How to Support Someone in a Mental Health Crisis

The collage above is something I meticulously pieced together at a time when I was struggling with conflicts at work.  It is a composite of many family members and friends; a visual reminder that I was part of a larger community that could offer me support through dark and difficult times.  I kept it in a folder at work and took it out often when I was feeling particularly stressed, to remind myself that I was not completely alone.  The collage was one of many coping mechanisms I used during that time, to keep myself going when the way ahead sometimes seemed hopeless.  The conflicts I was experiencing at work exacerbated my chronic depression and anxiety,  resulting in a spiral of darkness that was sometimes difficult to explain to the people around me.  Not everyone is well versed in what it means to have a mental health condition, and something so personal isn't a topic that can or should be shared with everyone.  I found that it was most helpful to speak with a few close friends and explain not only my external situation at work, but my internal experience of what was happening, and the behaviors they might see from me while I was struggling.  With a few people I went into more detail about what depression and anxiety are, and how chronic depression and anxiety are different from brief situationally based experiences of sadness or fear.   Sometimes it was like trying to explain how to hear the color blue;  some people had a hard time understanding something that was so different from their own experiences.  Others understood immediately, and shared their own stories about struggles with mental health issues.

If you have a friend or loved one who you think might be experiencing mental health concerns, ask them how they're doing.  Then really listen to what they have to say.  They may initially minimize their situation so that they don't appear needy or "weak".  They may worry that acknowledging there is even an issue at all makes them appear incompetent or incapable, particularly if they are people you know at work.  Find a place where you can talk to them privately, or take them out to lunch, away from prying eyes in the workplace.  Reassure them that you don't think any less of them because they are struggling, and offer your support.  I find it's best to be specific when offering support, and to ask what would be the most helpful for that person.  Some people may find it comforting to have periodic lunch dates set up, so that they know they have times set aside when they can speak openly  to someone about how they feel.  Ask if they have anyone they are seeing professionally to assist them with maintaining good mental health, like a therapist or psychiatrist.  You might be surprised to know how many people around you are quietly making use of those services without anyone knowing about it.  In my own situation, I found it helpful to meet with friends regularly outside of work to vent.  I also asked some friends to make a small gesture of acknowledgement when they walked by my cube- a friendly word, a smile, a touch; so that I knew they "saw me" and that my pain was not completely invisible to everyone.  Some people may appreciate small gestures like the handful of Dove chocolates I found on my desk one day with a thoughtful card;  others may prefer verbal acknowledgements or praise about something they are doing well, or something you appreciate about them. Everyone is an individual; ask what works best for them.

Relationships are living things.  They grow and change; they need to be fed.  I found it both very humbling and very freeing to share my experiences with a few close friends;  it changed the relationship I had with the majority of them for the better.  They knew more of who I was, and I felt more free to be myself, and not just pretend that everything in my life was fine.  They also felt more free to share similar experiences with me; leaving both of us feeling more understood and more whole.  There may be some people in your loved one's life who don't fully understand what your loved one is trying to share with them, or who may be uncomfortable with the idea of mental health concerns.  I generally start with a small amount of information and see what kind of reaction I get.  If the person knows nothing about mental health concerns, I may offer them some resources to read that explains the specific mental health concern I am speaking to them about. If they are not receptive to learning more for whatever reason, I simply seek out someone else.  Not everyone is able or willing to be supportive, and it helps to find that out at the beginning instead of "looking for water in the desert" and continuously being disappointed.   Reassure your friend or loved one when this happens; a lack of support is seldom about the person asking for support, and more likely to be about the issues of the person being asked.  Remind them that you support and care for them; perhaps problem solve other alternative sources of support or stress relief that they could make use of.  Our workplace has a massage therapist who comes once a week,  for example. Wellness resources such as this can be helpful, along with other personal services like pedicures, or manicures.  Find out what activities your friend or loved one finds interesting or relaxing, whether it be a hobby or a visit to the spa, and encourage them to engage in some of these activities regularly.  Offer to go with them and share the experience with them.

My biggest concern when sharing my mental health concerns was that I would be seen as fundamentally different from my friends and loved ones; somehow broken and imperfect.  That my mental health status would separate me from their affection and respect.  One of the most important things you can do for any friend or loved with a mental health concern is to let them know that you love them the way they are, and don't consider them damaged goods.  Let them know the qualities you appreciate about them and the gifts they bring to your life. No one wants to think that they are a burden in their relationships, or that they have nothing to offer in their interactions with friends and loved ones.   It is sometimes hard for people in the midst of emotional turmoil to see and acknowledge the strengths they bring to the table in their interpersonal relationships.  Tell them.  Give them specific examples of times when they have been helpful, supportive, or kind.  Remind them of their many talents, and how they have shared them with you and other people.

There may be times when someone you love needs more than you can give them, particularly if they are in a severe crisis.  If your friend or loved one indicates that they are thinking of hurting themselves or anyone else, seek help for them.  Help them call Employee Assistance, a crisis line, or their therapist.  Bring them to a crisis counseling appointment or their local emergency room to be assessed if necessary. You may have to involve other support people in their lives, such as their employer, their spouse, or other relatives and friends who are aware of their mental health status. Always take your friend seriously if they tell you they are considering self harm, and seek assistance.

Look again at the collage at the top of this page.  There are many people pictured there; some relatives, some friends, some coworkers.  There were so many pictures to choose from initially that I ran out of room. It was a good visual reminder to me that I did have people in my life who loved me, even when I felt isolated and alone.  It is easy to get fixated on how dark the world seems and how difficult the experience of mental illness is; it is easy to forget the many people who impact our lives. We may not see them every day, and we may share different pieces of our lives with them. But seen as a whole, the image is powerful.  It is the combined strength of an entire community of people.  Ask your friend or loved one about the people in their community of strength.  Have them list these people on a piece of paper, or make a collage.  Perhaps carry a picture or two with them at difficult times.  Remind them that you are one of the people in their community, and that you love them.  Because that's really what it comes down to.  Being a part of a community, being accepted, being loved.  Knowing that with all of your challenges there are people who still see you as YOURSELF and not just a label saying " a little bit nuts" or "kind of scary due to mental health issues".   Knowing you have a place in the world, and in their hearts. Speak the words out loud and tell them.

Thanksgiving

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and I spent the holiday with extended family.  I love my family, but we don't always share the same values and beliefs, which makes for interesting holiday conversations.  I thought a great deal today about what I have been truly thankful for this year, and what people and events have deeply touched my life.  My list may be a little different than most. But then again, so am I.

I am thankful for the handful of relatives who love me the way I am, instead of asking me to change to fit their expectations.  I am thankful for my children, who keep me honest and stretch my mind and heart in ways I never imagined before I became a parent.

I am thankful for my "harem" of men who have lunch with me regularly, stimulate my mind and graciously tolerate my questions and tangents.  I'm grateful for their humor, insight, and loving support.  The activities and conversations I have shared with them help keep me whole.

I am thankful for the handful of people at my workplace that I can truly talk to about meaningful things, and not just jewelry parties or clothing sales.  They keep me sane in an atmosphere that is largely based on appearance and presentation, and give me hope in an environment that often feels suffocating and shaming.

I am thankful for the one division manager in my workplace who has made a point to be pleasant and kind to me, even during very challenging times between myself and other senior staff.  Her attitude is an unexpected light in the midst of their darkness.

I am thankful for my intimate friends,  many of which I have known for twenty years or more.  The ability to speak freely, to seek out support, to be accepted as I am is infinitely precious to me.  Only in your circles am I truly at peace.

I am thankful for my dog, who is always happy to see me, always listens, and adores me.  I am also thankful for my cats, who always know when I am sick or sad, and who offer their silent support by draping themselves over me for hours at a time.

I am thankful for my ability to express myself in writing, giving me an outlet for thoughts and feelings that might never make coherent sense if I had to speak them rather than put them into written words.

I am thankful for my chiropractor,  who puts me back together when I am broken; and the lunch ladies at work, who always take a moment to chat.  I am thankful for the custodians who know my name and hold the elevator for me when everyone else seems to walk past me and not see me. I am thankful for my car salesman, who shares many of my posts on Facebook and who sold me an awesome car that will easily go through all the snow this winter; and for his girlfriend, who has amazing tattoos and an enormous heart.


I am thankful for my plaid down comforter, my space heater,  and the curling iron my daughter has taught me how to use after I cut my long hair.   I am thankful for budget theaters and large size boxes of NERDS candy; for gel pens and legal pads to write poetry with.  I am thankful for comfortable slip on shoes, and the people I know who wear them.

I am thankful that I've made it through a sometimes very challenging year to write this list.

Happy Thanksgiving

Finding Water

Last night I attended the opening of the exhibit "I Am Water",  at the Form and Content Gallery in Minneapolis.  There was amazing water based art to view on the walls and a number of readings, accompanied by some very talented musical folks on the drums and flute.  My friend David Grant was one of the readers, and he sang a song he had written about the water goddesses in Africa,  stunning us with his beautiful singing voice.  It was an entertaining and enlightening evening.

Strangely enough, I had been thinking about the theme of water that week. In a conversation with a friend she had said "you don't go to the desert to find water"; and I thought at the time how true that was about life in general.   When we seek connection and affirmation, it makes sense to look for that where we will be welcomed and supported, not where we will be judged or minimized.   So in essence, our whole lives are a process of "finding water".  Finding where we fit in life, finding ourselves and the people and activities we can truly resonate with.  I decided at the time that that phrase would be the title for my newest book of poetry.   It is partially finished and speaks to the experience of being part of groups and organizations that are not healthy, not welcoming, not whole, while also describing the people and moments that I find meaning and connection in.   It was with irony and some awe that I realized the title of the exhibit last night as "I Am Water"- I had thought of it as "my friend David's reading" and had  never looked closely at the title.   The Universe has an interesting sense of humor.

I found myself connecting to the poetry and music, lulled by the rhythmic beat of the drums and the haunting sound of the flute. I was able to meet some of the poets who had read their work, and reconnect with my long time friend David.  I realized that in all the years I have known him, this is the first time I had heard him read, and the first time I realized what an incredible singing voice he had.  The words and the rhythms were deep, and heartfelt.  This was not an event for shallow sentiments. This was people sharing a little bit of their souls, and finding some nourishment for themselves in the process.  A good first step for someone whose goal for the new year is to find water- to find meaning and connection in a world that is not always kind to those who are a little different.  

Flowers and Small Town Homophobia

There is a wonderful flower artist in town, who decorates the landscapes of the Cities with his  handmade flowers.  He takes pictures in familiar places- the Sculpture Garden, Fort Snelling, Lake Calhoun; and turns these familiar places into magical bursts of color and life.  His name is David Cook, and I love his work.  The fact that he is a man in recovery  and someone who has struggled with depression makes these gorgeous works of art even more meaningful to me.

Friday David was in Hastings putting out his flowers, when two middle aged men in a large truck screamed a gay slur at him, and displayed their middle fingers before speeding off like the cowards they were.  I found this very upsetting, and put the following post on my facebook page: David- you are a very talented artist, and every time I see your work it makes me happy. As for the two middle aged men yelling slurs at David in Hastings-your behavior really shows who you are. My mother once said that only people who really don't like themselves very much harass others, and I think that's probably the truth. Your behavior tells me that you are insecure, immature, and have no solid sense of who you are as men. If you think you are somehow making yourself more attractive to women with that kind of behavior, think again. No emotionally healthy woman would want to be around someone who is behaving like that. Ignorance and abusiveness are not attractive qualities. Your small-minds... and empty hearts will come back to bite you.

It's hard for me to comprehend why two grown men would want to harass someone they don't know.  It makes me wonder what their relationships are with the women in their lives, their coworkers, their friends. I wonder what their children would think if they saw their fathers behaving like this towards a man who was doing nothing more than making their town a little more beautiful.  I wonder why they feel so threatened and so insecure as men that they felt the need to attack someone they felt wasn't "manly" enough.  Truth be told, I think David is the real man here, and that those two middle aged men don't have a clue about what "being a man" really means.  I wonder where they learned their hatred, and if they are passing it on to their children.  I wonder if they go to church on sunday and talk about God; then behave like this in the community, like there is no discrepancy or hypocrisy about that. 

I think those two men have a lot to learn about what it means to be a human being, as well as what it means to be a man.  The men I spend time with in my life are intelligent and compassionate people.  They spend time and energy trying to make the world a better place; they treat others with respect and kindness. They stand up for those who are tormented by men like the two men in Hastings who heckled David.  The men I spend time with don't make judgements on people based on their sexual orientation, their race, their gender, their income status.  They are centered in who they are, and don't feel threatened by people who are not exactly the same as they are.  These are the qualities I associate with "real" men; not the insecurity and hatred that David was shown.   If those two men in Hastings only knew that what they showed to the world was not strength, but weakness.  The weakness of their narrow minds and their stunted hearts- their dysfunctional ideas about what makes a person a man or a woman.  The weakness of their insecurity and fear when confronted with a gentle man putting out flowers.  If they only knew how ugly their actions appear against the backdrop of those vivid blooms, and how ironic that seems to me.  But that would require insight, and I think those two are in short supply of that.  Meanwhile David continues on, lighting up the landscape with his beautiful creations, and leaving the world a more fabulous place than he found it. 

Marriage Equality!

May 14, 2013- the day marriage equality for same sex couples was signed into law. I was  there, in a crowd of thousands.  Watching Mark Dayton formally sign the bill on the capitol lawn, surrounded by men, women, and children whose families would finally be formally recognized by the law.  I never thought I would see this in my lifetime.  For me it was like being present when women were given the vote, or when all slaves were freed- a moment where everything changed.  A moment where humanity was recognized and old biases and fears were set aside.  Historic, moving, and about damn time. 

It's interesting what equality brings out in individual people.  Many in the crowd were in tears, or openly jubilant. I felt surrounded by the energy, hope, and love of literally thousands of people.  For me it was incredible, a leap into a better future- a future where my GLBT friends, relatives, and coworkers could live their lives more openly and with more legal protections for their families.  

The next day I followed stories about the bill signing on Facebook.  I saw many positive postings, but was very disappointed to see postings that were quite negative. Ironically, some of those postings came from people that I knew personally, and who I knew had gay friends.  Some referenced the Bible, or "traditional" marriage; and I was reminded of the civil rights era,  when some people would talk about their wonderful black friends, but wouldn't want their sons or daughters to date those same friends.  To some people, equal is only partially equal, and everyone was still supposed to "know their place".   The hypocrisy was glaring to me, but I'm sure most of those people thought they were being sincere, which made it even more sad to me. 

I know what my place is.  It's here, in support of my family, friends, and coworkers.  I want them to have all of the rights that I have in society, and to be free from discrimination and harassment.  For me it's very simple. These are people I care about, and I want them to have good lives.  I want them to be able to care for and protect their families, I want them to be able to openly celebrate their relationships.  "Their place" should be the same as mine- a respectful, loving place in the larger society.  An equal place, not a partial token equality that is doled out by the self righteous when it's convenient and then withdrawn when those same folks become uncomfortable. 

I am still in awe that I was there on the Capitol lawn when the world shifted; becoming larger and more inclusive.  I was there to see the joy and tears of people who were finally seeing their relationships- their lives- recognized, after years of living on the sidelines and in the shadows.  What a victory for love, and for us all.  May it move us further into the light, and away from the darkness of separation and bigotry.  May it move us all towards freedom; the freedom to be who we were born to be, and to be loved and accepted in all our uniqueness. 

The Circle of Life

Last weekend I got to meet Tia, the beautiful baby in my arms in the pictures above.  Her mom Katie is my honorary niece, and I have known her for over twenty years.  I remember her being a feisty, articulate little girl, and now she is a grown woman with a child of her own.  Funny how the wheel keeps turning, the children keep growing, and suddenly there is a new generation of babies to hold.  Amazing.

It has been a long time since I last held a tiny baby.  My  youngest child is thirteen and came home to me at the age of eleven months, as a solid twenty pound baby.  My oldest is twenty now, and weighed in at five pounds, three ounces.  I remember being afraid to hold her and bathe her; afraid that she would break somehow while I learned how to be a mother.  I learned, and she didn't break.  She has gone on to attend college and learn all kinds of new things.   Holding Tia reminded me of when my kids were young, and frankly, when I was young. It took me a few minutes to remember how to hold her, but Tia is a good teacher, and I caught on quickly.  I spent much of the visit holding and feeding her, enthralled by the "tiny baby aura" that she gave off.  When she was sleeping, she looked just like one of the porcelain dolls on tv that sell for a mere four payments of 19.99.  So perfect, so innocent.

It never occurred to me when I was younger that I would one day be an "older relative", watching the children I had known transform into adults with babies of their own.  I never pictured myself past twenty five, yet here I am, forty seven years old and watching the new generation be born.  I"m grateful to have made it this far, thanks in large part to the amazing supports I had in my life as a young woman. Katie's mother was one of those supports.  She helped me find safe passage through many difficult times in my life, and taught me more than all my therapists combined.  I hope that I will be able to pass on a fraction of what she taught me to the younger women who surround me now, and I look forward to more years of holding beautiful newborns like Tia.  Tia is a vivid reminder that life continues to spring forward, forever new and precious as the wheel continues to turn.

Mason the Puppy

This is Mason, our newly adopted german shepherd mix puppy.  He is ten weeks old and has a sweet, mellow disposition.  So far the kids are loving the novel experience of helping to take him out for potty training and amusing him with toys and attention.  Getting ready for him was last having another baby, but this time the older kids were all able to play a part too- helping to "declutter"  the living room and set up his wire kennel, scouring the floor to make sure nothing was there that could be dangerous to a growing puppy that likes to chew.  Our spring cleaning this year was all courtesy of Mason.

Our former german shepherd Zena was very different than Mason.  She was a drill instructor keeping order in her troops, and a taskmaster.  She was also female, with very light coloring.  Mellow was not in her vocabulary. She was always on alert for any sign of danger, always keeping a safe perimeter.  She slept in front of the doorway, blocking all of us from any potential threat.  Mason goes with the flow. He plays, he goes outside, he sleeps.  He slept through the night his first night home without a whimper. He is ready and willing to play, but just as ready to sit quietly in your lap and rest.  He is adaptable to what is going on around him, and doesn't fuss.  A polar opposite of Zena, which is partially what we intended when we chose him.  We all loved Zena and miss her terribly. A similar looking dog might remind us of her, but it would never be her; while a dog that was a little different might be easier to love and accept for itself, and on its own terms.

I had forgotten how fun it is to have a new baby, and how exhausting.  I haven't had much sleep, but I am enjoying myself.  To Mason everything in the world is new- the snow in April, the large fenced yard, his new buddy Bear, our eight year old shitzu-yorkie mix.  He likes to play hard with our kids and collapse for a nap; then do it all over again.  Mason is a sweet and affectionate boy with irresistible eyes that say "pet me, pet me".   So of course we do, and we drink in all that pure puppy love.  It will take time to train Mason, and a fair amount of work.  But it will be worth it.  After all, it took time and work to teach my children what they know about life so far, and they have all turned out pretty well. I'm sure Mason will too. 

Live your Life NOW

The vibrant woman in the middle of this picture was a work friend of mine named Jackie. She was 63 and had recently retired after a lifetime of human services work.  She loved to camp and hike, and had two grown children that she doted on, as well as a husband she had adored for decades.  I never heard her say a cross word to anyone. She was always helpful and kind, and even when she was diagnosed with cancer, she kept smiling and walking forward into the unknown with her head held high.

I went to her wake this week.  The flowers and the the slideshow of her life were beautiful, and the room was packed. Jackie had an impact on many lives, and she lived her own life joyfully.  Jackie didn't have much time to enjoy her retirement.  She will never meet her future grandchildren, or travel to some of the exotic places she had planned to see.  But she lived the life she had.  She loved her family and her friends, and she relished all the small ordinary moments of her life until the very end.

It makes you think when you start burying your friends.  I am at that age now, where I attend far more funerals than weddings.  There are no guarantees in life.  You may work for thirty years and die shortly after your retirement.  You may never live to retire in the first place. I think what's important is to live the life you have RIGHT NOW, and do the things that call to your heart.  Don't wait to take a trip or start a hobby. Do it now.  You may not be able to afford something extravagant, and that's ok. Start small.  Buy yourself flowers when you want them.  Go out to lunch with your friends.  Take a class or take a risk- learn something you always wanted to learn.  I made a bucket list when I was close to forty, and some of the things I did were very simple. I learned to play cribbage. I went to Duluth and took pictures in the rose garden. I traveled outside of the country (to Canada) for the first time.  I self published my poetry and started writing essays, as well as taking up photography.  There are so many little things that can be such joyful experiences.

This year, after having heart symptoms and questioning my own mortality, I bought the new car I had wanted for years.  Last week I filled out an adoption application for a local humane society, and plan to look at a litter of puppies from that organization this weekend. I may not live to be 90, but in the meantime, I want to enjoy the companionship of another dog.  My previous dog Zena was a loyal and loving friend, and I want to enjoy a relationship like that with another dog that needs a home.  Planning for the future is fine, but living in the present is what can give us joy right now, and make our lives meaningful.

I plan to keep learning, and taking small risks. I push myself to talk to some of the people I meet at conferences or out in public, although I am a very shy person in many ways. I've made a point to tell my friends how much they mean to me, to remember their birthdays and ask about their lives, listen to their stories.  Sometimes we do things like riding through the countryside on motorcycles or sitting for hours in coffee shops talking.                     We steal away for a few minutes or a few hours at a time to be playful, to explore, sometimes to just sit quietly with each other and watch the sun set while we sit in an armchair. These are the moments that make life worth living.  I want to treasure every second I have with my friends and my family, store up all the memories for the inevitable days when some of them will be gone.  Life is like ice cream sitting in the sun. Scoop that bowl up and eat every drop before it melts away. Live your life now.

Connections

I haven't written much the last few weeks, and that has been partially due to some medical issues I've had. Specifically, I had some symptoms I thought might have been a heart attack.  It happened, of all places, in a car dealership while I was talking to a salesperson.  Ironic. I never imagined that my final moments might be looking at a room full of strangers and shiny new cars.  Everything was fine until suddenly both of my arms felt heavy and "tingly", and I felt vaguely sick;  like I was going to pass out.  My chest felt like someone had suddenly tightened up an already tight corset, but one that was on the inside of my skin, not the outside. I remember feeling mortified and confused. I had just taken a CPR class recently, and went through all the symptoms in my head of both heart attack and stroke, ticking off which ones I had and which ones didn't fit.  Usually it's only one arm, I thought, and the chest is supposed to feel like someone is sitting on it... or if it's a stroke, I should be confused and unable to talk...I debated in my head about whether or not the salesperson would be freaked out if I asked if they had a defibrillator on site.  I decided that he probably would be, and navigated myself to the nearest chair to sit down.  I don't know if he noticed that I was struggling. I spent about ten minutes toughing it out until I felt I could walk to my car, and then made an excuse and left.  Later I thought, what in the world was I thinking?  Why didn't I just say something?  I was just too embarrassed, too unsure of what was actually happening. I didn't want to make them feel uncomfortable and I certainly didn't want to be carted away in an ambulance when I had three children waiting at home.  I remember bargaining with God, saying it's not that I don't want to eventually join my family and friends in the afterlife, some of whom I miss terribly; but my kids still need me. I need to stay here.  On a more shallow note, I remember being angry that I would never get to buy my new car or get another dog, now that my elderly german shepherd was gone.  Funny what goes through your mind when you think your time is up.

Several days later I went to see my family doctor, after a call to the nurse line.  I went through an EKG, a chest X-ray, and two weeks later, a cardiac stress test. I am still waiting for the results of the stress test, but suspect that if there had been something terribly wrong I would have been notified already.   During all of this activity, I had to explain to my boss, a few select coworkers, friends and family, what had happened.  You learn a lot about connections when you tell people you think you had a heart attack.  My coworkers gave me a stern talking to about the fact that I hadn't sought medical attention immediately.  My husband was frightened.  Friends of mine who had had  heart issues in the past talked with me about their experiences.  My sister, an RN, called me regularly for the next several days to get updates on my condition.

The whole experience had an effect on me as well.  I felt that my body had betrayed me, that I couldn't trust it to do it's job.  I found myself wondering when I went into public places if anyone there knew CPR, and avoiding being alone in case the symptoms reoccurred.  I made a list of things I wanted to get done quickly, in case I didn't have much time left.  Again, funny what goes through your head when you think your time might be up.  I had a baby afghan for a friend that wasn't finished, a house to clean, some friends to tell again how much they meant to me.  I remember thinking the night it happened, after I got home, that if I was going to die I may as well have the dishes done first.  Priorities!

Three weeks later,  I've done a few of the things on my list. The baby afghan is almost done, the house is clean, I bought my shiny new red car.  I filled out an adoption application to get a german shepherd puppy in a couple of weeks, and I've had that conversation with some of my closest friends- the one about how much they mean, how much I've learned from them, how much I love them. I still have a few of those conversations to go, and I've started making a new list.  This list is a little different- it's a list of what I want to do if I continue to live, not a list of what to do before I die.  It's my way to stake my claim on this unpredictable, sometimes painful, but generally entertaining existence for a little while longer.  It's my flag, staked in the middle of my imperfect but still functioning heart.  I don't have any guarantees about how long my life will be, or what events will happen that are outside of my control.  What is within my control is whether or not I live the life I have, regardless of how long it is; and whether or not I share that life in a meaningful way with the people that matter to me. Life is a choice, connecting with others is a choice.  I would rather choose life, love, and connection than live in fear each day of what might happen around the next corner.

MSSA and Louie Anderson

I attended the 2013 MSSA (Minnesota Social Service Association) Conference this week, and had the good fortune to meet Louie Anderson, the keynote speaker (and one of my favorite comedians!)  Louie was an incredibly funny speaker, and also quite knowledgable about the field of human services.  He spoke about his experiences being the tenth child of eleven- wow! as well as his experiences being a counselor at St. Joe's Shelter.  He also spoke about being the sibling of someone with severe mental illness, which was very moving.  I was able to meet Louie in person briefly to get a book signed after the presentation, and he was incredibly gracious and kind.  Even after a long flight and almost no sleep, Louie took the time to sign books and take pictures with many of us.  He has a very genuine warmth and humanity.  He's someone I could sit and talk with for hours. Thanks Louie, for taking the time to inspire a few thousand social workers. You're our rock star.

Meeting Michael Bodine

I had the opportunity to meet a local author and psychic recently at the Psychic Symposium in Minneapolis.  Michael Bodine is refreshingly honest and genuine, and spoke about his journey through addiction, as well as discussing his current profession.  Like me, he came from a family that struggled with addiction issues through the generations.  He spoke about relatives using chemicals to block their psychic gifts and the deep empathy they felt for other people, because those feelings were simply too painful. I can certainly understand that. I have relatives who have confided to me that they use chemicals for the same reason.  Although I have not abused alcohol and drugs, I have also at times tried to push away some of the feelings that come from being deeply intuitive and empathic with other people. Feeling the feelings of other people can be very overwhelming at times.  Looking back I can see many times that I have isolated myself to a certain degree to recover from the unrestrained rush of other people's feelings and issues around me. It took time to able to set some internal and external boundaries, so that I could be supportive and caring while not becoming completely overtaken by other people's "stuff".  I really related to much of what Michael had to say, and I admire his talent. I also admire his tenacity of spirit.  Being a "sensitive" is what my grandmother Florine used to call a "hard gift"- having extra information and "feeling" what is going on with someone can be very helpful, but can also be very exhausting.  Learning balance and self care skills is vital to being able to stay healthy in the midst of all the extra stimulation that this gift entails.  Thank you Michael, for sharing your story; and thank you for your irrepressible, irreverent spirit.  You are a delight to experience.

Zena the Warrior Princess

This week my eleven year old German Shepherd Zena died.  She was a beautiful dog, strong and graceful- running across the yard she was poetry in motion.  She was an Alpha female, and took her job of protecting the family very seriously.  Every day she patrolled the boundaries of our fence, and every evening she lay in front of the door, blocking the entrance to anyone who was not invited.

She was at times an imperious girl, barking sharply at our smaller dog Bear or one of the cats when she felt they needed correction, and we were not moving fast enough to suit her. She liked an orderly household, and wasn't shy about making her opinion known if she felt someone was not towing the line.

Zena loved our kids, and I think she considered them her puppies. She was gentle and affectionate with them, and watched them like a hawk.  If someone tried to snatch their food off their plate, she was immediately there, barking orders.  Every night she lay in front of my daughter's bedroom, guarding the door against intruders.  She was alert to any sound, any motion that occurred, and was always watching where the kids were, what they were doing, looking for any possible threats or misbehavior.  She gave our household a sense of safety and security, a deep love that surrounded all of us.

Recently she hadn't seemed herself, so we took her in to our family vet. Sadly, he found a large tumor on her spleen, and we were told her time was short.  We arranged for comfort care for her and took her home, thinking we had a few days to be with her, maybe even a few weeks.  We wanted our older daughter to be able to visit her from college and say goodbye, for our kids to have a few last moments with her.  But in the small hours of that night, Zena died.  We did our best to make her comfortable after our younger daughter alerted us to the change in her condition, to tell her  how much we loved her.  The last thing she had done before she died was to drag herself to my daughter's door, to guard her.  Even when she was feeling so sick, that was her priority. Protect the puppies at all costs.   While she was in her last moments, she kept looking in front of her, and would suddenly break into happy panting.  She looked as though she was interacting with someone we couldn't see, someone she recognized and was very happy to see.   Shortly after that, she died.  I choose to think that she had an escort who came to get her,  to bring her to the next world without fear or pain. She certainly deserved that.  She was one of the most pure spirits I have ever known.

Rest in peace, Zena.  You did your job well, and you were much loved. I hope you are surrounded by family in the afterlife, by tennis balls and chew toys, and rabbits that you can chase without harming.  I hope you come to visit us, perhaps sleeping on our beds or guarding the doors you slept in front of for so many years.  You will always be welcome to surround us with your love and presence.

I Want to Fly

Toni Morrison said that "If you wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down."  One of my New Year's resolutions was to let go of the things in my life that were negative, no longer served a purpose, or kept me from freely being myself.  Sometimes it's hard to see those things when they have been in your life for so long. Even though they may cause pain or discomfort, they are familiar. And most people want to keep what is familiar around them, even if it hurts.

One of the things I am working on letting go of is weight. I've struggled over the last few years to try and lose weight, without much success.  I would lose five or ten pounds, find myself trying to cope with multiple stresses and disappointments, and promptly put that weight right back on.  I found that with the extra weight, I was more "invisible"; and faded into the background.  Sometimes the background was a much more comfortable place to be than being front and center.  A few years back I had lost forty pounds, and was surprised to find that many women, instead of being supportive or happy for me, were actually very unkind.  One suggested I had lost the weight to entice a man, rather than because I wanted to live a healthier lifestyle. Others appeared jealous that I had accomplished what they had not, and made catty comments.  Eventually the weight slowly came back on, and I almost gratefully sank back into oblivion.  Now it's time to let go of it.  I've gotten back on my treadmill and have worked out 5-6 days a week since mid January.  It's very freeing to feel my endurance build, and to see those pounds start to ever so slowly slip away.

Another thing I've had to let go of has been relationships with people who can't accept me for who I am.  This has been a harder challenge, and often quite painful.  One person stopped talking to me because they disagreed with my politics.  The loss was very unexpected, and the relationship was an important one. I tried initially to mend fences, but the end result was that the person in question simply couldn't accept me as a person who had different opinions than he did, and I had to let go of trying to rekindle that relationship.  There are other relationships in my life in which I have tried unsuccessfully to have a more meaningful and deeper relationship with people, only to find that they could only accept small pieces of me, and wanted nothing to do with the rest of me.  People who expected me to be enthused about their beliefs and hobbies, but had no interest in mine.  I see most of those people less often now, and have let go of the expectation that they are going to be more intimately involved in my life.  I no longer waste my time sending them notices about the books I've published or the other accomplishments I find meaningful in my life, because their consistent silence and passive rejection is simply too painful.   There are also those folks who were happy to have me caretake them or assist them in crisis, but who were unable to offer anything in return.  The ones who ask for a ride, ten bucks, or an hour of "free therapy", and then disappear until the next time they need something.  I came to see that they really had no real appreciation for me as a person; only what I could provide for them.  That is not to say that I don't want to support my friends and family in times of  need; because it is very important to me to do that. But when the effort is all one sided, it simply takes too much from me and gives nothing back.

Maybe the most important thing I am trying to let go of are some unrealistic expectations and judgements that I have about myself. It is so easy to become discouraged when the people I reach out to don't reciprocate or even acknowledge my existence; or when I have extended myself to someone and they disappoint or reject me.  It is easy to think that I am somehow unworthy, have not tried hard enough, am simply "not enough" myself as a person to warrant their attention.  It is easy to make the assumption that success is not possible, and that most of my life will in some deeper sense be spent alone.  I have to try and be more objective, taking responsibility for any actions of mine that may have led to a lack of intimacy, but also realizing that people have "their own shit", and some of it has nothing to do with me.  I have to make an effort to seek out people who like me as I am, instead of people who want me to be more like them.

It's a difficult thing, this letting go. But it's also a relief.  If I'm not carrying around all the  baggage from damaged relationships, all my own unrealistic expectations, and the shame of not achieving them, it leaves me with a lot more energy and space to fly.

Meeting Alan Page

I met Alan Page this week at a Black History Month event.  He was an impressive speaker, and an even more impressive human being. He talked about his life and career, his belief that all people deserve to have equal rights irrespective of their race, gender, sexual orientation, ability or disability.  He spoke thoughtfully and with quiet passion. I was moved by his authenticity, and his kindness. He spoke about the educational foundation he and his wife created twenty five years ago, that has benefited many students and opened doors to children and young adults who might otherwise have been overlooked, or underserved.

My first memories of Alan Page include watching the Minnesota Vikings games with my parents.  He was an incredible athlete.  These days he is (as of 1993) a Minnesota Supreme Court Justice, utilizing his considerable intellect to serve the state in yet another way.  He is the first African American to be elected to the Minnesota Supreme Court; a trailblazer and a role model for Minnesota's young people.  He has used his many talents to enrich all of us through entertainment, service, and philanthropy.  I was truly honored to see him speak, and to hear some of the personal details of his life.  He is an inspiration to me not only because of his many accomplishments, but because of his genuine compassion for other human beings.  The depth of his athletic ability and intellectual capacity are clearly matched by the profound depth of his heart for humanity.

After his presentation he was gracious enough to sign autographs and pose for pictures with people from the audience, and I was thrilled to be able to be part of that.   Thank you, Your Honor, for sharing your time and experiences with the rest of us. It was truly appreciated.

Valentine's Day Marriage Equality Rally

I spent Valentine's Day at the Marriage Equality Rally at the Capitol. It seemed fitting to spend a day dedicated to couples rallying for the rights of ALL couples, including those of the same sex.  I was encouraged to see the large contingent of religious leaders supporting marriage equality, (pictured above) and the many members of faith communities with their respective banners.

It was really empowering to be with what was estimated to be two thousand other people, all standing up and making their voices heard about this issue.  It's a very personal issue to me, because I have many GLBT family members, coworkers, friends, and relatives.  I don't consider their need to be loved, to be part of family, any different than mine. The stigma that has long been attached to being gay, and the discrimination I have seen them face over the years saddens me.  These are people I love, very creative, dynamic, unique individuals who just happened to be born with a sexual preference that was a little different from mine.  The people I have known over the years who happened to be GLBT have enriched my life with their friendship, their guidance, their creativity, and their love.  The fact that they can't legally marry their long term partners has always seemed completely wrong to me.  Society has often labeled them- people I love dearly -as somehow wrong, defective, abnormal.  Nothing could be further from the truth in my world.  My GLBT friends have the same needs, hopes, and dreams that I do. They want to be acknowledged as people and as couples; to love and be loved, to contribute to society.  They want to have families, and be an accepted part of a larger society.  They want to develop their talents, and live their lives in freedom and safety. I hope that this legislative session brings my dear friends one step closer to living that reality, and I want to be a part of fighting for it every step of the way.

Happy Birthday Grandma Florine

Tomorrow, February 18th,  would have been my Grandmother Florine's 94th birthday.  She was an amazing woman who had a kind word for everyone she met.  Pictured above are four of her paintings. She was a talented artist, and created beautiful paintings for family members and friends throughout the years.  She took personal requests, and made each painting as individual as the person who requested it.

My grandmother was the kind of person who could talk to anyone.  She had an insight and empathy that saw right through to a person's soul.  She gave people the gift of her completely focused attention, her warmth, and her considerable intellect.  Although her formal education didn't go past eighth grade,  she was probably the most intelligent person I have ever known.  A voracious reader, she could converse on almost any topic, and was interested in everything.

Grandma was the person who everyone in the family went to with their problems and questions.  She loved each of us absolutely unconditionally, and knew us better than we sometimes knew ourselves.  If you asked Grandma for feedback, you always got it. Honest, direct, and loving.  She knew all of our preferences down to the tiniest detail, and when we came to visit, she would buy all our favorite foods. We used to joke that if any of us looked at an item too long in the grocery store, she would insist on buying it for us.

Grandma taught all of her grandchildren to be creative.  She was a talented writer, writing poetry and later her own autobiography for her family.  She loved flowers, and made floral centerpieces for her church, graduations, or other family events. I remember making a treasure chest with her out of styrofoam and beads one year.  Almost anything could be transformed into something magical under her guidance.  As I mentioned earlier, she painted, and many of us have her paintings proudly hanging on our walls.

My grandmother was probably the single most important influence in my life.  She taught me how to listen deeply to people, which I carry with me every day in my personal and professional life.  She taught me to be creative; I write poetry, essays, letters to the editor. Maybe one day I will write my own autobiography, as she did.  She taught me to be direct and honest, but to always try and frame my honesty in kindness.  She taught me to never stop learning.  Like her, I read voraciously. I have multiple hobbies, and am always interested in learning something new.  Probably the most important thing she taught me was how to love- whole heartedly and unconditionally. She accepted each person where they were at in their lives, and never judged them.  She was always encouraging, generous, and kind.  It wasn't that she didn't see our faults and our life challenges- she did.  But she saw each of us as a whole person that was absolutely precious to her, faults and all.  She loved us unreservedly and always wanted the best for us.

Happy Birthday, Grandma.  This is the first year that I can't send you flowers, and I miss you terribly.  I hope you are surrounded by love, light, and a huge bouquet of your favorite pink flowers in the afterlife.   I love you.

Nipples and Duct Tape

I have your attention now, don’t I? This week North Carolina’s State House Judiciary Committee approved a bill (House bill 34) that would make it a Class H felony to “purposefully expose private parts for the purpose of arousing or gratifying sexual desire”. The bill expanded the state’s definition of private parts to include "a woman’s nipple, or any portion of the areola”.  Republican state representative Tim Moore states in the Valentine’s Day edition of “The Raw Story” that women can protect themselves from prosecution by duct taping their nipples.  “Duct tape fixes everything”, he quips.  Sadly, a woman, Republican state representative Rayne Brown co-sponsored this bill.  She stated that she cosponsored the bill because a topless women’s rights rally had been held last summer, and she wanted to prevent “women from asserting their rights again by going topless at another rally”.  

So many issues here- where to begin? First of all, it appears that what is most offensive to these folks is how the exposure of a woman’s body part affects the men around her, not the actual exposure itself.  If a man sees a woman’s nipple and becomes aroused, that is now something she is held accountable for and could be sent to jail for; not him.  The over aroused man holds no responsibility for his own body, or his own behavior in relation to said arousal.  He is the blameless victim of someone else’s insidious ability to  arouse him, and that person needs immediate and severe punishment for the discomfort that this could cause him.  Poppycock.  I am subject on many a summer day to the sight of men with generous pecs bobbing along on their riding lawn mowers.  As arousing as this excessive pendulous flesh may be, I control my baser urges.I  look my neighbors in the eye, say hello, and go on with my day. I think men should be taught to do the same thing. 

Secondly, this bill makes it a felony for a woman to expose her nipples. A FELONY.  While domestic violence is most frequently prosecuted as a misdemeanor with minimal penalties, exposure of a woman’s God given body parts can now result in six months in jail.  What is it about the sight of the human body that is so much more frightening to some people than violence?  Is the sight of a nipple so much more egregious than the sight of a woman with a black eye and a broken arm?  Where are the priorities in their outrage? 

 The authors of this bill are lucky that they don’t have to take into consideration my definition of what is arousing.  Men would have to curtail many of their every day activities to escape the boundaries of what I might consider attractive.  That touch of grey in their  hair- cover it up.  The way their hands manipulate a trackball. The way their eyes peer over their bifocals when they look at me.  Shameless. I’m almost losing control right now.  And let’s not forget intelligence, sensitivity, kindness, and humor.  The way their eyes unabashedly hold mine; the way they linger over a handshake.  The tone of their voice as they hold a class spellbound with their stories.  Their courage and strength in the face of adversity, and the empathy they show to others when they share their experiences.  Men would have to be totally shrouded to escape my notice, because I see them as whole people, and find much of their attractiveness to be in their largest erogenous zones; their minds and their hearts.  I may have to take a cold shower after writing this, just thinking about those emotional hussies and the damage they could do to our “civilized” society.  The power they hold over my delicate psyche with the arch of an eyebrow or the “come hither” look in their slightly amused eyes.  Someone should write a law against that.  Or better yet, I will get out my big girl pants, take responsibility for my own feelings and behaviors regarding what I find attractive, and say Bring. It. On.  

The Men that Matter (otherwise known as "the harem")

One of my New Year's resolutions was to thank the small circle of men in my life who have the courage and fortitude to deal with me on a regular basis.  Standing toe to toe, mind to mind with me is not for the faint of heart.  I am not an easy woman in any sense of the word. I question, I argue, I agonize.  So without further ado...

To the select group of men in my life who don’t shrink from me in abject terror or try to silence me- thank you.  To sit with you and unleash my thoughts, my fears, my frustrations, without the burden of having to translate myself into someone “more acceptable”  is such a relief.  

That doesn’t mean you don’t challenge me or make me think; or that you don’t hold me accountable for my behavior.  But you love me, you accept me, and you don’t ask me to be anything other than what I am. For that I am profoundly grateful.  There have been others who couldn’t tolerate someone who questioned them or had different beliefs;  someone who didn’t blindly obey them.   You welcomed those qualities.  I saw you watching me with affectionate pride when I made a good argument, played a good game of cribbage, passionately stood up for something I believed in.  

A handful of you have had my back all these years.  Intelligent, creative, strong men; all with an incredible sense of humor and a certain insightful empathy.  You are the circle I draw strength from,  and I hope I give sustenance and strength to you as well.  

I know I test your patience and your will at times.  I have been called a "formidable force" (among many other names) for a reason.  I know I ask you to step outside your comfort zone, to share some of the deepest parts of yourselves with me.  I sometimes ask questions that have no easy answers, or rage against injustices that are larger than I am.   Your calm centers me.  Your counsel gives me direction without attempting to control me.  Your comfort during some of the most difficult times of my life has given me great peace.

I will never be an easy woman.  I will always search, agonize, and challenge. I will push the limits of what I understand, what I value, what I believe in, what I will fight for.  I'm grateful and eternally blessed to be making that journey with all of you.  I am a much better version of myself than I might have been, if I had not had each of you in my life.   Thank you. 

"Where the Tree Falls, the Forest Rises"; Available Now!

An essay of mine, entitled "Orchid" is included in this anthology, "Where the Tree Falls, the Forest Rises", compiled by Charlene Elderkin.  This essay is particularly important to me because it is about my dear friend Michelle, who died suddenly almost five years ago.  Michelle was a vibrant and dynamic woman with a brilliant mind and an enormous heart.  She was my dearest friend for nearly twenty years, and is in my mind and my heart every day. I hope she would be pleased to be a part of this anthology, and to know that her story might bring comfort to others who have also suffered a loss. 

Where the Tree Falls, the Forest Rises: Stories of Death and Renewal

www.amazon.com

For Charlene Elderkin, compiling thirty original, first-person essays from twenty-nine different authors brings the kind of solace and breadth of understanding she longed for when facing her own mother’s end-of-life journey at the hands of chronic lymphocytic leukemia. Now her experience t...