Just Another Story. My Tourette's #6

Page 47.
     Concerning the reaction to my TS from friends and family... where to start, where to start, where to start...?
     I had so few friends to start with, that to a certain degree, the TS couldn't have made it worse, but it did. I was a little, gay nerd in the first place. I was bullied and beaten up a lot for being unpopular and bad at sports. So did the TS really add to that?  Not really. But it did add to the feelings by my classmates that I was a freak and beneath them. Subsequently, where the physical abuse ended, the psychological abuse began.
     My family just didn't understand what was going on, nor did I. So, my mother began me in psychotherapy when I was 12 years old, 6th grade, 1973. She assumed that my ticks were psychological in nature. I do give her credit for trying on this issue. In truth, my home life was so screwed up at that point that in a parallel universe my twitches really could've been nervous in nature. But, unfortunately, they weren't. People did address the twitches to my face; but as previously mentioned, I was so closed off and distant on every front that I couldn't even acknowledge, let alone talk about, them.
     Everybody noticed the twitches and even school mates who couldn't stand me were still curious.
    
    

Just Another Story. My Tourette's #5.

Page 46.
     I started smoking cigarettes and marijuana in the 9th grade, 1976-77. Those things relieved my Tourette's A LOT. 

Just Another Story. Tourette's Syndrome #4

Page 45.
     My Tourette's was pretty consistent (unmissed by any passerby) for the first few years, 5-7th grade, then became somewhat seasonal. It was always there mind you, but became more persistent or less, depending upon the time of year. (But now that I think of it, almost right from the start, deep winter and summer weren't quite as bad as spring and autumn.) By 8th grade though, springtime was awful, just horrific. Nowadays, I'd describe my TS during those springtimes as being in "full-bloom".
     At the time, I didn't grasp that it was ever worse or better, because I couldn't look at it objectively. I was so full of self-loathing, for many reasons, that I couldn't afford to look inward, even if to say "it seems to be better or worse right now". When people are extremely scared of their own shadow, they tend to avoid looking at that shadow, instead, trying to pretend it isn't there at all.
     And running away... always running away.    

Just Another Story. Tourette's Syndrome #3

Page 44.
     I had few of the distinctive TS vocalizations during childhood, thank God. What I did have was  excessive throat clearing, cough and sigh-sounding noise. For the most part, others rarely noticed these vocal twitches though. With me, it was all about the physical twitches.

Just Another Story. Tourette's Syndrome #2

Page 43.
     My Tourette's began benignly enough, with a simple head twitch. I though that I was just flicking my head to get my bangs out of my eyes. (That really is what my twitch resembled.) These were the days of boys having long hair and one day I simply started flicking my head to get my bangs out of my eyes. Unfortunately, then I couldn't stop.
     The twitches quickly "spread". My shoulders started getting in on the action. A shoulder shrug is what that movement resembled. Then my neck started feeling left if I wasn't flicking my head. So it filled in the gaps with a move that looked like a simple stretch, over and over. Finally, my face punctuated everything with eyebrow raises and nose twitches like Samantha from TV's Bewitched.
All in all, every part of me from the shoulders up was in perpetual motion.
     I was eleven years old. I felt like an unholy, awful mess.      

Just Another Story. My Tourette's Syndrome #1.

Page 42.
     I'm going to take a little break from writing about my mother for a little while and write about me. I'll start with discussing my Tourette's Syndrome.
     As mentioned in a previous blog, I developed my first case of Strep Throat during the 5th grade. It was soon thereafter that I began developing the ticks and twitches. I couldn't have told you anything about my twitches. I flatly refused to speak of or even acknowledge my symptoms. I was highly closed off and withdrawn as a child. And I mean about everything, including my extremely obvious ticks.

Just Another Story. More About My Mother #14.

Page 41.
     My mother was very aggressive. Her mouth and fists let you know exactly how she felt. My father, on the other hand, was super passive-aggressive. This divergent life approach helped create one horrific marriage. For most of my childhood, I really thought they truly hated each other's guts. They sure acted like they did, anyhow. It was a terrible union.

Just Another Story. More About My Mother #13

Page 40.
     My mother had a great adventurer's spirit. In a alternate universe, she'd have been in the Peace Corps, digging for fossils in Ethiopia or writing for National Geographic. "Outside the box" activities were common when I was very little and inclement weather meant nothing to her. I have pleasant memories of going on picnics in January.
     Also, rules didn't apply to her. There was always a plan "B", "C", "D" or "E" to enable getting anything done. If the first 4 plans didn't work, she'd just keep going, gradually dismissing more and more societal restraints. Some of these memories are quite entertaining as well. Jane definitely had a wacky and zany side to her. It was all but overcome by mental illness as she entered her 50's, but I do vaguely remember it.
     One of my most questionable, bizarre and extra-ordinary memories dates (probably) to the summer of 1965 or '66. I was either 3 & 1/2 or 4 & 1/2.  I was shopping with her downtown during the summer and I remember, like it was yesterday, an incredible crowd of people outside in the sunshine. We went inside a building which was affixed to the Terminal Tower on Cleveland's Public Square and talked with the desk clerk. We then walked down a hallway and passed a bunch of people. The crowd inside was just as overwhelming as it was outside. But most importantly, some of the people we passed in a hallway had the strangest hair I'd ever seen. It was so weird that it would become a primary anchor for this memory in the first place. These guys looked like they had mops on their heads. We then proceeded down another hallway into the Terminal Tower itself, and then down to the trains to come back home.
     I remember the crowds, in and out, vividly. I remember the buildings, the boys with long hair and the hallway, vividly, I think because they were so unusual. Here's what I surmise actually happened that afternoon:
     The Beatles played Cleveland Stadium twice: 1965 & 1966 and they stayed in the Sheraton Hotel which was on public square, adjacent to the Terminal Tower, with Higbee's Department Store adjacent on the other side. My mother wanted to do some shopping and walking around, not realizing the human traffic jam of teenaged girls we would encounter once on Public Square. We got caught up in the sea of humanity and she needed to get us out. She faked her way into the hotel as a guest just to get from "here to there". We then walked through the hotel's corridors, passed the "boys" as they were walking along, into the Tower and down to the train station.
     I really believe that's what happened. And if you knew my mother's ability to fake her way into or out of anything, well... you wouldn't even question my memory. I've mentioned before that she was a pathological liar. She also had the acting and improvisational skills to back up anything she said. It was incredible. This is one humorous and over-the-top illustration.

Just Another Story. More About My Mother #12.

Page 39.
     My mother did occasionally cross over to paranoid psychosis. One day when I was in the 6th grade, she woke me up in the middle of the night and told me that I should cooperate with "Them" because "They" were trying to help. I, a 12 year old boy, responded "I'm not going to buy into your paranoid delusions. Now go back to sleep." I wish I were exaggerating this, but I'm not. The exact conversation was longer. She listed names of people who were in on the plan and I did ask her a couple of questions prior to telling her to go to sleep. But really, you get the gist of it.  With my response, she smiled and went back to sleep. No word was ever uttered between us about that exchange.
     She woke me up one other time that same school year.
     I asked her for some help with my pre-algebra. She couldn't figure it out so I decided to skip it and ask the teacher the next day. However, she woke me up, again at 2AM, with the problem figured out, solution and all. She'd then printed it, beautifully, in Magic Marker, with different colors, on white typing paper. It was very artistic. She explained that she wanted to make sure I got it in case she was asleep when I left for school. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt concerning her explanation. However, if it had been me, I'd have left it on the table or some other very obvious place. I think that waking me up was simply her first idea, so that's the one which was put into action. Never, ever again, literally, would I ask her for school help - as a direct result of this situation.
     I've previously mentioned that Jane was extremely upset by Watergate. I believe that she strongly identified with Nixon and psychologically deteriorated along with the scandal's growth. She even talked with me about her enemy list and how everybody has them.
     I'm sure that she was very manic at that time and her mania occasionally evolved into paranoid delusions.

Just Another Story. More About My Mother. #11

Page 38.
     My mother was rather politically active. She was a big time "letter to the editor' writer. This started in the early mid-1960's, I think.
     She was a Democrat from the time she started voting until she turned Republican in '68 to vote for Nixon. So she was a Democrat for 30 years or so and a Republican for her final handful of presidential cycles. She was usually liberal with her policies toward race, religion and creed but quite conservative on social issues like abortion, entertainment censorship and sex. She was on TV twice, I think, for being vocal with her support of the Viet Nam war and opposition to abortion. Then, she was also featured in a few newspaper articles about concerned citizens who were in favor of book banning and, again, opposition to abortion. 10 years after her death, her name was still being brought up in letters to the editor which mentioned former Cleveland-area abortion foes.
     There were certain inconsistencies with Jane's politics, as there are with everybody's. As my brothers and sisters grew up and moved out of the house, my parents rented out spare bedrooms to students at the local universities. We rented to many international students, including a great variety of Arabs; this, in spite of my parent's profound Zionist activities. However, they wouldn't rent to Blacks, even though they had deep friendships with Black people and supported the Black cause more than the average for their generation. Also, one day when I was a mid-teen, she told me why she was so opposed to abortion. But then she told me that I should talk with people who felt differently and make up my own mind. And, when I was in the 7th grade, she read one of my assigned English readings and proceeded to complain extremely loudly in the newspaper about "the books Johnny reads in school". But she never told me that I couldn't read it.
     To have a political discussion with her about anything was to engage in a screaming match if you disagreed with her. Those who didn't know better, learned the hard way.
     She worked on the re-elect Nixon committee in '72 and Watergate upset her deeply. When he resigned, she said that "the Libs won." She was equally upset with Ford for pardoning Nixon because she thought the pardon implied Nixon's guilt and she wanted the scandal to go to trial so his innocence could be proved. She thought the entire scandal was fabricated by Nixon's Liberal enemies.
     Jane began quieting down a great deal by the mid-late '70's because she thought the new "Moral Majority" were anti-Semites. She knew that she agreed with much of their politics, but was very hesitant to align with Born-Again Christians. She equated them, practically, with Nazis.

Just Another Story. More About My Mother #10.

Page 37.
     My mother allegedly had Scarlet Fever as a child. This left her with a weak heart.
     After having 5 children she developed a weight problem. She was heavy, but not extraordinarily fat. She was 5'5" and topped out at 190. That's big, but by 2014 standards, it's nothing.
     She always claimed to have a hearing issue, but could hear a box of Sara Lee being opened in the basement even if she was on the second floor.
     In 1975, while in the mental hospital after 3 suicide attempts, her retinas detached and she was then blind for the rest of her life. This was genetic and would possibly, but not definitely, have happened anyhow, regardless of what she put her body through with the drugs. She retained peripheral vision, though over time, that diminished as well. Nowadays, there's laser repair for this condition, if caught fast enough. But 1975 was years and years prior to treatment.
     Imagine being so depressed that you attempt suicide 3 times in 1 summer, only to have all those attempts fail, but you're left blind. 

Just Another Story. More About My Mother #9

Page 36.
      My mother couldn't hold a job, though she tried.
     In 1961, when she was 42 and already had 4 other children, I was born. Then, she went back to school while I was still in diapers. She graduated and received her M.A. within a few years. Talk about intelligence and fortitude! For the next five+ years she tried to get full time employment. But, to no avail. Her personality and work history always got in the way.
     You see, she was extremely alienating, rigid, self-righteous and arrogant. She couldn't accept criticism and was so insecure that she interpreted any type of correction as an insult. These qualities made for one difficult employee.
     Around 1971 or so, she finally landed a job doing clerical work at Case Western Reserve University, her alma mater. I'll never forget how excited she was. She went out shopping with my sisters and bought a new wardrobe of "working girl" clothing. She was effervescent with excitement as she went off to work on that first Monday. According to family folk-lore though, by Friday, they told her that it wasn't working out because of her disruptive personality. She begged and pleaded for another chance, which they granted. She was subsequently fired the next Friday, again, just because she was so difficult to get along with.  
     On a few occasions, I saw her in action. I remember that when I was little, I was occasionally dragged to committee meetings, club meetings or what have you. I saw that even when dealing with superiors, let alone people of equal or lower status, she became officious, argumentative, contrary and defensive. It would be decades before I truly understood what I'd seen. If something wasn't done her exact way, she'd go through the roof, even in situations where she was the newest or least knowledgeable in the room. She was the first person in a group to raise a voice in anger and aggravation. Imagine that in a brand new co-worker or 3 days. This record followed her until the end.

Just Another Story. More About My Mother #8

Page 35.
     According to family folklore, my father discovered my mother's rage when they arrived home from their honeymoon.
     Prior to leaving for their get-a-way, Jane ordered some new furniture which was supposed to have arrived and been set up in their apartment while they were gone. There was some sort of problem, it didn't show up as scheduled and she went off. I don't know exactly what she did, but I can guess. My guess will appear in a future blog. Suffice it so say, my father allegedly began sleeping with a butcher knife under his pillow to protect him from her. Jane was a rageaholic. I grew up witnessing and being subject to domestic violence.
     To this day, I've never completely figured out why the words "domestic violence" automatically implicate the husband or father in so many minds. 

Just Another Story. My Mother's Life #7

Page 34.
     According to legend, my mother may have had a nervous breakdown at some point during her childhood or teen years. But she definitely had one in the spring of 1966 and was subsequently institutionalized in a mental hospital for some time. Her next institutionalization would be in the summer of 1975, soon after her 3rd suicide attempt in a few weeks. I was 4 the first time and 13 the second. 

Just Another Story. My Mothers Life #6

Page 33.
     My mother returned from the South Pacific in 1945 an alcoholic. I think she may have gone to AA for a very short time but then stopped going to meetings and stopped working the steps. She stayed abstemious from alcohol for most of her remaining life, except for the last year or few, but she wasn't happy about it during that 30 plus years. When an alcoholic can't drink, but they haven't learned the devices by which to live a functional existence, then they become even more dysfunctional, if that's possible, and it is. This phenomenon is called a "dry drunk". Meaning the person isn't drinking or drugging, the "dry" part, but their behaviors and actions are those of an active addict, the "drunk" part.
     Jane then became addicted to speed and Valium during the 1950's, '60's and '70's. Many housewives did the same thing at the time. Doctors didn't realize the side effects and so prescribed those happy, little pills with reckless abandon to any and all housewife who asked. But Jane really had fun with them. She had an absolute ball.

Just Another Story. My Mother's Life #5

Page 32.
     My mother and father married in May, 1950 and had their first child, my oldest sister, in September, 1951. Jane would have 4 more kids, with me being the last, in 1961. She resumed working outside of the home and attending school when I was very young. She taught for a short period when I was quite little and would get get her M.A. in childhood education from Case Western Reserve University in the late '60's, but rarely worked after the mid-1960's due to deteriorating mental health status and debilitating physical health issues.

Just Another Story. My Mother's Life #4

Page 31.
     After Jane returned from the South Pacific in '45, she became a social worker, a profession at which she was successful. In late-winter 1950, Cleveland experienced an horrific blizzard. Some older Clevelanders still remember it and talk about it. My mother was stranded at work as the street cars were unable to move. A co-worker remembered that she had an acquaintance who had a hearty work truck and she phoned him to see if he could pick up Jane and drive her home. That truck's owner would become my father, Bernard. My parents married May 21st, 1950. Jane was 31 and my father was 43. Neither one could predict what would hit them. If any 2 people should never have gotten married, it was those 2.  

Just Another Story. My Mother's Childhood #3

Page 30.
     At some point in her late teens, one of her aunts did take my mother in for some amount of time. In Cleveland Heights High School she excelled. She was in the world renown CHHS choir and was also on swim cadettes, performing in The Great Lakes' World Exposition of 1937. She attended college, possibly graduating from Cooper School of Art in Youngstown, Ohio. She also dated one gentleman "David" heavily and married him, allegedly to prove to her aunt that she was a "good girl". After "8" months the marriage ended and was annulled, for reasons that no family folklore knows. But further mystery reasons, Jane kept his last name. After the split, they both proceeded to join the army. My mother was a WAC and served in the Philippines under MacArthur. "David" died in service. My middle brother is allegedly named after him. (But it's equally possible that his name was Jeremy and that I'm named after him.)
     As usual with Jane, some of this is conjecture, some probably happened and some maybe not. As stated in previous blogs, my mother was a pathological liar. So, I take any and all of her biography with a grain of salt. I know for fact that she was approximately alive from 1919-1984. Those are the only undeniable truths. Now-a-days I see the humor. I do believe though that today's biographical information is possibly close to the truth. 

Just Another Story. More About My Mother's Childhood

Page 29.
     My mother lived in an orphanage during her entire childhood. She knew she had a very large family and that nobody wanted her. Her many relatives lived in various phases of financial comfort; meaning: some struggled and some didn't. The family was spread around the country, but most were in and around Youngstown, Ohio, the Hungarian immigrant family's American home. Many years after Jane's death, some family members would claim that nobody took her in because they knew that she was well-taken care of at Bellefaire, Cleveland's Jewish Orphans Home. They claimed that the family didn't have enough money to take care of an extra child as these were the depression days. Only problem with that theory was she was nearly 11 when the Depression began and, as already stated, there were some wealthy family members who could easily have taken in another young mouth.
     There's little doubt in my mind that nobody took her in because of the shame and embarrassment her illegitimacy brought. Also, I believe her personality disorders already began showing their fangs when she was a young child. People simply didn't want to be around her, even her family. That would never, ever change.
     Of her 8 aunts and uncles, only 3 was she very friendly with. Coincidentally, or not, they were all single. Aunt Ida and Uncle Joe lived together their entire lives. And Uncle Lou was gay, though at the time, pre-1970's, that was a secret. There were a couple of other aunts and uncles whom she kept in touch with. But the rest...well very little or no communication that I know of. She had equally erratic relationships with her numerous cousins.

Just Another Story: My Mother's Birth

Page 28.
     My mother, Jane, was born illegitimately, in 1919, into an Orthodox Jewish family. Her mother, Yetta, one of nine children, was, allegedly, the rebellious one. Yetta also had some serious cognitive and psychological issues, possibly caused by physical abuse at the hands of her father. Though, he was the community shochet: a highly trained and very well respected male who ceremoniously slaughtered the animals to be properly kosher and fit for consumption by Jews.
     At my mother's birth, she was immediately placed into an orphanage and Yetta was then institutionalized for the rest of her life. She died in 1985, outliving my mother by one year. Absolutely nothing is known about my mother's father, though he may have been a soldier going off to WWI. (Jane would have been conceived in May, 1918 with the armistice being signed that November.)
     Right here, I should inject that some of what I write about my mother (and father) is gleaned from much family folklore. My mother was a  pathological liar in addition to her other numerous psychiatric diagnosis and personality disorders. It's in talking with distant relatives over the course of decades that my family has created some sort of possible biography. However, what the real truth is, no one will ever know.
     One definite truth though is it's difficult to overstate how much shame, embarrassment, trauma and drama an unwed mother would have brought to her family in the Orthodox Jewish community in 1918. Try to imagine it even today. If you're unfamiliar with Orthodox Judaism, replace that denomination with today's strictest, most puritanical Evangelical Christian, Mormon or extremist Moslem. Indeed, in some Islamic countries today, death of the unwed mother-to-be at the hands of her own family, occasionally makes the international news.

Just Another Story. My Mother's Stroke.

Page 27.
     My mother died in November, 1984. I actually hadn't lived with her since July of '79 though, because that's when she had a massive stroke which left her severely incapacitated due to physical and cognitive disabilities. I was 17 at the time of her stroke and she was 60. This was the summer between my junior and senior years in high school. During the 5 &1/2 years she lived disabled, in the nursing home, I saw her, perhaps, 10-15 times. 

Just Another Story. Now, A Little About The Banquet

Page 26.
     Okay, Now you know the major casseroles I brought to the banquet on the day I was born in 1961. Tourette's Syndrome, homosexuality, an extreme form of introversion and an overly deep sense of feeling. Where to start with the banquet table which was awaiting my arrival...? Hmmmm?
     You know what? I'm going to do this in short snippets. It might be easier for me that way. I'm going to start by writing that my father died in February of 1983, a couple of months after my 21st birthday and my mother died in November of 1984, a few weeks shy of my 23rd birthday.
     Concerning the natures and causes of their deaths... all in good time...
     Completely off the subject, I'd really appreciate it if you tell your friends and co-workers about this blog. If  I get enough readers then this blog can generate money and I really need some. Thanks. Jeremy   

Just Another Story: More On My Life: Overly Deep Feelings

Page 25.
     And the fourth thing I was born with which complicates things, to this day, is an overly deep sense of emotion. I don't ever feel "okay" or "fine". And I never have. I've always felt "very"___________ (fill in the blank). And unlike the Torette's, homosexuality and introversion, I couldn't have identified it when I was 15. I didn't know that this was a thing which was different about me.
     I remember being about 19 or so and some friends told me that they felt I was very delicate. I then asked my therapist at the time about this. She disagreed up and down, declaring that I was extremely strong, but that I was a very deep feeling person. And that little quirk, on top of an unreal home-life could be misinterpreted as delicacy. My emotions tend to be so far up front that if, for example, I'm sad or lonely, which I was a REAL lot at that time (1981), well... anybody would see me as extremely depressive and easily shattered. In truth, other people have gradations of unhappy or happy. I don't. My life history is that I'm either on top of the world or suicidal. With years though, I've learned some gradations. Not as many as most people have naturally, but I'm absolutely better than I used to be.
     Over the years, I've gotten a certain handle on this quality of overly deep feeling when it's become dangerous. I do believe myself to have bi-polar disorder, but a mild form of the illness. And, I've never received treatment for it per se. When some of my depressions have become suicidal, I've gone on anti-depressants. But then I stop taking them when the depression ends. I've talked with psychiatrists about this and they're okay with my plan. Doctors trust my instincts. I know when it's the medication working or when the depression ends all by itself. It's a different feeling.
     I'm really getting off the subject right now, just please know that my emotions still rule me. I've never figured out how to be in charge of them, much to my detriment.

More On My Life: Sexuality

Page 24.
     So the third ridiculous casserole that I brought to the dinner party is homosexuality. I had my first gay crush while in the first grade. Though, of course, I couldn't have identified it as such at the time. But certainly, once I hit puberty, I knew what I wanted, and it wasn't girls.
     I was never one of those guys who thought he was straight until age 25. Then he woke up one day and viola! there it was: a preference for men. Nor was I one of those guys who needed to pretend he was straight to make his parents happy, until he couldn't take it anymore. Nope. I was gay as hell right from the start. And everybody knew it. I acted "gay" and you know what I mean: I seemed effeminate, had a gay voice and was poor at sports. There was just no mistaking it and all my family, friends, classmates and anybody whom I came in contact with knew it. As I joke nowadays, Helen Keller would have known that I was gay. It was no joke back then though.
     But it still took a back seat to the Tourette's where the teasing from my classmates was concerned. Well... depending upon the day. See, because of my Tourette's I was really in my own category for "freak". There are average outcasts in every school: fags, nerds, spazes and so forth. But my Tourette's was just so outside the realm of experience for my classmates and teachers, I was in my own universe. And put all this in an extremely shy person who only ever wanted to blend into the woodwork. It was a bad dream. But it was real.

More On My Life: Introversion

Page 23.
     I'll get back to my Tourette's later on. But for now, let me write about one more of the four  sour-tasting casserole I brought to the table on the day I was born. (This is to imply that I also brought some wonderful gifts and talents with me when I arrived. Those shouldn't be negated. But when everything seems terrible, it's difficult, if not impossible, to see the jewels. And my first 20 years were terrible. I didn't know what a jewel was.) 
     I'm intensely introverted. I don't mean "shy". Oh... no. No, no, no. "Shy"doesn't even come close to describing it. And it was over the top when I was young. Like my Tourette's, I'm often successful at camouflaging it nowadays on a casual basis, but not always. Sometimes there are real issues.
     For example, my introversion has often gotten in the way of holding jobs. I go through jobs and careers with great speed and my fear of people and my need to be alone is a primary reason. Admittedly, there are a variety of colorful reasons why I can't hold a job, but an extreme form of introversion is one of the primary ones.
     Also, I've never been in a romantic relationship. I'm now my early '50's and have never had anything related to romance in my life. Bizarre, but true. And the reason is that same, stupid brand of over-the-top introversion which has stood in the way of career fulfillment. To clarify, there are other reasons why there's been no romance, but this is numero uno. Don't get me wrong... I've gotten laid. But that's not what I'm looking for. Some guys only want that. I'm not one of them.
     Life-Altering Introversion. Honestly, of all my characteristics, that's the one which is most in competition with the Tourette's to see how badly they can complicate things.
     To be continued...

Tourette's Syndrome

Page 22.
     By any standard my childhood was unusual, and not in a good way. I realize that people have been tossing around the term "dysfunctional" since the early '80's or so and it's gotten to the point that the phrase doesn't mean anything anymore. For the sake of this blog though, let' say that all families are dysfunctional, but they just exist on a continuum. Leave It To Beaver's family would be a 10. Meaning: they occasionally have real problems and some of them never get fixed in a healthy way but most do. And even for the ones that don't get fixed, the family still navigates through without life-threatening psychological or physical trauma or residue. The Manson Family would be a 1. Meaning: drugs/alcohol; manipulation/control/authoritarianism; physical/sexual/emotional abuse; serious long-term physical and or mental health issues; religious extremism; violence. Mine probably came in at about a  2.5. That's pretty severe.
                                                                             ***
     I believe that the moment any child is born, they arrive at a table which is already set for dinner. And, as previously mentioned, my family's dinner table was a 2.5/10. That was no Four Seasons Restaurant in New York City. But then, additionally, because life is a pot-luck, each child brings with them certain dishes, in addition to the dishes which are awaiting them. And I truly believe that every child is absolutely born with a distinctive personality (and quirks).
                                                                              ***
      One of the casseroles which I arrived with is Tourette's Syndrome. I'm basically a text book case of TS. It was and is awful. I got strep throat in the 5th grade and haven't been the same since and that was the school year 1972-73. Thankfully, I never had the worst of the vocalizations. I had and have moderate forms of that. With me it was primarily the ticks. The entire upper 25% of my body was in perpetual motion when I was a kid. My head ticks, facial movements and shoulder shrugs were very severe. I describe it this way to friends: If you'd stood behind me on the escalator in Macy's, going from the first floor to the second, by the time you got off, you'd have whispered to your companion, "what was wrong with that kid?" I was truly a "Phil Donahue Kid". Do you remember when Tourette's began coming out of the closet in the mid '80's and they were featuring those kids on Phil Donahue? I was definitely one of them, again, with my ticks, not vocalizations.
     It was just awful. I had so many fears for so many reasons, and then to have TS on top of that... What was God thinking? It was horrific.
     To be continued... 

I'm Merging Blogs

Page 21.

Oscar Neimeyer - Architect

     Dear readers: I'm too busy to write two blogs. This blog and my other blog, How To Cook Children are just a little bit too much for me right now. Subsequently, I've decided to merge the two. This blog, "The Mystery Of One Self" is really quite new and I'm very surprised by how quickly I've gained a devoted readership. Though it's small, it's regular. I feel very blessed. My other blog is over a year old and has many regular readers. The primary focus of the other blog is on my experiences working with children as a male nanny and cook. Secondarily, I write about my experiences and thoughts as a Clevelander. To add my spiritual philosophies, which for the last few months have been in this blog, would be to add another texture to that blog and remove some unnecessary pressure from my current workload. (Admittedly, I also occasionally write about things which have nothing to do with anything. They're just random thoughts and they have to go somewhere.)
     So please start reading www.cookchildren.blogspot.com to continue hearing my thoughts about The Spirit, God, Hope, Appreciation and all the other things which make this universe a little bit more palatable. Thanks very much for your readership of this blog and thanks in advance for switching over to the other one. I truly appreciate the support.