Amanda's 2012 Literature in Review

Happy New Years Eve to everybody! This is the time to reflect on the current and think about changes to the self. By “the self,” I mean the individual. What has influenced your life the most during the year? What change would you like to see happen in your life – and the world – during the new year of 2013? How can you help somebody else with the influence(s) you choose? Are you happy with the decisions you have made over the current year? What would you change in the next year with future decisions?

As I write this morning, I remember feeling anxious to begin the college semester  from Rose State College’s online Liberal Studies program. The session was to begin on January 23, 2012. For me, January 23 brought back painful memories of being hospitalized on January 23, 2011, after a tiny blood clot was found in the same right leg. I was not thinking about that heartbreaking experience. I had to concentrate on the present and what was about to take place.

I had time to reflect on the courses that shaped my college career. From the early 2000 to the 2011 period, I had taken several courses that led me to only having to take fifteen hours of residency at Rose State College. I had taken Appreciation of Music, World Religion, and Biology after recovering from blood clots. Education of the self provided a sense security I had lost due to hospital stays. Up until this point, I had been a “C” student. Using the dictionary help me with vocabulary terms. Keeping an active daily planner helped me learn how to become a more disciplined student and woman..

From reading survivor stories during my time of healing, I learned that expressing the self was needed for the recovery process. So, I knew I had at least done something right by keeping a journal. One rape survivor began to sing karaoke and brought an awareness to women about her brutal attack. The more I read stories on how survivors cope with every form of abuse, the more I appreciated their openness, honesty, and humiliation. We experienced their humiliating experiences together. We traveled back in time to the abuse. That was important to me. I wanted to know how disgusted, repulsed, and vulnerable the survivors felt. I wanted the survivors to gut every emotion out into words and then cry, cry, cry. When there is no water left in their eyes, how do they make it in this world? I read, wrote about these survivors, and reached out to a woman I can never thank enough for sharing her story and bringing shame to my own college experience.

The cupcake on the cover of A Piece of Cake by Cupcake Brown led me to open the first few pages. A young female baby was named Cupcake simply because her mother wanted to eat a cupcake. Already, I liked the positive direction of the story. This child, Cupcake, became a foster child after her mother’s death. Her foster mother wanted money from the state. The house would be cleaned spotless by the few foster children living in the home. For work, there was a prostitution business. Cupcake experienced the evil part of this world early on. This negative direction led Cupcake on a downward spiral. Cupcake became involved with crimes, drugs, and isolation.

What changed Cucake’s life was her desire to become a lawyer. Cupcake’s own tragic experience with the foster care system made her want to create a change. As a young woman, she learned how to work in a law firm. There were a few hard times. Cupcake was attending a recovery group and her sponsor became her biggest cheerleader. This job led Cupcake to the road of attending college. As a woman with a limited background in education, Cupcake set high standards for herself. She did not attend college events or fraternities. She did not have time to make friends and socialize. Cupcake would be in her professor’s offices seeking help. Work and college became this woman’s world.

The end was happy. After all of this hard work, Cupcake graduated with top honors. As a woman who became hungry for more knowledge, I can never stop recommending this brilliant woman to other people. This woman dug the heels of her shoes into the excitement of education. I followed in Cupcake’s positive example with my own education.

When I entered the Liberal Studies program almost a year ago, I was one percent a bona fide conservative. I was the way Bach and Beethoven were with absolute music. After my program ended over the summer, I was feeling program music much like that of Saint Saens. When I refer to "absolute music," I mean the music followed a fixed style of music. With "program music," there was more liberation with the process of experimenting with music. Absolute music does not change over time while program music matures and develops  as new ideas are presented to composers and musical instruments are included. Even though I have great appreciation for Bach and Beethoven, the tragic deaths of Saint Saens small children made me understood why he needed a change. He created Carnival of Animals with such great love, care, and nurture that I began to program music rather than absolute music at the end of my course in Appreciation of Music. 

When I entered English literature during the Spring, I did not even realize this would be an advanced literature course. My professor provided my class and me with a lengthy list of writers from four periods, a choice between two questions to write over each month, and to check in three times a week on our discussion board. I had never taken an upper level literature course, and quite frankly, I did not know what to do or where to begin. This, however, did not prevent me from writing questions to answers.

  

The more I read older writings in English literature, the more I realized these thoughts and ideas seemed liberated. I enjoyed Wordsworth’s poems about nature. Several poets wrote over war, beginnings of new periods, lost loves, deaths, and hope. As I read English literature and American literature, I realized there was a difference. American poems from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries tend not be as expressive as senventeenth century English (British) literature. British poets seemed to be more comfortable with the pen and paper. There does not seem to be much of a repressive state or much fear.

One British writer I am not fond of is John Stuart Mills. As a critic of Lord Alfred Tennyson, Mills' criticism changed his writings forever.. No longer did this poet write to his heart's content, these feelings and thoughts became censored. I did read about the influences of Jeremy Benthem and John Stuart Mills in Ethics in Criminal Justice along with Immanual Kant, Marxism, and numerous other people. I was very impressed with the writings of Tennyson. I don't believe there should have been a change in his expression of words. The only change needed was Mills tolerance level, which was one of Aristotle's virtues. As a good friend, Mills could have appreciated the effort and thought Tennyson put into his writings and suggested in a nice way where improvements could have helped his writings. Or, Mills could have been thoughtful and written good reviews about how much he supported his literary friend's expression of poetry. There are always better alternatives than shutting a writer down.

One poem from English literature I will never forget is “My Last Duchess” by Robert Browning. In this poem, the narrator points out a painting of his former wife, his last Duchess. I read this poem as a warning for any future bride to stay away from the narrator. This narrator seemed to have an extremely jealous side. The last duchess had so much life in her body and livelihood. Maybe the narrator misinterpreted this behavior to be more than it really was. So, the duchess was sentenced to death. Her picture still hangs on the wall.

What could this painting symbolize to the narrator? As I think back to this poem, I feel this picture represented the narrator’s empowerment over his deceased wife. Each time this man looked at the picture, he is driven to not make the same bad decision making skills in settling for just any woman. This man became deprived of having a male heir to his name. The wife’s attention was not centered solely on their marriage. The wife was liberated from this apparent bondage. In this picture, the narrator is reminded of his commitment as a noble husband and his wife’s apparent lack of formal education of the home.

I enjoyed writing over “The General” by Siegfred Sassoon. This is a war poem. I wrote my heart on this poem along with a few others.  This poem stands out in my mind as something never to forget. When I do forget, I must re-read this. In order to write about this poem, I had to put myself in the shoes of the soldiers under this cheery-happy-go-lucky General who only visited a couple times away. How would I feel about this cheery General’s visit after I had watched fellow brothers fall to their death, watch them being taken to hospitals, and bullets flying by left and right? As a soldier, this cheerful attitude would bring back pleasant memories of civilian life with my parents, spouse, children, and friends. I would also feel resentment. As I was fighting for my country and freedoms, this General was losing himself. The General would not be same field as his soldiers. How could he be any different than cheerful if he does not have to breathe the war 24/7 the we do? If he had been in our shoes, that big smile would be showing human emotions, and there would be a time for everything as in Ecclesiastes.

British feminist writer Mary Wollstonecraft

Speaking of the way Matthew Arnold related feelings of repulsion and attraction to his Father’s religion, I felt the same way when selecting to read Mary Wollstonecraft’s A Victindication on the Rights of Woman and responses to Edmund Burke’s conservative writings on mankind. Along with English literature, I was also taking Ethics in Criminal Justice and American Literature. Combined, my agenda was busy writing over each new story, author, and idea. So, the way the I felt about this new feminist perspective on womanhood felt intimidating. This new female voice of Mary Wollstonecraft was strong and assertive in her liberated view on the education of woman. I struggled reading the conflict of women’s roles between Wollstonecraft and Burke. Both authors created several good points and arguments that followed.

In the end, I became a liberated woman. I learned that these strong feminist authors spoke – or wrote – over the issues and roles women deserved in their own lives. As I read more about Wollstonecraft’s personal life, I learned she married a famous male English author. This marriage was liberated. The couple had their own independent lives and friends. When the couple went out with friends, they would not be together. In the home, each author had a separate room to write in. Wollestoncraft’s life ended when she gave birth to their daughter, Mary Shelley, author of the great Frankenstein.

During this time, one story stood out by Meridel LeSeuer. This story was “Women on the Breadlines.” As a college educator, the college encouraged students  from taking creative writing courses offered by LeSuer. I do find the college LeSeuer to be unappreciated of her hard work and dedication to women. When I wrote about these women’s struggles in a paper, there was no doubt in my mind what my purpose in life was to become. These starving, oppressed, education-struck women needed a strong female advocate. As much as I cried over these stories and women, my strength everyday originates from these women.

A female literary character from “Women Are Hungry,” by Meridel LeSeuer, made the comment that a body is not able to live on bread alone. This reference comes from Luke 4:1-13 when Jesus is being tempted by Satan. Jesus asserts his true believes that bread does only provide nourishment a body needs to become fully developed. From this Biblical references LeSuer uses, I am glad to be given a glimpse of oppression and suffering feels like.

There is another feminist author who changed my perspective on womanhood. As this year ends and 2013 begins, I feel Elizabeth Cady Stanton was a true pioneer for modern women. 

This liberated woman remained strong and faithful in  her writings spoken at women’s conventions. This woman believed in the abolishment of slavery. This woman believed women should have strong voices in local, state, and federal government and politics. This woman believed a woman should be granted voting right. This woman advocated for the education of women from all walks of life.

As I reflect back on changing from a conservative woman into a liberated female, this does not mean I am going to be going to be taking my maiden name with my last name. I am not going to sit in on political rallies. I am not going to partake in burning my undergarments. I am not going to support birth control because my life almost ended by the third generation pill. What I will do is try to teach women they are worthy of being loved, stood up for, and provided with the best education and resources available this world has to offer them. Each time I wake up in the mornings, I want to write a new entry that may help women in this world.

When I began a Liberal Studies program last January, I had no idea where the courses would take me. A year prior to this, I was laying in a hospital bed inside a hospital that was surrounded by snow. This snow was convinced it would stay awhile. During this time, the snow became a cheerful General to me. I was at the mercy of Mother Nature. This vulnerability led me to relate better to female characters in stories along with news stories of victimizations.

I could have withdrawn from my courses. When death became too much, I could have given up. 

Dealing with death has been the biggest struggle in my own life. I have watched loved ones pass away, become physically disabled, and the self suffers in solitude. I have stories and novels over heroines committing suicide. For the author's time period, perhaps this constituted as a dignified ending to a future of living with shame, guilt, and humiliation. Divorced women were not treated with respect as Edith Wharton writes in "Autre Temps." Kate Chopin's "A Respectable Woman" features a wife I do not find to be respectful. Kate Chopin's novel The Awakening features a young wife and mother finding her renaissance and trying to make it onn her own. I have my own thoughts on how the woman could have changed the tragic outcome of her ending. In Edith Wharton's Summer, a young librarian becomes fascinated with the idea of a romance. The love interest winds up hiding Charity, the main character, and she becomes the charity wife of her adoptive father. These two authors wrote stories about women who would probably live in modern society. As a result, Kate Chopin received the worst cricitism from her male readers. This criticism closed Chopin down as a writer.

This is a good closing point for me this morning. I do not wish to give too much of hint for the subject of tomorrow’s writing. Those readers who know me well probably have an idea.I do love suspense with anticipation, however!

Have a wonderful New Year! Until next time,

Miss Amanda and ever faithful, furry K-9 companion Luigi

Luigi was showing me love and support yesterday as I worked out with my stationary bike and a set of weights. I am one blessed woman to have such a sweet little furry K-9 companion supervising my daily workouts!

Awakening Within the Self

This chip was the first day chip my husband received

This chip was given to my husband on his 30th day of being free of his addiction.

This evening my husband will be attending his regular meeting of Celebrating Recovery. The group my husband attends is strictly for men. Women have their own group in a different room at the church. This is the time men are able to get together and discuss their week and what may have happened. Last week the men were asked why they kept attending Celebrating Recovery. I like my husband’s answer because he included the  self. The self within the man of my husband needed help.

My wedding ring in the box in September 2010

When my husband’s pornography addiction spiraled out of control in November, this, too became a dark time in our marriage. Who could I turn to who would not judge my husband and suggest I leave him? What young person in my age group – or older - would have understood? I only confided in about three people at the time. And, today, as I write this, I could not be more grateful for expressing these toxic flames in my marriage to those I trusted the most. 

My husband has such a powerful life story and deserves so much better than to be overpowered by this disgusting addiction. Each week I send my husband off, I am so proud of him and of being his wife. My husband is worthy of forgiveness. My husband deserves to have work on the self. This will help him grow and develop more.God is still working on my husband each day!

In November, I also decided to seek treatment for my weight problem. As a teenager, I felt very different about my sexuality. Flashbacks of one specific event at the age of five would come and go. I thought if I opened up and expressed these flashbacks, I would be crazy. Somebody did tell me the truth but not the people  I wanted or needed to tell me. So, I coped by being put on anti-depressants and sought counseling here and there. When the truth became too painful, I would bail from counseling and medication altogether.

Realism became real in my life when I decided to seek help at Norman Regional Hospital on July 23, 2010. That date will always be the start of my personal “awakening” period. I was admitted to the hospital for a blood clot active in my right leg. After taking iodine and having an X-Ray of my lung area, a big clot was discovered. I called my husband soon after. I was crying on the phone. He called everyone he could think of to pray for me. This truth became devastating.

The causes of my blood clots were a combination of birth control and Cerebral Palsy. Whenever I hear and read about young women supporting this silent killer, I do feel devastated and that trauma replays in my mind again. I never stop reliving this nightmare. I really do not want to. This was a very discomforting part of my life, and I believe women should be aware.

After a couple months into being treated for blood clots, I made the decision to have a partial hysterectomy – the day before my husband’s birthday to be exact. I could not help that date. That date was the soonest the doctor could schedule surgery. I was emotional during this time also. This was something new and  scary. A part of my womanhood was going to be taken out and cut into tiny pieces. Instead of having a baby grow inside my uterus, there would be nothing.

This decision changed my life. As I stayed in the hospital for days, I was only able to watch television. I was not able to read library books. I was on a medication that prevented my concentration to be stable. I had a notebook thankfully, and one day I decided to write the goal of going back to college and finishing my degree.

Before this could happen, I had to make peace with my past. At the time, my husband and I had a really good female counselor. This woman listened to my stay in a place designed for children with special needs. I opened up about everything – being called into a room to play with big dolls, always being around one particular teenage girl in a wheelchair, and years of living with depression, shame, and guilt. I had problems with men during my twenties up until my husband and I became reunited.

My counselor asked me why I never became involved with drugs or alcohol the way she did after her sexual assault in her youth. I had no answer for her. I did not say something to please my counselor. I remember becoming withdrawn and quiet after the experience. I could have probably experimented with drugs and alcohol. This would have never gotten me to the point I am at today. I was raised in the Presbyterian faith. I graduated from high school with the goal of becoming a writer. I am aware that several people battle with drugs and alcohol to cope. One of my childhood friends served prison time for drugs because he was molested as a child by a neighbor. This friend passed away awhile back and left a young daughter behind. 

At twenty two, I requested a copy of my files because I wanted to know the truth. I found out the truth, and I found answers. I left my marriage because my husband was the same way. He wanted my flesh more than he wanted a marriage in holy matrimony. God was not the center of his life. In fact, he blamed God for his problems. He took God’s name in vain and I witnessed verbal abuse from his mother. The time for me to leave was when he wanted us to move to Stillwater so he could go back to the bar hopping life.

I later on destroyed the files. I could not handle reading about my past and trying to move forward at the same time. One summer day, I was drawn to a road I had never taken before in all my experiences in Norman. I drove down a peaceful path. I was searching for my guardian angel. For fifty years, this woman lived the direction I found. I did not find her house that day as much I would love to write this. Finding this woman took work and suffering. I eventually found this woman by searching for her name  online. An old class list appeared on the screen. The woman’s name, address, and phone number appeared.

The rest is history, as they say. I was able to give this woman at Christmas time. this was important to me because this woman came into my life two years after my paternal grandmother passed away. I never was able to give Grandma a gift as an adult. I gave this woman a statue of a lady wearing a purple dress. She stood in the manner as the wife did in “Ode to a Capable Wife.” In my mind, this is the way I pictured this lady.

We keep in touch regularly. We call each other, send cards to each other, and have a beautiful friendship today. We share dog stories. When I became reunited with this woman, she had a small dog living in her home for years. This dog passed away soon after we met. She was able to get a new puppy. I loved hearing stories she spoke of on training Trevor. She loves hearing about Luigi’s growth.

After I found my guardian angel, everything seemed to make sense. My counselor suggested I write a letter in my daily journal to  the teenage girl. I did. In this letter, I shared so much. I did not share my present life with her. I did share the good news that I had found the nurse who had taken care of us. I asked if she remembered her. I took comfort that I did not know this teenager in today’s world. I felt a disconnection to this teenager. I felt a sense of comfort. I felt rid of the guilt, shame, self-destructive behaviors, and a sense of intimacy was returned to my identity.

No more did I need to give myself to anyone else so the person would not take it from me. I 

have since learned that my body is a vessel to God. God lives in my body. Nobody is going to steal this away from me. I have realized over these past two months t\hat I have power over my own body. Temptation does not need to be darkening my door the way it did with Eve. Discomfort made me suffer to get where I am today.

As my husband leaves each night for his Celebrating Recovery group, I am thankful God blessed me with such a strong man who wants to live right. There are so many temptations men and women are faced with in this world. One of our Pastor friends in the Nazarene faith summed it up well to my husband, “When we hurt ourselves, we hurt Jesus, too. His death saved us from our sins.”

When we fool around with our pasts and dabble in temptation, we hurt ourselves. A critic may say, ”Your husband hurt you, too.” I am aware of this. My husband and I come from two completely different backgrounds. He is from a liberated state and I come from a conservative state. In his state, pornography is more open and sold on the streets. When my husband was a teenager, an owner of a news stand sold him pornography magazines. The owner was busted by the police to not sell pornography to minors. And yet he still did.

None of the Jehovah Witnesses would go to the police after my husband was interrogated (I believe). If my husband was to misbehave, his aunt would threaten to send him to live in a boys home. In the third grade, my husband wanted to attend college and his aunt argued with him. Her life for my husband was to go from door each day with Watchtower magazines. When my husband did enter college at Kingsborough Community College in Brooklyn, a professor told my husband he did not belong in college and made him take time off.

At this time, my husband’s mental illness was discovered. He was dating a female Honor student who was only dating him because she had pity for him. My husband received treatment for his mental illness and returned to college. My husband broke up with his girlfriend because she blamed all of her problems on God. She eventually began dating another male student who worked at McDonald’s. Only this time around, the couple dropped out of college to raise a baby girl.

In February, I was beginning to lose weight again. For my birthday, my husband bought me a beautiful pink blouse with ruffles at the top. We were invited to dinner with our counselor and his wife. I wore this blouse along with black slacks. We got inside the car with our counselor’s wife. On the way, our counselor announced that he was bringing a male client with him who also had Cerebral Palsy. My husband did not like this. Being the optimistic person I was at the time, I thought the best in the situation. What harm could there be?

My diet went out the closed glass window, for one. I kept wanting to eat more food. So, seconds became thirds. Still, the young man’s eyes were on my body. This young man’s eyes did not leave my body until we all left. As I reflect back on this situation, I realize we were the ones who were placed in a vulnerable situation. Our counselor discussed my situation with a man we did not even know, nor did we give him the permission to do this. I do have trust issues, and this sent me on an eating spiral.

When we told the wife about the incident, she said the man did not know Jesus and this was why he acted that way. My husband and I have had several friends in our lives who have not shared our Christian beliefs. These friends have never crossed their boundaries with. Making excuses for someone else’s behavior should not be tolerated. So, we decided to move on and discontinue ties with this couple. If another client is unable to behave in an appropriate manner in public, I really do not want to put in that situation or put myself in that situation. I have higher morals and standards.

This is one area I have dealt with since November, before Thanksgiving Day. I had a doctor’s appointment around that time. I weight one hundred and eighty-nine pounds during this visit. My weight had increased. There was an option for me. I could take a two months supply of Phentermine. I decided to take this medicine because I wanted to look good for my birthday. My doctor laughed with the joy I felt inside. 

Since insurance refused to cover diet pills, this was my husband's Christmas present to me. My husband knew I had a goal to lose weight for health reasons. My husband loved me. My husband wanted the best for the self. Without love for the self that is nourished each day by reading, writing, exercising, and loving others, what is there for me? This not the desirable life, nor is this what God wants for my life. Womanhood means being active and giving back to others and feeling good in the process. Womanhood means being responsible and wanting to do and feel better. Working on the self may seem selfish to many. I remember back to when I shoveled snow on my own birthday a few years ago. This act was not to benefit myself. My husband had no heat in his home nor did he live in a good area. The more I worked and Good Samaritans helped me, the more humanity I felt. The freezing temperatures numbed my fingers, areas of my body ached in places I had never felt before, and my goal was met. I had to reschedule the ride to my husband's city for the next day.

The next day I could barely eat, much less move. But this feeling was to live for. Somebody else received hope and a new home in the area I lived in. I enjoyed helping a fellow college student find a home that had heat and water that did not freeze during the winter. I loved the process involved, and if I had to do this all over again. My marriage is a give and take marriage. My husband and I love, respect, and admire each other.

 Since that my day, I am able to work out to music and eat better, healthier foods. Each day I work out, pain from my past slips away a little each time. The man who had Cerebral Palsy will never know this success I feel. He is not here. The flashbacks from my past have long been put to rest. The memories of my first marriage feel like ages ago. The first step I took in this process was not easy.

I will go a step further. In my past experience, I have learned that those who love to prey love to do so on people who are often times overweight and have really low self-esteems. This is a vicious cycle that can be stopped. We can stop this by standing up for ourselves. We deserve better than to be disrespected and treated terrible. The good news is that we can share our experiences with those who may be struggling with the same issues as us. There is hope for the self. We are living in a world where self-help books are available. We can watch positive television shows on television and online. We do not have to watch the news each.

Tomorrow is New Years Eve, and I plan to spend a good part of the day watching “The George and Gracie Show” on Antenna Television. My husband and I watched an episode on my birthday on Friday evening. When I watched the ending, I smiled. Mr. Burns’ love and admiration for his beautiful wife was radiant to me. When she spoke her thoughts at the end, I could see the respect from Mr. Burns. Mr. Burns married an intelligent, funny, and lively lady. This lady helped Mr. Burns  grow with the self.

I leave with prayer requests for a female college in India. This past week this lady was  gang raped and beaten to death. The news reported that many sexual assaults against women in India remain unreported. This is not an easy revelation to absorb. Women’s rights in India country need to change.  This young woman was not seen as a woman but a sex object. This woman had goals and dreams. This woman could have been a lovely bride and mother. Instead, this woman’s life was stolen from her by men who could care less about the beautiful creation she was. Every woman in our world should mourn for this woman’s death. I can feel Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Meridel LeSeuer crying from their mansions in heaven. 

 

I was able to get this toaster oven yesterday afternoon. On Black Friday, my husband woke up to get a toaster oven for $8 at a store. The last three toasters were bought by a young woman buying three toasters. This was the only available toaster oven in the store. Persistence paid off!