Monthly Archives: August 2016
This happened a long time ago but it stings to think about it. It’s why Facebook friends weren’t really friends. It’s what it means to be socially othered. It’s when you get the message that no one gives a shit about you.
When I was desperate for housing, way back when, I saw a few of my other college buddies also looking for places. They asked on Facebook. Voila, instantly, another person from my college offered them a room or part of their home. Now these were people that knew me and knew that I, too, was looking. I was not offered a place nor offered anything. I also noticed my friends from college weren’t speaking to me anymore. I was so turned off I wanted to cry. And yes, envious a little bit, too. Why others seemed to have it so much easier and I got discrimination and loathing. After that happened multiple times I really wanted to get away from everyone. I knew something very bad had happened, behind my back, something I hadn’t even started. They were talking, and whatever they were saying, whoever started it sure did not do me any favors. The blocking, denying, not talking to me anymore, unanswered emails, unfriending, bullying, and nasty comments were just too much.
I guess maybe six weeks ago I spoke to the college dean. This was after a nasty argument I had with someone at the college that I had known well. I was shocked over the whole thing and realized that this was discrimination, plain and simple. I went to the college Handbook and checked their policies. Sure enough, whatever policies were in place had sure not been followed.
So I pointed this out to the dean.
- As an alum, I am still a member of the Goddard community, as per the Handbook.
- If my behavior post-Goddard was objectionable to anyone, the policy states that I should have been notified of that specific behavior that someone or the group found objectionable. It seems that they were vague and couldn’t pinpoint a behavior at all. Instead, rather nonspecific terms were used to describe my character, such as “negative” and other words that are basically meaningless terms. They didn’t find any specific objectionable behavior. Sounds to me like someone did a psychic reading on me and decided they didn’t like what the 8-Ball said. Impressive, eh?
- I was not ever notified. Instead, there was an obvious group motion to cease communication with me. I pointed out to the Dean that the Silent Treatment is an immature and ineffective way to communicate one’s needs and requests. if the group did not like my behavior, the Silent Treatment did not effectively state that to me.
- The Handbook states that following notification, there should be arbitration or some kind of bargaining so that some agreement can be reached. Clearly, this was never done. Instead, there was no communication. I was cut off from the college community because one or two influential and people in high authority decided for their own personal reasons that they felt threatened by me. This was discriminatory.
- The eventual effect on me was not good. I cannot hold Goddard responsible for that effect, however, doing the Silent Treatment to a person is extremely unkind. What resulted was that I felt devastated that my beloved friends had stopped communicating with me. I didn’t know why. I had no understanding of the situation. Across the board, I had lost so much, including my church, including my own family, including my therapist and the doctors I had trusted for years, that I starved myself very badly, my weight dropped extemely low, and in August 2013 I nearly died. And even after that, the message was clear: no one cared.
- I told the Dean that since my friends had shown gross disrespect toward me I wanted to make it clear that I do not care for this behavior nor feel very good about it, and I don’t particularly want them back. I only want them to know that they should have acted more responsibly. The policies are there for a reason. Don’t give a person the Silent Treatment like that. It’s not nice.
- There are a couple of people who still communicate with me. God bless you for not being influenced by the hatred going around. It was so, so un-Goddard. Everything that happened was just plain wrong.
My conversation with the Dean lasted over an hour. I am hoping some action will be taken. No one should have to go through what I went through, but as I told her, I have new friends now. I got out of Goddard a great education and that is a good thing. I have moved on.
She said she would take action. I’m still waiting to hear back. I’m not sure I will.
My friend Pam made this: https://pamelaspirowagner.com/2016/08/31/do-you-work-in-in-patient-psychiatry-this-is-for-you/
So McDonald’s restaurants claims it doesn’t discriminate against developmentally disabled. What about its obvious discrimination against smart women?
In fact, my theory is that smart women are discriminated against everywhere. We are pretty much hated. Seen as a threat.
I worked for McDonald’s in Hadley Massachusetts in the summer on 1977. For that, I was jeered at by UMass faculty member Max Culpepper of the Music Department. Every time I saw Max he poked fun at me. He hummed, audibly enough for me to hear, “McDonald’s girl, McDonald’s girl,” as he walked past me. Culpepper was teaching trombone at the time. He was new to the faculty. He made sure I felt ashamed of myself.
But I couldn’t find any other job. I had searched and searched. My classmates had secured summer jobs via nepotism. My friend Jamie was the son of a man who owned a summer camp so he worked all summer long at his dad’s establishment. My friend David “knew someone” and got a job at a hotel. Ann Marie likewise “had connections” and worked every summer at the same place. I got stuck going from place to place asking. There was nothing. The recent grads were all lined up at the unemployment office. My roommates brought home Welfare cheese now and then. Down the end of our row house was a family with five kids on Welfare also. Ah, the joy of living in a college town.
So all that was left for a girl was McDonald’s. Last summer I had worked at a restaurant, too, but I didn’t want to go back there. The place was not run well. The previous manager had been caught embezzling. I ended up being raped by both my boss and assistant boss. I knew they wouldn’t last. Sure enough, the place closed down and honestly, I never learned the entire story.
So off I went to McDonald’s despite Culpepper’s teasing. Wow that was so mean, but I never said a word. Right away I noticed something. The girls worked the registers and the boys were automatically put on the grill and got higher pay right away. Was this at all fair? No!
They know it’s “risky” to hire smart girls who know enough to question their hiring practices. I did! Immediately I was given a bunch of excuses and a reprimand.
A few weeks later I saw the assistant boss tossing out perfectly good food. He was tossing it out into the trash. Again, I questioned this, saying I had neighbors who could use this food. Why was he tossing it out? Again, I got that look, and another reprimand. Don’t question authority. They don’t like that.
I was fired.
They didn’t fire the other girls, the girls who kept their traps shut, the girls who showed some skin when they were told to, who never questioned the unfair hiring practices and all the stuff that didn’t make sense. Are they still working for McDonald’s now? Oh, how nice, minimum wage went up. And the guys, meanwhile, got promoted to upper management. But no one questioned, did they?
I found this in my files today. I thought it was worth a laugh or two,
MOST MEMORABLE INSULTS I EVER HEARD WHILE I WAS A MENTAL PATIENT
“The root cause of most people’s problems lies buried in childhood. It was your mother, wasn’t it?” –1981
“You’re nothing but a typical spoiled Jewish girl.” –1982
“We think something’s wrong with you. We don’t know what it is, though.” –1983
“You can trust us. We’re professionals.” –1983
“We’ll accept you. We’ll discuss the finances with your parents.” –1984
“Why would you even consider going back to college?” –1984
“We’ve got the perfect drug for you. There are risks. We don’t really know why we’re giving it to you. It might help.” –1992
“The fastest and most effective way to treat depression that we know about is shock treatments. We can show you a videotape that will completely convince you they are safe.”—1995
“There’s nothing wrong with your brain. Why are you complaining?”—1996
“I never said you were incapable. You could get an entry-level, part-time job.” –1996
“You are not capable of sitting in a room full of people.” –1997
“We are sorry, but we feel you are in need of long-term institutionalization because you are not capable anymore.”
“You don’t belong in graduate school. Why are you even trying? You won’t succeed.” –2004
“You are not capable of living on your own without constant supervision.” –2011
“Other patients are more worthy of our time than you are.” –2011
“You may be articulate, but you won’t get anywhere with it.” –2012
“I am giving you this drug to stop you from writing.” –2013
“Human rights are trivial.” –2013
“You have a useless master’s degree.” –July 2013
“I would let you go home, but if I did and then something happened to you, I would be held responsible and I could be sued. My reputation is at stake, don’t you understand?” –2013
“You have no awareness of your own condition.” –2013
“You are dangerous.” –2013
“We will let you come back and treat you just like everyone else, but only if you agree to not to write. –2014
Conclusion: They just couldn’t handle their own feelings about their patients. We were so much smarter, so much wiser, more talented, more interesting to talk to, more intuitive, and by all means, funnier. I think they needed to go smoke some pot or something to calm their nerves, instead of doing what they did to us.
It’s very normal to ask yourself questions about life and death. By the time you’re a teen, you’ve probably thought of suicide, or know someone who has.
If not, maybe it’s time to start thinking about life and death. What happens to a person after they die? Some people believe in an afterlife, and some do not. How can we discuss this together? Or how can we each think of this when we are alone? And what do we do if a person or pet we love dies? Is it okay to be sad? What if we are sad for a long time?
Have you ever thought of suicide? I have. If you did, what happened next?
Before I thought of it for myself, I knew other people who had tried it. They told me what happened. Some were friends of mine. They had thought and thought and thought of offing themselves. Some never did. One or two tried.
I had heard that person would end up in a hospital if they ever dared do a thing like that. Or they could die. If they died, the rest of us would be sad.
I wondered about those hospital places. I lived near three big looming hospitals when I was a kid. These were old places and they were all built on the same swampland.
Metropolitan State Hospital
and the Fernald School, which wasn’t a hospital. My mom said it was an “institution.”
Near there was a duck pond. My mom said it was very special Conservation Land. She said the developers better stay away from that beautiful land. She took me there many times. We even went walking there, out in the trails and such.
Met State was build on the lower part. Yep, probably swampland. McLean was on the hill, but the hills rolled down and down and wound into woods and trees, apple and pear trees and secret paths where deep into history many people hand hung themselves I suppose. Famous rich people. And also people we never knew about it who were janitors at McLean.
Fernald closed down I think. I’m not sure. My mom used to drive past there with me and my brothers in the car. I asked her many times about those dark, old. buildings, but she didn’t seem to know much. I wondered if anyone was there. What would happen if I took my bike and went over there with some candy? Would they want candy? Should I ask?
Then I found out, much later. If you ever dare try killing yourself you end up in a hospital, but not the kind where babies are born. Another kind. I wondered what it would be like. I saw movies about such places. I figured it would be just like summer camp. Lots of games, arts and crafts, horses, fields to romp in, nice counselors, archery, sports, and croquet. No proper mental hospital would be complete without a croquet set just like we had at home.
Hmm….Then in that case, might as well drop out of life and go have some luxury fun at taxpayer expense. But let me tell you, the movies are lying. Yep, lying. It’s not like summer camp in those places. If you ever think of suicide, first of all….
It’s a normal thought that many people have.
It’s not a crime to think about it.
It does not mean you are bad.
It does not mean you are sick, nor wrong, nor evil.
It does not mean anything about “mental illness,” which is only some corporate invention.
By all means, it does not make you a monster, nor any less of a human being.
In fact, if you ever think of death, it kinda proves you’re mortal, as we all are. You’re just getting in touch with that mortality.
Tell that to your doctor if he tries to put you away. I hear “suicide” is one of those buzzwords you shouldn’t say to a doctor otherwise they really can have you locked up. In those places, they drug people, treat them like animals, and keep them behind locked doors. Afterward, you have diagnosis on record that’s hard to get rid of. And you suffer the aftereffects of trauma. I’d say it’s pretty degrading being in those places.
If locking people up is their idea of saving lives, then what do they know about compassion and caring?
Instead, you might be better off telling someone that actually cares about you. Or keeping it to yourself. Often, these thoughts just go away on their own very quickly.
Friends of mine have told me that when they had suicidal thoughts they’ve taken themselves to hospitals because they thought it was the right thing to do. Because their doctors had told them to do that if they had those thoughts. What happens? They show up, then ten minutes later, they feel fine. They no longer feel suicidal, but they cannot get out of where they are, and they very much wish they could go home. Unfortunately, they’re stuck in the ER, then transferred to some godawful place for like a month. Because no one’s listening anymore, and no one cares.
Trust me, I have seen that so, so many times. Taxpayer money is housing these people, folks. It’s not helping, it’s worsening the problem. More on the unemployment rolls, more disability, more broken families, more poverty.
How easy, how convenient. Adolescence is prime time, a great candidate for psychiatry. Here’s the link:
Let’s face it, they can be tempted to drop out of school and “stay with us for a while,” but then, there’s the college loan, right? Simple. Give them enough disabling drugs and a few rounds of ECT to knock down their IQ scores some 40 points or so, and they’ll never remember pi, oh, how they had that memorized out to how many digits? Never mind…..now unable to solve the Rubik’s Cube….which will put them on the “disabled for life” rolls…..NO MORE LOAN. I guarantee that the cushy halfway house might even look nice to their worried parents. Use it as advertising hype. “We can even get his loan discharged.” Ah, no more worries about those overdue books the MIT library has been hounding him about the entire time he was incarcerated. Call him incapacitated.
What a nice bed, what nice curtains. His parents give him a calculator so he can figure out his “medication doses.” And a talking alarm clock. They pat the boy on the head and assure him it’s only a side-effect. If he cries when they leave him there, they tell him to go to staff. Next time when they return he’ll show off his crayon drawing, and the teddy bear his favorite staff gave him.
“We knew he didn’t fit in somehow. That imbalance theory provides the perfect explanation.”
Hey dudes, listen up. Ditch the teddies. You didn’t fit in because you had better plans, didn’t you….. Run. We’re waiting right here.
Here’s the link:
It happens especially in cases when the suspect is young and vulnerable. An analysis of 125 proven false confessions found that 33% of the suspects were juveniles at the time of arrest, and at least 43% were either mentally disabled or ill. Another study of 340 exonerations found that 13% of adults falsely confessed compared to 42% of juveniles. And nearly half of the exonerated children were put behind bars because of something they said to police without an attorney present.
Correction: DIAGNOSED or PERCEIVED as mentally ill. Mental illness cannot be proven. So anyone who “is” mentally ill is either MI via DIAGNOSIS or PERCEPTION. Neither of these is scientifically valid. However, either method of MI, either diagnosis or perceived MI can get you behind bars, or otherwise locked up, due to police profiling.
I can tell you plenty of real life examples out of my own experience. Don’t even call them to report a crime because even if someone else did wrong, the perceived or diagnosed MI will end up locked up or threatened. Why? It’s easy and convenient to do so. Societal myths support locking up perceived or diagnosed MI. It’s called “treatment.” They say “it is for your own good.”
And if you complain about how the cops treated you, most people will call you a nut, and you’ll be told the cops were only “taking precautions.” Bullshit.
The best way to lure the feminists into silence….tell them therapy is feminist…..It’s a great advertisting secret
This isn’t that hard to figure out. How do we silence the feminists? They’re making too much noise! Well? The government controls the media. Hire some writers to write articles (Huff-post style will do) about how “great” therapy is for various trendy “women’s” problems….
Dieting…Oh, she’s so unhappy….
Aches and pains…
Marriage woes….He’s unfaithful so she needs therapy. Of course. It’s the answer!!!
\She can’t please her demanding husband so she must need a therapist. Her period hurts so she needs therapy. Her boyfriend beat her up so she should go straight to the analyst’s couch and never get up again.
Where have all the feminists gone? Long time passing…..
I dated a man for a month and broke up with him abruptly. I might as well make public my reasons why I broke up with him. I’m sure he isn’t reading this, and most likely he won’t find me here. He isn’t internet savvy and there are so many of me out there that I am sure I get mixed up with all the others. And if he does I really do not care. He needs to learn a lesson. Let this be a lesson to any other man who tries the same stunt.
I won’t go into the details to how we met and our “courtship” or any of the various adventures, just for privacy’s sake. I’ll just tell you the objectionable thing that caused me to end the relationship. The reason is that this is a common thing. I am not the only one!
I did not allow him to visit nor spend the night. At first I planned to do so, but as the relationship wore on, I realized that maybe I needed to hold back. So I continued to do as I was doing. He did not know exactly where I lived. Somehow, he concluded that I lived in a house around the corner from me, maybe x kilometer away, on a different street. Instead of correcting him I allowed the error to stand. I pretended I was going home in that direction at night. I allowed him to drop me off at the wrong place. Then I looped back home later when the coast was clear.
Ladies, after the breakup you will be so glad you did it this way. Especially if you find out the guy you have been dating has a history of stalking, or if there’s any possibility he may stalk. Play it safe. Do you really want your ex to show up at the door? Do you really want him to drive past and hound you? You don’t need that.
Here’s what happened. He lives with a relative, so I couldn’t spend the night at his place. We ended up spending time at hotels. Yes, he paid, and it was his idea, not mine. He never spent the night. We spent a few hours, then left. I was not happy about that. It seemed he wanted the space “for sex” and not to spend time with me. I felt used.
He offered a couple of times to help me pay for an apartment. Now at first I thought (and you might think, too) “Oh, how nice.” Yeah I did think “Oh how nice” until I realized the fine print:
He pays part of the rent. I get the apartment, me and Puzzle. But he spends the night whenever he damn pleases and gets free sex whenever he wants.
Oh, how nice. For him. Sex and a pad. Whenever HE wants. And he pays a little money. She cooks, cleans, and….
Yes, it’s prostitution. He pays, he gets sex.
Well, I told him I couldn’t find any places. Then, he started getting demanding. He started insisting I get a place, demanding that I start looking immediately, telling me how much HE needed the place and needed the sex.
He told me that the fact that he’d been deprived was my responsibility to “take care of.”
I blocked his number from my phone and he will not reach me. He does not know my email. He does not know how to use email anyway.
Men need to know that they cannot do what he did. He was demanding that I play the role of prostitute and I will not do that.
I’m proud to be a brainy woman. Long ago I made up my mind I’m not a piece of tits and ass. I am well aware that others feel threatened by noncompliant women. Let it be known that we do not need “treatment” for anyone else’s discomfort.
Medical examiners……Conflict of interest?
Moral: Do not shake the baby. Shake milkshakes instead. If they accuse you of shaking the baby, and you didn’t do it, shake your head in disgust and come talk to us over here. At least we can commiserate.