Just another day in America: yet another mass shooting, the third in the span of 24 hours. Everyone is pointing the finger of blame at gun laws, but the real issue is mental health.
If one is mentally ill, it means they are crazy, right? Not so much, but that's exactly why people don't seek treatment for the way they feel, mentally, when they would absolutely seek treatment if they don't feel well, physically. An illness or physical injury can be fixed, but an illness in the brain just doesn't compute. We avoid those folks.
I am certainly no scholar of mental illnesses, but I understand that 90% of us avoid treatment for difficulties of the brain because we are afraid that we will be labeled as crazy, psychopathic, sociopathic, autistic, or otherwise just out of the norm.
So, what conditions make up mental illness? What are the labels?
Depression. Levels: suicidal, bipolar, clinical, situational.
Brain Injury. Causes: birth accidents, car accidents, serious concussions, brain bleeds.
Autism. Levels: a huge spectrum of functionality, from high to low.
Personality Disorders. Schizophrenia, Post Partum psychosis, Narcissism, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Reactive Attachment Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder..and the list is endless.
Dementia. Alzheimer's, Fronto-Temporal Degeneration, Lewy Body Dementia, all play a part in caring for elder loved ones.
In my 40 years of teaching, I encountered all of these with students. Hell, in my 71 years of living, I encountered them all without benefit of youthful ignorance. If I were to make an unscientific guess, I would say that 30% of the human population suffers from some sort of mental illness. That, of course, does not factor in alcohol or drugs which change human cognition. Add those, and the incidence goes way up. My best guess is that less than 10% of sufferers actually seek professional help. Why? Everything costs money, and mental health treatment is quite expensive and lengthy, and not always covered by insurance. Plus, even people who think they could use treatment wouldn't seek it because they would think of themselves as "crazy" and/or don't want to throw a pill at the problem.
Yesterday, I had occasion to talk to a doctor about my health. At one point, he asked about why I had never taken advantage of a certain medication that could have helped me. I confessed that it had scared me because, at the time, I was at a particularly dangerous episode in my mental health, and one of the side effects of the drug was the potential for suicidal depression. I told him that I desperately had called every place I could think of in those days to find help for myself, but didn't need a pill to push me over the edge..and that's when he went from treatment mode to listening mode. In short order, he confessed to me that his mother was schizophrenic and that his family had suffered greatly from it...and before my appointment was over, this man said, "I am here to help you. You are not alone." You can't possibly know how much that meant to me.
I can't fix the problems of the world, but I wish I could!
There is not a soul on the planet that wouldn't benefit from mental therapy. Not one!
And today marks a 24-hour period with three mass shootings in the United States.
How can we help our fellow Americans deal with their anger and disappointments??
I want my legacy to be more about how to help than how to criticize. Please help me spread the word!
Friday, September 21, 2018
Thursday, September 20, 2018
Lullabye to My Baby
When my daughter was born, we lived in a rented Craftsman home in Monee, Illinois.
The upstairs of that house contained two bedrooms and an under-eave closet room with no closet accessories. That under-eave room had a bare light bulb that hung down, slightly, with a chain to turn it on, and was only otherwise big enough to contain a changing table for the baby and a rocking chair. I spent many an hour in that little space, changing diapers and nursing/rocking my baby, sometimes in the wee hours of the night. I was often beyond tired. I sat and rocked and nursed, taking care of my child, wondering in my fatigue, who was going to take care of ME. As I rocked, I also hummed or sang, and my lullabye of choice was a quiet little song:
The moon is out; the stars are out.
It's time to go to bed.
I'm so glad you have this place
To lay your little head.
Have a deep and peaceful sleep.
Dream away the hours.
When you wake, the sun will come
To kiss the morning flowers.
Go to sleep, my little one,
Beneath the Evening Star.
You will always have a place,
No matter where you are.
We didn't have the Internet in those days (1979), so I don't have a clue where I knew the song from, but I have found it on YouTube. And although I remember the words a tiny bit differently, here it is:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrxBf4XMPK8
And it still makes me cry thinking about those quiet simple moments between mama and baby, who is and always was the light of my life.
The upstairs of that house contained two bedrooms and an under-eave closet room with no closet accessories. That under-eave room had a bare light bulb that hung down, slightly, with a chain to turn it on, and was only otherwise big enough to contain a changing table for the baby and a rocking chair. I spent many an hour in that little space, changing diapers and nursing/rocking my baby, sometimes in the wee hours of the night. I was often beyond tired. I sat and rocked and nursed, taking care of my child, wondering in my fatigue, who was going to take care of ME. As I rocked, I also hummed or sang, and my lullabye of choice was a quiet little song:
The moon is out; the stars are out.
It's time to go to bed.
I'm so glad you have this place
To lay your little head.
Have a deep and peaceful sleep.
Dream away the hours.
When you wake, the sun will come
To kiss the morning flowers.
Go to sleep, my little one,
Beneath the Evening Star.
You will always have a place,
No matter where you are.
We didn't have the Internet in those days (1979), so I don't have a clue where I knew the song from, but I have found it on YouTube. And although I remember the words a tiny bit differently, here it is:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrxBf4XMPK8
And it still makes me cry thinking about those quiet simple moments between mama and baby, who is and always was the light of my life.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
I Am Who I Am
Just had a lightbulb come on over my head. I confess that I rely too much on my own understanding to make sense of things, sometimes.
I've been teaching my adult Sunday School class for a few weeks now. This time, we are studying a book by Dr./Rev. Adam Hamilton called John, the Gospel of Light and Life. In it, there was a chapter about the "I am" statements of Jesus, which the author suggests relate back to God's message to Moses when he asked by what authority he should approach the Israelites with the Ten Commandments. God told him to tell them, "I am who I am."
Yeah...okay...well, I am who I am, too....so what? If someone were to ask you for your personal credentials, you would say, "I am a mother/father; I am a teacher/whatever; I am a child of God"; you are whatever in the world you are. But what does it MEAN??
As a kid, I questioned everything. If my mother told me I couldn't do something that I wanted to do, my immediate question was "WHY?" I think I fairly why'd her to distraction. After a few tries at the why thing on my part, Mom would finally respond, "Because I said so!" That still didn't satisfy my need to know why, but I did know that when Mom got to that point, the argument was over. My mother was establishing her authority without need to explain herself. She was the parent. I was the kid. Nuff sed!!
And now I think it surely must be the same with biblical authority. Whether or not you believe in a god, there is some authority in the universe that declares, "Because I said so." You can agree or disagree. You can challenge all you want. The end result, however, is that you can't pray away hurricanes or tornadoes or earthquakes or floods. You aren't in control. God/Nature is. And I think that is my new understanding of the Old Testament explanation of God. The Great Parent, I Am Who I Am, who states, "Because I said so." No other explanation needed or works.
Mom would be so proud.
I've been teaching my adult Sunday School class for a few weeks now. This time, we are studying a book by Dr./Rev. Adam Hamilton called John, the Gospel of Light and Life. In it, there was a chapter about the "I am" statements of Jesus, which the author suggests relate back to God's message to Moses when he asked by what authority he should approach the Israelites with the Ten Commandments. God told him to tell them, "I am who I am."
Yeah...okay...well, I am who I am, too....so what? If someone were to ask you for your personal credentials, you would say, "I am a mother/father; I am a teacher/whatever; I am a child of God"; you are whatever in the world you are. But what does it MEAN??
As a kid, I questioned everything. If my mother told me I couldn't do something that I wanted to do, my immediate question was "WHY?" I think I fairly why'd her to distraction. After a few tries at the why thing on my part, Mom would finally respond, "Because I said so!" That still didn't satisfy my need to know why, but I did know that when Mom got to that point, the argument was over. My mother was establishing her authority without need to explain herself. She was the parent. I was the kid. Nuff sed!!
And now I think it surely must be the same with biblical authority. Whether or not you believe in a god, there is some authority in the universe that declares, "Because I said so." You can agree or disagree. You can challenge all you want. The end result, however, is that you can't pray away hurricanes or tornadoes or earthquakes or floods. You aren't in control. God/Nature is. And I think that is my new understanding of the Old Testament explanation of God. The Great Parent, I Am Who I Am, who states, "Because I said so." No other explanation needed or works.
Mom would be so proud.
Friday, September 7, 2018
Judging Others
"We judge ourselves by our intentions and others by their behavior."
~~Stephen M. R. Covey, from his book, The Speed of Trust: The One Thing That Changes Everything.
As Thomas Paine, American patriot, once said, "These are the times that try men's souls."
There are things going on in our country right now--not all political, but mostly--that are trying my soul. Americans--Christian Americans--are judging other Americans, Christian or not, and it isn't pretty. Name-calling, violence, public shaming, boycotts. Sometimes I think we have lost our collective mind. The hypocrisy is brutal.
I hate hypocrisy. People who live in glass houses are throwing stones at others. Some of us don't tend to the "log" in our own eyes before seeing the "splinter" in others'. Every single day, I read things or hear things that remind me that we are NOT the land of the free and the home of the brave. We are NOT a Christian nation. We are a selfish lot of flawed human beings, pretending to hold up a standard for others to follow, but your standard isn't worthy if it doesn't match up with my standard. And we will stubbornly fly that flag as long as our own ox isn't gored. I could give example after example of this, but it would then become a book. Ain't nobody got time for that!
So here I am, sitting in my little house-on-a-slab, making my lesson plan for my adult Sunday School class that I will teach again this week, and reading outrageous comments made by our president on a daily basis. And the news. Oh God...the news. My blood pressure seriously goes up. I have to avoid the news. I mean, I can actually feel the anxiety rise in my being when I read the stories of the events of the day or the trends of society--especially when I understand that I am now a Senior Citizen who is a throwaway in American life. I'm old. Who cares about old people? I am always especially offended by the hypocrisy of people who pretend to care.
See if you can follow the chronology of what is to follow. (It's how my mind works. I can't help it!) A couple of weeks ago, I lost a dear friend to an unexpected death. He was the sole caretaker of his seriously demented wife of 47 years, even though they have two adult children and an adult grandchild. Only one of those children (the daughter) and her adult daughter (the grandchild) lives nearby. The daughter thought that her father should just put her mother in a nursing home and be done with it. He couldn't afford it, and probably wouldn't have done it if he could. Thus, the daughter and grandchild just never came around. He could barely get around due to knee joints that no longer existed, but he put off surgery because he would have no one to take care of his wife while he recovered. His daughter might have offered to help do housework or do grocery shopping for him in order to help lighten his load, but she wasn't about that. Eventually, he decided that he no longer had a choice but to make arrangements for his wife and to have knee replacement surgery. He did. And then he died.
I had such anger in my heart about his selfish daughter. (Still do.) The back story about her and her child, which I will spare you, is complicated. My friend did so much for them both, and when he needed them, he got no help. In my grief, I was complaining about this online to my own daughter, and she wrote me one line: "Hard to judge others." Well! That shut off the conversation, didn't it??! No sympathy in that line. Not for me...not for my friend...but it set my mind to thinking about my feelings. What possible excuse could there be for my friend's snippy daughter to ignore his needs? I don't know. What I do know is that a light bulb came on over my head--an epiphany, of sorts. A whole lifetime of judging others settled right down on my shoulders, and the weight didn't feel good.
So, who is the hypocrite now?
I have always prided myself on being able to accept others for who/what they are, but I'm thinking now that it was part of my own special internal perception of the way things should be. I have long had a problem with denying the elephant in the living room. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's a duck...right? I can forgive behavior if forgiveness is requested, but what about when it isn't? If I accept unacceptable behavior from others, does that make it okay? Will I become a doormat for people to run over and stomp on? Will others close to me? Are they seeing the forest for the trees? Or must I provide the standard on which the flag of truth flies? And just what makes me think that I must be the standard-bearer of truth and honesty?
I am humbler now. I will try harder not to be the embodiment of what I detest in others. I sure do need help!
~~Stephen M. R. Covey, from his book, The Speed of Trust: The One Thing That Changes Everything.
As Thomas Paine, American patriot, once said, "These are the times that try men's souls."
There are things going on in our country right now--not all political, but mostly--that are trying my soul. Americans--Christian Americans--are judging other Americans, Christian or not, and it isn't pretty. Name-calling, violence, public shaming, boycotts. Sometimes I think we have lost our collective mind. The hypocrisy is brutal.
I hate hypocrisy. People who live in glass houses are throwing stones at others. Some of us don't tend to the "log" in our own eyes before seeing the "splinter" in others'. Every single day, I read things or hear things that remind me that we are NOT the land of the free and the home of the brave. We are NOT a Christian nation. We are a selfish lot of flawed human beings, pretending to hold up a standard for others to follow, but your standard isn't worthy if it doesn't match up with my standard. And we will stubbornly fly that flag as long as our own ox isn't gored. I could give example after example of this, but it would then become a book. Ain't nobody got time for that!
So here I am, sitting in my little house-on-a-slab, making my lesson plan for my adult Sunday School class that I will teach again this week, and reading outrageous comments made by our president on a daily basis. And the news. Oh God...the news. My blood pressure seriously goes up. I have to avoid the news. I mean, I can actually feel the anxiety rise in my being when I read the stories of the events of the day or the trends of society--especially when I understand that I am now a Senior Citizen who is a throwaway in American life. I'm old. Who cares about old people? I am always especially offended by the hypocrisy of people who pretend to care.
See if you can follow the chronology of what is to follow. (It's how my mind works. I can't help it!) A couple of weeks ago, I lost a dear friend to an unexpected death. He was the sole caretaker of his seriously demented wife of 47 years, even though they have two adult children and an adult grandchild. Only one of those children (the daughter) and her adult daughter (the grandchild) lives nearby. The daughter thought that her father should just put her mother in a nursing home and be done with it. He couldn't afford it, and probably wouldn't have done it if he could. Thus, the daughter and grandchild just never came around. He could barely get around due to knee joints that no longer existed, but he put off surgery because he would have no one to take care of his wife while he recovered. His daughter might have offered to help do housework or do grocery shopping for him in order to help lighten his load, but she wasn't about that. Eventually, he decided that he no longer had a choice but to make arrangements for his wife and to have knee replacement surgery. He did. And then he died.
I had such anger in my heart about his selfish daughter. (Still do.) The back story about her and her child, which I will spare you, is complicated. My friend did so much for them both, and when he needed them, he got no help. In my grief, I was complaining about this online to my own daughter, and she wrote me one line: "Hard to judge others." Well! That shut off the conversation, didn't it??! No sympathy in that line. Not for me...not for my friend...but it set my mind to thinking about my feelings. What possible excuse could there be for my friend's snippy daughter to ignore his needs? I don't know. What I do know is that a light bulb came on over my head--an epiphany, of sorts. A whole lifetime of judging others settled right down on my shoulders, and the weight didn't feel good.
So, who is the hypocrite now?
I have always prided myself on being able to accept others for who/what they are, but I'm thinking now that it was part of my own special internal perception of the way things should be. I have long had a problem with denying the elephant in the living room. If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it's a duck...right? I can forgive behavior if forgiveness is requested, but what about when it isn't? If I accept unacceptable behavior from others, does that make it okay? Will I become a doormat for people to run over and stomp on? Will others close to me? Are they seeing the forest for the trees? Or must I provide the standard on which the flag of truth flies? And just what makes me think that I must be the standard-bearer of truth and honesty?
I am humbler now. I will try harder not to be the embodiment of what I detest in others. I sure do need help!
Monday, September 3, 2018
Baby Bumps
I am a Reddit.com reader. That is to say that I am what is known as a lurker. I get lost in Reddit on a daily basis, but I don't have an account on there, so I don't post or vote. I just read. It helps to keep me somewhat abreast of the rest of the world. Some of it I pay no attention to--like the gaming sub-topics. Many of the posts in other sub-topics (known as "subs") are profane, which I don't care for, but I am a dinosaur to the rest of the world because I am OLD. (That's simply another blog post!)
Yesterday, I happened onto a sub called Baby Bumps. It's frequented by pregnant women. (I am now happily out of that league!) One pregnant contributor to the sub posted about the forbidden foods that she was missing and asked other contributors if they had fantasies about what they wanted to do or ingest after they deliver. Oh my! The dozens and dozens of responses caused me to understand that things sure have changed since 40 years ago when I was a pregnant mom!
In reading that sub, I put together a list of things that are now forbidden for our human baby factories; to wit:
*No smoking.
*No alcohol.
*No really hot baths/showers.
*No hot tubs.
*No raw bean sprouts.
*No raw vegetables that are not very carefully washed.
*No unpasteurized cheeses.
*No deli meats.
*No high-mercury fish, like tuna.
*No sushi or any other uncooked meats.
*No rare or anywhere near rare steaks.
*No raw oysters.
*No eggs with runny yolks.
*No exposure to cat litter boxes or other animal feces.
*And...of course...no medicines, including those to relieve migraine headaches, nausea, or any other condition that is not being monitored by the doctor.
*And those who suffer from Gestational Diabetes are doubly screwed because they also have to limit sugars/carbohydrates.
Wow. Just wow.
Most of the contributors missed beers and wines and cheeses and sushi. They have already put in their list of desires for the day after they have delivered. Some can't wait to take scalding hot baths. Others just want a whole bottle of whatever desired wine or beer that they don't want to/won't share. And, oh my, the cheeses that they miss!
I am struck by how things have changed in a mere four decades since I was preggers. In those days, the main focus was not to drink to excess or smoke to excess...and, of course, the medicine thing. My then-husband tattled on me to the OB/GYN at one appointment because I was still smoking...but the doc told me/us that as long as I was keeping it under a pack a day, all was well. (That thinking has changed 100%.) I also drank wine a little, but it was self-limiting because my unborn child took up so much space in my belly that I could scarcely breathe, much less eat/drink, without major heartburn.
If I were to make this a political, sexist rant, I would ask how many men, were they the incubators of the human race, would survive nine months of these restrictions without caving in. As it is, I'll keep things civil and just be thankful that I'm not a breeder in these days.
It's now amazing to me that human reproduction has survived at all through the centuries before modern medicine!
Yesterday, I happened onto a sub called Baby Bumps. It's frequented by pregnant women. (I am now happily out of that league!) One pregnant contributor to the sub posted about the forbidden foods that she was missing and asked other contributors if they had fantasies about what they wanted to do or ingest after they deliver. Oh my! The dozens and dozens of responses caused me to understand that things sure have changed since 40 years ago when I was a pregnant mom!
In reading that sub, I put together a list of things that are now forbidden for our human baby factories; to wit:
*No smoking.
*No alcohol.
*No really hot baths/showers.
*No hot tubs.
*No raw bean sprouts.
*No raw vegetables that are not very carefully washed.
*No unpasteurized cheeses.
*No deli meats.
*No high-mercury fish, like tuna.
*No sushi or any other uncooked meats.
*No rare or anywhere near rare steaks.
*No raw oysters.
*No eggs with runny yolks.
*No exposure to cat litter boxes or other animal feces.
*And...of course...no medicines, including those to relieve migraine headaches, nausea, or any other condition that is not being monitored by the doctor.
*And those who suffer from Gestational Diabetes are doubly screwed because they also have to limit sugars/carbohydrates.
Wow. Just wow.
Most of the contributors missed beers and wines and cheeses and sushi. They have already put in their list of desires for the day after they have delivered. Some can't wait to take scalding hot baths. Others just want a whole bottle of whatever desired wine or beer that they don't want to/won't share. And, oh my, the cheeses that they miss!
I am struck by how things have changed in a mere four decades since I was preggers. In those days, the main focus was not to drink to excess or smoke to excess...and, of course, the medicine thing. My then-husband tattled on me to the OB/GYN at one appointment because I was still smoking...but the doc told me/us that as long as I was keeping it under a pack a day, all was well. (That thinking has changed 100%.) I also drank wine a little, but it was self-limiting because my unborn child took up so much space in my belly that I could scarcely breathe, much less eat/drink, without major heartburn.
If I were to make this a political, sexist rant, I would ask how many men, were they the incubators of the human race, would survive nine months of these restrictions without caving in. As it is, I'll keep things civil and just be thankful that I'm not a breeder in these days.
It's now amazing to me that human reproduction has survived at all through the centuries before modern medicine!