A Matter of Panache

When Justice Fails the Children, UPDATE INFORMATION FOR READERS of Kristy's Story by Debra Sanders

2009-07-17T15:29:00.008-06:00

NOTE TO READERS: UPDATE INFORMATION

Before I go on with Kristy's story, I want to let reader's know of some things which have transpired in the last twenty-four hours and which may be of comfort to those of you so touched and horrified by Kristy's story.

In the state where I first worked with "K," and where I was under investigation for sexual assault of a minor, there is no statute of limitations for prosecution of felony child sexual abuse, sodomy, rape or object rape. I contacted the lead investigator in my case and shared my information with him. He, in turn, talked with the chief of police who has turned the information over to the state troopers cold case investigative unit.

I spoke with the attorney general's office directly, wanting to know if they would be the ones to whom I would turn over my evidence. They indicated that they do not receive evidence and confirmed that it is the state trooper's cold case investigation unit that collects the evidence and decides whether to investigate; and then, whether to turn it all over to the A.G.'s office for prosecution.

So, while I feel very hopeful at this moment, connecting with the cold case unit does not ensure that an investigation will take place, nor does it guarantee that the right things will happen now that they know of the case. This is, however, a start. It is a very, very solid start; and I choose to believe that when all is pared down to the bare bones, good prevails over evil and justice prevails for victims.

Several avenues could be pursued at this point and I will keep you abreast of information as it comes to me. What might happen?

The troopers could accept the information and put it at the bottom of what might be a huge list of cold cases to investigate and not give it priority since it happened so many years ago and the alleged perpetrators no longer live in that state.

The troopers could give it priority, but do a poor job of following up on the many leads and not gather the evidence needed to see it through to prosecution.

The troopers could give it priority and pursue an investigation with the kind of passion and intelligence we hope for and put together a strong case that will go to the AG's office.

Or, I suppose, they could tell me outright that nothing can happen; that they will not pursue this case.

Our job will depend on where this goes from here. We may need to do little other than wait, watch and support them in whatever way possible while they intelligently go about their investigation. On the other hand, if sloppy or no investigative work is pursued, then collectively we may need to generate the kind of outrage and pressure which will cause priority and quality attention to be given to this case.

So, keep reading the blog to find out more of Kristy's story and as I find out information regarding possible criminal investigation, I will let you know.

Thanks for you support and kindness, and most of all, thanks for your outrage and compassion. On Kristy's behalf, I thank you. Your words and responses help to lend balance to the horror of this story. There are a lot of good people in this world; you are among them.

DS

ps To find the story part of this post, scroll down past parts I-VI.

The story part of Part VII will be posted before Monday morning (July20,2009)

When Justice Fails the Children: FAQ and SYNOPSIS, Kristy's Story by Debra Sanders

2009-07-13T22:11:00.010-06:00

When Justice Fails The Children:

Quick Synopsis, clarifications and answers to FAQ

What readers have learned thus far:

1) In 1992, while working as an educational psychologist, a 13 yr. old student named Kristy (not her name at the time) came to my attention. She was extremely oversexualized, acted out in extreme and inappropriate ways and was identified as "emotionally disturbed." We connected quickly and easily and her behavior rapidly improved.

2) As she grew stronger, her parents behavior became increasingly bizarre and hostile toward me, so much so I began to fear for my safety (and I am not easily rattled). Finally, they pulled her out of school and said they were going to home school her and she effectively disappeared from the community.

3) Two years later, she resurfaces with an accusation that I sexually molested her in my office during the time we worked together and this was followed by an intense three month investigation which ended with the case being closed due to provable documentation that her claims were false.

4) Again for two years there is no sighting of her in the small community in which we lived; however in 1996 I, the police and the school district received a handwritten letter from her painfully asking for my forgiveness and stating that she was forced into making that accusation by her parents. At the time of this writing she stated they no longer lived in XXX, she was pregnant with her father's child and had been removed from the home.

5)Twelve years later, in the summer of 2008, Kristy finds me via my then-just-set-up website and tells me that she has been looking for me all these years. She tells me that she suffers tremendous challenges due to the years of extreme abuse and that she is identified with a Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), formerly known as Multiple Personality Disorder. Ten "others" in addition to herself live inside her, ranging in age from infant to forty two. Kristy herself is twenty nine, about to turn thirty.

6) The girl that I had worked with is known as K (name changed for legal liability purposes)and Kristy explains that due to intense abuse that only got worse after she was pulled out of school (she never did receive any schooling after that) K "disappeared" at the age of sixteen and that is when Kristy took over as the main "host" or personality.

7) Kristy had written a brief autobiography of her life up until the age of sixteen (actually K and Kristy wrote this together) and it is included in full in PART IV and painfully describes the details of her childhood.

8) When Kristy first contacted me last summer, she told me in a very early email that she had been working hard with a therapist and hoped to "integrate" (i.e. merge) the personalities as she wanted to prosecute her parents (whom she chose only to refer to as, "the Assholes," and not by name. At the time of this writing she had recently moved to another state and had not yet found a therapist who was experienced in DID (multiple personality disorder), but she was looking for one.

9) I explained to Kristy that because she was contemplating prosecution of the parents at some point, it was imperative that all, that every bit, of our communication be in writing. This was for her protection as well as mine so that in no way could her testimony be discredited by the parents stating that I had coerced her into making these accusations in retaliation for what occurred fifteen years earlier. For this reason, all of our conversations took place either through emails and/or through Instant Messages.

10) I have, now locked away in an attorney's office, several hundred pages of her written testimony and feelings about the pastor and his wife who adopted her at age four and proceeded to ritualistically, systematically and continuously rape, beat, isolate and intimidate her.

11) Part VI of the story ended with the emergence of the personality I am referring to as S, who has commanded me to stop corrupting K and Kristy, stating that they need to learn to obey and honor thy father and thy mother.

Answers to the most frequently asked questions to date:

Q:
I don't get the multiple personality thing. I mean, did she live alone? Was she able to ever work or take care of herself? I am confused, is K the same person as Kristy or are they two different personalities/people?

A:

Dissociative Identity Disorder is a complicated and elaborate defense system that is occasionally developed in very intelligent individuals who have been subjected to ongoing and extreme abuse. While it differs from person to person, it seems that a common thread is that there is an "inner system" that has been established. In some people they are not aware of the others (sometimes called Alters). In Kristy's case, there is a levels system which is about to be explained in the next part of the story.

Prior to moving to the state in which she was currently living, Kristy had worked two jobs--one at Walmart and one at a brain and spine rehabilitation facility. Over the years she had lived both alone and with a partner--a woman she was still very close friends with, but no longer involved with in a romantic way.

Kristy's stability and ability to manage this disorder varied greatly, and was highly dependent upon her having ongoing therapy with a skilled clinician. Because she had no such therapist in her current living location, she was in and out of the hospital due to severe self injury issues. There were some of the personalities which were very punitive and Kristy's body bore not only the scars of her parents abuse, but the scars of her own. The picture you see on the video is of a self-inflicted burn on her arm.

The next chapter will identify her various personalities and the system within which they functioned. One thing I will say here, that no doubt I will repeat with frequency, is that while Kristy most definitely suffered from a mental illness, in no way was she crazy.

As you will come to see, there is a stunning difference between someone being crazy and incapable of functional living, thought and patterns of thinking and acting and someone having to manage an emotional disorder that challenges the way they live, but does not necessarily mean living a relatively normal life is an impossibility.

Q:

How come all those teachers just disappeared? Why didn't anyone help her?

A:

Well, I can't answer this question definitively, but I can make some educated guesses. These were very, very intimidating people who seemed used to getting their way. The reason, Kristy wrote me, they hated me so much was because I was the first person they could not intimidate-- that would not capitulate to their demands, and who stood strong as an advocate for her. I can certainly see how each time a teacher started getting close to Kristy, how these parents might raise threatening issues and demand that she be removed from that class and placed in another one--one with a less compassionate or less personally involved teacher. In Kristy's words, they referred to me as a "nosy c..t that they were not about to let land them in jail."

Another important thing to keep in mind is that all of us over the years--all the teachers, the psychologists, the principals--all of us had been introduced to the children of this family as children that the pastor and his wife had rescued out of a ritualistically sexually abusing cult situation and told that this is why not just Kristy, but all the children, were so disturbed. We had no reason whatsoever to question this. These cults exist; as educators and psychologists, we knew this (much as we preferred to wish otherwise). That Kristy would be terribly damaged from having been raised her first four years in such a setting seemed a reasonable explanation.

Even though I so strongly suspected that she was being abused in the pastor's home, it never once occurred to me that they in fact, might be the ritual abusers and that the kids had not come out of that situation, but rather had been adopted into it. It wasn't until I started hearing the rest of the story (beginning last summer) that this hit me.

I do have many questions myself as to why she was not removed from the home prior to the age of 17 (as did she), however, only a competent and very thorough investigative reporter will be able to unravel that part of the story. I have all the names, dates and places of the various teachers, social workers, psychologists, mental health workers, etc that filtered through Kristy's life. It will take an investigative reporter who has a passion for the truth and for justice to do the digging and the interviewing and the questioning that needs to be done to really understand how it is that this child remained in the home and the parents remained untouched by the law.

When Justice Fails the Children: Kristy's Story by Debra Sanders PART I

2009-06-17T20:12:00.005-06:00

PART I

Let me tell you the story of Kristy, the girl who called me "mom". This is a painful story, but it is a story that must be told because it is a story that needs to be heard.

I can't tell you the story in one sitting--it's too complicated for that. But stick with me and you will get the basic story. And as you follow this story, I hope you will write me your thoughts. I would like to hear what you have to say. I would like to hear your opinions and your suggestions. If nothing else, I would like to hear your outrage.

Kristy would have been thirty-one this September. That she lived even this long is testament to the power of the spirit, the creative intelligence of the mind and what surely must have been her deeply innate will to survive. I say this because the abuse rained upon her in her lifetime would have killed most people a thousand times over; and the repeated failure of the justice system to protect her would have crushed most of our spirits long before we even hit puberty. Not so for Kristy.

At least not before now.

The middle of six children, at the age of four, Kristy—along with at least four and possibly all five of her siblings—was adopted into the home of The pastor and his wife. Kristy’s life intersected with mine nine years later when she was an out of control, over-sexualized, clearly disturbed but incredibly enchanting thirteen-year-old and I was the school psychologist in her middle school. As you read this story, I imagine you, like me, will find it hard to believe that there is not some Universal or heavenly hand involved in the intersecting of our lives.

Kristy, who was not called Kristy back then, and I easily established a powerful working relationship. Her behavior was getting under control and her relationship with me was quickly building into a trusting and effective partnership. Oddly enough, the stronger Kristy got, the stranger her parents appeared. Their behavior was so odd and disconcerting in fact, that I talked with both my principal and the district superintendent about some concerns I had for my own safety. The pastor and his wife subtly, but clearly, expressed a nearly palpable hatred toward me, which no one understood (least of all me) since Kristy was making progress and adored me.I wanted it on the record that I felt inexplicably threatened--that is how terribly strange their behavior was toward me.

The pastor and his wife told school personnel that they had rescued these children from a satanic cult which had ritualistically, sexually abused all of them and this is why they were so disturbed, especially Kristy. The oldest boy was so damaged--we were told--that he was institutionalized, where he would probably remain for the rest of his life. The good pastor and his wife placed all the children in counseling, but oddly enough, each with a different clinician and each given a clear directive that we were not to communicate with one another. Ever. Neither the pastor nor his wife would, no matter which clinician requested it, sign a release of information so that we could confer with one another about these very complicated children.

A not terribly long period of time passed and the pastor and his wife told the building principal that I looked like the birth mother of these children and was triggering Kristy who, though greatly improving in her school behavior, would get home and go completely and ballistically out of control.For this reason, they explained to the principal, they were pulling Kristy out of my counseling program and would no longer allow her to spend time in my office or talk with me.

Kristy had been instructed not to talk with me at all in school, and she was an obedient, but resourceful child so she started writing me letters and slipping them under my door. I saw no reason not to respond in kind and so although she never came to my office again and we never again had direct contact, we did exchange several letters. Sadly,the pastor and his wife discovered the letters and they pulled her out of school entirely.

“She’s too disturbed,” they told the principal. “We are going to home school her.”

For two and a half years, I never heard mention of Kristy, though I often worried for her. I had been quite sure she was getting very close to the point of disclosing important information to me when she was whisked away and as far as anyone could ascertain, hidden from view. It was a small town, not even 3000 people, yet she was never seen anywhere.

Then, one evening more than two years later (1994), I was called into the police station interrogation room and informed that this girl, Kristy, had made an accusation that I had sexually molested her in my office when we were working together. Although my head reeled and my stomach rebelled with flashing images of my ruined career, all I could think of then (and later) was, "Dear God, what have they been doing to her all this time to make her say such a terrible, terrible thing?"

TBC. Read of the letter Kristy wrote me, two years after the accusation, when she turned eighteen, explaining it and asking for my forgiveness.

When Justice Fails the Children, PART II, Kristy's Story by Debra Sanders

2009-06-16T19:04:00.002-06:00

Part II
Kristy's Story: When Justice Fails the Children

The investigation into the allegation took place over a three month period of time, during which I agonized over what surely must be happening to Kristy, secreted away in her parent’s home, and stressed over what was happening to me as the investigation lingered on.

I am eternally grateful to the detectives and police involved. They could have leaked information to the press and innocent or not, my career would have been history. They did not do this however, and although I was cautioned to discuss the accusation with absolutely no one (except an attorney), life went on in a sort of normal fashion. True, I was not sleeping well, weight was dropping off rapidly and every time I heard a siren, my knees would buckle in anticipation that I was minutes away from an imminent arrest. But I continued to work, enjoy friends and family and carry on with daily chores, while always wondering to myself, “What has been happening to that girl that would result in her making such an accusation?”

I had secured a criminal attorney and because Kristy had identified scarring on my breasts, I went to a plastic surgeon, was photographed and a letter was written attesting to the fact that I had no scarring or other marks. She had also said that I made two boys watch, and she apparently described the boys in detail to the investigators. When these things proved false, the case was dismissed and closed. I always figured that Kristy’s details were her small way of protecting me.

The police never provided any details of their investigation to me. I did not know how they investigated, what they uncovered or what they thought. All I could hope was that the investigation would somehow uncover the abuse I had always been sure was being perpetrated in the home and that something good would come of the whole ordeal for Kristy. But I never knew one way or the other.

In 1996, my father was diagnosed with cancer and I found myself flying between his home and mine as I helped him navigate the terrain of chemotherapy and radiation. I was no longer working for the school district, at that time I had my own intervention practice, so I would go to my dad’s for two weeks, return home and work for three and make the return trip to Colorado while my dad received ever increasing amounts of the toxic chemicals and burning rays we were hoping would save his life.

It had been two years since the case had closed and never once during those years did I hear about or see Kristy. I remember saying to a friend, “I swear to God, one day when that girl is about thirty, she will track me down and tell me the story.”

Kristy didn’t wait until she was thirty to contact me—she waited until she was eighteen and out of the home in a psychiatric hospital, where her pregnancy was revealed.

Her letter arrived while I was at my dad’s, It was dated 10/31/96 and in part, here is what it said:

“Dear Ms. Sanders, I hope you read this and will forgive me in the end....there's times I wish I would of died instead of hurting you. When my parents told me to say that about you, I never thought I would but they had a lot of control...Well daddy kept up raping me and now I'm pregnant....I no longer live at home so they have no control over me anymore... I wish I could make things better for you..."

My heart ached to read those words. Did they pressure her all that time to make such an accusation? What transpired in that home in the four years since I had last seen her? What would become of this child? What would become of this child that was going to give birth to a child? I shuddered to imagine answers to those questions.

I wrote Kristy back a very loving letter, although I did not ask any of these questions. I wanted to communicate to her that I never, ever blamed her; never for a moment had believed she had made the accusation for any reason other than she was forced to; and that I was never, ever angry with her. I wanted her to know I cared about her, believed in her and that whatever had gone on in those intervening years, they were in her history now and I believed in her ability to move forward, to survive and to heal. But I did not, at that time, want to engage in an ongoing letter writing relationship and so, I did not put a return address on the envelope, knowing it would be postmarked Colorado.

TBC. Read and find out how Kristy found me--after looking for twelve years--and what I learned about the truth of her life as a child, a teenager and a young adult.

When Justice Fails the Children: PART III, Kristy's story by Debra Sanders

2009-06-15T11:35:00.001-06:00

Part III:When Justice Fails the Children
Kristy's Story by Debra Sanders

It had been a long time since I had told the story of Kristy and of her impact on me personally as well as professionally. Only when someone was involved in my life in a very intimate way did I find myself talking of those years—of my anguish when Kristy was hidden away, my fear for what was happening behind the closed doors of her house and of the incredible sense of powerlessness I felt at not being able to do anything to help her when every fiber in me screamed that I, and the system, were failing her. Only when someone had entered into the most sacred and trusting of relationships with me, did I talk about Kristy or reveal the extreme shock and anxiety that came with being investigated for the very crime I railed against on behalf of the children I saw every day.

And only once did I ever tell the story publicly. Though I hadn’t planned to reveal my experience with Kristy, I found myself telling my story of being investigated to an audience of over three hundred teachers who were attending an inservice I was giving on the teacher’s role and responsibilities with suspected child abuse cases. There had been a comment from a participant regarding the fact that as teachers and educators we really shouldn’t be hugging children anymore and I found myself telling the story of being investigated, of the fear and the anxiety it caused and of my concern throughout the entire ordeal that there was a girl being abused behind closed doors and I was helpless to do anything to help her. The audience was spell bound…riveted into silence by my descriptions of this incredibly bright, sparkling and yet damaged child. I distinctly remember ending with this:

“I tell you this story, the first time I have ever told it publicly, for a reason. Two reasons actually. First, I want you to know that this sort of thing could happen to you…it happened to me and yes, it could happen to you. But secondly, and more importantly, I tell it because I want you to know I still hug children in school and I always will. Children are affectionate by nature and they hug those that they love. If we are doing our jobs as we should be, then our students often associate their love of learning with us. And often the most vulnerable children love us simply because we are kind to them, because we do not abuse them. And they hug us, sometimes they even cling to us.

I, for one, will always return that hug and I will continue to place my hand on a child’s shoulder if it is appropriate to do so for reasons of control or gaining a child’s attention. And if a young child takes my hand on the playground, I will happily let that little hand rest inside of mine. I will never let the fear of a false accusation interfere with my providing treatment, education or kindness to a child and especially for those of you who work with elementary aged children; hugs are one of the ways that children communicate.

That said, I will tell you that I do some things differently now, and I take precautions and preventative steps that I would have never thought to take prior to this happening to me. For one, I will never again agree to work in an office that does not have a window in the door, nor will I cover the window if there is one. I will make sure that if I am seeing a child alone that the time spent together is well documented; and if I have a particularly high risk student like this again, I might consider videotaping all the sessions. I would advise that as teachers you think about what precautions you can take as well, but I urge you to please, not make one of them the removal of physical affection to the children under our care. We didn’t enter into our jobs in education only to educate the minds of our students, but to embrace all aspects of them and to help them learn to trust in and navigate their way through the world. Sometimes, more than any lesson, conversation or lecture, a hug is the most powerful tool we have to give.”

And indeed, for the next decade (plus) of my career, I continued to give and receive hugs from students without hesitation and without regret. I never told the story publicly again, and as I said, though Kristy remained actively alive in my thoughts, I rarely spoke of her, though I was frequently known to tell many funny and tender stories of my many other students over the years (without violating confidentiality of course).

It had been years since I had told the story of Kristy either privately or publicly, but for some reason last summer, I told the story to Merrilyne—the one who calls me OM or OMmie, for Other Mother. I don’t even remember right now what prompted me to tell it, but I did—it was the night before she left to head back to graduate school in Montana.

To my utter astonishment, two days later, the following email shows up in my mailbox:

"I realize you might not want to have any contact with me, but I just wanted to write and thank you for all the help you gave me. I miss you. Love, Kristy"

To say I was stunned is a significant understatement. I was absolutely blown away. I mean, how strange is that timing? I speak of her for the first time in probably ten years and within 48 hours I have an email from her. Not write her back? Unthinkable. Of course I wrote her back.

And thus began what grew into one of the most remarkable, purest, most incredible relationships I am ever likely to have on this earth.And indeed, when she wrote this time, Kristy was about to turn thirty and she wanted to tell me the rest of the story.

TBC. Read on to find out some of the things Kristy told me. Of the torture she endured in order not to make that accusation, the child she became pregnant with and was forced to "throw in a landfill," and the multiple personalities she developed to cope with such extreme abuse.

When Justice Fails the Children: PART IV, Kristy's story by Debra Sanders

2009-06-14T21:11:00.004-06:00

When Justice Fails the Children: Kristy’s story
Part IV

At the time that I received Kristy’s first email, I had not been a practicing educational psychologist for several years. Officially, “retired” due to the head injury and its ongoing ramifications, the final version of Panache was just heading into print, with a scheduled release date of November 18, 2008. My world had become a quiet one, with pecked out words as my companions and the daunting task of having to learn the business end of writing a book, despite the fact that remembering any new information seemed a monumental,and quite possibly impossible, task.

About a week before I heard from Kristy, my website went up and although there are many Debra Sanders out there, this time when Kristy performed what I was to learn was her ongoing search for me, the http://debrasanders.com website was the first to pop up on Google. Clicking on the link, the first thing Kristy saw was my picture and she realized, “Oh my God, I found her. I really, really found her.”

And so, through the contact me box on my website, Kristy sent that initial communication and at 3:17 in the afternoon on August 24,2008 I responded with this:

"Kristy, all I can say is that for the first time in several years, I spoke about you two nights ago...That you would out write me out of the blue less than 48 hours later, is simply astounding to me. Please write and tell me how you are, where you are.
Debra

Kristy’s response, composed as rapidly as I had written mine, told me she was living in XXX, having moved there from XXX a few months prior. "The hardest part of living there", she said, was that she was "in a very rural area and there were no therapists who specialized in dissociative disorders". She went on to say, “I still have a LOT of problems cause of the abuse. I am diagnosed with DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) and I have 11 different parts.” Kristy went on to explain that in the last state in which she had lived, she had an excellent therapist and had been functioning well enough to hold down two part time jobs—one at Wal-Mart, the other as an aide in a head and spinal rehabilitation center.

I found it almost as surprising that she had been working in the area of head injuries as I found the simple reality of having been contacted by her.

As is common when two people reconnect with an interim of fifteen years between contacts, there was an initial flurry of emails, with Kristy filling me in on some basic aspects of her life. She did not know what state her parents were in, refused to refer to them by name, but rather simply called them the “A**holes;” and she had gotten her GED at nineteen. “How I did it I I have no clue since I left *** middle I never did any school after that. During that time the abuse got worse since there was no school to escape to and that's when K.left being the core part.”

Kristy went on to explain that no therapist had ever been able to help her integrate (merge her independent parts) because K. had not resurfaced since disappearing fifteen years earlier. One of the reasons they had been looking for me for so long, Kristy explained, is that she thought maybe K would emerge in order to talk to me and if they could stabilize their mental health, she was thinking about prosecuting her parents for the abuse she had endured.

“I told K.I found you since she mentoned you a lot when we were younger and I knew you too since I watched her but she seemed scarred maybe you and her can work stuff out. But its up to you.
I want to get her your book do you think that's a good idea?”

Almost immediately, I received an email from K:

“Ms Sanders its K. are you mad at me for being a bad girl? i sorry i was bad when you knew me. i only did what daddy an mommy told me to do. They were so bad to me i sorry i didn't tell you what they all did to me i wanted to but i was afraid to i knew it would never stop. i miss your letters you wrote me in school even though mommy always found them i tryed to hide them but when you have to strip as soon as you get home she'd find them. i hope you dont mind i told kristy about you. i dont want to be out in this world anymore i like being safe inside. you will like kristy shes not like me shes brave. after i left school daddy moved into my room and he became my husban he told me noone would ever protect me so i better not tell another person. mommy became meaner to and she started hurting me too. i cryed for you when they were not around which was very seldom and then id go inside and cry to kristy i couldnt keep doing it so kristy took over. i wanted you to save me but i knew you never would why would you when i was so bad. kristy told me she found you and it scared me cause how could you still like me after what i did. i protected mommy and daddy instead of you and you never hurt me they did. did you ever know how bad it was for me i remember you tryed to get me to tell you before mommy got in the way then you tryed to get me to write it to you. i couldnt i hope you know why. although i wanted to so bad i dreamed of telling you and you saving me but id wake up with daddy having sex with me so i knew i could never tell. im going to go back inside please dont tell mommy and daddy i wrote to you”

I received this email at noon, August 25, 2008—not quite twenty-four hours after the first contact.

OMG, I thought. Holy, holy shit. Is this for real? Clearly, I need to establish parameters.

Whoa….wow.

Now my head was really spinning.

TBC. Read on to find out what else K and Kristy wrote and how I established a non-therapeutic relationship with her, while wrestling in my head with the ethics of continuing written correspondence.

When Justice Fails the Children, PART V, Kristy's Story by Debra Sanders

2009-06-13T05:46:00.002-06:00

When Justice Fails the Children—Kristy’s story
Part V

After K. wrote her email to me, I quickly clarified with Kristy that in no way could I be their counselor or therapist…to do so would not only be unethical, but illegal, as I was only licensed to work with school children through the age of twenty-one. I did tell her that I could be a supportive friend, but that if she thought there was even a remote possibility that she might someday press charges against her parents, then every single bit of our communication must be in writing. She must never, ever call me and I would not call her. We could use Instant Messenger or email, only. Later I would amend that to include text messages, which--if needed for documentation purposes--could be retrieved.

Initially this parameter was a bit difficult for Kristy to understand, until I explained it in these words:

"Kristy, I will never offer an opinion as to whether or not you should pursue charges, although I can assure you that I will support you in whatever decision you make. I think it would make sense to make that decision while working with a qualified therapist, once you find one. And here’s the thing…I know your parents well enough to know that if you press charges and they discover you have had contact with me, they will do two things in a courtroom. One, their attorney will first discredit your testimony by making you out to look completely and totally unreliable as a witness, due to the dissociative nature of your disorder; and two, they will try to convince a jury that I coerced you into pressing charges in retaliation for what happened fifteen years ago. So, as long as the idea rests in your mind that you might move forward with this, please know that it is for your protection that I am setting this parameter. As long as every single contact between us is documented, I will not worry about our having ongoing communication. It really is to protect us both." (august 25, 2008 email)

This Kristy understood, although even with all communication archived, she never stopped fearing that The Good Pastor and his Wife would somehow know we were in touch and harm me in some awful way.

“Kristy. Listen to me. I am not afraid of them. They have no power or control over either of us. First of all, you are an adult and they cannot hold you hostage ever again. And I am an adult, Kristy, and I no longer even work in schools—I am a writer, for God’s sake (or trying to work toward being one!) There is nothing they can do to harm my reputation or cause me pain. So that is one worry you can let go of, ok?”

Throughout all the months of our daily correspondence, that was one fear Kristy never completely released. Always, in her mind, these people held some sort of supernatural power that would allow them to find me and when they did, they would kill me. While, as I mentioned in an earlier section, fifteen years ago as the educational psychologist involved, I did indeed feel an inexplicable concern that The good pastor and his wife might cause me harm, I have to admit that when I read how accurately I had called that, it had a shocking, unnerving effect on my system. Shocking, yes, I wrote to Kristy, But that still did not mean I was afraid of them.

Kristy began telling me her history in two ways. One was through her emails and our instant messaging conversations, of which there are some one thousand pages archived. The other was through a book she told me she had started writing—her life story. Did I want to read it, she wondered?

“If you would like to share it, Kristy, then I would like to read it.”

So here is Kristy’s story (up to the age of 16), in her words and exactly as it was emailed to me.

***Prior to reading this, please be aware that it contains very graphic material and language. If you are easily triggered when reading reports of abuse, or if you are uncomfortable with reading graphic detail as offered in the first person, please do not expose yourself to the following reprint. As with all directly quoted material, no changes have been made to Kristy’s words, spelling or punctuation. With the exception of keeping my name as it is reads in the text, all other teacher and educator’s names and identifying information have been changed.***

“The Begining Early Childhood

I was only 4 almost 5 when my dad started raping me. I went by his room and the door was open he had just gotten out of the shower and was naked. Being a curious kid I asked him what the thing between his legs was and he asked me if I wanted to touch it. I walked over to him and touched it then he asked if I wanted him to show me what it was used for. I was very curious and really wanted to know so I said yes. He took me to my room layed me on the bed and told me to watch daddy make it big. Daddy stated playing with it and it did get bigger I laughed thinking it was so funny how it could do that. Then daddy asked me to kiss it I thought that was kinda funny too but I did it and daddy said it made him feel real good but he'd feel even better if I put it in my mouth. He told me every girl does that with their daddy so I did. It was way to big to fit in my mouth and it hurt my thoat but daddy just told me to relax and breath though my nose. Daddy rubbed my head and told me what a good girl I was and I was so happy my daddy loved me. Then daddy said you want to know what else I can do with "our toy" and I was so excited to be able to play more I said yes. Daddy told me to talk off my clothes and lay down so I did and then he put our toy between my legs and rubbed it their and it tickled so I laughed but soon it started hurting daddy told me it only hurts the first time and to relax again but I couldn't relax it hurt so bad when he was done I saw the blood and I wondered why our toy would hurt me like that. I tried to get up but couldn't daddy just walked out. Mom came in later and sceamed at me for being a bad girl and making such a mess she put me in a really hot bath and washed in between my legs really hard. I told her it hurt and she hit me and told me good.

After that mom would hit me a lot and dad would touch me and have me touch him. One day I crawled into bed with them in the morning and both mom and dad played with my privite area. When I was 5 mom hit me with a cast iron skillet and broke open my head the first of many stitches to the head I would recieve while living with them.

School Age

I first went to a school called XXX at 5 since after the rape I stopped walking. Noone could figure out what was wrong with me at first they said mentally retarted then they agreed I was just distrubed. I learned how to walk again while I was there and my behavor was normal so the next year I went to public school to kindergarden. That is were I met my first angel Ms W. She was a very nice teacher who cared deeply about me. I still would wet my pants so she always had a another set of clothes so I didn't have to go home everyday. One day I was in the bathroom while the other kids were at recess and Ms W didn't know I was in there and she walked in she saw the blood in my underware and just scooped me up pulled up my pants and held me on her lap. She never said anything just held me. I loved that teacher she was kind and gentle. The next week I was told she would no longer be my teacher that Ms J was my new teacher. Ms J never took any inserst in me and sent me home every time I wet my pants. I saw Ms W outside but she would never talk to me. The last day of school Ms W gave me one more hug and told me someday things will get better.

My first grade teacher was an older old fashon teacher named Ms T. She still paddled kids for misbehaving and I got it a lot. I took the blame for other kids and I never sat still. One day I spilt glue on the floor so Ms T sent me to Ms H the principal who called my dad. Dad came and gave me a spanking and I threw a tantrum I torn up every paper I could find and fell on the floor screaming. How could they not see what was a normal spanking would turn into a beating when I got home.

My second grade teacher was Ms S. She knew I had issuses and put my desk in the cornor away from the other kids. I was pretty quiet that year and just fell into myself. Kids teased me constantly because I smelled for I hardly bathed since the soap stung so bad on my wounds. That year I started special education classes and met my 2nd angel Ms P. Ms P was a younger teacher who really liked me she started washing my hair so I would look better. Of course when it was time to go home I put dirt in my hair afraid mom and dad would get upset and Ms P would leave. I saw here all the way though 4th grade till we moved and it was so hard to leave her.

My 3rd grade teacher was Ms R. She was like Ms S never took an instrest in me unless I was caught. I started stealing food from kids lunches for I was always so hungry and mom and dad would "forget" to make me a lunch. I also couldn't do homework at home so I would errase kids names off their work and put mine on it. When I got into trouble instead of going to the principal I was sent to Ms H who would then give me a talk and send me back.

My 4th grade teacher was my 3rd angel Ms L. She was very kind and took a special instrest in me. She made kids be nice to me and I felt smart in her class. She let me do homework wile the other kids went to recess and I got my first A in her class. One day while we were alone there was a pumkin on her desk and I was playing with it and by accident I broke the stem off I was certain she would hit me for that and she just said accidents happen and she glued it back on. I never got to finish the year with her as we moved to X but she gave me a book and so did Ms P. Ms P gave me Where the Side Walk Ends by Shel Siverstein and I treasured that book till mom took it and burned it.

I finshed out 4th grade in 2 different schools. First the church school that my dad was the pastor at but I never did my work and I was still stealing food. Now thats not ok for a pastors daughter to do so mom and dad took me out and sent me back to public school. I spent my last few weeks in that class.

My 5th grade teacher was Ms C she was to retire at the end of the school year and she didn't like me at all. Things were real bad at home that year I came to school with black eyes a broken colar bone and my nose broken. The resource teacher my 4th angel Ms C asked me if my mom and dad did this to me. I just nodded my head yes after school I heard my mom yelling at Ms C and Ms C saying she would turn them in. After that day I wasn't allowed to see Ms C anymore. I don't believe she ever turned in my mom and dad though.

The next year I was moved to a new school district. My 6th grade teacher was Ms B. Ms B tried to take a instrest in me but I started drugs and alcohol. I would ditch school every chance I had. Now where we lived was a upscale nice area but just a few miles away was getto. I would run there and hang out with some pretty tough kids. It a wonder I wasn't killed or kidnapped. Ms B tryed to get me to stay in school by having me hang up the flag at school in the morning. She told me how that is an honor and a privilidge and if I didnt do it the flag would not go up. That year the flag was hardly hung. The class was going on a camping trip and I almost didnt get to go because I ditched so many days but Ms B decided to let me in the end. I hated it while I was there nights were hard wondering how the other girls could sleep didnt they miss having sex with there dads? The 3rd day I acted out enough to get sent home. Ms B called my parents and then we had a talk. She asked me if everything was ok at home and if I was ever afraid? That really ticked me off how could she ask that doesn't she know what happens to people who get invovled with my family life. I started screaming at her and throwing things I got so worked up I wet my pants. She just sat there never got mad never told me to stop just sat there with a look of concern on her face. The next monday I went to school and saw her in a new light I started staying in school and working hard. Then the news broke we were moving again this time to YY. Once again loosing a teacher who cared. I finshed out 1 month of the school year in a class in YY. They also had a camping trip I went on but this time I was well behaved.

7th grade was very new to me you had several teachers and only for 1 and a half hours. That is were I met my 5th angel Ms G. She was a guidance counselor who didn't even have me for my name ended in T and she only had A-M but she took a special instrest in me. Home life was hard my sister was removed and made a ward of the state. That sister and I had gotten really close as we were my dads favorits. When she left things got bad at home the beating worse and the rapes more often. I was put into a class for emotionally distrubed kids. A half day class where we were always away from the other kids. I went home on the small bus. A lot of times I would hide from the bus hid in the bushes and when school got out I'd get on the big bus and go home. Any time I could spare a few hours from the home I would do it. Ms G started getting me from class and waiting with me for the bus. When she wasn't on time she would find me and take me home herself. One day she kept me at school and took me to the nurses office we sat on the cots for hours and she said if I needed to tell her anything I could. I told her what happened to Stephanie wanting to tell her what was happing to me but I couldn't find the words. She had me start seeing the school pyscholgist Mr H. One day I had had enough had to much I started running though the school looking for Ms G she was in a classroom in a meeting and she wouldnt talk to me. I slammed the door several times and then ran though the school the called the police and the paramedics and I ran outside. The paramedics finally got me and they took me to the hospital and checked to see if I was high on drugs. I was never allowed back at that school they sent work home for me to do and then it was sent back. I wish I would of trusted Ms G enough to tell her what was going on.

8th grade I changed school districts again and met my 6th angel. She is the one who truley believed and got involved. She never lost faith in me and always loved me no matter what she went though to try and save me. Her name is Ms Sanders. She was the school psychologist who saw me regurally until she was ordered to stop. However she wouldn't stop she knew in her heart I needed her so we wrote back and forth. I could ask her anything and she always had an answer. This was a lady who wasn't afraid of mom and dad and wouldn't leave me. I believed in my heart she would always be there I would have dreams that I would finally be saved and I'd live with her. I didn't know much about her just that she was kind. Her office was small and safe. Sometime we would just sit there and just look at each other we didn't need to talk we just need to see each other. I asked her once if she wanted to have sex with me she could and she didnt get mad she didn't say ok she just told me adults don't have sex with kids. Just when I was about to tell her what was happening we had to stop seeing each other and then she gave me my first letter. I might of wrote first I don't remember but I remember getting her letters. I don't remember what they said I just remember thinking this lady isn't going to leave me. Mom and dad hated her like no other she wasn't going to run scared from them and they had never seen that before. They told me that she would pay they told me that they would kill her. One day in school I had enough again I don't remember what triggered it but I wanted to die. I went into the bathroom and cut my wrist a janitor came in saw me and told the guidance counsolor Ms L who got me and called mom and dad I was sent to the first of many pyschatric hospital. A month later when I got out I wanted to go back to school and tell Ms Sanders all about it but I was told the school didn't want me back. Another angel lost. I never did go back to school after that mom and dad said I was in home school but they couldn't make me do the work. Mom did it for me a once D and F student I was now getting all A's.

Adolecence

After the hospitalization ending up at home 24/7 was pure hell. My dad moved into my room and there was no time I was safe. My brother was coming of age to where sex instrest him and he started in on me. The word no was never allowed in that house so I never even tried to stop him. I never blamed him as it was something he was taught from an early age that it was ok to use women and girls anyway he wanted. I looked at him as a victim too.

I still thought about my angels often more so my 6th angel. I was told every day that she would suffer and I believed that one day dad and mom would kill her. However I couldn’t get her out of my mind was she thinking about me too? Did she have any clue what I was going though? Did she even care? Why couldn’t I let her go? Every night we had to pray to dad for he told us he was a part of god. I was very afraid of him for that and I just knew it had to be true. He could tell me how I was feeling before I even said anything since god told him. One night I got tired of praying to him and I prayed to my angel Ms Sanders. I asked her to help me I knew what I was doing and the results it would cause but I hoped she would come in and save me. The results were painful I was tied down to the bed legs spred I was already naked by that time clothes were not allowed and my privites, breast and stomic were beat with a belt. When dad was done hitting me he raped me once again. Later that night I guess an hour later maybe two the kids and mom were made to come in with a rope in all their hands and they also took turns hitting the same spots. My angel Ms Sanders never came maybe she just didn’t hear my plea. That went on for about a month till I gave up she never came I never saw her she forgot about me.

Dad decided exactly how Ms Sanders could suffer he would make me tell a lie about her that even to this day I have never forgivin myself for. He told me I was to tell the school Ms Sanders molested me. Later he decided the school wouldn’t do anything so he said we would go to the State Troopers office. I was locked in the bathroom givin pencil and paper and told I could come out when I had written what she had done to me. Day one nothing writtin. I was let out of the bathroom to get beat and raped and put back in. Day three nothing written. That went on for 1 week 2 days. Mean while when someone had to go to the bathroom I had to get into the shower so that they could go on me as a punishment. I dared not turn on the water for fear they would hear that and they never told me I could so I knew better. I drank water out of the toilet and was forced to eat feeces. By one week 2 days I smelled so awful I was getting sick a lot. So I wrote Ms Sanders made me have sex with her. I cryed the whole time I wrote it knowing that crying could cause a beating but I was to worn down to care. I just wanted it to stop. That was good enough for dad he let me take a nice long shower let me have two pieces of bread and I got to sleep in the bed again.

At that time I was seeing a psychiatrist named Dr M. She was nice but I never trusted her. Before I went into her office mom would go in and when I was done mom would go in again. I knew nothing was kept from my mom so I told Dr M everything my mom wanted me too. The letter was taken to Dr M and she believed it right away. Every week I would have to come up with more lies to tell Dr M to satisfy mom. I started telling her things mom did to me just using Ms Sanders name instead of mom. I started feeling good about telling finally someone was lisenting to what was happening what was the harm saying Ms Sanders instead of mom I could tell my story and not have to go though more than I already was. The more I told the less the beatings got.

I thought it wouldn’t hurt anyone till I was told it was time to go to the State Troopers Dr M told mom she felt I was ready. No I screamed don’t make me do that what if they don’t believe me hoping and praying they wouldn’t. I had said the no word and after it fell out of my mouth I knew I was in for it but I just couldn’t go to the police. Once again a beating and I was locked in the bathroom. The beating was so bad I didn’t have to go to the police so I kept that up for 3 months. Finally there was no warning this time mom just took me. I didn’t have a chance to say no. The office was small there was a desk and a chair next to it. I saw the window and knew from tv it was a two sided window which ment mom could be watching me. The state trooper was neither kind nor mean just to the point. “ So Debra Sanders molested you”? “How did it start”? “What was she wearing”? “What were you wearing”? “ Did you notice any idinifying marks on her body”? “Scars Tattoos”? “ What color was her pubic hair”? “Was anyone else involved”? “Did you say no”? Questions just thrown out and I couldn’t answer them I sat there in silence. It lasted for two hours till the trooper told mom I did well and needed to come back again for more questioning. He said most kids don’t open up the first time. Now we knew the questions they would ask I was made to go over and over the questions with suitable answers. We went back a month later and I answered the questions. “She was wearing a dress can’t remember the color”. “I was wearing jeans and a shirt cant remember the color”. “She had scars on her breast”. Doesn’t everyone from getting whipped so hard it breaks the skin? “Her pubic hair red I mean brown maybe black I don’t remember”. “She made 2 boys watch”. “No I don’t know who they were never saw them before or after” “No I never said no are you allowed to say no”? Anyone should have been able to tell I was making it up. After that I never heard what became of it it was good enough for mom and dad they were two steps ahead once again and I knew finally that now there was no chance my angel would come back to save me. I was all alone in a world of darkness I wanted to die.”

That story was written by Kristy. On August 25 I received an email from K. and in her words,

"ms sanders you know why i said you had scars on your breast cause mommy put scars on mine with the cane i was hoping the police would know i was talking about me but they never did. i wanted so bad to be rescued but i knew mommy and daddy wouldnt allow that. mommy even put a hot curling iron in me after she was done with me cause i had a orgasim im sorry i did that mommy would hurt me if i did daddy would beat me if i didnt never could i be safe i couldnt do it anymore so others helped me. V is the fighter she can fight good she gave mommy a black eye a few times shes not sorry either. i never talk to anyone eles and please dont make me. i know kristy wants me back out but i dont like the world i dont want to live in it but i do want to talk to you. please dont tell mommy and daddy i talked to you love K.

At this point, I wrote Kristy and repeated that while I could support them and care about them, I could not be their therapist. In my own mind, I was questioning whether it would be somehow unethical of me to extend myself in friendship toward them; and soon thereafter, with Kristy’s permission, I did consult with her social workers and counselors to get their opinion on this matter (they supported our contact fully). My heart wanted to continue listening as Kristy told her story. My soul wanted to wrap itself around her in a protective embrace that would protect her from any more hurt in her lifetime. And the once-professional side of me nagged a little bit that fifteen years ago she had been my student and I her educational psychologist. Was there an ethical dilemma here?

I decided to put my trust in the fact that my intent was unclouded and that somehow I would know very quickly if there was a conflict or dilemma. What I knew for certain at this point was this: once again, I wanted to offer kindness to a girl whom I had long wondered about and often worried over. I had no illusions or delusions of rescuing her or “fixing” her anymore now than I had back then; but I did want to understand her story and I did I want to offer her my support and friendship in this unconventional written relationship we seemed to be developing. It had been several years since I had practiced professionally, and unless a miracle occurred that fixed my addled brain, it was highly unlikely I would ever find myself working as an educational psychologist in a school again. So, with the support of her social worker and open communication between all of us, I took a deep breath and allowed myself to continue to get to know this now-young woman, Kristy and the much regressed version of the girl I knew fifteen years ago: K.

I wondered how their system worked. Did they talk to each other?

TBC. Find out how Kristy managed this remarkable “disorder,” and how their roles had changed over the years and were changing once again. Read on to find out more about Kristy's life and to meet some of the "others" who lived within her.

Kristy's Story, continuing by Debra Sanders

2009-06-12T00:41:00.000-06:00

Part VI will be posted tomorrow. I am sorry that I have gone two days without continuing Kristy's story. You know, despite my absolute commitment to telling this story--for her, for others like her--this is a tough, tough story to tell...in so many ways--not the least being that I am rereading our emails and Instant Messages in order to get things in sequence properly and in order to choose a few to share with you. I want you to feel Kristy's spirit and her resiliency--her indomitable hope that despite incredible horrors,she could believe in, and find, mother love.

Be patient with me. I will try to post every day, every other day without fail...but obviously there are going to be those days when the best way I can cope with her death is not to write about it at all, but to spend 10 hours hauling bricks and rocks and pulling weeds and spending my time on my knees in my garden and breathing in the scents of lavender and lemon balm, tomatoes and basil, mint and thyme. In those moments, my heart is not quite so heavy....

Tomorrow I will write.

When Justice Fails the Children: PART VI Kristy's story by Debra Sanders

2009-06-11T18:05:00.002-06:00

Part VI: When Justice Fails the Children-Kristy’s Story

The emails continued to fly back and forth with a kind of frenetic intensity and within a week’s time nearly a hundred emails had been exchanged. K had so many questions for me: Did I still live in Alaska? Did I smoke? Did I have others that lived inside of me the way they do? Did I remember Ms. M, one of her favorite teachers? Did I know how old she was? The questions came in a flurry, as I suppose they would from a person who woke up to discover that fifteen years had passed in spite of the fact that to them, it had only been a few days.

K wanted to know if I still worked in schools; was I married, was it bad for her to be mad at her parents and was I scared of them like she was scared of them. She wanted to know if I was aware that her parents wanted to hurt me and did I have my own mommy and daddy and were they nice. And then on August 28, she writes that Kristy had showed her my website and that she does not “like big dogs daddy made one have sex with me now I scared of them.” She ended this particular email telling me she felt kind of weird and wondered, “am I asking to many questions well I better stop I love you in a good way K.”

The lack of punctuation and immature spelling came to be a trademark “K” characteristic and although Kristy did not use much punctuation (specifically, she never inserted question marks), she did write on a much higher level than K was writing and in a very different "voice."

If my head wasn’t spinning from the residual effects of the accident, it would have been spinning from the volume, intensity and content of these emails. I was grateful that I had gotten the sanction and support of her social worker, and wanted to make sure that nothing I said or mentioned would be in conflict with whatever therapy she was receiving. I was shocked and sickened by the information provided and in my worst nightmares had not imagined abuse of this magnitude. I did not want to express my outrage in a way that would trigger her or cause a defensive reaction, but I could not just ignore the information given to me.

Is it possible that such atrocities truly exist in this world…that people could be so cruel…so sick, so intentionally destructive of a child’s life? It was almost more than I could wrap my mind around and yet the context in which things were said sounded real,--not imagined and not made up. There was the ring of truth to the content of those emails, whether they were written by the nearly thirty year old Kristy or by K—who although was supposedly fourteen, really came across more like a six or seven year old in terms of her thinking and “speaking” abilities.

Quickly I found myself getting the stress-related headaches so common since the accident—the ones which came when my brain was simply overloaded with too much information, too much stimulation. The ones that produce a brain freeze that could shut me down without warning and send me into narcoleptic sleeping bouts that might last anywhere from a few hours to a few days.

Kristy, I discovered, was extremely sensitive to and concerned about me overtaxing my brain. I was enormously impressed by and fascinated by her own nurturing approach, not just to K and the “Littles” (as I was to learn she referred to the younger others), but to me as well. In an early email I had mentioned,

“I am struggling with a nasty headache today...partially from spending so much time on the computer the last few days, partially because that(as you probably know from working at the clinic) is just a function of a head injury. I always have to be careful with how much I "think", and right now, I am spending many, many hours every day writing and getting ready for the book release. I only tell you all this because if you don't hear from me, it’s possible I fell asleep! That happens alot if I overstress my brain....I just...conk out. Know that I willl be back as soon as I am able.”

Kristy’s emails often initiated with a bold faced warning to "...NOT READ UNTIL YOU FEEL UP TO IT", and she often expressed concern that the communication was too much to be good for me. Even so, although Kristy and K did talk “inside,” they were not always aware of each other’s whereabouts and doings and although Kristy was very respectful of both my time and energy, she was not always aware of just how much information K and I were exchanging (this was soon corrected by a folder system that Kristy—with K’s permission—initiated so that she could catch up on the email exchanges before contacting me). This helped lessen the number of emails substantially.

All the information and questions were coming in incredibly fast and it was impossible for me not to respond with equal rapidity. I had wondered for so many, many years what had become of this girl and I was both so horrified and drawn in by the information she was giving me, but I knew I needed to moderate my number of replies—for both our sake. Although K and Kristy seemed like two very distinct individuals, they still were coming from one body and this had to be exhausting for Kristy as well.

In my responses I was concentrating hard at not seeming therapeutic and I worried that I might not be able to hold the line as just a concerned and supportive individual in Kristy's life. I soon realized however that the utter compassion I felt and the kindness that I extended through caring words could not help but be somewhat therapeutic in their response. To make sure that no boundaries were crossed or inadvertent damage done, I got Kristy's permission to share the emails with her social worker so that a clear loop of communication was in place.

Following is an email sent in response to several of K's questions to me:

Hi!

Well my goodness, K, have you saved all these questions up for all this time???!!!!! Well, don't feel bad about asking so many of them--I did the same of Kristy when she first wrote!

Let's see…why was I in an accident? Well, not for any good reason that I can figure out! Actually, it happened on the way to work very, very early one morning...about 6:00 a.m. I was living in a real rural part of Utah then and was going to a meeting at a school quite far away...and I am not good with early morning driving because I am always sleepy in the morning. I am always most wide awake at night and usually I don't schedule meetings early and far away for this reason, but this was an unusual circumstance, so I agreed to it. It was on a Monday and I had to go to my office first to get stuff set up for the week, so I had to get up around four in the morning and be at my office by five so I could be on the road by 5:30.Unfortunately, I feel asleep driving there and rolled my truck. I didn't even hit my head, but because I was on cruise control at 55mph, the velocity of my brain slamming into my skull was quite intense. Not very smart of Ms. Sanders, was it??!!!

Yes, my dogs are big (well one is really big, one is actually kind of small by comparison) but both of them are very, very gentle. And neither one would have participated in anything like sex with a human person. Ever. Dogs have to be trained to do that, K and I am so sorry you experienced that.

Lets see...do I still work in schools? Not now, no. I did for a long, long time, but the head injury creates some problems that make it really hard...so although I do some training of teachers and counselors and I speak to groups who ask me to come talk to them, I am not working in a school like I used to do.

Am I married? Nope. I am on a solo ship on my own little sea and I have a really nice life, with wonderful friends and my two boys (that's what I call my dogs a lot of the time).I was married when you knew me, but we were divorced many years ago.

Hmmm...next...is...oh, is it bad to be mad at your parents? My own opinion on that is no, it is not bad at all...it is normal and healthy to be angry when someone doesn't treat you kindly or doesn't take care of you the way they are supposed to. Parents are supposed to protect their children, not hurt them or scare them or make them do things that are not healthy to their development. And K, I don’t think there is anything bad about you at all. I think the hardest part is over And you know what? I think the hardest part is behind you and such pain will never find its way into your life again.

As to my own parents, both have died, K, so I guess technically I don't have a mommy or daddy anymore. At least, not on this earth. But their spirits still are within me, so I kind of always feel like they are near me when I want or need them to be. Were they nice? In most ways they were, K. Like all people they each had their "issues" and sometimes those issues got in the way of their being good parents, but they were not abusive and they did not lock me up or frighten me or make me do things that would end up damaging my ability to trust people. I am grateful for that and wish it could have been so for you.

Yes, Kristy did tell me she is a lesbian and I think that’s great as long as she is in a relationship that is gentle and kind and that gives her support and love and that she can return the same to her partner. Most important to me about any relationship is that people treat each other with kindness and respect.

You know what makes me feel so happy inside, K? Hearing you say you love me in a good way...because that tells me that you know there are good kinds of loving in this world and that there is loving that doesn't hurt and that isn't confusing or full of drama.That there can be simply...loving someone. And believe me, there is nothing better, nothing healthier, nothing to treasure more than loving somebody (or a pet) in a good way and being loved back in the same sort of good way.

Know that you are cared for and loved back in that good way and not just by me, but by others as well.

Well, it’s almost 9:30 my time and I have tons to do before I go to sleep...so I better start doing it or I will be up wayyy too late. One thing about my life now is that I go to sleep a whole lot earlier than I used to. And I take naps too! As long as my brain gets a LOT of quiet time and rest, it does okay in most ways. So I shall say good night for now, K. Thanks for writing and talking with me. It’s so nice to "hear" your voice.
TTYL,
Love, Ms. Sanders

To my surprise, the following email showed up in my box at 6:30 in the morning:

I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE OR WHY YOU ARE TRYING TO CORRUPT K AGAINST OUR FATHER. HE WAS THE CHOSEN ONE TO GET TO SPEAK AND HEAR GOD. GOD TOLD HIM TO BREED AND PRODUCE FRUITS OF HIMSELF. K BROUGHT THE DEVIL INTO THE BABY SO GOD MADE HIM SACRIFICE IT. KNEEDS TO LEARN HOW TO HONOR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER.
S.

Whoa. Holy Smokes, I thought. Now, who is this and what the heck does she mean by all this?

Before I responded, I definitely wanted to talk to Kristy. Could she just come up if called? I mean, if I sent her an email would she see it or would it go to this S. person first?

I’d worked with kids identified with more than one personality and in one case, I had worked with a boy who had a very violent, aggressive part that would surface and not be remembered later. My good friend is a functional “multiple,” and I have long been aware of her “others,” although I have never interacted with them personally. Still, even with these experiences in my background, I had a feeling that nothing in my personal or professional experience had prepared me for what was going on within Kristy.

Could I handle this or was I getting into something way too complex, way too disturbing and way too demanding for me to be involved in?

TBC. Read the conversation which soon transpired between S. and I as I find out about this particular "alter" or ("other" part)--the one who had assumed the religious fervor in their household and complied with all that was demanded, while silently holding tremendous anger and rage.

Animoto.com

2009-06-10T18:05:00.000-06:00

When Justice Fails the Children, Kristy's Story by Debra Sanders

2009-06-09T17:00:00.000-06:00

PART VII

PLEASE CHECK BACK SOON. PART VII WILL BE POSTED SHORTLY. THANKS, DS

Opportunities Abound

2009-06-09T13:17:00.004-06:00

Hey out there in blogger land! I hope the day finds each of you rested and feeling optimistic about life and your place in it.

Funny thing about optimism...just when discouragement seems at its peak, the Universe seems to provide doors to walk through and opportunities to explore. In my case, a job possibility has just presented itself and I am amazed by the range of emotions I have been feeling for the past two days.

The job is as an intervention specialist--part-time-- with children three to five years old--assessing and setting up programs for troubled kids and working with their HeadStart teachers and parents in carrying out the programs both at home and in school. At least, this is what I understand the job to be. If so, it is a job that feels like I was born to do. It would combine all my skills, my experience, my joy in working with young children, teachers and parents...really, it would be perfect.

If I can do it. Not to mention, of course, that I would have to be hired first.

But assuming I did get hired, the question is, can I be a reliable employee and be where I need to be on the days I need to be there--will my brain manage learning all the new information required of starting any new job? Will I be able to compensate enough to be effective?

These are huge questions for me and the thought of trying to go back to work is both exhilarating and terrifying.

It has been interesting to me to observe my own reactions over the last two days, since I first learned of the opening. I feel a sense of optimism...of hope and of excitement that has long, long been missing from my life.

Here are the two dilemmas I perceive:

1. Am I being unrealistic? Is this an indication that I truly have not accepted this head injury and all its limitations, accepted the "new me," come to terms with no longer being a professional.....or in fact, is this a wise next step? Maybe this time around, with as much insight as I have gained into my strengths and my disabilities/inabilities, I could enter into a part time position knowing what accommodations and modifications are needed to help me maximize my strengths (like not working midweek, but rather setting up a schedule where I work on M, T, Th, F).

2. The treatments. Let's say I were to apply for and obtain this job...should I risk starting the brain treatments again? They could, of course, help me be successful. On the other hand, it seems like I am just leveling out from the incredible backward slide I took and do I want to risk those headaches or the need to shut down and sleep when I am just starting a new job??????

One thing I know for SURE is that I have never been able to get behind the self marketing and promoting of Panache that I need to do for it to become the kind of financial success that would allow me to be financially independent. I am burned out on the internet, burned out on the self hype gurus and their classes and burned out on the bonus programs, social networking and launch programs required in the online marketing of oneself and one's book. I feel an excitement at the thought of this job that I simply cannot generate from the idea of promoting the book.

I am proud of Panache. I think it is well written and it required hard, hard work on my part. I love the emails I continually get from people who have stumbled upon it and for whom it has helped. But I want to give away all my copies to the people who want to read it. I just can't get into the whole business end of self promotion. It's why I haven't reached my marketing goals yet...I just cannot seem to aggressively sell myself. I swear, I must be the only writer on the planet who does NOT want to be on Oprah.

I could champion for children with an assertiveness and aggressiveness that would make Bill Gates seem like a passive recipient in life...yet for the life of me, I cannot do the same for myself.

Interestingly, I feel like if I could get this job part time, I would have more confidence and excitement to pursue marketing and promoting the book a little more.

What do all of you out there think?

Are there even any of you out there???

I will keep you posted and in the meantime, be safe and please wear your helmet when biking and skating.

Sooooo... my concept of a day is a little skewed...

2009-06-03T23:11:00.005-06:00

Hi readers. Are there actually any readers out there or am I blogging to myself? No matter, except that if there are readers, I do extend more apologies for my delay in writing (A-gain!!). Sigh. Seems I have done a lot of apologizing lately.

So, back to the topic at hand. Bottom line is that for a brief period in time, I had the old me back. Getting through a day did not seem such a challenge and I did not have to fight for feelings of competency every moment. And then all went belly up. Not everything went belly up...my dreams are still more vivid and lucid, as they became during the treatments and in some ways, on a daily basis I feel more "present," although I no longer remember the moments, the hours or the days as having been real. It's hard to explain that one.

On the other hand, I seem less capable of managing myself than before the treatment --as if I stepped backward in time instead of forward. I seem more prone to depression and overwhelm, more sensitive and emotional and more discouraged and less hopeful about my future. And my hormones seem to have gone totally whacky and are not abating one bit. Very strange.

On the other hand, the headaches have dissipated. And that in and of itself, is a blessing because they were wicked.

Here's the dilemma:

I am being offered the opportunity to try the treatments again, under closer (daily) supervision and instead of starting with 45 min. a day at full capacity, start at half capacity every other day for 15 minutes. This time around we would develop a specific chart so I can document things specifically, and we would move slowly.

What would you do if it were you? Stay the course now and hope to get back to where I was(you were)before the treatments ever started, or.... try the treatments in a more controlled fashion and see if I can(you could) regain what happened in those first five days?

This whole thing has been devastating and a huge interruption to what acceptance and calmness I had obtained and grown into....on the other hand, as I said, it did prove all those neuro connections have been dormant, not dead.

So....what would you do if you were me?

Be safe out there.

Debra

PS weird facts for the day:

- Scientists claim that goldfish have a memory span of just three seconds. Does this mean I am no longer smarter than a goldfish? And just how do scientists test the memory span of a goldfish, anyway????

- It is estimated that a snail can sleep for 3 years. Well, I estimate that I can sleep for more than that if I don't take my Adderall. Does this mean I am slower than a snail and dumber than a goldfish now?

- An ostrich's brain is smaller than its eye. My brother says when it comes to finances, I have stuck my head in the sand.......

I better stop here. These weird facts are somehow coming around to haunt me! LOL

Is it better to have had it for awhile than never to have had it at all?

2009-05-22T01:45:00.009-06:00

I know on my last post of April 3, I said I had much to tell and would be writing about it all very soon. Given that it is now the 22nd of May, I realize I better have a pretty good reason for my absence if I want to gain my readers back. Actually, in a lot of ways I do but in some ways, I realize that I should have, and probably could have, been writing all along.

Lest I write a mini novel, let me simply say this: it has been a trying couple of months. For all those out there with head injuries, you will know exactly what I mean when I say that I have been feeling utterly exhausted by the constant vigilance, weary of the cotton batting that takes up so much space in my head;frustrated beyond description with the constant challenge of simple things being difficult and simply...worn out with and by the struggles. Not to sound whiny or pathetic or anything...but really, this is where I have been residing in my absence. Surely I didn't need to expose you to all that sniveling!

For all of you out there who live with and/or love someone with a brain injury, trust me when I say that no matter how empathetic you might be (and I know for a fact that so many of you are), it is impossible for you to know the absolute depth of devastation and loss that is experienced by anyone who once was in possession of a well oiled and reasonably intact working machine that now functions like a rusty, ill-functioning, undependable and unreliable imitation. Think, giving up your new laptop for the first desktop computer you ever used.

When I last wrote on April 3rd it was with the excitement of an unbelievable experience that I absolutely could not wait to share. In fact, I was in such a state of bliss that I had just about committed myself to doing whatever it would take to create a nonprofit that would ensure that every single individual with a mild/moderate head injury had access to what I was experiencing. What was it?

I had my old brain back. For five remarkable, incredible, indescribable days...I was the me I used to be. It was an experience almost impossible to put into words...one that had me thinking about each of you and how I could get you access to what I was experiencing. I don't know if I have ever felt such pure joy and such complete gratitude to the ones making this experience possible for me as I was feeling when I last posted on here. I felt, truly, as if I had been given my life back.

Under the guidance of medical and professional people,I underwent daily treatments--cortical electrical stimulation treatments, 45 minutes a day.What transpired was simply surreal, and the effects were not just my wishful, hopeful thinking. The changes in me were noticeable by people close to me who did not know what I was doing; who I hadn't told of my decision to undergo the treatments. It was in fact, immediately noticed by my dog, Teek...and that is a story in itself, but one I will save for another time. Just trust that he knew something had shifted and that I was the me of "old."

Almost immediately after the initial treatment and certainly after the second one,it was as if the chaos and the chatter in my head was suddenly gone...had just disappeared. Sensations and sensory awareness were present that I hadn't even realized had been missing until they suddenly returned(like, for example, my appestat registering fullness--something I didn't even know wasn't happening until suddenly it was happening).

And then, just as quickly as the dendrites and neurons fired up and showed us they had been dormant, not destroyed...they stopped firing and connecting. At 11:30p.m. on night five, the headache set in and when I woke up the next morning it was as if I was the me-not that I had been the week before treatment began--but the me of those first few months post accident.

I have never felt such devastation or despair as in those next couple of weeks of battling the return of those white hot headaches and the need to sleep 18, 20 hours a day. Frankly, folks...it was touch and go there for a little bit.I mean, I had been feeling so REAL. I had been feeling so PRESENT in the moment, so clear and calm and....capable.

And then, just like Charly in Flowers for Algernon, I was horrifyingly aware that it was but a brief reprieve. For those of you not old enough to remember (or too old to remember), Flowers for Algernon is a play about a man with cognitive impairment--mental retardation--who was given experimental treatment and who become a genius, only to have the treatments stop working, leaving him aware that he was returning to his prior, impaired self.

My journal throughout those days is a bit heartbreaking, ending one day with the question and musing, "I wonder...did the velveteen rabbit stay real? I can't remember. I will have to go back and read the story to find out."

Charly and the velveteen rabbit came up frequently in my journal over the last couple of months.

Because I don't want to write a book in one posting, I am going to close here. I don't want to leave you with my angst and despair,however, so let me close by saying that this is a journey, like all of it is a journey and I am not residing in that bleak place of despondency that initially set in. Tune in tomorrow and I will tell you more of this story and more about where it has taken me. And when I am through, I have a few questions I would like to toss out to all or any of you out there, and I hope you will write in your thoughts and your responses.

Until then...be safe out there and wear your helmets if you are skating and riding your bikes. In fact, wear your helmets if you are just stepping in the shower. A little caution is not a bad thing....you know what I mean?

Okay, maybe not in the shower.

Remember to treat yourself and others with grace and patience...until tomorrow (for real this time!),

Debra

PS weird fact for today: A cockroach can live several weeks with its head cut off - it dies from starvation. hmm....O-kayyyy.

WHICH ONE FOR YOUTUBE by Debra Sanders

2009-04-03T10:10:00.005-06:00

I have a great deal of interesting and exciting news to blog about, and before the day is over, I will do exactly that; but for right now I am trying to figure out how to load five Animotos for you to watch. They are all short--they range from 30 seconds to 2 minutes.

If you could take a little time, I would love to know which you like, which you don't, which you think should go on YouTube (one, some or all of them), etc. This of course, is assuming I figure out how to upload them because it isn't happening by hitting the video icon and saying upload. Hmmmm........

Thanks! And check back very soon for the big news. I mean, it is BIG news, folks!

Until then, happy video watching,

Debra

Natasha Richardson, RTIR, Dings, Bell-Ringers ,untimely deaths and pure facts by Debra Sanders

2009-03-19T18:52:00.009-06:00

It's amazing. I have been running ads in The Radio and Television Interview Report (RTIR) since September, and let me tell you, these are not cheap ads. RTIR is one of the mainstays of the radio and television talk show industry—every month it contains almost a hundred pages of tabloid type ads, all clamoring for the attention of talk show hosts ranging from the likes of the guy running the little radio station up the road, to those in charge of finding guests for Good Morning America and Oprah.

I could have chosen any number of marketing angles when it came to issues brought up in A Matter of Panache: special education, traumatic brain injuries, public education, the choice to endorse or reject mediocrity; even, the decisions and choices we make in the name of friendship. I opted for none of these, but rather my ads have been focusing on a small subset of head injuries: concussions. Why? (Besides the fact that my own under-treated concussion has cost me hundreds of thousands of dollars in lost income, my previously active lifestyle and a good percentage of any feelings of competence in the last six years). Why? Because the statistics surrounding concussions are staggering and they receive very little attention. Surprisingly little attention.

Anyone out there want to guess how many radio stations have called me over the past five months, wanting to set up interviews?

If you said zero, take a bow. You are correct. Zero. Not one radio station thought the topic worthy of booking a guest—despite the fact that every day there is the need for 10,000 talk show guests. Ten thousand guests needed--every day! Can you believe that? (This demand perhaps explains the thinking behind booking some of the guests we have all heard interviewed here and there over the years, don’t you think?)

But,sticking to my topic-the answer is, I repeat: no calls. Not even so much as an email request asking me to be a guest on somebody’s show. This, despite the fact that March is Brain Injury Awareness Month!

That is, I had no calls until today.

My phone started ringing at 6:00 this morning and it has not stopped ringing since. I am betting it will ring again tomorrow. Producers of radio shows in Montreal, British Columbia, Wisconsin, California, Minnesota and God knows where else have called wanting to have me on their show. Why? Well, because a young, beautiful and very talented woman died after a seemingly innocent fall on a beginners ski slope. And when movie and stage stars die unexpectedly, people take notice and suddenly their cause of death is sexy enough to garner attention.

I am sick over the death of Natasha Richardson. Not because I loved her as an actress—frankly, I am not sure I have ever seen anything she has been in—but because she is 45 years old and the mother of two boys, age 10 and 12. And because, although you probably won’t hear this, what happened is not all that uncommon. My guess is, you will hear this referred to as some sort of fluke, a gross anomaly,a freak accident. You will hear it referred to as anything other than the truth in order to explain how a fit, vibrant woman could have possibly died from such an innocent little fall in the snow.

Well, let me give all of my readers out there some shocking information (all six of you, LOL):

• Every year falls are the leading cause of traumatic brain injuries, with consistent reporting indicating that roughly 85% of concussions go undiagnosed.

• Nationwide, 300,000 sports and recreation-related concussions are reported every year, but the estimate is that nearly seven times that number is closer to the number of concussions that are actually sustained.

• Most people think a helmet will prevent a concussion, yet football, ice and field hockey, soccer, lacrosse, softball and wrestling all require helmets—and the rate of concussions in these contact sports is high.

• Loss of consciousness is rarely a symptom present in sports concussions and brief loss of consciousness does not correlate to the severity of the injury—still, when players sustain star-causing “dings” and “bell ringers,” they are allowed to continue playing since they appear to be “okay.”

• One in five high school athletes suffer concussions (that’s the reported number). Surprisingly, people seem to think that because teens own youth, they recover more quickly. In fact, children and teens are far, far more vulnerable to the ramifications of concussions. They suffer many more of them and their brains and nervous systems take longer (not less time) to recover.

• Second-impact syndrome—that is, sustaining another hit to the brain within a year, can cause irreversible brain damage—or death.

• At least two young athletes in our nation die each year as the result of a sport-related concussion. Just like Natasha Richardson died. The only difference is their deaths do not bring attention to the issue.

I could go on and on (and on and on) about this subject, because I can tell you from personal experience that there is no such thing as a “mild” head injury…that I was told, “it’s just a concussion. You’ll be fine in a couple of days,” and because the six year anniversary of that day is coming up in two weeks and I am still very much not fine.

Natasha Richardson was a young, beautiful, talented woman who has now left two pre-teen boys without a mother. I don’t care how rich, how famous, how pampered a person is, no amount of money can replace a mother to two young boys.

Here’s but one of my many questions: When the paramedics came to intervene and they were told to go away because Natasha said she was “fine,” why did they go? I said I was fine too—I walked away from my rolled truck and insisted I was fine. The paramedics at my accident scene did not however, turn and walk away; rather, they insisted on taking me—in an ambulance—to the hospital. They may have miscalled the severity and duration of the effects, but there is no doubt they knew enough about concussions to know that more often than not (for reasons I can explain in another post), people often feel okay the first hour or two following a concussion. It’s after that time period that the headaches, nausea, dizziness, blurred vision and foggy thinking start to emerge. And one would think that paramedics and hospital personnel are aware that concussions rarely show up on CT scans or MRIs (the reasons for which I can also explain in another post), but that does not mean serious damage has not occurred.

Anyone…I mean, anyone and everyone who sustains a jolt to the head (note that I said jolt, not crack or bump to the skull) needs to be carefully watched for a minimum of twenty-four hours, with the absolute understanding that slow bleeds which cause swelling, can cause death if not treated. The subdural hematoma that killed Natasha Richardson was easily enough treated had it been caught. Physicians treat it all the time—they open up the skull and make room for the swelling, and rarely does the injury become fatal. Left untreated however,the outcome is nearly always tragic.

I urge all of you out there to at least make Natasha Richardson’s death matter to more than her two little boys and husband. Start learning about concussions. Learn the truth about concussions and learn what to do when you or someone you know sustains a “ding.” Don’t cheer the athlete who shakes his head to clear the stars and then goes back onto the field. Why on earth would we ever cheer such foolishness?

Keep checking on my blog. I promise you there will not be two or three weeks between posts when it comes to this subject. Next: Signs and symptoms. After that: treatment and interventions.

This is a topic that deserves not one, but many posts.

Oh, and turn on your radios. As of today, I am booked on…let’s see…I think it was five shows, last count. Or maybe it was six.

And one more thing...by Debra Sanders

2009-03-02T22:58:00.002-07:00

Did you know that on average, 100 people choke to death on ballpoint pens every year?

And for those still waiting to hear about Mexico...honest, details are coming (and the checks in the mail!)

My Best as Always,

Debra

A Matter of Panache

2009-03-02T22:56:00.001-07:00

I found this funny quote today:

[ I am sure I have full-blown and severe Social Networking Introverted Personality Dysfuncion and Anxiety Disorder--SNIPDAD. ]

You should read the whole article. Especially if you think you or someone you know is suffering from a simiilar disorder.

Internet Anxiety Disorders and Hypochondriasis by Debra Sanders

2009-03-02T21:54:00.006-07:00

Two of the classes that were both the most fun and the most frustrating to teach were Psych 101 and Intro to Abnormal Personality Disorders. Not because you have to present and integrate, a hundred aspects and years of psychology in one short semester, but because the people who take these classes as their electives, or worse because they are majoring in psychology, are inevitably interested in them. And that means that sooner or later they would come to me sure they were afflicted with a variety of psych disorders—or their brothers/sisters/mothers/fathers /uncles/aunts and/or grandparents were; and they wanted to share (AKA process) their story.

That’s great. I love people’s stories. I do. It’s just that I always taught the 7pm-10pm block and it could wear a bit thin when there would be four students self-diagnosed with schizoid disorders, six with bipolar disorder and a minimum of twelve who were certain they had been reared in families whose members were beset with variations of paranoid, histrionic or obsessive-compulsive disorders—all standing in line, anxiety ridden, because they just had to ask one more question before I left for the night.

But I now realize that I should have never dissed my students; even if it is true, I only rolled my eyes privately in my mind.

WHY?

Because having thrown myself full-throttle into the marketing and promotion of having written a book, I am now a full-blown self-diagnosed Intro to Social Networking Hypochondriac. I have, I am quite sure, Social Networking Introverted Personality Dysfunction and Anxiety Disorder.

Better known as S.N.I.P.D.A.D.

SNIP DAD can be mighty debilitating and although it is not yet listed in the DSM-V, I am sure it exists. It is definitely a spectrum disorder and I am clearly falling at the severe end of the spectrum. Just listen to my list of symptoms:

1.Anxiety leading into rapid heart palpitations over not accepting somebody I don’t know as a friend because, how am I going to get connected if I keep saying no??? This is complicated by equal angst over accepting someone as a friend because what if they are a wacky weirdo?? I have a history of magnetically attracting WWs. I need to use cautious judgment about these things. But even without this stress, my judgment has been questionable since April, 2003.

2. Nightmares about getting my networks mixed up and putting a news post on Facebook and Twittering on Digg; lost in Squidoo because I thought I was on Flickr. This is causing increasing anxiety and irritability which is significantly interfering with my ability to be nice. To anyone.

3.Increasingly intense headaches as I try to understand how to manage the nine million little messages and notes and posts and nudges and elbows and pokes that surface each day on the various sites. I know I am supposed to be networking, connecting, promoting and reciprocating but good god almighty, where are people finding the time to DO this???????

4. Overwhelm leading to hyperventilation in regards to blogs. Apparently if I want people to see my blog I need to be on theirs, commenting (intelligently). I don’t even manage to make it to my blog, never mind comment (intelligently) on it. How on earth am I going to make the rounds on everybody else's?

5. Night sweats and stomach cramps when I hear the term: virtual book tours.VBTs. It sounds like a disease, doesn’t it? ("I've had the VBTs all morning and feel nauseous and faint.") In a moment of impulsive spending I downloaded an ebook for authors on how to conduct VBTs and in the early stages of my disquietude and distress, I trash-canned it before I even finished reading page 3...leading to increased apprehension over financial matters.

6.Severe attention deficits and profound memory impairment when I try to remember that I have set up profiles on libraryreads.com, goodreads.com, the redroom.com, author101,com, shelfari.com, amazon.com (of course), weread.com, bookhitch.com, novelread.com,writerscafe.com and booklicker.com. To name but a few.

7. Explosive cursing episodes when "friends" urge me to sign up and be active in multiple groups on StumbleUpon and LinkedIn.

8.HIVES(!) each time I try to master book-trailer-making so I can post on Animoto.com, YouTube and MetaCafe.

And OMG, BlogRadio!

9. Every time I try to figure out BlogRadio--and is that different from BlogTalkRadio?--I find myself roaming the kitchen and grazing on every possible food distraction I can find.

I have a head injury—yes— but I can tell you with certainty, that even if I didn’t, I would be subject to the hives, sweats, heart palpitations, headaches, sleeplessness, nightmares, increased appetite due to procrastination and frustration, irritability, attention deficits, disorganization, explosive cursing episodes, need for instant gratification, alcohol abuse (my wine consumption has definitely increased!), angry outbursts, frequent mood swings and anxiety brought on by SNIP DAD!

Surely this is not ALL due to my head injury!?!?!?

I would like to know if anyone else out there is suffering from, or knows an aunt/uncle/brother/sister (etc) who is suffering from, this debilitating disorder. If so, how is it being treated? Drugs? Meditation? Brain cell implants? Imposed power outages? A twelve step program( SNIPDADs anonymous?)?

Please write. I would love to know.

My Best,
Debra

P.S. I solemnly swear that if I ever teach university classes again, I will never, ever, EVER minimize my student’s self-diagnosed proclamations. Those same kids are the ones who will inevitably show me how to master this cyberworld thing. Or commit me for treatment.

Weird Facts, Selling Oneself and Speaking in Mexico, by Debra Sanders

2009-02-26T16:56:00.010-07:00

I know all my blog fans (all six of you!) have been chomping at the bit to know how my debut in Denver turned out. I apologize for keeping you all on edge, but as most of you know, I had to be in Mexico for eight days for my debut in the workshop world. Yep, that's right. I was scheduled to be a workshop presenter for the first time since the accident. At the Fourth Annual San Miguel de Allende writers and literary conference. Todd Gitlin was a keynote speaker. Was I nervous about this?

Does a camel hold its water well?

Before I tell you about Mexico, let me tell you two quick things. First, did you know that it's illegal to drink beer out of a bucket while you're sitting on a curb in St. Louis? How about that for a strange fact! I mean, apparently in St. Louis, you can sit on a curb and drink beer out of a shoe or a boot...even out of a bottle. But drink it out of a bucket by God, and get ready to do some jail time.

Buckets of beer aside, the other thing I need to tell you about is Denver...just a quick update. How did I do? you all ask..well, lets just say I was never meant to be a business woman. Self promotion is NOT comfortable for me. It just isn't. I don't think people should have to pay to read what I wrote. If they read it and like it, let them donate to the Debra Sanders Save Her House Foundation (DSSHHF); and if not...well, let them pass the book on to someone who might like it.

So, uhm...okay, the truth is, I gave away more books than I sold in Denver.

Moving on...

In Mexico, I sold all the books I took to sell and only gave away two! Never mind that I only took ten and that I discounted them for students taking my workshops!

Speaking of Mexico, you know what? Mexico deserves a post all its own. Seeing as how in the blogging world posts are supposed to be kept short, I think I will end here with another strange fact and give you the update on Mexico in its own space. It's quite a story!

Weird fact #2: Just like fingerprints, everybody's tongue print is individual. Especially interesting about tongues is not so much that we wag ours as the fact that a giraffe has a 21 inch one and clean their own ears with it!

LOL. Glad to be back on US soil. Check back for the story on Mexico!

And, as always, remember that a little panache can go a long, long way!

Till the next one,

Debra
ps if anyone out there can clean their own ear with their own tongue, please let me know!

Hawking, Biting and Andy Rooney by Debra Sanders

2009-02-13T00:34:00.009-07:00

BlogAlert! Yes, It has been nearly two months since I have blogged. Shame on me.

I am here at the statewide Inclusion conference in Denver--I am going to hawk my wares. This will be my first venture into the public world (as compared to my ever more dominant online world) to actually physically and shamelessly try to convince people that there is nothing they would rather do than buy one or two copies of A Matter of Panache!

In Alaska,there is a name for the people that help the mushers with their dogs, especially at race time. They are called handlers. Handlers are the ones who keep the wound up dogs from bolting in the wrong direction or from getting tangled in their lines; or simply, from becoming too distracted to focus on the event at hand. Not that I am comparing myself to a wild and rambunctious dog, but I thought I would mention that I have a handler with me at this monumental debut I am making. My friend Joyce has flown in from S.L.C. in order to help keep me organized; and to make sure I don't blubber and bolt the first time someone says, "Oh, are you the author?" Or worse--the first time I find myself sitting all alone at my table with nobody interested in looking at, much less buying, the book. It's a daunting task I am sure, to keep me focused, organized, on time, well-fed, calm, alert and not flying off into cognitive overload after 15 minutes in a public surrounding. Joyce is a very good friend. And she is an excellent handler.

Actually, now that I am mentioning handlers and dogs, it reminds me that despite all those years in Alaska, I never did get used to handlers and mushers referring to dogs as B*#*. It seemed so harsh. And one of the things I have worried about in attending this particular conference is that some of the people I spoke of in Part IV might be here...and well, although I respectfully sent each of them a copy of Panache prior to its release, I suppose that some of these people might be thinking of me as a female dog and therefore not the least bit surprised that I have a handler to keep me in line.

I would feel very badly if this turns out to be true. I mean, it really is such a harsh word.

Speaking of harsh: did you know that in New York City, approximately 1,600 people are bitten by other humans annually? I find this fact, fascinating. I mean,I have worked with a lot of biters over the years; but, believe me, every one of them has been placed on a plan of some sort or another to eliminate biting behavior.

I wonder if people in NYC are allowed to just go around biting each other without consequence?

Actually, what I really wonder is how somebody came up with this statistic. I mean, does this count all the toddlers in preschools throughout the city who bite each other when they get mad? And if so, do we now have to report toddlers who bite to the police so data can be kept on this sort of thing? And if doesn't include the toddlers, what does it mean? That some 1600 adults are displaying subway rage by biting if someone gets in their way?

Do they arrest people in NYC for biting?

I wonder if anyone out there besides me can hear Andy Rooney's voice in their head. Doesn't this just sound like the kind of thing he would sit at his desk contemplating? I have an entire Andy Rooney monologue now skipping through my brain. I wonder if I could query him and become one of his writers...

Well, with that thought, stay tuned for more on flagrant self-promotion and weird facts tomorrow. One never knows what a day of shameless hawking will bring!

Have fun out there and remember...a little panache can go a long, long way!

It's good to be back!

Debra

"If I only had a Brain!" by Debra Sanders

2008-11-23T00:28:00.006-07:00

Let's go back to Oz for a moment. First of all, I just noticed my post of Nov. 16-- where I talk about Elizabeth Bennett, Susan Jones and the most remarkable Sally Shields of the famous Daughter-in-Law advice book...is cut off after Elizabeth's name. Where did it go??? I know I wrote it.

For the life of me, I've no idea where it went, nor how to make it return.

If this were not maddening enough...I tried to add to "blogs that I follow," so as to include my new found, above-mentioned friends. Now, I accomplished this task once, because I have Schuler's Monster listed. You think I could figure out how to do it again? I mean, really, how complicated can this be?

As you may notice, I now have FOUR confirmed followers of my blog (impressive number, don't you think?!): Rainbow Survivor, DIL, Elizabeth Bennett and....Ta DAH!!!!!: Me. I am now a comfirmed follower of my own blog.

Never mind that I WAS going to dazzle my imaginary readers out there utilizing the metaphor of Oz, the yellow brick road and all its characters to continue musing on the road to promotion and marketing hell....but, you know...metaphor, schmetaphor. Lets get right to the non-metaphoric point of how I am feeling right now:

Lion: I'd be brave as a blizzard...
Tin man: I'd be gentle as a lizard...
Scarecrow: I'd be clever as a gizzard...
Dorothy: If the Wizard is a wizard who will serve.
Scarecrow: Then I'm sure to get a brain

Ya think I'm shootin' too low here???

Nah...

If I figure out 1) how to link, 2) how to sign up to follow other people's blogs, and 3) how to publicize my own blog, THEN perhaps I will shoot beyond gizzard cleverness. Right now...even that seems a pretty darn high aspiration!!!

Keep on reading my three real and thousands of imaginary friends..... and remember:

A little bit of panache can go a long, long way! :-)

A Florida Suicide, Kitty Genovese, Bullying,Bystanders and Brain Centers by Debra Sanders

2008-11-21T14:42:00.020-07:00

Since no one actually seems to be reading this blog right now, I am going to deviate from my Wizard of Oz analogy for the time being, and comment on something that came out in the news 18 minutes ago and is making my heart and my stomach just ache.

Anyone out there old enough to remember the Kitty Genovese story in 1964, recalls the horror of thinking of a 29 year old woman being stabbed to death with neighbors ignoring her cries for help. It was after that The Bystander Effect and Diffusion of Responsibility garnered the attention of social scientists and researchers.

The truth is, much of the Kitty Genovese story, as reported by the news at the time, was inaccurate, but that doesn't negate the very real existence of both these phenomenon.

AP just reported that a 19 year old teen kept web viewers watching for 12 hours as he combined and swallowed drugs with the full intent of committing suicide. During that time some viewers egged him on, some attempted to talk him out of it, but no one notified the police or a moderator until it was too late and this young man was dead.

The Kitty Genovese story might have been hyped for good copy, but in our do-all, tell-all, see-all society of web cams, podcasts and virtual everything, no hype is needed here. How can it be that a site that had 670,000 during the previous month did not have one person interested in, or willing, to stop a suicide in progress?

Recently Benjamin Lahey, a University of Chicago researcher, conducted a study which--according to him--showed that when watching scenes of strangers being hurt, the pleasure and reward center of the brains of teens with a history of violence and bullying became activated. In Lahey's words, "They were not only indifferent to pain--they loved it." These brain centers did not activate in the centers of the control group that had no history of violence or bullying--in fact in those subjects, their own pain centers activated, suggesting feelings of empathy.

I have many questions regarding the Lahey study, however at the moment the first two become these: If this study can be generalized to the entire population of people watching this web cam, are we to assume everyone who watched on this site (Justin.tv) is a violent offender and therefore enjoyed watching a young man in his dying state? And if not, what on earth does this say about those of us who are NOT violent offenders and yet who stand by and take no action in the face of another person's pain?

It brings to mind the not-so-long ago video of a boy being bullied and beaten on the school's playground as the group of onlookers included some who egged on the beating and others who silently watched before finally, one lone student notified the authorities (though not before significant bodily harm was incurred).

Obama's election restored my joy and hope in our future; this has the sad effect of making me question whether we really have deteriorated too far as a culture to redeem ourselves.

From Wonderland to Oz, Mad Hatters to Winged Monkeys by Debra Sanders

2008-11-16T21:13:00.011-07:00

"You, my friend, are a victim of disorganized thinking. You are under the unfortunate impression that just because you run away you have no courage; you're confusing courage with wisdom"
Oz to the Lion.

In writing Panache, I likened myself to Alice, tumbling down a rabbit hole only to find myself in a bizarre world where time stood still and ran backwards; and where mad hatters and queens were not helping me very much as I tried to find my way home.

Now, in the marketing and promotion end of this book process, I find myself likening myself to Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, where each character is symbolic of some part of me, and the ever present monkeys are continually threatening to overtake and lock me up before I reach the end of the yellow brick road.

In my quiet cave of words, the one in which I spent two years writing the book, I thought my brain had done a lot of healing. During that time, I was quite sure that I both knew and accepted the limitations of my new brain; and I compensated as needed. My world was quiet; it did not involve extraneous conversations, new experiences, interacting with others, or venturing outside the comfort of my picket fenced world. I slept as needed without shame or embarrassment because, other than my dogs, few were privy to the configuration of that world. I often did not return phone calls; I made excuses for not joining in on activities to which I was invited. I knew that to do so would be at great cost to my ability to remain on task and move forward. After all, every time I detoured, when I returned (a day later, two days...a few hours later) I had to reread everything written and sort of start over, because I couldn’t remember what I had said unless I read it all again.

Some seemed to think I was a social butterfly—too busy to return phone calls and never initiating them. Some probably figured I was just antisocial. And some people simply stopped thinking about me at all, as I drifted away from their consciousness and into the role of someone from their past.

No matter. I was accomplishing what I had set out to do and I understood what it required. And when the book was written and in its final stages of revision, I knew I had to undertake the study of marketing and promotion. Again, there could be no distractions. Not only because it was impossible for me to hold on to new information if I allowed other stimulation and experiences to take place; but because it was humiliating enough just in front of myself to discover that in spite of the CD disks beginning to warp from overuse, every time I listened to them, the information was new. I would just keep at it until I got it, and then when I was all ready and my plan was in place, then I would leave my comfortable lair and go about the task of selling the book, getting my message out there and recouping the enormous amount of money this endeavor cost.

I was fairly confident, though perhaps a bit intimidated,to venture forth. After all, I had studied hard; I had a written plan that would guide me down the road; I knew the destination and I had all the tools surrounding me to help me reach it.

Well, the beginning road of the destination is here...this coming Tuesday, November 18th, the book will have its public launching.

Just as Dorothy would not have reached Oz without Toto, Scarecrow, TinMan and Lion...I would not be here without those who have surrounded me. The surprise is not just how incredible this supportive crew has been, but in the shock of my discovery of just how Much I have required of them.

Come back tomorrow and find out more about what the winged monkeys are doing on my own yellow brick road. The answers might surprise you.

"What makes a king out of a slave? Courage! What makes the elephant charge his tusk in the misty mist, or the dusky dusk? Courage! What makes the Hottentot so hot? What have they got that I ain't got? Courage!"
Lion

shame on me!!! by Debra Sanders

2008-11-16T21:04:00.002-07:00

Well, it has been far too long since I logged in on my own blog! Shame on me is right! My only good excuse is that I have been working on being ready for the launch of Panache this coming Tuesday, Noavember 18th.

I have so many topics I want to write on--developing the partnerships to "launch" has connected me to some wonderful people. Elizabeth Bennett

On marketing your own book by Debra Sanders

2008-10-04T08:32:00.015-06:00

Okay, I am going to switch over from politics now (not that I have given up my crusade--I haven't!) But I have this need to talk about this business of self-promotion that is so necessary in the marketing of one's book.

I DO NOT LIKE IT ONE LITTLE BIT!!!!!

I find it so uncomfortable that I find myself resisting and resisting doing the nine million things that must be done if one wants a book to sell. Even before the accident, this would not have been something comfortable for me. But now, it is not just uncomfortable, it is painful.

For one thing, since the accident I seem to have become an incredible introvert. Timid. Hesitant to even want to leave my house (even though every time I do, it feels great!). I hate this timidity in myself in general, but to promote one's book, diffidence and reticence are not qualities one can allow to bubble even close to the surface. You have to be strong, aggressive and filled with entrepreneurial energy.

I am none of these things.

The psychosocial/behavioral aspects of head injuries are way underestimated, I think! Or maybe the changes in me are not from the head injury itself. Maybe it's that the head injury has challenged my confidence and rendered me so unsure of my own perceptions that it is this that has resulted in my becoming the mostly house-bound person I currently seem to be. Now that would be an interesting study, wouldn't it? Is it the actual physical changes in the brain that have created this timid, inhibited person or is it that my confidence in myself is so eroded that it is this that has led to my timidity????

Either way, I do not enjoy the multitude of new things I am having to master in order to get Panache out of my house and into the public. I do not enjoy having to promote myself to others so that they can help promote the book (as in getting joint venture partners to sponsor me in an online campaign). I thought doing online campaigning would allow me to remain safely within my walls, but in fact, I am having to put myself out there just as much as if it were all face to face.

Wow. Interesting, isn't it? I want to get Panache out of the house and in the public eye, but I want to remain closeted. Well, THAT can't happen. Either we both go out or we both stay in.

Guess I will have to find my shoes. Or at least my bedroom slippers.

Gotta Love that Sykes!!! by Debra Sanders

2008-09-24T19:07:00.002-06:00

She's funny and she's right. Take a look as Sykes spouts off about the Republicans and Palin in particular.

It's hard to believe this poll, but apparently....by Debra Sanders

2008-09-22T09:53:00.004-06:00

...most voters think Palin is qualified to lead this country. In a recent poll 52% said YES, 46% said NO and zero said they were unsure.

I find this remarkable. Both that 52% of the people said that she is qualified and that nobody was unsure.

The PBS poll asks: Is Sarah Palin qualified to be VP? Surely there is not a majority out there that really feels she is. You don't have to give your name or email address in order to vote. It's very simple. One click to say yes, no, DK and one click to send it. Go ahead, put in your two clicks. I need some reality checking here....so please quickly go to this link and do your part to communicate a sane perspective.
Here's the link: http://www.pbs.org/now/polls/poll-435.html

By the way, go to this link and read Sam Harris's editorial--it's outstanding!http://www.newsweek.com/id/160080

Tidbits by Debra Sanders

2008-09-20T10:32:00.003-06:00

Well, according to the Rassumussen report this morning, Obama has taken a small lead. I find this comforting since even though it is not statistically significant (1%), it is a gain. I can only hope that within the next several weeks this trend continues.

On another note, I read an interesting article the other day that indicated in New York homeschooled kids with disabilities were no longer going to be able to access special education services. Helllo? I obviously have to do more research into this because that makes no sense whatsoever and honestly feels illegal to me (it's not). I mean, homeschool families pay taxes, they are supporting their local school district and they should certainly be entitled to support services such as O.T., P.T., etc. One mother was quoted saying her daughter was too medically fragile to attend school (and it certainly sounded as if that is true from the description) and with this new ruling, all services she has been receiving will be eliminated.

Apparently each state has this option--it is not federal policy.

Anyone out there know any more about this?

Keep smiling. Whatever it is, say it with a little panache and see how it goes!

Debra

\ If I were Sarah Palin......by Debra Sanders

2008-09-13T06:53:00.003-06:00

New campaign needed to reach women rooting for Palin

Attention all campaign organizers:Our current ads and campaign strategies are not likely to work in the current situation

Written by: debra s on Sep 12, 2008 2:01 PM EDT
Linked to campaigns: Obama for America

I am becoming obsessed with the Sarah Palin issue. It is dominating my thinking and my writing time, when I have a stack of "MUST BE DONE TODAY" papers sitting right in front of me. Most of these are left over from M,T, W, and Th's "must be done today" piles....because as I said, I am becoming obsessed with the Sarah Palin issue.

Here's the thing...I have been donating money (that I absolutely do not have to give away) to MoveOn, to Defenders of Wildlife, etc. etc. etc. to support their campaigns to get the word out regarding Sarah Palin's various stance on issues; to reach voters with information regarding her shocking and deplorable lack of knowledge and/or readiness to step into the vice presidency of the United States.

If you're reading this, chances are you know most or many or at least the gist of the facts surrounding Sarah Palin. That she is entirely ill-prepared is by now obvious. That she is the anti-Christ to those of us who support the laws that continue moving women toward equal status and those of us intent on being proactive in saving our planet, is also obvious. Spending millions on campaigns to get this word out to the "swing" voters seems unproductive to me.

We're spending money and precious time to preach to the proverbial choir.

The sector of the population that has been electrified by Sarah Palin, for the most part, is not emotionally invested in wolves, polar bears, or even the fact that she chose to bring a child with Down syndrome into this world. For one thing, from the blogs I have been seeing, most parents of kids with disabilities already are not supporters of Palin. They are not fools. All they have to do is see that Alaska ranks second from the bottom in terms of health care for children in a state that has about the highest rate of children with fetal alcohol effects, to know that Sarah Palin has been no "friend" to middle income families trying to gain adequate health care for their medically fragile or high needs children.

Not to mention that she has gone on record to say that No Child Left Behind is working. Parents with children in the special education system know, and have known for a long time, that for their children NCLB is not working. Has never worked.

And for she, of eight month old child with a disability, to attempt to come across as if she's happily riding the bus all parents of children with special needs have ridden, whether by choice or simply by selection, is absurd at best, offensive at worst.

I think we're missing the boat and we've very little time to figure out how to hop back on. We are not going to bring back all the intelligent middle-income women who have suddenly become groupies of this Dr. Dobson in a skirt by giving them facts about her. Or by bombarding them with all the reasons Palin is not qualified to serve in the White House.

You know why?

Because women are relating to her. They are identifying with her. They feel some sort of emotional connection to Sarah Palin that says: "Wow. She is just like me."

And when people feel like that, they discard facts and reason.

Whether it’s because Sarah Palin is the woman that many want to be (tough, feisty, smart, pretty and able to do her own hunting and fishing without relying on a guy to do it for her); or whether it’s because she says things like “gonna,” has five kids and you feel like you could sit down and slam back a brewski with her... the women committing to Palin are those who feel emotionally invested in seeing her in the White House. What a great role model for our daughters, I am hearing. What a great role model for women, I have heard from the mouths of women I have previously considered intelligent (and still do...I just consider them temporarily deranged).

How can any woman of the twenty-first century say this woman is a good role model, knowing what is threatened by her election?

They can say it because they are not hearing facts. They are feeling. And what I think they are feeling is that Sarah Palin making it to the white house says that we too could accomplish something of this magnitude. We of the ordinary.

One thing about Hillary...while just about all of us respect her; I venture to guess that equal in numbers are those who would be just a tad tongue tied and intimidated were she to pop into the living room.

For Hillary, I suspect most of us would dress up and want to be able to offer at least semi-decent wine. On the other hand, Palin guts moose and has popped out five babies. Something about those two facts takes the edge off worrying about looking or acting more sophisticated than we really are.

My contention is that the idea of Sarah Palin in the white house is empowering every woman who has felt powerless and ineffectual within the constellation of her world. Sarah Palin, of leather skirt and strapped on gun, is communicating to thousands of everyday, middle class American women that they matter. They count. They are A-Okay. A-Okay enough, in fact, to go all the way to the white house. And they would like to help put her there.

Later of course, these same women will feel duped and bamboozled by Sarah Palin, much as people have felt for centuries after falling madly in love with someone only to discover later that there was not much substance to love. The problem is--if I know my psychological stages of things--that awareness will come much later and we only have seven weeks to get a critical message across.

I am neither a marketer nor an ad person, and perhaps I am way off base here; but if we are going to open the eyes of the current swing voters, it is not going to be by bombarding them with statistics and facts proving that Sarah Palin is not qualified to be in the white house. It is not going to be by telling them how she is setting back the women’s rights movement by half a century, or showing gruesome footage of aerial slaugher endorsed by her. Because all of that doesn’t matter. Sarah Palin is a woman who makes other women feel empowered. She gives them hope.

If we are going to bring back those who have strayed, it is most likely only going to happen by bombarding the people of our country in a way that makes them feel like Sarah Palin clips their wings…makes them feel the need to emotionally detach from her.

How to do this is the subject for another post entirely, but first, I would love to hear what other people think about this. And if you agree, then how should we campaign over the next seven weeks?
--------

This is Sarah Palin-please watch by Debra Sanders

2008-09-12T17:31:00.002-06:00

Everyone needs to watch this. It's short, it's unpleasant, but it's real.

https://secure.defenders.org/site/Donation2?idb=0&df_id=1547&1547.donation=form1&autologin=true&s_src=6JY08WDC4F&s_subsrc=6JY08WDC4F_EJI08D2a

NEWSFLASH :UPDATE ON BOOK! by Debra Sanders

2008-09-11T14:40:00.005-06:00

This is for all you wonderful people out there who have been asking if you can buy the book yet.

The book is in print, yes!!!! (applause, applause, please! :-) BUT, it won't be available for purchase for another 8 weeks. :-(

That's the length of time I need to send copies out to reviewers (newspapers, magazines, etc), to get it listed in distributor's catalogues, to create a marketing program with several affiliates and partners that will be pairing with me to announce the release of the book on a specific day (likely to be between the 24th and 30th of November. I will let you know specifically as soon as I determine which is the best day of the week and date (there is a whole science around this kind of stuff!)

So, my author copies actually came Monday, but it took me until last night to gain the courage to actually open them! I truly did not think I could handle it if something was big-time wrong. Too many melt-downs of late as it is. However, I DID open them and the cover looks great. I am very, very pleased. There are a few other little glitches but I am staying on top of them, and have no doubt that the launch will occur on time!!!!

Thanks to all of you for your support. I'll keep you posted on "launch team" details. Maybe some of you will decide to be on the team itself!!!

:-)debra

Palin's Charm and Popularity Similiar to Middle-Schoolers by Debra Sanders

2008-09-11T13:52:00.007-06:00

Hi bloggers! Thought I would post this letter I found on the Disaboom website today. It's from a resident of Wasilla, the town Sarah Palin was mayor of. It's long...but it is worthy of being read. Very worthy.

And plenty frightening.

http://www.disaboom.com/forums/t/32838.aspx

Must Read Letter on Sarah Palin
Posted: Thu, Sep 11 2008 1:34 AM
I received this in an e-mail:

Subject: Fwd: A must-read letter on Sarah Palin

ABOUT SARAH PALIN

I am a resident of Wasilla, Alaska. I have known Sarah since 1992.Everyone here knows Sarah, so it is nothing special to say we are on a first-name basis. Our children have attended the same schools. Her father was my child's favorite substitute teacher. I also am on a first name basis with her parents and mother-in-law. I attended more City Council meetings during her administration than about 99% of theresidents of the city. She is enormously popular; in every way she like the most popular girl in middle school. Even men who think she is a poor choice and won't vote for her can't quit smiling when talking about her becauseshe is a "babe".

It is astonishing and almost scary how well she can keep a secret. She kept her most recent pregnancy a secret from her children and parents for seven months.She is "pro-life". She recently gave birth to a Down's syndrome baby.There is no cover-up involved, here; Trig is her baby.She is energetic and hardworking.

She regularly worked out at the gym.She is savvy. She doesn't take positions; she just "puts things out there" and if they prove to be popular, then she takes credit.Her husband works a union job on the North Slope for BP and is achampion snowmobile racer. Todd Palin kind of job is highly sought-after because of the schedule and high pay. He arranges his work schedule so he can fish for salmon in Bristol Bay for a month orso in summer, but by no stretch of the imagination is fishing their major source of income.

Nor has her life-style ever been anything like that of native Alaskans. Sarah and her whole family are avid hunters.She's smart.Her experience is as mayor of a city with a populatIon of about 5,000(at the time), and less than 2 years as governor of a state with about 670,000 residents. During her mayoral administration most of the actual work of running this small city was turned over to an administrator.

She had been pushed to hire this administrator by party power-brokers after she had gotten herself into some trouble over precipitous firings which had given rise to a recall campaign.

Sarah campaigned in Wasilla as a fiscal conservative During her 6years as Mayor, she increased general government expenditures by over 33%. During those same 6 years the amount of taxes collected by the City increased by 38%. This was during a period of low inflation(1996-2002). She reduced progressive property taxes and increased a regressive sales tax which taxed even food. The tax cuts that she promoted benefited large corporate property owners way more than they benefited residents.The huge increases in tax revenues during her mayoral administration weren't enough to fund everything on her wish list though, borrowed money was needed, too.

She inherited a city with zero debt, but left it with indebtedness of over $22 million.

What did Mayor Palin encourage the voters to borrow money for? Was it the infrastructure that she said she supported? The sewage treatment plant that the city lacked? or a new library? No. $1m for a park. $15m-plus for construction of a multi-use sports complex which she rushed through to build on a pieceof property that the City didn't even have clear title to, that was still in litigation 7 yrs later--to the delight of the lawyers involved! The sports complex itself is a nice addition to the community but a huge money pit, not the profit-generator she claimed it would be.
(bold and italics mine. ds)

She also supported bonds for $5.5m for road projects that could have been done in 5-7 yrs without any borrowing.While Mayor, City Hall was extensively remodeled and her office redecorated more than once..These are small numbers, but Wasilla is a very small city.

As an oil producer, the high price of oil has created a budget surplus in Alaska. Rather than invest this surplus in technology that wil lmake us energy independent and increase efficiency, as Governor she proposed distribution of this surplus to every individual in the state.In this time of record state revenues and budget surpluses, she recommended that the state borrow/bond for road projects, even whileshe proposed distribution of surplus state revenues: spend today's surplus, borrow for needs.

She's not very tolerant of divergent opinions or open to outside ideas or compromise. As Mayor, she fought ideas that were not generated by her or her staff. Ideas were not evaluated on their merits, but on the basis of who proposed them.While Sarah was Mayor of Wasilla she tried to fire our highly respected City Librarian because the Librarian refused to consider removing fromthe library some books that Sarah wanted removed. City residents rallied to the defense of the City Librarian and against Palin's attempt at out-and-out censorship, so Palin backed down and withdrew her termination letter. People who fought her attempt to oust the Librarian are on her enemies list to this day.

Sarah complained about the old boys when she first ran for Mayor, so what did she bring Wasilla? A new set of "old boys". Palin fired most of the experienced staff she inherited. At the City and asGovernor she hired or elevated new, inexperienced, obscure people,creating a staff totally dependent on her for their jobs and eternally grateful and fiercely loyal--loyal to the point of abusing their powerto further her personal agenda, as she has acknowledged happened in the case of pressuring the State top cop (see below).

As Mayor, Sarah fired Wasillas Police Chief because he intimidated her, she told the press

As Governor, her recent firing of Alaska's top cop has the ring of familiarity about it. He served at her pleasure and she had every legal right to fire him, but it's pretty clear that an important factor in her decision to fire him was because he wouldn't fire her sister's ex-husband, a State Trooper. Under investigation for abuse of power, she has had to admit that more than 2 dozen contacts were made between her staff and family to the person that shelater fired, pressuring him to fire her ex-brother-in-law. She tried to replace the man she fired with a man who she knew had been reprimanded for sexual harassment; when this caused a public furor, she withdrew her support.

She has bitten the hand of every person who extended theirs to her in help. The City Council person who personally escorted her around town introducing her to voters when she first ran for Wasil la City Council became one of her first targets when she was later elected Mayor.

She abruptly fired her loyal City Administrator; even people who didn't like the guy were stunned by this ruthlessness.

Fear of retribution has kept all of these people from saying anything publicly about her.When then-Governor Murkowski was handing out political plums, Sarah got the best, Chair of the Alaska Oil and Gas Conservation Commission: one of the few jobs not in Juneau and one of the best paid. She had nobackground in oil & gas issues. Within months of scoring this great job which paid $122,400/yr, she was complaining in the press about the high salary. I was told that she hated that job: the commute, the structured hours, the work. Sarah became aware that a member of this Commission (who was also the State Chair of the Republican Party) engaged in unethical behavior on the job. In a gutsy move which some undoubtedly cautioned her could be political suicide, Sarah solved all her problems in one fell swoop: got out of the job she hated and garnered gobs of media attention as the patron saint of ethics and as agutsy fighter against the good old boys when she dramatically quit,exposing this mans ethics violations (for which he was fined).

As Mayor, she had her hand stuck out as far as anyone for pork from Senator Ted Stevens. Lately, she has castigated his pork-barrel politics and publicly humiliated him. She only opposed the bridge to nowhere after it became clear that it would be unwise not to.

As Governor, she gave the Legislature no direction and budget guidelines, then made a big grandstand display of line-item vetoing projects, calling them pork. Public outcry and further legislative action restored most of these projects--which had been vetoed simply because she was not aware of their importance--but with the unobservant she had gained a reputation as anti-pork.

She is solidly Republican: no political maverick.

The State party leaders hate her because she has bit them in the back and humiliated them. Other members of the party object to her self-description as a fiscal conservative. Around Wasilla there are people who went to high school with Sarah.They call her Sarah Barracuda because of her unbridled ambition and predatory ruthlessness. Before she became so powerful, very ugly stories circulated around town about shenanigans she pulled to be madepoint guard on the high school basketball team. When Sarah's mother-in-law, a highly respected member of the community and experienced manager, ran for Mayor, Sarah refused to endorse her.

As Governor, she stepped outside of the box and put together a package of legislation known as CNRA that forced the oil companies to march to the beat of her drum.Like most Alaskans, she favors drilling in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.

She has questioned if the loss of sea ice is linked to global warming. She campaigned as a private citizen against a state initiaitive that would have either a) protected salmon streams from pollution from mines, or b) tied up in the courts all mining in thestate (depending on who you listen to). She has pushed the States lawsuit against the Dept. of the Interiors decision to list polar bears as threatened species.

McCain is the oldest person to ever run for President; Sarah will be a heartbeat away from being President.There has to be literally millions of Americans who are more knowledgeable and experienced than she.However, there are lot of people who have underestimated her and are regretting it.

CLAIM VS FACT

Hockey mom= true for a few years

A mom=true years ago when her first-born was in elementaryschool, not since

CNRA supporter: absolutely true

Social conservative: mixed. Opposes gay marriage, BUT vetoed a bill that would have denied benefits to employees in same-sex relationships(said she did this because it was unconsitutional).

Pro-creationism: mixed. Supports it, BUT did nothing as Governor to promote it.

Pro-life= mixed. Knowingly gave birth to a Downs syndrome baby BUT declined to call a special legislative session on some pro-lifelegislation

Experienced=Some high schools have more students than Wasilla has residents.. Many cities have more residents than the state of Alaska.No legislative experience other than City Council. Little hands-onsupervisory or managerial experience; needed help of a city administrator to run town of about 5,000.

A political maverick: not at all

Gutsy: absolutely!

Open & transparent: ??? Good at keeping secrets. Not good at explaining actions.

Has a developed philosophy of public policy= no Turned Wasilla into a wasteland of big box stores and disconnected parking lots.

Is pro-drilling off-shore and in ANWR.

A fiscal conservative: not by my definition!

Pro-infrastructure= No. Promoted a sports complex and park in a city without a sewage treatment plant or storm drainage system. Built streets to early 20th century standards.

Pro-tax relief: Lowered taxes for businesses, increased tax burden 20 onresidents

Pro-small government: No. Oversaw greatest expansion of citygovernment in Wasilla history.

Pro-labor/pro-union. No. Just because her husband works union doesn't make her pro-labor. I have seen nothing to support any claim that she is pro-labor/pro-union.

WHY AM I WRITING THIS?

First, I have long believed in the importance of being an informed voter. I am a voter registrar. For 10 years I put on student votingprograms in the schools. If you google my name (Anne Kilkenny +Alaska), y ou will find references to my participation in local government, education, and PTA/parent organizations.

Secondly, I've always operated in the belief that "Bad things happen when good people stay silent". Few people know as much as I do becausef ew have gone to as many City Council meetings.

Third, I am just a housewife. I don't have a job she can bump me out of. I don't belong to any organization that she can hurt. But, I am no fool; she is immensely popular here, and it is likely that this will cost me somehow in the future: that's life.

Fourth, she has hated me since back in 1996, when I was one of the 100 or so people who rallied to support the City Librarian against Sarah's attempt at censorship.

Fifth, I looked around and realized that everybody else was afraid to say anything because they were somehow vulnerable.

CAVEATS:

I am not a statistician. I developed the numbers for the increase inspending & tax ation 2 years ago (when Palin was running for Governor) from information supplied to me by the Finance Director of the City ofWasilla, and I can't recall exactly what I adjusted for: did I adjustfor inflation? for population increases? Right now, it is impossiblefor a private person to get any info out of City Hall--they areswamped. So I can't verify my numbers.You may have noticed that there are various numbers circulating for thepopulation of Wasilla, ranging from my "about 5,000", up to 9,000. Theday Palin selection was announced a city official told me that the= current population is about 7,000. The official 2000 census count was5,460. I have used about 5,000 because Palin was Mayor from 1996 to2002, and the city was growing rapidly in the mid-90's.

CHECK IT OUT AT SNOPES IF YOU WANT... http://www.snopes.com/politics/soapbox/kilkenny.asp

It seems not everyone in Wasilla is thrilled with SP.

Becky

MCCAIN and WOMEN by Debra Sanders

2008-09-10T09:41:00.004-06:00

I was reading another blog the other day and the question was posed: What issues are important to you in this election?

I figured that's as good a topic to tackle as any, since every issue of importance to me is at risk given the current tilt of the political barometer.

The issues of importance to me are likely the same as those important to most middle class Americans: the economy, education, health care for children and the elderly; equal rights for the disabled and the different, the environment; and of course, the unbelievably arrogant and narcissistic mindset of our current leaders. A mindset which led us into, and has kept us, in Iraq.

I think Obama chose well with Biden, who does indeed balance out his inexperience. This choice communicates to us (at least to me) that Obama understands that his sagacious passions need to be modulated by another's seasoned understanding. It suggests to me that Obama can, and will, hear what his advisors are telling him. And that he will act on those recommendations even if it they are not what he personally wants to hear.

Obama, if he can keep his ego in check and continue to approach politics as a team player (albeit the captain of the team), has a legitimate shot at being an agent of necessary change.

I do not believe the McCain team has a chance in hell of accomplishing this, despite the new "Maverick" platform being touted.

McCain, long known for being a hot head who displays great emotional lability, appears to have a long-standing, deeply rooted disrespect for women. Choosing Palin was brilliant in that it bought him the Dobson crowd and managed to turn quite a number of intelligent, women into groupies giddy with excitement over the idea of a woman in the White House. It was not however what his advisors recommended and it in no way suggests a newfound respect for the female sector.

Sarah Palin is feisty and she is tough; of that there is no doubt. I suspect however that once the last ballot has been tallied, should it be in their favor, McCain will denude her of power to a degree not seen since Hamlin served under Lincoln (if I remember my history correctly...if not, you get the idea). Mr. McCain is 72 years old--we all know that by now. And while I do believe you can teach an old dog new tricks, there is nothing in McCain’s countenance to suggest that he would allow a woman to participate as an intellectual equal.

Sarah Palin is decoration now and she will remain decoration. And that concerns me; just as I am sure it will concern her once the headiness of her meteoric rise to stardom dissipates a bit.

Surely a woman as independent and intelligent as Sarah Palin, must recognize that any potential she has to be an important influence in her state and in this country, is being relinquished by having joined McCain.

Palin's seeming fearlessness, the dynamic and adorable qualities currently applauded, do not stand a chance of holding her up once she sets foot in the oval office as a female puppet that gets to shine only when McCain needs a woman's touch around the house.

Parent and teacher conflicts by Debra Sanders

2008-09-08T10:17:00.005-06:00

I was just involved in a discussion with a young mother angry with her son’s teacher. The gist of it was that the mother felt that the teacher talked down to her and was disrespectful; leaving the mom feeling embarrassed and intimidated. The issue was around her kindergartener’s struggles with adjusting to school. This mom was very angry and was going to go to the principal and speak her mind.

While I applaud this mom’s involvement and her desire to be treated respectfully (as well she should be), over my twenty plus years of working in schools, I saw this scenario repeated too many times. The usual result is the principal will call the teacher in, let them know there has been a complaint and nothing much really changes. In the worst case scenario the teacher gets angry for a complaint being filed and takes even less interest in the child because they don’t want to have to deal with the parent. Generally nothing specific has happened that resolves the intitial issue-- which is that a student is having some sort of difficulty!

I often thought that schools could offer a couple of free workshops for parents at the beginning of the year and then throughout the year. Just a one hour, laid-back kind of thing with refreshments and which targets specific topics. Nothing major, just practical stratgegies for how to advocate successfully for your child; or, how to partner with your child's teacher; even tips on how to help your kids with their homework.

I think most parents would confront a teacher directly if they knew how to do it in a way that wasn’t combative and angry. And I think most parents would help their kids with homework, if they knew exactly what it is they should be doing and how to do it. It’s not so easy knowing how to help your child with their homework, even if the subject is simple addition. We forget that a lot of young parents have not been inside an elementary school since they were a student there!

It seems to me that a one hour chat (always with food and beverage!) would be a small investment for a potentially huge gain. Even if only one or two parents show up, word of mouth, as we all know, is powerful. As is free food! :-)

I just gave this mom three straight forward tips for handling this situation without going to the principal and which are likely to result in developing a partnership with the teacher instead of a stressed relationship. They were simple, but to a young mother with no experience with how to be assertive or how to state what she wants or needs in a way that engages someone rather than alienates them, my three suggestions were like lighting up a dark room for her. She was just blown away and instead of being mad, now she is excited to go back and approach the teacher (she is not going to go to the principal at this time).

Wouldn’t it be nice if this sort of thing were routinely offered in the schools? Think how much more time would be focused on our kids and how everyone's time and energy (parent and teachers both) would be so much more effectively spent.

What do the rest of you out there think? For all I know maybe this IS offered! Let me know your thoughts and experiences.
Debra

Remember Anita?

2008-09-07T23:17:00.025-06:00

(all photos taken from the web, google search for images)

First of all, I have to say that there are many things I respect about Sarah Palin. Were it not for the fact that she is Dr. Dobson in a skirt and dancing with McCain, she would have my vote. She did, after all, take on (and uproot) the deeply rooted, long-seeded good old boys club in Alaska. This is no small feat. I know. I lived there for nearly two decades.

There is truth in the old adage, "A picture is worth a thousand words” and I promised myself I would simply post these photos and let the reading audience draw their own conclusions. No need for me type 500 words of rhetoric when a quick glance says it all. But, I cannot do it. I can’t help it. I find myself compelled to spit out the words that are itching to escape from my finger tips. So here goes:

I respect Palin in that she is feisty as all get-out. When running for Governor, Mrs. Palin was asked what she would do with the state’s new jet. Her reply? “I will figure out the best way to get rid of it.”

And once elected, that is exactly what she did. I applaud that. I applaud that loudly. Clearly, Palin puts her money where her mouth is and she is seemingly unafraid of pissing people off—even very powerful people. Like the media, for example.

Generally speaking, Palin strikes me as a bold, adventuresome, no-nonsense, take-an-ethical-stand kind of woman. The kind of woman I have tried to be for the better part of my life.

And herein resides the rub, because Palin is all those things and she is unafraid to champion for those causes in which she believes. The problem is: nearly everything Sarah Palin believes in, I do not.

Sarah Palin is most definitely dynamic (in keeping with the website...she is indeed a woman with panache); and I fear that this is precisely what makes her so dangerous.

I have been appalled to see women I know, women I respect, giggly with excitement over her nomination. They relate to her, they say. She is real, I am being told. True, she might be a smart beauty queen, they say, but no need to hold that against her because, in the words of one of my dearest neighbors: “I’ll bet she won’t take shit from anyone… especially her husband.” These women, my neighbors whom I adore, are talking about voting for Sarah Palin for no reason other than she is a woman they could imagine in their home.

I spent the better part of this afternoon with my passion in high gear, informing said neighbors that while Palin's persona might indeed be one they feel at home with, her politics reside in outer space relative to theirs. I know the politics of these women. We live on the same street. We’ve had many a discussion over cold margaritas and roasted marshmallows. They support gay rights, they are pro choice; they are women’s rights activists.

“Do you know that Sarah Palin went on record September 1 as supporting McCain’s opposition of the Fair Pay Restoration Act? Are you aware this means she OPPOSES legislating equal pay for women? That she thinks the 180-day limit for filing complaints in unfair wage disputes is a just time period?”

I was not subtle in my stance.There is a reason that The National Organization of Women does not support Sara Palin as the vice presidential choice.

“But she has a child with Down Syndrome. She’ll be really good for kid’s rights, for special needs and stuff. You have to like that.” This from a friend who knows I have spent the better part of the last twenty-five years championing for the rights of kids with special needs.

Truth is, according to the record, Sarah Palin isn’t all that great of a champion for education (she thinks No Child Left Behind is working); nor for kids with special needs (though I’ve no doubt that as Trig nears pre-school age, she will become one). This, from another blog, summarizes it well:
http://www.thehealthcareblog.com/the_health_care_blog/2008/09/where-does-sara.html)

“The Bush Administration in August of 2007 issued a controversial ban on coverage of children in moderate-income families and twice vetoed bills to reauthorize and expand the State Children’s Health Insurance Program. SCHIP is a popular, bi-partisan program. Sixty-eight Senators, including 18 Republicans, voted for the SCHIP reauthorization bill that President Bush vetoed (Senate vote). John McCain, however, stood with the President. (Emphasis my own) So, along with knowing about Sarah Palin’s personal decision to have a child with Down Syndrome, it also would be good know if she agrees with her candidate’s decision to stand with President Bush against expanding the State Children’s Health Insurance Program.”

And from the same blog:

“Palin did not support a bill this year that would have brought Alaska's coverage of children to 200% of the federal poverty level, as 45 states already have done…. Gov. Palin didn't "expand" health insurance by any means. She merely brought children's Medicaid/SCHIP income eligibility levels to current dollar values. In fact her Health Care Strategies Planning Council wasn't even ready to make recommendations on insurance coverage...what health care strategies did she want them to plan? If Gov. Palin can't support expanding coverage in Alaska, will she support expanding coverage for the nation? "

Fair question. In fact, were Palin to waltz into the White House and stand beside her man (McCain, not Todd); families who fall within a middle income bracket will continue to struggle to get health care for their children with special needs.

This from a woman in Ohio, who has a nine year old daughter with Down syndrome: (http://www.thehealthcareblog.com/the_health_care_blog/2008/09/where-does-sara.html

“…our income is several thousand less than 75k per year. As a matter of fact, we were less than $200 away from Medicaid eligibility! …My daughter has no option of private healthcare, since she has a genetic condition. The group plan I was part of when she was born did not want to continue full coverage on her because the medical bills were so extensive. We ARE a working class income family, we both work hard to provide, yet we have NO ACCESS to healthcare for our daughter. Her medical bills would astound you…. (we) pay $100 for 20 min of speech therapy, $22,000 bill for a 6 day hospital stay……”

For this woman, and many other families with children who are medically fragile, the thought of Sarah Palin in the white house—regardless of her newly born child with special needs—is a frightening thought. Only North Dakota ranks lower in its State Children’s Health Insurance Program than Alaska. Considering that Alaska has one of the highest fetal alcohol rates in the country, and that in 2002 it was estimated that the average lifetime cost for a person diagnosed within the Fetal Alcohol Spectrum is about two million dollars, it seems to me that satisfactory health care coverage for children would be a lot more important to take on than say...oh, shooting wolves from airplanes in order to have more moose and caribou to hunt.

Shame on Alaska’s governor. North Dakota’s too.

There are so many more things I could point out (and did point out to my neighbors) that upset me about this woman, but I am appalled to see that I have already spouted off, not 500 words, but nearly 1300. So I shall say no more (though I sure do want to!).

Oh, but before I go, let me just say one more thing. Think critically, please! Make it a point to be informed and to inform your neighbors…though of course, remember to do it with a bit of panache!

A Matter of Panache by Debra Sanders

2008-09-06T23:53:00.010-06:00

I am one of those people who thinks we all need to do a little bit better when it comes to avoiding the ease and trappings that accepting mediocrity brings. I am a fervent supporter of those who take a stand in effort to make things better for our planet and its no-legged, four-legged, two-legged, winged, single-celled, multi-celled, green, red, black, brown and white inhabitants.

I am also one who has deep respect for those individuals who can do this while demonstrating a little bit of panache, because I’ve learned that displaying passion without panache doesn’t accomplish much.

Not everyone has panache. Genuine panache is kind of like having good skin when you’re sixteen—it’s a remarkable blessing. Not that you’re any less of a person because you don’t have clear skin; it’s just a whole lot easier to get a date if you don’t have to contend with a face covered with obvious blemishes and eruptions.

So it is with panache. If you have it, things in life are just easier. Doors seem to open a little faster, and you can go places and do things that would require a lot more work than if you have, say, a personality that’s kind of.... oily and....you know, inflammatory.

Most of us have met someone during our lifetime with panache. I’m not referring to slick politicians or evangelists who display a kind of practiced and rehearsed (albeit intense and very compelling) sort of magnetism; but rather to the sort of person who displays the kind of genuine charm that turns reluctant bystanders into an avid participants…who seems to inspire affection while fighting for the right things to happen. The person who can advocate for the underdog without coming across like a martyr.

Julia Roberts, as Erin Brockovitch, was a good example of someone with panache. You couldn’t help but like her.

This blog is dedicated to offering people the chance to speak up regarding things they feel passionate about: public education, health care, disability rights, diversity, animal rights, the environment, brain injuries, children, the elderly, kindness. Whatever. But hopefully it’s to be more than a sanctuary with a pulpit from which we each emote, for many of those are already in place.

Here at A Matter of Panache, I hope to create a community where we also learn how to more effectively channel our passions in ways that brings about true reform; a place where we can be both teachers and learners in the art of being, not just passionate, but productively passionate.

So, speak up. Are you one of those individuals who have inspired change—be it within yourself, neighborhood, city or planet? What have been your successes? Where did you go wrong?

Or tell of someone who has impacted you; someone displaying a bit of panache that we can all learn from.

Because when it comes right down to it, I think it’s about more than just being passionate. It’s about displaying our passions in ways that embrace rather than alienates. It's about championing our causes in ways that draw others in and lights the way, making it safer for them to ride our bandwagons.

It's about having both passion and a little bit of panache.