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
Thursday, June 11, 2015
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.
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.
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