Expose'- the gift of triggers | Exposing Abuse in Nursing Homes

What’s wrong with this Picture?

How nostalgic was my first thought as I glanced over to a mug sitting on the counter in the work station that I shared with my boss, Joanne. The mug had a picture of a little girl surrounded by chickens. The inscription on the mug read, "Happy 100th. Birthday Madeline." We had just celebrated one of our resident's 100th. birthday last week. How nice, I thought, Joanne must have had this made for Madeline. Without much more thought, I continued on with my work.

Several times over the course of the next couple days I found myself picking up this mug and starring at it. Although there was a warm and fuzzy feeling of nostalgia there was something amidst. I found myself continually looking at the chickens in this picture. There was something about this picture that kept drawing my attention to it, but I could not put my finger on it.

On Thursday morning Joanne came around the corner with the mug in her hand and said, “Hey, did you see this mug? Isn't this a riot!” I looked at her a little puzzled thinking, It's nostalgic, forgive if you will but, I'm not exactly seeing the humor. The expression on my face must have said it all. She looked at me again, and exclaimed. “It's Madeline! This is an actual picture of Madeline when she was a little girl. Her son had it printed on the mug and gave it to me.” “Oh my God,” I said, stretching my arm out to take the mug. “Let me see.” She handed me the mug. Little did I know that reaching my hand out would be the last connection to this present moment that I would remember.

Reliving the Nightmare to make the repairs...

The very second my hand touched the mug, everything went haywire, It was instantaneous, like someone had just flipped a switch. The movie camera began to role as chunks of vivid imagery began to rush through my mind. Madeline became Arnie; He was crawling towards me. Dust was flying, chickens were scurrying. I could feel my insides begin to tremble. Shivers were running up my spine. I happened to glance down at my arms and noticed the hair on my arm was literally standing straight up as if it was full of electricity. Another image flashed, he looked up at me from the ground, his eyes crossed, crooked teeth, drool dripping from his chin and his arm reaching out trying to grab me. Feeling frozen, not knowing what to do, I just stood there.

Once again the past had managed to creep over the threshold grasping my thought process with its ugly claws discoloring my perceptions while creating confusion between what once was and what is now.

Oh my God don't tell me Madeline was punished and made to stay in the chicken coop with the chickens when she was a little girl. This was my very first thought upon returning to the present moment.

My perceptions of this seemingly wonderful nostalgic picture had just been altered, no longer were there warm feelings of nostalgia.

Coming in for a landing and getting a grip on myself. I could feel my face was flush and clammy. My heart was still beating, like a herd of galloping stallions. It felt as though my heart was going to come through my chest. Feeling a tad overwhelmed with sadness, I began to wonder if my emotions were penetrating the surface. Judging by the look on Joanne's face, I guess this was one of those instances that required an explanation. Having shared much of my past with Joanne, I looked at her and said. “Sorry, I guess it threw me back in time.” This picture had suddenly taken on an entirely different meaning. Before I could look at this picture and think of it as a warm nostalgic picture. “Once you told me the little girl in the picture was Madeline everything changed”. Having identified the little girl with a name instantly transported me back to my childhood.

I looked at Joanne, “Sorry, I guess my thought process had shifted from nostalgia to abuse. I was wondering if Madeline was being punished or was she just made to stay outside with the chickens in the coop”.

She started to laugh and said, “Oh no, no. Madeline grew up in Manchester, this picture was taken while they were visiting a farm.”

Oh, “Thank God!”, I said as I exhaled a rather large breath. Joanne, nodded for me to sit down as she drew my chair closer. Still holding the mug in my hand, I glanced down at it and began to explain. “When I was younger I used to go to this house with my friend Maureen, who was friends, with this girl named Bonnie. Bonnie had a severely mentally challenged brother named Arnold, whom they referred to as Arnie. Arnie was physically disabled as well. During the daytime, Arnie was kept outside in a fenced in area with the chickens. He crawled around in the dirt and chicken poop, kicking up the dust and sending the chickens scurrying around him.

In order to get to the front door of this house you had to open the gate on the fence and walk through this area.

In Arnie’s excitement and over zealousness to see someone he would immediately begin to crawl towards you at an accelerated speed. Dust would be flying, chickens would be scurrying and squawking and Arnie would be looking up at you through his crossed eyes and slanted grin. In his effort to communicate grunting sounds emerged from his mouth while drool began to run down his chin. Arnie would always reach out trying to grab you as you walked by. As a small child it was a frightening and disturbing experience.

Connecting the feelings the body still wears..

Wherever you go there you are..

The next couple of days were as to be expected.

Just like always, it takes a few days to shake off the residual lingering feelings; usually connecting to the body for the first time.

The process slowly begins to unravel. After days of peeling back the layers and taking a good look at the absurdity; penetration slowly begins to seep in, Realizations of how bizarre the reality of what once was, really is, becomes unshakable for the moment. But it is only for the moment cause it takes many years and hundreds of realizations to plant itself firmly so that new roots can be established.

Having relived and experienced memories, via triggers (PTSD), thorough a good part of my adult life. It has never ceased to amaze me that in the moment of the experience logic is never accessible. Like a person with dementia it's always the first time for no two triggers are ever the same. You are always caught off guard. Each new memory presents itself in an entirely unique fashion. Not to mention, the level of intensity, that follows The process of stepping back and sifting through the aftershock, is the only thing that remains the same. After many years of utilizing this process it has finally become second nature.

Finally, Finally, I get to see, feel and validate the bizarre reality as it really was. As a child I always had a sense that things were not right however, everyone around me appeared normal, acting as if everything was fine. It's always in instances like this that I get one step closer to realizing, just how crazy the world really is. There is nothing wrong with me for seeing it the way it is. I no longer have to change my perceptions to fit in with the rest of the world.

Having been awhile since I was last triggered. I thought there was nothing left. After going through this process once again, I suddenly realized why I am where I am.

Several years ago I took on this job as an Activity Assistant in a nursing home. On the contrary it was quite the opposite of any work related position that I have ever held. However, after being unemployed for several years and not being able to depend on my freelance work, my girlfriend Joanne insisted that I give it a try. What did I have to loose. I agreed to give it a try. After a couple of months of painting nails and serving coffee and toast I began to bang my head up against the wall wondering how in the hell did I end up here. Although, I enjoyed the relationships that I had developed with the elderly patients immensely and found it somewhat rewarding, it was not really my cup of tea. However, there was a feeling, a gut level feeling that compelled me to say. I trusted that feeling to see where it might take me. I knew there had to be more of a reason that I ended up in this position.

It didn't take long to see the reality before my eyes, the very few employees that took notice and the ones that closed their eyes to everything around them. Residents learn quickly who they can trust.

I had been there 3 months and had written up three incident reports; that is here say by the residents confiding in me and telling me of neglect and / or abusive situations I strive to make things better for the residents, focusing on providing quality service, compassion and understanding. My boss Joanne, has been one that goes above and beyond the call of duty to ensure the residents receive proper treatment. She is truly an advocate for the residents, continually confronting one situation after another on behalf of the residents. She is definitely an outsider to the entire staff and is treated so. I must say I was not far behind her. I believed I was learning from the best.

I was there for a reason...

I had known for sometime that I was there for a reason. I just didn't know what that reason was. Somewhere during the course of my recovery. I learned through trial and error to never questions the why’s in life. I learned if I just let go and place whatever it may be in the back of my mind and be patient sooner or later the answers would present themselves. I still hold fast to this process today for it never ceases to amaze me.

Since I experienced this most recent trigger my mind had been racing on fast forward once again. The story was unfolding in my mind faster than I could muster up the courage to put it down on paper. For some unknown reason I can always see the beginning and the end. It's all the stuff that lies in between that scares the hell out of me. In order to get from the beginning to the end I must revisit many memories that got me where I am today.

On some level I know that I am much stronger today and have been desensitized to the memories that once held me hostage and paralyzed me with fear. Therefore, they shouldn't have the same impact or hold on me that they once had..

Getting back to the realization of why I was here. Since I had taken on this job I was exposed on a daily basis to incidents of neglect, abuse and / or lack of compassion for the residents. Typical characteristics that exist in many nursing homes at one time or another. Not to say that it's all bad cause like the rest of life there is a lot of warm and tender moments in between.

Abuse and / or Neglect in Nursing Homes | What would you call it?

Imagine, if you will for one minute, sitting on a bed pan and having your dinner tray delivered to you. What? Did you suddenly loose your appetite?

You are now suppose to eat and relieve yourself at the same time. Why? Simply because it would take to much time to wait for you to finish and then the aides would have to reheat your food and possibly have to return your tray to the kitchen cause the dinner tray cart has left the unit.

I thought I was going to lose it the first time that I witnessed this. What was even worse was I witnessed an aide arguing with a resident’s family member who had brought some home made food in for her mother. The daughter noticing that her mother’s curtain was drawn closed and knew that she was on the bed pan, chose to wait outside her room. Standing in the doorway with the food in her hand, she was approached by one of her mother’s aides.” You know", exclaimed her aide, “You really ought to feed her while she’s on the bed pan cause she’s going to be there for a while.” The family member replying through gritted teeth said “No, I prefer to wait.” The aide clueless to the situation continued one more time, “It’s o.k. she does it all the time.”

Furious, I went to talk to my boss. Her reply was,"ugh! I remember the first time I witnessed that". Her head drooping down in disgust. She sat down in the chair, resting her elbows on her lap and placing her hands over her face. As if she was awakening from a bad dream, Joanne lifted her head and began shaking her pixie style hair with her hands. Looking directly at me and speaking through gritted teeth she said. “I ranted and raved for days. for weeks to no avail It fell on death ears. With a partially painstaking, -shameful and remorse stricken expression on her face she replied, “ I hate to say it but this is a pretty standard practice around here.” I knew immediately, if Joanne couldn’t move any mountains or shed any light. I sure as hell would not be able to.

How inhumane is this? Anyone who owns a cat knows not to put the litter pan in the same room as their food cause they won’t eat.

It was scenes like this that I encountered on a daily basis that have triggered me back reflecting on the insanity of my past. and has prompted me to write this article.

Today Expose' was born. They say to write what you know. Insane moments would be a good place to start as there is no shortage of those. However, there seems to be an underlying theme that is presently triggering me back to my past. The theme that I’m speaking of is feeling crazy. I feel so crazy like I’m the only one that sees what is really happening. Everyone else goes about their business never questioning or intervening when it’s necessary. And acting as if everything is normal. But then again what is normal? I continue to find myself in situations where denial runs rampant and discolors the truth.

I no longer have the ability to wear the blinders that others wear. Today, although I continue to experience moments where I feel crazy I know that I am not. The difference being I have developed awareness and the tools necessary to discern between what I refer to as, “The contrast between the two worlds.” It’s the same world that I couldn’t accept when I was a child growing up.

As a child growing up in a dysfunctional family where feelings were not allowed and reality was never acknowledged. I learned at a very early age how to blend in like a chameleon continually changing my perceptions and readjusting to the environment to be accepted and to live by the golden rule that is, never ever ask questions.

Today I allow myself to be honest; to live freely in the world where my perceptions are what they appear to be. I have the ability to accept and believe what I see is real. I continue to struggle at times with my spontaneity, not speaking outwardly as freely as I’d like. On the other hand I believe that I have developed a healthy balance., choosing when to speak and when to hold back. Knowing first hand that speaking out all the time would be more of a disservice to me.

I believe this is one of the characteristics that I love the most about my good friend and boss, Joanne, She is truly an authentic individual. When it comes to expressing herself she is spontaneous. She clearly speaks the truth, expressing herself freely not caring what the other person thinks.

What is Normal?

Whether you are placed in a chicken coop with the chickens or put on a bed pan while being served your dinner, being exposed to this on a daily basis just becomes the norm when there is no intervention. Abuse will always be abuse.  From emotional, negligence to physical and sexual.

Living with PTSD for much of my adult life and having triggers that ignite out of nowhere, has given me the ability to relive and question. This is the first time in my life that I am seeing triggers as a gift. For up until now they have been nightmares, demons so to speak that made me wonder if I was possessed.

Throughout my recovery, I have found that if I dug deep enough or searched long and hard enough I could always find a thread that I could hold onto; a thread that in some small meaningful way would reflect upon something positive and serve a purpose.

Finally after so many years of dealing with PTSD, experiencing triggers, flashbacks etc. I have once again found that tiny thread that allows me solace, knowing that there is underlying meaning that brings me peace and comfort.

So what exactly is the gift of triggers, you might be asking yourself?

The gift lies in the sorting out process of the triggers. The differentiating of what once was, versus what is now; the reconstructing of the past and the closure.

The gift is the ability to see things from an entirely new perspective; to discern the difference and recognize what is really, "wrong with this picture". The gift is trusting yourself enough to believe that your perceptions are accurate. You are not crazy!

My experience has been that with each new flashback another memory that was previously disconnected has come home. One more piece reunited and healed. (In my case, as in many survivors of abuse, dissociative symptoms, seems to overlap with the PTSD which tends to complicate matters even more.)

Whether exposing the madness of the reality that exists in the present moment that others may not seem to notice, or the madness of the reality that has held me captive to a life of despair and isolation, either way my purpose is the same:

I hope and pray that when all is said and done, my story will shed light, insight, hope and permission to those who have suffered in silence; that they may escape their personal hells and reclaim their lives in triumph.

Article(C)2010 Sage Williams. All rights reserved.

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Comments 25 comments

prettydarkhorse profile image

prettydarkhorse 6 years ago from US

nice share and past could be a bad expereince, we learn to let go, HUGS, Sage, Take care always, Maita

Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

Maita, Wow, that was fast, I no sooner published this and you were reading and commenting. Thanks, it is greatly appreciated!


akirchner profile image

akirchner 6 years ago from Central Oregon

I always say about abuse that it is the 'gift that keeps on giving' and it is true - you can't control where your mind takes you sometimes but as you say, sometimes reliving it in a little chunk, relooking at it and then putting it back on the shelf helps. I sometimes dream things and remember incidents but somewhere in the dream I USUALLY am able to tell myself somehow 'it's just a dream, Audrey - it or they can't hurt you so just look at it, then wake up'. Your story is unique only to you - and so glad you are doing something SO positive from the negative!

Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

akirchner - I love what you said, "I always say about abuse that it is the 'gift that keeps on giving' and it is true"

I have never heard it put so beautifully. You're absolutely right! So glad that you read my little story and am happy that you understood it so clearly.

Your comment meant the world to me, thanks so very much.


Micky Dee profile image

Micky Dee 6 years ago

Health-care is so expensive. We accept this. It is reality. But money is shoved to athletes, rock stars, movie stars, the stock market, etc. I guess I sound, perhaps I'm a socialist, at least in this way: Everybody should help dig the ditch, shovel the manure, serve in the armed forces (in some manner), and care for our people. Thanks for a great hub!

Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

Micky Dee, thanks so much for reading and commenting. I agree with you 100%. It's appalling and there are no excuses for this. The elderly are at our mercy and our so vulnerable. They deserve the best.

Thanks so much,


prettydarkhorse profile image

prettydarkhorse 6 years ago from US

Hey Sage, I am always fast see how manya rticles I have written, hehe, I am just amused at how you want to hel others overcome the triggers and the demons that it brings -- Thanks and night, Maita

Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

Your pretty amazing. Thanks once again.


Pamela99 profile image

Pamela99 6 years ago from United States

Sage, I envy your unique style of writing and the honesty you describe in your recovery. I was not sexually abused as a child but I am a survivor of mental and physical abuse. I have never said this before on Hubpages. I experienced PTSD also. It has been a long time now and I have learned to trust my instincts like that little feeling inside when you know you need to follow a certain path. Maybe your courage will help me tell my story in the near future. This is an excellent hub.

Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

Pamela - Your comments are genuinely heartfelt. Thank you so much for your kind words, support and validation. I have met so many different survivors, from all walks of life. They seemed to have a very strong trait; they are all very beautiful people.

Thanks so much for your honesty and for having the courage to acknowledge your abuse. You have taken a very big step by sharing this in your comment with me.

Thanks so much for doing so. I hope and pray that you will no longer silence yourself and give your pain a voice. I have learned that each and every time I have spoken out verbally or through my writing brings more healing.

May you continue to listen to your instincts and no longer silence those whispers.

Hugs to you,


BEAUTYBABE profile image


Dearest Sage,

You do possess the unique way of expressing yourself through your writing. I was abused at a younger and then older age. I am now starting to recover, but it has taken a long time. I see through your hub, you have received the right treatment and you have grown from this to be a survivor. You have learned to trust your instincts, it is amazing just how much that old "gut feeling" is right.

I have told my story in bits and pieces, but have never brought it all out in the light. It is not the easiest thing to come to terms with is it, but it is even harder to express what really happened. The hardest thing is finding a light in all of this and seeing your way along the path of recovery.

It sounds like you have, through the proper care and treatment done this, but I can tell also that you are still healing and will for some time to come.

I know what you are talking about when you refer to "Triggers" only too well, as I too had to put up with those. But, in a way they seemed to help because at least then you have somewhere to start on your journey back and you start to learn how to put the puzzle pieces that you can't find meaning for,that are going through your head into perspective.

Listening to your instincts and following them can make all the difference in surviving something as traumatic as any form of abuse. Your story is a true testament to this, so please believe in this and live by it and you will go on winning this battle in your life and winning the WAR in the end. I have every faith in you Sage, so you have it in YOURSELF as well. I look forward to hearing more from you God Bless you love Beautybabe x

Stanley_19802 profile image

Stanley_19802 6 years ago

Hello Sage,

It really is sad what people do to the elderly. Just because a person is old, or maybe has lost some touch with reality is not a excuse to treat them with disrespect. I worked security for a few years. I loved working the assisted living homes. I have always loved to help people any way I could. I remember this one night in particular. I got a call from a woman who swore a man was coming into her apartment through the central AC vent and stealing her dresses. She honestly believes this. I came in, did some looking around. Found that on the other side of this vent was a small storage room. So I unlocked it and showed the woman that no one was in there. And that I would make a few extra rounds to make sure no one was around her apartment. She calmed down, thanked me and went back in her apartment. My shift ended a little after midnight. The problem was, the guard that showed up just ticked me off. He showed up with his shirt untucked. Not because he was waiting to get on duty to tuck it in, but because he didn't care. He didn't fix it even when his shift started. I tried to explain to him about the woman. He didn't care. He said it wasn't his job to baby sit anyone. It just made me angry. It was very clear he just didn't care about his job and was only there for the cash. He told me he was going to "kick it" it the back room till his shift was over. I refused to give the kid the keys and called my supervisor and explained the situation. The supervisor showed up and made him fix his uniform. The next day, I did something were are not supposed to do, but felt I needed to. I talked to the client directly. That's a very big no no. I explained to her this officer and asked she request him to be removed from her site to protect the residents. She explained to me if she removed him, then she would need to remove me. I wasn't sure why, but I quickly responded with "if I need to leave along with the other guard to keep these residents safe, then I will". I didn't care what happened to me. I just kept thinking of where this kid would be if a call came in from a resident who fell or had some other emergency. He was removed, and I was transfered to a different assisted living home. I felt I did the right thing. That was the start of my job as a security officer. The last site I worked may have ended my job for who knows how long. I had just moved and signed up with the local security company, at the time it was Pinkerton. I had been working security for almost 3 1/2 years. At first working with them I was hopping from site to site as a floater before I was given a full time site. It was a mental health center with a 3 ward psych ward. I knew the danger of working there however it was the only site that was open. The same day I asked for a transfer as soon as a new site opened. 6 months later and still no transfer. It was really taking a toll on me. As a child I was in and out of psychiatric hospitals as a punishment by my mom. Anytime I messed up and made her mad, she would call the children's psychiatric hospital and tell them I was suicidal. I was always taken no questions asked every single time. The site was a very big problem. Every day working there was bringing up what happened. Every single time I was called to put someone in restraints, I had nightmares about it that night. Then I a kid came in. He's from a group home and apparently is dropped off there as a time out till the kid calms down and then is returned to the group home. Didn't make sence to me. When he was throwing his shoes in fustraightion I was ordered to handcuff him. Even though I put them on very loose, I hated what I was told to do. When I got home, I broke down in tears. I was hatting my job. Then the night that changed things happened. A mom showed up with a child about 7 years old. She dropped him off because he was "hyper". He was going to be sent to Sacramento and probably was going to end up on ritalin. His mom walked out the door with the boy crying and begging not to be left there. Saying "sorry mom, I will be good. I will be good". I instantly flashed on my admission in 1990 when I was 10. I remember saying very similar words to my own mom. I was then ordered to take the boy to the secure holding area. Then the boy kept trying to figure out the code to open the locked door. I was then ordered to put him in restraints. It was a order I was hoping wouldn't be asked of me. I walked him into the room, him crying. I remember his eyes. Pure fear. He was laid on his back and another staff brought in the bag with the leather restraints. The problem was, it was a adult psych ward. The restraints were too large. So a staff member got kotex pads to take up the space. The whole time the boy was fighting and begging to be let to go home. I had to leave the room. I couldn't keep my emotions in check any longer. I let myself out of the locked door and headed for the bathroom stall. I fell apart. I was able to keep things together till my shift was over. I went home and totally feel apart. Everything hit me at once. It was like my hospital stays were so clear it was like they happened yesturday. I got a call the next morning, I was told not to go in. I knew what was going to happen. And yea, I was fired. Things got worse fast. I attepted suicide and was in the one place I didn't want to be. When I refused a strip search by a gay staff member (he told me he was gay while I was working there, not that I had a issue with that). I didn't feel comfortable being nakid in front of him. I asked to wait for a different staff. He came back with 4 other guys and I was dragged to the restraint room and tied down. 2 hours later the gay staff member came back in to check me. I wear diapers due to a spinal injury a staff member gave me during a psych stay when I was 16. During the time there, I had managed to keep my need to wear diapers a secret. The staff were a bit shocked as they had no idea. Anyway, the diaper was pretty wet and he said he was going to change it. I told him no, to leave me alone. He didn't listen. He undid my pants and took them down and began to change me. I was horrified. I couldn't stop him. All I could do was close my eyes and wait for it to be over. Not only did he not even clean the area before putting on the new diaper, but he didn't even use a diaper. They used chucks, pads similar to paint soakers you put down to protect the carpet. He laid one across my waist, and the other between my legs and pulled up my pants and left. I didn't see anyone for another 12 hours. Because he used chucks, they couldn't handle the amount of urine. By the time I was let up, I was laying in a 2 inch deep pool of urine. I had to go on disability. Between the time I worked there, and the stay that followed, I couldn't handle it. I was having several nightmares at night that kept me from sleeping.And flashbacks that made it very hard to get much done, let alone work. I have been on disability since 2002. Sometimes, the nightmares and flashbacks are bearly able to handle. It's like being hurt, violated or scared over and over again. One of the hospitals has been torn down, but in the nightmares and flashbacks, the hospital, and the abusive staff are alive and well and back to hurt me again night after night. That's what's so bad about abuse. The effects are life long. Long after the abuser in reality is in jail or has passed away. I am sorry this comment is long. It's nice to find others with the same problem. But very sad that another person has been abused. Take care of yourself Sage. Be well.


Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

Stanley - Thanks so much for going the extra mile for this elderly woman. You are an incredibly strong person with a heart of gold.

My heart goes out to you for all the pain, suffering and unspeakable horrors that you have endured. I am at a loss for words.

May you find peace and comfort on your journey through healing.

Hugs to you,


prettydarkhorse profile image

prettydarkhorse 6 years ago from US

I came back to let you know that when I was reading about a nursing home, I remember this hub of yours, caring for others, Have a good day, maita

Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

Maita, you are so sweet. Thanks so much for thinking of this hub and taking the time to write again.

Hugs to you,


Dolores Monet profile image

Dolores Monet 6 years ago from East Coast, United States

Sage, it never ceases to amaze me how casually cruel people can be and often to the people who love them the most. You said a lot here, about PYSD, about family dysfunction, and about how hard it can be for kids who grow up with this crap to understand what normal is. Thank you for your 'sage' wisdom and putting your heart right up for all to share.

Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

Dolores - What a truly endearing comment you have left. It's situations like these that makes me feel nuts!! For me writing is the only way to deal with it. It has been a way of life. Feedback, plays a critical role as well and is very much appreciated. Your comment means the world to me.

Many thanks,


Tammy Lochmann profile image

Tammy Lochmann 6 years ago

Sage...Keep doing what you are doing. You have been sent to that home for a reason. I know that's why I do what I do. You'll know when it's time for you to move on. I really empathize with you. You write so beautifully.

itakins profile image

itakins 6 years ago from Irl

Thenk you Sage-What a good hub.

Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

Tammy, So good to see you, I've been really enjoying your writing. Thanks for stopping by and commenting.

Unfortunately, I am no longer at this home. It took it's toll and I ended up leaving. I was continually being triggered by situations and no matter how hard I fought or wrote up individuals it feel upon death ears. They would get a slap on the wrist and be back to work the following day.

Day after day, I felt as though I was up against the inevitable.

I thank god for the wonderful nurses in this forum such as yourself.

Thanks so much for your wonderful comment. Like always, it is genuinely heartfelt.


Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

Iatkins - thanks for taking the time to stop by, read and comment.


DustinsMom profile image

DustinsMom 6 years ago from USA

Wow. I could feel myself right there with you as I read this hub. You really have a great style of writing, right from the heart. PTSD comes in so many different forms. I hope you are able to find peace in your writing. It is helping me and I have only just begun reading.

Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

DustinsMom - I am so happy that you are finding my writing helpful. As I recall during my years of healing there were other authors that helped me along the way.

Writing has always been a way of escaping the craziness that I have experienced. I was able to sort things out through my writing.

In my opinion, writing is the absolute best form of therapy. Just getting stuff out of your head and onto paper is a release. It no longer consumes you, you take the power away.

I also was under the guidance of a very professional therapist and belonged to several support groups. I hope that you continue to write and reach out to get the help that you need.

Hugs to you,


Carol Ende 6 years ago

Help us grow the Eden Alternative in other organizations

Vote for our $250,000 grant proposal "Refresh and transform 5 nursing homes." You can vote each day.

Here is the link: http://www.refresheverything.com/transform5nursing...

Start spreading the news to your friends and family and have them vote for the Eden Alternative idea every day throughout November. They can now vote by mobile phone too using your unique text-to-vote code, available on our idea page.

Voting ends the last day of this month so there's no time to lose.

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Sage Williams 6 years ago Author

Carol Ende- I wish the Eden Alternative was the answer. All the nursing homes that I worked in had implemented the Eden Alternative. Sage

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