Hiatus

A 6 month hiatus from writing, it’s been hard. It is no reflection of my desire to write but a reflection of myself. I, at times feel that I say the same things repeatedly, obsessively, redundantly. Searching for the perfect vehicle to present the truest of abstraction. How does one truly help others understand the deepest emotions. What words can be used to describe the innermost self. I will continue to reflect, assess, adjust, remember, dream, make, look, listen, laugh, cry…seek clarity.

Why am I private?

Its been awhile since I have written, by choice. Sometimes I am uncertain of what or why I write. I am unsure if anyone cares about what I write or if I even should concern myself with what others think. I started writing this blog really to open myself up, to document, record things that effect me or interest, inspire me. I wanted to create a bridge a place where others could find refuge and I know this happens through the personal messages I receive from you. Everyday I experience something that inspires me to write and share here. This at times is my journal, a look into myself. 

I have recently been spending time contemplating myself and my role in this world. I am complex at times and am uncertain of the path I have chosen to walk. I try at all times to remain humble and self evaluate. I try to protect myself from the true vulnerability I experience on a daily basis. I work at removing the instinctual barriers I display with others. I try to be myself and allow myself to feel a wide range of emotions. These are hard things for me to do but I continue to push myself because I believe this is where I continue to grow. I challenge myself to get out of my comfort zone and experience nervousness and excitement. I continue to engage in speaking opportunities which really makes me feel inadequate and vulnerable. Standing in front of others and speaking is a scary thing for me to do, yet I push myself to grow. 

I don't know why I am scared of what anyone thinks of me, but I am

I don’t know what Im doing…I just keep doing.

Thank You for taking a minute to read this, I am always amazed that anyone cares.

B

If Normal were a color- An open letter to young readers

Painting a picture of normal 

If normal were a color it would have many profound shades. Many struggle with the palette of normal and believe to their core they are not. However who claims normal to be a pure consistent hue of certainty? We know young people struggle with personal identification and normalcy. We know many adults model what they believe to be a normal persona in thought and action. Young people are particularly susceptible to decision making which may have an immediate effect on their current situation. Most who suffer from behavioral health issues seek a life of pure consistent normalcy. This innate drive is fostered by internal and external factors alike. Young people want to feel, be normal to others. They seek concrete reinforcement form their immediate surroundings. I was never comfortable with myself as an adolescent. I never felt as though I fit in. I surrounded myself with others who didn't fit in. I engaged in behaviors which made me numb to the uncomfortableness. I felt lost, trapped, hopeless. I put myself in the position to allow others to define me, my character. No matter how hard I tried I could not find normal…or at least what I thought normal should be. As I have grown older I still struggle with the socially acceptable “normal”. I still do not know what that means and I somehow have found comfort in understanding that there are many shades of normal. 

In my painting of normal there are many colors and shades, on most days my painting looks completely different then it did the day before. And I find comfort in that.

if you struggle with normal please know you are not alone, if you cannot find someone to talk to out of fear of judgement, please know I understand. 

B

82.1

82.1

How do you fill the emptiness, the feeling that never goes away? 

How do you face the day, the world? 

How do you get out of bed? 

How do you continue on? 

How do you keep it to yourself?

How do you hide it?

How do you act normal?

How do you communicate with others?

How do you face yourself?

How do you explain it to others?

How do you do you?

How do you feel normal?

How do you do it?

on average 82.1 people commit suicide each day…RIP RW

Everyone has a story...

I have several speaking engagements coming up and sometimes I am amazed anyone would want to hear me talk. I never considered myself a “public” speaker and really have spent much of my life very shy and somewhat reserved. I learned that to accomplish anything I would need to step out of my comfort zone and engage others. I was asked several years ago to tell “my story” at a private luncheon and I had never spoken open and honestly with a room of strangers about the person who I used to be and the journey I have been on. I believed my recovery, my story were things I should be ashamed of, to hide, to only share in the company of others with similar stories. I have challenged myself to make my recovery, my journey a source of pride. If I were a survivor of any other disease I would wear my pride on my sleeve. There are many things I don't understand about myself, but I have faith and hope. I don't understand why I have been blessed with the opportunity to have an audience to listen to me. My story is not that different than others’, but it’s my story…everyone has story.
B

Am I Normal?

What is normal and where can I find it? If I find it will I know I have found it? I have never felt “normal” even as a child I never felt like I fit in anywhere. As I think back of the kids I spent time with I never really felt close to many people. I never felt like I truly fit in. As I became a teenager, this only worsened and I began to dislike myself. I spent time with very few people and that time was guarded and uncomfortable. I had a serious of relationships with girls who I truly believe cared about me and my well being. But I was unable to have a healthy relationship. Something I am not proud of. My best with relationship came in the form of self destruction. My inability to feel “normal” and the residual consequences of hating who I was, was the perfect storm of addiction and self harm. I not only wanted to feel normal, I wanted to feel. 

As I have aged my definition and desire for normalcy has changed and continues to change. At times, Im okay, other times, I want to hide from the world. I don't know what normal is. I understand and have taught myself and shared in normalcy with others, but rarely do I feel it. I know after years of practice, modeling how to act, feel, express myself; but I am still lost. 

I still look at myself and contemplate…Who am I? Am I ok? Am I normal?

B

Two eternities...

“In any weather, at any hour of the day or night, I have been anxious to improve the nick of time, and notch it on my stick too; to stand on the meeting of two eternities, the past and future, which is precisely the present moment; to toe that line.” ― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Lately I have been dealing the world better. I have eliminated some of my stressors and have tapered myself off my anxiety medication. I have experienced stress and at times have felt my blood pressure rise. I have had some poor sleeping patterns. But it’s manageable. I need to feel. I have had the opportunity to put myself in several new and uncomfortable situations the last few weeks. I have experienced a range of emotions, most of which included nervousness. I was told many years ago being nervous is a healthy emotion to experience. To take a deep breath and reflect inward. When I am nervous I know that I am not over confident. I can identify the disconnect between my heart and mind. I can humble myself, submit, let go. Many of the situations I become nervous about I have little to no control over. I have to identify how I fit into them, to deal with them. If I do not follow this process, resistance begins to take root. The immediate response to the situation becomes: I can’t deal with this, I don’t want to deal with this, I won’t deal with this. This is the seed of anger, frustration. This is a disconnect. For me this is an unhealthy scenario. A place I work to avoid. Stress, Anxiety, and nervousness are natural. I continue to work on my relationship with them because I know that I continue to grow in these relationships. I continue to feel.
B

1988- Journal entry

I wrote this when I was early in my recovery and still trying to figure out what was going on around me and within me. I was 18 years old...

Life is a mirror, look at what you see.
The crowd behind you begins to flee.
The rage you feel begins to surge
you clinch your fists, you feel the urge
Shatter your life, break the mirror
feel the pain, the pain is fear.
your all alone, no one around
the thoughts in your head are the only sound

it really sucks, its always the same.
the life I lived was a no win game.
Try and be happy I know I should.
Try so hard...I wish I could.
To end it all I think I would.
All I did was fucking cry.
I never had the nerve to die.
Every thing's the same, nothing new.
What am I suppose to do?

It's my desicion
I'll decide.
to take the ride
or run and hide.

B

Thanksgiving- the act of giving thanks

“You cannot do a kindness too soon because you never know how soon it will be too late”. Ralph Waldo Emerson

This week is thanksgiving and many people will gather with family and others to share a meal and time together. Many will travel great distances to be with others, physically and emotionally. For me this is the holiday specific to being grateful, kind, and thankful. I try to acknowledge my gratitude daily. If you are a reader of this blog or you know me personally, you know that I have much to be grateful for. Our daily schedules sometimes supersede our ability to reflect and be grateful. I spend time every day looking into the sky. I enjoy the beauty of the clouds. I find comfort in looking to them, acknowledging them, watching as they change. This is something I am grateful for; they represent something much larger than myself and my life.

I will take my children on thanksgiving to a local food pantry and work, serving those in need. This is practicing gratitude. This is teaching my children to be thankful. This is teaching my children that the needs of others are more important. This teaches my children to understand the practice of thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving- the act of giving thanks

During the holiday take a moment to live in the moment, be silent, listen, look, be grateful, and say thank you!
B

Why I went to the woods

“what is joy without sorrow? what is success without failure? what is a win without a loss? what is health without illness? you have to experience each if you are to appreciate the other. there is always going to be suffering. it’s how you look at your suffering, how you deal with it, that will define you.” ― Mark Twain

The past week has been very difficult for me to navigate. Things have been very out of balance, very overwhelming, and very hard to keep myself on course. I have been subject to some highly stressful situations and at times wanted to scream, cry, and disappear. Luckily I know how my cycle feels and I have different techniques to help myself. I am able to work through, to stay the course. But what is the cost? I want the world to pause for a minute. To let me catch my breath. I considered a self-imposed time out from the world and this is always an option. But how do I surrender to that? How do I do what needs to be. Knowing helps. Talking to others helps. I have to remember to go into the woods, close my eyes, breath, and be mindful…this too shall pass

B

Secondary Traumatic Stress, When do we quit helping others in need, Four rigs with cocaine residue

This week I have been in several situations where I have been mindful of an underlying conflict, a question, a debate. I have visited someone in jail, participated in a group debate, and helped someone begin to understand. All three situations were very different but contained a question, a desire, resistance, hope, confusion. All three shared a common thought, emotion, and question; when do we quit helping someone in need? What if we encounter someone who has been given every opportunity to make adjustments to their lives, to themselves and they continue to make decisions and behave in a way that is counter to the desired positive outcome? Do we stop helping, do we give up, do we turn away, and do we no longer help? What if the person is incapable of doing what is necessary? What if the person is incapable of seeing? What if they are unable to see themselves in their lives? What if they can’t bear to look at their lives and themselves? What if the guilt and shame are unbearable? Do we give up?

 I have previously written about pain, suffering, compassion and empathy and I don’t want to restate something that I have already touched on in previous post. I want to talk about Secondary Traumatic Stress or “the cost of caring”. I believe the current that runs through all of these questions is a person’s threshold for compassion and empathy. Expressing these can try on a person; they can become a weight on your shoulders, on your mind, your spirit, and your heart. When we experience someone else’s pain we can reach our “limit” and look for an option to break ties. We want that break up to be the other’s fault. We are done, and we shut the door. We want to bury the situation, the person, in a grave of blame filled with shame, disgust, and anger. We are suffering from compassion fatigue. We have reached our limit with the person. This is the easy way out…detachment.

How do we prevent this? Through self-care. We need to relieve our stress; we need to share with others the burden we experience. We need to laugh. We need to feel safe, understood, we need “cosigners”. We need to separate ourselves at times to let go of the attachment, the emotions. We need others to help us. We need to self-reflect. We need to be mindful. We need to seek positive healthy ways to alleviate our stress, our pain.

We need to be reminded that we should not give up on anyone. 

B   

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.-Henri Nouwen

This week I have been reflecting on my understanding of pain. I encounter many people who are experiencing, dealing with, and healing from different forms of pain. I have always thought I could see peoples’ pains through their eyes, and I believed that this is how I am able to share compassion and empathy with others. 

A unified experience of pain. 

This week I spent some time with someone experiencing an amount of pain that he has chosen to alter the course of his life and as we talked I could see the pain in his eyes.   And I acknowledged his pain, I empathized with his pain. It was pain that I can relate to. I told him I cared about his well-being and replied, “I know you do, I can see it in your eyes.” The hard part about pain is that we sometimes think we know how another experiences pain. We imprint our on pain experiences on the person and sometimes believe that what they are experiencing is maybe not the big deal they think it is. We discredit, minimize, and undervalue what the other person is experiencing. Why? I think for many it easier; to not share in another human being’s pain. And maybe this is okay for many. Maybe everyone is incapable of compassion and empathy. At times I am exhausted by practicing my own empathy and compassion. But the more I use these, the more I am able to use these. For a long time I did not want to live my life like this; I didn't want to hear or experience other people’s pain. I had my own to deal with. I had to learn to understand my own pain before I was ready to show empathy to others. I still experience pain; I still have hurt feelings, anger, stress, rejection, poor self-esteem and self-worth. But I am able to  better understand these things and take care of myself.  Please don’t assume you understand another person’s pain…I don't

B

Hope...

This morning I have been contemplating HOPE and what it means, where it comes from and my relationship with it. Much has been written, studied, discussed about hope. All the great “smart” and “important” people in history have had an opinion about it, both good and bad. But what is it? Where is it? Where does it go? And how do you have a relationship with it? When I think of hope I instantly think of desire and then dream. But are these the same and how are they related? And how does wants and needs effect hope? I started this line of thought thinking I would find an easy answer and yet I continue to discover more questions. What is it that people hope for? Is this what people pray for? How are small hopes different from large hopes? Has hope become undervalued because of our quickness to use it? Can Hope be taught? Is hope only inspired? Are their people who do not hope?

1: the feeling of wanting something to happen and thinking that it could happen: a feeling that something good will happen or be true,
2: the chance that something good will happen
3: someone or something that may be able to provide help: someone or something that gives you a reason for hoping
These are the three general definitions found online. It seems so simple when I read the definitions...

The nature of the work I do has me involved in the third definition on a daily basis. I want to inspire others to have hope. Hope for a different kind of life. A hope that motivated me into recovery. A hope that I think most who suffer from any kind of illness hope for. Anyone who is sick will normally tell you that their hope is to get better. But what if they can’t get better? How does hope change? What if you are told you are going to die? How would your hopes change? What if you were condemned to prison or an institution for the rest of your life? How would you have hope? Is it possible to inspire hope when someone has given up hope?
I don’t know the answers to all these questions but I am certain I will continue to assess my personal hopes and my relationship with hope…and I hope you do to!

B

I want to be loved...

“He allowed himself to be swayed by his conviction that human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, but that life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves.” ― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

I want to be loved. I want to be cared for. I want to be liked, respected. I want to matter. I want others to think I’m okay. Often times I think about my funeral. I imagine what people may say about me in my passing. I think about the ending of the story of my life and does it end well or in tragedy. I am not perfect, nor will I ever be. Probably better to not be perfect as I need a reminder where I need to grow as a person.  I want to be okay with me. I want to look in the mirror and know and be comfortable with the person I see. I want to smile more, laugh more. I want to let down my guard more. I want to feel safe more. I want to be less scared; scared of myself and the world.
For those who take a minute out of your days to read this please know it means the world to me. I find it strange that anyone cares what comes out of my mouth.

I’m glad you’re listening…makes me feel like it matters and that you care.
B

Who am I and why am I here?

Who am I and why am I here is a question that I ask myself daily. I was asked to address a conference for mental health recovery and this was the title of my speech. I believed the committee assumed I would be bringing answers to this questions not spend my hour discussing why I continue to ask myself this question. I have always longed for a different “version” of myself. 
     I have never felt comfortable with myself. When I look in the mirror, I sometimes don’t know the person reflected there. Most days I struggle through feeling scared. Not scared of the world, but scared of how I am reacting to it. Many people have observed and commented on my “laid back” demeanor. This has taken years of self-reflection and practice to keep my emotional state on a level plane. I know at times I project a “stand offish”, intimidating, mean expression on my face. I do this not by choice. This is part of my natural self-defense mechanism- (insert fight or flight). I do not want to mean or thought of as someone who is a jerk or scary. I really am not. One of the saddest and meanest things anyone has ever said to me is, “no matter how hard you work on recreating who you are, people will always know the true you by the expression you carry on your face and in your eyes.” This was told to me over twenty years ago and it haunts me. It’s not like I am trying to be someone I am not. I was given an opportunity through recovery to change the way my story ends. This is what I call the “gift and curse” of recovery. I believe that if I or anyone else wanted to write the story of my life, I have been given the ability to affect the outcome of how that story ends. This is what I am doing. 
To be continued...
B

I didn't want to die but I didn't want to live-by request and censored by request

The first time I cut my wrists,
a great light came over me,
not only had I found a way to release my sadness but I also found the perfect way to illustrate my emotions. I had this mark on my body that conveyed a message for all to see. A message that could only be interpreted one way, I was hurting. My self harm was a perfect complement to my substance abuse, I could intoxicate myself, cut on myself to amplify the high, release my sadness, and send a message to those around me that my life was spiraling out of control and that I had deep rooted emotional issues. I wore the cuts on my body like huge billboards, “I’M HURTING”. I never wanted to kill myself but romanticized the idea that I could cut deeper, more, bigger and come close to death. In fact the closer I came, the better it felt.

The more I cut, the better I felt.

What started as an experiment with emotions and pain quickly developed into an obsession.
I cut on myself everyday; designing patterns of marks that somehow exemplified the number of times I had felt pain. The only problem is I didn't have enough skin. I cut on cuts, I cut on scabs, and I cut and cut. The group of people I hung around were impressed with my cutting. Other kids at my high school, with whom I had never spoken, came forward to compare their cutting to mine, an exchange of desires, dreams, and shared pain; a somewhat intimate exchange. Finally they must have thought someone we can relate to and someone who needs us. I never wanted to gain any relationships from my self-harm, only bring attention and resolve to the destructive nature of my own existence. I became obsessed with using different instruments to cut with razor blades, utility knife blades, broken glass, pins, and needles. As the sensation of cutting began to numb, new ways became a last option. I began to burn “blue circles” into my wrists using a cigarette. I would lie in bed and choke myself. I would punch myself repeatedly in the face and stomach. I didn't want to die but I knew I didn't want to live.
B

Where is Peace?

Where is peace? I asked myself this simple question multiple times a day and night. I am victim of inner turmoil on a nonstop basis, anxiety, nervousness, worry. At times my mind races at a pace that my heart picks up to keep pace. I have learned many techniques to ease my anxiousness. I look at myself in the mirror every morning and become scared. I don’t know who I have become, what I am supposed to do, how I am to act. I have a clear understanding of what is expected of a productive member of society and what is considered appropriate versus not. I have honed my moral compass to what I believe is an acceptable social level. I believe in the tenets of good values, I practice these and seek others who share similar believes and practices.

As I age and look at myself, I notice the landscape of my physical identity slowly change. My hair is greyer; my skin has begun to take on new identity. I have to remind myself that life, happiness, is not a destination. I must continue to work on myself, to continue to look at myself and push forward. I still have much room to grow, to become a better person. Those of you who knew me previous to this journey you know how far I have come.

I still have many character defects. I still fight with my inner-self constantly. Peace is a journey. I look at myself daily, take a deep breath, and challenge myself to be better person.

B

Fear

I was recently asked why someone in an active addiction cycle cannot abstain from their drug of choice even after they admittedly say they don’t want to continue use. They honestly want to chart a new course for their lives, a course that is drug free; but they can’t. This is perceived by others as an example of dishonesty, a “he doesn't really want to stop”, “she’s just saying that, but doesn't really mean it”, “drug addicts should just stop using drugs”. This week I facilitated a treatment group where we discussed and defined addiction, a complicated task for anyone to achieve. We used and examined the American Society of AddictionMedicine’s definition. Here is the “short” definition:

Addiction is a primary, chronic disease of brain reward, motivation, memory and related circuitry. Dysfunction in these circuits leads to characteristic biological, psychological, social and spiritual manifestations. This is reflected in an individual pathologically pursuing reward and/or relief by substance use and other behaviors.

Addiction is characterized by inability to consistently abstain, impairment in behavioral control, craving, diminished recognition of significant problems with one’s behaviors and interpersonal relationships, and a dysfunctional emotional response. Like other chronic diseases, addiction often involves cycles of relapse and remission. Without treatment or engagement in recovery activities, addiction is progressive and can result in disability or premature death.

As you can see this is a complicated disease. There are many factors that cause an individual to engage in an addiction cycle and the baffling part of the disease is that the brain constantly “plays a trick” on the individual to continue the cycle. There is no way to “fix” the problem. Everyone has different path into addiction and just as complex as the journey into, the journey out is even more complicated. Many attempt, many commit themselves to the journey and become lost. Sometimes death is the only relieve from the suffering. I wish we could solve the complicated mess of addiction. In recovery I know how blessed I am. I am not perfect nor do I try to be, however 25 years ago something happened in the universe, the heavens, and in my life. I began the journey of recovery. I work with others daily in addiction and recovery. I get to share in the pain, the pride, the sadness, the relief, the honest and dishonest, the loneliness, the happiness, the Fear…and for that I am blessed! 

B

By Request (2) dko

I was recently asked to write about what books I am reading and why. I attempt to read often and when I was in college (and without 4 children), I was much more disciplined in my reading habit. I enjoy reading and read a range of nonfiction. For the past year I have really focused on books dealing and about substance abuse, spirituality, and recovery. My choice for reading these types of books is varied in selection. I read some for self-improvement, maintenance of myself, strategies and understanding for working with others, and some I read for a ways to improve my own writing. Since I began to write and talk about my own emotions, thoughts and processes, I have found it hard to put into words the range of things I experience. Reading how others write helps…

1. Currently reading this book as it is a first hand account of Depression and the Author William Styron has done an amazing job of putting into words the feelings and thoughts experienced by someone with Depression.

Favorite Excerpt (thus far), "Death, as I have said, was now a daily presence, blowing over me in cold gusts. I had not conceived precisely how my end would come. In short, I was still keeping the idea of suicide at bay. But plainly the possibility was around the corner, I would soon meet it face to face" page 50

Purchase

2. Currently reading this book also. The Author David Kennedy is co founder of "Cease Fire". He has spent decades studying Youth Violence and so far does an amazing job at detailing the complex issues surrounding youth and why they are involved in violence and how to address and possibly change the culture.

Favorite excerpt (thus far), "Nearly all of the worst violence and crime in America's most troubled neighborhoods is driven by a small, super-heated world of gangs and drug crews and drug markets. It is a world with its own rules, its own standards, its own understandings. It is a community, make no mistake; it is a community where men will kill for their brothers, die for their brothers, where being a thug is a good and honorable thing, where thug love means having your brothers' backs, no matter what the cost. It is world in which young men stand against a powerful, malevolent world and say to themselves and to each other, Prison's no big thing; I'm going to be dead by the time I'm twenty-five, so nothing really matters; if a man  is disrespected, he has to return violence or he's not a man; the enemy of my friend is my enemy; I'm a victim, so I'm justified in what I do." page 20

Purchase

B

Tear drops of self control

I found myself on the receiving end of a violent tirade this week. The person was so angry he was unwilling and truly unable to hear anything that came from mouth, including an apology for a misunderstanding. He confronted me in an exhibit of pure rage including threats of harm to my wellbeing. I sat in my chair, and without hesitation, didn’t move. My hands placed securely on the arms of the chair, my body relaxed, and my face void of emotion. And I sat, and I received his yelling and threats, and I absorbed his emotion, and I resisted the urge to respond, and I refused to engage, escalate, enrage. And when he finished or maybe realized I was not going to respond, he left. This is the most desirable less likely outcome. This could have had many endings, which no doubt would have included me returning to a version of myself for which I have so worked to control. I understand these situations are as much about myself as they are the perpetrator. The work I have invested into making myself a “kinder gentler” version of myself has been a lifelong process. To understand and adhere to a strict doctrine of conflict resolution that is based on nonviolence. I believe this is part of my destiny, to restore some type of balance in my life and the community.  

After he left I was consumed with emotion. . I took a deep breath and began the process of de-escalating myself.  My hands shook, my face was flush, adrenaline rushed through my body, and tears ran out of the corner of eyes. Tear drops of self control.

 

Have a Blessed week, I have...

B