Blog Psychologist

You know often singers are amazed at the fans who feel like they know them, but you can learn a lot about a person through their lyrics. A true artist writes from their heart and I'm not talking about frivolous songs with no real meaning. I'm talking about meaningful songs, written by people with complete vulnerability. That person, through music, can give more of a window to their soul than hours of face to face conversation. This is true of artists in general. Through a person's art we can see the things they wouldn't say to just anyone, if anyone.

"Childhood" by Michael Jackson is a prime example:

Have you seen my Childhood?
I'm searching for the world that I
Come from
'Cause I've been looking around
In the lost and found of my heart...
No one understands me
They view it as such strange eccentricities...
'Cause I keep kidding around
Like a child, but pardon me...
People say I'm not okay
'Cause I love such elementary things...
It's been my fate to compensate, for the
Childhood
I've never known...

Have you seen my Childhood?
I'm searching for that wonder in my youth
Like pirates and adventurous dreams,
Of conquest and kings on the throne...

Before you judge me, try hard to love me,
Look within your heart then ask,
Have you seen my Childhood?

People say I'm strange that way
'Cause I love such elementary things,
It's been my fate to compensate,
for the Childhood I've never known...

Have you seen my Childhood?
I'm searching for that wonder in my youth
Like fantastical stories to share
The dreams I would dare, watch me fly...

Before you judge me, try hard to love me.
The painful youth I've had

Have you seen my Childhood.

Honestly, I am sincerely heartbroken over the loss of Michael Jackson last week. I have been a big fan my whole life. I realize that people younger than I am may not understand why, but there was a time when nothing nor no one was bigger than Michael Jackson. He was an icon, an inspiration and I idolized him.

Now, I know everyone and their mom is talking about his death right now and maybe people are already sick of hearing about it. Well, this isn't that kind of post. Yes, I was a huge fan and could go on for days about it, but it's not the whole reason I'm writing.

I'm writing to address some of the negativity surrounding his life. While I can't pretend to know what it feels like to be famous, let alone since childhood, with your every move followed and analyzed, I'm going to give it a try. You see, I think his family and my family (specifically one side of my family) are similar in that they were both screwed up. If my family had been thrust into the spotlight, it wouldn't have meant our problems would go away. Fame and money, no matter what people think, don't equal mental health and happiness.

So, there we'd be, my family and all our flaws exposed. That's just the flaws he came into fame with. Once fame had it's way with him, he didn't have a chance. No artist today, even as crazy as it is now, can know what Michael went through in the height of his fame. It was a different time, he was more popular, more talented than artists today. He was my generations Elvis only, unlike Elvis, he'd never known anything else. He'd been famous as a young child, everyone wanted a piece of him.

Are we then surprised he was strange? Man, how we loved his originality when he was pumping out records.

Just when you think I can't possibly have any other major issues in my life, I assure you I can. When I was 3 years old, I was burned by coffee. The water had just been boiled and the cup sat on the kitchen table. In the one second my mom's head was turned, I climbed up and grabbed it. 1st, 2nd, and 3rd degree burns were the result.

Luckily, my burns are not on my face and can be hidden with clothing. When I was really young, the scars didn't bother me, but somewhere in middle school, kids started making comments and I started hiding.

For a very long time, no one ever saw me in short-sleeved shirts. When I was 21, I actually tattooed over a large portion of the scars. The portion covered, however, is not the portion someone could even see in short-sleeved shirts. I did it, mostly, so that I could feel comfortable in bathing suits.

This was not a decision supported by my family but they don't know what it's like to walk in this skin. Tattoos, to them, are scarring the body, but my body was already scarred. All I could hope to accomplish was to make my scars more attractive to the eye.

Now, I know there's going to be people out there who think I should just accept myself for who I am and all that jazz. I say that's great, absolutely, do that if you can. For me, this was my attempt to make lemonade out of lemons. The burns are still there, but I feel better about them and I don't see any harm in that approach. That same theory could easily be applied to plastic surgery. The hope is a person won't go overboard with it and change everything about themselves, but I don't think everything has to be so serious. If bigger breasts or a smaller nose makes you feel better, then it doesn't have to be the biggest deal in the world.

Now, again, a person should try and love themselves and shouldn't try and be something they're not, but some changes can be good. My tattoos do make me feel more confident and I feel good about the choice. If it's not for you, then I respect that. I will say, I don't know if it was the tattoos or just getting older, but I am not in hiding anymore.

In fact, whenever people from my past see pics of me today, they all remark on how strange it is to see me in short-sleeves. It's funny because I've come so far from that time in my life, that I didn't even remember I'd ever hidden my scars.

Depression is something that effects so many. I know I've suffered from it as most people in my life have as well. My family, specifically, have had a long running history of severe depression. Four members of my family have been committed, two of which died in asylums. On top of that, I am one of the few of us who have not tried to commit suicide. In `96 my half brother succeeded.

Unfortunately, I had been living in a different state for 5 years and hadn't seen him in that time. Our relationship was always strained though because his mother, my dad's ex, and my dad didn't get along. It wasn't until after their son's death that they buried the hatchet. It's a shame it took something so devastating, but it happens all the time...sadly.

My brother (10 years older than me) had just had major brain surgery, was going through an ugly divorce and his wife was threatening to take the kids. Life definitely looked bleak, no doubt about that.

I still fight with depression now and then and fear I will always; but I know, from having been on this side of things, that suicide is not the answer. I have seen my brother's kids sparsely over the years. His wife did take the kids and left. They know little of who their father was as a result of not having his side of the family be more of a presence in their lives. That, to me is so devastatingly sad. It is, however, the chance that my brother took when he made the choice he did.

I always felt bad because my dad had told me he was depressed and asked me to talk to him, but I was 18 and had no idea what to tell him other than "join the club". I think because I was depressed too and felt his pain, I took his death hard. That, and I felt so much for my dad. It was one of the few times I ever saw my dad break down; not just cry, but really fall apart. Now that I have a son of my own, I can't imagine the pain he was feeling. Nor can I imagine not being able to see my kid grow up, which is something my brother wasn't able to do.

In lieu of all this, I would plead with anyone who's suffering, please talk to someone. If that person doesn't listen, keep talking. There is help out there.

In my last post I mentioned that my mother had been abused. Over the years, I've talked in great depth to my mother and father on the subject as they were both open to discussion.

My father went into a type of recovery from alcoholism when I was around 14. When I say recovery, I mean our life circumstances changed dramatically and he gave up the boozin' and thus stopped the abuse.

From those years on, life was fairly good I'd say. Once that happened, my parents shared alot about their lives with me. I found out my dad was abused as a kid and he watched his father abuse his mother. This is a story we hear all the time. Patterns do repeat.

My mom didn't have a father figure and so she sought out acceptance and love in the wrong places. She didn't know she deserved better. I know there may be a lot of people who would judge both, but unless you've been in the situation, you really shouldn't.

It's not to say people get a free pass because they had hardships growing up, but it's like Oprah says, "When you know better, you'll do better". You'd be fooling yourself to say that what happens in our childhoods don't affect our adult lives.

Once I understood where my parents came from I could see them as human and humans make mistakes. The one thing I always had in my life, as crazy as it was, was love. I knew my parents loved me. I think that, without it, I wouldn't have turned out as good as I did.

I realize my last post may have put a bad light on my father, but I do want to say, my father was a good father. Maybe he wasn't a good husband or a good friend, I don't know; but he was a good father...a great father!

He never abused me, but he could be cruel to others around me. As a kid, not understanding everything going on, specifically not understanding the part my dad was playing in things, I thought my mother was actually the one to blame for everything.

All I knew was that I loved my father more than anything in the world and yet my mother seemed, at times, to despise him. I didn't understand, until I got older, just why my mom was truly upset all the time. I just knew she was mean to my dad and put him down every chance she got.

Now this is important, because for all those parents out there who put down their spouse in front of their kids, I can offer some perspective. As a kid who had this happen, I can tell you, my mom might as well have been putting me down because I took everything she said about my dad personally. He was my dad, I loved him and he was part of me.

I grew up feeling like I was a bad person because my dad was a "bad person". For a lot of years I was like a guard dog, defending my dad and myself to anyone who put him down. Although I was close to my mom, it kept a distance between us.

Of course, like I said, I understand now. My dad was abusive and my mom was in an impossible situation. Still, I think both people should have handled things differently. I guess there are good and bad sides to us all.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I wasn't sexually assaulted, but no one gets out of childhood unscathed. My beloved father was an alcoholic. It's hard to say because no one wants to put their loved ones out there like that, especially since he's gone and it all seems so unimportant now. Still, the fact of the matter is, while it's unimportant on a large scale, his alcoholism affected my life greatly.

Alcoholism affects the alcoholic and everyone around the alcoholic. I believe that many of my issues with OCD have, in fact, stemmed from the lack of control I felt over living in such a chaotic environment.

When you're living with an alcoholic, especially a mean one, every day is unpredictable. There is a fear that comes from not knowing what will happen. Will this be the day he loses it? Will he and my mom fight? Will I be put in the middle? Will my mom leave? Will he go to jail...again?

OCD, as crazy as it sounds, provides a feeling of control in an uncontrollable situation. I realize, of course, the opposite is true and that it's the OCD that has control over me and not me over it. Still, I couldn't control my dad's drinking, but if I was dirty I could wash my hands and I felt control over that. It was a little piece of sanity for me.

But this is nothing new. So many people grow up in situations like these or worse and we all cope differently. OCD was my way and I'm just trying to make sense of it now. I'm hoping that sharing this will help.

One thing my sister did bring to my attention, something I think about, but haven't dwelled on, is the affect my OCD's having on my husband. Of course, I've been in a constant state of worry about the affect on my son because I don't want him to have this. I haven't, however, thought too much about the affect on my husband because so much of what I do is personal and hidden (to the best of my ability).

I know, as of late, I've been putting more of my issues on him. I ask him to wash his hands, etc. Beyond that, I didn't know what I might be doing to him emotionally. So, I asked and he brought up a lot of things I didn't even think about. Such as, the extra responsibilities I put on him with our son. For instance, after I do my rituals to eat, I cannot touch my son's food and I cannot get up from my spot unless I want to repeat the rituals. Thus, my husband has to feed our son.

I also get up several times in the night to do my rituals which leads to him waking several times a night. In fact, he's taken care of our son at night as well because if I were to have taken care of our son, it would cause me to go without sleep. To have to tend to our son and do the rituals, it would be too much.

It's no good and so I've got to try to do something about this. I don't want to hurt my loved ones anymore.

The A&E show Obsessed has certainly opened up a lot of dialogue between my family and I about my OCD. I'm afraid I'm finding it more frustrating than helpful though. While I realize that OCD is difficult to understand for anyone let alone someone who doesn't have it, I can't help but feel like my family is insensitive to it. Frankly, they just don't get it...at all.

My mother is certain she used to have it, but that she just got over it. She goes onto insist that if I were just busier, or put my mind to it, I too could "get over it". That is insulting and wrong. As I've said before, you don't just get over it. Things can get better. With therapy, I believe it can be treated; but to say I'm not strong enough, or to suggest that my laziness gets in the way of my getting better, it's incredibly insensitive.

My sister is trying to get it, but then she makes comments like "thank goodness you're not as crazy as those people", with no idea of how bad I really have it. Nor does she have any idea of the concern I feel that I will go "crazy". The fact of the matter is she doesn't know because I don't tell her and I don't tell her because I know I'll be judged just like the people on the show are judged.

Even as understanding as I want to be of their ignorance towards the subject, I feel like I will just lose it if I hear how we all have a touch of it just one more time. Of course we all wash our hands, we all check the stove once in awhile, but just because you drink alcohol once in awhile, doesn't make you a drunk. If you eat, you don't have an eating disorder; and if you don't step on a crack in the sidewalk, you don't have OCD. I have this and it's real. If I could just get over it, I would.

As I was watching Obsessed last night, it hit me that this show is exactly like A&E's Intervention. This is disturbing because I know how I feel when I watch Intervention, how sympathetic I feel and yet it's total entertainment. I guess you can't know how degrading that idea is until they do a show about your darkest secret.

Now that the show is about OCD, it sucks to think that there are people out there watching only to feel better about their own lives by seeing how horrible others have it. It's not entertainment for me, it's educational; but like I said, I've definitely been on the other side of it with Intervention. Though I don't know that Intervention was pure entertainment for me. I do like to study behavior. I never judged. In fact, I feel like I do understand why people turn to drugs and I am grateful that I never have.

In many ways, OCD is similar, just as eating disorders, cutting and other addictions are similar. They're all outlets, coping mechanisms. This is what we turn to when we don't face our issues. I'm realizing that more now than ever.

My OCD is at a all time high. That sounds obvious because it's progressive; but there are times, when stress levels are low, that the OCD is easier to deal with. Now, is not one of those times. I'm more frightened of my OCD and the hold it has over me now than ever before.

I know I'll have to do something soon or I'm going to be one of those people facing dire consequences, such as possible divorce, hospitalization, and loss of freedom.

Last night I had a dream with a re-occurring situation. It's a little embarrassing, but it always involves going to a public restroom and either the door's broken or the stall doors are too short. Somethings always wrong.

Equally embarrassing, up until now, I had no idea what it meant. Then, this morning, I'm describing it to my husband and it just came out, "it's just not comfortable". That's it! For years, I've wondered and it's as simple as that.

This is why it is so important to say your dreams out loud. It was hearing myself say the phrase aloud that caused it's meaning to click in my mind.

It's about my OCD. So many of my rituals ("compulsions") take place in the bathroom. It's a place I dread to go and a place that I feel a great sense of discomfort in.

Now, if you look it up in a dream dictionary it will say something completely generic but it's all about what things/places mean to you. You can't go by generalities when it comes to true analysis.

Talking about marriage, along with compromise, honesty is by far one of the most important factors to a successful relationship. I've been thinking about honesty a lot lately in trying to analyze myself and what's important to me. Honesty has, in my adult life, been of the utmost importance to me. When I was a kid, I lied alot, but every night I would come and confess these lies along with whatever else I felt bad about to my mom.

I wondered for a long time why I did that because my family wasn't Catholic, not even religious really. Then, pretty recently, I was talking to my therapist about it and she linked it to my OCD by saying that confessing made me feel clean. I need to feel clean, that's big for me and so for her to link that together just made so much sense.

Now, I know what you're thinking, you hear clean and you think I feel dirty therefore I was probably sexually assaulted. This is not the case. If it were, I would admit to it. I might as well, I'm admitting to everything else. My OCD, in general, isn't something I share with a lot of people.

I don't know where this idea of dirty/clean came from and why it plays such a role in my life. I do, however, know that honesty was something my mom put a lot of value on. If you were dishonest she would be disappointed and I never wanted my parents to be disappointed in me. I think this was because they fought alot and I always, to this day, think I caused a lot of it. It's crazy to me that I still think that because I know better, but that kid inside me still doesn't.

To be disappointing, to be a problem, in our already chaotic life was something I tried so hard to avoid. I wanted to be good and I think I was a good kid, comparatively. Oddly enough the good kid never gets the attention, not with a troubled rebel as a sibling. I understand it, why my sister acted out, why my parents had to give her more attention, why the good kid gets pushed to the background, and yet it still sucks.

Life is so much about those realizations that life just isn't fair.

There are tons of articles on love and relationships, but I recently came across 8 Things No One Tells You About Marriage on Redbook Magazine's website and it pretty much covers it. The 8 things are as follows:

1. You will look at the person lying next to you and wonder, Is this it? Forever?
2. You'll work harder than you ever imagined.
3. You will sometimes go to bed mad (and maybe even wake up madder).
4. You will go without sex — sometimes for a long time — and that's okay.
5. Getting your way is usually not as important as finding a way to work together.
6. A great marriage doesn't mean no conflict; it simply means a couple keeps trying
to get it right.
7. You'll realize that you can only change yourself.
8. As you face your fears and insecurities, you will find out what you're really made of.