Recommended Firefox add-on “Disable Ctrl Q”

Were you using Firefox the other day, as I was, and suddenly, the entire browser disappeared?

No, you’re not having a “senior moment.” Frankly I think such remarks such regarding the “senior moment” and “you must be getting old” are a gross insult to real seniors and should be struck from the language right now!

Most likely, you typed Ctrl Q. This is too easy to do! Did you really intend to type a capital letter Q instead, and by accident, pressed the CTRL button? Has your browser been doing disappearing acts lately every time you begin a sentence with the letter Q? Quite likely, yes.

No, it isn’t hiding inside the piano next to the Afikoman. It isn’t hiding in the cupboard with the cookies. Your Firefox browser is supposed to “kill on demand” whenever you type in CTRL+Q because developers thought people liked that. WE DO NOT!

Please download the handy disable extension. Dear Extension Developer, you got a fan right here…….

I don’t like being told I’m getting old. See here, all you kiddies…Play ball!

Why are we hearing more and more horror stories about airlines treating disabled passengers with such disrespect?

I have a horror story of my own that pales by comparison, so much so that I don’t even bother telling it. I have heard stories lately that will blow your mind. Stories of airlines, major ones, that won’t allow wheelchairs on board, not even in the cargo area. This is what these airlines do: The passenger boards, without the wheelchair, and then, these airlines just leave the wheelchair in the departure city! I have now read three horror stories like this, including threats to the disabled passenger, treating him/her like a criminal simply for asking, “Hey, where’s my wheelchair?”

My own horror story didn’t end up too badly. It was over drinking water, as you can guess. I was on a long flight. I asked for water and was told, “No.”

I was so thirsty I thought I would steal from the other passengers if I had the guts. I didn’t.

From then on if the flight was going to be a long one, over three hours, all I had to do was to alert the airline or just tell them on my way in that I had a minor medical condition (emphasis on minor) and to expect me to ask for water, or simply to offer me water periodically.

If the flight is overnight this is especially important. While the passengers are asleep the flight attendants assume that I am asleep, too. They don’t offer water, nor ask. But I often need it, and sometimes, I can’t get the attention of the flight attendants without bothering other passengers. I have learned, since my minor horror story of being refused, to tell the flight attendants prior to boarding. It’s not necessary to put in any “special requests,” because they get all panicky over that. In fact, it’s best to act casual over it, but also to be firm and clear. “I will need water. Don’t forget to ask me.”

It would be nice if airlines also offered non-salty snack food, but that’s probably more than they can handle. If I ever fly again I think I will go buy bulk unsalted raw almonds before I fly, and carry my own empty water bottle. (Don’t bring peanuts on an airline for the sake of the other passengers. Some can’t even breathe near peanuts.)

It seems like any special requests nowadays means you’re a criminal. What is this world coming to?

I feel happy and calm, and the minimalist lifestyle is the way I like to go!

Ah, I am enjoying my dinner and it is delicious! I can’t believe how litte money I have spent these days, and I don’t seem to be lacking for anything at all.

I don’t miss the 87 channels (of what?). Do you have antennae? Last I checked, mine were on my head, sticking up in the air I think, but they broke off and I have not replaced them. I don’t think as a human being I really need a set of those, do you? Only on Halloween.

My fridge broke, so I have a new one. A mini one. I think you all’s call this type a “dorm fridge.” On the piece of papel that came with it (very brief instructions I must say) I note that it uses up, in USD if I translate exchange rate okay, something like $20 per year. This means 1/6 of what my old one (landlord-supplied) was using. I pay for electric so that means I SAVE. My old fridge will be used as shelving and will stay unplugged for now. Ah, room decor! I love my new one. It is so much quieter, too.

I look back on all those therapists. “I will teach you how to quiet your mind.” Since when do they “hear” what is happening in my mind? Can they hear actual noise coming out of it? Really? Okay, I have heard about brain disorders, but now, there’s this terrible problem of needing to QUIET one’s mind! Oh no, a noisy mind! Geez…..

Listen, if I truly had that problem I know I’d be going nuts here, don’t you think? Even the teensiest TV in the house next door to me bugs me, or a boom box way down the street. If those therapists were right, and my brain was so defective that it had a noise that needed quieting, then maybe I should have called up God and asked for a REFUND.

Dear God on High, How much of a refund can I get? It seems this Authority Figure claims I have a noisy brain! Can I send it back and get an even exchange for a Dead on Arrival one? What about my ticker? It’s ticking? How about one that doesn’t?

It seems that the therapist has more of a problem with me than I have with me.

Maybe, then, she should be the one calling God and complaining about the noise level if she doesn’t like it. Maybe she should just do a mass shooting to see to it that everyone is silent and dead.

I guess that’s what therapy does, turns everyone into compliant sheeples. “I have a mental illness and I’ll need treatment for the rest of my life and I have to obey my therapist.”

See you later. Have a nice evening.

What “groups” in mental hospitals are really like

I was frequently asked about the “groups” in mental hospitals. Most people who have never been inside a mental hospital assume the “groups” are state of the art. Sadly, this is not true. Most “groups” are hardly that. Many are run by completely untrained “staff” who have no competency to lead groups. They have indeed had training similar to what prison guards get trained in. They get trained in how to pin down a patient. They get trained in where the panic button is. They know how to call Security. They know how to get in touch with the supervisor. They know who the boss is, and how to identify the target patient they assume will make trouble, the ones they are planning to Medicate out of his/her mind later on.

Most staff have no idea how to run a group, so they have handy “cheat sheets” they use. These are handed to the rookie staff, printouts telling them what to do. “Have the group sit in a circle. Each group member says his name. Ask each group member what his favorite movie is.

I’m serious! These groups are very juvenile, especially if you are NOT a juvenile. They are as insulting as having seniors play children’s games and talking baby talk to them assuming they like that.

Many times, patients are spoken to slowly, as if we can’t understand otherwise. Or talked over. Or just ignored. Patients who are assumed to be psychotic are left to their own devices or flat out disregarded. I’ve heard staff say, “His feelings don’t matter,” or “He doesn’t really have feelings like other people,” or, “We won’t ask,” or, “He doesn’t care.”

Patients who are overdrugged often cannot verbalize their needs. Sometimes their basic human needs are disregarded, in and out of group, even bathroom needs. I have seen patients with their heads down, drooling, almost passed out in the back of group. I was concerned about one guy. i was pretty sure he was in medical shock and something was going to have to be done. He was drooling bad and his skin was not the right color. Finally a nurse came up to him. He couldn’t lift his head up. She couldn’t get an answer from him. All during group he’d been like that, passively sitting there.

So the group leader couldn’t seem to get him to answer, “Can you tell us one coping skill you used today?”

I remember my well-meaning friends used to call me and ask about “groups.” What could I tell them? They assumed well-educated, sensitive “therapists” ran these groups, and that we patients actually benefited, that we actually learned and grew and “got better.”

College is supposed to be like that. It was, for me. I learned from every class and my instructors were well-qualified. I remember leaving each and every class and feeling like I’d gotten something out of the class. I also felt that learning was MY choice. I loved participating in each class, and I almost always was well-prepared. I found it tough when I wasn’t! That plus the instructors got frustrated trying to teach when the majority were unprepared. However, the reading we had was usually interesting, because I chose classes that were varied and stimulating.

That’s not how it is in a mental hospital. You don’t choose to be there. Many have chosen or ask to get help, but they somehow miss the boat by making us play children’s games. I don’t see how Bingo really helped us, or any of those kiddie games, or playing with stuffed animals, or trying to role-play over and over and over.

I didn’t mind art therapy, if it was done in an adult manner. Art classes can be done for adults or they can be taught like kiddie classes. Sadly, some of these group leaders acted like kindergarten. They wrecked art therapy, which really can be done respectfully if you realize that art is not really playing with toys to a professional artist.

Watch a real professional artist do art, or a photographer or sculptor, and you realize that this is not kiddie play. I have seen amazing talent out there outside of the mental world. I am saddened that these group leaders wrecked art for so many patients. However, I am glad that many were able to retain the dignity in art that it truly is, and maintain it as an expression of beauty and passion.

Are any of you ex-patients so sickened by the sight of miniature golf that you’ll never ever play it again? Yes, they had us play that and worse in the nuthouses, too.  What next? Sandboxes? Maybe teddy bears or they’ll just stick pacifiers in our mouths to silence us.

 

What I do now (that works….)

People ask occasionally how I beat my eating disorder. I do NOT recommend any one-size-fits-all diet to anyone, ever. I DO recommend listening to you body. In fact, I recommend your body as #1 therapist in your life. I recommend that if your therapist recommends one thing, and your body screams NO WAY! you disobey your therapist! Be proudly noncompliant. Honor your body. Actually, that I know of, is there any religion out there that says, “Doctor knows best”? No! But many religions state that we humans were given bodies ENTIRELY FREE at birth and that we need to respect that. Respect what you have, honor it, and it will, in turn, respect you back.

I was told by my therapist to not run. However, I know now that this was nothing but a power move on her part. Maria Mellano was only playing out her own feelings about her own mother. She was taking out her anger toward her mother on her clients, and I wasn’t the only client she abused. I was 52 years old when I started with her, around Thanksgiving 2010. I stayed with her until March 2012 when I finally gave her the boot.

She was manipulative and controlling. Right away she forbade me to go running. She told me “All anorexics over-exercise.” I don’t. I was so mad. She tried to stop me from walking the dog even! This turned into a power struggle.

I started to over-exercise, but this was only in response to Maria’s abuse. There was only one time I did it before, in response to extreme weight gain from Seroquel. This time, as last time, it only lasted a few weeks. Both times resulted in a disabling knee injury.

The first time, in 2005, I weighed about 200 pounds and I spend three months off my feet and lived as a shut-in, unable to go anywhere. I had no transportation, no “nice person” who helped me out. I couldn’t walk the dog, couldn’t get to the bus stop, couldn’t do anything for myself, and had no “nice” pals around. People looked at me like “Oh she did it to herself because she’s fat.” I saw a doc but he didn’t care. My brother, who lived an hour away, refused to help out.Did I even matter anymore? I wondered if I would ever walk again.

In 2011, I was much thinner, weighing less than I should, and I ended up with a similar knee injury. This time, I saw a different ortho. I could walk some on crutches and got around fairly well. But this ortho told me I’d never walk nor run again.

I hope you’re laughing very hard right now.

“Don’t eat this.” “Follow this meal plan.” “Do these coping skills.” “Do deep breathing.” “I know what you need.”

Why do people follow other people’s advice, instead of listening to their bodies? Ditch the “advice.” Please! Stop going to these folks that claim to know better, especially the ones that charge money, or claim to know better than you do, and start doing what your inner wisdom tells you.

This is what I am finding out. I learned that I am doing much better without weekly or bi-weekly “appointments.” I used to think I needed that “therapy.” Now, I realize that therapy was holding me back. I realize that the only thing therapy did was to put money into the therapist’s pocket. Therapy did  nothing to help my eating disorder. Most had no clue how to treat ED. Even those with “training” had no clue.

Sometimes it was far worse to see someone who claimed they knew about ED and didn’t. I got put into a mold I didn’t fit into. I would be accused of vomiting. I never vomited. These therapists never took into account the seriousness of binge eating. Very few ever asked the size of the binges, nor realized there’s a difference in sizes of binges. They didn’t realize that even though for much of my life I was stick thin, I lived in terror of bingeing.

They assumed I lived a much different life than I really lived. I never even looked at a fashion magazine. Ever. I don’t own a mirror. I don’t gaze all day long in one, never did! I don’t spend all day long brushing my hair. In fact, I re-do my braid once, period. I don’t fuss all day with makeup. I don’t wear it. I don’t give a poop about “fashion.” Never did. I don’t know the names of the fashion companies. To assume I do is following ED stereotypes they read in their textbooks.

Therefore, their textbook therapy never worked, since it is based on a host of incorrect assumptions.

These days I exercise a lot. I don’t overexercise and I don’t even think about that. I don’t worry about it since I was never an overexerciser to begin with. I know I should not overdo it or I will get injured. Of course, if I stay away from abusive therapists, I won’t have to worry ever again.

If I sit crouched over something straining my eyes to see something I can’t really see, then my lower back feels strained. This is my body reminding me to get up and walk Puzzle. Thankfully, Puzzle is a smart doggie and she will remind me well before my back starts to get stiff. She nags me and gets terribly obnoxious, demanding that I get up and take her out. If Rule #1 is Listen to your body, then Rule #2 is probably Listen to your dog. Your therapist should be on the very very bottom of that list, and I hope your dog drowns out all the abusive “advice” she has ever given you.

Rule #3: Laugh. When all else fails. This is a great default mode when you really screw up. The other day I was speaking in front of an audience. I knew almost all of the people there by name. Only there was one embarrassing problem! I was in the front, facing the group. I wasn’t that far away from my audience, probably the distance of two or three yardsticks (meters). If I had the ability to see, I would have been able to see the faces of my audience. However, I only saw blurs. Oops!

I was unable to recognize any of the people that I knew. When it came time to call on certain people, I looked around the room and alas, couldn’t find those individuals I was seeking. So what did I do?

Instead of getting all awkward and nervous, I turned it into a joke. It was fun poking fun at the situation. My audience laughed, too. It was equally funny when I had to remove my glasses and screw up my eyes to try to read the paper I had in front of me, and that, too, was loads of fun instead of awkward and embarrassing.

if I were in therapy right now, the therapist would demand I do “deep breathing.” The therapist would talk about “coping skills” and all that crap I never ever needed. I’ve thrown it all out the window.

Oddly, I have also saved a bundle of money in the process. While therapy was “covered,” the life they demanded I lead was not very inexpensive. i’m finding I am living a better quality of life more cheaply without their “recommendations.”

I can only conclude that I had a decent brain after all. I had great intuition. I had a fabulous way of viewing the world. I was plenty unique and didn’t need to change. I was creative enough, talented enough, and certainly already good enough.

I look back on my therapists and laugh. Could they orchestrate a piece for piano, converting it to a piece for woodwinds or brass? Did they know the difference between the well-tempered scale and modal scales? Could they sing the various intervals, or recognize them if they heard them? Could they pinpoint the music of various composers by ear?

No. They didn’t possess these skills. They didn’t know what a musical cadence was. They were clueless as to what a motif was. They couldn’t tell me about the creative process that goes into composing music.

I was always a cut above them. Still am.

I hope this helps anyone out there. We do not need them.

My next two book reviews will be….. Rabbi Harold Kushner, Dr. Kelly Brogan

I am planning to review When Bad Things Happen to Good People. I will be discussing the usefulness of this book to psych survivors and their families.

After that, I will be reading Dr. Kelly Brogan’s A Mind of Your Own. I own this book already. I am on Dr. Brogan’s mailing list. I have been increasingly concerned about the sales pitches in her mailings. I am also concerned about the non-science in her blog posts. I am noticing the number of “testimonials,” all positive. Too many positive testimonials, to me, only looks like a scam. Another concern is her insistence on a one-size-fits-all approach. We don’t all have irritable bowel syndrome. We aren’t all depressed. Since when do we all demand that our “hormones” get fixed?   Geez…..None of that applies to me, by the way, I’m happy to say. I see  no reason to follow her extremely restrictive diet to get rid of IBS I don’t have!  Also, I note that Brogan is profiting off of the products she is promoting. I am quite concerned, also, that Dr. Breggin is promoting Dr. Brogan. I believe that Peter Breggin, MD, most likely is unaware of all these pushy sales tactics.

However, my plan is to examine the book, as a writer, as an ex-patient, and as a reader. I’ll give it a fair read. I know that Bonnie Burstow said we in the movement shouldn’t be badmouthing each other (shooting each other in the foot, that is).  But since when should I listen to someone just because they have PhD after their name?  Since when does that make the person THE authority? I feel that having someone like Brogan as “shining example” might be harming the Movement, anyway. I am not so keen on obvious pushy capitalism.

This is my opinion and I guess I’m entitled to an opinion, that’s all. We may have one responsibility, not to badmouth, on the other hand, I am an independent entity and I think independently. I think each of us has the duty to act responsibly. Brogan isn’t, if she’s doing pushy sales tactics, that is, pushing a one-size-fits-all restrictive diet on people as The Cure. That plus she only tell us the success stories. And only that. I have yet to see exactly what percent of those that sign up actually complete the program and “graduate” to glowing happiness. And I want to know about attrition, too. What about falling off the bandwagon?

I’ve added names to my title so maybe my entry will be found and someone might come comment. Maybe Brogan’s sales promotion person will find my entry. She even mentioned this person’s name in one of her blog posts, ha ha…..You know, cross-promotion…..

Note to seniors: It’s not YOUR Medicare benefits.

I have to laugh at the mailings sent to seniors. YOUR MEDICARE BENEFITS. But who benefits? We give you this. You are entitled to…But really?

Here’s your benefit! I have to laugh. This means Senior Slavery. Senior obligation.

Who gets paid. The doc. Who becomes a slave? Seniors. Who now is obligated and hooked on drugs. Seniors. Who is now becoming sicker and sicker? Seniors. Who profits? Big Pharma and your doctor. So I don’t see this as YOUR BENEFITS. Not at all. The drug companies and your doctor and the institutions are racking up a fortune on the elderly. Happy addiction, coming up.

Of course, you don’t have to fall for all that. Just say no, Grandma. Bake apple pie like the ole stereotype says. Or, of course, a brownie or two, and send some brownie points my way for this blog entry.

Friendship conflict: What should I do?

Dear blog readers: I want to know your opinion. I was in a conversation last night that by all means did not turn into an argument at all, but I noted that during our discussion my friend, who is really a very good friend, and has always been highly supportive, seemed to repeatedly defend the actions of another person in a situation where my friend was not present.

There was a third person present during this conversation that altered the dynamics as well.

The three of us were inside a vehicle. The third person was driving. As you know, I am clumsy inside cars and usually can’t buckle the seatbelt nor find it so easily. So I was bumbling around with the seatbelt, trying to figure all that out while we were conversing. My friend was in the front passenger seat. Somehow, the topic of a particular past event came up.

I stated that in the past, I had walked into a convenience store, asked if they took food stamps, then, I was shamed by the cashier. Then, I finally got up the guts to write to an official about the experience since I have seen that happen at cash registers before. Because of the particulars of the situation (which were too technical to re-state in the converstion, since neither of these friends really knew the technicalities of food stamps, ha ha) I wasn’t able to explain the whole deal about how a food stamps card works and why the cashier should not have done what she did. I was also unable to fully explain that five minutes or less of training would have prevented the whole thing.

When 7-Eleven made the decision to aceept food stamps, they needed to tell their employees to not shame those that use the food stamps card. Do not judge people, just let them use the card. However, that’s not what happened. I was shamed, treated abruptly, told my card “didn’t work,” told I was “out of funds,” which was not true, and other incredibly rude remarks. I was told my card would be “locked” and I needed to “call them” right away, and the two cashiers used belittling language toward me. At the time I was extremely hungry.

It’s really hard to explain just how hungry a person gets after surviving extreme starvation from an eating disorder. In my little conversation with my friends, I didn’t bring up the fact that not long ago, I nearly starved to death. The body remembers.

In my written complaint about customer profiling and shaming over using a food stamps card, I did not say I survived anorexia, but I did say I had a medical condition and was extremely hungry at the time. I did describe how after I left the store I stood on the street corner and devoured the banana I had purchased with my credit card after my food stamps card had been refused.

I don’t understand why my friend took the cashier’s side repeatedly. After I said, “power of the pen,” she still wasn’t supportive the way I would expect a friend to be. I don’t get why she excused the cashier’s behavior. Except one thing: I wonder if she felt uncomfortable with my overall tone. I wonder if she was “excusing” my activist tone in the presence of the third friend, as a way of toning down the conversation. I wonder if she wanted me to look softer, or not so uppity.

From the way the third friend was acting, she was fully supportive of my writing to the authorities about profiling anyway. She said something about “corporate welfare” and I suspect she didn’t mind my activism at all.

I didn’t want the cashier to lose her job. What I asked in my communication was that the management of venues that take food stamps should educate their employees to treat all customers in a nondiscriminatory way. This is the law, by the way, and to teach employees this takes about five minutes. This is a management issue, not one with that particular employee. And it happened quite a while back.

You know you’re losing your eyesight when…..

You go to work, or pretty much anywhere, and you can’t tell one person from the other, leading to embarrassing situations…..

When you visit a foreign country, the first thing you learn in the new language is, “Can you tell me what that street sign says? I can’t read it.”

When waiting for the bus, you accidentally flag down a car instead.

You’ve learned to laugh at your foolishness.

After you bump into someone, they yell at you, saying, “What’s wrong with you!” and you’re too tired of explaining.

You now own five umbrellas because you replaced the one you had each time you couldn’t find it.

You have to feel around for your eyeglasses when you wake up in the middle of the night.

The first thing you learn about every word processor is how to enlarge the text. Second, how to reverse the colors. Don’t worry, what’s coming around the corner will be a screen reader.

You’ve memorized your way around the house. Why bother turning on the lights?

When you drop something, instead of retrieving it (as reasonably sighted people do), you say, “Oh well, it’s gone….” because you know you’ll never ever find it.

You’re making a habit of purchasing ridiculous colors you can’t stand, like bright pink and fluorescent orange, just because you know you won’t lose stuff that bright.

You’ve invested a fortune in brightly colored duct tape and Sharpies.

You curse every tech company that made a black cellular telephone, or black anything.

You stop using a cell phone altogether. Goodbye, dropped calls.

Dialing the phone has become a major challenge. People assume you’re in early Alzheimer’s if ever dare say you have a faulty handset, so don’t even try that route.

You’re in a store and ask a salesperson a question. The salesperson says, “Oh yes, follow me.” Instantly, she leaves your line of sight, now more than five feet away from you, and as far as you’re concerned, has completely disappeared into nothingness. So you stand there, totally bewildered. “Where did that woman go off to, and how do I fake my way out of this situation without looking like a fool?”

You don’t own a mirror anymore. What’s the point? No matter how close, you still can’t see.

Spelling while typing is getting so tough that you rely on spell check and that red line under the words. IF you can still see it.

The day an angel taps me on my shoulder and says, “Hey, you spelled that wrong!” maybe I’ll be so far gone that i’ll be time to cash it all in and say goodbye anyway. As I figure, when that day comes, I won’t even see the angel, so I won’t have to go at all!

Ignorance is bliss, right?

 

 

The consequences of putting all your eggs in one basket

I have heard there are exceptions to this rule, that for some people, that great partner works out, that fabulous lifetime spouse, or for some, a wonderful organization comes along that turns out to be a that match made in heaven. However, as a general rule it’s a good idea to have a Plan B to fall back on, just in case.

Even when two people work out as lifetime partners, they have other interests such as their workplaces where they may work separately, or possibly have their friends and correspondences they associate with apart from the other. Sometimes the families of these partners may not be well-acquainted with each other nor live in the same locale.

Sometimes we look to people or organizations as “the answer.” I would highly recommend against this type of hopefulness. I used to get that way simply because I was in a situation of dire straits and had nowhere to turn. I was disappointed over and over. No one person nor organization can fit this role, whether they promise to do so (which is grandiose, when you think of it) and a totally empty promise.

“We won’t let you down like the others.” I used to hear this occasionally, these empty promises. I was so desperate that as soon as I heard it, I’d latch onto it and immediately believe it, simply because I loved the verification that the others had truly let me down (or worse). Secondly, I had hoped to be treated decently. Sadly, I was invariably let down.

Sometimes, I was so desperate for someone to be nice to me that wishful thinking caused me to decide a person or organization was “nicer” than it really was. So I formed ideas in my mind based on what I hoped I would get, or what I wanted to see, rather than what I truly witnessed or was getting.

I have done this many times, built organizations and people up to be The One that was going to help get me out of the muck. But the truth is that you cannot count on just one, because invariably you will be disappointed, even if they promise and tell you over and over just how great they are.

When they disappoint you they’ll tell you over and over how they hadn’t promised anything, and how delusional or diseased you are. Or they’ll blame YOU and tell you it was all your fault that it didn’t work out.

Like here’s an example. Church. I went to church and did exactly the wrong thing. Because I had just been abused in a hospital I put all my eggs in one basket hoping that the church people would believe me and support me.

First of all, they never heard my story. As soon as I got there, as soon as I started going to church not one person heard what had happened at Mass General. The funny thing is that it was an MGH clergy who had recommended to me that I join a church or synagogue. There I was, but I couldn’t get anyone to hear me out. “Hey, I was deprived of water in a hospital and that was a human rights abuse!” but not one person would listen. They only saw a crazy person, and assumed the story was all a delusion.

Fast forward a few years: The minister and his family were mountain-climbing on Mount Katahdin in Maine one summer (I believe 2016) and apparently, they carry enough water on the trip. So the minister himself became dangerously dehydrated. They were on a mountain and this was dire. Some nice people came along with water. This incident has become the topic of many sermons since.

Dehydration causes a PTSD-like reaction, which accounts for why the minister is now kinda obsessed with this incident. If you go look at his sermons (go to the church’s website at fp watertown dot org and click on “sermons”) you’ll see that this incident on the mountain when he was dehydrated is repeated over and over. This is due to his own traumatic reaction to dehydration, which is a normal human response. That’s what I was going through when I joined the church, but since I was considered a nutcase, I was ignored. No one would listen.

I was a fool to put all my eggs in one basket. Church disappointed me terribly. I was treated horribly at church and I am hesitant to join any religious organization again. I have nothing against religion but it’s the social aspect that scares me, since I don’t want to go through rejection and belittling again.

The minister actually put into one of his sermons that “a former member” blames the church because “she didn’t find friends” at the church. The way it is worded totally blames me, implying that I should not have blamed the church at all.

The minister left out the little fact that HE SENT THE COPS TO MY HOME ON JANUARY 10, 2014, ACCUSING ME OF PLOTTING TO KILL HIM! I have reported this to the state legislature as an act of swatting, possible paranoia on the part of the minister or the church’s administration, and unnecessary and wasteful use of police! The church’s elite saw me as dangerous and violent. So how on earth was I supposed to make friends there? And why is this paranoid minister blaming ME?

Not only was I ignored at church, but I was treated as lesser. I was not given the usual duties that most regular members have, I suppose because they were afraid of me. I was refused any time I offered to help out. The only time I was allowed to be giving was when I was asked for MONEY. The only time they ever actively contacted me was to ask for money. I was so shocked by this, because many times I offered in any way I could to be giving in other ways, but I was put off, told, “We don’t need that right now.” It was their way of saying “We don’t want nutcases around here.”

This church professes to treat all humans as worthy. What a joke.

One person mentioned that maybe I would want to join the choir, but I was honestly afraid of social rejection if I chose to join. I was scared of being left out in some way, their usual way they deliberately didn’t include me. I also observed other members being belittled during various church meetings and I was disgusted by this.

For instance, a person was belittled just for asking a question, told she was “wasting people’s time.” I was so shocked and disgusted that I didn’t know what to do. Should I approach her and say something about how I feel? Should I go above everyone’s heads and go to the central office in Boston? Should I try to say something to those who did it? Anytime I tried to challenge the way things were done I was knocked down.

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Be a member of several organizations. That way, when one falls through, or disappoints you, or breaks up, or runs out of money, or ends up not working out, you’ve got the other to fall back on. Or have some hobby you enjoy so when that great club fails, you can tell yourself at least you have something else.