I have often heard the question: "How can God let so many bad things happen?". Years of my life were spent attempting to make sense of this question. Now I have an understanding about painful events in our lives and God's role in it. I believe strongly that all of the events of our life create who we become. I have felt a peace come over me after some very painful events in my life. It has become clear that grace is offered, and often clearly seen, during the most difficult of times. If our lives were without pain, how could we fully appreciate grace?
Since I am far more spiritual than I am religious, I choose not to debate doctrine. I do think about malicious violence in the world and how to process such behavior. Do we blame an element, an energy, a being or do we face what the dark side of life can ignite? Abandonment, neglect, abuse and trauma of all sorts can transform even the strongest of people. Suddenly the world we came to trust, understand and make sense of is spun and uprooted in a way that forever changes how we perceive ourselves and those around us.
We do have choices in how we proceed from pain. Do we withdraw? Do we lash out? Do we decide that because life is not how we knew it to be, we are now not going to play the game of life anymore? I've known more people than I care to count who have taken their own lives. I don't pretend to understand the emotions and reasons that led them to that place. I understand my form of grief and my times with depression.
I think it's pretty clear that there are no easy answers in life. There are answers or guidance that come often after excruciating agony, seeming unyielding grief or anger. For me it seems that the feeling, the energy, the knowing of God comes to me when I question the most. I have changed my question from why does it happen to what does this mean for me.
I remember an episode of the television show Touched by an Angel which looked at the issue of the holocaust during World War II. The atheist's question was: "What was God doing during the time of such misery?" The angel's response was: "He was weeping for his children". I remember finding comfort in that show. Nowhere was the violence of that time discounted or the wounds of such injustice dismissed. The acknowledgement that God would experience grief seemed meaningful to me.
My belief for a long time was that God was beyond emotions, especially painful ones. I interpreted that to mean that for me no emotion should be felt because to do so was to be different from God. It's interesting how rigid my beliefs were even though I was not raised in religion. Perhaps my lack of fellowship and connection as a young person caused me to bring such harshness upon myself.
Today I believe that God is a presence, an energy that guides my life in a different way than how I believed when I was younger. It began with grief for me. I came to understand that nothing and no one is forever. I am pained by suffering and hope that all of those around me can leave this world with the least amount of pain possible. As my beloved animals have died, I came to feel a deep appreciation for them and all that they gave me. My sadness reduced dramatically when they seemed to be no longer suffering.
Family deaths have been a bit different. I found myself wanting surrender and peace to come to those close to leaving their bodies. My frustration was about them fighting for what I felt was a battle more about ego than peace.
Loss in the form of trauma of all types has been a very different form of grief for me to process. I've seen military families forever changed from deployments, children forever wounded from violence and adults bewildered from the shock of understanding how the world they thought they came from was nothing like the reality. It's humbling, shocking, depressing and overwhelming to see the effects of life on this planet. It is also pretty phenomenal to see the rebirth of life after pain and destruction. To me, that process is grace. To know beyond all doubt that we are cherished children of the Divine is to know the most important truth of all. We are never, ever alone. We may struggle, question, doubt and deny but through it all I believe we are never alone. There is great comfort to me in that. Since I
believe God speaks to us in many forms, who's to say where our next message from God will be? Perhaps beyond the pain, the disappointments, the doubt, we can see the grace in our lives. Maybe grace can best be described as comfort, the soothing, nurturing, healing energy of God's love.
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Friday, November 6, 2015
It's possible!
Les Brown, motivator speaker, has often referred to the phrase: "It's possible!" in his many stimulating presentations. Les' belief is that if you have a dream that you need to follow it because only you can bring out your own unique gifts and talents. Being disabled and gifted is a very bittersweet combination. Sometimes I want so much to pursue my dreams and often I am stopped, at least momentarily, by a challenge I don't know how to handle. It's really not about being unmotivated but rather feeling misunderstood and frustrated.
My ongoing challenge has been to find the missing link to my continued healing. After all of the shifts in nutrition, supplements, homeopathic remedies and alternative services, I find myself with a staggering truth. My brain, the center of all of my impressions and understandings, doesn't feel safe. I am on sensory overload in one form or another all the time. Although this situation is written about in certain research, very few people understand what it's like to be on guard all the time in one form or another.
Recently I met a man who also has traumatic brain injuries and post traumatic stress disorder. He is a practitioner and one whose honesty and integrity intrigues me. I will be meeting with him later this week because he specializes in working with helping the brain and body of his clients feel safe. If safety is felt, then the body can make remarkable shifts towards healing.
I heard my words as I spoke to him on the phone. I talked about my brain enduring so much stress, grief, fear, and anger. When I mentioned compassion, patience, and allowing myself the time I need to heal I felt comforted. Sometimes this world demands us to be something we are not. Frequently we are expected to appear calm when we're terrified; happy when we're depressed and motivated when we're exhausted. We get so used to appearing one way and deeply feeling another that our incongruence begins to take on a life all its own. We lose touch with who we are at our deepest levels.
We are not beings capable of lying to ourselves without consequence. Sooner or later our masks fall off and we come face to face with our deepest emotions. The raw edge of feeling can be completely overwhelming especially if we have never learned to allow our weaknesses, our imperfections and our pain to be expressed and honored.
As I take the next steps in my healing I feel immensely grateful for those in my life who don't run from my intensity, my sensitivity, and my unique blend of gift and challenge. The pain of being dismissed, misunderstood, criticized and belittled leaves deep scars throughout my being yet I am not consumed by them anymore. I do see beyond them and look forward to honoring and learning from the lessons my scars have to teach.
My ongoing challenge has been to find the missing link to my continued healing. After all of the shifts in nutrition, supplements, homeopathic remedies and alternative services, I find myself with a staggering truth. My brain, the center of all of my impressions and understandings, doesn't feel safe. I am on sensory overload in one form or another all the time. Although this situation is written about in certain research, very few people understand what it's like to be on guard all the time in one form or another.
Recently I met a man who also has traumatic brain injuries and post traumatic stress disorder. He is a practitioner and one whose honesty and integrity intrigues me. I will be meeting with him later this week because he specializes in working with helping the brain and body of his clients feel safe. If safety is felt, then the body can make remarkable shifts towards healing.
I heard my words as I spoke to him on the phone. I talked about my brain enduring so much stress, grief, fear, and anger. When I mentioned compassion, patience, and allowing myself the time I need to heal I felt comforted. Sometimes this world demands us to be something we are not. Frequently we are expected to appear calm when we're terrified; happy when we're depressed and motivated when we're exhausted. We get so used to appearing one way and deeply feeling another that our incongruence begins to take on a life all its own. We lose touch with who we are at our deepest levels.
We are not beings capable of lying to ourselves without consequence. Sooner or later our masks fall off and we come face to face with our deepest emotions. The raw edge of feeling can be completely overwhelming especially if we have never learned to allow our weaknesses, our imperfections and our pain to be expressed and honored.
As I take the next steps in my healing I feel immensely grateful for those in my life who don't run from my intensity, my sensitivity, and my unique blend of gift and challenge. The pain of being dismissed, misunderstood, criticized and belittled leaves deep scars throughout my being yet I am not consumed by them anymore. I do see beyond them and look forward to honoring and learning from the lessons my scars have to teach.
Thursday, August 13, 2015
Neglect vs Abuse
It's curious to me that many people believe that abuse is worse than neglect. The belief is often based on the perception that neglect is merely not giving another what they need in terms of basics in life. I would debate that. Neglect also involves negating the significance or even the existence of another. Abuse is usually active be it physical or mental. As painful as it is, it does in some bizarre manner acknowledge another. Neglect on the other hand does not.
It's very significant to me that most of the people who neglected me did not mean to do so. I'm not justifying their actions. I'm saying that I truly do not believe they meant to be hurtful in any way. I believe I was an incredibly sensitive child who was ever so demanding because I felt things so very deeply. I didn't understand myself or how to interact with the world. My traumatic brain injury caused me to struggle in so many areas and my emotional sensitivity was often perceived as needy and excessive. Although I isolated and withdrew in school during my early days, I learned to behave and respond as others did to some degree as I got older. My emotional struggles I buried deeper and deeper within myself.
Depression and anxiety were feelings I knew very well and most of the time I didn't understand why I had them. It has taken a very long time for me to understand how much I was emotionally deprived in my life. I didn't realize that expression of feelings comes from being taught how to interact and feeling safe enough to say what is most painful. Grief was something that has been very prevalent in my life and just as I was processing one loss I seemed to have another and yet another.
Being around someone with disabilities is a challenge. Depending on the type of disabilities and the coping styles of both the one with the challenge and those around them, life can be very nourishing or excruciatingly painful and exhausting. For me, frustration was my initial reaction to almost everything. I remember wanting so desperately to explain how I was feeling and being met with: "You're just too sensitive. You need to just get over it." I truly think my depression and anxiety were the few outlets to my frustration. I either felt overwhelmed and afraid or so angry that eventually I just turned it upon myself. My dissociation occurred because I was left with so few outlets for my feelings that the only place to go was literally somewhere else!
I didn't have explanations for why I was so sensitive either as a child or for a large part of my adulthood. I wanted to be as seemingly unaffected as others by life and I just could not be! I was sensitive, super sensitive! I felt deep emotions to nature, the animals, the slightest turn of phrase, and sarcasm in any form. I tried to be sarcastic and callous. All that got me was worsening depression. I tried to isolate and withdraw from all that was in the world. I learned that is not life and it most certainly is not living.
As my emotions manifested into physical conditions, no one in the allopathic world realized I had been a neglected child. People in the helping professions tried to talk to me about who I was and what I had been through but they never understood the TBI piece and therefore assumed that they understood how I felt and that their painful paths were just like mine. The loneliness of being a survivor of trauma was made worse because often people believe all trauma, just like all disabilities, are alike. I would disagreed on both counts.
Each of us is unique. Our journeys are very much our own. When others assume they know what we are thinking and feeling it may be coming from a very loving place, but often the perception is dead wrong. Feeling dismissed, unheard, unvalued and worthless are ultimately, to me anyway, spiritual issues in need of addressing. The pain of living in a society of those who don't or can't understand is often the journey we must travel to reach spiritual understanding. The pain of life for me is not without meaning. Whether any human can truly appreciate me or not, I know God can. This is not a discussion of religion but rather spirituality. An acquaintance of mine used to say: "You think you're more bad than God is good." I will reframe that to say: "I see good in myself because God does. No matter my path, God can love me and see me for all that I am and all that I will become."
It's very significant to me that most of the people who neglected me did not mean to do so. I'm not justifying their actions. I'm saying that I truly do not believe they meant to be hurtful in any way. I believe I was an incredibly sensitive child who was ever so demanding because I felt things so very deeply. I didn't understand myself or how to interact with the world. My traumatic brain injury caused me to struggle in so many areas and my emotional sensitivity was often perceived as needy and excessive. Although I isolated and withdrew in school during my early days, I learned to behave and respond as others did to some degree as I got older. My emotional struggles I buried deeper and deeper within myself.
Depression and anxiety were feelings I knew very well and most of the time I didn't understand why I had them. It has taken a very long time for me to understand how much I was emotionally deprived in my life. I didn't realize that expression of feelings comes from being taught how to interact and feeling safe enough to say what is most painful. Grief was something that has been very prevalent in my life and just as I was processing one loss I seemed to have another and yet another.
Being around someone with disabilities is a challenge. Depending on the type of disabilities and the coping styles of both the one with the challenge and those around them, life can be very nourishing or excruciatingly painful and exhausting. For me, frustration was my initial reaction to almost everything. I remember wanting so desperately to explain how I was feeling and being met with: "You're just too sensitive. You need to just get over it." I truly think my depression and anxiety were the few outlets to my frustration. I either felt overwhelmed and afraid or so angry that eventually I just turned it upon myself. My dissociation occurred because I was left with so few outlets for my feelings that the only place to go was literally somewhere else!
I didn't have explanations for why I was so sensitive either as a child or for a large part of my adulthood. I wanted to be as seemingly unaffected as others by life and I just could not be! I was sensitive, super sensitive! I felt deep emotions to nature, the animals, the slightest turn of phrase, and sarcasm in any form. I tried to be sarcastic and callous. All that got me was worsening depression. I tried to isolate and withdraw from all that was in the world. I learned that is not life and it most certainly is not living.
As my emotions manifested into physical conditions, no one in the allopathic world realized I had been a neglected child. People in the helping professions tried to talk to me about who I was and what I had been through but they never understood the TBI piece and therefore assumed that they understood how I felt and that their painful paths were just like mine. The loneliness of being a survivor of trauma was made worse because often people believe all trauma, just like all disabilities, are alike. I would disagreed on both counts.
Each of us is unique. Our journeys are very much our own. When others assume they know what we are thinking and feeling it may be coming from a very loving place, but often the perception is dead wrong. Feeling dismissed, unheard, unvalued and worthless are ultimately, to me anyway, spiritual issues in need of addressing. The pain of living in a society of those who don't or can't understand is often the journey we must travel to reach spiritual understanding. The pain of life for me is not without meaning. Whether any human can truly appreciate me or not, I know God can. This is not a discussion of religion but rather spirituality. An acquaintance of mine used to say: "You think you're more bad than God is good." I will reframe that to say: "I see good in myself because God does. No matter my path, God can love me and see me for all that I am and all that I will become."
Sunday, August 9, 2015
So subtle and yet so powerful
As I sat pondering my current adrenal challenges, I decided to reflect on what issues in my life were recurring. I can look back on my life and realize that my disabilities have confused many situations. Although I was raised in the Northeast where sarcasm is rampant, I was often with people who didn't want or need me to process certain things emotionally. Being bright, I could pass for understanding when often I didn't. Brazen cruelty and maliciousness were so confusing to me. Violence in word and deed just didn't make sense to me. I became judgmental as a child to survive and as I grew older I did my best to change my judgment to discernment. There were insecurities and fears that others had that I just didn't understand. Spirituality to me was a comfort and to me many faiths held meaning for me so a lot of the controversy over who was right was so hostile that it seemed to just go right over my head.
I think that I have often wanted to believe people who were less than honest in their actions because I just didn't quite get why anyone wouldn't be. It took a long time for me to understand that certain people are emotionally unable to be truthful. Obvious dishonesty was something I understood long before subtle dishonesty. Gaslighting is a form of mental manipulation that happens often to bright people who want to believe the best in others. It's a very subtle form of control that can do incredible damage to self esteem.
When I was younger I used to see pictures of people who were labeled abused. At the time I thought, like what many people did, abuse was physical and horrific. Even now I still struggle with the concept of mental/psychological/emotional abuse. Dominance and disrespect can run a huge continuum. Often control is not derived from physically intimidating someone. It's often slowly and underhandedly done, little by little. Rarely have I ever been physically threatened. When I was, I understood quickly why and what it meant. Gaslighting was a whole different thing.
I remember seeing individuals wanting desperately to see the best in someone, even those who continued to belittle, humiliate, and dismiss them on a regular basis. The mental health field can often identify obvious control and then has rather rigid beliefs about who does what to whom and how it should be addressed. I don't tend to agree that situations are that clear cut. Often people, like myself, are in situations where the expectation and the reality are very very different. What people observe is NOT what is actually going on in families, work places, social and spiritual settings. Appearances are often just that. They frequently are set up to mask what is actually occurring.
Many of the traumatic moments in my life were obvious and even if the situation wasn't particularly respected, the magnitude was acknowledged. Gaslighting is different. It occurs behind closed doors. It is progressive and just like a toxic tumor it can overtake all of who you believed you were. Labels are interesting and it's very much a choice in how significant we make the labels in our lives. Whether we are labeled "good, bad, artistic, sloppy, organized, gifted, stupid, slow, bright, ambitious, lazy, correct, wrong, worthy, or impressive" has often absolutely nothing to do with who we are at our core. Assumptions, appearances, much like impressions are easily created and modified.
Gaslighting is about slowly shifting how we see ourselves both inwardly and outwardly. I was once told that I was a poor communicator even though it's pretty clear I've communicated quite successfully most of my life. I doubted myself. Gaslighting does that. It plants doubts, fears, insecurities and concerns about who we are. For me it is the absolute opposite of spiritual faith. Faith builds us up, supports us, reminds us of who we are at our deepest levels. It quiets fears, doubts, and worries. Gaslighting ignites them.
Being labeled as abused is so painfully bittersweet to me. I have experienced abuse but I don't wish to label myself "abused". My experiences make up part of my reality but they don't define it. Part of me feels ashamed that my naivety allowed very painful things to occur in my life. Another side feels blessed that as awful as some of these times were, they gave me perspective and wisdom that I would not have otherwise acquired.
When I was young, I always wanted to learn what I needed to know. Maybe it was my way of wanting to feels safe. I so wanted others to feel what I felt and be honest enough to express it. That rarely occurred as a young child. As an adult, I treasure the people who acknowledge their humanity and their frailties as a human being. These are the people who I tend to trust and respect. Perhaps the main reason that I am so spiritual is because when I look around at all of the confusion in the world, I need something to help me find my truth. For me faith does that. When I connect to the Divine, I find a peace and a knowing that doesn't come to me from anywhere else. I find comfort in different sources but none as complete and as gentle and as genuine as the Divine.
My life has been filled with many experiences that I need to grieve and process, often many times over. Somehow through it all, I found a light. I found a connection that was greater than all the pain and all the confusion. Now it's about picking up the pieces, honoring them, and keeping only what serves me for no one on the outside can define who I truly am.
I think that I have often wanted to believe people who were less than honest in their actions because I just didn't quite get why anyone wouldn't be. It took a long time for me to understand that certain people are emotionally unable to be truthful. Obvious dishonesty was something I understood long before subtle dishonesty. Gaslighting is a form of mental manipulation that happens often to bright people who want to believe the best in others. It's a very subtle form of control that can do incredible damage to self esteem.
When I was younger I used to see pictures of people who were labeled abused. At the time I thought, like what many people did, abuse was physical and horrific. Even now I still struggle with the concept of mental/psychological/emotional abuse. Dominance and disrespect can run a huge continuum. Often control is not derived from physically intimidating someone. It's often slowly and underhandedly done, little by little. Rarely have I ever been physically threatened. When I was, I understood quickly why and what it meant. Gaslighting was a whole different thing.
I remember seeing individuals wanting desperately to see the best in someone, even those who continued to belittle, humiliate, and dismiss them on a regular basis. The mental health field can often identify obvious control and then has rather rigid beliefs about who does what to whom and how it should be addressed. I don't tend to agree that situations are that clear cut. Often people, like myself, are in situations where the expectation and the reality are very very different. What people observe is NOT what is actually going on in families, work places, social and spiritual settings. Appearances are often just that. They frequently are set up to mask what is actually occurring.
Many of the traumatic moments in my life were obvious and even if the situation wasn't particularly respected, the magnitude was acknowledged. Gaslighting is different. It occurs behind closed doors. It is progressive and just like a toxic tumor it can overtake all of who you believed you were. Labels are interesting and it's very much a choice in how significant we make the labels in our lives. Whether we are labeled "good, bad, artistic, sloppy, organized, gifted, stupid, slow, bright, ambitious, lazy, correct, wrong, worthy, or impressive" has often absolutely nothing to do with who we are at our core. Assumptions, appearances, much like impressions are easily created and modified.
Gaslighting is about slowly shifting how we see ourselves both inwardly and outwardly. I was once told that I was a poor communicator even though it's pretty clear I've communicated quite successfully most of my life. I doubted myself. Gaslighting does that. It plants doubts, fears, insecurities and concerns about who we are. For me it is the absolute opposite of spiritual faith. Faith builds us up, supports us, reminds us of who we are at our deepest levels. It quiets fears, doubts, and worries. Gaslighting ignites them.
Being labeled as abused is so painfully bittersweet to me. I have experienced abuse but I don't wish to label myself "abused". My experiences make up part of my reality but they don't define it. Part of me feels ashamed that my naivety allowed very painful things to occur in my life. Another side feels blessed that as awful as some of these times were, they gave me perspective and wisdom that I would not have otherwise acquired.
When I was young, I always wanted to learn what I needed to know. Maybe it was my way of wanting to feels safe. I so wanted others to feel what I felt and be honest enough to express it. That rarely occurred as a young child. As an adult, I treasure the people who acknowledge their humanity and their frailties as a human being. These are the people who I tend to trust and respect. Perhaps the main reason that I am so spiritual is because when I look around at all of the confusion in the world, I need something to help me find my truth. For me faith does that. When I connect to the Divine, I find a peace and a knowing that doesn't come to me from anywhere else. I find comfort in different sources but none as complete and as gentle and as genuine as the Divine.
My life has been filled with many experiences that I need to grieve and process, often many times over. Somehow through it all, I found a light. I found a connection that was greater than all the pain and all the confusion. Now it's about picking up the pieces, honoring them, and keeping only what serves me for no one on the outside can define who I truly am.
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Compassion
We all use a variety of measures for determining our development throughout life. At the moment, my focus would be on compassion both for myself and others. There is a lot of spiritual literature which speaks to the oneness of us all. This can present a real challenge when some of those around us are individuals who seem to be irritating to our core. I have had more than a few of these folks around me throughout my life. I have reflected on why it is that these certain people have brought up the feelings in me that they have.
Sometimes it's the exaggerated, reactive behavior of these folks that causes me to feel unsettled. What might trigger their next reaction? The instability and intensity of their reaction causes me to brace for the next explosion. I do my best to minimize my time around these people but sometimes that's just not an easy choice. I can certainly feel the fear in these people. Situations that could be easily managed are often intensely seen and felt by these individuals. Day to day life stresses seem to cause them to fall into panic mode more often than not.
Perhaps the intensity of these folks would bother me less if others would stop reacting to them. I often think it feels easier for the people around them to indulge them their emotional outbursts than to constantly redirect them or ignore them. I have disconnected myself from some of these people in my life. Their intensity and constant swirling of emotions feels very exhausting to me. Sometimes this is not possible. People do overreact and some much more than others. It seems like often there is a pull of extremes: those who under-react are attracted to those who overreact. Usually this combination exhausts both parties who can't seem to understand the opposite.
I was thinking of the phrase: "Rather than get pulled into their chaos, pull them into your peace." I really am working with this. There will certainly be people I find exhausting yet clearly they have a right to be who they are. I would also state that the consequences of their behavior are theirs and theirs alone as well.
After years working with a diagnostic manual of mental health disorders, I could rattle off several labels for these people. However I know that in doing so, it would soothe and settle nothing. Some individuals are dominated by fear and anger and chaos is what they know. Some people know violence, hatred and pain and respond in kind. It's a challenge to move away from this type of person, who seems so lost, because for me there is that need to want to help make things better. It's been a tough lesson for me to learn that some folks are not ready or willing to shift. Where they are in their lives is where they choose to stay. It feels sad to hear people speak in victim terms, but being a powerless victim with them is no help either.
Learning to love, let go, and allow is perhaps one of the most difficult lessons in life. There are so many voices of shame and should in life today that it takes a lot of courage and self-love to step away from earthly pain and into God's grace. I cannot say I do it all the time or that I'm always graceful in doing it. I can honestly say I'm working on finding and keeping peace and giving God the chaos that is not mine to accept.
Sometimes it's the exaggerated, reactive behavior of these folks that causes me to feel unsettled. What might trigger their next reaction? The instability and intensity of their reaction causes me to brace for the next explosion. I do my best to minimize my time around these people but sometimes that's just not an easy choice. I can certainly feel the fear in these people. Situations that could be easily managed are often intensely seen and felt by these individuals. Day to day life stresses seem to cause them to fall into panic mode more often than not.
Perhaps the intensity of these folks would bother me less if others would stop reacting to them. I often think it feels easier for the people around them to indulge them their emotional outbursts than to constantly redirect them or ignore them. I have disconnected myself from some of these people in my life. Their intensity and constant swirling of emotions feels very exhausting to me. Sometimes this is not possible. People do overreact and some much more than others. It seems like often there is a pull of extremes: those who under-react are attracted to those who overreact. Usually this combination exhausts both parties who can't seem to understand the opposite.
I was thinking of the phrase: "Rather than get pulled into their chaos, pull them into your peace." I really am working with this. There will certainly be people I find exhausting yet clearly they have a right to be who they are. I would also state that the consequences of their behavior are theirs and theirs alone as well.
After years working with a diagnostic manual of mental health disorders, I could rattle off several labels for these people. However I know that in doing so, it would soothe and settle nothing. Some individuals are dominated by fear and anger and chaos is what they know. Some people know violence, hatred and pain and respond in kind. It's a challenge to move away from this type of person, who seems so lost, because for me there is that need to want to help make things better. It's been a tough lesson for me to learn that some folks are not ready or willing to shift. Where they are in their lives is where they choose to stay. It feels sad to hear people speak in victim terms, but being a powerless victim with them is no help either.
Learning to love, let go, and allow is perhaps one of the most difficult lessons in life. There are so many voices of shame and should in life today that it takes a lot of courage and self-love to step away from earthly pain and into God's grace. I cannot say I do it all the time or that I'm always graceful in doing it. I can honestly say I'm working on finding and keeping peace and giving God the chaos that is not mine to accept.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Can you hear along with listen?
My husband has often said: "You're not like other people." In some ways that's true, in others it's not. One of his examples of this observation is that I really do my best to say what I mean and mean what I say. This is not just a recovery phrase for me. A little over three years ago, interestingly over Valentine's day I found myself in the emergency room of a heart hospital. I went there because I felt a heaviness in my chest. I was at the time overweight, stressed, still battling some asthma, and in my late 40's so I could see the reason for the staff's concern. They told me I was going to be kept overnight for observation because I came to the hospital in the late afternoon.
One of the first things I was given was aspirin and then a nitro glycerin patch. The first dose of over the counter pain pills was the first and last dose I was to receive. The headache, frequently associated with nitro glycerin, was dull and constant. The aspirin barely took the edge off of it. I was told the headache was due to the blood vessels dilating and the circulation significantly increasing. Although the stress test that followed the next morning showed my heart to be very healthy, there was another important event that occurred. In the twelve or so hours I was in the hospital, I lost over ten pounds of water weight. My swelling was noticeably decreased! As I brought this to the staff's attention, not a one of them could explain why it had happened. I mentioned it to my naturopath at the time, other doctors, nutritionists and none could explain it. Then I came across articles on nitric oxide. This led to finding out information on three American Nobel prize winners who were able to explain the action of nitro glycerin. Nitric oxide is a gas which majorly affects blood flow throughout the body. Cardiovascular health can be improved and stabilized with foods and supplements that support nitric oxide.
If nitric oxide levels decline due to stress, aging, or in my case a severe black mold exposure, then oxidative stress and free radicals can create inflammation and then edema. I had radically changed my diet, worked on emotional issues, and still questioned why my edema remained. The black mold, which I was around close to ten years, began the pattern of significant decline in my health. I began my life with circulatory, neurological, and emotional challenges. The mold magnified them and also reduced my nitric oxide levels. My aging and stress levels made things worse.
After over a week of craving red beet roots, I began to look into what nutritional properties beets had. They are one of the top foods for supporting nitric oxide levels according to Julian Whitaker, MD. I had juiced a small amount of them or ate some cooked beets. These made me feel a bit better but not great. I did notice that my vertigo had reduced since consuming them. As I read Dr. Whitaker's take on beets, I decided to try juicing more of them. Yesterday I consumed almost a full cup of beet juice. This morning I was up after 7 rather than my usual 10 hours of sleep. I improved on my vision therapy exercise and was very clear headed which is darn near impossible for me to achieve some days!
What the nitro glycerin gave me in the hospital is what my body longed to have. The other foods that minimally increased my nitric oxide levels were helpful but not enough. I was so confused as to why my practitioners dismissed my experience in the hospital. They all seemed so certain that my experience was meaningless and that I must fit into a category that THEY understood! I certainly am not one to fit into someone else's box! I searched and searched for someone other than my husband to listen. The research I found clearly stated the power of circulation and nitric oxide specifically. In the years I have looked for someone to listen, I found research that showed what I suspected.
It's a real challenge to walk away from the belief that others know what to do better than you do yourself. So many of us have been confused and told not to believe that our impressions, understandings and gut feelings are less than accurate. I KNEW deep within me that the nitro glycerin was showing me a huge piece of the puzzle and I waited for others to understand. Although I understand that all things come in time, I feel angry that my impressions were not heard.
As I move further into healing, with a naturopath who does her best to listen and hear I look forward to greater and greater health. Sometimes in life, we just need to stick true to what we know deep in our hearts and minds is right. The knowing and the honoring of what is our truth is a gift beyond measure.
One of the first things I was given was aspirin and then a nitro glycerin patch. The first dose of over the counter pain pills was the first and last dose I was to receive. The headache, frequently associated with nitro glycerin, was dull and constant. The aspirin barely took the edge off of it. I was told the headache was due to the blood vessels dilating and the circulation significantly increasing. Although the stress test that followed the next morning showed my heart to be very healthy, there was another important event that occurred. In the twelve or so hours I was in the hospital, I lost over ten pounds of water weight. My swelling was noticeably decreased! As I brought this to the staff's attention, not a one of them could explain why it had happened. I mentioned it to my naturopath at the time, other doctors, nutritionists and none could explain it. Then I came across articles on nitric oxide. This led to finding out information on three American Nobel prize winners who were able to explain the action of nitro glycerin. Nitric oxide is a gas which majorly affects blood flow throughout the body. Cardiovascular health can be improved and stabilized with foods and supplements that support nitric oxide.
If nitric oxide levels decline due to stress, aging, or in my case a severe black mold exposure, then oxidative stress and free radicals can create inflammation and then edema. I had radically changed my diet, worked on emotional issues, and still questioned why my edema remained. The black mold, which I was around close to ten years, began the pattern of significant decline in my health. I began my life with circulatory, neurological, and emotional challenges. The mold magnified them and also reduced my nitric oxide levels. My aging and stress levels made things worse.
After over a week of craving red beet roots, I began to look into what nutritional properties beets had. They are one of the top foods for supporting nitric oxide levels according to Julian Whitaker, MD. I had juiced a small amount of them or ate some cooked beets. These made me feel a bit better but not great. I did notice that my vertigo had reduced since consuming them. As I read Dr. Whitaker's take on beets, I decided to try juicing more of them. Yesterday I consumed almost a full cup of beet juice. This morning I was up after 7 rather than my usual 10 hours of sleep. I improved on my vision therapy exercise and was very clear headed which is darn near impossible for me to achieve some days!
What the nitro glycerin gave me in the hospital is what my body longed to have. The other foods that minimally increased my nitric oxide levels were helpful but not enough. I was so confused as to why my practitioners dismissed my experience in the hospital. They all seemed so certain that my experience was meaningless and that I must fit into a category that THEY understood! I certainly am not one to fit into someone else's box! I searched and searched for someone other than my husband to listen. The research I found clearly stated the power of circulation and nitric oxide specifically. In the years I have looked for someone to listen, I found research that showed what I suspected.
It's a real challenge to walk away from the belief that others know what to do better than you do yourself. So many of us have been confused and told not to believe that our impressions, understandings and gut feelings are less than accurate. I KNEW deep within me that the nitro glycerin was showing me a huge piece of the puzzle and I waited for others to understand. Although I understand that all things come in time, I feel angry that my impressions were not heard.
As I move further into healing, with a naturopath who does her best to listen and hear I look forward to greater and greater health. Sometimes in life, we just need to stick true to what we know deep in our hearts and minds is right. The knowing and the honoring of what is our truth is a gift beyond measure.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
"To call you ultra sensitive is an understatement"
These were the words given to me yesterday. I had have always been called sensitive but to be told this by a remarkably sensitive holistic practitioner is a bit different. To many of the practitioners I've seen, I have been quickly misread. I am not a petite woman. I am 5' 5" and my bone size is large. My hour glass shape shows that I am not frail, weak, or delicate. My weight, which I wear quite well, has always been used to ground me to a certain extent. The practitioners who have not understood me have been those who assumed that because I am not a small woman, I am very insensitive on all levels and don't feel things deeply. Those people are missing who I truly am. It is my strong opinion that body size has nothing to do with the depth of sensitivity within someone.
I had a friend who told me many years ago that regardless of how small and thin she was, she felt fat. When she lost weight, she felt more comfortable and was able to reach her goals for health. Her view of herself and my view of myself were quite different. I am obtaining vibrant health which for me is strength, flexibility, and endurance on all levels. My sensitivities on the vestibular, visual, emotional, spiritual, and physical levels have led me to some harsh conclusions. Regardless of how many people claim that they can tolerate amusement parks, malls, loud music, processed food, little sleep, and lots of stimulants, I can't. My system needs lots of quiet, purposeful reflection, healthy lighting and food, gentle colors, and a very supportive environment. There is a certain feeling of grief or guilt about not being able to take what the world has to give, yet I know that busyness is not good for me or who I am.
I find a lot exhausting which is not because I am weak but rather because I am sensitive. The off gassing of furniture, be it at a store or a gym, is enough to kick my system into shut down. The intensity of a group of people be it at the movies, restaurants, stores, or even while doing hobbies, can be totally overwhelming to me. It has been a long time since I was able to have enough of the support I need to cope with the constant busyness of the world. As I continue to explore what brings me peace and what disturbs me, I am finding that I am not alone. Many of us just can't take the constant barrage of light, sound, movement, and expectations that today's modern pace demands. This would certainly explain a lot of our health issues, exhaustion, and erratic sleep patterns.
Certainly my practitioner's words about my sensitivity does put me into a class that is not shared by many, yet I am not without my peers. Many of us deeply enjoy and need a break from the intensity of the world. I appreciate technology and understand that the world is changing rapidly as I write these words. It's clear to me that the world is not meant to cater to my needs. If I am to heal fully, I need to be the one to set limits and boundaries on what I do and where I go. It's also my responsibility to understand to what degree I choose to push myself and then how much time I need to recover.
Being intuitive has its pros and cons. Once an awareness becomes our own, we then accept the responsibility for implementing it in our lives. Sometimes my sensitivities are a real drain to me and other times they give me perception and wisdom that I could never achieve without them. For me, it's not about denying who I am. It's about understanding and honoring who I am in the healthiest, most empowering means possible.
I had a friend who told me many years ago that regardless of how small and thin she was, she felt fat. When she lost weight, she felt more comfortable and was able to reach her goals for health. Her view of herself and my view of myself were quite different. I am obtaining vibrant health which for me is strength, flexibility, and endurance on all levels. My sensitivities on the vestibular, visual, emotional, spiritual, and physical levels have led me to some harsh conclusions. Regardless of how many people claim that they can tolerate amusement parks, malls, loud music, processed food, little sleep, and lots of stimulants, I can't. My system needs lots of quiet, purposeful reflection, healthy lighting and food, gentle colors, and a very supportive environment. There is a certain feeling of grief or guilt about not being able to take what the world has to give, yet I know that busyness is not good for me or who I am.
I find a lot exhausting which is not because I am weak but rather because I am sensitive. The off gassing of furniture, be it at a store or a gym, is enough to kick my system into shut down. The intensity of a group of people be it at the movies, restaurants, stores, or even while doing hobbies, can be totally overwhelming to me. It has been a long time since I was able to have enough of the support I need to cope with the constant busyness of the world. As I continue to explore what brings me peace and what disturbs me, I am finding that I am not alone. Many of us just can't take the constant barrage of light, sound, movement, and expectations that today's modern pace demands. This would certainly explain a lot of our health issues, exhaustion, and erratic sleep patterns.
Certainly my practitioner's words about my sensitivity does put me into a class that is not shared by many, yet I am not without my peers. Many of us deeply enjoy and need a break from the intensity of the world. I appreciate technology and understand that the world is changing rapidly as I write these words. It's clear to me that the world is not meant to cater to my needs. If I am to heal fully, I need to be the one to set limits and boundaries on what I do and where I go. It's also my responsibility to understand to what degree I choose to push myself and then how much time I need to recover.
Being intuitive has its pros and cons. Once an awareness becomes our own, we then accept the responsibility for implementing it in our lives. Sometimes my sensitivities are a real drain to me and other times they give me perception and wisdom that I could never achieve without them. For me, it's not about denying who I am. It's about understanding and honoring who I am in the healthiest, most empowering means possible.
What we had and what we thought we had
When I first learned the meaning of the word grief, I thought it meant the feeling you get when something you loved went away. It was a long time before I realized that we can grieve what we had and lost as well as what we were never able to have. I can apply this concept to lots of things. People who developed disabilities later in life have lots of grief and part of it can be about who they used to be and what they used to have. In my case, I've grown up not having certain abilities and didn't realize until much later in life what I "should" or could have had. I have always been very intuitive and I used to think most people functioned as I did when they made decisions and decided how they felt about someone or something. Having discernment strictly based on logic is very foreign to me.
Because I was born to parents who were substantially older than many parents, I arrived into a family that caused me to be between the generations. My closest cousins were close to 20 years my senior and even my siblings, who were from a previous marriage, were close to that age difference as well. One of my paternal aunts, with whom I was very close, died when I was in my late 20's. My grandmother and my first best friend died before I was in fourth grade. As my uncles, cousins, other aunts, classmates, and friends have died, I have shifted in the way I relate to life. I do my best to cherish moments because I know in a very deep way that nothing is promised and life, in this form anyway, is limited. I miss a lot of biological family who have died. Friends and acquaintances, many from another time and place, I miss and yet know our parting was meant to be.
The animals I have loved so dearly who have left my care have also changed me. Some have died due to old age, illness, by assistance of a veterinarian, or gone on to another home through adoption or foster care. When I think of the animals that have touched my life, I think of my father's bassets and my mother and her beautiful collies. The lovely gray and white tabby cats, wonderful potbelly pigs, regal Old English Sheepdogs and many more who have influenced my life in powerful ways have helped to mold who I have become.
Suffering upsets me quite a bit. It disturbs me far more to see suffering than to see death. I'm not afraid to die. I would miss those I love at this point in my life but I truly don't think it would devastate me. I honor the life and death cycle. I deeply believe that we are meant to live only as long as we are given, whatever time period that is. I've known people and animals who've died early in life and then those who have had long, vibrant lives. I don't feel cheated by their transitions. I don't feel like they have left me. I am grateful for their time in my life.
The deaths that have disturbed me the most are of those whose suffering has been long or those who have died suddenly by their own hand. I still struggle to understand suffering and its purpose in life. For now, I choose to honor the path that is unfolding in my life which ultimately I believe will have a balance of all things good and bad.
Because I was born to parents who were substantially older than many parents, I arrived into a family that caused me to be between the generations. My closest cousins were close to 20 years my senior and even my siblings, who were from a previous marriage, were close to that age difference as well. One of my paternal aunts, with whom I was very close, died when I was in my late 20's. My grandmother and my first best friend died before I was in fourth grade. As my uncles, cousins, other aunts, classmates, and friends have died, I have shifted in the way I relate to life. I do my best to cherish moments because I know in a very deep way that nothing is promised and life, in this form anyway, is limited. I miss a lot of biological family who have died. Friends and acquaintances, many from another time and place, I miss and yet know our parting was meant to be.
The animals I have loved so dearly who have left my care have also changed me. Some have died due to old age, illness, by assistance of a veterinarian, or gone on to another home through adoption or foster care. When I think of the animals that have touched my life, I think of my father's bassets and my mother and her beautiful collies. The lovely gray and white tabby cats, wonderful potbelly pigs, regal Old English Sheepdogs and many more who have influenced my life in powerful ways have helped to mold who I have become.
Suffering upsets me quite a bit. It disturbs me far more to see suffering than to see death. I'm not afraid to die. I would miss those I love at this point in my life but I truly don't think it would devastate me. I honor the life and death cycle. I deeply believe that we are meant to live only as long as we are given, whatever time period that is. I've known people and animals who've died early in life and then those who have had long, vibrant lives. I don't feel cheated by their transitions. I don't feel like they have left me. I am grateful for their time in my life.
The deaths that have disturbed me the most are of those whose suffering has been long or those who have died suddenly by their own hand. I still struggle to understand suffering and its purpose in life. For now, I choose to honor the path that is unfolding in my life which ultimately I believe will have a balance of all things good and bad.
Anger, the power and passion of it
One of the things I really like about myself is that I get angry about certain things consistently. I'm not one to get enraged over what I would consider minor things: last minute changes, losing something, getting lost, or lots of traffic on the road. My anger tends to be about intentional malicious behavior or people believing they understand when obviously they do not. I'm usually not one to ask several people what they think on an issue. If there is a spiritual or philosophical question I have, then I may ask people in my life but I don't live my life based on others' thoughts about issues.
I do not have a quick temper. It takes a lot for me to go from frustrated to downright anger. I have a very slow burn and a very long memory. I can forgive people for their choices in behavior. Once someone engages in something that feels very painful to me, I have a real challenge forgetting the incident. I can move on but often what happens is that I distance myself from the situation and the person.
I respect people that I can honorably disagree with and still hold a connection. I understand that we all see life and circumstances differently. One of my latest irritants is the pattern of some people with disabilities believing that know what it's like for others with disabilities. One disability does not equate to another. Just like there are various forms of learning disabilities, traumatic brain injuries, and neurological conditions among others, there are a plethora of ways of adapting to them. When someone takes a limited viewpoint and assumes others feel the same way, this can create a myriad of problems.
Perhaps I should not be surprised. After all, those without disabilities disagree on what's right and wrong and how life should be lived so why would those with disabilities be any different? Looking at life choices from a stance of fear, in my opinion, only leads to more fear, resentment and anger. I understand that we don't all need to agree. What pushes my anger button is the arrogance and ignorance that some have in assessing what is best for those of us with challenges. It's easy to become so short sighted that you believe your way is the only way.
There is definitely a line between standing up for yourself and finding compassion for others. Even very kind hearted people can miss the point of being helpful. I once knew a woman who insisted upon setting the brakes on a patient's wheelchair. The patient had her good days and bad and wanted to be more independent. When I suggested that perhaps the patient would like to do what she could, I was told: "I will help her. She needs me."
I want to be as independent as I can be. Some days that's more, some days that's less. Personally, I don't appreciate another's evaluation of what is best for me especially when it is based on opinions rather than quantitative facts.
Anger, I believe, is a fire that can be used to channel energy and motivation. It can also be destructive and destroy the one who holds it. For me, anger can be both. I'm still working on finding the balance between entitlement and empowerment.
I do not have a quick temper. It takes a lot for me to go from frustrated to downright anger. I have a very slow burn and a very long memory. I can forgive people for their choices in behavior. Once someone engages in something that feels very painful to me, I have a real challenge forgetting the incident. I can move on but often what happens is that I distance myself from the situation and the person.
I respect people that I can honorably disagree with and still hold a connection. I understand that we all see life and circumstances differently. One of my latest irritants is the pattern of some people with disabilities believing that know what it's like for others with disabilities. One disability does not equate to another. Just like there are various forms of learning disabilities, traumatic brain injuries, and neurological conditions among others, there are a plethora of ways of adapting to them. When someone takes a limited viewpoint and assumes others feel the same way, this can create a myriad of problems.
Perhaps I should not be surprised. After all, those without disabilities disagree on what's right and wrong and how life should be lived so why would those with disabilities be any different? Looking at life choices from a stance of fear, in my opinion, only leads to more fear, resentment and anger. I understand that we don't all need to agree. What pushes my anger button is the arrogance and ignorance that some have in assessing what is best for those of us with challenges. It's easy to become so short sighted that you believe your way is the only way.
There is definitely a line between standing up for yourself and finding compassion for others. Even very kind hearted people can miss the point of being helpful. I once knew a woman who insisted upon setting the brakes on a patient's wheelchair. The patient had her good days and bad and wanted to be more independent. When I suggested that perhaps the patient would like to do what she could, I was told: "I will help her. She needs me."
I want to be as independent as I can be. Some days that's more, some days that's less. Personally, I don't appreciate another's evaluation of what is best for me especially when it is based on opinions rather than quantitative facts.
Anger, I believe, is a fire that can be used to channel energy and motivation. It can also be destructive and destroy the one who holds it. For me, anger can be both. I'm still working on finding the balance between entitlement and empowerment.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Who were you?
For many people, the person that holds the title "father" is a very loving and supportive soul. That was not the case for me. I had no stepfather or substitute dad, I had only one biological father. My father was named after the Jewish prophet, Saadiah Goen. My grandfather, Benjamin, was a great student of literature and Jewish history and he felt his youngest son best fit the passion of this leader. Intensity was not something my father lacked. He was a man who was a mixture of intellect, rigidity, kindness, stubbornness, pride, sadness and anger.
He had great respect for his parents, both first generation immigrants. To him, their sacrifices and wisdom were to be honored. Although my father, Sid, was not in any way a religious man, he did identify his ethnicity as Jewish. He was not quite the atheists my grandparents were, but he definitely questioned the spirituality of life. Ironic that my grandparents and my father were quite intuitive.
My father was 48 years old when I was born. My mother was his only wife who he married two years prior. He was a good provider and treated my mother's children from a previous marriage in a respectful manner. My father was a kind man. He often helped to care for the pets of friends and neighbors. Frequently, he would offer a ride to a stranger or be particularly helpful to the family of friends.
There was however another side to this man. After the years of neighborhood baseball and pick up football games, jobs in canning factories, and being a hired hand at local farms, he took to being in the Navy for a year and then two decades in the Merchant Marines. His service time encompassed World War II and his love of travel and anthropology took him to many countries around the world. There were many things my father never talked about. He rarely spoke of fellow servicemen, battles, or casualties. His sentiment about the war was remarkable in some ways. Despite my aunt, his older sister, being very negative towards Germany after the war my father actually felt a great deal of compassion. He believed strongly that Germany had suffered a great deal during and after the war and that much of the cruelty that occurred was strongly guided by Russian rather than German forces.
He was a man who had very, very rigid beliefs about right and wrong. Although he had compassion for those who were struggling many times, there were several occasions where his sentiment was nothing short of ruthless and he displayed the violence to show it. For many years he was a very athletic man and even wrestled professionally before the antics of today's wrestlers. He believed strongly in defending what he believed was important and nothing, human or animal, could easily stop his force once initiated.
His temper, which he often described as causing him to see red, was something we all understood. There were certain things that were never said or done around him. It was just the way it was. He was adamant about being strong and weakness in most forms was completely and utterly unacceptable. I remember he was once in the hospital and had received a spinal block. As he was laying flat upon his bed, he demanded that my mother and I leave so we should not see him in a weakened state. Although he had some kindness towards those with certain illnesses, he was ruthlessly unforgiving for those who would choose to be weak. Strength was a most valuable virtue in his eyes.
I never heard the words: "I love you" or "I'm proud of you" ever leave my father's mouth though I would think on some level both were true. He made certain sacrifices for others: not playing football in high school so he wouldn't upset his mother, graduating high school so he would not disappoint his parents, leaving the house so my mother could meet with people he didn't like, and taking his daughter to dog shows so she could showcase her prized pup in a community quite a ways from home.
In retrospect, I can see some signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in my father. He didn't like crowds, going out, most loud noises, or close interaction. Because he was away at sea early in my life, I never bonded with him enough to call him by anything other than his first name and even that wasn't until much later in my life. I never had a daddy and quite honestly I don't really think I had a dad either. I had a man, a stranger in many ways, who was my male biological parent.
Since living in the desert I have discovered a cactus called a cholla. Affectionately it's called a teddy bear cactus which I believe is a cruel joke. The barbs for this cactus can get in the skin and must be removed with pliers, a less than pleasant activity. These plants make the briars from back East look positively harmless. My father reminds me of a cholla in some ways. He could cause a violent impression and yet at times appear quite harmless.
I don't hate the memory of my father or even the man himself. I feel sad, jipped you might say. In the 7 years since his death at the age of 91, I still wonder about who this man really was. What thoughts and feelings did he have that none of us ever knew? Who was he really? I would like to believe that I have taken on the best of what this man offered me. He did teach me things and his love of childhood stories, mysteries, and diversity have left a huge impression upon me. The effects of having an emotionally distant, perhaps some would say broken, man as a mentor is something from which I am still recovering. Although the adult in me knows, he truly did do the best he could, the child in me wonders why I was not enough for him to be warm, loving, and gentle.
Recovery and spirituality have overlapped a lot for me. Recognizing that the behavior of others has little to nothing to do with me has been a real challenge for me to accept. Realizing that we all come from backgrounds that are less than what we wished they were is very real for most of us. My father, Sid, was in some ways a man among men. In other ways, he was a very fearful little boy afraid to give and receive love at the most basic of levels.
He had great respect for his parents, both first generation immigrants. To him, their sacrifices and wisdom were to be honored. Although my father, Sid, was not in any way a religious man, he did identify his ethnicity as Jewish. He was not quite the atheists my grandparents were, but he definitely questioned the spirituality of life. Ironic that my grandparents and my father were quite intuitive.
My father was 48 years old when I was born. My mother was his only wife who he married two years prior. He was a good provider and treated my mother's children from a previous marriage in a respectful manner. My father was a kind man. He often helped to care for the pets of friends and neighbors. Frequently, he would offer a ride to a stranger or be particularly helpful to the family of friends.
There was however another side to this man. After the years of neighborhood baseball and pick up football games, jobs in canning factories, and being a hired hand at local farms, he took to being in the Navy for a year and then two decades in the Merchant Marines. His service time encompassed World War II and his love of travel and anthropology took him to many countries around the world. There were many things my father never talked about. He rarely spoke of fellow servicemen, battles, or casualties. His sentiment about the war was remarkable in some ways. Despite my aunt, his older sister, being very negative towards Germany after the war my father actually felt a great deal of compassion. He believed strongly that Germany had suffered a great deal during and after the war and that much of the cruelty that occurred was strongly guided by Russian rather than German forces.
He was a man who had very, very rigid beliefs about right and wrong. Although he had compassion for those who were struggling many times, there were several occasions where his sentiment was nothing short of ruthless and he displayed the violence to show it. For many years he was a very athletic man and even wrestled professionally before the antics of today's wrestlers. He believed strongly in defending what he believed was important and nothing, human or animal, could easily stop his force once initiated.
His temper, which he often described as causing him to see red, was something we all understood. There were certain things that were never said or done around him. It was just the way it was. He was adamant about being strong and weakness in most forms was completely and utterly unacceptable. I remember he was once in the hospital and had received a spinal block. As he was laying flat upon his bed, he demanded that my mother and I leave so we should not see him in a weakened state. Although he had some kindness towards those with certain illnesses, he was ruthlessly unforgiving for those who would choose to be weak. Strength was a most valuable virtue in his eyes.
I never heard the words: "I love you" or "I'm proud of you" ever leave my father's mouth though I would think on some level both were true. He made certain sacrifices for others: not playing football in high school so he wouldn't upset his mother, graduating high school so he would not disappoint his parents, leaving the house so my mother could meet with people he didn't like, and taking his daughter to dog shows so she could showcase her prized pup in a community quite a ways from home.
In retrospect, I can see some signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in my father. He didn't like crowds, going out, most loud noises, or close interaction. Because he was away at sea early in my life, I never bonded with him enough to call him by anything other than his first name and even that wasn't until much later in my life. I never had a daddy and quite honestly I don't really think I had a dad either. I had a man, a stranger in many ways, who was my male biological parent.
Since living in the desert I have discovered a cactus called a cholla. Affectionately it's called a teddy bear cactus which I believe is a cruel joke. The barbs for this cactus can get in the skin and must be removed with pliers, a less than pleasant activity. These plants make the briars from back East look positively harmless. My father reminds me of a cholla in some ways. He could cause a violent impression and yet at times appear quite harmless.
I don't hate the memory of my father or even the man himself. I feel sad, jipped you might say. In the 7 years since his death at the age of 91, I still wonder about who this man really was. What thoughts and feelings did he have that none of us ever knew? Who was he really? I would like to believe that I have taken on the best of what this man offered me. He did teach me things and his love of childhood stories, mysteries, and diversity have left a huge impression upon me. The effects of having an emotionally distant, perhaps some would say broken, man as a mentor is something from which I am still recovering. Although the adult in me knows, he truly did do the best he could, the child in me wonders why I was not enough for him to be warm, loving, and gentle.
Recovery and spirituality have overlapped a lot for me. Recognizing that the behavior of others has little to nothing to do with me has been a real challenge for me to accept. Realizing that we all come from backgrounds that are less than what we wished they were is very real for most of us. My father, Sid, was in some ways a man among men. In other ways, he was a very fearful little boy afraid to give and receive love at the most basic of levels.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Am I really crazy?
The movie "Gaslight" was adapted from the UK version "The Murder in Thornton Square" which shows psychological manipulation now known as gaslighting. Dr. Robin Norwood's book "The Gaslight Effect" describes people who frequently fall victim to this behavior as bright, naive, kind, loving people. Because the behavior often begins in a very subtle manner, the person is often overwhelmed before they realize what is happening to them. Those who engage in gaslighting are often people who fit criteria or at least the traits of those who have Axis II or personality disorders such as antisocial, narcissistic, borderline among others. These people are inherently wired to behave in a manipulative fashion. Most of the time, they are not fully aware of their behavior or if they are seem quite unable to change it. This could be due to chemical, social, or physical effects present in and around them.
John Bradshaw, noted addictions counselor and educator, often used a mobile to describe family dynamics. His premise was that if one part of the mobile moved, then all the rest of the parts would be affected. This observation is very relevant to me. Lots of theories and observations are very narrow in scope. Life is not narrow and our experiences are multifaceted. Because of Mr. Bradshaw's observations, it's very clear to me that we are all made up of lots of different energies and when we interact with one another they are magnified. So for example, when I was growing up I had lots of dynamics at play. I was my mother's third child, my father's only child, my parents were older, much older, when I was born. My mother was 41 and my dad was 48. That in and of itself could set up a cascade for lots of issues. Throw in that like most families, mine had their own dysfunctions and trauma, and I have a genetic deletion along with early physical trauma and there is the beginning of a fast moving mobile.
I was raised in a very rural area with very limited opportunities for healthy interaction and I became very withdrawn. My sadness and isolation only grew in intensity until I began high school. It wasn't until then when I began to meet other people who I connected with and truly enjoyed being around. The last semester of my senior year of high school I was forced to limit my classes and begin taking courses through a junior college. That shift along with breaking up with a long time friend/boyfriend caused a huge upheaval in my world. Without the support I needed, I headed into my first unhealthy relationship. The young man who behaved as a small child fit almost every descriptor for a sociopath. My naive background did not prepare me for his host of tricks. I am so grateful that the Divine intervened and our relationship was cut short with him going off to prison. My family, and my uncle in particular, could not understand how I could possibly get involved with the likes of him. What my uncle didn't realize was that I genuinely wanted to help this boy and that no amount of logical reasoning from my aunts was going to replace the loving words this person gave me. Whether he meant them or not was irrelevant. I so desperately wanted and needed to hear them.
After several kind but unsatisfying relationships, I did well in college and still had my battles with very deep depression. I had no idea of my significant visual spatial impairments, dyslexia or the damage to my parietal lobes. I was still searching to understand my past and my ever frequent dissociation based drowsiness. By the time I was ready to leave New Jersey, I was pretty overwhelmed. I had a long stack of grief, depression that needed medication to stabilize, and neurological issues that were getting more pronounced as I grew older. When I met my ex-husband, he seemed like a genuinely nice man. He was bright and although rather quiet, he appeared to have a kind heart and a generous spirit. What I didn't know was how dark his internal world was. After years of being away from him, I am more fully realizing how challenged he was and how much he had been engaging in gaslighting. I began the relationship tired but still young enough to have fire to fight the good fight. By the end of 11 years, I was drained, exhausted and emotionally devastated.
Since that time, I have found a deep love for writing and seeing the world through a much more spiritual lens. My current relationship is not without issues but it is genuine, honest, kind and sincerely loving. Faith and connection have set the stage for my healing. Finding out how compromised my neurological system is hitting me very hard. Realizing how much grief, betrayal, trauma and dysfunction has affected me is still rocking my world.
Dr. Norwood talks about how gaslighting doesn't happen to people because they are stupid or foolish. Rather it's often because they are kind and loving people who want to see the best in others. Gaslighting can be very subtle or downright obvious, especially to those on the outside of the relationship. Finding trust and integrity in a world that can often appear to have none is a real challenge for me each day.
My energy levels, disabilities, trauma, and healing are guideposts that I sometimes still bump into when I least expect it. It's my hope that as we reflect back on our lives that we can see the good with the bad and come away from it knowing that our lives are very multidimensional and that just like John Bradshaw's mobile, they shift and re-balance often throughout our lives.
John Bradshaw, noted addictions counselor and educator, often used a mobile to describe family dynamics. His premise was that if one part of the mobile moved, then all the rest of the parts would be affected. This observation is very relevant to me. Lots of theories and observations are very narrow in scope. Life is not narrow and our experiences are multifaceted. Because of Mr. Bradshaw's observations, it's very clear to me that we are all made up of lots of different energies and when we interact with one another they are magnified. So for example, when I was growing up I had lots of dynamics at play. I was my mother's third child, my father's only child, my parents were older, much older, when I was born. My mother was 41 and my dad was 48. That in and of itself could set up a cascade for lots of issues. Throw in that like most families, mine had their own dysfunctions and trauma, and I have a genetic deletion along with early physical trauma and there is the beginning of a fast moving mobile.
I was raised in a very rural area with very limited opportunities for healthy interaction and I became very withdrawn. My sadness and isolation only grew in intensity until I began high school. It wasn't until then when I began to meet other people who I connected with and truly enjoyed being around. The last semester of my senior year of high school I was forced to limit my classes and begin taking courses through a junior college. That shift along with breaking up with a long time friend/boyfriend caused a huge upheaval in my world. Without the support I needed, I headed into my first unhealthy relationship. The young man who behaved as a small child fit almost every descriptor for a sociopath. My naive background did not prepare me for his host of tricks. I am so grateful that the Divine intervened and our relationship was cut short with him going off to prison. My family, and my uncle in particular, could not understand how I could possibly get involved with the likes of him. What my uncle didn't realize was that I genuinely wanted to help this boy and that no amount of logical reasoning from my aunts was going to replace the loving words this person gave me. Whether he meant them or not was irrelevant. I so desperately wanted and needed to hear them.
After several kind but unsatisfying relationships, I did well in college and still had my battles with very deep depression. I had no idea of my significant visual spatial impairments, dyslexia or the damage to my parietal lobes. I was still searching to understand my past and my ever frequent dissociation based drowsiness. By the time I was ready to leave New Jersey, I was pretty overwhelmed. I had a long stack of grief, depression that needed medication to stabilize, and neurological issues that were getting more pronounced as I grew older. When I met my ex-husband, he seemed like a genuinely nice man. He was bright and although rather quiet, he appeared to have a kind heart and a generous spirit. What I didn't know was how dark his internal world was. After years of being away from him, I am more fully realizing how challenged he was and how much he had been engaging in gaslighting. I began the relationship tired but still young enough to have fire to fight the good fight. By the end of 11 years, I was drained, exhausted and emotionally devastated.
Since that time, I have found a deep love for writing and seeing the world through a much more spiritual lens. My current relationship is not without issues but it is genuine, honest, kind and sincerely loving. Faith and connection have set the stage for my healing. Finding out how compromised my neurological system is hitting me very hard. Realizing how much grief, betrayal, trauma and dysfunction has affected me is still rocking my world.
Dr. Norwood talks about how gaslighting doesn't happen to people because they are stupid or foolish. Rather it's often because they are kind and loving people who want to see the best in others. Gaslighting can be very subtle or downright obvious, especially to those on the outside of the relationship. Finding trust and integrity in a world that can often appear to have none is a real challenge for me each day.
My energy levels, disabilities, trauma, and healing are guideposts that I sometimes still bump into when I least expect it. It's my hope that as we reflect back on our lives that we can see the good with the bad and come away from it knowing that our lives are very multidimensional and that just like John Bradshaw's mobile, they shift and re-balance often throughout our lives.
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