A taste of “Oh! Take a shit, read a story” – My Mother on Flash Fiction :

Published June 13, 2017 by Nan Mykel

About

About us:

On his way to Russia, Ben fell out of the airplane directly on top of Nikita. Ben used to be a writer and Nikita used to be an artist, but the remaining number of barely workable limbs were only enough to make one body.

So, Ben and Nikita sit, stitched together, paralyzed, and in agony. Unable to give up their joy of creating art, they use the money made from suing the airline to pay a small Russian boy named Sasha to write and draw for them based on the pain-medication induced hallucinations they suffer through each day.

Our Challenge: (Began October 17, 2016)

Each day, Ben writes a flash fiction story, sends it to Nikita, he draws a picture based on the story. Our goal is to do this for 365 days. One story, one picture, per day for one year. So far, so good

Be aware of this site: Just thought you’d like to know

Published June 13, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Welcome to the Sibling Survivors Site!

By WebMaster | January 4, 2015 | Information

4 Comments

The Sibling Survivors of Suicide Loss site aims to provide a safe place for anyone who has lost a sister or brother to suicide. It’s a place to share memories, discuss your feelings and experiences, and to share photos. It’s a place to connect with others who also miss their sister or brother.

The site was created in 2001 by Michelle Linn Gust. She passed the site on to the POS-FFOS Internet Community in November of 2014. It officially re-opened on January 4, 2015.

We invite you to explore the site and participate. We need you; help us make this site a safe and supportive place for other sibling survivors. You can participate by Creating a Guest Post, sharing an Inspirational Thought or Message, or Writing a Letter to your Sibling. Please see those pages for more information.

Sibling Survivors is maintained by volunteers from the Parents of Suicides (POS) and Friends and Families of Suicides (FFOS) Internet Community and others. Learn more about these groups on the About Us page.

WhatswrongwithMom

Published June 13, 2017 by Nan Mykel

April 27, 2017whatswrongwithmomAnxiety, Depression, Loneliness, marriage, Parenting, PTSD

I think it will require a few postings to empty myself of all this sadness. So in my fuzzy-brained state, I am trying to measure just how depressed I am and all I can come up with is more than usual. A lot more than usual. And I know exactly what got me here, but I cannot tell how deep into the sadness I am. So I’ve called this posting Part 1 because I’m pretty sure they’ll at least be a Part 2. And maybe more…(Visit site for more)

Try explaining suicide to children (a reblog).

Published June 13, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Did this cause you to quit blogging? Touching material. Hope you’re still blogging somewhere.

From:    S
Date:    Friday, September 06, 2002 09:00To:      JSubject:

Oh J,

Life just doesn’t get any more fucked up than this.

Barry’s mother killed herself on Tuesday morning.

It’s all so strange, I’m struggling to understand any of it. The phone rang just after 3am, phone is on Barry’s side of the bed, he answered it, groggy and said “Hello, Oh, Yes, I understand. Yes, ok.” and he hung up.

I asked who it was, he said Paul [his step-father]. I asked what on earth does he want at 3am?”Mum just killed herself” he said as he rolled over and went to sleep! I thought I’d misunderstood – I shook him and he repeated himself. J, I was so shocked. I didn’t understand what had happened, I didn’t understand his response, I didn’t understand if it was real. I asked him to please get up. He said “No” that we’d “Deal with it in the…

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Early Haiku Attempts (6-13-17)

Published June 13, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Trump

frog eyelids slide shut

the splash of a hungry fish

dawn and night reverse

________________

Life in a Mirror

the ocean stands up

burble of creek on pebbles

the crabs are crabby

____

I didn’t know not to title them.

Do You Meet These Criteria?

Published June 12, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Back when I was researching my book I was surprised to learn that the definition of dissociation stretches all the way from “spacing out,” “reduced responsiveness,” “de-realization,” “de-personalization,” “disengagement,” “lost time” and “out-of-the-body-experiences”, all the way to what used to be called Multiple Personality Disorder, (now DID), and points in-between. What surprised me most was that even with this liberal definition of dissociation, Briere and Runtz (1988) were able to discriminate between college women who had been sexually abused and those who had not.

That’s when I began to look back over my life with new eyes, and recalled a missed opportunity for communication when my aunt asked me if I thought incest offenders should be put in prison. I realize I went inside myself and never answered her.

Briere describes spacing-out behavior and disengagement as withdrawal into a state of affective neutrality, “where thoughts and awareness of external events are, in a sense, put on hold. Most periods of disengagement are relatively brief, ranging from seconds to several minutes, and the depth of dissociation is usually quite shallow” (1992, 37-38).

anatomy lesson (20170611)-A reblog

Published June 12, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Great, fulfilling metaphor! Love the final lines, and “leave out the heart or the brain. You can’t have them both working at the same time.” A reblog.

Words and Feathers

i have taken myself
apart like those model kits
you know, the visible man

he had transparent skin
and you could see his skeleton
and organs but not his state
of mind
[though there was a small
pink brain in the tiny skull]

i open up
split in half
my body
an invisible canopic jar
pull out the spleen
the liver
the lungs
put them back
the wrong way
see if the plumbing still
works

leave out the heart
or the brain
you can’t have them both
working at the same time
instinct [which boils down
to what you want
and what you don’t want]
or reason
[but the brain is already
rubbish at that–did you
see the gorilla on the court?]

spleen
who the hell needs that
leave it out
when i shut the lid
on this transparent coffin
this brittle, see-through skin

i have less to worry about

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An Apology: Dissociation?

Published June 11, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Many years ago (as in 20) I was in a “dream group” with one other person, who would stop by my house to discuss our dreams. For some external reason it was to be our last session. I felt on a friendly basis with her, but recently I ran into her at a public gathering and while she nodded at me she avoided eye contact, and the greeting wasn’t nearly as friendly as I would have expected. I belong to a brown bag luncheon group now and as I was leaving the hostess asked if I knew ___ and I said yes and she replied that the woman had asked if I was going to be in attendance that day. Interesting, but the fact is that, possibly in response, she chose not to attend that day.

I can only guess that my mild dissociative tendencies had kicked in after she related a dream and my failure to respond was noticeable and interpreted as specious. It was a sensitive dream and I didn’t know what to say and I think I withdrew and she felt exposed. I can’t use my mild tendency to dissociate as an excuse because it’s so amorphous. I’m recalling another possible example when I called a friend who then told me her father had just died, and I went silent, reflecting, I think. But she didn’t let me off the hook and lit into me for not responding. I apologized and told her that if she could have seen my face she should would know that I was responding, but…

Has anyone else experienced this kind of difficulty?

Does Pain Stop the Creative Juices?

Published June 10, 2017 by Nan Mykel

I’ve noticed that when something hurts physically I go to bed or its equivalence. I’m nowhere near the discomfort or seriousness of some of my followers, but I’ve also sort of shut down. I’ve realized my only Create Space-published novel needs re-working but if I live long enough to do that it’ll probably be filled with the gibbery-goo language of extreme old age. I’ve added only on my computer two final chapters and the aborted beginning of a sequel, but… At present I’ve been attempting the beginning of 2 or 3 additional novels, but it’s pretty much mush pile. Actually I’ve written 4 different beginnings for one of them. Caught in a quagmire.

I even picked up “How to Write & Sell Your First Novel” by Oscar Collier with Frances Spatz Leighton at a yard sale price of 50 cents, and possibly got an idea that I’m going to try, I think. It involves preparing a folder for every chapter, and after some degree of outlining, drop thoughts or paragraphs into those chapters as I go. So, despite having a bad leg day, I am beginning that mini-project, if I can find the blank folders without necessitating a walk to my car 50 feet away. (Complain, complain, complain!) What were the words Jim Neighbors used to use?

I will share my favorite paragraphs from my first novel–I’ve never communicated with anyone who has actually read the book, Shattered Boundaries. (I am in a position to advise you not to self-publish if you aren’t the pushy type): At this point in the novel the heroine has astral-traveled and stayed away from her body way beyond the safe limits:

…to her horror she notices that the cord has run out! When Amber reaches the house no one is home. She eases into her room and she is not there–here–either! My body is gone! Amber jumps when the phone rings. She realizes that she cannot answer it, but Rob’s voice on the answering machine does. It is a woman enquiring abut the time of the funeral.

Funeral! Who died?

MY AUTHOR’S NOTE

Published June 8, 2017 by Nan Mykel

I look in the mirror and see a strangely content woman losing her femininity to the neutering of old age. I’m not sure why I cover the gray. Perhaps I want to be seen as someone still to be reckoned with–but was I ever? The antidepressant is helping not only to keep me centered but also to bank the fires of desire.

If I were still sexually desirable would I so easily reject my sexuality? Well, yes, I suppose. I began rejecting sexuality even while still married, although then it was the experience of being valued only for sex that I could not tolerate, since it echoed my feelings that I had nothing to offer another person except sex. I never integrated sexuality into my self. I can think, create, listen well, empathize, write, draw, analyze, and have a sense of humor, but still struggle with the belief that I have little to offer a partner. And with that limitation the experience of romance and intimacy is not available to me.

There are many lessons already learned and incorporated. I am not sarcastic, I am not bitter. I do not “bad mouth” others. I no longer play Pitiful Pearl and Wooden Leg games. And since becoming an adult I have never used any power advantage to hurt others.

And I am not special, although I still struggle with this. During many years of “keeping the secret” and believing that I had wielded great magnetic power destructively, I did feel special–especially destructive, especially wicked, especially confused in the head. I still feel different from others. It’s a weird mix of feelings, debased and inflated, and is a flip-flop many survivors have come to know well.

Like many others, I am haunted not only by my father but by my response to him. Problems with perspective and judgment have always dogged my steps, in addition to the fallout of feeling shame. Although I rationally know better, in my eternal reality I stole my father from my mother. I am the other woman in her life. I am his partner in crime.

So at this point in time and probably until the end of my time, I am a survivor but not a victim….Instead of trying to change in an effort to be acceptable to others, I have come to embrace myself, with all my limitations and strengths. (At least that’s what I’m aiming for). As someone once said, “I’m not okay, you’re not okay, and that’s okay.”