I've heard people say that when someone close to you dies, you are never the same. Many people and animals have left this world and I am left to ponder their impressions on my life. I miss their physical presence yet appreciate their time on this earth has passed. In some ways the era that included them still lingers within me. Who I was at that time and my experiences because of it keep my memories fresh. Transitioning to who I am now in a new way is sometimes where I struggle.
I have a friend who tried to be gentle in telling me that my mannerisms and words are very reflective of my Northeastern background. He quickly added: "Not that that's a bad thing." He did his best to compliment my fire and acknowledge that some parts of me are just me at my core. I wonder if some of who I appear to be at my core is partly a shadow of my life with those who have passed. How much am I still my father's child? Are the dogs of my past still influencing my behaviors right now? Is the love I shared with my potbelly pig still affecting the way I see pets and pet pigs in general? Am I a different person because of the time I spent enjoying my horse Jazz?
I'm sure that we all are a combination of experiences and wisdom brought about by past moments. My curiosity is about who affected what and how much of my loneliness is brought about by being forced into an era that is without those of the past who I loved so much. I'm not angry about the loss of those I loved. I'm tired and struggling with adapting to new moments. It's not that I don't wish to grow as a person. It feels more like I keep pushing more and more into unknown territory.
Maybe that's part of why we all endure grief to one degree or another, to push past what is uncomfortable to us. I appreciate a lot of our technological world but I miss writing snail mail. I love that my experience of the world is broader and richer than it used to be yet I still miss what used to be perceived as safe and small. I guess grief has many gifts, not least of which is to push us into seeking new experiences and realizing how limited we can be if we allow it.
I cherish who I was and I wonder who I will evolve into being. Grief feels so multi-level for me. Not only does it seem to pass through stages, it also appears to shift in between levels of depth and meaning. I'm sure we all experience grief in our own unique way. At times it's an incredibly powerful motivator and gift and at others it appears as an impassable blockage of the heart. How we recognize, acknowledge and appreciate our grief is definitely our own. It can be the difference between cherishing the life we have and staying stuck in the depths of our pain.
I don't like being forced into changing yet I know change would not happen for me if I was just given a choice. Grief like change of any kind takes on the energy that we give it. For me, I choose to honor, feel and appreciate all that comes with grief and know I will become uniquely empowered because of it.
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.
Thursday, June 11, 2015
And you're a doctor?
As I sat dazed and confused in yet another specialist's office today, I came to a conclusion on an issue that I have pondered. I decided that today's visit was with a doctor who honestly believed what he said. He truly believed that none of my stress, traumatic brain injury, or genetic glitches mattered. He truly thought that my diet was the cause of all of my challenges. The fact that I didn't consume any of the foods that he mentioned was apparently beside the point. I don't drink soda, any soda, and haven't for years. This fact seems to puzzle doctors especially those who see case after case of health issues related to eating high sugar/highly processsed foods. It seems inconceivable to many doctors who believe this way that traumatic stress could damage the endocrine system significantly or that head trauma could unbalance the major hormones of the body.
I listened, though reluctantly, to a doctor who prided himself on taking a drug to lower his already normal cholesterol even though there is significant research that offers a different perspective. Inflammation, aggravated by stress along with numerous other things, is being shown more and more to be a major indicator of illness. My inflammation level has been elevated for years. Because of my years of elevated stress along with the long term effects of my traumatic brain damage, I have had quite a hit to my adrenal glands which I believe are contributing to my array of symptoms. As I search more and more for natural answers to my challenges, I am sad to say I am seeing a very disturbing pattern.
More and more medical professionals are not only not talking about the effects of trauma but they are out and out denying it. When I asked this specialist about the effect of stress on someone's health, his response was: "It's minimal at best." I almost could not believe what I had heard! Is anyone truly so vain that they would walk up to anyone with traumatic brain damage and say: "Yea, so that war, abuse, humiliation, beating, neglect thing, it doesn't matter. Just suck it up." Stress, if prolonged and/or severe enough, can tax the adrenal glands to the degree that they stop working entirely and then hormones need to be replaced for the rest of one's life. To suggest that the pain of trauma is a minor disruption is to be closed off from the reality that is! Trauma is real! It's life altering! It disrupts our body in a myriad of ways and to be blind to it is nothing short of criminal in my opinion!
I have almost given up the concept of a family doctor who knew the history of his/her patients, their families, and the stresses of life. I don't expect a visit with a psychologist when I see a physician, but I do expect that my trauma which has forever changed my life not be overlooked! It's painfully clear that human suffering is often dismissed in a way that seems quite beyond humane! The medical profession is so divided into specialties that few doctors even have a basic understanding or appreciation of head trauma and its prevalence in our society.
I remember seeing a poster that showed different faces of people of various ages and ethnicities with the caption of "what alcoholism looks like". It stays as a very powerful part of my memory. The arrogance and ignorance of believing that someone, anyone, knows what disabilities look like takes me somewhere deep into my own rage. Invisible disabilities are everywhere. Just because there is not a cane, a wheelchair or a walker does NOT mean there is not a disability! How dare anyone be so conceited as to determine the worthiness of disability based on age, gender, ethnicity, military service, or physical size!
The US is now a country that is seeing very young veterans returning home disabled. This is not the first time in history when this has occurred. Veterans of another time are often shocked to see the results of those coming back from down range. Civilians disabled by the abuse, addictions, and mental illness of others is a nasty blemish on the perfect American dream. Those of us who are forever changed by the behavior of others have been silenced for too long, least of which is by the medical professionals trained to supposedly help us! Enough!
I am aware of the Hippocratic oath which seems to be lost somewhere in the chaos of insurance, pharmaceuticals, office appointments, arrogance, and entitlement. There are some genuinely kind and compassionate physicians for whom I am most grateful. As for those, both medical and non medical persons, who choose to believe that they know all of what is wrong with another without even considering the traumatic side of life, I wish you insight. I wish you compassion and in order to do so, I must find a place inside for my own compassion to grow. Perhaps my own arrogance has limited my ability to see the compassion in others, if so, I sincerely apologize. If not, I seek to offer a different perspective and one that needs to be seen, heard, and felt. Let us take time to acknowledge the pain in another and that does not happen by assuming we already know.
http://www.sott.net/article/242516-Heart-surgeon-speaks-out-on-what-really-causes-heart-disease
http://www.nih.gov/news/pr/sep2002/nichd-09.htm
I listened, though reluctantly, to a doctor who prided himself on taking a drug to lower his already normal cholesterol even though there is significant research that offers a different perspective. Inflammation, aggravated by stress along with numerous other things, is being shown more and more to be a major indicator of illness. My inflammation level has been elevated for years. Because of my years of elevated stress along with the long term effects of my traumatic brain damage, I have had quite a hit to my adrenal glands which I believe are contributing to my array of symptoms. As I search more and more for natural answers to my challenges, I am sad to say I am seeing a very disturbing pattern.
More and more medical professionals are not only not talking about the effects of trauma but they are out and out denying it. When I asked this specialist about the effect of stress on someone's health, his response was: "It's minimal at best." I almost could not believe what I had heard! Is anyone truly so vain that they would walk up to anyone with traumatic brain damage and say: "Yea, so that war, abuse, humiliation, beating, neglect thing, it doesn't matter. Just suck it up." Stress, if prolonged and/or severe enough, can tax the adrenal glands to the degree that they stop working entirely and then hormones need to be replaced for the rest of one's life. To suggest that the pain of trauma is a minor disruption is to be closed off from the reality that is! Trauma is real! It's life altering! It disrupts our body in a myriad of ways and to be blind to it is nothing short of criminal in my opinion!
I have almost given up the concept of a family doctor who knew the history of his/her patients, their families, and the stresses of life. I don't expect a visit with a psychologist when I see a physician, but I do expect that my trauma which has forever changed my life not be overlooked! It's painfully clear that human suffering is often dismissed in a way that seems quite beyond humane! The medical profession is so divided into specialties that few doctors even have a basic understanding or appreciation of head trauma and its prevalence in our society.
I remember seeing a poster that showed different faces of people of various ages and ethnicities with the caption of "what alcoholism looks like". It stays as a very powerful part of my memory. The arrogance and ignorance of believing that someone, anyone, knows what disabilities look like takes me somewhere deep into my own rage. Invisible disabilities are everywhere. Just because there is not a cane, a wheelchair or a walker does NOT mean there is not a disability! How dare anyone be so conceited as to determine the worthiness of disability based on age, gender, ethnicity, military service, or physical size!
The US is now a country that is seeing very young veterans returning home disabled. This is not the first time in history when this has occurred. Veterans of another time are often shocked to see the results of those coming back from down range. Civilians disabled by the abuse, addictions, and mental illness of others is a nasty blemish on the perfect American dream. Those of us who are forever changed by the behavior of others have been silenced for too long, least of which is by the medical professionals trained to supposedly help us! Enough!
I am aware of the Hippocratic oath which seems to be lost somewhere in the chaos of insurance, pharmaceuticals, office appointments, arrogance, and entitlement. There are some genuinely kind and compassionate physicians for whom I am most grateful. As for those, both medical and non medical persons, who choose to believe that they know all of what is wrong with another without even considering the traumatic side of life, I wish you insight. I wish you compassion and in order to do so, I must find a place inside for my own compassion to grow. Perhaps my own arrogance has limited my ability to see the compassion in others, if so, I sincerely apologize. If not, I seek to offer a different perspective and one that needs to be seen, heard, and felt. Let us take time to acknowledge the pain in another and that does not happen by assuming we already know.
http://www.sott.net/article/242516-Heart-surgeon-speaks-out-on-what-really-causes-heart-disease
http://www.nih.gov/news/pr/sep2002/nichd-09.htm
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.
It hurts my heart
Being from New Jersey during a lot of the racial tensions happening in the US, I saw first hand the confusion and pain that comes from deep rooted fear. When I was a small girl, my parents had neighbors who were a family that had multicultural relationships several generations back. Two of the daughters were in high school in the early seventies and I remember one of them saying: "I don't want to have to pick a side. I just want to learn." Even as a young child I felt her pain in not wanting to choose a racial identity. She was the child of many cultures: Native American, African American and an array of European ethnicities. It hurt me to hear this young woman speak so passionately on how she was forced to choose or have her loyalty be chosen for her.
While working in Atlantic City, most of the members of my closest circles were African Americans. I remember the looks when we would walk into a nightclub and I was usually one of only a handful of Caucasians. My friends were very loyal and their response to most of the judgmental sentiment around was: "She's with us". I did my best to return the favor when a friend, who was African American, and I went to lunch. The wait staff was less than thrilled of who my dining partner was and little things began to add up. My salad was prettier than hers. My refills were faster. My dessert looked just a bit nicer than hers. I was enraged; my friend was aware. We decided that a tip that reflected OUR service was to make one point and a chat with the manager was to make another. I remember that day and I remember feeling horrible about what happened. My friend did her best to explain to me how often these kinds of things happened to her. We made a pact that day that others' biases would not stop our friendship or our enjoying life! The shame I felt for the behavior, which was not my fault, stays with me to this day.
I remember applying for a job working in the changing county welfare system in Atlantic City. My interview questions were direct and powerful and I watched as my multicultural interviewers shifted in their opinion of this "white girl". I got the job and I remember the biases of my co-workers when I went to go sit and visit with our clients. None of them, regardless of race, even seemed to see me when I was with our clients. Apparently some biases go way beyond race.
When I was in Trenton, I worked in an inner city methadone clinic. Methadone is a synthetic form of an opiate. It is often given to heroin dependent addicts in an attempt to wean them off of drugs and/or help them to work and be self sufficient while on a prescribed medication. Methadone is very addictive and I saw few clients actually be able to go drug free. What I did see was over a 60% full time employment rate, which was higher than most methadone clinics in the state. I had many clients who tested me to see if I could cut being their counselor. One of my most challenging clients was an African American woman who screamed at me: "How dare you care about me? Who the hell do you think you are?" She and I did come to some agreements and I watched her melt into an incredibly gentle, caring, kind person who was astonished that anyone, much less a white girl, could honor her being.
One of my other clients from that time was an African American man who struggled with alcoholism and was on parole for rape. He had deep eyes that could be amazingly gentle or hostile depending on the day. After testing me for months, he finally said: "Your kindness to me is surprising. I don't know why you are like this but I thank God for you."
I remember reading a story about two young boys who were from Newark who returned a wallet. They were both African American and the headline was about how wonderful it was that they were honest. A friend of mine from Newark, who was a very kind, honest, African American man said: "How sad is this that it made the headlines?" I would agree. This was also the same man who frequently got followed every night by the local police because he worked a late shift and walked from the train station to his apartment in a predominately Caucasian neighborhood.
Atlantic City, Trenton, Newark among other cities in New Jersey are known for having predominately minority communities. I was blessed to know some very loving people who resided in these places.
One of my most difficult experiences was working in Georgia in the 1980's. The program I speak of was for children and young adults who had mental health issues and had been caught up in the juvenile system. I was horrified to see our clients brought to us by law enforcement in handcuffs and shackles. This outrageous treatment of human beings was not the worst I saw in Georgia. The campuses of this program were still segregated, something which I thought had ended decades before. The biases of people in Georgia from the Caucasian director who found me way too opinionated for my own good, to my incredibly racist landlord, to my college experiences which involved being followed and ticketed because I dare befriend a classmate who was African American still are emblazoned in my heart. I was stunned over the outrageous prejudice and racism all around me.
Every storm has a gentle rainbow and for me it was my friendship with a co-worker who was an amazingly kind and loving man. He was a very religious, dark skinned, African American man who did his best to explain to my angry, hostile, narrow minded youthful ignorance that hate solved nothing. His words: "Sue, I've been hated for who I am and what I look like all my life. Hating solves nothing. Only love changes hate." I truly honored this man and was grateful he was one of the people the administration deemed professional. I watched our clients in that program be nurtured by him and our direct care staff, all of whom were African American. Most of the "professional" staff was Caucasian. I watched these children be loved and nourished by people the system deemed uneducated. Our kids got well despite our professional interventions in my opinion. Love is what healed them, I know. Georgia is still not a place I can think of without pain yet I learned so much during those times.
I have struggled to love that which I find painful, heartbreaking, cruel, violent, and dishonorable. This world is full of hate. It's all around us and sadly often within us. Loving that which is so wicked is not to give it power or justification. It is rather to honor the Divine and the power that faith, grace, and spiritual love can bring to any situation.
There are cultures, languages, countries, traditions, and behaviors I don't understand nor do I pretend to, that occur around me all the time. I am humbled by the power of God's love to transform hate. I don't honor cruelty, viciousness or bias. I am realizing more and more how hating hate solves nothing. Hate is so alluring. It gives such an illusion of power when in reality it is empty and impotent.
I believe the world is a violent and hateful place often, yet it is never without love, kindness and grace. I choose to live my life taking responsibility for my fears, biases, and confusion. I am an earthly mortal doing my best to honor my own spark of Divinity.
While working in Atlantic City, most of the members of my closest circles were African Americans. I remember the looks when we would walk into a nightclub and I was usually one of only a handful of Caucasians. My friends were very loyal and their response to most of the judgmental sentiment around was: "She's with us". I did my best to return the favor when a friend, who was African American, and I went to lunch. The wait staff was less than thrilled of who my dining partner was and little things began to add up. My salad was prettier than hers. My refills were faster. My dessert looked just a bit nicer than hers. I was enraged; my friend was aware. We decided that a tip that reflected OUR service was to make one point and a chat with the manager was to make another. I remember that day and I remember feeling horrible about what happened. My friend did her best to explain to me how often these kinds of things happened to her. We made a pact that day that others' biases would not stop our friendship or our enjoying life! The shame I felt for the behavior, which was not my fault, stays with me to this day.
I remember applying for a job working in the changing county welfare system in Atlantic City. My interview questions were direct and powerful and I watched as my multicultural interviewers shifted in their opinion of this "white girl". I got the job and I remember the biases of my co-workers when I went to go sit and visit with our clients. None of them, regardless of race, even seemed to see me when I was with our clients. Apparently some biases go way beyond race.
When I was in Trenton, I worked in an inner city methadone clinic. Methadone is a synthetic form of an opiate. It is often given to heroin dependent addicts in an attempt to wean them off of drugs and/or help them to work and be self sufficient while on a prescribed medication. Methadone is very addictive and I saw few clients actually be able to go drug free. What I did see was over a 60% full time employment rate, which was higher than most methadone clinics in the state. I had many clients who tested me to see if I could cut being their counselor. One of my most challenging clients was an African American woman who screamed at me: "How dare you care about me? Who the hell do you think you are?" She and I did come to some agreements and I watched her melt into an incredibly gentle, caring, kind person who was astonished that anyone, much less a white girl, could honor her being.
One of my other clients from that time was an African American man who struggled with alcoholism and was on parole for rape. He had deep eyes that could be amazingly gentle or hostile depending on the day. After testing me for months, he finally said: "Your kindness to me is surprising. I don't know why you are like this but I thank God for you."
I remember reading a story about two young boys who were from Newark who returned a wallet. They were both African American and the headline was about how wonderful it was that they were honest. A friend of mine from Newark, who was a very kind, honest, African American man said: "How sad is this that it made the headlines?" I would agree. This was also the same man who frequently got followed every night by the local police because he worked a late shift and walked from the train station to his apartment in a predominately Caucasian neighborhood.
Atlantic City, Trenton, Newark among other cities in New Jersey are known for having predominately minority communities. I was blessed to know some very loving people who resided in these places.
One of my most difficult experiences was working in Georgia in the 1980's. The program I speak of was for children and young adults who had mental health issues and had been caught up in the juvenile system. I was horrified to see our clients brought to us by law enforcement in handcuffs and shackles. This outrageous treatment of human beings was not the worst I saw in Georgia. The campuses of this program were still segregated, something which I thought had ended decades before. The biases of people in Georgia from the Caucasian director who found me way too opinionated for my own good, to my incredibly racist landlord, to my college experiences which involved being followed and ticketed because I dare befriend a classmate who was African American still are emblazoned in my heart. I was stunned over the outrageous prejudice and racism all around me.
Every storm has a gentle rainbow and for me it was my friendship with a co-worker who was an amazingly kind and loving man. He was a very religious, dark skinned, African American man who did his best to explain to my angry, hostile, narrow minded youthful ignorance that hate solved nothing. His words: "Sue, I've been hated for who I am and what I look like all my life. Hating solves nothing. Only love changes hate." I truly honored this man and was grateful he was one of the people the administration deemed professional. I watched our clients in that program be nurtured by him and our direct care staff, all of whom were African American. Most of the "professional" staff was Caucasian. I watched these children be loved and nourished by people the system deemed uneducated. Our kids got well despite our professional interventions in my opinion. Love is what healed them, I know. Georgia is still not a place I can think of without pain yet I learned so much during those times.
I have struggled to love that which I find painful, heartbreaking, cruel, violent, and dishonorable. This world is full of hate. It's all around us and sadly often within us. Loving that which is so wicked is not to give it power or justification. It is rather to honor the Divine and the power that faith, grace, and spiritual love can bring to any situation.
There are cultures, languages, countries, traditions, and behaviors I don't understand nor do I pretend to, that occur around me all the time. I am humbled by the power of God's love to transform hate. I don't honor cruelty, viciousness or bias. I am realizing more and more how hating hate solves nothing. Hate is so alluring. It gives such an illusion of power when in reality it is empty and impotent.
I believe the world is a violent and hateful place often, yet it is never without love, kindness and grace. I choose to live my life taking responsibility for my fears, biases, and confusion. I am an earthly mortal doing my best to honor my own spark of Divinity.
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