The Value of Health Insurance

Sunday, June 15, 2014



I have been contemplating the value of my health insurance recently.  I do not know where I would be today if I did not have the health insurance I have.  I have had health insurance at other times in my life but I have never appreciated the immense value it provides me until these last twelve months.

As I have made clear in previous writings here in my blog the diagnosis of PTSD I received last year in June was quite a shock.  I was surprised in part because I had (willingly) gone to therapy earlier in my life to attend to the issues that I was plagued by in my earliest years of life.  I thought that past treatment had been sufficient to address those early wounds.  But then I underwent EMDR therapy and also sought out the talents of local shamanic practitioner Mary Rutherford.  It then became clear there was more healing I could do.  And I have sought out deeper healing...yet again without the expressed support of my paternal family of origin.

So now a year has passed.  And then this last week an opportunity presented itself to be considered for a job back in the Monterey Bay area of California.  I feel it would be foolish to not apply for it considering how much time and energy (often with no compensation in return) I gave in support of organizations dedicated to natural resource management located in that area.  But I have some major considerations as I contemplate such a possibility.  And one is the fact that the position would offer me no health insurance whatsoever.  I would have to buy insurance on the private market in California.  Also important to consider is the fact that I would lose my Medical Assistance insurance here in Minnesota on the first of the month following the month I would leave the state to relocate to California.  This is not a small loss to consider.  I will not take any undue risks that could seriously risk my own recovery and future health.  And so I have to think seriously about the potential consequences of my choices.


Health insurance has been omnipresent in the political discourse of our nation these last several years.  It's only natural this has been the case considering the overhaul of the health insurance system that has been a central focus of the legacy of President Obama.  Seeing the vast variety of perspectives held by the American populace regarding health care has been an educational, eye-opening and sobering experience for me.  I have heard some perspectives I personally find so deplorable, selfish and short-sighted that I could only wonder what were the influences that have molded individuals to develop such viewpoints.

For example, I recall hearing some people express the sentiment that health care is 'not a human right'.  I find such a belief ridiculous.  If health care is not deemed to be a fundamental human right then how can you create a stable, democratic society?  If you are willing to watch your fellow citizens go uninsured and thereby be at heightened risk of illness, homelessness, destitution and the like then how can you simultaneously do any number of things such as 1) seriously call yourself a Christian, 2) profess to agree with the fundamental beliefs expressed within the United States of America's Declaration of Independence about all men being created equal and being endowed with certain inalienable rights (if we are created equal does it not follow that we should fundamentally enjoy equal access to fulfilling our most basic needs...including care for our very health?) and 3) claim you love your nation and believe in its exceptional place in the world (while ignoring the suffering of your fellow American citizens who, if you would support their own potential more actively, could make more of their lives and thereby make the United States a stronger and more vibrant nation).

I realize what I have shared is quite a mouthful.  But it continually flabbergasts me that people can so vociferously proclaim their love of their country of citizenship and yet simultaneously completely ignore the needless and completely preventable suffering of their fellow Americans.  If you want your nation to be a strong nation then it requires, in my opinion, that you actually give a rat's backside about the fate of your neighbors and fellow citizens!  And yet many people seem not to be able to make the connection!

I see the callous disregard for the suffering of others embodied all too often in the discourse regarding healthcare that has been a predominant thread of our national discussion these last several years.  If you can willingly and actively deprive other citizens of your own nation of the opportunities you have enjoyed and somehow find this a justifiable standard of behavior then I have to question the health of your own view of the world.

I have appreciated the depth and ongoing harm being caused by the political polarization that has persisted in the United States these last several years in part as a direct result of my own suffering and struggles to maintain my health as well as find a job worthy of my skills.  As I have restored my health (with the great blessing of the very good health care insurance I enjoy by virtue of living in Minnesota) I have found myself feeling even more strongly that people who would willingly ignore the suffering of their fellow citizens are not only not Christians (no matter how much they may proclaim otherwise) but also not truly supportive of the spirit that informed the establishment of the United States of America as expressed in the Declaration of Independence.  In short, I marvel at what other Americans think it must mean to be Americans.

I personally believe that health care is and should be a fundamental human right.  Depriving people of a means to provide basic care for their very health (or failing to aid them in their efforts to do so) strikes me as not only antithetical to the basic spirit of the United States as expressed in the Declaration of Independence and Bill of Rights but also simply contrary to respect for the fundamental dignity of human beings.

Pandora's Box Cannot Be Resealed...Period

Saturday, June 14, 2014

I have often raved about the benefit of EMDR treatment in this blog.  I suspect I will continue to do so.  But I think it might be a bit of a misnomer to attribute so much of my transformation to EMDR therapy alone.  I am sure the shamanic journey work I did with Mary Rutherford was also of immense help.  These experiences plus all the healthy habits I practice have made such an extraordinary difference.  And yet even with all the improvement it seems to me that I am still wading through such an immense quagmire of grief.  I suppose I can chalk that up to being somewhat metaphorically ‘asleep at the wheel’ for so long.  And I didn’t think I was.

It seems to me that the potential for deep healing is inextricably tied up with the quality of humility.  To acknowledge your own wounds is essentially necessary to be able to tend to them.  We cannot heal what we will not confront.  Put more bluntly the surest way not to solve your problems is…to not solve your problems.  Avoidance can prove highly toxic.  Avoiding problems is how individuals, companies and entire nation states find themselves eventually collapsing into oblivion…or at least irrelevance.

I feel that the treatment I embarked upon in the last year essentially opened my personal version of Pandora’s Box.  What has unfolded is simply not reversible.  I cannot put the genie of change back in the bottle so to speak.  It popped out and now I must attend to the consequences.  And I realize that I want a profoundly different life.  I am sure I will write more about that in coming days, weeks and months.

Something I have not brought up in therapy recently is the fact that I still feel as if I am in a bit of shock.  Yes, it’s been essentially a year now since my latest eventful adventure began but that entire year of time has not yet led me to emerge completely from the state of shock I first felt last summer when I first reentered therapy.  The shock is wearing off.  But I still feel it.  How long will it last?  I do not know.

I learned of a job opportunity this week that I am going to apply for.  It is based in the Monterey Bay area of California where I once attended school between 2009 and 2011.  I have some mixed feelings about applying.  My ambivalence has very little to do with the job prospect itself.  As I read through the job description I was able to relatively easily imagine myself in the role.  No, my bigger concern quite honestly is my health insurance. 

As it gradually became clear that the imprint of the trauma of my earliest years of life had still not been effectively erased by treatment I had received prior to last June I began to feel a much deeper appreciation for the value of my health insurance.  I do not want to do anything to put my present and future health at needlessly high risk.  I thus feel very cautious about doing anything that could undermine my health.  Living without health insurance feels like an exceptionally risky proposition.  Because the job in question would provide me no health insurance I would have to seek out a policy on the private market.  And I am not sure what I could get in California.

And then there is the reality that I would effectively be throwing myself a big speed bump if I were to relocate for a job.  Though I am so much better than I was last summer I still feel it would be wise to do more therapy.  But moving for a job now and thus finding it necessary to find a new therapist would be another big task to take on.  Do I really want to take the risk of leaving behind what I have laboriously worked with such immense diligence to build?  That is another question I might be asking myself in the near future if I am offered the job.

The quality of my life is now so much better than it was for such a long time.  I would say it took me about two full years to descend into what seemed to be utter oblivion last summer.  If it takes an equal amount of time to climb out of this dark hole I was in then I am already half-way there.  I would be out of the pit by the summer of 2015.

As you may have guessed I can be a highly analytical person.  But I have lived long enough to come to believe that healing is not a fundamentally linear process.  Whole months can pass in which it may appear the person on a journey of healing seems to make no progress forward towards significant goals.  And then other moments we can experience incredible insight and growth spurts like what teenagers experience as puberty.

I do feel the momentum of my recovery is still positive.  I am not moving backwards.  I am not regressing.  Instead I am wanting to take a bit of a rest break and appreciate how far I have come.  We all need time to rest and recuperate.

The Summer Solstice is only a week away.  It’s amazing how far I have come.  I want to believe there is still immense possibility for the future of my life.  Patience, diligence and trust are qualities of being I still feel the need to earnestly cultivate.

One Day You Won't Wake Up Again

Friday, June 13, 2014

This past Wednesday evening I learned that my uncle Emil had passed away.  Emil was the long-time husband of my father’s eldest sister, my Aunt Patsy.  They had been married for over sixty-three years.  They lived their entire lives in Arkansas.  I may be wrong about this but I do not believe that either of them ever set foot outside the United States of America.  I do believe it safe to say that my Aunt Patsy exemplified the dutiful wife.  Emil was the focus of her life.

When a person somehow connected to us dies we can easily be reminded of our own mortality.  Death will take each one of us one day.  And we do not know when that day will be.  Each day we wake up can be experienced as a gift…or a curse.  We may not have control over the circumstances of our lives but we can control how we interpret and respond to what we experience.  It isn’t always easy.  But the truth isn’t always very pleasant to grasp.

I have a certain principle that I attempt to live by.  I cannot say I have always succeeded at it.  I’d like to believe one day I might always be able to do so.  I try to be thoughtful and treat people in a way that is informed by the knowledge that each time I see them may be the last time I ever see them.  We can never be sure when will be the last time we can say ‘I love you’ to the people we care about.

I think my early life experience of trauma must have informed my outlook in regards to our common experience of mortality.  I am so very aware of the all too often fragile nature of the bonds that connect us with each other.  I would rather focus my life on love and kindness as opposed to animosity, divisiveness and bitterness.  Again, this is often easier said than done.  The wounds of the heart can burden us for many years.

I find this awareness to occasionally be both a gift as well as a curse.  I am very much aware of the extensive gifts I have to offer.  And I am also aware of how I haven’t been using them very much…in many years now.  It’s sobering and very disillusioning.

That Crossroads Moment

Thursday, June 12, 2014


About a year ago the s*** really hit the fan.  Then came my descent into distress, illness and grave pain.  A year has passed and I am much better.  And now I find myself at one of those moments where I feel I have reached a fork in the road.

Today I learned of an employment opportunity back in Monterey, California.  I lived in Monterey while attending graduate school between 2009 and 2011.  The opportunity is with an organization founded by a school colleague.  I didn't know him well while I attended school but we did chat on more than one occasion.  I have a good impression of him.  He recently was working for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.  I gave my time for free to NOAA in 2010 and again in 2012.  I did so partly in the hope that my generosity would lead to a career.  It didn't.  Now I am two years older and two years (somewhat) wiser.  A lot has changed!  And my intervening experience has further informed my outlook.

Today, while working my position at Abbott Northwestern Hospital, I tried to imagine myself again living in the Monterey Bay area.  There are aspects to the place that are amazing.  Big Sur is nearby.  San Francisco is just a two hour drive away.  And of course California itself is an amazing place.  But since I left the state in early 2011 California has continued to suffer through drought.  It's made headlines in newspapers across the country...at least in the bigger city newspapers.  It's been so dry that I shudder to think what the forest fire season will be like in a few months.  I don't much savor the idea of smoke in the air.

Then there is the matter of the demographics of the Monterey Bay area.  The demographics aren't exactly pleasing to my sense of what will fulfill my needs.  It can be a lonely place for a gay man.  I remember it was when I lived there.  But at least you're not likely to meet people in that immediate area who are as vociferous about the apparent merits of stoning gay people to death as a certain political candidate in Oklahoma was noted to be recently.  Predictable, quiet oceanside communities have their charms.  But they can also be extraordinarily insular.

Here is one argument in favor of taking a job there if it was offered to me.  I could see California again with eyes no longer still subtly clouded by trauma.  I would be seeing the state all over again...but it would appear differently to me.  I have no doubt about that.  But there are many other beautiful places in the world to see outside of California.

I've had so many disappointments and discouraging experiences in the last three years that I have become much more mindful in regards to my own health and needs.  One unfortunate reality of the job in question is that it would not offer me any health insurance were I to become an employee.  I value my health insurance greatly.  To lose it at this exact moment in my life would be a risk I do not feel would be wise to take.

Next week I will learn of the status of my application for vocational rehabilitation benefits.  I will also speak with the Executive Director of the Foxfire Institute in Berlin, Germany.  I suspect the best path for my future is going to become much more intelligible in the next few weeks.

Life In America, Past and Present

Wednesday, June 11, 2014


I finally have a good clinical term to describe something that I had been unknowingly experiencing for so many years.  The phenomenon is called derealization.  I spoke about it last night when I met with my therapist.  It's a little strange to wake up after thirty years of living in a less than fully conscious state of awareness.  But then again I hear of people who spend their whole lives essentially 'asleep at the wheel' only to awaken in their last days, weeks, months or years of their lives to the 'real' reality that they have not really experienced the world as it actually is...or was.  I feel grateful I will apparently not be such a person (unless I die in the relatively near future).  But the process of recovery is still a long one.  And sometimes it feels quite arduous.

As I look around at the world I feel myself a bit split between reflecting on the past and living in the present moment.  When I recently chronologically organized correspondence within my family of origin dating back to 1970 I discovered some letters that I couldn't remember previously reading.  I unexpectedly made some rather interesting discoveries.

Among the correspondence I looked through was a statement addressed to my father at our home address that was postmarked June 11, 1982.  This was eight days after my father was shot and nearly murdered...by a teenager no less.  The statement was a notification informing my father that my biological mother had been hospitalized within the state of Texas.  It's a little surreal when I realize that both of my parents were essentially hospitalized for a time in 1982.  I wasn't even nine years old and I had already endured nearly losing both of them...one to mental illness and the other to domestic violence.  It's no wonder I developed a 'touch' of PTSD.

I feel a lot of grief now because I simply cannot easily remember any of the daily moments of my life in that summer I was eight years old.  I cannot recall the details of what I did for my ninth birthday in September, 1982.  My memory seems to be a virtual blank until late 1983.

I certainly cannot blame that on being too young to remember. Eight years old is much, much too late in childhood to not remember due to being at too early of a developmental stage.  I cannot really remember what happened that summer and I think it must be partially due to the fact that there was so little joyful events to actually remember.  And that blackness causes me grief now thirty two years later.

I will get through the grief one day.  I am convinced of that.  I am simply too dedicated to my own life not to heal in good time.  As for now I try my best to look at the beautiful green trees outside.  I venture out in the pleasant evenings when possible to enjoy what it is like to look at the world with clear perception.  I am still growing familiar with what that feels like.  It has taken quite a while to get here.  But at least I am here.


As for the United States of the present day I have to admit to feeling as if I am awakening from one nightmare only to discover what seem to be storm clouds on the horizon of our country's future.  Here are two examples as to why I feel anxious.  Eric Cantor was soundly defeated by a virtually unknown and unfunded candidate last night.  Anyone who knows me well knows I have no love loss that Eric Cantor has been dethroned.  I think the man epitomizes the worst of the greed, recklessness and stupidity within the Republican Party.  And yet hearing that a Tea Party identified candidate won only makes my stomach churn more.  My second example comes from the realm of food.  I brought some cereal with me to work this morning.  The back of the box addresses the issue of GMOs in our food supply.  The United States is one nation whose policy in regards to GMO food genuinely concerns me. I wish I lived in a nation where I had more confidence about the quality of our food supply.  Instead I suspect that regulatory capture of the relevant federal agency (the Food and Drug Administration) by corporate interests that have absolutely no real concern for public health is going to cause us more problems in the future.  I don't want to have to wonder if animal and plant genes have been spliced, tinkered with, modified and mutated for the purpose of somehow creating better food for me.  From what I know the science of such genetic modification is not sufficiently compelling to be giving corporations like Monsanto the type of latitude they are given with respect to their influence.  Can a corporation be inherently evil?  I have to wonder.

Yes I realize these reflections may seem overly gloomy but I simply cannot help myself.  I feel it's a miracle I survived to this point in my life.  Between stories of gun violence (which now seem to be a daily occurrence in our national life), GMO foods, the GOP attempting to use the full faith and credit of the United States as a bargaining chip in its attempt last year to destroy the Affordable Care Act, the ongoing bizarre weather and the like I cannot help but wonder what is happening to our nation.  How did we reach this point?  The surrealism of events I hear about makes my own personal awakening sound almost trite in comparison.

It's rarely been boring to be me.  This has been true in the past.  And I plan to have an excited life in the future...eventually.

The World Has Never Appeared So Vivid

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

As we near the Summer Solstice here in the Northern Hemisphere I continue to find myself marveling each day about how vivid the world appears to me now.  Some of this is naturally due to the fact that we are now in the brightest time of the year.  The days are long and the sun is high in the sky.  The intensity of daylight is nearly as high as it will be all year long.  And yet this is the first time the Earth has gone around the sun in which I have felt truly and completely awake and alive as we near the first official day of Summer.

Sometimes when I gaze down a street or look at the brilliant green foliage (made possible by a very wet spring) of the trees I almost have to squint because the illumination coming from the sky above feels so intense.  I have commented numerous times previously here in my blog how the world suddenly appears to somehow be more three dimensional than it ever appeared to be before.  How the world could indeed become more three-dimensional than it already is strikes me as an apparently bizarre idea to hold in mind.  And yet it’s clear to me that something very profound has happened to me.  The world appears to have more depth, more texture, more subtlety, more everything than it ever has before.  Unless the laws of physics that define the world outside my body have literally changed it’s quite obvious that the change I see outside of myself is because my own perception has changed.

What is all the more amazing to me is that I have this feeling that my eyesight is somehow continuing to improve.  The last time it was measured it was 20/17.  Is it possible it has become even better?  It certainly is possible.  But is it happening?  I’m intrigued to find out.  As the days, weeks and months pass since last summer it seems my own vision is only growing sharper and sharper.

Throughout my own life I have read stories of people experiencing profound healing that was completely unexpected.  I’ve heard stories of people going into remission from cancer and other life-threatening illnesses when all the doctors were adamant that the health of the person in question was beyond repair.  I’ve heard of people walking again who were never expected to walk again.  I’ve heard of parents performing feats of strength beyond apparent reason when their own children have been threatened with imminent harm.  I’ve heard of people surviving days and days with nothing to eat or drink after being buried alive in the rubble generated by an earthquake.  It seems to me that miracles might be far more commonplace than many of us are led to believe.  But never in my life did I ever imagine that I personally might experience something that could rival these stories I have heard.  And yet it appears to be happening right now…to me…in Minnesota of all places.

When I think back to last summer I have this image of myself as walking around with eyes that were partially veiled or clouded.  As I have noted before it seems that the trauma that had affected me as a child had, among other things, clouded my perception of the world.  And I wasn’t even aware of my clouded perception.  I was looking at the world with grief that I had not fully acknowledged, fully confronted and fully healed.  Now I am doing that.  And what an interesting next step in the journey it is!

I don’t typically associate grief with the season of Summer.  If anything Summer is commonly and correctly associated with joy.  Winter corresponds to grief, loss and even devastation.  There is nothing quite like a cold January wind or a powerful blizzard here in Minnesota to convince you that winter is the season that ‘matches’ the realm of grief and death.  Thus I find it a bit difficult to attend to my grief in a very deep way right now.  I’d rather exult in the beauty of summer and focus on my joy.  And there is certainly much joy for me to experience.  I have woken up from the imprint of trauma I had been carrying around for so long.  When ancient conditioning sloughs away and you can see the world without any preconceived notions or distorted perspectives the world can suddenly appear brand new.  So has it come to pass with me.

When my eyesight was first ‘clearing’ last summer and autumn I felt some heightened anxiety that something was wrong with me.  Now looking back after more time has passed it seems that the variability in my eyesight was a symptom of my healing process.

I can also think back on other moments in my childhood and appreciate that there were other clear indications that something was amiss.  Being inordinately fatigued was one indicator.  I can still recall a time when I visited my friend Michael in the neighborhood I grew up in.  I went to his house to play and spend the night.  Instead I slept for what I recall was over twelve hours.  This does not strike me as normal for a boy of the age I was at that time.  I believe that grief, pain and stress gone unacknowledged can metaphorically metastasize into a variety of phenomena.  And being excessively tired is, I believe, one way such unattended issues can manifest.

I awaken each day now with a wonder I have never previously known.

An Inevitable Plateau?

Monday, June 9, 2014


It's a beautiful sunny day outside.  The temperature is quite lovely.  And I feel sad.  I feel so very sad.  It must be the grief within me.  Perhaps it's the fact that I am still adjusting to life without the veneer of trauma.  It's so beautiful outside!  And I am spending my waking hours looking at a computer screen doing yet another job that I could have done when I was seventeen.

When I see my therapist tomorrow I am going to speak with him about my sentiment that I believe my recovery will not be complete until I can make more fundamental changes in my life.  One fundamental transformation I need to make is moving in a new career direction that will ultimately prove satisfying.  I feel so invisible in the work I am currently doing.  I feel like an anonymous person who keeps a seat warm and basks in the glow of a computer screen underneath harsh lighting.  How did this become my life?  I feel that my recovery will inevitably plateau at some point in the near future.  If and when that happens I feel more fundamental changes will have to take place for me to leap to the next level of growth.

I have worked so hard for nearly a year.  I will not have my progress undermined by the circumstances of my current life.  I don't want to rant but I just feel so frustrated with how slowly some aspects of my recovery are progressing.

I need to get outside and enjoy the beautiful weather!

Who Would Jesus Ignore?

Sunday, June 8, 2014

It’s become so incredibly obvious that the time came for me to let go of trying to have a real relationship with members of my paternal family of origin…at least for now…and possibly indefinitely.  It became clear to me this past week when, on the anniversary of my father’s attempted murder, my attempt to once again address issues from my childhood with my relatives was met once again with the same avoidance that has gone on for years.

I do not understand how two people who have professed to think of me as “the son they never had” and who had a dog of their own at one point could essentially say nothing in response to my disclosure of an incident from my youth in which my stepmother deliberately struck a neighbor’s dog with her car.  How can a person blindly ignore such cruelty by not even acknowledging my disclosure?  By failing to acknowledge my disclosure in any way whatsoever it seems to me they are tacitly condoning the violence and unethical conduct that was an unfortunate element of some of the most formative time of my early life.

More to the point, how can someone who is avowedly a practicing Catholic behave in such a way?  To be perfectly blunt let me rephrase the criticism: Who would Jesus ignore?  Indeed, how can completely avoiding the difficult topic of misconduct and abuse be construed to be at all in keeping with the teachings of Jesus Christ?  In my mind there can be no congruence because Jesus was not tolerant of cruelty, deceit and exclusion.  Jesus is not reputed to have ignored the marginalized, the suffering, the victims of violence.  In fact, he is reputed to have been as welcoming, kind and nurturing of them as he was of anyone else he encountered.  I can still remember the story of Jesus saying to a man crucified next to him (while he himself suffered his own crucifixion) that he would join Jesus in paradise.

More broadly speaking I simply do not understand (and believe I never will understand) my fellow American citizens who blather on about being such Christian people and yet act in the most un-Christian of ways.  Consider the following laundry list of issues:

• Do you marginalize the poor?
• Do you persecute minorities?
• Do you steal?
• Do you gossip for the pleasure of undermining others' reputations?
• Do you deprive people of justice for crimes they have been victims of?
• Do you ignore the pain of others (regardless of whether you have contributed to the suffering of others or not)?
• Do you willfully avoid all challenges that might be made to unethical, irresponsible and/or unkind conduct and attempt to victimize those who challenge you on your harmful behavior?

If you can honestly answer ‘Yes’ to any of these questions then your conduct does not align with what I understand Jesus is reputed to have taught were the values of the Kingdom of God.

As I have noted in previous writings I do not know that I personally believe in the historical Jesus Christ as shared with me by the Catholic Church during my childhood.

The whole of Jesus’ life makes for a nice and even inspiring story.  And perhaps he did live on this Earth at one point.  But I have come to this point in my own evolution: I believe we should be kind and caring to one another not because we believe some deity would like or expect us to behave in such a way but because being human is enough of a reason to be kind and decent to one another.  And yet apparently having that as a reason to be kind is alone not enough for many people.  It is enough for me.  I suppose I would fit the description of a secular humanist.  Again, I do not care what the exact term is.

As I finally move on from expecting my paternal family of origin to ever change in a significant way I feel a lot of grief.  This is to be expected.  Letting go of dreams that those closest to you will truly be present and listen to you is not necessarily easy.  Indeed, it can be excruciating.  But it’s also necessary if I want to maintain my own health.

……

This June continues to be much better than last June was.  My cholesterol was noted to have increased by forty-six points according to the lab results I received yesterday.  This is a bit concerning to me.  But otherwise my physical health is quite good.  Restoring the health of my outlook remains the larger task.

In other news I continue to marvel at how vivid the world appears to my perception now.  It still hasn’t even been a year since I began to experience the beneficial results of EMDR therapy.  So it’s still my first time around the wheel of the seasons in which I am experiencing the wondrous beauty of the world without the subtle veneer of trauma clouding my perception.  It’s been raining so much lately that the Twin Cities is beginning to look like a northern version of a tropical jungle.  There is so much vivid greenery everywhere!  And it seems I have never appreciated the beauty of the color green as much as I do now!

Using Distraction As A Means Of Healing

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Today was a much better day than it could have been.  But this is true of many days.  One piece of wisdom I received from my father I actually do agree with is “Life is what you make it.”  Today I was determined to distract myself as much as possible so I wouldn’t think (too much) about the fact that my father nearly died from an attempt on his life back in 1982.  I had erroneously remembered that the final attempt on his life was made on June 5^th.  It wasn’t.  It was made on June 3, 1982.

I have come to realize that it is time for me to move onward with my own life.  I declare that I have suffered over my early life history long enough.  That doesn’t mean that I will wake up tomorrow and feel instantly ‘healed’ and as crisp and brilliant as fresh laundry but I can choose to orient my life in a new and better direction.

I woke up this morning at the home of a friend.  This choice was deliberate as I did not want to wake up alone and begin ruminating excessively about all the disappointments and terror of the past.  I went out to lunch with my friend Ivan who generously bought my own lunch.  In the afternoon I spoke with someone at the University of Minnesota about a certificate program I am interested in.  After work ended I went to get my annual physical with my primary care doctor.  More on that shortly.

I had ice cream with another friend after my annual physical.  And while at the ice cream shoppe (named Sebastian Joe’s) something interesting happened that I took as a cue it is indeed time to move onwards.  It happened to be the birthday of one of the workers who was there when I arrived.  He was born on June 5, 1994.  I made a point to wish him a ‘Happy Birthday’ even though he didn’t actually serve me.  I thought it would be a nice gesture as well as a nice act acknowledging the beauty of this day.  In finding the beauty of the moment I would focus on that rather than the horror that had been on my mind on Tuesday, June 3rd.  By the time I was ready to wish him a pleasant birthday he had already left work.  So I told one of his co-workers to wish him well for me.

Later on I went to the YMCA and went swimming.  The gym was virtually empty.  It was nice to have much of the pool to myself.

Finally I walked to do some grocery shopping.  And on my way there I noticed a beautiful sunset.  I found it a bit amusing that the sunset was so beautiful as I had spoken with my friend Thomas earlier today about watching the sunset tonight.  I had given up planning to pay the sky any attention.  But the sky caught my eye nonetheless.  It was one of the more beautiful sunsets I have seen recently.  And in seeing the beautiful sunset I found myself firmly committing to my choice to look for the good and beautiful in life.  I can’t keep focusing on what is not pleasing.  How will doing so change anything?

I need only think on other imagery from my day to appreciate how much I am blessed.  During my lunch break I saw a woman out walking who had only one leg.  While showering at the YMCA there was a man lacking a left forearm.  I may have my issues but I still have much to be grateful for.

……

My annual physical went well.  My primary care doctor found no major issues.  I had blood drawn to check my cholesterol level.  I am going to titrate down a little on the Zoloft.  It seems to have precipitated quite a bit of weight gain.  But overall it’s wonderful to see how much progress I have made since last June.

……

I decided to let go of constantly trying to get my paternal family of origin to hear my concerns fully.  They have their reasons for living their lives as they do.  And I have my reasons for choosing to live as I am living.  Nonetheless I do wonder how it can be possible to love people who I feel don’t really see me for the man I am.  Can you love someone who doesn’t fully honor your needs?  Isn’t that some sort of paradox? I don’t know.

……

I have never felt as alive as I do now.  It still feels a bit weird.  The world still strikes me as so amazingly vivid.  All the recent rains have made the world a place full of lush green.  I still find myself marveling at the interplay of light and shadow.  I still notice that I am noticing how the breeze feels on my face.  I notice that I marvel at the colors of a simple sunset.  Life is good…if only I will pay attention to it.

……

I may never see my paternal family of origin again.  Somehow I will find a way to reconcile myself to this possibility.  It may not happen that way.  I am finally becoming more able to live radically in the present.  And as I do so I realize how much I have missed out on the beauty of the world earlier in my life.  But I wasn’t fully present then.

Healing is an amazing journey.

Above and Beyond

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

My primary goal for this month is to have a much better June than I did last year.  That shouldn’t be too difficult considering the state of my life last June: I quit a job (in which my employer bounced a paycheck and generally showed very little ability to treat his small number of employees well), was sick for much of the month with a lung issue, experienced harassment by members of an organization I had previously been enthusiastic to join and was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Yeah, it was an all too memorable month.

This time around my focus is to work full time (and do my best to not ruminate on how my life still doesn’t look very much like I would like it to), continue my gym regimen, learn about the certificate program at the University of Minnesota Center for Spirituality and Healing and do as many fun activities as I can reasonably fit into my schedule.  And I also want to find a new living environment appropriate to my needs.  I would say I am being fairly ambitious.  But I believe these goals are all within my relatively easy reach.

I slept very well last night.  I probably should have gone to bed earlier.  I suppose it’s another way I am honoring my inner child (a bit too much).  When I awoke this morning I felt as if I had slept the Sleep of the Dead.  By that I mean that when I woke up I felt this luxurious combination of feeling deeply rested, a little bit of fatigue and a sense of wonder at how powerful EMDR therapy has been for my own journey of healing.  As I looked in the mirror this morning I had the impression I looked a bit younger than I did yesterday.  This was gratifying for me considering that I am all too age conscious lately.  Going through this process of recovery at the age of forty is not a consistently pleasurable experience.  But maybe purging my own darkness will make the world a better place by inspiring others to heal themselves as well.

I am on my way to a follow-up visit with my podiatrist this morning.  I have been experiencing some pain with my feet lately.  It has been yet another unfortunate source of anxiety for me.  I hope (yet again) that nothing is seriously amiss.  I suspect I am fine.

With all the trauma I have ‘unpacked’ in these last eleven months it seems to me the process of my recovery now has a momentum of its own.  This is both wonderful and also a bit anxiety provoking for me at times.  I have my moments when I wonder if I will recall the feelings I had at the time of something upsetting from decades ago at a most inconvenient time in the present.  Thankfully I feel that I am finally truly and completely past the crying episodes of last summer when the trauma of my early life history seemed to return to my conscious awareness all at once.

Dark Recollections: June 3, 1982 - June 3, 2014

Tuesday, June 3, 2014

The last major significant date in the calendar before I reach the one year anniversary of my conscious plunge back into intensive healing (yet again) is here.  For those of you who have followed my blog since its inception you might remember what date that is.  It is June 3rd.

On June 3, 1982 my father was nearly murdered.  He essentially survived only due to dumb luck; had he been standing one inch off how he stood in the doorway when he was shot the bullet would have gone right through his heart.  He later kept the bullet as a reminder of his survival of this heinous attempt on his life.  I always felt repulsed by the reminder.  But it appears my father has long lived in his own world as to what was appropriate behavior after his near death. 

Today, on June 3, 2014, I found myself aware of those feelings I had in the days  immediately following after that day thirty-two years ago.  I was relieved that my father did not die.  But I felt something else I didn’t feel I could safely share within my family of origin.  If I am to be completely transparent with the mix of feelings I felt I would have to acknowledge there was a part of me that had wished my father would have died.  I wasn’t even nine years old and already I had such strong feelings regarding my father.  Why?  Because I had already gone through completely preventable abuse during his second marriage.  And I resented him for not looking after me better. 

However, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that like any well trained Catholic I also felt guilt.  I can recall also feeling guilty for having any thought whatsoever that I would be better off without my father.  But it is the truth of how I felt.  I really resented him for the poor choices he made.  And I felt disgusted with my paternal family that such a crisis occurred and that the aftermath was handled as it was.

It wasn’t until last year that I came to understand just how deeply the trauma I had experienced in the earliest years of my life had affected me.  Despite all the previous therapy I had gone through the impact of the trauma on my very brain had still not been completely addressed.  A combination of EMDR therapy, shamanic journey work, dedication to a gym regimen and regular weekly visits to my current therapist made an incredible difference.  Eventually I came to feel more alive than I ever have before.  And yet the journey continues.

It saddens me that I am walking this journey of healing without any real support from my paternal family of origin.  But it’s been this way for decades.  There is no reason to hold out any hope that my father and his siblings will ever change.  If attempted murder (by your own spouse) doesn’t cause the siblings of the intended victim to take pause and wonder about the deeper circumstances of how such a thing can happen then I don’t know what would be necessary to shake them out of their apparent trance-like state.

I feel fortunate that I am on my way to my therapist now.  I hope this isn’t a rough week but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it is.  But at least after this week there will be no more major dates before the anniversary of my reentry into therapy comes and goes.  I am about to begin my Year Two.  I can’t imagine how it couldn’t be easier than my Year One.

……

In visiting with my therapist this evening we did a session featuring EMDR.  Today I recalled an incident from my childhood in which my stepmother deliberately struck a dog that belonged to one of our neighbors.  I can still remember going to my neighbor’s home and seeing the x-ray of the dog.  I felt mortified to live in the same house as someone who could be so deliberately cruel to an animal.  It was a sign of what was to come later.  But it was a sign that was ignored…like so many other signs.

I found myself crying on the floor of my therapist’s office as I recalled the terror I felt living with my father and increasingly volatile stepmother.  I felt such sadness that my neighbor’s dog had fallen victim to my stepmother’s meanness.  But I couldn’t express the depth of my fear to my father as I already intuitively knew at that young age that he simply could not deal with such difficult issues.

As I continue this journey of healing it sometimes amazes me just how much emotional energy I repressed within myself.  I had to do so as a way of coping with the stress of living with my father.  I didn’t really have a choice in the matter…at least not an easy choice.  I suppose I could have expressed my feelings more but somewhere in my all too impressionable mind I made a less than fully conscious choice to internalize so much of my horror and pain so that I would not be an easy target for more unwanted attention (read here abuse).  It’s amazing how long it can take to undo the legacy of a childhood marked by chaos, abuse and deceit.  But I am on my way.

After leaving my appointment I embarked on what has felt like an exceedingly long bus ride.  I am still on the bus now.  But at least there is an amazing sunset.  I am experiencing the afterglow I typically experience after doing EMDR work. Everything is vivid.  My eyes feel as if they are feasting on the world outside my face.  It still feels weird on occasion to experience the world in such crystal clarity.  But I have gradually adjusted to it.  And yet it is still my first summer being so fully alive.  And here I am forty years old and finally experiencing it.

The joy, sadness and grief still mingle daily.  While taking my lunch today I felt exhilarated by the lovely warmth outside as well as the green grass all around where I sat.  Last June 3^rd I still hadn’t yet begun the journey I am on now.  I recall I was sick at the time…and not sure what exactly was going on with my health.  The world was filled with fuzzy boundaries…quite fitting considering what the earliest years of my life were like.

I find myself feeling impatient some days.  Other days I feel profoundly weary.  And then other days the grief seems to just consume me as deeply as the Pacific Ocean is wide.  I believe one day this phase of intermingling feelings will transform into still another ‘new’ flavor.  Who knows when that will be.  Maybe it will happen several months from now.  I am living the vast unknown mystery that healing often insists we embrace to ultimately discover its most precious gifts.

It’s funny to me now how I can recall how much I disliked my English classes in high school.  But then again I went to public school in Texas.  Texas isn’t exactly a state that encourages intensive, sophisticated thinking.  (And from what I can tell as evidenced by the people participating in brandishing their weapons in broad daylight as part of ‘Open Carry’ it appears the culture of Texas is still plenty regressive, backwards, violent and paranoid.)  I never envisioned myself as a writer.  As a high school student I never imagined that one day I would actually call myself a writer…and not be joking.

I write for myself.  I also write for people I believe may one day follow my writings more closely.  I would like to believe that my daily dedication to this practice will somehow inspire some change in the future world.  Maybe some children will not go through what I have endured because their parents will somehow discover what I have been sharing each day…and their discovery will somehow change their hearts and minds.  One does not have to be a writer for an exceedingly long time to have an impact on the world.  Anne Frank is an excellent example of this truth.  Her life ended prematurely due to the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands.  Who knows who she could have become if she had lived a longer life.

Who knows who I will become if I stay faithful to this process of documenting my journey.  I am already proud of what I have accomplished thus far.  Regardless of what ultimately happens I have come to appreciate more fully the strength I have inside me.  It is that strength that has carried me throughout my life.

Moving Further Forward

Sunday June 1, 2014

That illustrious time has come around.  It is June again.  And this time around I am intending it to be much less painfully eventful compared to last year.  June, 2013 was made quite memorable by virtue of all the unnecessary drama I experienced with regards to my health as well as a dispute I had with a local organization’s leadership that first began last June.  I wish this summer to be a memorable one but not by virtue of unneeded drama.  It is my desire to make this summer the best one of my life.  I believe I have a good chance of making this come true.  I already have this particular distinct advantage: I am in treatment to address the issues of what I would call my ‘deep past’…and the treatment has generally been going well.  I am quite likely in the best health of my life now.

As I sat in my friend Bryan’s car on the way back to Minneapolis this past Tuesday I found myself feeling drowsy.  In a state of heightened relaxation it seemed as if I was walking into that tender wound from when I was eight years old.  It was that wound that came to be after my father was nearly murdered.  The wound was a wound of grief, fear and sadness.  And the wound was based in the distorted yet comprehensible belief that I would not live to see the age of nine years old.  Grief is quite a burden for an eight year old to carry around.

It has become clear as I have walked this journey of recovery for nearly a year that grief has been at the core of the wounds I experienced in my childhood.  Unresolved grief haunted me for so long.  I can take some consolation in knowing I am not alone in this experience.  Some people experience grief that can never be fully resolved because the loss that produces the grief is one whose circumstances, despite all efforts to the contrary, can never be fully clarified or understood.  I think it only natural that we humans attempt to make some rational sense of loss…even when doing so is quite simply not possible.

As I noted in a recent daily post last summer was a summer in which I felt predominantly angry.  I was angered by my father’s inability to be available to my grief.  It quite naturally triggered the unresolved grief I felt from early in my childhood. 

I feel profoundly different as this summer season begins.  My anger is essentially long gone.  With this volatile layer removed I can now gaze at what was underneath.  What was underneath was an immense amount of grief.  And I hope one day I will find what is underneath the grief.  I don’t know when that will happen exactly.  I have set a goal for reaching that milestone.  I suppose it is fairly realistic.  Time will tell in that regard.  June, 1982 was a time of immense trauma for me.  June, 2013 was also quite painful.  I sense that June, 2014 will be much, much better.

Looking Back One Year Ago: June 1, 2013

Sunday, June 1, 2014


Written one year ago today...

Day 20 – My Return…And Now a Break

My “working vacation” was so demanding that I believe I might very well have earned a vacation from my vacation.

I didn’t really sleep last night.  I could not easily sleep even if I had wanted to.  Light started filling the sky over Berlin around 4 am (the sun rises before 5 am) and I decided to venture out and make one last offering.  And yet again it was raining.  This was not one of my better trips to Europe when measured against the weather….I think I experienced three completely sunny days if even that.

I went to the Brandenburger Tor with the hope of making a short video piece to acknowledge the American Council on Germany as well as my German ancestry.  The first attempt seems to have had a decent volume but I was too close to the camera…my head was cut off at the scalp.  The second one was better regarding my appearance…but the volume seemed too low.  Regardless of what I find when I review them closely it is the thought that counts.  I honored my ancestors in a deep way and then left in the growing morning light to make my way back to the hotel to prepare to leave Europe.

It’s a bittersweet departure I am making.  I understand more about my family of origin now.  That gives me some greater peace.  Having opened the door to the past to confront that which had been never fully resolved I can now face the other direction and create a better future for myself.

I am back in Minneapolis now. It's nearly 9 pm...nearly 4 am in Berlin where I was 24 hours ago. Indeed...24 hours ago I was preparing to venture out to make one last offering at the Brandenburger Tor...a symbol both of German power and unity as well as division and suffering.

I feel complete now in a very profound way. Two years ago I opened the Maui Times and saw an article that focused on the legacy of Nazi atrocities committed in World War II. The German shadow seemed to loom large...and was, I felt, inviting me in as a way of journeying to a new beginning.

Here I am two years later...and I have made the journey. I feel much light will come from having entered the shadow. It was painful. It was demanding. It was exhausting. But I believe it was worth it.

The End of an Old Time has come. Now comes the new beginning!