Category Archives: family
The Longest Journey
Healing from trauma is a long journey. Lifelong, for some. In my late 40s, my own journey is just getting started. There is a lot to work through and I’m not exactly sure where to begin however I know it has to happen if I’m ever going to start thriving. Since I was 17, it’s just been surviving (and sometimes barely, at that).
Usually the advice is just to start at the beginning, square one, but we’re talking about going back to before I was born, with my mother’s toxic relationship with my father, her dysfunction in the way she treated my grandmother, and my grandmother’s own dysfunctional upbringing. This realization that it goes way back prompted me to purchase a book entitled It Didn’t Start With You by Mark Wolynn. My daughter, who is going through her own healing process, bought it about 4 years ago and strongly recommended it to me. It addresses generational trauma and PTSD with studies backed by leading experts in neuroscience and post-traumatic stress.
At its most basic, it affirms that in histories like mine (and by proxy, my daughter’s), some of the behaviors I exhibit may not come from abuse handed to me throughout my life, but may be pre-programmed types of reactions to things that happened before me and have been passed down genetically. It would seem the genes we carry are programmed for far more than blue eyes or big thighs. Mental states, even reactive memory, too can run in the family.
This honestly takes a lot of pressure off. Instead of asking what’s wrong with “me,” now I can go back and see that it wasn’t me. It does not become a matter of shifting blame for a rotten situation – I am not looking to blame – it instead becomes a matter of, “where did this come from – this trauma response to every little thing, this fear, this anxiety and regression, depression, these trust issues, this inability to relate to others or hold a relationship, this inability to care for myself, this inability to thrive?” Once that is sorted, the next question becomes, “how do I heal?”
I know forgiveness is going to be a major hurdle in healing as I am nowhere near ready for that yet. My dad (who I met finally when I was 24) taught me that forgiveness does not mean saying what a person did was acceptable. It means that you – the forgiver – are willing to acknowledge it happened and essentially erase that debt, let it go. It does not mean necessarily forgetting. It simply means moving on. As of today though, even hearing the name “Brenda” automatically makes my jaw clench, my body tense, and triggers me to either fight or ball up and cower. That is the power she had over me and still does even though she’s finally deceased (and I do not regret feeling relief and even joy over that fact).
And this is why it is finally the right time for me to begin this journey through facing the pain and abuse, facing the fallout, and clearing my path to healing. I don’t want to carry all this trauma the rest of my life. It’s too much. The burden has kept me from so much happiness, health, and success that I can no longer accept having the baggage.
Covid is a Respite from Work
Disclaimer: I’m not condoning getting Covid. It’s horrible. We (my partner and I) are on day 19 of symptoms that keep coming in waves. It started Christmas Eve. We thought we just had a cold. Scratchy throat, sinusy, coughing, run-down. I started taking a ridiculous amount of zinc (Zicam) and symptoms started ebbing. Christmas night, they came back and by Sunday, I was wiped out. Still went to work Monday with a pack of tissues and a tickly cough that could best be described as annoying. My partner came in 4 hours later and told his supervisor how he was feeling at which point our respective supervisors immediately sent us to get the Brain Probe.
We tried the Health Department tent site – they had run out of tests hours ago but we were still able to register and the administrator promised to call us that afternoon saying she would hold tests for us when she got a resupply. That never happened. I tried to get us in at Walgreens, CVS, the local community clinic, and 2 walk-in clinics – could not get an appointment for over a week. Our job will not accept a home test – they must be done in a lab – but there were no home tests available either just for our own edification. We went home exhausted. I made some more phone calls. Finally I found a sketchy walk in clinic that confirmed there were tests available and they were testing every day from 10 til 2 with the caveat that it would cost $20 with insurance, $100 without. As mad as I was at that, we really had no other choice. Everyone else was no cost – as it should be in the 3rd year of a frikking pandemic – but there were simply no testing supplies anywhere.
The next morning, we tried the tent site again to no avail. Still no tests. We went on down to the sketch walk-in and were able to get right in. Within 72 hours, we had positive results in our emails. My blood went cold when I saw mine. I had no idea what I was in for, how bad symptoms would be, how it would affect my asthma, how long it would last. I had an unknown in my system and no idea how I would react to it. That was terrifying. Even more scary? How the hell am I going to tell my partner who was still sleeping and hadn’t checked his email yet? Having worked in a medical field for 20 years, he was especially up at arms about folks spreading it by not getting vaccinated. The twist here? We had both had both shots AND our booster was done just a week prior to showing the first symptoms. Plus we’d just spent Christmas with his family.
I told my dad first, then my sister, just to practice I suppose. They were concerned and supportive. By the time he woke up, he checked his email and saw his positive, I just said, “Same.” I thought he would be mad but he was just in shock. That was 2 1/2 weeks ago and we’ve had another positive test since then, awaiting our 3rd results. We keep calling in to work every day to ensure we’re still on the payroll. We’re not getting paid because our short term disability has a 2 week elimination period so that’s hit us for about 2 grand. We’re having to get financially creative.
On the bright side, we’ve gotten a lot closer during our quarantine and isolation. We’ve had many good talks, even some including marriage. I’ve gotten a lot done around the house and we’ve gotten caught up on things we’ve been letting slide, including intimate things. We’ve not had work stress, no schedules, just time together and instead of being left at each other’s throats, we’ve actually gotten closer. I have to say I don’t mind the forced lock-in. I couldn’t ask for a better plague partner.
Next results should be ready in the morning. This is round 3. We still have symptoms. All bets welcome.
The rest of you, stay well.
Shattering Fears with Karaoke
According to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America, approximately 7% of Americans suffer some degree of social anxiety. This reflects only the professionally diagnosed case and encompasses all age groups, generally taking hold during the teen years. It is important to note social anxiety is not simply shyness. It is a psychological disorder that affects the functions of daily life.
My own onset came at some point after college. During my elementary years I was an oddball but then I had an odd upbringing. I still cringe remembering some of my antics and how little I cared about them. High school, the same. I was fearless, had a large group of friends in several different circles, and was open to anything. College came and I calmed down a bit, eventually becoming quite socially isolated once I got established in my own place. I had gotten tossed out of my home at 17 and basically couch surfed and lived in a youth shelter until my first real apartment at 21.
I was ill-prepared for the world. I was terrified and beginning to realize that a single young female was vulnerable. During my transition from a sheltered life to forced independence, I was raped, I was mugged, I was in a physically abusive relationship with the guy I had my first apartment with. He quickly abandoned me (thank God). I was learning not to trust people. I began to leave my apartment less and less, at one point going three months without leaving my room except to retrieve mail and delivered groceries. I existed only online (dial-up, if you can fathom that). Loneliness took over and I tried going on a few blind dates, all of which were disasters. Nope. I was done with people.
After so much avoidance, I could no longer function around people. Even job interviews triggered panic attacks where I would sweat and stammer and make a fool of myself. I remember an incident at a job where I was tasked with giving a PowerPoint presentation on skip tracing and private investigation (I’ve had some interesting jobs). I’d compiled the presentation perfectly however when it came time to present it, I froze. Physically froze. I couldn’t move a muscle. My boss was telling me to start, to speak. My mouth opened and nothing came out. I hid my face. I looked up and the whole office was starting at me. The tears started to come and I ran into the bathroom to cry.
Fast forward to recent years and two of the closest people to me, one being my daughter, also suffer from this level of social anxiety. Whenever I am with them, I have to be the strong one. I have to do the talking. I have to make the moves they can’t, whether it’s asking for help or initiating a phone call. I’ve had to put my own issues aside to help them function with theirs. Someone forcing me to speak couldn’t break the fear but having to be the voice for someone I love certainly helped put a crack in it.
This brings me to this past weekend.
Yep, that’s my weird self. Microphone in hand, I sang my heart out at a small Karaoke party Saturday night. I never thought I’d see the day. The support I had is what made all the difference. It was a small group of very friendly people – perfect strangers and casual friends – and my daughter. She promised if I sang, she would sing with me. She put her own fears aside to coax me through mine, something I’ve been doing for her most of her life. It felt like my parenting had come full circle and I was too proud of her to let her down.
In front of a full bar, there’s no way I could have done it. But in this intimate setting, a tiny lounge in the back of a proper arcade where I know all the regulars, it was scary but not impossible. If I start small, maybe I can use this as therapy and really start to come through the anxiety that has crippled me half my life.
If you’d like to learn more about social anxiety, the following site has a wealth of information on the topic:
ADAA https://adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/social-anxiety-disorder
Daily Prompt – Don’t You Forget About Me
As you walk on by…. (Sing it with me now!)
Will you call my name? Will you remember me at all? Will I have done anything in my life that will have had an impact on anyone near to me (or far)? What will I be remembered for?
I never imagined there would be very many people at my funeral, if there was one. I’d always just hoped someone would be in my life who would be willing to dump my ashes off the side of a plane over the Everglades. On the other hand, of course it would be nice to have a finely inscribed headstone commemorating some important aspect of my life. If anything, I’d want to be remembered for the sacrifices I have made in my life to ensure that my child has more opportunities than I did (and they have been incredibly painful sacrifices). I want to go down as a Saint for work with the less fortunate – even while the majority of my life has seen me as one of those less fortunate. I want to be remembered as humble, generous, hard working, intelligent and wise, as a mother, a Christian, and hopefully one day as a beloved wife. I want my writings – poetry, lyrics, fiction and non – to be read by my family and descendants so that they may have a deeper understanding of the person I was. I’m quite forgettable in reality, but I guess in the end, I just want to be remembered with love.
Solitary Solidarity (Coping with Covid-19 Lockdown)
We Are Okay! That is first and foremost the most important thing going through my mind each day. Despite not being able to go out much, despite having to get creative for some meals at home, and despite being cooped up in a house with three other people, things are actually okay. The not going out part, heck I was made for this. I’m a painfully un-social introvert and having been raised an only child, it’s easy to entertain myself. I’m rarely bored. If I am, it’s usually only because I’m too hot and antsy (we have no AC).
I read a lot of blogs and other social media posts where people battling cabin fever try to find ways, some of them pretty outlandish, to stay sane during our nationwide lockdown. I wonder if I’m the odd one out for actually enjoying this quiet time, this alone time. It’s as if I’m sitting back watching the world burn and I will emerge from my mental cave when it all blows over. Certainly there are some things I miss. Kava Kat, a tea bar I started to enjoy going to with friends, of course had to shutter its doors during the crisis. Being a relatively new business to the area, I’m happy they survived the worst of it (so far) and were able to reopen. Some places I loved, like Uncle Carlo’s, sadly have not reopened. This city is a new landscape, sort of a bare bones one, but it will survive as a community. It’s beautiful how people have pulled together to support each other in every way possible.
Missing Seniors and the Real Estate Scam
It’s shocking how much can happen over the course of two weeks. These last two weeks in my life have been highly stressful and emotional, and it all went down with a single phone call.
The Phone Call
On Monday, June 26, 2017, I began receiving numerous phone calls and text messages from someone asking if I knew a Brenda Gibson. Not recognizing the number, I was hesitant to answer but the person kept persisting. Finally that evening, I texted the number back asking, “Who are you and what do you want?” I received an immediate reply of, “This is Zohar. Do you know Brenda Gibson?” My first thought: What the fuck is a Zohar? I replied, “That is my estranged mother.” After a pause, the phone rang, the caller ID the same number.
Upon speaking with this Zohar, he informed me that he was a real estate broker and had seen a listing of a house up for auction. The address he gave me was the house I grew up in down in Fort Lauderdale. He informed me that he was trying to locate my mother and grandmother, whose name was listed as the owner, because the house had been foreclosed and was going to auction the next morning at 10 a.m. He also said he’d interviewed the neighbors who said they hadn’t seen either of them in at least a year.
As I was trying to process all this information, he also informed me that neither party could be located and told me I had 16 hours to locate both my mother, the owner, and my mother, her power of attorney. Not only that, I had to be in Fort Lauderdale at 10 a.m. to appear in court and stop the sale so that he could buy the home, refurbish it, and re-sell it, allegedly to split the profits with my mother and grandmother. This guy immediately threw my red flags up as being an underhanded real estate shark looking to prey on the elderly.
I told him first of all, I do not live in the area so there is no way I am jeopardizing my job to take off, go out of town, and go to court on the word of someone I have never even heard of. I asked him to provide me any proof of what he was claiming and he did not provide any, only further pushing me to do the impossible within just a few hours time. This utterly pissed me off and I hung up on him, beginning my own research.
The Search
The first thing I did was to look up this person who called. All I had was a first name and a phone number, which turned up a real estate sales license to a Zohar Gazit with a home office in Hallandale, FL. The license was only issued at the end of May this year, so that was another red flag. His phone number also came back as a Google Voice number. Red flag #3. He’s also associated with a relatively new LLC called Florida State Trust LLC, Premier Mortgage Lending (as a sales person, which is where the Google Voice number answers), as well as President of Nahar Investment Corp. There are eight company associations altogether, the most recent being formed only 5 months ago.
Putting this agency/broker to the side, I then called on a friend in my grandmother’s area to help me do some research. We turned up the auction listing and other documents, including an affidavit from the foreclosing bank’s attorney in which they hired a process server to locate and serve my grandmother the foreclosure papers however the statement from December 2016 showed she could not be located and her death could not be verified. So there was one mystery. The second mystery is that my mother was afraid to leave the house and did not go out, so where could she be? I knew she was diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic, so the first place I started checking was area hospitals, none of which would confirm her presence. Next, I tried assisted living facilities, psychiatric facilities, and hospices for both women, and still came up with nothing.
After the area facilities were exhausted, I moved on to the Broward Sheriff’s Office. I received a response e-mail from them advising me to reach out to one of two contacts, which I called the next morning. To my utter shock, the Lieutenant told me he couldn’t file a missing person’s report because it had “been too long” since they were last seen. Since when does that matter? I told him these were two seniors, both mentally and physically disabled, and were MISSING since their home got foreclosed a year ago. He said all he could do was run their names through a database but he wouldn’t file a missing person’s report. I still can’t believe how uncaring he was but for my own protection, I will not give his name here.
On to some better resources I hoped, I also reached out to the Sun Sentinel and Channel 7 News, neither of which ever responded to me. I then reached out to numerous elder-centered organizations in the area and left voice mail after voice mail, as I was trying to do all this research outside my working hours, which left me very limited in actually reaching offices that were open after I got off work.
Dead Ends
I was not getting anywhere. The time for the auction had come and gone and the house was sold to the highest bidder. Along with the house, everything in it, including 60 years of family history, now belonged to a corporation who purchased it to flip it and make some quick money. I thought my dealings with Zohar were over at that point, but this was only the beginning.
Zohar placed several calls to me that day with a new plan: Find my grandmother, get a lawyer, declare the sale invalid because there was now an heir, let him buy the house, flip it, and split the profits with me. He said he was going to send me a contract of our “partnership” that I should sign and overnight to him. More deadlines, he needed this done right away. Needless to say, no contract ever showed up.
When questioned about this alleged contract, he changed his story again, saying he was going to have his associate “Richard” draw up a contract, drive it up to me, have me sign it and get it notarized, and drive it back down to him. We’re talking a 4 hour round trip and I work during the day. I thought: Who in their right mind does business like that? I told them both on the phone if you’re sending me anything, just send a PDF that can be signed electronically. Why would they go through all that trouble when e-mail is instant and secure? Another red flag. Zohar then wanted a copy of my ID to “verify my identity.” Hah – NO. Sorry, but NO. Another red flag.
Once again, no paperwork arrived. I still couldn’t get any information out of Zohar, including any attorney information or Richard’s last name or phone number. So for the third or fourth time, Zohar’s story changes and now he tells me that this Richard associate of his has secured an attorney who specializes in foreclosures and probate and that this attorney would work the case on contingency, requiring zero funds from me and that Zohar would pay for everything needed to have the house put in my name as heir and that we would not split the proceeds of the flip between Zohar, myself, and the attorney. Um…. it doesn’t work that way. Again, I was waiting for an e-mail from the attorney and again, no documents ever arrived. Are we surprised?
At this point, I’m done with Zohar and I just want to find my grandmother. I accept that the house is gone. It’s not the first time I’ve lost everything and my mother and grandmother had no way to upkeep the house anyway, as it needed too many major repairs, including electrical, plumbing, and roofing. My mother and I have never had a relationship and in her last letter to me, she blatantly told me never to contact her again (this is all over my being close to my father and their own personal issues that she cannot separate me from). So, all that remained was finding my grandmother.
The break came the next Friday morning, July 7. I received a call from the Aging and Disabled Resource Center. They were more than willing to help me and within just a few minutes, they were able to provide me with both my mother’s and my grandmother’s forwarding addresses and contact numbers. Their last known addresses showed that my mother was in assisted living in Lauderhill and my grandmother was in a nursing home in Tamarac. This is odd because it’s the first time in their lives that they’ve been separated. My friend called both places while I was at work (silently freaking out), and let me know on my next break that she was able to verify both of them at the locations given. She even provided some additional information.
I immediately called both places and asked to be put on their emergency contact lists. I then was able to speak with my grandmother by phone who, even at 89 years old and after several years, still remembered me and my daughter and wanted to see us. Heartbreakingly, she informed me she had lung cancer and had been in the nursing facility for a year. The good news is her mind is still sharp as a tack and she only has little lapses of short term memory loss now and then. Otherwise, she’s mentally good.
She also told me that people were there in her room to talk to her about the house. Now this was a real red flag. Regrettably, I’d given both their forwarding addresses to Zohar under the stretch of an idea that he actually was going to do something to reverse the sale. He knew however that my mother was my grandmother’s power of attorney and that my grandmother could not deal with any of this on her own. Within two hours of having the address, people were there in person harassing and confusing my grandmother before I’d have a chance to get down there. I sent Zohar a text and a voice mail and got no response.
The Reunion
Saturday morning, July 8, my daughter and I along with my sister in law began the two hour drive to my grandmother’s nursing home. Once we got there, she recognized us instantly and we spend 3 hours talking with her. She caught us up on what was happening with my mother, who was not there at the time, but she was unable to tell me who was in her room yesterday about the house. I hope she didn’t sign anything – she doesn’t remember.
This all goes back to Zohar because he is the ONLY other person who had her address. Currently, I am drafting a formal request to the Department of Business and Professional Regulation, Division of Real Estate with a full account of the situation, his associates, his associated companies, and his license number to be investigated and prosecuted in the attempt to defraud my elderly grandmother by bypassing her power of attorney and her heirs regarding the foreclosed home that she owned since circa 1960. I also have my own legal support system involved, so this will be done right. To date, he still has not returned any phone call, text, or e-mail but I am following this matter very closely. I vow to protect my grandmother against underhanded dealings by any means necessary.
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