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Silver and Turquoise from Ragdoll Redeemed

May 21, 2013 by Leave a Comment

UFOMY MOTHER BEGAN dating Doc right after she separated from Howard, the dad with the choking hands. Doc had once been a practicing medical doctor in the San Diego area, but he hadn’t worked since he surrendered to his daily drinking. Now living a subsistence life at the bottom of the economic scale, his home was an old, small trailer in a broken-down mobile home park.

Doc was an avid rock hound who loved going out in the desert areas in eastern Southern California. Next to smoking and drinking, he enjoyed collecting unusual rocks, mineral specimens, and, when lucky, gemstones.

This is a preview of Silver and Turquoise from Ragdoll Redeemed. Read the full post (425 words, 2 images, estimated 1:42 mins reading time)
Filed Under: Addiction, Blog Home, Ragdoll Redeemed: Growing up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe, Sexual abuse Tagged With: , , , , , ,
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Ragdoll Redeemed, Toxic Parenting

May 16, 2013 by Leave a Comment

bigstock-Surreal-Cubist-Eyes-And-Faces-7736887_resizeOops! This week I posted an excerpt from my book, Ragdoll Redeemed out of sequence. When I realized my mistake, I immediately posted the two previous scheduled excerpts as a corrective measure. Hence, three posts this week.

As the following information relates to the title of my blog site, The Faces We Live (The PARTS of us or aspects of ourselves that often run our lives without our explicit permission) toxic parenting helps us to understand how we have become who we are today. Nevertheless, as I have stated elsewhere;

This is a preview of Ragdoll Redeemed, Toxic Parenting. Read the full post (428 words, 2 images, estimated 1:43 mins reading time)
Filed Under: Blog Home, Mind as Multidimensional & Multifaceted, Ragdoll Redeemed: Growing up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe, The Faces We live Tagged With: , ,
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Ragdoll Redeemed: Reverence and Milk Bottles

May 14, 2013 by Leave a Comment

il_170x135.360144279_lsi2Now five, almost six years old, with long, blond, matted hair, feet without shoes, sporting tar and dirt like a widely dispersed birthmark, I recessed further into being a shy, anxious child. My anxiety was elevated by the loudness that reverberated so often within the walls of my dingy home.

Veronica and Howard’s hate-filled relationship tormented all of us for two more years. I tried to close my ears to the words that would never be uttered  in churches or in other children’s homes.

This is a preview of Ragdoll Redeemed: Reverence and Milk Bottles. Read the full post (446 words, 2 images, estimated 1:47 mins reading time)
Filed Under: Family Violence, Ragdoll Redeemed: Growing up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,
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House with No Paint

May 14, 2013 by Leave a Comment

Brother in backyard (3)

One gloomy northern California day, after six heavenly months of peace, my foster parents packed me in their car and headed back to the house with no paint. Nothing my kind new dad or my wonderful new mom said to me could cheer me during the long drive south. Our mutual sadness enveloped the inside of the car like a black fog, becoming denser with each passing mile. Soon no one was even attempting to speak cheery, meaningless words of comfort.

This is a preview of House with No Paint. Read the full post (257 words, 2 images, estimated 1:02 mins reading time)
Filed Under: Family Violence, Ragdoll Redeemed: Growing up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe Tagged With:
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House with No Paint

May 14, 2013 by Leave a Comment

 dawn with little red hat (465x640)

 

Even my sweet eight-year-old brother couldn’t talk me out of the corner where I scrunched up against the wall, hiding, my eyes tightly shut. Holding out his hand to me, Ronnie said, “Come  on, Dawnie, these are nice people and they are going to take you for a ride in their big car.”

I shook my head  from side to side, too scared to talk, and  my brother begged me, “Please Dawnie, just come say hi to them. They have a baby doll for you in the car and some candy. I saw it. Everything will be okay. Just come out, pleeeease.”

This is a preview of House with No Paint. Read the full post (619 words, 1 image, estimated 2:29 mins reading time)
Filed Under: Family Violence, Ragdoll Redeemed: Growing up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe Tagged With: ,
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Authoritarian Parenting Style

May 9, 2013 by Leave a Comment

bigstock-Sad-Abused-Boy-with-Anger-Shad-37972027

As previously stated, I’m posting weekly excerpts from my book, Ragdoll Redeemed: Growing up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe, because I wanted a break from the pressure of writing a blog topic. At the same time, I’m not quite ready to completely shut down my blog site.  Given this self-imposed dilemma, I’m endeavoring to post educational information that somewhat coincides with my book excerpts.

I can totally relate to the symptoms stated in the following article on Authoritarian Parenting Style.

 

The “Authoritarian Parenting Style” is an extremely strict form of parenting that expects a child to adhere to rules and regulations set out by the parents with little or no input or communication from the child.

Developmental psychologist Diana Baumrind in her studies based on the dimensions of “Parental Responsiveness” and “Parental Demandingness” conclude that: The authoritarian parenting style is a harsh, rigid emotional climate that is low in parental responsiveness (the nurturing aspect of the child) and high in parental demandingness (control over the child).

This is a preview of Authoritarian Parenting Style. Read the full post (437 words, 1 image, estimated 1:45 mins reading time)
Filed Under: Blog Home, Family Violence Tagged With: , , ,
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Ragdoll Redeemed: Reverence and Milk Bottles

May 7, 2013 by 1 Comment

Christmas w HowardHOWARD, MY ADOPTIVE father, frequently locked me in my brothers’ small bedroom with its colorful  floors. One small window became my salvation: I would imagine myself flying out of it to perch upon the fluttering leaves I could see from my assigned square on the floor. It was hard for my four-year-old arms and legs to remain still for so many hours. When he was angry, Howard would frequently grab me by one arm and yank me high up in the air. On one occasion he dislocated my arm from my shoulder before slamming me down on the orange and blue linoleum. For years I had recurring nightmares in which I was frantically running from pieces of orange and blue squares.

This is a preview of Ragdoll Redeemed: Reverence and Milk Bottles. Read the full post (647 words, 2 images, estimated 2:35 mins reading time)
Filed Under: Family Violence, PTSD, The Faces We live Tagged With: , ,
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Ragdoll Redeemed: House with no Paint

April 30, 2013 by Leave a Comment

image_12 (4)One day while napping I overheard  ten-year-old Ronnie speaking in soothing tones to our four-year-old brother Russell. As often happens with the oldest child, Ronnie had become responsible for protecting Russell and me from the screaming  matches. The fights between Howard and my mother were escalating in tone and regularity.

I was pretty sure the reason that I was not welcomed into any of the neighbor’s homes was because the whole neighborhood could hear the verbal battles in our house. That and the sap on my feet, the lice in my hair, and the dirt from the dumpsters. In spite of any prayers and wishes from Grandmother and me, the hollering became more and more intense.

This is a preview of Ragdoll Redeemed: House with no Paint. Read the full post (732 words, 3 images, estimated 2:56 mins reading time)
Filed Under: Family Violence, Ragdoll Redeemed: Growing up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe, The Faces We live Tagged With: , ,
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Ragdoll Redeemed: House with No Paint

April 23, 2013 by Leave a Comment

holy water 5This gypsy lifestyle of roaming the woods and the neighborhood was a daily ritual from the time I was barely four years old. From sun-up until well past dark, I was on my own in my wanderings. Sometimes I would seek shelter in the hot afternoons by sneaking into an abandoned barrack. Many had not yet been converted to homes, and it was easy to break into broken doors or holes punched in the walls by vandals. But most of my comfort came from the exhilaration I felt when supported  in the loving arms of my trees. No one, except my brother, ever questioned my whereabouts or went looking for me. Usually he didn’t come, either, because we both knew the farther I stayed away from the house with no paint, the safer I would be.

This is a preview of Ragdoll Redeemed: House with No Paint. Read the full post (434 words, 3 images, estimated 1:44 mins reading time)
Filed Under: Family Violence, Ragdoll Redeemed: Growing up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe Tagged With: , , , ,
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Attachment: If Not to a Person Then What Substitute?

April 18, 2013 by Leave a Comment

bigstock-Surreal-Cubist-Eyes-And-Faces-7736887_resize

In posting this week’s excerpts from my book Ragdoll Redeemed: Growing up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe, I am reminded of the developmental challenges of children who feel safer attaching to things in nature, animals and soft toys like tattered ragdolls. I was luckier than some children in that I had the consistent connection of my beloved grandmother and the watchful eye of my older brother even though both were either too scared or too young to protect me from abuse.

This is a preview of Attachment: If Not to a Person Then What Substitute?. Read the full post (292 words, 2 images, estimated 1:10 mins reading time)
Filed Under: Mind as Multidimensional & Multifaceted, Ragdoll Redeemed: Growing up in the Shadow of Marilyn Monroe, The Faces We live Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
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