Friday, August 15, 2014

How Far Does A Criminal Have To Go?




How far does a criminal have to go before their crime is met with a punishment that will bring a sense of safety and justice to the victim? This is the question I find myself asking right now. How can a knife wielding man attacking another person be considered a misdemeanor? Isn’t a knife a deadly weapon? The definition of misdemeanor is a relatively minor misdeed. When did a grown man attacking a teenager, punching him in the face, and coming at him with a knife become a relatively minor misdeed? How can anyone consider that to be the case? I know the victim doesn’t consider his attack to have been a minor misdeed. He thought the man was going to kill him! Is that what has to happen? Seriously, does a criminal have to attack and kill a person before the laws we have set up in this state classify that person as a dangerous criminal? How could that young man go to sleep feeling safe when he knew the laws set up considered his attack to be a minor misdeed? 

Yes, I’m angry! This young man was left with a swollen eye from being punched in the face, superficial wounds made by the knife on his arms and legs, and whelps on his back from being hit while CRAWLING away from his attacker. Should it matter that the knife wounds are superficial? What? Are our laws set up so that we have to have a medical doctor measure how deep a knife wound is before we consider an attack with a knife to be more than a minor misdeed? What’s the desired depth? One inch? Two inches? I’m really confused about this right now. What about the wounds that aren’t visible? Trust me, they are there. The terror inflicted upon the young man is real! Do people really have the right to attack someone and terrorize them and basically get a slap on the wrist? 

You may be wondering if this is a real situation. It is. I know the young man and his mother. You might even be thinking, Ah, well, it must’ve been some punk kid who pushed the man too far. It’s not. He is a very respectful teenage boy, one that any teacher would be proud to have in his or her class.

I felt prompted to write this last night after finding out about the situation because I was upset that his attack was considered a minor misdeed. I asked permission of the mom and will send this to her before publishing this to my blog. Something needs to be done. As a mother, I remember all too well when my daughter was in a situation that was a dangerous one. She was still considered a minor by the state we live in, but there were no laws set up to help us as parents to get her out of the situation. My daughter had gone into the situation of her own free will but ended up trapped in abuse with all outside communication with friends and family severed. She was still in high school. I felt helpless as a parent, so I understand how my friend feels right now. She feels helpless. She can’t undo the trauma her son has endured, yet she has the job of helping him to cope with the emotional distress left behind by this man. 

If the laws of Mississippi are written in a manner that allows a person who has attacked you with a knife and caused you to fear for your life to only be charged with a misdemeanor, the laws need to change! We need our congressmen to do something about this. We should be able to feel safe. We should feel that our laws not only protect us but seek justice for us as well.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Two Sides to the Coin of Depression




I was saddened to hear of Robin Williams leaving us all too soon. He brought so much laughter to us all. What has saddened me even more is reading comments that lack compassion concerning his death. 
 
I’ve seen both sides of the coin. I’ve lived in utter darkness, and I’ve lived in the light where I’ve witnessed the shadows creep into the world, those bits and pieces of darkness that intrude when something blocks or hinders the light. I’ve been that person sinking in an unforgiving sea of depression and desperation, and I can say with all honesty, the only thing a drowning person can see are the depths presently consuming them. The voices of loved ones are muffled by the same pressure crushing their lungs, making it impossible to breathe. The pain becomes unbearable, and all you want to do is make it stop. 

If you would, imagine that you are the one being sucked to the bottom of the ocean. The weight of the water is crushing your lungs. Frightening creatures swim about you, lurking and taunting you. Fear and pain have completely encapsulated you. And then the thought comes…if I could just go to sleep never to awaken again, it will all end. I will not feel my lungs implode.  I will not feel the teeth of the shark as it rips my body to shreds. All pain and all further pain will have ended. It will all simply stop. 

That is what it’s like. Some may and do consider it a selfish thing to be consumed by your own pain, but I can assure you, the person in this sort of pain is not seeking to hurt or inflict any sort of pain on another. They simply want their own pain to end. I know this because I was there at one point in my life. I was the person who just wanted it all to STOP! When I took the step to end my life, I never once thought of the pain it would inflict upon my parents or my brother or anyone else in my life that happened to love me. All I could see or feel was my own suffering, and I could not foresee any of it ever getting better. Was it selfish of me to only see the pain I was in? You may consider that to be the case, but my question in turn to you would be: do you consider a terminally ill person in excruciating physical pain to be selfish because they want their pain to end? Most people would say “No” to that question. Why? Maybe it’s because we view physical pain as real and emotional and mental pain as not real. I don’t know the answer to that question. What I do know is my pain was real to me. 

Thankfully my plans that night were unsuccessful, and things did eventually get better. It wasn’t overnight though. It took time and therapy. Then in my adult life, I ended up on the opposite side of that coin. I had learned to fight and battle the darkness from the side of the light, beating down the shadows that crept into my life. I had those to stand by my side. They helped to fight alongside me as I slayed the demon of depression. When I was injured and being sucked back into the darkness, they fought for me. They dragged my injured body back to safety and helped me to stand. 

It was nearly ten years ago when I received a phone call that my cousin had taken his life. He was like a brother to me. As children we all lived together for a two year period, so we were close. I was in shock; I was devastated, and I was able to see the pain it inflicted upon everyone who loved him. I don’t think his mother will ever fully recover. Having been on his side in the past, I was able to tell his momma that he was not trying to hurt her. Having now been on the opposite side of that coin, I was able to see the pain I would have inflicted upon those I love had I been successful all those years ago. 

It was after that incident that I decided to take my experience and my battle and create a fictional story of a girl battling depression, a girl who wanted to end her pain. I had lived on both sides. I knew what it felt like to be drowning, and I knew what it felt like to watch someone I loved end their life. I had heard the words of those not understanding depression, and I knew they needed to be able to see and experience it through the eyes of a character that could help them to feel the pain of it. Compassion comes from relating to someone else’s pain. I had also experienced the heartache and pain caused by those who think it’s cute to be a “mean girl” (or a mean guy) and bully or simply degrade others. I hoped maybe a few people who had those tendencies would read it and see the pain they actually inflict, but most of all I wanted those like my character to know that there really is hope for a better future. Things will not always be as dark as they are at that moment when you just want the voices to shut up and leave you alone. The cloud can be lifted. The darkness can be dispelled, but it doesn’t happen overnight, and you have to make an effort to reach up and grab the hand being extended to you. You have to use that helping hand as a rope and climb your way out of the pit. The hand will be there; the hand will not let go, but the hand cannot do the work on its own. You must work together with your doctor, your therapist, your loved ones, and the angels sent your way.You can do it. 

So, for those who do not understand depression, please do not attempt to tell a person battling it how to handle it. You are not equipped to do so. To those who seek to stand in judgment of those battling it, please be cautious. You may find yourself in the same position down the road, and you should really consider if you want the words you speak to be spoken to you at that point. To those of you helping a loved one to fight, I commend you. Keep it up. I assure you, you are important. To those of you who have found yourself feeling hopeless, I extend a hand of hope and words of wisdom. Please get to a doctor and make an appointment with a therapist. They will help you start swimming for the surface, and eventually you will realize you are above water and you can breathe.

Monday, March 3, 2014

The Threads of Life



"The Threads of Life"


Each and every passing day
Is beautiful for someone in some way.
As the Fates spin threads on their loom and weave,
A tapestry for the whole world to see.  
Colorful threads of people are woven through,  
As well as their emotions and nature too.

The Fates sit at the loom and pull out their threads,

Spinning their picture—over the universe they spread.  
As love like a deep-red thread is woven through,
Somewhere a young couple is saying, 'I do.'
As a thread of white intermingles and weaves a hearth, 
  the innocence and family born through a baby's birth.  
All over the world the colors blend,  
Creating a masterpiece without end.  
As the orange hues of the setting sun disappear,
Bringing the black thread of night oh, so near.  
The night full of sadness, grief, and pain,
Of things no one has the power to change.  
The yellow of the sun's rising sheds light upon the sky.
And a family somewhere on earth wakes up asking why.  
As painful as the black threads are,  
The tears they bring help to heal all scars.  
Families come together, woven tight in love,  
As the tears they shed, spin in the masterpiece a dove.
A dove of the Spirit representing all things pure and good.  
As the tapestry's threads pull in close, just as they should.

                                                                                     Schledia Benefield