Saturday, June 25, 2016

Why socialism is necessary

READ THIS, ESPECIALLY MY FAMILY. WHEN YOU FAIL TO UNDERSTAND THE NEED FOR SOCIAL SERVICES , YOU'RE PART OF THE PROBLEM, NOT THE SOLUTION!

Regarding socialism:

SOCIALISM:
a political and economic theory of social organization that advocates that the means of production, distribution, and exchange should be owned or regulated by the community as a whole.

CAPITALISM:
an economic and political system in which a country's trade and industry are controlled by private owners for profit, rather than by the state.

Democratic socialists believe that both the economy and society should be run democratically—to meet public needs, not to make profits for a few. To achieve a more just society, many structures of our government and economy must be radically transformed through greater economic and social democracy so that ordinary Americans can participate in the many decisions that affect our lives.

Democracy and socialism go hand in hand. All over the world, wherever the idea of democracy has taken root, the vision of socialism has taken root as well—everywhere but in the United States. Because of this, many false ideas about socialism have developed in the US.

MY STORY:
My father is a narcissist (Narcissistic personality disorder is a mental disorder in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for admiration and a lack of empathy for others. But behind this mask of ultraconfidence lies a fragile self-esteem that's vulnerable to the slightest criticism.).
My mother, who committed suicide when I was nine, was a bold and outspoken woman.
I witnessed, first hand, the effect each of them had on the other. In his inferiority, he attempted to outshine her. When he could not, he attempted to control her, belittle her, diminish her exuberant personality, as she, and her honesty and willingness to stand up to him, terrified him and easily bruised his fragile ego. When he attempted to make her feel less superior, she got in his face, she spoke her mind, she told his secrets to his family, which she was closer to than he was. She went shopping on Michigan Avenue, spending his money, she took every chance she could get to prove him the liar that he was, by being the perfect hostess at Holiday dinners, quite often thrown by her, preparing every food item from scratch, setting a table Martha Stewart would admire, and entertaining his family with grace and fun. One would think he would appreciate that, be proud, but no, he felt even more intimidated by her. He took away her money, her car, her freedom, and told her she was incapable of leaving him and supporting me. He told her if she left him and took me, he would never give her a dime, and that she would fail miserably. This drove her to drink and abuse barbiturates, which led to severe depression and her subsequent suicide. He was then able to tell his family that he was right about her all along. I was there, I saw what he did and why. I know the truth, and that makes me a threat to his illusion, and, therefore, he has perpetrated the same abuse upon me, as he did her.
He beat me with a paddle fashioned with holes for greater impact, he busted my nose three times, I still cannot breathe properly, he threw a scrub brush at my face with full force, busting and scarring my upper lip. He kicked me in the stomach so hard, that my body went flying over the back patio, causing me to land on a tree stump, causing injury to my back that recently showed up on my MRI, making my spine look like a crushed pencil, with loose shavings all around it. I wake with pain every day, and am forced to take pain medicine I detest, just to get out of bed. He always instilled in me, that if I loved him more, he would be reciprocal, however, he never loved me, causing considerable damage to me, socially. He put me in a children's home because he didn't want me, then told my family it was because I had behavioral problems. There is no history in any of my past or records that I had behavioral problems. That was a lie. I thrived at the home, while away from him.
At 50 years old, I still suffer the physical subsequence of his abuse. I have been diagnosed with PTSD, yet have never been in an abusive relationship since I stood up to him at 16 and left his house, of my own volition. I have never been involved in drugs, nor do I have a criminal record. I can't work. I want to make money, but I'm so fucked up from what he did to me and my mother, that I require mental health medicine, pain medicine and weekly therapy.
I live in a $90,000 condo, rent and utility free, as I am in a state program run by the state mental health office. I receive  $300 a month from them for personal needs. I receive  $200 a month in food stamps. I receive full medicade to treat all the problems that exist because of my father's abuse. For the first time in my life, I can breathe. I am safe. I am learning how to be social and have positive relationships. I'm leaning how to trust. I'm leaning all the things my father failed to teach me.
He did this, and most of my family knows this, because they saw it. I ran to my uncle Earnie's house, three doors down, bleeding, I ran to my uncle Frank's house when I left home, my aunt Lois, Marie, and Sue know from my mother, what he did to us, my aunt Judy, aunt Era, and aunt Billie begged him to let me live with them. Every one of their children know exactly what happened to me. No lies. No secrets.
I believe in socialism because I live it. I need it. I was abused beyond just growing out of it. I didn't ask for this, but when I asked for help, the state of Nevada and the government stepped up, to fix what HE did. Blame him, not me, for living off your government. Be narrow minded, and judge me, harshly, but you were there, you saw what he did.
When capitalists blame people for being lazy and living off the government, start placing the blame where it belongs, goddammit, on those that did this to us, not us. We don't want this any more than you do. Blame those that put us here for taking your money, not the victim who is working their ass off to become a survivor!

Sunday, June 5, 2016

"Wherever I Go"

I know I could lie but I’m telling the truth
Wherever I go there’s a shadow of you
I know I could try looking for something new
But wherever I go, I'll be looking for you

Some people lie but they're looking for magic
Others are quietly going insane
I feel alive when I’m close to the madness
No easy love could ever make me feel the same

I know I could lie, but I won't lie to you
Wherever I go, you're the ghost in the room
I don't even try looking for something new
Cause wherever I go, I'll be looking for you

Some people try but they can't find the magic
Others get down on their knees and they pray
I come alive when I’m close to the madness
No easy love could ever make me feel the same
Make me feel the same
Make me feel the same, same, same

I know I could lie but I’m telling the truth
Wherever I go there’s a shadow of you
I know I could try looking for something new
But wherever I go, I'll be looking for you
Wherever I go, I'll be looking for you, you

Some people pray to their God for some magic
Cause no easy love could ever make them feel the same
No easy love could ever make me feel the same
Make me feel the same, same, same

I know I could lie but I’m telling the truth
Wherever I go there’s a shadow of you
I know I could try looking for something new
But wherever I go, I'll be looking for you

You think it's a lie when I'm telling the truth
Wherever I go, I'll be looking for you
Wherever I go, I'll be looking for you
Looking for you, looking for you, ah

Friday, January 29, 2016

Brain Scans and the Antisocial Spectrum

Does autism alter the white matter of the brain? http://dailym.ai/1WRA8T5 via http://dailym.ai/android

Does autism alter the brain, or is an altered brain the cause of autism?
Autism is a social disorder and falls within the spectrum of antisocial personality disorder.
Brain scans performed on inmates in the penal system have indicated differences in the frontal lobes of men diagnosed with antisocial personalities, as opposed to those who were not diagnosed with the disorder.
In an attempt to understand APD, should we not scan the brains of all people who fall within in the spectrum? Perhaps APD is, on some level, organic; treatment indicating medication, as cognitive behavioral therapy seems to have failed miserably up until now, may be the answer.
Aledgedly, one quarter of the the human population suffers from sociopathy; doesn't it behoove the medical community to investigate this option?
Studies indicate that behavioral therapy fails because sociopaths apparently utilize their tools and behavior to fool the therapist into believing they are completely fine in regards to personality, and in many cases these people never seek treatment in the first place.
I am excited to see research making strides in regards to autism, and I hope that  because of the brain changes, that autism might be treated medicinally, however, I would really like to see everyone on the antisocial spectrum receive the same advocacy. It seems that presently, sociopathy is one, highly misunderstood, and two, stigmatized in popular culture. These people are our children, our spouses, our friends. If sociopathy can be treated with medication that influences the frontal lobe, we might actually make major strides, perhaps, in the treatment of everyone on the spectrum.

-Deannalynn Arzola

Sunday, January 17, 2016

A few things happened over the new year. My birthday follows the new year by one week. This year, I turned 50. 
When I turned twenty, I became pregnant with my only child. In my twentys, I fell in love for the first time. In my twentys, I married my husband. I was waiting for the right man to be my daughter's father, antithetical to my father, who remarried the stepmonster so he could have a wife, not so I could have a mother, which he actually told me. 
In my thirtys, I was a wife. We had a lovely little family. We had a few homes, several dogs, we took in my daughter's boyfriend when his mother hit the skids. We really had a nice, domestic life.
On my forty-first birthday, my husband cheated on me. In my fortys, I learned how to live my life in basic solitude. I wasn't a wife, I wasn't a mom, I wasn't a daughter. My daughter was having her own babies, my husband was basically screwing a baby, and I had not spoken to my ex-father in ten years. In my fortys, I began to search for myself, my authentic self, who I really am when I'm not busy being someone else's something. In my fortys, I met my soul mate, that person who magnifies the darkest corners of your soul, shows you who you truly are and all the demons you've been holding at bay all your life, that person who has been through exactly what you've been through, but has handled things so differently than you, you both have to stop and observe deeply one another, so as to attain the tools you've been lacking all this time. It was an arduous journey, in my fortys, however necessary. 
As my fiftys approached, I knew I had to utilize all I had learned throughout my life, so I could finally breathe. I wanted, and still do, my fiftys to be MY decade, so I practiced a little magick. I bound those who had displayed so much control over my emotions, my thoughts, my behavior. I wrote their names on parchment paper and wrote a spell, in which I prayed for the permanent extrication of their toxic existence in my world. I've been practicing the same theory in weekly therapy sessions, as well. On new year's eve, I watched those people go up in smoke, I flushed the ashes down the toilet. I made plenty of room in my life for all the goodness I have deserved all along, but was denied because of the behavior I displayed ancillary to said aforementioned demons. In my spellwork, I kept only the things I know I cannot live without; my soul mate, my spirit guide, myself.
In only the two weeks since the new year, those things I let go of have disappeared, and the things I hold so tightly have reappeared. That's magick; when you're a good practitioner, be careful what you wish for, nevertheless, this weekly Horoscope I just received in my inbox really says it all:




Blessed be my wishes and my hard work; may they continue to be the catalyst for the life I crave...in my fiftys. 

-Deannalynn Arzola 

Saturday, January 9, 2016

Your Words 

A primal cry
Born in the soul
Tears blind me
From the words before me
Your words

Your words-
Death to some,
They are my life 
Repetitively read
To elicit the joy 
That they yield 

My eyes burn
As does my soul
Screaming gratitude 
To the gods
For the only thing
I prayed of them
Oh, my love,
Thou doest provide 

In the midst
Of the greatest storm,
You, my love, 
Are my anchor 
Your words are my breath 
Your presence 
My spirit 

By virtue of you,
I am me
Perpetually satiated 
By the communion 
Of us.

By Deannalynn Arzola 
For my beloved Shadow 


Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Letting Go Is Not So Easy

           Letting Go Is Not So Easy

Letting go is not so easy
Of the charming words
You say to please me

Letting go is not so easy
Of your wicked kisses
How they tease me

Letting go is not so easy
Of this addiction 
That has seized me

Illusion, memories
I beg to break free
But letting go is not so easy

by Deannalynn Arzola