, and I know that if I don’t put extra reminders in place, I may very well forget something.

 I wanted to blame my aide, as every time she arrives, she usually takes out my planner, checks for any appointments that she hasn’t already written on the (very) large, dry erase calendar, that hangs on the wall above my wheelchair desk.  She asks if I have transportation.  I call and make arrangements.  Once I’ve done that, I put a check mark next to the appointment in my planner.  But not this week.  I don’t think I gave a single thought to that appointment, and usually I never forget that particular appointment.

But who should I be mad at about it?  No one.  Not even myself.  Everyone makes mistakes, and I can’t be mad  because I made a mistake.

Image result for Netflix
Photo: Google Images

So I played Sudoku and then watched more episodes of “The Fosters.”  Really like this show.  Whatever did I watch before Netflix??



People gasp when they see an accident,
People gasp when they can’t get enough air,
People gasp when they get surprised,
But no one hears the tiny little gasp.

There’s a child sitting there,
As if there is no one who cares,
Inside and out the child cries,
Inside, a small part of her dies.

Why can’t the people around her see?
How more helpful could they be?
If only one had heard her cry,
Dry her tears and ask her why?

Why do you cry, little one?
What is it that someone has done,
That makes you cry right here, today?
How can I make the tears go away?

But no one cared to see her cry,
No one cared to ask her why,
Why do you do things that are bad?
What is it making you so sad?

If only one could see inside,
All the things she had to hide,
They can not make it go away,
It happens every single day.

Another Year, But Different Resolutions

New Year’s resolutions are difficult. Sometimes I set my goals too high, and end up failing, at least that’s how I feel about not meeting my goals. I’d never thought about making resolutions about my blog before, but then…why not?

What can I do to set resolutions for, that I can actually dedicate myself to doing with my blog? I am a sporadic writer at best, but I’ve been told that my writing is very powerful, due to the way I write about my subject matter, which stems from childhood sexual abuse.

I’m thinking that if people are reading my posts, and getting something from them, why don’t I try to reach more people that could benefit from my writing? How would I do that?

I don’t like to judge my blog by statistics, or followers, or number of clicks. That is why I rarely look at my statistics. I look at the comments, at what people actually think about my posts. So, if I try to reach more people that might benefit from my writing, I think I should look around and see what is out there. What I can read, what I can learn from it, and how can I help others to deal with such issues as I am?

I want to make one resolution to take a look at my Reader every day, see who is out there and what they are writing. The benefits can be two-fold. One, I can enrich my blog by learning from others, and two, I may be able to find others who could benefit from my writing. So that is resolution number 1.

My second resolution would be to interact with my readers, and those whose posts I read. This will give me ideas about how to write my posts so that they reach more people. I could do this by commenting more, rather than just ‘liking’ a post. Another way would be to visit the blogs of my readers, see where they are coming from and maybe make more friends that have similar interests, but also interests far different from the things I look at every day. So resolution #2 is to interact with my readers through commenting and looking at their sites.

My third resolution is to look more deeply into myself, find out what else might be in there that I can pull out and put into words. Resolution #3 is for introspection into my own abuse, and how it has shaped and continues to shape my life.

These seem maybe a little lofty for me, but they are something to try to attain, even if I only reach one new person a month, or learn one new thing about myself this year.

Those are my three blogging resolutions for 2016.

Walking Down A Lonely Trail

Not able to speak what’s on my mind,
A comforting ear is hard to find.
I have to sit and keep it in,
Or find myself buried again.
There is a trail that I must take,
That leads to a place that’ll make,
Me stronger than I was before,
Help me, I can’t find the door.
Sometimes I get beyond the door,
But every time, I know not what for.
I have to walk that lonely trail,
I need some help or I will fail.
I try again, that lonely trail,
But it seems to me of no avail,
And every time, I come right back,
The work I need, I cannot hack.

– van –

Here Again

Holiday time isIMAG0055 drawing near,
People with those who are dear.
But all the bustle and the cheer,
I wish I were anywhere but here.
Heart is heavy from those I’ve lost,
Ones that I loved the most,
This is why I never host,
Anything other than a blog post.
I need traditions of my own,
As I’ll mostly be all alone,
The support of others, I have none,
Not from anything I have done.
I miss my mom, I miss my dad,
I have lost what once I had,
Inside it makes me feel real sad,
When will I again feel real glad?

A Week of Competition

The trip that took me far away,
On a warm and sunny day,
Was for a week of wheelchair games,
With others who helped to serve and save.

Racing chairs with those minus limbs,
Only caused me to look within,
One who never could behave,
Wounded as I was,

Went to serve and save,
But is anything just?
My mind messed up so long ago,
With no place to turn or go,

Poured myself into a bottle,
All I wanted was to throttle.
The one who caused my inner pain,
But I was taken far away,

So I could serve my country,
But took that bottle along with me.
Sad to say, my service cut short,
Because of feelings I couldn’t abort.

The bottle turned me into someone,
I never wanted to be,
When I left them, my job undone,
Yet I still could not see,

What really caused the pain in me.
It happened oh, so long ago,
I couldn’t run away,
From something I could not let go,

He gave to me to stay.
Feelings of blame and shame,
For I was the one who didn’t say,
Stop, for he’s to blame.

A future planned when I was young,
All the things I could have done,
Was all just washed far away,
Drink after drink, day after day.

I served with those who deserve the honor,
To be called disabled vets,
Yet I still feel still so minor,
Not ready to really compete, quite yet,

But still go through the motions,
Winning game by game,
Competing with those who in some way paid,
These games were meant to bring new life,

For those who were wounded,
And no longer wanted to try,
All our dreams have been drained dry,
Wounded without,

Wounded within,
Yet we all get together and try,
To feel alive again.
The games I won,

But life I lost,
Due to the one,
I hate the most.

– van –