G’day to my girlfriends on the “Girl in the pink wheelchair” From the Aussie woman in the purple one

G’day girls, I write a blog called http://www.disabledaccessdenied.com It was started on january 4th 2011 on the advice of my wife, (yes girls I said wife I am a fifty something gay woman married to a beautiful gay woman) you see before I was in this purple beauty I was a martial arts champion in four different arts and I took rubbish verbally from noone but after my first year with wheels under me and the constant disrespect I got from bored teens who thought everything from tipping to standing and blocking my way was funny my wife advised me to choose a good defense attorney or start telling the world I chose he latter.
My first day nobody told me others could read this thing called a blog, I thought it was the computer version of the diary I kept under my mattress when I was young. The first day 40 people read my first piece called DISABLED NOT DISCARDED, the first month 500 wow I was famous I thought.

I wrote about all the horrible people that gave me a hard time each day, and after about fifty posts I asked my best friend a highly realized Buddhist monk what he thought of my writing. He thought a while and then said quietly “If you must throw this ongoing pity party at least hire a caterer!” wow I would have yelled at him but someone does not yell at someone who has the dalai lamas phone number in his I-phone so I bit my tongue and thought about it

A week later I had the realization that as a disabled woman if this discrimination happened to me every day, who was I to think that I was the only person with wheels under me in the world that it was happening to and I either started writing for the benefit of all or called that caterer again wisely chose the later.

Today my blog has on average 250-270,000 regular readers in over 100 countries , well girls through my writing careers as an advocate, a journalist and now a published author have come to be. As the realization taught me those 3 years and 3,000 stories ago If it’s happening to me It’s happening to all of us so please check out my blog and let me know if there is anyway I can put my readership at your disposal to help a worthy cause

your friend in the purple chair Mia G vayner and my faithful service dog Zeus


Yeah today is siblings day let’s celebrate yeah aren’t siblings wonderful?

Today my facebook, my twitter and my brain have been bombarded with memes and pictures so sweet they send diabetics into coma with verbal vomit about the beauty of the siblings relationship yeah lucky us!

Not all siblings are wonderful, when I was five my older sibling started raping me with objects until his body kicked in and he could take over the deed himself . When I tried to tell the first time, he broke my nose and my cheekbones and eye socket, the second time he broke my arm.
He used to swap out my tegretol with Quaalude and tell my mom I was dopey because I had had a seizure, if there were injuries I must have fell during a seizure and he was a loving brother for saving me. When I got too big and tried to tell he drugged me and took me to a party where I was the party favor then he moved onto my baby sister . I tried to tell my older sibling and he beat me up, I told my older sister and she turned her back on me so I told my oldest sister and she left the family and never came back and I blamed myself because I sent her away.
I later found out our father trained my brother on them, so In my Family my siblings either molested me or turned their back on me . So I told my mother who knew the whole time and turned her back because she thought the world would judge her and she called me a disgusting lying horrible sick child and I wondered why then I found out she had about 9 siblings when my birth father tried to kill her so many time with his hands and feet.
One of her siblings slept with her husband another turned his back because good christian women stay in the marriage and she must have deserved the beating. The brother who she worshiped did nothing and the half sister ignored her. The other brother hung out with the child molesting wife beating ex even after the divorce and he had seen the proof of what the bastard done and whom he done it to. Siblings? Can’t live with them and sometimes your lucky to survive them.
Hallmark needs to stop inventing these bullshit celebrations to make a buck, because if they knew anything about PTSD or flashbacks or nightmares they’d know it’s bullshit days like this when they make some of us feel like freaks and bad people because we hate our siblings,.

No I’m not making it up, I am friends now with the children of some of my uncles and aunts and they don’t all speak to their siblings and parents so maybe it was in the DNA.
I loved some of my uncles and Aunts, but hey I didn’t have to grow up with them or live with them or play the dutiful child to them so it was easy.

To my friends can I ask a favor next time you can’t fight the urge to build a syrupy meme screaming the wonders of mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters and children from the mountain top say MY what ever are wonderful don’t book a guilt trip for the rest of us by saying IF YOU LOVE THE WOMEN WHO GAVE BIRTH TO YOU POST THIS , OR AREN’T SIBLING SIMPLY ANGELS SENT FROM HEAVEN?
Post it to your wall simply tell us your family is cool because declaring that every sibling on earth is heaven sent is a huge assumption without any basis in fact.

PTSD treatment, sometimes the cure is worse than the disease

Sitting home today, just over 24 hours since my second therapy session with my new doctor, and all my friends are saying” congratulations MIA hope it helps” I suppose eventually it might help, the doctor has been honest with me and it will take a very long time.

The part that nobody gets is, therapy for PTSD is a sick dichotomy because you’re there because of what happened to you and the horrors and nightmares they have caused sometimes as in my case decades later and yet to start treatment you have to relive them in minute detail all over again. It’s kind of like shooting a gunshot victim all over again to heal the original gun shot. I mean I’ve heard of the hair of the dog, but it would have been nice if someone warned how vicious the dog was.

No one tells you when they talk about PTSD about the sitting straight up in the middle of the night screaming, noone ever mentioned that when your brain isn’t busy for just a second the memories jump in and the hell ever called them nightmares because I can tell you you don’t have to be asleep and it doesn’t have to be night time. Suddenly every TV show I loved to watch is too hard ,every cop show is a memory every movie about child abuse has me leaving the room it’s like the past has repossessed your soul molestation is the only crime where even when it’s over it gets to victimize you over and over again for life. It’s like the ground hog day from hell but no-ones laughing.

Even now as I type memories are flashing through my head, this next week is my birthday and I am more than halfway through my life and the first decade and a half of my life was spent as someone toy yet more than 35 years since the monster crawled into my soul and yet every time I close my eyes he’s back.
There are those who will read this and say “35 years ago get the fuck over it” and those people are the same people that “you got raped? It happened once so what” what the naysayers don’t realize is there some things in life that never heal. Some cuts you can’t see on the skin but they’re bleeding non stop underneath. Whether you believe in a soul or not it doesn’t matter, what ever you choose to call that part of you where everything bad is pushed down and everything good if there is any good in your life lives, well that part is ripped out to the very depths of your being.
The first time a monster who you used to call daddy, coach, pastor or even brother doesn’t tuck you in but instead they crawl in, crawl into your bed ,crawl into your very soul and sorry Mr naysayer but I happen to know they never crawl out, never.
I hope the doctor is good at what she does but I have no hopes, hopes that in the dark of night when to any one looking in you’re alone but you know the truth your not alone and you haven’t been in 3 decades and you never will be again. That has to be OK because if it isn’t then life can only be dark, only be hell, but hell’s OK because when you have PTSD because you have been there for a long time. Don’t worry I’ll keep doing the work and keep on going because I believe in chance, ,I believe in the roll of the dice, I believe when a doctor says there’s less than a 5% chance someone has to be in that 5% and maybe ,just maybe this time it might be me?

Hey lime light markets proper disabled entrance isn’t through the stock room through a rusty locked gate?

Until just a few years past the limelight was the place for the gay to play when the lights went out in Manhattan, in it’s hey day anyone who was anyone was seen there. It drew the newly out,the twinks who wanted to rub shoulders with glitterati sadly it went down hill and the shine fell off the stars and it closed.


Well it’s latest incarnation would never have bowie hanging with Warhol, especially at the disabled entrance. As I rolled up-to the iconic landmark today with an itch to scratch to see what had become the former flagship of all that was out loud and proud in the nineties, I saw a very neat, very legal sign showing me the way to the rear garden where what was once the rectory door to the church had a sign saying DISABLED ENTRANCE. The only thing dichotomous and definitely confusing was the shiny sign hanging on the rusty barely hanging on by it’s hinges wrought iron door through which one supposes we of the wheeled world are meant to pass?

lime light

I banged on the wrought on grate which made a sound hailing back to the inquisition raiding a castle and noone answered, I sat for ten minutes before finally rolling around led not by breadcrumbs but the cloud of camel non filtered smoke. After parting the strata cumulus nicotine filled cloud I discovered a more than middle aged blonde who probably the last time anyone believed she was blond or attractive was in the dim disco lights of the limelight in its prime. “Excuse me I Asked, can someone open the disabled entrance?” “nope not my job on a break “ came the heavily bridge and tunnel laden accent proclaimed. “Well is there someone who’s job it is?” the over the hill, over made up bottle blonde opened the glass door just an inch and screamed “someone open the bloody back entrance” suddenly a equally blonde ,equally bridge and tunnel voice said”roll around it’ll take a while.

Ten minutes later the mote like gate didn’t let me down, a creaking noise so shrill dogs in canarsie were howling heralded the doors opening. The younger B&T yelled “follow me watch where you go” Well the warning came only just in time, as I rolled into two layers of curtains that wrapped my head my wheels and stopped Zeus in his tracks.
After two minutes of untangling we turned right and boxes fell on top of us, we were it seems in a stockroom the size of a church hall (which in original church form is probably what it was) After yelling to get the bloody boxes off me, another five minutes stuck there and I was lead through a maze of flammable dangerous pathways of crushed boxes, through more curtains into a tacky excuse of a market more at home in canal street.
After all their trouble of posting the disabled entrance directions, once in I could only roll about twenty feet and then was told the bathrooms were on the third floor, and so was everything else. Basically if you’re disabled, unless you want high end knock offs and cheap copies of ladies foot wear or supposedly high end, mens apparel that pee wee Herman would turn down even during the height of his weirdest days it took longer to manouevre the dangers and life threatening fire hazard that passed for disabled entrance than it did to see all available. No restaurant entrance, no dozen shops, no high end clothing that alas was it seemed reserved for those upright walking abelists that I see around me on the streettime to time. Manhattan it seems would rather we dress from walmart so we don’t put them to the bother of actually complying to OH, I don’t know maybe those pesky federal laws like the AMERICANS WITH DISABILITIES ACT, THE FIRES SAFETY LAWS , THE BUILDING AND CONSTRUCTION CODE? But Whats a few hundred violations between friends?

photo of the original limelight courtesy of catherine mcgann photography

Bert Matthews, 92, allegedly tackled and shackled at hospital

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B.C. senior speaks out about his treatment at a Vancouver Island hospital

CBC News Posted: Apr 07, 2014 6:09 AM PT|

A B.C. senior is speaking out about the traumatizing treatment he received at a recent visit to Victoria General Hospital.

Bert Matthews, 92, was rushed to the emergency room after fearing he was having a stroke or possibly a heart attack.

But after an initial examination, he found himself admitted to a psychiatric ward.

It was the middle of the night, and he decided he shouldn’t be there.

“So, I got up and I got dressed and I was trying to get out,” he said.

That’s when he was tackled by staff attempting to restrain him, Matthews said.

“Four nurses attacked me,” he said.

“They jumped on me, held me down, pinned me to the bed and shackled me.”

The struggle left his hands cut and bruised.

His son, Bob Matthews, came to visit and found him in bed with a restraining strap across his chest. His legs and hands were also tied down.

Bob Matthews heard his dad calling out, and found him tied to a hospital bed. (CBC)

“I could hear Dad calling, so I went right into the room and he was tied down to the bed. I couldn’t believe it,” Matthews said.

Due to privacy legislation, hospital officials won’t discuss the family’s allegations. But in response to CBC’s inquiries, the Vancouver Island Health Authority issued a statement.

“Island Health regrets that the family is dissatisfied with the care their father received… we will look into the circumstances surrounding the case,” said the statement.

Last week, another elderly couple complained they were deemed mentally unfit at Royal Jubilee and are being held against their will at Victoria General Hospital..
■Elderly couple demand hospital end ‘illegal detention’

Recently, B.C. became the first Canadian province to appoint a seniors’ advocate in response to reports of widespread systemic problems with elder care.

“British Columbians in general and seniors in particular need to be assured that I will do whatever is necessary to advocate what is in their best interests,” Isobel Mackenzie said following her appointment in March.

Bert Matthews says nothing in his life, not even fighting in the Second World War, prepared him for what happened during his hospital visit. (CBC)

Matthews, a retired lawyer and decorated Second World War bomber pilot, said he thought he’d seen it all, until that recent hospital visit.

“I’ve been shot at…I’ve been machine-gunned. I’ve been everything, but it’s not as bad as being strapped to bed as a helpless big man.”

1,892 US veterans have committed suicide since january 1st 2014


Reposted from an online story By Paul Szoldra on 31 March 14

Nearly 1,900 military veterans are thought to have taken their own lives in just 2014 alone, according to an estimate from Iraq and Afghanistan Veterans of America, ABC reports.

Extrapolating from a 2012 VA report that found 22 veterans took their lives each day in 2009 and 2010, IAVA members planted 1,892 flags on the National Mall Thursday to commemorate the staggering figure.

“We are losing too many of our brothers and sisters nationwide. And we’re storming the hill to change history and transform a landscape so that America will truly take care of its own who have shouldered the burdens of war,” said IAVA Founder and CEO Paul Rieckhoff in a statement to Business Insider.

Planting the flags was part of a push from IAVA to “Storm the Hill” and get legislation passed to combat suicide within the military ranks. It’s a huge issue — with more than half of the 2.6 million veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan still struggling with physical or mental health problems — many of which know a fellow service member who has attempted or committed suicide, Washington Post reports.

IAVA’s efforts have made an impact, as Sen. John Walsh (D-Mont.), the first Iraq war veteran to serve in the senate, introduced comprehensive legislation that would increase mental health professionals at VA, enhance collaboration with the Pentagon, and review cases of soldiers who may have been wrongly discharged for “invisible wounds.”

“Returning home from combat does not erase what happened there, and yet red tape and government dysfunction have blocked access to the care that saves lives,” Walsh said in a statement to Business Insider. “It is our duty to come together for real solutions for our heroes.”

S.2182, or the Suicide Prevention for America’s Veterans Act, now heads to the Senate Veterans’ Affairs committee

Welcome to my nightmare Or how to survive PTSD

I was watching TV the other day and a woman was talking to Matt lauer about PTSD, and she said her goal as a therapist was to take the patient back to a time when things were good. Good? She’s talking about a time when there were not monsters in the dark, or there was not a Taliban shooting back and when you are a soldier with ptsd or a person who was present on 9/11 there is a time back when,a time when the world was OK. It was a time when the patient … the person didn’t wake screaming in the middle of the night a time when a car backfiring didn’t cause you to push your family to the ground and yell contact.

For every returned soldier, for every 9/11 survivor or family member of a lost soul I wish them that peace. Noone who has ever pulled a trigger and ended a life can ever forget, it changes you for ever but there are tools, devices, and systems that a person can use to let them get along with life.

But there is another whole side to PTSD, the rape survivor, the molestation survivor the child who watched a parent kill a parent and yes for some of them there is also a time back when to aim for. There is also another very large group of people for whom there is no place back when, no time when it was good.
So many people for whom the monster started coming into their bed when they were 1,2 and3 years of age, and it never crawled out until they were big enough to fight and push them back. I know one child who from the age of two and half to three was raped daily, sometimes by their monster and sometimes he shared them. The terror went on continuously until that person was 14 plus and able to throw that person out. So for people like that the best therapist in the world will never help, they can’t because how do you expect someone to remember 1 year of age or 2 years of age ? How do you help a person go back to a normal life, when for them normal is an adult raping your body that is so small it is still wrapped in a diaper?
Normal is crying and screaming and sobbing for a parent, but imagine their confusion and sheer terror when the monster is daddy or mommy or grandpa or in some cases the big brother you idolize!

Stop putting PTSD into one small box, stop saying”crazy soldiers crying about their job” I guarantee you even if you have never ever met a soldier, you still know someone who has PTSD and it has nothing to do with a war with soldiers, but trust me as someone who has lived with PTSD all my life PTSD is a war it’s a war inside your mind, it’s a war that eats your soul and eats the souls of everyone you now and love. It eats their soul because you won’t let them in, even when they want to help but you don’t know how to help yourself so how can you tell others to help you.

The old saying it takes a village to raise a child is so apropos with a person living with PTSD, because with 22 returned veterans killing themselves every day and with teen suicide going through the roof in it’s numbers PTSD is as much a plague killing this nation as any blood born illness has ever been. We go to black tie dinners for aids fund raising on the same day the republican party says the government should not have to pay for service dogs for veterans, and if your injury as a soldier is emotional, if you have suspected PTSD as of yesterday there are 300,000 cases waiting for evaluation not treatment just to start the process with a minimum time expected to wait of 125 days with some waiting as long as 4 years.

In the private world a service dog can cost as much as $50,000 and the waiting list to start the process is longer than the militaries for mental health evaluation, so in fact to correct my previous statement a little PTSD isn’t necessarily the killer as much as the apathy and ignorance of the people with the power to help is.

When you see your loved on zone out, when they seem to reach for a gun or a knife that’s not there in times of danger, remember please don’t judge they have been to hell and their not necessarily all the way back yet so if you can if you have the stamina be patient and welcome them back with love when they come out of where their demons took them. I have my Ella she has gotten pretty good at being there when the screaming stops in the dark hours, I have two basic wishes one is you never now the hell that is PTSD, the second is if we share some of the demons you have someone waiting that loves you as much as my Ella loves me.
peace be with you