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NEW BOOK: FLYING WITH BROKEN WINGS…

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Source: NEW BOOK: FLYING WITH BROKEN WINGS…

 

 

An excerpt from Flying with Broken Wings

“The Demons”

 

When she became older, any typical day was as one in the fall of 1997; I was leaving for work and Charlotte was sitting in the middle of her bed talking in the voices of a man, woman and sometimes a little girl. She never gave these personas’ a name; however, I knew the tone of their voices, all too well.

 
This behavior was a red flag for me; before I went to work, I gather up all the sharp knives, everything sharp putting them in the trunk of my car. I knew what might happen when I got home.

 
I arrived that night standing by my car staring up at our living room windows. Yes, Charlotte lived with me for thirty-nine-years, I pretended not to see her look out the window; when suddenly the lights went out I knew that she would be in her dark bedroom. I knew when I walked in the door that, the Charlotte I knew when I went to work that day had gone away.

 
In her place was the persona of the man and woman with evil minds whose intent was to control her and harm me. The little girl seems to be there for Charlotte’s protection, she always talk kind and sweet, begging Charlotte to stay calm and not listen to the other voices.

 
The first words I would hear upon walking in the apartment was that of Charlotte’s own voice begging the man to go away, and then he would speak to her with a low menacing evil sound coming through Charlotte.

 
“Get up, you know what you should do”, his voice almost a low growl.

 
Suddenly she was standing in the kitchen, towering over me. I tried to show no emotion, I ask how her night went, my usual patter before I went into the bathroom. My own voice as calm and normal as I could make it sound. I showered, turned on the TV while she pace from kitchen to her bedroom, stopping occasionally to stare irately at me. I took my car keys and handbag into my bedroom; closed the door placing a security stick under the doorknob.

 
I went to bed secure that she could not get to me. I was not afraid to die; I did not want was for Charlotte to live out her life with such a heinous act hanging over her. It was then that I heard the man voice calling from the other side of my bedroom door, the man with no name.

 
“Better not go to sleep, I’ll cut your troth.”

 
The personas that developed over time were deep within Charlotte’s psyche; he and the woman could take over her thoughts and actions any time that they wanted too. I had tried to talk to him and the woman before, begging both to leave her alone; they would curse me and say they were going to kill Charlotte and me too.

 
The incident is only one of many that she and I would have to endure. I am in hopes that Charlotte’s story can help others who live under the same conditions to learn that living with these children is a forever changing pattern, one did not know where to go or what to do to help their child in those days, they were usually medicated to a zombie state.

 

Your support is appreciated and thank you for following…

 

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Helping People with Disabilities…

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Finished a three-mile walk, Mason is tired but he kept those little four legs moving.  He was ready to go back to bed; me I am ready for coffee.  It is a beautiful day here in Wisconsin.  Therefore, today I tackle “Rain, Fire, Secrets and Lies”.

It may possibly be a series as there are six families…do not know where it is going I am just going to keep writing until it makes sense as to what direction I need to go.

July 21, 2010, will be the seventh anniversary of my daughter Charlotte’ death.  The last ten years of her life, she was involved in such programs below.  My appreciation goes to the person who writes these articles, they are important.  I realize that it is long, I hope you have time to read it all, and support such programs located near you.

Have a great Tuesday and I will try to check in on as many blogs as possible today.  Hugs

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Medicaid Cuts In Wisconsin Would Undermine Training For Adults With Disabilities

June 14, 20172:32 PM ET

Alison Kodjak

It’s morning meeting time at Our Place Day Services, a day center for adults with disabilities, housed in a small concrete and glass building on Lovers Lane in Slinger, Wis.

About 30 people are gathered here, around a long table, reciting the pledge of allegiance. One man paces alongside the table, another sits in a wheelchair a few feet away. There’s a woman holding a baby in her lap and a friendly dog — a goldendoodle — wandering around greeting people with a sniff and a lick.

A modest operation based north of Milwaukee, on Interstate 43, Our Place serves as a safe place for people with severe cognitive disabilities to spend their days and learn news skills while the family members who usually care for them are at work.

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Clients at Our Place can participate in fun activities — do art or go bowling with staff from the center — and they also work on specific skills like money management or cooking. The center provides the sort of crucial support services that many people are concerned will no longer be offered if Republicans proceed with their planned cuts to Medicaid.

On this Monday morning, the clients at Our Place are sharing their goals — big and small. One man wants to finish a mosaic he is working on, while a woman down the table says she hopes to go to the movies with a friend someday.

Danielle Wirsbinski reads from a long list.

“To have a job, to do more volunteering, learn new skills, talk …. Taking classes go to school, to live on my own,” she says.

Another group member, Eric S. (who asked that we not use his last name because he is not comfortable going public about his condition), describes the work he is doing to be able to live on his own someday.

“Learning how to cook with Justine. Justine teaches me how to shop,” he says, referring to Justine Orr, a staffer who works with him at Our Place. “I learn how to clean with Justine and I did safety skills in the home.”

“We help men and women become the men and women they were meant to be,” says Donna Ellenbecker, director of Our Place.

However, she is worried about the Republican plan to overhaul Medicaid.

All but one of her 33 clients pays for their classes and care at Our Place with Medicaid dollars. Wisconsin’s Medicaid system includes a program called IRIS that grants people with disabilities a budget, based on their level of need, to use for services that help them live in the community.

The state’s approach is part of a national trend in recent decades to move people with severe developmental disabilities out of institutional settings by providing the support they and their families need to live more independently – either with their families, in community-based group homes or even on their own.

“Many of our people are interested in having their own apartment someday, and are living with their parents now,” Ellenbecker says. “They really need some help with the everyday skills of cooking and cleaning and doing the things that everyone else does to be able to live independently.”

President Trump and Republicans in Congress want to restructure the way Medicaid is funded. Instead of paying for all the medical care and services beneficiaries need, the health care bill Republicans passed through the House last month would grant each state a fixed sum per beneficiary based on what the state has spent in the past.

That per-capita allowance would increase over time, but at a slower rate than health care costs generally rise. Therefore, the Congressional Budget Office estimates that Medicaid funding under the plan would be 25 percent less in 10 years than it would be under current law.

“We’re no longer going to measure compassion by the number of programs or the number of people on those programs but by the number of people we got off those programs,” White House Budget Director Mick Mulvaney said last month. “We’re no longer going to measure compassion by the amount of money that we spend but by the number of people that we help.”

While Medicaid is best known as a health care program for poor people, more than 80 percent of its budget goes to care for the elderly, children and people with disabilities, according to the Kaiser Family Foundation. Only 15 percent goes to health care for able-bodied adults, the people that Mulvaney was likely referring to in his remarks.

The program has been growing in recent years and it now makes up almost 10 percent of federal spending. That is why it is the top target in President Trump’s proposed budget, and figures prominently in the House Republican proposal to replace the Affordable Care Act, also known as Obamacare. Some estimates suggest the program could be cut by more than a trillion dollars over 10 years.

Nevertheless, some Republicans in the Senate, who are now hammering out their own plan to replace Obamacare, are hesitant to make such big cuts to services for the poor, elderly people and those with disabilities.

The people who come to Our Place each day are not likely to be among those who can “get off” Medicaid. They are likely to need care and support services for their entire lives.

Ellenbecker describes how her program helps people engage in the community.

“We actually have a class that’s a date,” she says. “You know, ‘how you go to the movies with a friend.’ ”

That everyday joy has a number of steps — you have to figure out transportation, money, movie times and simply how to choose a seat in a theater.

To navigate all that, the woman who had listed going to a movie as one of her goals “would need somebody to come with her to help her with all of those things,” Ellenbecker says, “because she doesn’t have the skills to be able to do it independently right now.”

Other group members benefit from a job coach who can help them learn how to find and do a job, or keep one. Others need help managing money, cleaning their homes or getting to work. And other clients have even more basic needs, such as personal care and help with eating.

Ellenbecker worries that if the current Republican plan is passed, or the kinds of budget cuts Trump is proposing go through, the money for those support services just will not be there.

“It’s a 25 percent cut you know, and a 25 percent cut it is going to affect these programs,” she says. “There’s no way that a 25 percent cut can come out of any other program — except long-term care.”

That’s because many support services are considered optional under the law that governs Medicaid. So, if state lawmakers are forced to choose between say, job coaches, and traditional medical care, the job coaching is likely to lose out.

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AMAZON.COM

 

 

 

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NEW BOOK: FLYING WITH BROKEN WINGS…

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Flying with Broken Wings is about the life of Charlotte Jean Murphree. Charlotte was not a famous person, in fact, not too many people knew her, but those that did knew there were many facets to her life. the book tells of fifty-two-years of daily testing of her will to carry on and the misfortune she faced. As a baby and young girl she was made fun of by schoolchildren, her progress was slow but she never gave up the fight to overcome her disabilities. As an adult, she fought Cerebral Palsy, Living with Bipolar, Depression and Schizophrenia disorders. Charlotte lived not only with herself but she endured the “Voices” that lived within her for over thirty years. This book is about her beginning, her middle and the end of her life.

This book was a labor of love, Published in June 2017, now on sale at Amazon.com

 

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Wisconsin Weather…

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So…today is Friday and it is cold outside!  Mother Nature loves to play games with the people who live in Wisconsin.  We have had it in the 70’s and must now endure the mid-40 mark.  The coat I placed far to the back of my closet is now at the front.

The first time I knew there was land beyond the “Mason Dixon Line” was in March 1956, I was about seventeen years old, just married to a boy that had “faked” his southern accent.  After a wedding so to speak, not a shotgun one but arranged by parents to keep this young boy in the south.  That story too long for one post.  The arrangement did not work, as he was an Alabama transplant living in Wisconsin with his mother and stepfather for over a decade, and had always planned to return after he vacationed in the South.

Fresh out of the military he yearned for what was called “STAN & IRENE’S”, yep…a bar.  We went to Chicago by train, switched there to a train going to Beaver Dam, I slept, exhausted from the last two-weeks of sheer horror and missing my daddy; I may as well be a kidnapped victim.  It was dark when we got on that last train.  I stared out the window into the darkness thinking, this person no longer has a southern accent and what do I know about him, nothing.  Yes, I think back see myself as a kidnap victim.

When I woke in amazement, outside was a world I had never seen.  It was truly the most beautiful landscape I had ever seen other than the white sands and warm gulf waters of Panama City, Florida.  I had on a blue short sleeve sweater and a light green “poodle” skirt with a blue scarf tied around my neck and yes…saddle shoes and white roll down socks

This post was supposed to be about today’s cold right?  Well, I have veered off track.  I stepped off the train in a place called Fox Lake; I was scared and surprised…the “GOOD BOOK” had given me the impression that Hell was hot!

I rode from the train platform into Beaver Dam freezing; even the inside of the car was cold.  When we reached the home of my then husband’s parents it was not much warmer than the outside, but at least the wind was not blowing through the two story – two flat house.  As time went by, I knew that I had been sentenced to Hell for sure; I lived with the Devil and his followers.

When I acquired the proper clothing I loved the clean fresh look of snow, to toss it in the air and something I had never done make and throw a snowball with my new twelve-year-old sister-in-law, I loved snow.

Well, it now sixty-one years later, all of the people I knew then are gone, I hope to a peaceful place.  I still have a southern accent; do not ask me why…it just stayed with me.  I can live anywhere I want too, I continue to choose Wisconsin and its four seasons.

Nevertheless, please it is the end of April and it in the forties…give this ole southern girl a break!

 

 

 

 

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The American Dream…

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The American Dream…

There was a time when life flowed slowly like a perfect meadow stream, fresh was the air, blue was the sky; and everyone had a chance to live the American dream.

These things will never return, we have put a hole in the sky, we are destroying earth out of self-seeking for the things that we really do not really need.  The sky is no longer a clear blue, now we see it as a dingy hue, the rivers and streams are filled with debris, between Heaven and Earth hovers a cloud of toxic waste, we are destroying this planet at an ever-increasing speed.  Our wetlands are taken away sold to build summer get-away, gone are the lands, forest and streams where wildlife was free to roam, today it is some greedy rich persons million dollar home.

Listen, are the birds still singing a joyous song, we are not happy because our backyards we find mountain lions, foxes and deer who are only passing through; it use to be their feeding grounds.  We never give it a thought when these feeding grounds were gone, where did we expect Mother Nature’s children to call home?

Mother Nature tries to correct our mess with hurricanes, tornados and such, but I believe she thinks that saving these feeding grounds for her children is up to us.  It appears we do not care and one day all there may be are crumbling buildings, bridges and monuments that will all turned to dust.  Where you ask is that American dream, its lost among the rubble of crooks and banking schemes.  The planet will die and waste away in fishless oceans and down dirty mountain streams.

There was a time when life flowed slowly like a perfect meadow stream, fresh was the air, blue was the sky; and everyone had a chance to live the American dream.

©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

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The Coffee Table…

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This is a very, very short story of a long marriage that “ends” after thirty-six years with spurts of happiness and much tribulation; the end came over twenty-five years ago. Now that the logistics is out of the way, this numeric information is relevant to the title…the coffee table. 

I chose to end the marriage that had been filled little happiness and many tumult periods from the beginning.  It is important to know that before ending such a marriage my children were adults.  I walked away on a sunny June morning with a suitcase, my dog and a rented car.  I did not want anything that was a part of my past.  The coffee table bought in the mid-sixties was going to be tossed in the mid-nineties; it had been in the basement of my sons’ home.  Cleaning time. 

I said yes, I would take it.  Somehow it meant something to me; the only thing that I would have from my marriage.  This ageless contemporary piece of furniture carried with it many memories.  Shopping for furniture in 1979 was during a better time, my then husband and I spent an entire day searching the stores until the one meant for us was found.  A few days later the table would be tossed across the room in a rage of madness, the inside frame broken.  I repaired the table and it was like new.

It would appear that the coffee table itself was somehow demonic.  Over the period of ten-years, the coffee table would split open the chins and one cut above an eye of two boys wrestling in the living room.  It placed cuts on grandchildren that tripped and fell on its corners.  It left bruises on shins of the entire family who chose to hurry around the object of discussion.

 

It had its good moments too.  It served as desk where hundreds of thousands pages of homework was done.  Throughout its “life” served as step stool, craft table, coloring table, and eating and snack table.  It has held plants, books and other things during the different seasons.  I smile as I think back at the many good times my children and I had sitting around this table when my husband was out of town.  We glorified the days without chaos.  When I received the coffee table, I painted the dark wood white, a pure color that would remove all turmoil significance.  Throughout these past years, it has been repainted the same white many times.

This brings me to the present and for the record, I have stated many times that the table is being held together by the paint.  Apparently, it was…my four-year-old grandson used it as a bounce board and then I sat on the table to talk to my granddaughter and poof; I ended its life and an era.

 

Well you would not believe the “moans” from my children, “ah can’t it be fixed”?

 

There was no pain in its exodus from my home, well maybe a little as it was heaved into the trash.  I suddenly understood that I had held onto it for the memories, memories that are embedded deep within me.  The good ones I will keep, the bad will soon be hauled away.  I thought about what could have been and never was; time wasted, and I looked for the last time at the only thing that was left of a long marriage… the coffee table.   

 

 

 

©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

 

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The Tapestry of Life

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The Tapestry of Life…

The individual self is an actor, life is the stage; we are masters of our emotions capable of expressing self-assurance, joy and rage.

There is a hidden self, living deep within the forest of life, one that we prefer not to show, it is only the image of strength and confidence that we truly choose to expose.

It is during the times of valleys and peaks, darkness and fear; that we wear a mask, we masquerade keeping emotions hidden in the forest of our souls, yet within sight and near.

The landscape of ourselves guides us to better places, and it is the silent strong self that transforms our outward faces.

To believe in our aspirations and make our lives worth living, to hope we cling; it is within the landscape of our strong confident selves that allows us to dream.

We perform in our world upon the stage of life where we remain perfect impressionist; yet it is only when we change the landscape of our lives we find true happiness.

©2017.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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[All writing is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.]

Your support of my blog and its contents are appreciated

Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

 

 

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