I’ll be sharing things on 12 Step Recovery, Codependency, Sex, Love & Fantasy Addiction, Co-Addiction, Mental Health, Inner Child, Adult Children of Alcoholics and other Dysfunctional Families and some great links to related articles and audios.

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I look forward to reading all your comments and thank you for stopping by

Amy Winehouse with Daddy's Girl Horseshoe & Naked Lady Tatoo

When Amy was 2 years old,  her father Mitch Winehouse reportedly began having a ‘not so secret’ affair for eight years before leaving the family home to be with his secretary/mistress when Amy was 10.  The Winehouse kids used to call their father’s mistress “Daddy’s work wife”.  I can only imagine the emotional pressure Mitch was under trying to maintain a business and keep two women happy at the same time.

She reportedly took the news of the family separation ‘all in her stride’ and it ‘didn’t seem to affect her’ according to her father yet she suddenly became more independent.

I can only imagine the thoughts in her head would have gone something like this:

• “Can’t trust anyone anymore, need to look after myself now”;
• “I’m not good enough”;
• “I am alone”;
• “Nobody loves me”;
• “I’ll be good and he will come back”; and
• “I need to be strong, mum needs my help”.

Fear of abandonment runs very deep and when you have a father that is not emotionally available to you, you do what it takes to get people to notice and love you.

As an adult, it seems Amy went on to seek out emotionally unavailable men, trying to make right the wrongs of her past yet ended up repeating her childhood like so many of us do.

However I do applaud Mitch Winehouse for publicly admitting his wrongs.  He would not be the first parent to walk around with their head in the sand not realising exactly how their actions affect the lives of their children.

If we had more people in the public eye opening up about their parental errors, the world just might start listening.

Mitch Winehouse, the power is in your hands. Let’s not let Amy’s death be in vain.

My grandmother used to sing that children’s song when I was young but little did I know I would have a hole in my bucket (my soul) when I grew up because my caregivers were so focussed on each other and my father’s alcoholism they were emotionally unavailable to me.

As a result I developed coping mechanisms, ways to help me feel loved, wanted and accepted for who I am.  I tried to fill the gaping  hole in my soul  the only way I knew how as a child, by self medicating through fantasy and role-playing.

In essence, I stuck a band aid over my hole when I needed love and comforting.

Band aid’s eventually wear thin and get replaced with new ones, sometimes bigger and stronger.

I still carry my band aid close to my chest but it has served little purpose except to temporarily patch up my underlying problem - pain, loneliness and an inner longing to be loved, accepted and wanted by my family. 

I can scream, rant and rave that life’s not fair but it won’t change the fact that I cannot go back to my childhood to ask my caregivers to meet my un-met needs.

It is now up to me to fill the hole in my soul by reaching out to a power greater than myself to provide me with the love and acceptance denied of me in childhood.

I can do this by reading 12 Step and self-help literature, attending 12 Step meetings, talking to other members and/or attending counselling.

As I watch a few grains of yellow sand fall into my bucket I am reminded of what a slow process this journey is and every now and again the band aid comes away and I am reminded of the deep despair I carry within.

I Wanna Go Home!

I have no patience yet expect to produce masterpieces.  All I seem to come up with is child like pictures with no definition.  I have so many colours in my head but am unable to express them in an artistic ADULT way.

It’s so frustrating!  I so badly want to be good at something.  I have been desperately trying to find something I’m talented at.  I’m dabbling in all kinds of arts and crafts but where is my brilliance?

Perhaps I am seeking the approval of someone and pushing a lost cause or maybe I desperately want admiration from the outside world?  Am I setting myself up for failure by setting my sights too high (self sabotage)? These are things I need to consider in-depth.

I wanna go home, please let me go home!

I was recently reminded of some of the side effects I experienced while taking Zeldox when the usual lump in my throat started to form.  I can almost feel it protruding from the back of my neck.  I am certain that this lump was never present before my Zeldox use and it’s been around 24 months since I’ve been Zeldox free yet the lump in my throat regularly continues to be an ever-present pain in the neck!

I realise that a lump in the throat also referred to a choking or gagging sensation can be attributed to anxiety but my point is that I NEVER suffered such acute anxiety until I starting using Zeldox.

One thing I distinctly remember is when it drew close to the time  my next dose  of Zeldox was scheduled the lump would appear and it became increasingly prevalent UNTIL I swallowed that daily pill.

It would be easy for me to say that around 1.5 hours PRIOR TO  my scheduled Zeldox dose I would start to go into withdrawal.

The lump in my throat and just a general feeling of sickness would become noticeable to me whereupon waiting out the timeframe until my scheduled dose was due would become a constant struggle to ignore what was happening to my body. 

It would be easy to say that the side effects of Zeldox would have been one of the most difficult of medications for me to cope with.  I have heard it said many a time that the strength in mental illness sufferers lies in coping with the side effects of  their medications and for me and Zeldox, this rings true.

The tremors in my hands and legs together with slight head bobbing had me eventually diagnosed with probable tardive diskinesia - a condition arising from long-term anti-psychotic use (I was prescribed various antipsychotics over a two-year period before Zeldox was my final).  My tremors on Zeldox were so bad that I was shaking the whole bed when asleep.  I remember waking up one night thinking there was an earth quake before I realised it was only me! 

Some people have queried how long it took for the drug to leave my system.  Once I stopped the Zeldox the tremors DRAMATICALLY reduced however I still had mild  tremor issues for a good EIGHT MONTHS after ceasing this drug.

The problem with proving that medications cause permanent/long-term side effects in users is very difficult simply because there are not a lot of psychiatrists out there that will stand against the mental health system or each other.  Trying to prove that Zeldox caused my anxiety would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack not to mention the money tree I’d need to grow in the backyard to afford the legal fees.

Regardless, the best thing we can all do as consumers is make the world aware of how medications affect us.  Just because the side effect is not listed on the box, doesn’t mean it’s not a result of the drug you’re taking so please if you’re interested in reading more about Zeldox/Ziprasidone/Geodon then be sure to read my earlier posts on my experiences with the drug and the comments by readers are an ABSOLUTE MUST.

Here are the links to my other posts on my experiences with Zeldox/Geodon (Ziprasidone) for your ready reference:

1. Zeldox & Anger
2. Zeldox & After Effects
3. Zeldox A Worker’s Antipsychotic - TOP POST 46 COMMENTS & CLIMBING
4. WOW – I hate this drug

There is nobody here to cut the ball and chain of my responsibilities, my chores

To allow me to run and play like a carefree child, to think of happy things and make daisy chains in the sun

When will someone hear my cry?

You walk away and leave me alone to deal with my internal sadness, you desert me

Who is here to soothe my pain, to love me and tell me it will be all right?

Only God, but Dad said God does not exist

So I am alone

I get tired of fighting for acceptance, to be heard, to be understood and to be unconditionally loved

But most of all I get tired of fighting to be considered, to be thought of and cared for

You cannot look at me, you stare away or down at the ground

You no longer care what happens, you are not interested in my words unless they are happy ones

I am an adult yes, but I am still a lonely child

It’s deja vu, its history repeating itself.