Tag Archive: Anger


nutsfortreasure:

I only give JT ones made for us :)

Originally posted on fox4kc.com:

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(CNN) — The U.S. Food and Drug Administration has a message for veterinarians and pet owners: If dogs or cats get sick after eating jerky pet treats, let us know.

The agency says it’s received reports of more than 3,600 dogs and 10 cats that got sick after eating jerky pet treats since 2007. Of those cases, the FDA says, more than 580 pets have died.

“This is one of the most elusive and mysterious outbreaks we’ve encountered,” said Bernadette Dunham, director of the FDA’s Center for Veterinary Medicine.

“Most of the jerky treats implicated have been made in China,” the FDA said. Investigators have tested more than 1,200 samples but haven’t uncovered what could be causing the illnesses.

On Tuesday, the FDA issued a letter to veterinarians asking for help tracking the illnesses. The agency also released a fact sheet for pet owners warning of possible…

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I was still injured but I needed a job.

I used to drive a “big rig”  but then I was hit,  by that bus.

I went through the savings which were sadly,  as in most case, s never enough.

I saw an Ad in a local paper for a Special Needs School Bus Driver,  surely I could drive a small van.

I applied for the position and they could clearly see my wounds but it was the ones inside that hurt the worst.
Due to my physical injuries I was given the troubled youths to transport to schools where they did not want to attend.

Many never even bothered  to get up and shower and dress for the day,  never mind step into the van.  Very sad.

One by one as they entered my school bus I introduced myself,  the one with the huge blue knee brace on.

I asked them to buckle up and not to swear (being a trucker at this point didn’t matter) I turned on music of their liking

just not gangster rap!

I knew they all had stories about how they ended up on a bus such as this.  I did too.

I showed them respect and demanded the same right back.  Friends were  worried about me alone with them.

So many scary stories you read about children such as this.  Remember they were the worst of the worst.

No one else at the bus company would drive them willingly.  So they gave them to the New Girl!

I had a run in the morning where they were still half asleep then again in the afternoon after no nicotine.

Yes some were angry.  Many had nice parents that just could not take it anymore and turned them over to the state.

Some lived with Grandparents God Bless them.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into years, two of them, I healed. So did they.  We stopped listening

to music unless it was them singing to my great-niece in an infant seat while one played the guitar.  They had

me to smile and make them feel welcomed each morning and I was their ride away from that school each day.

I had a solid group of eight who had been tossed aside.

Told they would never amount to anything.  Have you been mad enough to say that to your child?

They were so talented in so many ways, I was so proud they stuck it out and rode both ways with me.  I will always

remember these young people who not only graduated but in the end helped me to heal all the hurt inside.

They all know that they were MY SILVER LINING.

So very sad.

Such a beautiful day we had,  till this afternoon.

Sun was shining,  people from all over the world were running the Boston Marathon and the 26 miles of roadways were lined with happy cheering people.

Two bombs went off

A little eight year old has passed away before their life even began.

Tears shed by the world at large or those with hearts anyway.

The last mile was in memory for the children who were murdered in CT.

The poor first responders that were at the finish line  to help with fatigue after they had topped Heartbreak Hill and to give them a place to rest and fluids could not be ready for what took place here today.

What is wrong with the world today?

There are now armored personal carriers at our local hospital where I take Mom every 3 months for a check up I did a post on that pretty garden down the street from the same hospital  this is just simply another sad day in the history of the world and today was Boston’s turn.

Doctors are pulling ball bearings from people’s bodies.

A dirty bomb is used daily in many countries but this is Boston and it was gorgeous and just a perfect day for the runners.

In tears so sad saying prayers and sending out mad love to all those heroes that stopped the bleeding for so many to get them to help.

For those of you who live in countries where this has become so normal I am so sorry it is not what living is supposed to be like.

Please hug and love each other.

Lots of Meta going out to all

 

 

Another Soul Lost

This is what I was saying in my post Why?
It is happening more than most of you will ever know
I drove a school bus and you would be shocked.
So when your child or your siblings child acts like this speak up offer support and help them GET HELP or this will never end and will surly get so much worse.

:(

Eunice

Written by Liza Long, republished from The Blue Review

Friday’s horrific national tragedy — the murder of 20 children and six adults at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut — has ignited a new discussion on violence in America. In kitchens and coffee shops across the country, we tearfully debate the many faces of violence in America: gun culture, media violence, lack of mental health services, overt and covert wars abroad, religion, politics and the way we raise our children. Liza Long, a writer based in Boise, says it’s easy to talk about guns. But it’s time to talk about mental illness.

Three days before 20 year-old Adam Lanza killed his mother, then opened fire on a classroom full of Connecticut kindergartners, my 13-year old son Michael (name changed) missed his bus because he was wearing the wrong color pants.

“I can wear these pants,” he said, his tone increasingly belligerent, the black-hole pupils of his eyes swallowing the blue irises.

“They are navy blue,” I told him. “Your school’s dress code says black or khaki pants only.”

“They told me I could wear these,” he insisted. “You’re a stupid bitch. I can wear whatever pants I want to. This is America. I have rights!”

“You can’t wear whatever pants you want to,” I said, my tone affable, reasonable. “And you definitely cannot call me a stupid bitch. You’re grounded from electronics for the rest of the day. Now get in the car, and I will take you to school.”

I live with a son who is mentally ill. I love my son. But he terrifies me.

A few weeks ago, Michael pulled a knife and threatened to kill me and then himself after I asked him to return his overdue library books. His 7 and 9-year-old siblings knew the safety plan — they ran to the car and locked the doors before I even asked them to. I managed to get the knife from Michael, then methodically collected all the sharp objects in the house into a single Tupperware container that now travels with me. Through it all, he continued to scream insults at me and threaten to kill or hurt me.

That conflict ended with three burly police officers and a paramedic wrestling my son onto a gurney for an expensive ambulance ride to the local emergency room. The mental hospital didn’t have any beds that day, and Michael calmed down nicely in the ER, so they sent us home with a prescription for Zyprexa and a follow-up visit with a local pediatric psychiatrist.

We still don’t know what’s wrong with Michael. Autism spectrum, ADHD,  Oppositional Defiant or Intermittent Explosive Disorder have all been tossed around at various meetings with probation officers and social workers and counselors and teachers and school administrators. He’s been on a slew of antipsychotic and mood altering pharmaceuticals, a Russian novel of behavioral plans. Nothing seems to work.

At the start of seventh grade, Michael was accepted to an accelerated program for highly gifted math and science students. His IQ is off the charts. When he’s in a good mood, he will gladly bend your ear on subjects ranging from Greek mythology to the differences between Einsteinian and Newtonian physics to Doctor Who. He’s in a good mood most of the time. But when he’s not, watch out. And it’s impossible to predict what will set him off.

Several weeks into his new junior high school, Michael began exhibiting increasingly odd and threatening behaviors at school. We decided to transfer him to the district’s most restrictive behavioral program, a contained school environment where children who can’t function in normal classrooms can access their right to free public babysitting from 7:30-1:50 Monday through Friday until they turn 18.

The morning of the pants incident, Michael continued to argue with me on the drive. He would occasionally apologize and seem remorseful. Right before we turned into his school parking lot, he said, “Look, Mom, I’m really sorry. Can I have video games back today?”

“No way,” I told him. “You cannot act the way you acted this morning and think you can get your electronic privileges back that quickly.”

His face turned cold, and his eyes were full of calculated rage. “Then I’m going to kill myself,” he said. “I’m going to jump out of this car right now and kill myself.”

That was it. After the knife incident, I told him that if he ever said those words again, I would take him straight to the mental hospital, no ifs, ands, or buts. I did not respond, except to pull the car into the opposite lane, turning left instead of right.
“Where are you taking me?” he said, suddenly worried. “Where are we going?”

“You know where we are going,” I replied.

“No! You can’t do that to me! You’re sending me to hell! You’re sending me straight to hell!”

I pulled up in front of the hospital, frantically waiving for one of the clinicians who happened to be standing outside. “Call the police,” I said. “Hurry.”

Michael was in a full-blown fit by then, screaming and hitting. I hugged him close so he couldn’t escape from the car. He bit me several times and repeatedly jabbed his elbows into my rib cage. I’m still stronger than he is, but I won’t be for much longer.
The police came quickly and carried my son screaming and kicking into the bowels of the hospital. I started to shake, and tears filled my eyes as I filled out the paperwork — “Were there any difficulties with… at what age did your child… were there any problems with.. has your child ever experienced.. does your child have…”

At least we have health insurance now. I recently accepted a position with a local college, giving up my freelance career because when you have a kid like this, you need benefits. You’ll do anything for benefits. No individual insurance plan will cover this kind of thing.

For days, my son insisted that I was lying — that I made the whole thing up so that I could get rid of him. The first day, when I called to check up on him, he said, “I hate you. And I’m going to get my revenge as soon as I get out of here.”

By day three, he was my calm, sweet boy again, all apologies and promises to get better. I’ve heard those promises for years. I don’t believe them anymore.

On the intake form, under the question, “What are your expectations for treatment?” I wrote, “I need help.”

And I do. This problem is too big for me to handle on my own. Sometimes there are no good options. So you just pray for grace and trust that in hindsight, it will all make sense.

I am sharing this story because I am Adam Lanza’s mother. I am Dylan Klebold’s and Eric Harris’s mother. I am Jason Holmes’s mother. I am Jared Loughner’s mother. I am Seung-Hui Cho’s mother. And these boys—and their mothers—need help. In the wake of another horrific national tragedy, it’s easy to talk about guns. But it’s time to talk about mental illness.

According to Mother Jones, since 1982, 61 mass murders involving firearms have occurred throughout the country. Of these, 43 of the killers were white males, and only one was a woman. Mother Jones focused on whether the killers obtained their guns legally (most did). But this highly visible sign of mental illness should lead us to consider how many people in the U.S. live in fear, like I do.

When I asked my son’s social worker about my options, he said that the only thing I could do was to get Michael charged with a crime. “If he’s back in the system, they’ll create a paper trail,” he said. “That’s the only way you’re ever going to get anything done. No one will pay attention to you unless you’ve got charges.”

I don’t believe my son belongs in jail. The chaotic environment exacerbates Michael’s sensitivity to sensory stimuli and doesn’t deal with the underlying pathology. But it seems like the United States is using prison as the solution of choice for mentally ill people. According to Human Rights Watch, the number of mentally ill inmates in U.S. prisons quadrupled from 2000 to 2006, and it continues to rise — in fact, the rate of inmate mental illness is five times greater (56 percent) than in the non-incarcerated population.

With state-run treatment centers and hospitals shuttered, prison is now the last resort for the mentally ill — Rikers Island, the LA County Jail and Cook County Jail in Illinois housed the nation’s largest treatment centers in 2011.

No one wants to send a 13-year old genius who loves Harry Potter and his snuggle animal collection to jail. But our society, with its stigma on mental illness and its broken healthcare system, does not provide us with other options. Then another tortured soul shoots up a fast food restaurant. A mall. A kindergarten classroom. And we wring our hands and say, “Something must be done.”

I agree that something must be done. It’s time for a meaningful, nation-wide conversation about mental health. That’s the only way our nation can ever truly heal.

God help me. God help Michael. God help us all.

(Originally published at The Anarchist Soccer Mom.)

 

WHY? Will Always Be The Question

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Today we will walk the shore before the snow moves in and covers this beautiful seaside landscape but with an ocean storm soon to brew,  we will be back next week with both metal detectors to see what has been thrown up upon the sand.

Our hearts are broken with all the senseless killing of adults and children here in New England as well as all over this world we live in. This family lived less than five miles from me until just over 10 years ago.  There had to be warning signals. I see them in children of friends and no one ever seems to say a word.  I am one who speaks up and then pulls away when the correct thing is not done,  though if something as horrible as a plot was known to me I would say something but would authorities interfere?

I own guns, I have been trained in the use of them and would never hesitate to protect someone from being killed, by someone who meant them harm.  I am not evil, my gun is not evil but sadly not all who are allowed to PLAY WITH GUNS, SHOULD.

So as you go about your daily lives judging or just keeping your mouths shut for fear of hurting someones feelings or even just minding your OWN BUSINESS,  know that by closing yours eyes to the obvious you are in fact perpetuating evil,  ever so small it may be at the time.  I see how children treat their parents I am sure you have too or how they treat animals and even strangers.  We all have seen this.  I decided a long time ago I would give up my life to protect someone from loosing theirs,  it is just who I am. I will not walk by as someone is mistreating another human or animal they are supposed to love and respect.  I will say something for the person or animal unable to SPEAK UP for themselves.

The poor families from this recent mass murder now face a lifetime without their babies and for those who just went to work at that school who lost their lives they leave families behind left to ask WHY?

Please say a prayer for them and your loved ones as you never know when true evil will walk in on them

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The Mountain Library

A reading list on mountaineering, mountain travel, culture and fiction, and observations on other creativity inspired by high places.

J. Gazo-McKim

I love the interplay of colour and texture

inesepogagallery

NATURE ART, DRAWING AND PAINTING

Colline's Blog

A potpourri of thoughts and experiences

Avian101

"My Backyard Visitors" - All about birds - The world is my backyard!

PI Photography and Fine Art

Find the extraordinary in the ordinary.

Mix 104.1

Boston's Best Variety

Optimystical

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I will meet you there. ~ Rumi

composerinthegarden

The intersection of music and the garden as parallel creative art forms

NH Fish and Game Radio Diner

Connecting you to life outdoors

Time To Be Inspired

Indulge in Creativity

trikatykid & the dog

swim | bike | run | adventure | quilt | write

Life Is a Damn Circus

...And We Are The Circus Acts

Infinitefreetime.com

The blog of Luther M. Siler, Teacher/ Word-maker-dude/ Wanker for hire

Moondustwriter's Blog

penned with moon dust

antryump

"In search of truth "

O' Canada

Reflections on Canadian Culture From Below the Border

mamacravings

everything a mama could want

Garden of Eve

Growing my own, from garden to table.

mejfote

life fashion & more

MARVA SEATON BLOG

Lifestyle, Social Media, News, Commentary, Words of Hope and Inspiration

Learning to snap

Learning photography in New Zealand

Uncle Tree's House

Putting music to words, and words to pictures ~

Flowery Prose

Growing words....

Martha Keim-St. Louis' blog

watercolor and things that fall out of my fingers, art, watercolor, words

Frank Martyn

Inken Thought

The Karen Gibson Roc Blog

ALL THINGS POETIC

Miss Lou Acquiring Lore

Gallery of Life...

Juju Films

Cutting edge Multimedia Programming

Live & Learn

David Kanigan

eljaygee

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with audrey michelle

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