Friday, February 28, 2014

The Foul Stench of Hatred

Friday, February 28, 2014


For all the technology, advancement and 'progress' we humans have created in the last century we are still an amazingly violent species. There are many times when I think all our supposed 'progress' is simply some thin veneer, some sales gimmick pulled over us by a culture at large that is deeply sick, paranoid, angry and reactive. There are plenty of examples lately to choose from as documentary evidence of my perspective.

Anyone following the beloved 'culture wars' here in this country knows that so called anti-discrimination legislation has been in the news lately. Most prominent has been the news out of Arizona where Governor Jan Brewer recently vetoed a bill (SB 1062) that would have allowed people to refuse service to gay people on the basis of their personally held religious beliefs. Much has been said since her veto on Wednesday. Some proponents of the bill seem to think they are being persecuted due to their Christian faith and that the bill's failure is more evidence of the truth of their claim. Somehow some proponents of SB 1062 imagine that their own religious liberty is being trampled upon because they are not being allowed to express their beliefs through the particular act of refusing service to people whose personal lives they do not agree with. Another term for refusing service or access by virtue of some quality of a person is discrimination. I find it interesting how yet again people of the religious 'Right' are making themselves out to be the victims when the bill was focused on reducing access to gays and lesbians!

Some opponents of the bill, while cheering Brewer's decision to veto, have astutely wondered aloud if the real motivation for her veto was the harmful economic impact Arizona would have suffered had the bill passed. Simply put, gay people and their allies would have looked other places to spend their money. And businesses with firm and longstanding non-discriminatory/diversity-inclusive work environment policies would have frowned upon doing business in a state that would permit such exclusion. I believe these observations are indeed very astute and correct. I think the pain this bill would have directly caused the GLBT community was secondary. The almighty dollar unfortunately speaks more to many people's hearts and minds. For the full content of Jan Brewer's statement as she vetoed SB 1062 look here.

The recent uproar recalls the older African American civil rights movement and the pictures from the days in which blacks and whites had separate drinking fountains. Racism is certainly not dead in this country. Homophobia is not dead either. Indeed, homophobia is something the United States exports to other nations! More on that later.

A number of other states have also been in the news due to similar efforts their legislatures have undertaken to craft bills similar to the one recently defeated in Arizona. Georgia and Kansas are but two examples. How the people in the legislatures of such states imagine such bills could possibly have a net positive impact is nearly beyond my comprehension. Growing up I considered Christianity to be a positive term. Then, as I began to hear more about what some people imagine Christianity to be, I began to feel quite differently about the term. I have never understood that the person of Jesus Christ ever advocated exclusion or hate. Indeed, he was reputed to pass his time with many marginalized groups of people such as criminals, prostitutes, the unfaithful, women and so on.

The stench of American-grown hatred is rising up in Uganda as well. I'll write more about that in a coming post. I wasn't even planning to write today!


Wednesday, February 26, 2014

One Hundred Days of Silence

Wednesday, February 26, 2014


The strength of the sun is becoming so much greater here on the ground in Minnesota.  And yet it is doing almost nothing to melt off our white wonderland.  It's still cold!

While out and about today I noticed the sounds and motion of many trees caught in the bitter winds.  I noticed the emptiness of the trees.  And I tried to recall the last time I had heard the wind playing upon leaf bedecked branches.  It's been a while.  It's been something like one hundred days now.  The trees make a different symphony of sound in winter; it's a collection of pieces I am ready to see pass away now.

The best news of my entire day is that it appears I will finally begin working again no later than March 10th.  It's not an exciting job I have agreed to take on but it is something to move me in a better direction.  I am, however, excited by the connections I may be able to make through this opportunity.  Brighter days are coming to me both literally and metaphorically.

I am going to take a break from my blog writing through this Sunday.  I plan to return to writing next Monday, March 3rd.


Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Eight Months Later

Tuesday, February 25, 2014


Today marks exactly eight months since I was unexpectedly diagnosed with PTSD.  And it's been essentially a full month since I was deemed to be sub-clinical for the disorder.  Considering what an incredible b**** of a winter it has been I must say I am quite impressed with the speedy recovery I have made.  When we squarely focus our minds on a goal it is truly amazing what we can accomplish.  And it seems to me it's not necessarily accomplishing the goals we set for ourselves that can be difficult but rather not allowing the inevitable obstacles that arise to derail us from our commitment.

We're about to go into the deep freeze...yet again.  Again!  Here I had been consoling myself with the thought of March coming.  And yes, March is nearly here.  But it seems winter is going to relinquish its grip only very slowly this year.  And as I wrote recently it now seems best that we have a gentle, slow spring.  Suddenly melting two feet of snow would not be a very good thing.

Next week marks the beginning of Lent.  I can hardly believe myself as I type this but I am actually going to 'give up something' for Lent.  It doesn't seem possible that I would even be willing to acknowledge the season of Lent.  What am I now?  I'm not really a Christian.  I'm not an atheist.  I'm not just a pagan.  I really don't know fully what I am.  But I do know I am willing to give up something I don't want to participate in.  I want to give up limited thinking.  I want to give up thinking inside the box.  I want to start believing that anything really is possible in my life...despite all the challenges, complications, obstacles, setbacks, suffering, confusion, hardship, cruelty, indifference and abuse I have experienced in my life thus far.  Despite all the pain I have gone through I now find myself approaching that magical threshold of rebirth...also known as Spring.  It's coming.  The power of the Sun will not be denied.

The time has come for me to take a bit of a break from writing this blog.  I have a promising interview scheduled for tomorrow.  I might finally be working as soon as next Monday.  I need a break from my writing process.  I need some time to pass so the font of creativity can refill inside me.  I also need to refocus my energy on preparing to move forward in these other aspects of my life.

I plan for tomorrow to be my last day of writing in my blog until next Monday, March 3rd.  I hope to return to my writing refreshed and renewed.


Monday, February 24, 2014

The Greatest Fear

Monday, February 24, 2014


Last week I was able to articulate what my greatest fear is.  I did so while meeting with my therapist.  I wasn't exactly expecting what I arrived at.

Seeing my mother last year helped me to awaken my awareness to my most ancient fear.  As I spoke in session last week I first acknowledged an old fear I once held that somehow one day I might become like my mother...namely schizophrenic and not able to function as a contributing member of society.  But as I spoke more I realized that fear wasn't my 'greatest' fear.

When you become sick you can become vulnerable.  Whether you become weak as a result of illness there is nonetheless the possibility of being perceived as being weak due to being ill.  When ill it can become necessary to trust in the power and integrity of health care professionals to help you become well again.  Allowing yourself to be cared for requires a certain amount of vulnerability.  And so I was able to reach the heart of the matter.

My greatest fear is not that I would one day potentially become seriously ill.  No, my greatest fear is that such illness would require me to trust others in a most intimate way.  The healing process can require us to allow complete strangers into our lives to help us.  And that can be a very scary experience...especially when we have been deeply hurt very early in our own development.

To overcome our fears we first must be consciously aware of them.




Sunday, February 23, 2014

A Priest, A Therapist and an Aikido Instructor Walk Into A Bar

Sunday, February 23, 2014


I am at one of my favorite haunts this morning, namely the cafeteria at Abbott Northwestern Hospital.  It's actually an amazingly good place to get some quality writing done on a Sunday morning.  The well within me seems to be bubbling up again this morning so here goes.

Yesterday, after completing the listening training class at the Basilica of St. Mary, I spoke with Fr. Bauer about this most unpleasant pattern in my life in which I keep allowing people into my life and later end up feeling quite wounded or betrayed.  It's become quite wearisome.  Indeed, I want to throw up my hands and scream to the Cosmos to just show me....the....d***...way.  I have been in this place before in my life as well.  Indeed, occasionally I wonder if I will ever emerge from this rut of hardship.  I look around at my life and sometimes wonder what in the world happened.

In talking with Fr. Bauer yesterday I attempted to identify the common elements to the debacles of recent months.  I have identified a few themes.  One aspect to my pattern is that I tend to let people into my life too quickly.  I also seem to effortlessly attract people who somehow are so unconscious that they cannot accept or even identify their portion of responsibility for what later occurs.  This has happened repeatedly.  I keep thinking I have learned how to have healthier boundaries (and I do believe I have learned quite a bit) but then I keep having these experiences that leave me wondering if my sense of the reality of who I am is a bit skewed.

One interesting bit of wisdom came to me twice yesterday.  While speaking with Fr. Bauer he mentioned the work of Richard Rohr.  He specifically said something about how if you don't transmute your pain you will quite possibly transmit it.  That's not an encouraging scenario!  Later, while attending the closing session Rohr is a Franciscan, contemporary theologian, writer and facilitator who was ordained in the Catholic Church in 1970.  This is all I know of him at the moment.

When the same name or idea appears in my life more than once in rapid succession I interpret it as a cue from the Cosmos to pay attention and explore whatever is appearing.  I believe this is a very healthy approach.  Indeed, what kind of person would any of us become if we consistently ignore that which repeatedly appears in our life?  When a consistent pattern appears in our lives I believe it is wise to pay attention...if for no other reason than I do not want the potential karma that can come when I ignore playful hints from the Cosmos to....PAY ATTENTION!

I am also going to take some time later today to simply reflect on what I am feeling and lay out my circumstances before the Creator.  I struggle to use the word God given its existing connotations and the baggage I already have related to that word.  I hope some sense of greater calm and clarity will settle upon me.

...

I watched a YouTube video of Richard Rohr giving a presentation at Texas Lutheran University.  He spoke about the first and second half of life.  It was an interesting way of viewing life...including my own.  When I go to therapy on Monday I'm going to use this concept as a frame for speaking about how to move forward from where I am now.


Saturday, February 22, 2014

Two Feet

Saturday, February 22, 2014


Two feet.  That is how much snow is now on the ground in the Twin Cities area.  I found this figure on the Twin Cities National Weather Service website.  I previously had been praying for a spring that comes soon and does not resemble the one we had last year.  Now it's probably best the spring come on slowly; a flash spring with sudden warm temperatures could cause such sudden melting of the snowpack that serious flooding could result.

I completed a half-day in listening training at the Basilica of St. Mary today.  I enjoyed the course and look forward to completing the formal training portion next Saturday.  I found myself a bit tired at the end of the training.  It's actually more of a weariness I feel today.  I am weary of winter.  At least the days continue to lengthen.  It's 6 p.m. now and light still fills the sky.

I feel as if I have hit a bit of a dry, cold spell in my writing as well.  Maybe I need to take a break sooner rather than later.  Perhaps my grief is beckoning me inward to engage in a period of deeper contemplation and reflection.  In practicing my own self-care it is wise to attend to cues such as these.

Friday, February 21, 2014

Stasis

Friday, February 21, 2014


For the first time in a very long time I am writing my daily entry shortly before the day formally ends in my own time zone.  I'm going to take a little vacation from blog writing in March at some point.  I enjoy writing each day but I think taking a brief step away from the keyboard will help my font of creativity to refill a bit.

What can I say but that today was a bit frustrating.  My forward progress seems as frozen as the landscape outdoors.  We had the biggest snowstorm of the winter season yesterday.  And now we have two feet of snow on the ground.  Sigh.  And more potentially record cold may arrive next week...just in time for March to begin.  Seriously, I am trying to keep a glowing smile on my face but it is quite a challenge lately.  I simply did not want to walk outside this morning and shovel.  But I did.  I want Spring!  Ugh.

None of my efforts to achieve most anything in a timely way have produced results throughout this week.  I have managed to maintain my dedication to my gym regimen.  And I continue to follow my other healthy daily habits.  And yet I still feel like I am marching in place and am hemmed in all around by snowbanks.


Tomorrow morning I will attend my next Listening training of the Befriender Ministry at the Basilica of St. Mary.  I have no idea where this will ultimately lead me but then again I don't know where my whole life is going at the moment.  In the last week I feel as if I am being brought to my knees in some sort of surrender.  I need some form of grace or aid above and beyond what seems to be unfolding in my life now.  I decided to take this training in part as a way of giving a gift to myself to continue to reestablish a healthy balance between my own self-care and the kindness I show to others.

One day the snow will melt and the season will truly turn.







Thursday, February 20, 2014

When One Person Disappears

Thursday, February 20, 2014


What might be the biggest snowstorm of the year is now about to begin here in the Twin Cities.  To say I am a bit weary of winter would be an understatement.  I am trying not to think much about the forecast for next week when the temperature is expected to plunge below 0F.  The growing storm will probably act like a giant mixmaster over Lake Superior.  There has been a lot of news coverage lately about how the Great Lakes are nearly completely iced over.  Yes, the winter has been that severe.

Late winter is such an excellent time to practice focusing on the positive in your life.  When weariness regarding the hibernation of the world outside your windows grips you it's a good time to look inward and count your blessings.  I have been reminded of the goodness in my life yet again due to unfortunate tragedy that has impacted someone I still have not met in person.

Two months ago I completed my fellowship I was awarded through the American Council on Germany.  It was a long time in coming.  Since then I have been looking for new work.  I have actually been looking to proceed in an entirely new direction. (Unexpected diagnoses can have a way of broadsiding a person)  One place I have been exploring for potential leads to start a new direction is the Nature Based Therapeutics program within the Center for Spirituality and Healing at the University of Minnesota.  I had been engaged in something of a dialogue with the faculty lead of the NBT program for the last couple months.  Then the unthinkable happened.  She was in an accident.  I have the impression the entire program at the University of Minnesota could be seriously impacted by her unexpected absence.  It is amazing what can happen when a single person disappears from our lives.  And thus I reach my topic for today.

I believe it not unusual for persons with personal histories that include extensive trauma to feel quite sensitive to the most minor of unfortunate incidents, losses, setbacks and so on.  This has been my experience.  I actually spoke about this theme with my therapist the other day; this recent misfortune is not the first time a person somewhat close to me has suffered some grave misfortune whose impact then ripples out and affects innumerable lives.  Sometimes being alive and truly awake in this world is hard.  Loss is inevitable.  Pain is also inevitable.  But suffering, supposedly, is optional.  Aye, there is the challenge.

I was impressed by the 'rant' a local acquaintance posted on Facebook recently.  I do not know him well but I sense he is quite a quality guy.  Reading between the lines I sense he is a sensitive man with a lot to offer others.  He alluded to the issue of entitlement.  Encountering entitled people is certainly something I do not enjoy.  I have known such loss in my own life that it has been difficult (thankfully) for me to get too caught up in the illusion that I will always have everything I want in my life and my life will always run smoothly.  And so when I meet people who can honestly feel as if their whole day is ruined because their coffee wasn't quite hot enough (or insert your own minor event here)  I find myself struggle to be patient and open.  Such issues as the temperature of coffee or arriving five minutes late to an event are so very minor when compared to the major issues that seem to be growing in this country.  What does the temperature of your coffee matter when you look around at what we are faced with in this nation as well as across the world?

As I alluded to recently in my blog our weather across the entire nation is seriously bizarre.  We'll have more snow than what we know what to do with here in Minnesota by Friday night.  Meanwhile, California is the driest it has been since about 1580.  England is flooding, roses are blooming in Germany in February and meanwhile many humans are still doing what they do well...namely treating each other poorly.  I recall the following quote to mind from one of my favorite authors, Leo Tolstoy:


“Though men in their hundreds of thousands had tried their hardest to disfigure that little corner of the earth where they had crowded themselves together, paving the ground with stones so that nothing could grow, weeding out every blade of vegetation, filling the air with the fumes of coal and gas, cutting down trees and driving away every beast and every bird -- spring, however, was still spring, even in the town. The sun shone warm, the grass, wherever it had not been scraped away, revived and showed green not only on the narrow strips of lawn on the boulevards but between the paving-stones as well, and the birches, the poplars and the wild cherry-trees were unfolding their sticky, fragrant leaves, and the swelling buds were bursting on the lime trees; the jackdaws, the sparrows and the pigeons were cheerfully getting their nests ready for the spring, and the flies, warmed by the sunshine, buzzed gaily along the walls. All were happy -- plants, birds, insects and children. But grown-up people -- adult men and women -- never left off cheating and tormenting themselves and one another. It was not this spring morning which they considered sacred and important, not the beauty of God's world, given to all creatures to enjoy -- a beauty which inclines the heart to peace, to harmony and to love. No, what they considered sacred and important were their own devices for wielding power over each other.”

I cannot now recall easily what book this quote is taken from but I do know I read the book in question.  And this quote has stayed with me ever since.  I have a sense that Tolstoy appreciated the amazing isness of all creation...and how self-absorbed human beings can be all the while the world about them is showing such splendor and magic.  I still see it every day.  Do you?

And this brings me to an even deeper question...a question that has been in my conscious awareness lately.  Do we humans as a species have the power to change our collective behavior?  I believe we do have that power.  The better question perhaps is this: Will we use our power in a constructive way?

I think the 21st century is probably going to prove to be the most transformational one the human race has ever experienced.  But in what direction will we proceed?  That is the question of the moment.

When I find myself in conflict with another person one technique I have occasionally attempted to employ is to actively see that person as the child of two people.  By this I do not mean I focus on a person as being 'childish'...even if their behavior would legitimately lead to that conclusion.  Rather I try to remind myself that we are all someone's son or daughter.  We were all children once.  We are all trying to make our way in this world.  Some days are easy.  Other days are not.  And on a fundamental level I do believe what we all want most is love devoid of conditions and demands.  We want to be loved for our fundamental dignity that we possess irregardless of who we are, what we do, where we live, who our friends are and so on.

I think love is the only real answer...to anything.



Wednesday, February 19, 2014

One of Those Difficult Questions

Wednesday, February 19, 2014


Since my unnecessarily stressful 'moving' experience on Monday I have been reflecting on what is the best way forward.  I still feel myself bristling a bit after being accused of threatening violence against someone I considered a friend and whose dogs I cared for over the course of two months.  And as I was saying to my friend Keith yesterday it feels a bit like a repeat of what happened to my father when I was a kid.  So it's only natural that I should feel challenged to not feel triggered by the events of Monday.

Yesterday I found myself contemplating the possibility of suing over the illegal eviction that took place.  As with any choice there are pros and cons to making such a choice.  But before I go any further towards actively imagining doing such a thing I plan to first consult with some people whose wisdom I believe could prove valuable.  One person I plan to speak with is Fr. John Bauer of the Basilica of St. Mary here in Minneapolis.  I first consulted with him last month to seek out the wisdom the Catholic Church can potentially offer in regards to issues I have long had with my paternal family of origin.  I hope he will make himself available to speak with me.  Anyone who lives here in the Twin Cities area and follows the news closely has likely heard that the local diocese has been in the news due to the unfortunate longstanding issue of clergy abuse.  The Catholic Church has plenty of its own PTSD to deal with.

I also thought of another person to consult with.  While living in Santa Cruz, California I took some classes in Aikido.  Linda Holiday is one of the foremost teachers of the Aikido of Santa Cruz dojo.  Many years ago she apprenticed in the art in Japan.  I first tried out Aikido because I was interested to take up a martial art that would not only allow me to express myself but also give me training to help me in the event I ever needed to defend myself.  I haven't taken any classes in two years now but some of the wisdom of this art remains with me even now.

I found Aikido especially appealing because the art focuses on teaching an individual skills that can help you to restore harmony both within yourself as well as in your relationship with the world at large. When another person or party directs aggression at you it is possible to respond in any number of ways.  My question, given what has unfolded in my life since my conscious healing process from PTSD began, is how can I respond when there seems to be a consistent pattern in which I keep meeting, befriending and allowing people into my life whom I later discover have serious issues.  Indeed, it's a consistent pattern that seems unbreakable despite my best efforts to break it.

I have thought of Aikido because I have wondered if the best way to deal with this pattern of continually bringing dysfunctional people into my life (despite thinking I have made a healthy choice in who I let in) is to do the equivalent of what a student of Aikido would do to respond when an 'aggressor'/'attacker' attempts to attack him on a street.  Rather than resist an attacker's energy it can be healthier to redirect the energy back at the person giving it.  But how does a person do that in a situation like what I recently found myself in with my now-former housemate?

Michelle made a false claim against me in front of law enforcement officers.  I think it only fair there be some sort of justice for her false witness.  How could I use the teachings of Aikido in this particular scenario?  Is there a way to do so?  I believe there is but I am a bit confused as to how to apply them.  I called the dojo in Santa Cruz, California and left a message for Linda Holiday in which I asked to speak with her about this issue.

There are moments when I have some very unhelpful thoughts that go through my mind.  Some of them reflect what I would say the 'shadow parent' would say, namely things like "You're how old and you're still having these kinds of problems?"  Such thoughts are not informed by a voice of compassion and kindness though.  It's an ongoing practice for me to learn to be gentle with myself.


In other news I found myself breathing something of a sigh of relief last night in response to the significantly milder weather.  For the first time in months I could walk around in the evening after sunset with my jacket unzipped, my scarf tucked away and my hands exposed to the air.  It was so nice to see people around me enjoying this reprieve from winter.  I felt as if my own body could expand a bit; there was no need to hunker down within my own skin to protect myself from biting winds.

We're supposedly going to have a snowstorm tomorrow.  In addition, some of the longer term weather models are hinting at a cold air outbreak next week that, though less severe than those of January, would be most impressive for the end of February.  I'm hoping it does not come to pass.  This has been one memorable winter...and for more than one reason.  I almost feel like I should make a t-shirt: "I survived the Minnesota winter of 2013-2014".







Tuesday, February 18, 2014

Another Challenge

Tuesday, February 18, 2014


So yesterday I managed to reclaim a majority of my possessions from my now-former housemate.  It was a weird experience.  I called the Minneapolis Police Department to request the police be present when I attempted to reclaim my possessions.  Upon their arrival I walked up the front sidewalk and knocked on the door.  Amazingly enough Michelle was home.  And one of the first statements out of her mouth was a lie.

It's a bit creepy but in some way it does feel like my life journey is mirroring that of my father's during the time I was growing up at home.  As I believe I noted in posts from last year, my stepmother was never prosecuted for her attempted murder of my father in part because she told the police my dad had been throwing knives at her.  To my knowledge it was a lie.  And people will lie as a means of covering up their own less than ethical behavior.  I've tried to rise above the legacy of my father's own poor life choices and behavior.  And I essentially have.  But yesterday was a stark reminder that I can control little in the world beyond my own immediate life.  People will do all sorts of things to avoid taking responsibility for their own part in unfortunate misunderstandings and endings of relationships.

This current needless debacle has been yet another challenging speed-bump in my recovery process.  I am grateful simply that none of my personal belongings were destroyed or damaged.  I had my parents' wedding album in Michelle's home.  This is irreplaceable.  I am happy I was able to retrieve it in the same condition as it was the last time I saw it.

I have also given up another friendship as a means of separating myself from the unfortunate messy scenario that evolved in the last week.  This is painful for me.  I have walked away from this friendship because the person in question was a mutual friend to me and Michelle.  Given Michelle's apparent capacity for telling lies I don't want to be around people who consider her a friend.


I have to admit that it is very strange to me that the same issues keep playing out.  I don't understand what I can do differently to prevent a repeat of this unfortunate experience of needless eviction.  Thankfully I have some good, loyal friends who are assisting me in what ways they can.

I now have no unemployment benefits, no paying work, no stable home and essentially almost no money at the moment.  I'm apparently back to square one.  But I won't give up on myself.  I have fought too hard and long.  And despite these apparent horrible circumstances my health is nonetheless the best it has ever been.  And I have this outlet to share my story and find some relief from stress.  Onward and upward I say.




Monday, February 17, 2014

Our Weather Whack Job

Monday, February 17, 2014


It's snowing again this morning here in the Twin Cities.  This is not that surprising.  It's February after all.  We've had over forty mornings when the low temperature was below 0F; that is surprising.  A local news story yesterday noted that Duluth, Minnesota has now had sixty (!) mornings below 0F this winter.  This is so surprising as to be record breaking.

The weather across the world has run amok.  New Orleans had an ice storm.  Brownsville, Texas, on the Mexican border,  had a night of freezing rain in late January.  Roses are blooming in Germany in February.  Parts of Great Britain have been flooding due to persistent rain.  Meanwhile, in California, people might literally soon be tempted to start doing rain dances.  I looked at an article on Slate and learned some frightening statistics: the entire United States West Coast (yes all the way from San Diego, California to the Canadian border) would need anywhere from eighteen to THIRTY-SIX INCHES of rain to emerge from drought.  Thirty-six inches of rain is equivalent to three feet of rain...also known as waist deep for people approximately six feet tall.  That is an incredible volume of water.

Alaska has essentially had no winter.  This far northern region famed for its bitter winters has been a virtual getaway for warmth according to its own standards.  Parts of the state have had 60F weather...in winter!  Meanwhile Miami, Florida had at least one morning this winter when the wind chill was near freezing.

This winter has indeed been memorable.  When forest fires are scorching California in January you know that something is seriously weird.  I shudder to think how much of the state of California's forests may burn to the ground before the next rainy season of 2014-2015.  What if there is again no rainy season?  The state of California is an economic powerhouse.  The diversity of economic sectors, technological innovation and diverse variety of natural landscapes (from the deserts of the Palm Springs area to the mighty redwoods of Humboldt and Del Norte counties) make California an amazing place to visit, work and live.  But I'm starting to get the impression that the amount of human development there is soon going to seem a bit excessive.  Indeed, if the current drought lasts for another year or more the disruption to the local and global economy could prove quite severe.

And yet despite our notably weird weather (many of the hottest years of the last century have occurred in the last ten years...just google the term "ten hottest years on record") the denial of humanity's contribution to climate change goes on and on.  I read that President Obama is apparently going to be going to California and proposing some sort of climate resilience fund.  Here's another thought: If we want to have a resilient climate in the long term (ie beyond that of our own lives and children's lives) we would be wise to stop loading the atmosphere with greenhouse gases at a rate that is geologically unprecedented.  I think an important part of this phenomenon of climate change and the role we humans are playing in it is the distorted thinking process many people are using when they consider the issue.  We are changing the fundamental cycles of the very planet on a time scale not commensurate with the timelines they typically unfold in.  In a mere century we have released so much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere that its release dwarfs the changes that previously would typically unfold over many, many millennia.  Read that statement again and try to comprehend what I am saying if you cannot.  What we are doing is unprecedented.

So why am I writing about climate change in a blog focused on PTSD?  Because our continual journey down this road of overloading the atmosphere with greenhouse gases and thereby changing the planet's atmospheric chemistry in a 'geologic second' could very likely result in such disruption to our global economy and lives that humanity as a whole might experience a collective version of PTSD.  Do I sound hyperbolic?  Maybe I do.  But if you are reading this and skeptical you would be wise to first do some serious reading on the subject.

I don't lie awake at night having horrible nightmares about what the world of 2050 may be like but I do wonder nonetheless enough about it.  We as a species need to awaken to the impact we are having on our world at large.  I remember reading an article in the Economist a few years ago in which the current time period had been named the Anthropocene.  The term is basically a nod to the immense power that the human species now possesses to reshape the very planet itself.  Not until the last century did we possess such technological power.  Now we do.  And I'm not convinced we are very ready for it.  Are we drifting towards a preventable self-immolation?  I wonder.  I wonder often.

None of us will get out of this life alive.  So why can't we as a species stop hating and killing one another?  We are greater when we love and support one another as compared to destroying and undermining one another.  What happens to 'others' effectively impacts us...in ways great and small.

If you are feeling stressed out...or even more stressed out by reading this...consider looking at this resource.

Be well. Live well.  Sleep well. Dream well.




Sunday, February 16, 2014

Contagion

Sunday, February 16, 2014


Today has been an unusually eventful day in terms of my own insights into my psyche.

I attended my MCC congregation Sunday service this morning.  Our pastor is currently away at a conference.  So a different pastor presided.  He used the experience of cracked hands (due to the bitter winter cold common to Minnesota) to speak about the wounds we carry in our hurts.  Nobody on the planet will live a life without experiencing some amount of suffering.  At one point the sermon sounded as if it derived from a quote that is falsely attributed to Buddhism: "Pain is inevitable but suffering is optional."

According to fakebuddhaquotes.com (yes there really is such a website) the wisdom contained in the Sallatha Sutta is perhaps most relevant to this idea.  Here follows a part of that sutta relevant to the relationship we can cultivate with pain:

“When touched with a feeling of pain, the uninstructed run-of-the-mill person sorrows, grieves, & laments, beats his breast, becomes distraught. So he feels two pains, physical & mental. Just as if they were to shoot a man with an arrow and, right afterward, were to shoot him with another one, so that he would feel the pains of two arrows; in the same way, when touched with a feeling of pain, the uninstructed run-of-the-mill person sorrows, grieves, & laments, beats his breast, becomes distraught. So he feels two pains, physical & mental.”


It would appear a healthy way to relate to pain is to not be an 'uninstructed run-of-the-mill person'.  As with many challenges in life, instruction (read here also education, knowledge and the like) can be a key to relieving our suffering.  Put yet another way it is wise to learn to 'know thyself'.

Knowing what can be personal triggers for you is very important to living a healthy life.  And this is true regardless of whether you are in an active recovery process or already healthy and doing what you can to stay that way.  I was reminded of the importance of knowing myself yet again during the service this morning.


A group of people came into the church and sat in the pew just in front of mine.  And immediately I could smell the odor of cigarette smoke on at least one person's clothes.  And almost as immediately I could feel a sense of revulsion rising in my stomach.  I don't dislike smokers; I dislike the behavior of smokers.  I believe it is important to maintain a distinction between the fundamental dignity of human beings and the fundamentally less than optimal behaviors some people engage in that may annoy others.

I'm certainly not a person who has any just cause to judge either.  For example, I enjoy kink.  Kink, the leather community and the like are often misunderstood by the uninitiated.  And this is completely understandable when you are only looking from the outside in.  As my blog continues to evolve it seems almost a guarantee I will reference this part of my life more and more.  I am gradually moving from working through the trauma that is unique to my life history to other issues of trauma that have been the experience of many people.  More on that later.

The smell of cigarette smoke also caused my mind to spin off a bit into some much more ancient memories from my childhood.  I recalled how I would try to hide the cigarettes that one of my aunts would smoke.  It caused me anxiety to watch my aunt smoke.  I was a precocious child and knew at an early age that smoking was not a healthy habit.  So I tried to be a protective child and keep my aunt from smoking.  Obviously it was futile to hide her cigarettes because she could simply go buy more of them or smoke when I wasn't around.

So I saw how the smell of smoke on this February morning in 2014 somehow caused me to remember the persistent feelings of anxiety, helplessness and frustration I felt much of the time I was growing up over thirty years ago.  It was painful for me to be around as much illness as I was around as a kid.  Exposure to such suffering is challenging enough to deal with as an adult.  Being a kid in the midst of it was even more difficult.

I felt grateful at the end of the service that we had the pastor who presided today.  At first I wasn't enamored with the idea of a 'substitute'.  I've had so much change in my life lately that another surprise wasn't much to my taste.  But ultimately such a surprise might benefit me more in the long run than I may now know.  I've learned throughout the years that openness to the new is such a vital capacity to cultivate if you wish to live a healthy and rewarding life.

I titled this entry 'Contagion' because it's a very human response to fear that which we perceive to be sick, alien, warped, dark or of 'the Other'.  And yet we can miss out on so much of the world when we allow our prejudices to blind us.





Saturday, February 15, 2014

The Importance of Laughter

Saturday, February 15, 2014


It wasn't until late in the day yesterday that I realized it was my first Valentine's Day without the silent burden of a clinical case of PTSD.  It can take a while for the shock of troubling events to fade away.  Though my shock regarding my diagnosis itself disappeared months ago the process of becoming familiar with who I am and can be as a 'non-anxious person' appears to be one that will unfold over quite a length of time.  As I have alluded to many times previously now here in this blog I often ask myself the question: 'How long will it take me to become accustomed to not being anxious when I had an anxiety disorder for over three decades?'  It's a true journey of discovery I am on.

I was wise to occupy my full day yesterday so I wouldn't allow myself much time to ruminate on how much more love I would like to have in my life compared to what I already have.  But I do have a lot of love in my life already...and it's important for me to remember that.  It is important for all of us to remember and focus on what we have that is good and healthy rather than what is not.  I have made some amazing friends.  I am grateful for each and every one of them.  I wish I felt close to my paternal family of origin...but I do not.  And that might never change.  Again, I have to seek out love where I can find it and rejoice in what is available to me.  Gratitude is a most healthy attitude to cultivate.

Last night I played a game called Cards Against Humanity with some good friends.  For those not in the know, Cards Against Humanity (CAH) is a game billed as "A party game for horrible people".  To say that there is a perverse undercurrent to the game would be a bit of an understatement!  It was an excellent way for all of us who are single to have fun and not think about all the lovely couples out there who are celebrating the bliss of love they ideally are experiencing on the other 364 days of the year.  I always laugh when I play CAH; it's another great outlet for me as I continue to heal.

Last year I read a book written by Dr. Henry Emmons, M.D.  Dr. Emmons is a holistic psychiatrist who recently was a part of the Penny George Institute for Health and Healing here in Minneapolis.  I met Dr. Emmons last summer when I first had learned about the Institute.  He wrote a great book entitled The Chemistry of Joy that bridges the all too persistent divide between what I would call mainstream psychiatry and the many diverse alternative methods of medicine such as acupuncture, mindfulness meditation and the like.  I recall learning more about the type of person I am by using his book.  And one important take-away I found is that laughter is an especially important type of 'medicine' for me.  I would wager that laughter is good medicine for anyone.


A helpful way to do an inventory of one's health and resources is to think of the different spheres of your life (home, family of origin, profession, friends, etc) and then assess them by considering where you have surpluses and deficits in relevant skill sets.  For example, I realize that I had a significant deficit in laughter and light-hearted fun when I was a kid.  I can heal more effectively and quickly if I recognize this deficit and take action now to address the issue.  So now I am learning to laugh again.
Have you ever done such an inventory in your own life?  Consider doing one.  It might help you attain a degree of clarity that will facilitate your own healing process.

I felt lonely much of the time I was growing up as well.  I didn't have any siblings until my younger half-brother was born at the time I was the not infrequently volatile age of thirteen.  I couldn't really play with my brother because we were always in two vastly different developmental phases.  I have a number of cousins in my paternal family whom I was able to play with some while growing up.  That was a good outlet for me.  I nonetheless began to imitate an overly responsible adult when I was a mere child.  A lost or seriously delayed childhood can prove to be an immense challenge to address later in life.  I know that I am dealing with that now.

Today I intend to 'feed the boy' some more by attending some events being held in association with Mr. Twin Cities Leather weekend here in Minneapolis.  I am giving myself the permission and joy to explore my interest in this community of men and women.  My desire to engage in such exploration was another unattended desire I am now finally acknowledging in a much healthier way.  As I do so I find myself moving in the direction of expressing my authentic self.


The days continue to grow significantly longer now.  Some days I have to remind myself of these little incremental steps towards 'The Big Thaw' (also known as Spring) as a means of motivating myself to continue stepping out into the world.  March is only two weeks away.  March isn't really a Spring month here in Minnesota...at least not by standards in most parts of the United States.  I consider March more to be The Death of Winter.

I am so grateful for all the friends I have who are helping me through this ongoing period of transformation.  Cheers!






Friday, February 14, 2014

Reality Check Please

Friday, February 14, 2014


I visited with my primary care physician this morning.  I am happy to report that I am in generally good health...aside from the minor cold I currently have.  I received a chiropractic treatment as well as an acupuncture treatment yesterday.  I sought out more care than I was originally planning to this week due to some unexpected stressful developments that took place on Wednesday.

In the very near future I will be taking a brief pause from blog writing so I can focus on the job I expect I will be taking next week.  It cannot come a moment too soon.  My unemployment benefits expired last week.  I have been emotionally ready to go back to work for some time now.  It's good for me to build work back into my life.  Being without meaningful work can start to become depressing.

I had an unexpected reminder of the wondrous beauty of what I do have in my life when I was on the bus this afternoon.  A man was speaking about the plight of the average person in Afghanistan.  Given his appearance I highly doubt he had any close relatives in Afghanistan (the man was African American).  Perhaps he had a nephew in the Army go there.  I don't know.  He was chatting with the bus driver about the basic survival/subsistence nature of life for many people in Afghanistan.  I was reminded of this reality when I did some research on Afghanistan for some papers I wrote while attending school in California.  The man's most memorable statement was something about walking five miles just for a dirty glass.  Indeed.  Donald Rumsfeld once remarked that Afghanistan is 'not a target rich environment'.  It certainly is not.  Decades of conflict as well as corruption have rendered the state a shadow of its true potential.

It's only two weeks until the beginning of March now.  I am excited by the gradual climb of the sun in the sky.  There are moments when I am inside vehicles that the warmth of the sun feels positively glorious.  Spring is coming...and it's not too far away now.




Thursday, February 13, 2014

How Does One Become Homeless?

Thursday, February 13, 2014


Yesterday evolved in a way I did not foresee.  Due to a mistake I made I have been effectively evicted from my home.  This is the second time this has happened in the last three months.  Sometimes I feel like I am stuck in some sort of sick game show in which the rug keeps getting pulled out from underneath me the moment I start to fully relax and breathe deeply.

Other events occurred yesterday which compounded my upset.  I learned a woman I was looking forward to meeting today was in a serious accident.  Her husband replied to my email when I wrote to confirm our plan to meet today.  This is not the first time someone has disappeared from my life whom I was looking forward to seeing.  Indeed, I already feel I have had more than my fair share of those sorts of sudden losses.  But then again that is only my opinion.  Perhaps there is some reason for such incidents whose contest is impossible for me to discern.  I don't know.  I just would like the pain to stop.  But the only sure way to never feel pain is to never be alive.  And I won't contemplate that as an option.

So I find myself once again without a permanent home.  It is unsettling to say the least.  I recently read some essays from a book entitled Leather Folk.  These essays as well as the breadth of my life experience have helped me to develop what I believe is some significant insight into the phenomenon of homelessness.  Simply put, I believe one important factor in homelessness is the despair that can grow when a person becomes so disenchanted by the meanness and cold edge of human society as we currently live it that he decides it would be better to live under a bridge.  Such an explanation might sound unconvincing but I cannot help but think of one type of population group in particular that I believe feels this way.  I am talking about veterans of war.

Being in a war zone is inherently disconcerting...to put it lightly.  To risk your life for an ideal espoused by your nation is no small commitment.  And surviving such experience is also no small thing.  I think seeing death and destruction ever day must make it difficult for returning veterans to witness the most venal of human behavior.  And my venal I mean to describe the most petty of human behavior.  You have probably witnessed such behavior.  Venality transcends all types of people.  Pettiness is on display when people look for the smallest of things to complain about.  Pettiness is begrudging a person the shower he took because he left the towel on the floor.  Pettiness is withholding food from the hungry when they cannot afford to pay for their own food.  Pettiness is insulting people who have been much less fortunate than you.  Pettiness is made visible when compassion, kindness, tenderness and the like are absent or very sorely lacking.

Some people endure such horrific pain in their lives that disconnecting from the human species at large just makes sense.  When you have been disappointed again and again and again and again and again it's only natural that you might start to jealously guard your heart.  Human beings can only take so much pain before the pain begins to result in serious illness.  Excessive sleep deprivation can lead to psychosis.  A unhealed broken heart can lay the foundation for bitterness, obsessive rumination and cynicism.  We are all members of a human family.  But when we lose that sense of true belonging we will find ourselves at risk of illness or worse.


Wednesday, February 12, 2014

Silence = Death

Wednesday, February 12, 2014


I was thankfully much too young to get caught up in the AIDS epidemic at a time when so little was understood about HIV.  In the early 1980s, when I was still not even ten years old, I was going through my own trauma in my paternal family of origin.  On June 5, 1981 the Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report carried a story of five formerly healthy gay men living in the Los Angeles area who were all suffering from a rare lung infection.  Two had already died by the time the report was published.  This particular issue of the MMWR marked the first official report of what would later become the AIDS epidemic.

I can still vaguely recall the first time I heard about AIDS on television.  I remember watching a story on CBS News about it; the growing epidemic was being associated with the gay community in San Francisco.  I was already dimly aware of my own homosexual feelings even though I wasn't mature enough to name them as such.  Hearing about the spread of this horrible epidemic made it easy for me to repress my awareness of this aspect of my identity.  I already had enough to deal with just growing up in my family of origin.

These days certain people who align themselves with the political Right seem to think of Ronald Reagan as some gold standard by which conservatives can measure themselves today over thirty years later.  Once again American historical amnesia is at work.  Do you know offhand how much time passed after June 5, 1981 before President Ronald Reagan publicly acknowledged AIDS?  It's not necessarily a question we get asked every day.  It wasn't until September 17, 1986, over five years later, that Reagan acknowledged AIDS in communicating his intention to Congress to make the issue of AIDS a priority.  A little more than a year after that the World Health Organization declared December 1, 1988 the first World AIDS Day.  I have lost friends to AIDS despite the fact that the epidemic largely wiped out men some ten to twenty-five years older than me.  To learn more about the historical evolution of this epidemic check out this site.

As often happens with any public health crisis there were a number of slogans created to facilitate a concerted response to the epidemic.  There is one I still remember easily now: Silence = Death.  Willful silence is part of what proved lethal for some of those people who were the first to die of AIDS.  Government inaction and public apathy combined with a large dose of homophobia and paranoia were the lethal factors that allowed the epidemic to gain such a footing in the United States.  When you look through the broad sweep of history you can appreciate the lethal power of silence or being silenced as a means of oppressing those who experience injustice.


I have been thinking quite a bit about the slogan of "Silence = Death" recently.  Silence wasn't just lethal in the case of AIDS.  Silence and secret-keeping are also quite harmful to healthy relationships.  I appreciate that given my own history.  It is this proclivity to silence that is a major reason why I have walked away from active participation within my paternal family of origin.  I also appreciate the unfortunate consequences of being tight-lipped or stoic because I recently read a letter my uncle Bernhard wrote to my father in December of 1979.  I can see the subtext of how men are raised (namely in such a way that they cannot easily speak of their feelings and fears) when I read through that letter.  It pained me to read it.  I appreciated yet again how I am bucking the normative behavior of generations of my family...both on my father's side as well as my mother's side.  When people compliment me on my articulate nature one response I occasionally make is to point out that being articulate is vital to your own survival.  It isn't a coincidence I have made it this far.

Reading through this letter prompted the following thoughts:

  • I have a bit of a feeling that history is repeating itself...or could easily do so.  My uncle wrote to my father about how my grandfather was difficult to communicate with regarding my mother's health: 'Papa does not want to talk about it.'  This is not surprising.  In a similar way my father did not want to talk last summer when I attempted to confront him with my own health issues.  Why o why do we repeat the same behaviors over and over again long after it's clear that those behaviors are not serving our health or future? This is not a rhetorical question.  And I have my own thoughts as to why we do this.
  • My mother certainly did not forget me after she returned to Germany.  The letter notes how she inquired about my welfare.  She wanted to know how I was and when I would see her again.  I can tell she was in a lot of pain.  I was as well.
  • The solution to my mother's illness was not clear.  My uncle noted how the different health care professionals had different opinions regarding what treatment to offer my mother.  This is not uncommon.  I have dealt with the same challenge of discerning what is the best course of action to take.
  • Resource allocation sometimes proves to be an unfortunate impediment to getting good care.  Put another way: Cities and larger communities tend to have greater availability of care.  My mother could not get the type of care she needed because her small hometown in northwest Germany did not feature any practitioners with the specialization that she needed.  How many people suffer out there not because they do not want to seek out care but because there is no access where they are?
  • Work seems to be a popular way of avoiding difficult feelings.  It appears my grandfather was doing that.  And at the end of the letter my uncle encourages my father not to work so much either.  History repeating itself it seems.

Reading through this letter I cannot help but feel such a deep sadness due to the loss and pain so many people in my family were in.  It was a difficult situation in so many respects.

I concluded years ago that the macho-man way of living (ie being stoic and holding your feelings in) does not serve me and does not serve many men.  I believe there is a better way.  A vital part of my recovery process is recognizing this reality and moving forward in a different direction...regardless of how difficult that may be.




Tuesday, February 11, 2014

When "Winning" Feels Like Losing. The Unfortunate Scenario of Bruised Egos

Tuesday, February 11, 2014


Have you ever had the experience of "winning" in a conflict of personalities with another individual only to later feel like your "win" came at a great cost and caused more harm than good? I've been reflecting on this quandry a bit lately.

When I first was unexpectedly diagnosed last summer I was quite upset. In fact, I was very angry. I was angry that all the past work I had done in therapy had apparently not been completely successful. Though the talk therapy I had done had been of benefit it had never addressed the imprint of the trauma in my personal history and how it had specifically affected my brain and my perceptions of myself and the world. Thankfully EMDR therapy helped me to achieve the healing that had previously eluded me.

In the late summer and autumn of last year it felt as if I was in the fight of my life. I felt very hurt and disrespected by a number of people as well as one particular organization (the Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus) I had thought would infuse my life with light-hearted fun. Instead it seemed I was always finding myself unconsciously picking fights. And while my reasons for feeling hurt were certainly legitimate (the people involved had indeed been disrespectful, rude and/or lacking in compassion) that fact alone didn't change the reality that the whole scenario I was caught in was most unfortunate and painful. I don't believe anyone who got caught in the unfortunate stream of events "won" in any real way. And this is why a red flag rose in my mind when I read the following from one of my favorite websites I use to follow the world of astrology:

Let yourself be provoked as little as possible during this time, whether in traffic, sport or other "competition", because even if you do not suffer any defeat it may be that your victory is in some way painful. On the other hand, you should not dodge a psychological challenge, particularly if it is connected with a situation which is so uncomfortable for you that you would normally rather avoid it. If you want to give someone "a piece of your mind" or bring up uncomfortable topics, you will be supported by this influence. In any case you should not assume that you yourself will get off scot-free: if you launch into others now you will certainly receive a few painful home truths in return - but it is just this that could prove most valuable for you.

The above is the description for yet another fun transit I am dealing with through early summer of 2014. Fighting for the sake of fighting is not a very desirable experience if people get hurt in the process. And yet, as is noted above, dodging a challenge is also not always a wise choice. Avoiding conflict ultimately seems to serve nobody either. It can be a challenge to walk that fine middle line but it's necessary if you, I or anybody else wants to achieve balance in a consistent way in life.

I recently did what is described above. I gave several people within my family 'a piece of my mind' and brought up some very discomfiting topics. Avoidance of painful topics is not a way to heal the issues at the root of said pain. I don't know what will come of my actions; I have had no reply to my communications and do not expect to receive anything substantive any time in the near future...if ever.

Something I would like to create in my life is relationships with people who are mature such that constructive criticism is received in a positive way rather than as some sort of personal attack. I have grown weary of walking in a realm of weak egos.

I may sound a bit cranky today. I suppose I am. I'm just feeling a bit weary of winter as well as fatigued by the demands of my recovery. I'd like to see the world outside my windows begin showing the beauty of the awakening of Spring. I have felt very awake(ned) now for months while the world outside has been silent in its winter hibernation. I am feeling very ready for this jarring contrast to end.  I want the world outside of me to mirror my interior world.




Monday, February 10, 2014

Mato Tipila

Monday, February 10, 2014


In the spring of 1997 I spent nearly four months living and working on the Rosebud Lakota Sioux Native American reservation.  I was sent there by the New England Province of the Society of Jesus.  During my adventure (this is how I look back on it now in hindsight) I had the privilege of being to travel to some nearby popular destinations.  I visited Yellowstone National Park in May of that year.  It was interesting to see Yellowstone Lake still thawing out in May!  Prior to that I visited Mato Tipila, more commonly known as Devil's Tower.

Devil's Tower was so named due to a mis-interpretation of Colonel Richard Irving Dodge's accounting of his expedition to the site.  Located in Wyoming Devil's Tower is a prominent geological feature that inspires wonder and an enthusiasm for climbing.  The Lakota people call this site Mato Tipila...also known in English as Bear Lodge.  More information about this site sacred to the Lakota people can be found on the Sylvan Rocks Climbing School and Guide Service webpage located here.

Below is a recounting of the legend of how Devil's Tower came to be:


Long ago, two young Indian boys found themselves lost on the great prairie. They had played together one afternoon and had wandered far out of the village. Then they had shot their bows still farther out into the sagebrush. Then they had heard a small animal make a noise and had gone to investigate. They had come to a stream with many colorful pebbles and followed that for a while. They had come to a hill and wanted to see what was on the other side. On the other side they saw a herd of antelope and, of course, had to track them for a while. When they got hungry and thought it was time to go home, the two boys found that they didn't know where they were. They started off in the direction where they thought their village was, but only got farther and farther away from it. At last they curled up beneath a tree and went to sleep.


They got up the next morning and walked some more, still traveling the wrong way. They ate some wild berries and dug up wild turnips, found some chokecherries, and drank water from streams. For three days they walked toward the west. They were footsore, but they survived. How they wished that their parents, or elder brothers and sisters or tribe members would find them as they walked on what is now the plains of Wyoming. But nobody did.



On the fourth day the boys suddenly had a feeling that they were being followed. They looked around and in the distance saw Mato, the bear. This was no ordinary bear, but a giant bear, so huge that the boys would make only a small mouthful for him.   He had smelled the boys and came in search of that mouthful. He came so close that the earth trembled with each step he took.
 The boys started running, looking for a place to hide, they found none.  The grizzly was much, much faster than they. They stumbled, and the bear was almost upon them. They could see his red, wide-open jaws full of enormous teeth. They could smell his hot breath.
 The boys were old enough to have learned to pray, and the called upon Wakan Tanka, the Creator: "Tunkashila, Grandfather, have pity, save us." 



All at once the earth shook and began to rise. The boys rose with it. Out of the earth came a cone of rock going up, up, up until it rose more than a thousand feet high. And the boys were on top of it.
 Mato the bear was disappointed to see his meal disappearing into the clouds. This grizzly was so huge that he could almost reach to the top of the rock when he stood on his hind legs. Almost, but not quite. His claws were as large as a tipi's lodge poles. Frantically Mato dug his claws into the side of the rock, trying to get up, trying to eat those boys. As he did so, he made big scratches in the sides of the towering rock. He tried every spot, every side. He scratched up the rock all around, but it was no use. The boys watched him wearing himself out, getting tired, giving up. They finally saw him going away, a huge, growling, grunting mountain disappearing over the horizon.
 The boys were saved by Wanblee, the eagle, who has always been a friend to our people. It was the great eagle that let the boys grab hold of him and carried them safely back to their village.


I can easily recall the beauty of this place and the awe I felt when I gazed at it in person. The bright spring sunshine cast sharp lines of shadow and light upon its contours.  It was amazing to behold.

I've been thinking of the bear lodge lately because I've been noticing a growing desire to hibernate like a bear would.  Yes indeed, winter is starting to wear on me.  Some days it's the cold that irks me.  Other days it's the still prevalent darkness.  But underlying those realities is the more significant reality of the apparent death of the natural world outside.  Intellectually I known the hibernation must one day end as the sun's power grows stronger each day.  But that intellectual knowledge doesn't necessarily easily translate to a warm and sure feeling in the heart.  At least the evenings are now starting to be brighter; I can go dog-walking at 5 pm with sunlight still filling the sky.

Today is the last time my friend Arlene will be driving me to my therapy appointment.  It also will hopefully be the last Monday I am not more substantially employed.  I feel ready to begin doing something new.  I've been on the road to recovery for what lately has felt like a very long time.  I want and need a new lease on life.  I declare that it is time for it to be so.

Yesterday was somewhat difficult for me.  The sadness I felt on Saturday in the time immediately following my Listening course stayed with me.  Though I put it out of my mind when I later went to what turned out to be a very fun party it was back in the forefront of my awareness when I woke up Sunday morning.

When I awoke this morning I felt better than I did yesterday.  I am grateful for that.  I plan to go to the gym later today to continue my dedication to rigorous exercise.




Sunday, February 9, 2014

Cleansing the Wound Out

Sunday, February 9, 2014


Yesterday evening I found myself feeling unexpectedly overwhelmed by a sadness borne of the grief I have carried due to feeling not completely seen and heard throughout so much of my childhood.  Yes, I have spoken of this grief before and yes I am attending to it in the best way I possibly can but there are nonetheless moments, sometimes expected and sometimes unexpected, in which I feel myself virtually drowning in sadness.  I haven't been depressed in six months now...and I expect I won't find myself in the state I was in last summer again.  I have made amazing progress.

As I prepared to leave the Basilica of St. Mary late yesterday afternoon I paused to make a silent prayer in the church.  It's not altogether unusual for me to be prayerful but it is a bit weird for me to be allowing the Catholic Church to influence my life again.  I have no intention of becoming a practicing Catholic again at any point but I suppose I am more open hearted compared to a few years ago.

I made my prayer at an alcove.  I simply asked for some guidance and assistance in dealing with my sadness.  I noticed one wall had the names and years of life of several people.  I assume they made some significant contribution to the church and were thus memorialized in this way.  I noticed one person was born the same year I was.  And he died in 1991.  I graduated from high school in 1991.  A short time later as I was riding the bus I thought of this person who died at that tender age when boys technically become men...or at least old enough to go off to college.  He never experienced adulthood.  I have.  And despite the pain and disappointment I have experienced I have still enjoyed a very full life.  I simply need to work through what remains of my grief and disappointment so I can start to build something new.

I feel better today.  It's vital for me to take a break on occasion and not be "on" virtually all the time.  Healing is a process but it's also healthy to do things completely unfocused on my healing so that I don't make my whole life be about my healing.

I have an interview tomorrow for a possible contract position with the Allina system here in Minneapolis.  I am looking forward to the possibilities that might open to me.


Saturday, February 8, 2014

The Tender Terrain of a Wound

Saturday, February 8, 2014


I just completed my full day of Listening training at the Basilica of St. Mary.  I feel a bit more tired than I expected to.  Being an attentive listener is not always an easy activity to engage in.  I was aware that this class might bring up some of the pain in my own personal history...and it certainly did that.

Described in yet another way the principle issue I have had with my paternal family of origin is feeling that I was never fully seen or appreciated...not just for who I am as an adult but also for the pain I experienced growing up in a household impacted so deeply by mental illness and violence.  The sadness and grief I have carried are continuing to heal as I do therapy.  But I would be lying if I claimed there was none left within me...old grief or otherwise.  In focusing on the topic of attentive listening I could not help but remember how I felt unseen and not fully heard throughout so much of my childhood.  It was deeply painful.  And as I have mentioned in earlier entries in my blog that pain was so severe that I began to unconsciously dissociate as a means of coping.  I finally do not do that now.  Now I am dealing with the grief I feel as I have come into a fuller awareness of how I was perceiving the world with a dulled awareness for so many, many years.

It's still winter outside.  I feel eager for Spring and the beginning of new life.  Who knows when that will begin.  I continue to practice that discipline known as patience.  I do my best to focus on what I can change and pay as little attention as possible to what is beyond my control.  The only person I can truly change is me.

Despite my current slight fatigue I feel grateful for the opportunity to engage in this training.  I found the leadership team professional, insightful and fun to interact with.  I am confident I will have a good experience in the remaining trainings.

I am ready to throw off my serious focus and go have some fun tonight.  And I have made some fun plans!


Jesus the Trickster

Saturday, February 8, 2014


This past weekend Pastor DeWayne Davis of All God's Children Metropolitan Community Church here in Minneapolis presented a sermon in which he focused on the topic of how people think of Jesus.  He specifically drew a parallel between the hero of the Lord of the Rings (namely a hobbit...someone perceived to be 'less than', 'weak', etc) and Jesus (someone also perceived to be and treated as 'less than', 'weak', etc).  He alluded to discussions he has had with other ministers about what kind of Jesus they believe people 'need'.  Based on what Pastor Davis said it appears the yearning of many Americans for macho-man masculinity is still alive and well.  Plenty of people seem to believe Jesus should be presented in a masculine and strong way; a loving, compassionate and/or forgiving Jesus is somehow perceived as too feminine and passive.  Such qualities appear not to be in keeping with macho conceptions of what it means to be a man that prevail in American culture today.  Yes indeed, we have a long way to go.  Distorted conceptions of masculinity still reign in many people's hearts and minds.

Archetypes fascinate me.  I have realized in the last few years, and most especially since I began this blog and began to reassess the future direction of my life, that archetypes are something I want to better understand.  Though my academic training did not have a strong emphasis in psychology I have nonetheless picked up some meaningful knowledge through my studies in other disciplines including mythology, anthropology, philosophy and theology.  Our world is replete with archetypes.  Some particularly evocative archetypes or personality types may include the following: warriors, teachers, heroes, kings, servants and lawyers.

In exploring archetypes we can find meaningful ways to better understand ourselves, other people and those complex and ever evolving realities of daily life, culture and so forth.  Gender and culturally produced and perpetuated conceptions of what it means to be a man or woman are one realm in which we can see hints of deeper archetypes whose origins may date back centuries or even millennia.

Given that my personal development was significantly influenced by being raised within the Catholic Church I can say that my understanding of who Jesus is reputed to be often caused me some amount of confusion and even discomfort.  It's not that I thought that any of Jesus' behavior was uncalled for, excessive or morally wrong.  Instead I often found myself feeling a bit unable to imagine Jesus as both fully man and fully God.  If he was as human as any of us wouldn't that mean that we could identify within him all the qualities, both good and bad, that we observe in humanity at large?  Wouldn't anything we feel within our own hearts be something we could imagine Jesus himself experienced?  And wouldn't any archetype we believe in be something we could imagine Jesus could potentially embody?

I myself do not feel I need a more 'masculine' Jesus than the one that was presented to me.  In fact my greatest hangup had nothing to do with how we imagine masculinity and femininity.  Instead, I struggled more because Jesus was never really rendered as a trickster.  I find the trickster archetype fascinating.  And I have come to believe that if everything we observe in the Cosmos is truly an expression of some deity (who many understand and name as God) then it follows that Jesus is most certainly a trickster...among many other archetypes.

Yet I have rarely heard Jesus described in such a way.  Have you ever heard Jesus described as a trickster?  If so, what was the context?  Some might perceive calling Jesus a trickster as an insult meant to denigrate who they believe he is.  Others might find such a portrayal to be without merit based on the stories of Jesus' life they have heard.

I still can vividly remember the first time my experience of Jesus began to seriously conflict with what I had been taught to believe about him.  I was twenty-three years old at the time and doing a thirty-day silent retreat in Gloucester, Massachusetts.  I was undertaking this retreat as part of my training as a novice member of the Society of Jesus (also known as the Jesuits).  The thirty-day retreat was created by the founder of the Jesuits, St. Ignatius of Loyola.  Ignatius experienced a profound transformation in the course of his life after a cannonball unexpectedly injured him and cast him out of his formerly familiar life in which his primary fascination was being a knight in 16th century Spain.  Ignatius melded the warrior/knight archetype and his appreciation for the glory of royalty with his Catholicism to form a religious order unlike any other.

A follow up to this posting was written later in the year.  Look for that posting on Easter Sunday, April 20, 2014.







Friday, February 7, 2014

My Final "Free" Friday?

Friday, February 7, 2014



Yesterday was a day full of positive developments.  I have a promising job prospect that I hope to interview for next week.  I might be working again as soon as next Wednesday.  And the opportunity could be a foot in the door that could ultimately lead to the career path that I would now prefer to be journeying down.  Life is good!

I also followed up with a contact I have at the south Minneapolis Workforce Center.  I spoke to her about my blog and even offered to give a presentation regarding mental health and employment.  It was gratifying to be able to check back in with someone I met months ago and share how much progress I have made.

I also met with my chiropractor for the final 'regularly scheduled' appointment.  I now have been released from ongoing care and will go in on an as needed basis.  All the exercise I engaged in to strengthen my core has provided me a great return in the improvement of my health.  I have worked hard and now the benefits are finally beginning to accrue.

The weather remains cold (duh!) but at least it's sunny.  And the length of each day is becoming noticeably longer now.  There is still a bit of light in the sky at 6 p.m.  I don't feel weary of winter all the time but I can say there are days when I have felt weary of how much slogging has been required to escape the virtual quagmire I found myself in last summer.

I took a two hour long nap this afternoon.  I find myself continually facing that challenge of knowing when to work hard and when to rest.  When you have a deep feeling of having missed out on so much there is out in the world to experience it can be easy to fall into the trap of overcompensating or making up for lost time.  At least I have felt that way.

Tomorrow I will be attending a class focused on listening skills.  The class is offered at the Basilica of St. Mary.  I look forward to continuing to enhance this skill as it is vital for doing anything substantial in the realm of storytelling.








Thursday, February 6, 2014

Life Before and After Trauma

Thursday, February 6, 2014


The following are the contents of an article written by Catherine Woodiwiss. My friend Keith recently forwarded this article to me as the focus of the piece is trauma. I decided to use the content as a framework to provide my own reflections on where I stand now some seven months after I began writing this blog. My comments appear in normal font below.


I knew that pain was a part of life, but — thanks in part to a peculiar blend of “God-has-a-plan” Southern roots, a suburban “Midwestern nice” upbringing, and a higher education in New England stoicism — I managed to skate by for quite some time without having to experience it.
After a handful of traumas in the last five years, things look different now. Trauma upends everything we took for granted, including things we didn’t know we took for granted. And many of these realities I wish I’d known when I first encountered them. So, while the work of life and healing continues, here are ten things I’ve learned about trauma along the way:

1. Trauma permanently changes us.

This is the big, scary truth about trauma: there is no such thing as “getting over it.” The five stages of grief model marks universal stages in learning to accept loss, but the reality is in fact much bigger: a major life disruption leaves a new normal in its wake. There is no “back to the old me.” You are different now, full stop.

This is not a wholly negative thing. Healing from trauma can also mean finding new strength and joy. The goal of healing is not a papering-over of changes in an effort to preserve or present things as normal. It is to acknowledge and wear your new life — warts, wisdom, and all — with courage.

This first one is perhaps one of the most difficult ones to acknowledge. Trauma is often so difficult precisely because it can result in permanent change. Does this happen in 100% of all cases of trauma That is a good question. I honestly do not know. If there are some people who emerge from a period of trauma not fundamentally changed or at least somehow marginally impacted I suspect that they represent a very small fraction of the total population who will experience trauma in their lifetimes.

What has been so difficult for me in my own personal journey is the confusion I feel regarding when I can expect normal to feel, well, normal. When trauma happens very early in a person's development, and is then followed by still more trauma early on(as it did in my particular history), it seems the potential for serious and even permanent harm is quite large. As I have observed in the company of friends and alluded to in this blog it seems to me that adults can heal from trauma much more easily than children because they possess something children do not: they have life experience and maturity which can foster the important ability to maintain a healthy perspective. Trauma does not have to permanently scar us and our ability to live in a healthy way in an all too often unhealthy world. But the potential for such scarring is there, and seems to increase as the age at which you experience trauma decreases.

I also agree with Catherine's sentiment, however, that trauma can ironically help us to discover strength we might rarely call upon. This has been my experience. I have come to realize I am much stronger than I often gave myself credit for. I have indeed been finding new strength and joy as she notes is possible.

2.  Presence is always better than distance.

There is a curious illusion that in times of crisis people “need space.” I don’t know where this assumption originated, but in my experience it is almost always false. Trauma is a disfiguring, lonely time even when surrounded in love; to suffer through trauma alone is unbearable. Do not assume others are reaching out, showing up, or covering all the bases.

It is a much lighter burden to say, “Thanks for your love, but please go away,” than to say, “I was hurting and no one cared for me.” If someone says they need space, respect that. Otherwise, err on the side of presence.

I cannot agree more with this one. From what I know of the literature within the mental health profession isolation, intended or otherwise, is a risk factor for the development of a variety of issues including depression, anxiety and delayed healing. We need the presence of others in part because they can assist us in finding that important gift called perspective which I alluded to above. But more importantly we need others because we are social creatures; human beings are not meant to live in isolation. I think it goes against the very grain of our DNA. Put another way: 'No man is an island'.

Very much related to the polarity of presence and distance is the issue of boundaries. Some trauma is very much a product of the violation of healthy boundaries. When children are abused, when a woman is raped, when an entire community is devastated by an occupying army, when a person stalks you...these are all examples of events in which the trauma results from a violation of boundaries.

Looking back and realizing how I had my own issues with boundaries earlier in my life I can say with great confidence that a person's conscious or unconscious violation of personal boundaries can be taken as one potential indicator that a person has been traumatized in the past.


3.  Healing is seasonal, not linear.

It is true that healing happens with time. But in the recovery wilderness, emotional healing looks less like a line and more like a wobbly figure-8. It’s perfectly common to get stuck in one stage for months, only to jump to another end entirely … only to find yourself back in the same old mud again next year.
Recovery lasts a long, long time. Expect seasons.

This observation is also profound. Healing is most certainly not linear. Living encased within the distorted Western, industrialized world paradigm that says 'progress' is not only good but essential, inevitable and endlessly sustainable is a serious delusion. Human development bears out the reality that much of what we observe in the world unfolds in a decidedly non-linear way.

I remarked earlier in the history of my blog how my recovery process was unfolding in direct apparent contradiction to the seasons outside my windows. As I continued to improve last summer, autumn and early winter I was simultaneously observing the world outside moving in the direction of hibernation and death. To be honest it felt quite jarring. Even in the seasons of weather there are steps forward and back. Spring will arrive only to be punctuated by cold winds that serve as a reminder of the season that recently held sway. Heat waves and cold waves can disorient us. Trauma is like that...it can be profoundly disorienting.

But how long does recovery take before you feel normal? That is another good question. There are some days when I yearn so much for a clear answer to that question that I almost hurt in a different way. Considering I had an anxiety disorder that was not fully successfully treated and that this was with me for a vast majority of my life history it does seem rather incredible to expect I would be done with my recovery after a mere seven months...even if I include all the time I previously spent in therapy. I am still waiting to experience my first spring as a man without an anxiety order distorted my capacity for clear perception.

Here is one final connected point. I find myself sometimes drifting off into thoughts of what this coming spring will be like. I tell myself "This spring will be amazing!" And then I catch myself in this imaginative reverie and realize I have the power to direct the course of my life but that I am also a part of a larger system whose future course is well beyond my control. I have ideas about what the future will hold but I cannot guarantee anything to myself or others. And I believe knowing that to be true is a very healthy way of living in the world.


4.  Surviving trauma takes “firefighters” and “builders.” Very few people are both.

This is a tough one. In times of crisis, we want our family, partner, or dearest friends to be everything for us. But surviving trauma requires at least two types of people: the crisis team — those friends who can drop everything and jump into the fray by your side, and the reconstruction crew — those whose calm, steady care will help nudge you out the door into regaining your footing in the world. In my experience, it is extremely rare for any individual to be both a firefighter and a builder. This is one reason why trauma is a lonely experience. Even if you share suffering with others, no one else will be able to fully walk the road with you the whole way.

A hard lesson of trauma is learning to forgive and love your partner, best friend, or family even when they fail at one of these roles. Conversely, one of the deepest joys is finding both kinds of companions beside you on the journey.

I can say so much about this one. Rebuilding a life impacted by trauma is no small project. In the best of circumstances post-trauma life can be demanding; it might feel like a never ending slog to get to some 'final' destination that looks like what you imagine healing to be. Under the worst of circumstances trauma can permanently debilitate us. I feel grateful my history of trauma never permanently disabled my body. Though I have had my share of aches and pain I have a very healthy body all things considered.

Reviewing this comment I also am reminded of the wisdom of not 'putting all your eggs in one basket'. If you expect a small number of individuals to be your entire world for you there is a fair chance you will be disappointed.  I have learned this lesson...and then forgotten it only to relearn it again. Just like it is wise to diversify an investment portfolio so is it also wise to diversify how you invest your time. No one person, not even a life partner, can be everything you want and need.

I also agree that trauma can be a very lonely experience. Based on my own personal history and the friendships and relationships I have enjoyed throughout the years I believe it is wise not to invest too much energy trying to find someone so nearly identical to you that you feel it's somehow a guarantee they will be able to relate to you in a deep way. When I have tried to imagine such people for myself I have stuttered a bit at the very thought.  Indeed, I don't imagine there are many people whose personal history (the particular life themes, issues, hurts, traumas, etc) could easily mirror my own.

Finally, as you go through the healing process, it can be very appealing to bond with others over common experiences of trauma. I felt a bit of a tug to do this when I was attending the partial program at Abbott Northwestern Hospital last November. But there is a risk that in seeking companionship based first and foremost on common wounding you might easily collapse your sense of self into your trauma. We are more than the sum of our traumas and hardships. We are much more! Despite whatever particular ways relationships may have been modeled to you as a child healthy relationships do not emphasize the negative, the hurts and a pessimistic outlook on life.

5.  Grieving is social, and so is healing.

For as private a pain as trauma is, for all the healing that time and self-work will bring, we are wired for contact. Just as relationships can hurt us most deeply, it is only through relationship that we can be most fully healed.

It’s not easy to know what this looks like — can I trust casual acquaintances with my hurt? If my family is the source of trauma, can they also be the source of healing? How long until this friend walks away? Does communal prayer help or trivialize?

Seeking out shelter in one another requires tremendous courage, but it is a matter of life or paralysis. One way to start is to practice giving shelter to others.

This can be a challenging issue to confront. And I think it is only more so in cultures like America where we all too often seem to exist in a 'landscape of atomized selves'. To better understand what I mean by that term please search out a past blog post under that title.

I struggle with the question as to whether family can be the source of healing considering how so much of my PTSD developed in response to illness and dysfunction within my family. The challenge is to not permanently isolate when your heart is wounded. To never allow yourself to love again is to never live again. Life is full of risk. There are no guarantees the moment we emerge from our mothers.

Thus far I have found regular and rigorous physical exercise to be an excellent way to do my own grief work. I do not believe there is one right way to grieve. I do think it somewhat safe to say there are wrong ways to grieve though. Examples would include isolation, rumination over perceived mistakes and what-ifs as well as refusing to allow yourself to fully feel your pain.


6.  Do not offer platitudes or comparisons. Do not, do not, do not.

“I’m so sorry you lost your son, we lost our dog last year … ” “At least it’s not as bad as … ” “You’ll be stronger when this is over.” “God works in all things for good!”

When a loved one is suffering, we want to comfort them. We offer assurances like the ones above when we don’t know what else to say. But from the inside, these often sting as clueless, careless, or just plain false.

Trauma is terrible. What we need in the aftermath is a friend who can swallow her own discomfort and fear, sit beside us, and just let it be terrible for a while.

Another way to rephrase this is the following: 'Do not offer false hope.'

When someone is suffering terribly it is only natural and humane to reach out to offer solace and whatever comfort we can. Sometimes all we can do is be present for a person. And sometimes that is more than enough. Attempting to rescue someone from pain may feel noble and wise but rushing in to 'save' a person may do more harm than good. When trauma proves all the more devastating due to poor coping and life skills rushing in to rescue someone caught in such darkness may only delay the inevitable realization a person may need to have that it is essential to develop healthy life skills.

Rather than offer false hope I would propose an effective coping technique can be to refocus your attention on what still is working and wonderful in your life. Unless you are clinically dead there is something going well for you. It may be something as simple as being able to breathe. In the most horrifying moments of trauma we would benefit from employing conscious breathing techniques. This can allow the mind to settle down.

7.  Allow those suffering to tell their own stories.

Of course, someone who has suffered trauma may say, “This made me stronger,” or “I’m lucky it’s only (x) and not (z).” That is their prerogative. There is an enormous gulf between having someone else thrust his unsolicited or misapplied silver linings onto you, and discovering hope for one’s self. The story may ultimately sound very much like “God works in all things for good,” but there will be a galaxy of disfigurement and longing and disorientation in that confession. Give the person struggling through trauma the dignity of discovering and owning for himself where, and if, hope endures.

This piece strikes me as somewhat similar to #6. Rather than rush in like a paramedic might do sometimes 'merely' witnessing with a person going through difficulty may prove immensely helpful. Sometimes silent presence is ultimately a more satisfying balm than the most concerted actions to change disheartening circumstances (and supposedly thereby address the root issue).

8.  Love shows up in unexpected ways.

This is a mystifying pattern after trauma, particularly for those in broad community: some near-strangers reach out, some close friends fumble to express care. It’s natural for us to weight expressions of love differently: a Hallmark card, while unsatisfying if received from a dear friend, can be deeply touching coming from an old acquaintance.

Ultimately every gesture of love, regardless of the sender, becomes a step along the way to healing. If there are beatitudes for trauma, I’d say the first is, “Blessed are those who give love to anyone in times of hurt, regardless of how recently they’ve talked or awkwardly reconnected or visited cross-country or ignored each other on the metro.” It may not look like what you’d request or expect, but there will be days when surprise love will be the sweetest.

This is wonderful encouragement. And I can attest that love indeed does come to us at unexpected moments. Sometimes the smallest of generosities may come to us and yet for those going through a personal agony it may feel as if that person has moved a mountain for you. Never underestimate the power of a kind word or action. Remember the expression 'It's the thought that counts'?

It's also important to recognize that love can only come to us in the ways we are open to it. You cannot enter doors that are not already open. I believe the more open we are to healing the more likely we are to heal. And healing is as unique as the person experiencing it! So consider asking yourself this question: 'How do you recognize a loving person?' What does love do?


9.  Whatever doesn’t kill you …

In 2011, after a publically humiliating year, comedian Conan O’Brien gave students at Dartmouth College the following warning:
"Nietzsche famously said, 'Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.' … What he failed to stress is that it almost kills you.”
Odd things show up after a serious loss and creep into every corner of life: insatiable anxiety in places that used to bring you joy, detachment or frustration towards your closest companions, a deep distrust of love or presence or vulnerability.

There will be days when you feel like a quivering, cowardly shell of yourself, when despair yawns as a terrible chasm, when fear paralyzes any chance for pleasure. This is just a fight that has to be won, over and over and over again.

This reminds me again that healing after trauma has no standard path. I have had days when everything outside of me gives the illusion that my life is perfectly fine. You can have a day when everything flows smoothly and you get everything you want and somehow you still feel low and blue. It is perfectly fine for such days to come and go. Remember that recovery is just that, recovery. And yet I do believe that a solid commitment to bettering your life will eventually be handsomely rewarded. It simply takes time and commitment. And you have to be willing to remain steadfast even when the results you desire do not seem to be coming. Think of the farmer who plants his seeds in spring. Does he expect a full crop in a week's time? Of course not. So it is with healing.

10.  … Doesn’t kill you.

Living through trauma may teach you resilience. It may help sustain you and others in times of crisis down the road. It may prompt humility. It may make for deeper seasons of joy. It may even make you stronger. It also may not.

In the end, the hope of life after trauma is simply that you have life after trauma. The days, in their weird and varied richness, go on. So will you.

That which doesn't kill you not only may make you stronger but it may give you something I alluded to earlier in this writing: perspective. If you have struggled with multiple sectors of your life (career, home, relationships) for a protracted time do you really think you will be likely to notice or care about the small details in life? And by small details I mean those minor things that some people inflate to such a degree that you find it laughable how much energy they waste on drama. Think about these. The discarded bathroom towel not properly hung to dry. Being five minutes late to an appointment. A rain check on a social engagement you are forced to reschedule due to bad weather. Will these minor disappointments permanently hurt you? No. So don't give your immense power to them.


In short trauma does not have to signify the end of a good and enjoyable life. You may come out of trauma permanently changed...but perhaps the changes will lead you to an even better life. Who can say? I believe a key to surviving trauma is to not armor yourself against pain indefinitely but to allow loss to speak to your heart. By embracing our darkness we can later more deeply appreciate that which is light in our lives.

Thank you to Catherine Woodiwiss for her excellent piece. I hope my additional thoughts will prove inspirational to those who follow me.


Catherine Woodiwiss is Associate Web Editor at Sojourners. She can be found on Twitter at @chwoodiwiss.