In later years, when I had become an adult with my own children, was married to a man that my mother viewed as very successful, I believe that my mother grew ashamed of her actions of having beat me and called me names–her form of punishment.
She observed me guiding and disciplining my and my husband’s children,
Something shifted inside me the day of the car accident, when the driver of the Jeep SUV slammed into the back of my SUV. Being hit from behind unearthed, exhumed all my fears of being caught off guard, being ambushed.
That’s what it felt like each time my mother criticized me and/or as a result of the anger and rage she experienced either in response to me and my actions of events out in the world, physically punished me.
As a child you believe that your
When I think back on my late teens and early twenties–I met my now husband when I was seventeen years old–I am amazed that I married, that he wanted me and that we have remained together for thirty-two years.vWe’ve known each other thirty-six.
I tried committing suicide, my second attempt, three months after meeting my husband, then boyfriend. We met in August of 1978, my first week as a college freshman. He was a junior, practically 4.0 student, majoring in Chemistry and with aspirations
Since learning of the death of Whitney’s Houston death, Saturday, February 11th, 2012, I held little patience with those who expressed sincere shock and amazement that she no longer lived with us in the world of life on planet earth.
Even as our elder daughter posted comments on Facebook offering condolences I cautioned her to not become so caught up in what I termed, “…one more example of the media bastardizing a very real and human loss in the effort to make headlines and money…”
On Monday I zoomed in my criticism on the fact that while people may miss Whitney, no one’s loss could compare with that of her and Bobby Brown’s daughter, Bobbi Kristina.
During the drive to school on the morning of Valentine’s Day, our youngest daughter said,
It makes sense to me…
“We can now say with confidence that the psychosocial environment has a material impact on the way the human brain develops,” said Dr. Joan Luby, psychiatrist at Washington University School of Medicine in St. Louis, MO, and head researcher of the study that is a larger part of a larger project tracking the development of early onset depression in children.
Vanguard theories of psychology has fairly unanimously asserted and demonstrated that the psychosocial environment of an individual affects that person’s emotions.
The majority of us who have spent any significant amount of time in psychotherapy as a client have
Posted by Anjuelle Floyd | Filed under Articles and Essays
Today I read a guest post by Joy Kay, Holiday Relief in the Midst of Grief, at the blog Our Stories Gods Glory , describing the joy and challenge she is presently experiencing during this Holiday Season as the first since her mother died last spring.
As I read Kay’s moving essay it struck me how this is the first time in a long while that I am enjoying the Christmas Season.
In fact I have never experienced this type of peace and comfort as I am now.
As a child Christmastime brought a hustle and bustle, that though filled with excitement, I now, nearly 40 years later, realize
My mum rang me for my birthday a couple of weeks ago.
She had found my old intermediate school reports – most of my teachers said the same thing: “Elle is very good with her writing and reading but disrupts lessons in class and upsets her classmates.”
Hmmmm – so basically I’m a pain in the ar*e who can read and write – explains why I write.
Working full-time as a palliative care nurse for the past seven years, I’ve rediscovered my inner-child, revisited all the things I dreamed about as a kid.
I don’t think there’s one single person on this earth that hasn’t felt alone and afraid.
When you are able to describe very intense emotions/feelings that you have felt personally – in any form of literature and other people can relate – that is pretty awesome.