My Vision Clarifies

Saturday, September 26, 2015


The last forty-eight hours have been quite eventful.

I attended a day of events offered by the Youth Intervention Programs Association yesterday. While at the venue site I found myself feeling very inspired by the presentations given. Of all the words shared one sentence spoken early on remains with me: "Nobody wins when our youth fail."

I never really seriously imagined making youth education and empowerment a major focus of my professional life in years past. But I have begun to think anew in recent weeks and months. My journey of recovery these past twenty-seven months thoroughly shook up the contours of my previous life. I allowed myself to begin contemplating personal and professional possibilities I had never really contemplated before. My "out of the box" thinking has now landed me in a new place. I find myself on the cusp of a new journey defined by new values, new interests and new aspirations.

A vision of my future work that I can bring immense passion to began to finally clarify for me yesterday. I felt amazed and a little overwhelmed when the imagery began to vividly appear in my imagination. And this is what I saw: I saw myself applying my skills in research, community engagement, education and writing to inspire young people to take an interest in marine conservation in Hawaii. I specifically saw myself using my eyesight to do research of the marine environment...and then engage young people in such work. One tangible possibility I felt drawn to was getting young people in Hawaii excited about marine protected areas in general and the United States national marine sanctuary system.

Now, one day later, I feel a bit like I did on the day after I received the diagnosis of PTSD in late June, 2013. I feel...powerfully impacted and changed. And I feel excited! Yesterday it felt as if my future reached backwards in time into the present moment and announced itself to me.

Powerful Change

Thursday, September 24, 2015


It's been five days since I last wrote here in my blog. Days have a way of passing by in a blur now. I have become so busy with my "new" life that it's easy to arrive home at the end of the day and feel so exhausted that I simply cannot motivate myself to sit before my computer and write. There are some days when I feel badly that my fatigue ultimately proves more powerful than my passion. But change, any change, has a way of challenging our existing routines. And I have been undergoing a lot of change lately.

Here is the positive material. In meeting with my therapist yesterday I found myself "complete" with my own material so early in the session that I actually asked my therapist to further describe the life of another client he originally mentioned for the purpose of drawing a parallel to my own life. The fact that I asked to hear more details about the challenges faced by another human being who is a complete stranger to me convinced me that something has fundamentally shifted in my own life. That I am willing to spend some portion of time in a session dedicated to my own wellness hearing about the life of someone I have no emotional connection to tells me that I am quite healthy now. When no amount of  human suffering inspires an empathic response we can correctly surmise that we ourselves have become quite hardened. When the plight of complete strangers interests us it must mean our hearts have some softness still in them.

I continue to enjoy my job working for a local non-profit organization focused on assisting homeless youth. I have been rather careful to not identify the organization I work with on my Facebook page because I still harbor some fear that some local people whose behavior two years ago proved highly offensive and even deeply harmful to me may find it somehow not highly inappropriate to meddle in my life even now and make more trouble for me. While I know it can be easy for me to slip into a mindset of deep mistrust (this can come easily to me due to the trauma I experienced which I have recounted elsewhere here in my blog) without good cause I feel it wise to be careful, even now, due to what happened back then. And something else that happened last night convinced me all the more that my cautious approach is warranted. Now it's time for the unpleasant material.

I learned last night that what happened two years ago may still be impacting the quality of my life as well as my prospects even now. My landlord apparently heard from some people we mutually know in the time since I moved in early August. These people apparently did not give me glowing character references. I suspect some of these individuals might have some sort of association with the Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus. I can only speculate because I was given no actual names. I don't have the impression that any false information was provided about me. And yet I nonetheless have the impression that other people's wrong impressions about what happened in 2013 and 2014 still may be unjustly coloring the way they think about me and speak about me to others. Incorrect impressions are something I can understand. Deliberate lies and vicious gossip are not something I can understand or respect. Deliberate lies and malicious gossip can destroy people's lives. It is my impression that such poor behavior may still be a somewhat common aspect of the behavior of some of the membership of the aforementioned organization.

It's an unfortunate truism that gay people have a somewhat deserved reputation for being extremely vicious and malignant when they perceive themselves to be harmed. You could call it the Vicious Queen Syndrome. I say somewhat deserved because (thankfully) not all adult gay people act like intolerant, spoiled, self-important teenagers or bratty five year old children. But there are all too many gay people who do. And I feel I have already met my share of them. And I have certainly already dated my "fair" share of liars, jerks and the incredibly self-important. And I wish my future life to exclude such nonsense. I prefer being single rather than enduring people who won't get their lives together and actually be kind and decent to others.

I have come to develop a strong aversion to the passive aggressive way of living that marks Midwestern culture. Also known locally as "Minnesota Nice" I find this way of interacting with others so exasperating partly because it is such a colossal waste of time! Why spend so much of your life using mind games and subtle hints to communicate what you are really thinking and feeling to other people? In my opinion life is too short for such bullshit. If I were younger I might feel inclined to do the passive aggressive two step...but I refuse to live in such a shallow way. What if we all behaved as mature adults routinely do and simply express ourselves without fearing others will misinterpret our intent or even later deliberately set out to harm us due to their misinterpretations of our words and actions? What an amazing world that would be if adults routinely behaved as...adults! What a concept!

I felt sad throughout much of today due primarily to this conversation I had last night. It never ceases to amaze me how one-dimensional people can be in their thinking. Rather than try to understand people and accept them as they are it seems so many people are perfectly content to mistreat and judge others based on the most superficial of encounters and personal knowledge. In short I wish there was more depth to the daily reality of human interactions.

Despite the sadness I felt throughout the day I generally felt good otherwise. A whole new life is blossoming for me. I learned some lessons the hard way these last two years. And I expect I will never need to learn them again.

The Power of EMDR Treatment

Saturday, September 19, 2015


I started to write about a topic near and dear to my heart in my entry from yesterday evening. My entry today is meant to further explore this topic.

I found myself appreciating the impact that EMDR therapy has made on my life during my recent trip to Denver. I was in Denver to attend the Social Enterprise Alliance conference. When planning for my trip I perceived there was a distinct possibility that the trip could cause memories of earlier moments in my life to appear in my present awareness. And that indeed did happen. While visiting the area immediately around the Denver Center for the Performing Arts I found myself unintentionally remembering my visit to Denver in 2012. In the summer of 2012 I was living in Washington, DC. I was pursuing an internship with the NOAA Office of National Marine Sanctuaries in the hope of eventually launching a long-term career in the federal government. Though that has not (yet) happened I nonetheless do value the time I spent in Washington, DC.

One of the highlights of my time in DC was my participation as a singing member of the Gay Men's Chorus of Washington, DC. The chorus traveled to Denver that summer to participate in a gathering of LGBT choruses that occurs once every four years. The occasion features days and days of concerts and  an opportunity to meet people from all over the country. I found myself walking through some of the very same streets while in Denver this past week. And I recognized many of the places I first encountered in 2012. My life has changed dramatically since 2012. And this dramatic difference has been facilitated in large measure by my decision to undergo EMDR treatment.

I have written about EMDR therapy in many entries in my blog. I now perceive the world with what sometimes seems to be an entirely new set of eyes. When I call to mind the memories of my trip to Denver from this past week I notice a qualitative difference in the visual aspect of my memories; my recent memories are more vivid. These recently created memories possess a sharp and vibrant quality that is lacking in my memories of these very same places in Denver that I created in 2012. In essence I, the perceiver, have undergone a fundamental transformation in how I experience the world around me.

When I first underwent EMDR treatment in 2013 I initially felt overwhelmed and awed much of the time. It was painful for me to realize I had effectively not been "correctly" perceiving the world for much of my life. I wasn't truly seeing the vibrant beauty of the world as it truly is. As time passed I wondered if I would ever not feel amazed by the change in how I perceive the world. Over two years has now passed since I was first introduced to EMDR therapy. And I still wake up and notice the beauty of the world around me. And I am aware of the fact that I notice the beauty of the world most every day.

We sometimes experience events in our lives that forever change who we are. Some changes we may seek to consciously bring about through the application of our own will. Other times events take place which we would rather not be impacted by but are nonetheless. These inescapable events may prove particularly painful or disruptive of our lives. If I had to assign two words to describe what the year of 2013 was for me those words would indeed be painful and disruptive.

And yet I have journeyed out of that painful abyss. And I have discovered myself to be a new man. I cannot be the person I once was. EMDR treatment was, for me, life changing.

Change is not always easy. Even changes that ultimately lead us to an improved quality of life can be difficult to accept and adapt to. I have many times found myself wondering if the change I have experienced these last two years ought to somehow inform what I choose to do for work in the remainder of my professional life. I have asked myself "Am I such a different person now that I can't be the same person both in a professional sense and personal sense?"

In traveling to Denver I once again appreciated the magnitude of how my perception of the world (and myself) has changed. I am now intent to learn if there currently exists an online forum for people who have underwent EMDR therapy and who, like me, found it to be life-changing. I sometimes feel quite alone in taking the journey of transformation I have taken these last two years. I would like to find others to chat with whose lives have been profoundly and positively impacted by the use of EMDR.

Call it a belated birthday wish for myself.

My Strength Has Returned

Friday, September 18, 2015


I am now back safely home in Minnesota.

My time today in Denver was interesting. As I prepared to make my way to the airport I found myself dealing with something of a wave of anxiety. I realize that what I was feeling was due in part to my recollections of my past visit to Denver in 2012. I wasn't seeing the world very clearly back then. It was only three years ago but it seems like a lifetime ago or even some other life that I can recall from my memory. It's a bit surreal really.

I feel much stronger now. I feel ready to create a better future for myself. 

Time Stretch

Thursday, September 17, 2015


I am composing my entry tonight in Denver, Colorado. An entire week has passed since I last wrote. And a lot has happened. I suppose I will sum up some recent events of the last week in chronological order.

September 11: I avoided the media coverage of the anniversary of the September 11th attacks as much as possible. It's a little surreal when I consider that there are now teenagers here in America who were born after that horrible day. It's also saddening to hear that George W. Bush's brother Jeb(!) Bush provided a narrative of his brother George's "presidency" that is patently false during the "debate" last night. I have to put two words of my last sentence in quotes because there was little about "W" that signified genuine leadership and what passes for debate in this country these days is a genuine farce.  The Republican spinmeisters are already industriously rewriting the history of George W. Bush's two administration to make it sound as if he was some insightful, wise figure who shepherded the United States with thought and compassion. It's a bit surreal to hear such lies dispensed as historical truth.

September 14: I had my birthday. It was a nice day. I met some friends for dinner. I enjoyed chocolate cupcakes with these same friends at Como Park. And it was my first birthday without being on medication since 2012. I believe it is correct to state that I have decisively overcome the horrible health impacts of my early life history now. What I focus on now is creating a foundation for a sustainable and rewarding future life.

September 16: I flew to Denver to attend the Social Enterprise Alliance conference. It has been an enjoyable event.


Visiting Denver has been something of a bittersweet experience. Why? I have been to Denver before. I first visited Denver in 1997 as a member of the Society of Jesus of New England. I was a novice member of that religious order at the time. I came to Denver for a month long course on the history of the Jesuit order. I lived on the Regis University campus. I visited Denver much more recently in 2012. At that time I was a singing member of the Gay Men's Chorus of Washington, D.C. I was in the very same part of town yesterday and today to attend the Social Enterprise Alliance conference. I recognized some of the buildings and street names.

The experience has been bittersweet for me because three years ago now seems to be ancient history. As recently as three years ago I was (still) perceiving the world around me with eyes impacted by the trauma I had experienced as a kid. I just didn't realize this was the truth of my situation. So, actually, this has been my first time visiting Denver with clear vision and a cleansed psyche. It has taken some time to get here.

But here I am now. I am ready for a new future. And I have been working on laying a strong foundation to create that future for the last two years now. The foundation is done.

It's time to build!

The Night Before September 11th

Thursday, September 10, 2015


Today was a full day of work. After working my primary job I helped a friend with some yardwork in the evening. The days are obviously growing shorter now; I could hardly see what I was doing by 7:45 pm. Yes, autumn is coming. And tonight the air will have a genuine slight nip to it. The inevitable changing of the seasons is here yet again.

While working with my friend Jamie we briefly spoke about what we were doing on the day of September 11, 2001. It seems a bit surreal that fourteen years have passed since that day. I didn't lose anyone I was personally close to that day. But America lost a lot that day. We lost thousands of American lives. And, in my opinion, that day marked the beginning of another significant but longer term loss. The George W. Bush administration used the events of that sad day to manipulate the nation into entering a tragically shortsighted war of choice against Iraq. Here we are fourteen years later and we are still cleaning up the mess left behind by two consecutive administrations of George W. Bush. That that man became president truly proves most anyone can become president in this country.

My purpose in writing my entry tonight is not to invite my dear readers to relive that horrible day. Instead I am using that day as something of a foil to encourage reflection on trauma and healing. I feel fortunate to be alive and be enjoying a life as decent as I have. I still feel some sadness regarding how long I carried around my own unhealed trauma. But thankfully my new life is consuming my attention now. I don't really have much time to spare to ruminate on the past.

And yet I can tell how different life is for me now. Since beginning to drive again last week I have noticed that the experience of driving is itself a very different experience for me now. I suppose it is correct to say that even my whole previous driving history is something that I accumulated with a pair of eyes that did not perceive the world as clearly as they do now. I sometimes still get caught in awe when I pause and ponder how long I had been walking around with "trauma on the brain". Thirty years is a long time to carry such a burden.

Anyhow, it's time for something lighter. My birthday is in four short days. I want this to be a happy time for me. And it is. I haven't felt this good in decades.

Memories

Tuesday, September 8, 2015


Today I mounted a painting my mother made (many years ago) in my workspace. I can't recall ever displaying her artwork in my workspace throughout the entire history of my professional life. It's nice to have a reminder of her and the beauty she brought to the world. Though I love her very much and she is still alive it can still be painful to be around reminders of her. I know my ability to display her art is a testament to my own strength.

I shared the above words via social media earlier today. As the seasons inevitably begin to turn and my birthday nears it seems only natural I should spend a bit of time pausing to consider what my past has been as well as the people in my early life history who had a formative influence on me. I thought about  my parents again the other day when, after looking through a box of my personal effects I had not seen in over three years, I discovered all my old passports. I got out my current passport and then placed them all in chronological order. Then I took a look at the oldest passport.

The issue date of my oldest passport was February 17, 1981. A very young boy is smiling in the photo. His hair has already been turning brown for a while. The blonde boy he once was has already vanished. His front two baby teeth are gone. But the teeth that will replace them are not yet evident in the picture. That seven and a half year old boy looks very enthusiastic. He appears genuinely excited to be there getting his photograph taken. Now, thirty-four years later, I can't remember that day at all. And I don't believe it is a reasonable expectation that I should remember it. And yet that boy I was had such a great smile that day. You would think he was about to board a plane that very same day and go off on an immense adventure.

That passport was cancelled five years later. A new one was issued on April 22, 1986. A lot had happened in the intervening five years. A twelve year old boy looks out from the photograph of that passport. And there is no beaming smile. Instead there is a look of...what? Cautious presence? Circumspection? I believe that the intuitive individual may easily sense that something has fundamentally changed. But is it just due to the fact that this boy is now on the verge of adolescence? No, it's not. That boy had experienced a significant amount of trauma in those intervening five years. And though he was only twelve that boy looking out from that passport has already successfully pushed down his conscious awareness of a thought that has run through his mind all too often. The thought is a fear. And the fear was that he wouldn't live to see adulthood.

My one and only half-brother was born near the end of 1986. He'll be thirty years old next year. Though my father did make some effort to parent me when I was an adolescent I had become very adept at hiding the depth of my feelings of fear, anger and alienation. I had learned to do so because nobody in my family of origin would pay attention to these feelings I carried even when I did reveal them. So somewhere in my adolescent mind I concluded I had to start showing a front. And I did. I started showing a false face to the world.

Two years ago, in 2013, I stopped spending any energy showing a false face to my family of origin. The consequences in regards to my family were essentially what I expected. Members of my family did what they have always done. They avoided confronting the long un-confronted issues as they always have. And I suppose they expected I would just keep tolerating it. But I chose a different path. I chose the path of sanity. I chose a path to lead me back...to myself.

It hasn't been easy to awaken from the illusions I was caught in. I have experienced so much loss and discomfort in a mere two years. I felt quite shaken up for a while.

Later this year, shortly before the Christmas holiday season (and its associated frenzy) begins in earnest, I am going to mail these same members of my family some gifts. I will be sending these gifts as peace offerings. I don't expect my family of origin will ever change. I don't believe the reality of never seeing me again will necessarily shake them from the stupor of what I can only conclude are their own firmly rooted delusions. But it's not my responsibility to wake them up. It's my responsibility to take care of me. I am the only person alive who can be truly responsible for my own life.

Two years of therapy to truly heal a burden of trauma never fully healed is actually quite a deal. Considering I had carried the burden over thirty years an investment of two years is quite small. I got a great return on my investment.


I dream of a world free of hypocrisy.

Re-Membering

Monday, September 7, 2015


Today was a special day. And I don't declare it to be special because it was Labor Day. That made the day special as well. Today was significant because I finally opened a box of possessions that had been in storage on the West Coast for over three years. My personal effects were returned to me earlier this year. But not until today did I actually open the box containing my belongings. And as I opened the box and elements from my life several years ago spilled out my memories corresponding to these many materials also came spilling out of my mind.

Revisiting possessions that we once held dear years ago can be something of a revelation. We can find ourselves wondering what is was about certain items that we found so endearing. As we live our lives our values are apt to change. And as our values change it's inevitable that what we count as our 'stuff' will also change.

I suppose the most interesting moment in my perusal of my belongings came when I found a necklace I made years ago. The necklace features a sun symbol as its centerpiece. I created the necklace from beads. I believe I must have gone to some business in California that featured "make it yourself" necklaces. I do vividly remember I had made the necklace to give to a partner I imagined having one day in the future. That imagined partner has not yet materialized. And I think the necklace is at least five years old now. I decided not to waste my past efforts by leaving the necklace sitting in its little box. Tomorrow I am going to start wearing it whenever I choose. I am learning more and more how to be good to myself.

An interesting thing happened when I put the necklace on this afternoon. I accidentally put it on backwards; the sun symbol was facing in towards my chest rather than out towards the world. I began to fumble to take it off and correct the "error". But then I paused. I thought about how the metaphor of the sun shining in towards my chest was an apt, though unintended, "mistake". For too much of my life I have made the error of giving more to others than I have to myself. Living such an imbalanced life over a life period of time is a good prescription for the harm that often comes from such protracted imbalance, namely illness and burn-out. So I walked around at home with the sun symbol facing my chest. Thankfully I am much better at taking care of myself than I was five years ago.

Much better.

Sometimes we need to remember the past in a new or different way to be able to successfully integrate what we have experienced and, perhaps seemingly ironically, then let go of the past. Exploring my own early life history has been much of the focus of my healing "odyssey" these last two years. This focus gave my blog it's distinctive "flavor" over the course of many months.

It's a measure of how fragmented and uneasy my life was for so long that it actually feels a bit strange to have "all of me" in one physical space. My earthly possessions are finally now all here with me in the state of Minnesota. I have left little pieces of my heart in places throughout the world I have found powerful and amazing. Some of these places include Germany, Norway, Hawaii and South Dakota.

To re-member the fullness of the course your own life has taken can be an amazing yet arduous thing. I feel grateful to feel re-membered in mind, body and spirit. When I consider the many influences that have shaped who I am today it's quite clear that I have indeed been a world traveler.

The Tether I Used To Escape The Abyss

Saturday, September 5, 2015


I have been in something of a reflective mood lately. This sometimes happens when major changes take place in my life. The fact that my birthday is coming up in nine days is another reason to give me pause and reflect on where I am now and what I would ultimately like to do with the life I have before me.

One major positive change I can report since my last entry is my procurement of a "new" car. The car isn't exactly new. Indeed, it has over 200,000 miles on it. It is a 2000 Subaru Legacy. The car was essentially gifted to me by a friend of a friend. I picked it up yesterday and drove it home from work. It had been over four years since I had a car of my own. My last vehicle was totaled on a rainy morning in Oregon in March 2011. I am fortunate that I was not 'totaled' with that car.

I actually felt a bit emotionally overwhelmed at one point yesterday. I felt so grateful to be the recipient of this unexpected generosity that I nearly began crying. The tears would have been inspired by a mixture of joy and relief. I feel relieved that I have managed to overcome the many difficulties I experienced in the last two years. I also feel relieved that the intense grief I was once feeling has significantly eased. Though I still do feel sadness on occasion the burden of my sadness is nothing compared to what it once was. I no longer really feel myself at significant risk of my sadness mutating into a black depression.

I also feel joyful these days. This blog I began writing twenty-six months ago has been but one piece of a puzzle whose assembly played a vital role in the restoration of my health. In meeting with a dietitian recently I describe my dedication to writing as ultimately resulting in the creation of a rope that I used to climb out of the abyss I felt myself in back in 2013. All the words I have written here, were they to be laid out end to end, symbolically created a thread that I used to life myself up and out of the darkness. When I think of this thread I cannot help but think of the story of Ariadne and the thread. You can learn more about this story from Greek mythology here.

The new challenge in my life now is no longer to heal from the deep wounding I experienced in the past. My challenge now is to keep up with the pace of the present. The many positive changes I have experienced recently all came about in such rapid succession that I have felt a bit overwhelmed by the end of many recent days. Thankfully a long weekend like the one we have now (Labor Day is on Monday) can be a good antidote to fatigue and excess commitments.

As I have noted numerous times in recent months I find myself in a time of transition. My focus in my own life has shifted. And my needs have changed. My need to write this blog has also changed. I continue to try to find some time to reflect on what I ultimately would like to do with my writing in the future. I trust this will become apparent as more time passes.

Contemplating A Life Of Empowering Young People

Wednesday, September 2, 2015


A new idea has been blossoming in my mind this last month. I have started to imagine the possibility of my future career having a focus on inspiring and empowering young people to take care of the world around them.

I began writing my blog over two years ago. It originally was meant to be a venue for me to express myself as I went through a deep process of purging a lot of psychic dreck. This process took quite a bit of time. I didn't really start to feel a lot better until at least six months passed after I first took a trip down the "psychotherapeutic rabbit hole" in June, 2013. Appreciating the depth of how wounded I felt by the negligence, stupidity and corruption of so many individuals and institutions was a very sobering experience. I felt sad for many, many months. I felt inspired when the one year anniversary of my blog arrived in July, 2014. I felt pleased I had been so diligent in documenting the journey of my own conscious healing. And yet I was still dealing with the fallout of all the pain from the summer one year prior to that time. Learning about 'complex PTSD' certainly was difficult. I could easily see myself writ large in the content I read.

The sadness I (often unconsciously) carried around for so many years of my life (beginning at the age of nine) began to decisively lift early this year. This is quite an accomplishment. Considering that I essentially walked about the world with a health condition that had never been successfully (ie fully) treated for some three decades (despite previous forays into therapy) it's quite an accomplishment to decisively heal in a mere two years. Indeed, I got quite a return on my investment of time slogging through the darkest of my memories.

Some would contend that sadness and depression are two words that essentially describe the same phenomenon. I would disagree. I believe there is a fine but nonetheless critical distinction between the two. Sadness is a normal experience every human can expect to experience at some point in life because sadness is so intimately bound up in loss. And we will all experience loss at some point in our life journeys.

I believe depression is a somewhat different matter. Depression is not something I think we are wise to expect that every human being will experience. Many will however. When sadness goes untreated for a long period of time I believe it can metaphorically metastasize into something as heavy and unwieldy as depression. In that sense depression is like sadness gone very, very bad. Think of something that has sat in your fridge for weeks and weeks past its expiration date. Such food is the equivalent of depression. When sadness festers for months or even years at a time it seems depression is almost inevitable.

Based on my own life history I have become convinced of the pressing need for the mental health community to develop a much greater understanding of what trauma is and how it affects people. Studies show there many millions of Americans who suffer from some mental health condition at any given time. And the more I have learned about trauma the more I have become convinced that trauma can compound existing issues and render individuals and even whole communities that much more vulnerable. I would like to see more local, state, federal and even international efforts to understand and prevent trauma. I believe the world would be a much better place if we made such a concerted effort.

Years ago, immediately after I completed my undergraduate degree, I took a significant detour and tried out the world of religious life. Looking back it now seems so strange that I did. Though I didn't remain in the religious order I was once a member of (for nearly three years) some of the experiences I had during that time have remained with me in the intervening time. I remember my encounters with so many different types of people. I worked with many populations of people who often go unserved or underserved. And one population among them was young people.

Imagining a real career working with a younger population of people has come as something of a surprise. And yet I am not the person I was two years ago. I am a much stronger, more resilient, more unshakeable person. I have a well placed confidence in my skills and capacities.

A whole new world is opening up now.

The Perditions of Power

Monday, August 31, 2015


Ten years ago today the world bore witness to the catastrophe of Hurricane Katrina. I recall the horror I felt in the days immediately prior to the storm's landfall as it became increasingly clear that New Orleans lay in the path of the monstrous storm. I can also still recall one of the National Weather Service forecasters describing the storm's imminent arrival as New Orleans having "a date with destiny". But it was a destiny made all the more catastrophic by human error. And of course the hubris of the George Bush administration only compounded the suffering of so many.

Former "President" George W. Bush was recently in the news as coverage of the ten year anniversary of Katrina's destructive landfill in New Orleans. It was difficult for me not to develop a sick stomach as I read some of the media coverage. Rewriting history to suit your own narrative of events is not an unusual tactic employed by those seeking to maintain their power. Put more succinctly: 'History is written by the winners.' Indeed it is.

The passage of ten years' time has undoubtedly softened the memories of some. But the anger and contempt directed at George W. Bush can still be discerned in the comments made on one New York Times article focused on Bush's visit to New Orleans. I remember "news" sources such as Fox News employing their typical conservative lens to essentially blame minorities and poor people for their failure to evacuate the city of New Orleans all the while conveniently forgetting the poverty that made it difficult (if not impossible) to do so. The "blaming the victim" approach can go a long way in conservative circles.

I bring up the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, the tragic response of the George W. Bush administration and the efforts of Bush's "handlers" to gloss over the horror of that tragedy as but one example of a phenomenon that has long revolted me. When those in power make colossal errors they may enjoy the benefit of others looking past these errors (or even revising events later on when accounts of past history are composed as a means of unjustifiably improving the legacy of such individuals). This "forgiveness" of past appalling malfeasance is a gift more likely to be available to wealthy, old white men who have lived lives of privilege compared to others. They can be easily insulated from the horrible consequences of their errors, stupidity and indifference.

It's the insulation available by those possessing immense power that I find truly revolting. Why? Because insulating people from the consequences of their mistakes, lies and hubris appears to be a very effective way to lead them down the path to making even more colossal mistakes later and even, perhaps, eventually becoming monsters, psychopaths and the like. I sense George W. Bush has little clue how destructive his Presidency was. How could he? With the likes of people such as Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld close to him how could he have an objective view of his destructiveness? Such can be the distortion wrought by wealth and political privilege. When Bush left office in January 2009 our national economy was essentially in a state of chaos and virtual free fall. Way to go Georgie!

Wealth and power may be misused to harm whole groups of people. This theme runs throughout so much of human history. And with income inequality in the United States becoming an increasing concern I can only wonder what coming years in the United States may feature.

I'll write more about this later this week.

The Lives of Armchair Warriors

Saturday, August 29, 2015


Have you ever known an armchair warrior? Let me define that term for you. When I speak of an "armchair warrior" I speak of people who have plenty of energy to criticize the state of affairs in their local community, state or nation but will not lift a finger to actually go out into the world and try to  make the world a better place.

Over the course of the last sixteen months I have had a friend here in Minnesota who has a tendency to heap voluminous amounts of criticism upon the Republican party here in the United States. One way he does this is to post articles and comments on Facebook. I don't disagree with the critiques he has made about that political party. I personally believe that the political culture in the United States has become highly even dangerously dysfunctional. One only need look at the continuing problem of gun violence in the United States as one example of an issue eluding some degree of healthy attention due in part to our dysfunctional politics at the federal level. I further agree with his opinion that the Republican party carries much responsibility for our current state of national dis-ease.

Yet I differ with this person regarding what the appropriate ways of dealing with personal and collective disgust and disenfranchisement are. Sitting in your armchair at home and writing about all that is wrong with the world and yet not doing anything to try to improve the world strikes me as being very satisfying in the short term but completely useless in the long term. This is not unlike sitting and looking at a green wall and blaming it for being green but never being willing to get off your butt, go to the store, pick out a new paint color and repaint the wall. Contemplation and observation alone will not solve our entrenched issues. I tend to believe we need to apply a blend of action and thoughtful contemplation if we are to truly make the world a more just place.

I think it can become easy to fall into the role of an armchair warrior when you pursue writing. It is a hazard inherent to the profession of writing. Observing the world around you and yet refraining from participating in that world can be a very safe way to live. Writing about what we see unfolding around us can certainly be impactful. And I still believe this even in today's America in which quality journalism has become a lost art. But if we don't get up off our butts and actually work to change the world around us I believe we are more likely to be swallowed by the issues that plague our society.

I severed my Facebook connection with my friend recently. I grew so weary of seeing the prolific amount of distress he has about the state of our national politics and watching him simultaneously do nothing substantial (as far as I know) about it. I still consider him a friend. But loyalty has its limits. When a person is in pain and that person refuses to seek a healthy way to relieve the pain there is nothing anyone else can necessarily do to change that person's course of action.

You can't compel people to change. But you can be an example to others by the life you yourself live.

Holding Strong

Friday, August 28, 2015


Today is one of those days when I feel as if I can taste the bad days of 2013 all over again.

I went to the Abbott Hospital campus this morning to get my left knee examined. Those that know me well know that Abbott Hospital and its surroundings are a familiar part of my recent 'psychic geography'. I went to an outpatient treatment program at Abbott Hospital in November 2013. Though that time in my life now feels like ancient history the painful memories of that time in my life sometimes  come to the forefront of my conscious awareness when I visit that part of Minneapolis. It's very easy to remember times like the day from the summer of 2013 when I broke down in tears while going to what at the time seemed like an endless sequence of medical appointments. I had a lot of fear and anxiety coursing through me at the time. I didn't know what was amiss in me. But I did know I did not feel good. And it turned out a lot was off in my life.

Twenty-five months have passed since those trying days. I feel much better now. In fact I am well enough now that I was able to contemplate successfully transitioning off sertraline just last month. In the first weeks after I completely titrated off the medication I had what I considered some minor withdrawal symptoms. I experienced a few episodes of minor dizziness. I also experienced an unfamiliar sensation in my head; it felt as if the space between the cells in my brain was expanding. Does that sound bizarre or impossible? Perhaps it does. But that was the best way I could put words to the sensation.

Yet despite my immense improvement compared to this time two years ago I still have moments when I feel extremely vulnerable. And I experience these moments much more often than I would like to. Yet it seems to me this isn't unusual considering how my life is still (hopefully) arcing in the direction of improvement. But when I read of events in the world at large I feel exasperation and anxiety. Indeed, reading the daily newspaper seems like a virtual act of courage these days. Whether it's news of Republican candidates being called terrorists, George W. Bush having the incredible nerve to make an appearance on the 10th anniversary of the devastation of New Orleans by Hurricane Katrina, the massive refugee problem in Europe or the latest sad gun violence tragedy in America I can't help but wonder what world we are throttling towards. What kind of world are we creating?

I used the word vulnerability because I think it is a word that aptly describes the quality of the intersection of many individual American citizens' lives and our society at large. With issues such as growing income inequality, the issue of persistent gun violence (which I personally believe eludes resolution to the complexity of the problem) and an incredibly unproductive Congress is it any wonder that many Americans would feel anxious about their individual futures as well as the future of this nation?

As for myself I feel a bit inclined to hide for the rest of today. Being required to be perpetually strong in the face of grinding challenges can be debilitating over a long period of time. Knowing this and given my early personal history it no longer surprises me that on a warm June day in 2013 I was given a diagnosis of PTSD. As I noted above I feel much better today as compared to two years ago. But there are many days when I am not encouraged by how I see many of the adults of our world behaving.

Life Imitating Art Imitating Life Imitating Art Imitating...

Wednesday, August 26, 2015


Living in the United States sometimes feels akin to being permanently trapped in a realm like that featured in Alice in Wonderland. Only here in America "wonder" is not something I would use to describe so much of our land. Words such as violence, greed and apathy seem more fitting.

I do think is is a wonder more Americans haven't become expatriates as the issue of gun violence continues to defy a healthy response here in this nation. The latest incredibly sad story of two young lives cut down can be found here. Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times quotes some statistics I am already, sadly, familiar with. While the statistics are compelling I can't help but wonder if many Americans have "statistics fatigue" regarding the issue of gun violence. When does throwing more numbers at the public stop doing any good? It seems we reached that point long ago.

Another person will likely die from gun violence in the time it takes me to complete this posting. It happens basically four times an hour. When you wake up after a restful night of sleeping eight hours approximately thirty-two people will have died. That's something like wiping out one side of an entire street in a residential neighborhood. Sad isn't it?

We Americans all too often "solve" our problems with alienation and anger through the use of violence. And yet such a course of action doesn't solve anything. Instead we are left with more grieving families and more scarred hearts. The pain seems to unnaturally compound something like a bank account accruing interest at some astronomical rate because a bank official input the wrong value in a box in an online account. Such is life in America in 2015.

I don't really know what more can be said about this issue. I feel immense sadness every time I contemplate it.

My own life is quite pleasant as of late. I have settled into my new home and feel comfortable and safe here. Many Americans cannot say that about their home lives. I have sufficient means to live each day free from want. Too many children go hungry each day in this nation billed as "the greatest nation in the world". My health is relatively good now. I am also fortunate in that regard.

I sometimes still feel a bit stuck when I write in my blog. As I have recounted many times already I reached a definitive point of departure some time ago. In shedding the vestiges of a traumatized psyche a person in search of deep personal healing may experience something like a rebirth. I know I have felt that way.

What is next?

That Feeling of Devastation

Monday, August 24, 2015


"Only by facing our feelings do we learn and grow. Pain has a size and a shape, a beginning and an end. It takes over only when not allowed its voice." - Anne Brener


I have become increasingly convinced that many people who attempt to function let alone thrive in American culture face an uphill battle. There are many factors that I believe contribute to this reality. One of those factors is the unreasonable expectations we place upon ourselves and others to live at a virtually breakneck pace. I was reminded of this when reading a recent article in the New York Times. It can be fun to live a fast paced life and push our limits. It can be fun to push ourselves to reach grand visions and possibilities. And yet grief has something to tell us as well. Grief, I think, teaches us to slow down. Grief can become a wall when too long denied.

The article, entitled "A Grief So Deep It Won't Die", explores the difficult issue of people whose grief lingers or is so deep that it may begin to hinder normal daily functioning for a long period of time. As I read through the article I could feel elements of my own life journey writ large in its content. One woman, named Anne Schomaker, took care of her husband for the last eight years of his life. Her experience as documented in the article gives evidence to the idea that appearances are not always indicative of what a person is actually feeling. Indeed, there are many people who appear entirely functional who are nonetheless dealing with immense pain and grief. A person may be active in his local community and social circles and nonetheless feel virtually haunted by loss. And some of these losses may have occurred years ago.

Grief is a natural human experience. The article notes that "the death of someone beloved often brings deep sadness. Usually, however, the intense grief of early mourning begins to ebb as months pass, and people alternate between continuing sorrow and a growing ability to rediscover life's pleasures." This brief sketch of a normal trajectory of grieving seems quite accurate.

I have noticed I myself have reached a stage where joy and pleasure are now, thankfully, a more common experience of my daily life. I have written about this in more recent entries in my blog. And yet the shadow of grief can be long and deep. When grief endures an especially long time some might describe it as complicated grief. It appears that prolonged grief (which may be used interchangeably for complicated grief) is likely to be more common in older individuals. Why? Older people are likely to be experiencing losses that are both more immense and more frequent as compared to younger people. And this makes perfect sense. This is an inherent aspect of becoming older. People become sick and die. Others move away.

The article offers the additional insight that prolonged grief "appears more likely when a death is sudden or violent; when the person who died was one's spouse, romantic partner or child; and when the bereaved person has a history of depression, anxiety or substance abuse." Written in my own words I would rephrase it this way: Some losses are more painful than others. The closer a person is to us the more devastating the loss of that person can be. And it is my opinion (not borne out by any extensive research I have done on the issue...because I haven't) that the earlier a significant loss occurs in the life of a child the more likely that loss will be felt acutely and for a prolonged time. I make that conclusion based on my own personal experience. Nearly losing both of my parents before I turned nine was quite devastating. In some way I am still working through the subtle aftereffects of the first ten years of my life.

The article goes on to discuss the potential implications of pathologizing protracted grief. Yet whether the American Psychiatric Association ultimately chooses to describe complicated grief as a mental disorder is, in one sense, an academic matter. Regardless of what lay people or mental health professionals call it there is an already existing reality that many people out in the world suffer from grief for years at a time. I know because I was one of them.

I may never see my birthmother again. The idea of this pains me. I may never see my father again. And despite the fact that I am not on good terms with him (and do not expect to be in the future) the idea of this pains me as well. Besides older people I think it only natural that children who experience significant loss when they are quite small are more likely to be profoundly impacted by that loss as compared to healthy adults in the prime of their lives. Why? Children are less likely to be able to bring something to bear on their experiences that adults can. Adults can bring perspective to their challenges, frustrations and losses. How can a child of five do that?

I actually found it consoling to read the article I have referenced. I realize prolonged grief isn't such an unusual experience among my fellow humans. Yet just because something is normal or common doesn't mean it is healthy. If you carry intense grief regarding a loss from many years ago it's a wise choice to see your doctor. Sadness is normal. Completely vanishing from the world of other people (family, friends, neighbors) outside the walls of your home for a decade is quite a different matter.

I generally feel encouraged about my life now. Some twenty-six months after the disruptive events of June, 2013 redirected the course of my life I still have days when I feel, well, devastated. Yes, I will use that word. But such depth of pain usually only steals upon me when I allow myself to spend too much time thinking about some of the people who crossed my path in the last three years whom I wish I had never met. I have learned the painful lesson of the value of gradually allowing people to enter your life....by doing quite the opposite. There are some days when that time twenty-six months ago feels like an eternity. And yet other days that time seems like yesterday. I can almost recall how the air smelled the day I found myself crying in Abbott Hospital in the summer of 2013 when I was getting yet another test and all the while feeling frightened by not (yet) knowing what was wrong with me. Pain and time have a strange interrelationship.

Do some people never recover from the losses they endure? The article I have referenced argues in the affirmative. I suppose this must be true. I have encountered strangers on public transportation and in other settings whose faces have such an utter blankness about them that I can only imagine what sad experiences they have endured in their own life histories.

And yet I must believe that healing is possible and can appear as unexpectedly as flowers blooming outside in the midst of a Minnesota winter. Healing can find us if we allow it in. The painful burn of a heart and spirit healing from the darkness of loss (whose contours we will all inevitably come to know) can be agonizing. And yet I have to believe the pain we may feel in reaching out in hope for a brighter tomorrow is preferable to the pain of isolation, fear and daily unquenched yearning for that which has left us.

I believe we have the choice to heal or die, to grow or wither. The journey may be long and arduous but the nectar of joyfully experiencing a beautiful moment can make years of personal effort melt from our minds and hearts and seem a mere instant. Joy, like pain, does an interesting dance with time.

Onward.

The Next Level...of Super Mario Brothers

Friday, August 21, 2015

I have been feeling a bit bored writing my blog lately. It has been obvious for several months now that I reached a new reality in my life earlier this year. With so much time having passed since I began writing this blog it was only a natural part of my own evolution that I should reach what I have previously described as a point of departure.

Earlier today I had a productive discussion with a member of the career services team at what is now known as the Middlebury Institute of International Studies at Monterey. I am finally dedicating time to actively visualizing what I want the next step in my career to be. It's actually an exciting time to be me.

That Moment of Imminent Departure

Wednesday, August 19, 2015


I discovered a website today that allowed me to take many mental excursions to the distant past. By that I mean I found a website that allows me to look up background information on any individual I want to learn more about. All I need is sufficient information (a name and location) and this site can look up any number of aspects of a person's background including information about address and employment history, criminal records and so on. It's actually a bit surreal how much information can now be easily found using a simple website. The days of easily separating your private and public lives are long gone.

I actually managed to (supposedly) find the current address and phone number of a boyfriend I had twenty years ago. Yes...twenty years ago. I am debating calling him just to tell him I harbor no difficult feelings about our history together. Our relationship did not end well. He tried to commit suicide after we had gone our separate ways. He then later attempted to heap blame on me for the state of mind he was in at the time that led him to nearly kill himself. It wasn't a pretty time.

Looking up people who were significant to me in my distant past was a bit of a surreal exercise. It only more firmly convinced me that I need to live in the present moment, leave all the pain behind me and reach for a much more dazzling future that really and truly can (still) be mine...if only I will reach for it.

As the last days of summer arrive and pass by and I contemplate the coming of autumn I feel myself finally feeling really to embrace the amazing possibilities that can still be in my future.

It's time to move on.

Really and truly...it's time to move on.

Tears Of Joy and Sadness

Sunday, August 16, 2015


I have not written as regularly in my blog the last two months as I originally imagined I would do back at the beginning of this year. I have felt a bit overwhelmed the last several weeks. I have experienced so much positive change.

A little earlier I was enjoying the comfort of the living room sofa while listening to the purring of my landlord's cat. I suppose it was the combination of the affection of the cat and my own reminiscing about all the different directions my life could have gone that prompted the floodgates to open. I found myself welling up with tears and needing to cry. As the tears ran down my face I could feel an immense sense of relief.

I still have my moments when I find myself wishing I had discovered the life changing experience of EMDR therapy (and the shamanic journeying I did in 2013) years and years ago. Discovering these gifts after many years of my own adult life have already passed is a bit like steering a ship in one direction only to suddenly be thrown sharply off course. When you have been moving in one direction for a long time the shock of being re-directed can itself almost feel a bit...traumatizing.

Those moments of wistful sadness are growing fewer as time passes. But I still have them. I still feel that immense heaviness of what could have been on occasion. And when those moments do arise I can feel almost suffocated by the heaviness of them. Sometimes I have felt that so much of my life was...a lie. To have not seen and experienced the world in a clear way for so many years as I did was an immense tragedy. Yes, tragedy seems to be the proper word. Tragedy conveys such heavy, life-changing, dark imagery. But I believe it is correct to call what I endured tragic.

What my therapist termed "trauma resolution work" is something that belongs decidedly to my earlier life history. I have done that work. That phase of my journey was replaced by what could be called an adaptation phase. I am now adapting to the full ramifications of the life changing consequences of the treatment I sought out.

Over the last six weeks I have:

• completely titrated off the medication I was using to support what I came to describe as my "healing odyssey"
• left behind a less than optimal living environment for a much better one
• started a new and demanding job

When put together these changes represent an immense shift in my life.

I feel so sad for the person I might have been by this point in my life. But I also feel joy and hope for the person I can still be.

A Seriousness That Didn't Always Serve

Friday, August 14, 2015


So today I was what some might consider a boring, responsible adult. I went to my job and was diligent. I continued preparing my living space to comfortably settle into. I even did my laundry. I suppose I sound like a man who has no social life whatsoever. I'm simply taking a breather and continuing to focus on myself.

My life feels as if it has dramatically accelerated in the last two weeks. I still find myself adjusting to all the change. I come home at the end of a workday and feel quite tired. I know the changes have caused some of my fatigue. But I also know I am tired out by a seriousness I carried throughout my life that didn't always serve me well. I need to be a different person now.

With my birthday coming on this very day of the month next month I find myself imagining what I want the next year of my life to be like. I want to have more fun.

Dancing In A Tornado

Wednesday, August 12, 2015


It's nearly 9 pm now and I don't feel like writing. I am wiped out from another day of putting my best foot forward as I climb that intensely vertical section of the learning curve not uncommon to the first weeks of time in a new job. I am enjoying my work so far. And I feel I ought to be grateful for that. And I am. But I feel exhausted!

I went to see my therapist yesterday. Therapy itself sometimes feels a bit boring now. It's not that I don't  still have challenges to deal with in my life now. I certainly still do. But the time of getting into the heart of what burdened my heart and mind is long past. What stands before me now is the longer term process of creating and living a life that I actually want to awaken to each day.

I went to see my podiatrist today. Of all the things that cause my anxiety level to increase the condition of my feet ranks high among them. My feet still don't feel quite right. I was on a course of prednisone twice in the last nine months. My podiatrist doesn't want to put me back on medication a third time. And I certainly don't want to take that route either. So my podiatrist chose to make a minor alteration to one of my orthotics as a way of testing how much the quality of the orthotics may be affecting my feet. So I get to deal with this issue as it continues to evolve. Oh joy!

It's the height of summer right now. And it certainly feels like it. It's difficult for me to not break into a sweat as I walk the short distance from my train to my place of work each morning. But I know the heat of summer is a very fleeting thing here in Minnesota. In a mere three weeks it will be September. And unlike the American South autumn doesn't hesitate to announce itself here in Minnesota. The leaves will be changing on the trees very soon.


I generally feel good about how my life is evolving now. I feel that I lost more than enough time mired in painful rumination about my early life history. My sadness regarding the estrangement I experienced with my paternal family of origin may never completely disappear. It may simply be something I must learn to live with. And I can do that. I have lived with the sadness for decades. But through the experience of psychotherapy (and more specifically the healing made possible by EMDR therapy and shamanic journeying) I gave myself the gift of conscious release from the burden I had been carrying around.

Life these days sometimes feels something like dancing in a tornado. It's an eventful journey I am on.

Poverty in America

Monday, August 10, 2015

Today was my fourth day working for my AmeriCorps site. My adjustment seems to be going fairly well. There have been moments when I have felt a bit overwhelmed. But such feelings are not at all unusual when a person is beginning a new job. I have the added feature of a new home environment. A lot has changed for me in the last two weeks. Indeed, there have been so many positive developments I have caught myself feeling amazed that all the manifesting changes are really happening!

As I adjust to a living allowance on par with the poverty level as defined by the federal government I have found myself reflecting on ways to define poverty. What exactly does poverty look, sound, smell and feel like? Here are some of my thoughts:

Poverty is...

the experience of having a treatable illness that nonetheless progresses because your health insurance is sufficiently comprehensive or generous enough to cover it. So you get to watch your health decline over the years despite your best efforts to be healthy.

that moment when the last remaining vital industry closes down in your town and is then off-shored to another country (so the wealthy few at the top of the company hierarchy can enjoy wealth unlike anything a vast majority of employees will ever experience).

moving hundreds or even thousands of miles across country in the hope of finding better work...and in the process leaving everything you know behind you.

missing the funeral of a loved one because you can't even afford the plane ticket to go to it.

being really tired at the end of your work day and feeling relieved that you don't have to go grocery shopping that night. And yet you will have to go shopping soon because you are low on food.

repurposing items from your wardrobe because it's been years since you bought new clothes for yourself.

marveling at how some people have enough money for pets when you hardly have enough money for food for yourself.

feeling unappreciated in your community to such a degree that you consider moving to a different place where there is more human capital similar to you.

not wanting to look for work anymore because your efforts over the course of years have not produced the results you want. And you also feel disgusted by the constant insistence that the economy is improving while all the while not seeing any real evidence in your local community.

lacking stable parents when you were a child and thus being unable to remember the joy of genuinely stable relationships in the earliest years of your life.

visiting other cultures, such as Native Americans living on their respective reservations, and seeing what massive unemployment, alcoholism, domestic violence and the like can do to an entire culture.

having enough money to eat for the day but no job, no real prospects of a decent job and feeling confused all the while that the decisions you are making are actually good ones.

watching the infrastructure of your nation disintegrate around you but not having the means to do much about it because you are yourself engaged in a difficult and long process of trying to hold on to what little you have.

fearing the people who make up the influential institutions in your community.

living near poisoned land or water and not having sufficient political clout to change these circumstances.

In short, poverty is a burden all too many people bear.

The Challenge of Poverty

Wednesday, August 5, 2015


Today was my first day serving as a member of the St. Paul AmeriCorps VISTA program. It was probably one of my best first day experiences on a new job. I feel enthusiastic about the coming twelve months and the opportunities that will come with the experience.

I met with my therapist this evening. I plan to continue seeing him over the next year. I have transitioned to what I would call maintenance care. It's time to build true resilience into my life. I will write more about the shift in my focus in the next few days.

Those Chances That Come Around Once...

Sunday, August 2, 2015


So I have moved since I last wrote in my blog. And tomorrow I will begin my first full week with AmeriCorps. I am finally moving in a very positive and new direction. And I have felt that this new direction could not come a moment too soon. As I become more active and once again demand more of myself (both personally and professionally) I sometimes feel the immense weight of all the time that has passed these last two years. It has been over two years since I began chronicling my journey here online.

I find myself pondering opportunities that might never appear (again) in my life. I am so aware of the precious gift of time. There is so much I wish to experience. And yet I am aware that one of the seemingly inevitable consequences of living for a certain amount of time is my heightened awareness of the finitude of human life. There will be only so many sunrises and sunsets for me to enjoy. I might meet people once and then never meet them again. It seems to me the likelihood that a person will radically and consciously change the direction of his life diminishes as the years pass. We can become comfortable in both our good and bad circumstances. Change can be both scary and exhilarating.

It's been three weeks since I stopped taking sertraline. I still continue to feel quite good. My therapist has also been away on summer vacation. I will see him again this coming week. But the edgy quality of my early work with him is long gone now. The gripping grief is also something that has faded away. I suppose we eventually can adapt to painful loss. We inevitably have to because life goes on and carries us forward to witness another sunrise...and sunset.

The birthday I will celebrate in about six weeks' time will be the first one I celebrate in which the issues of my early life history no longer hold such a strong claim on my psyche. This is wondrous. And I feel quite happy I have achieved this milestone. There is still within me the grief that I did not experience this freedom earlier in my life. Indeed, I have caught myself wondering who I could have been had I discovered EMDR treatment ten or even a mere five years ago. My life might be much better than it is now. But then I often counter such needless rumination by allowing myself to remember that I did (eventually) discover this treatment, that I did go to therapy essentially one hundred consecutive weeks and worked with immense determination to remove the yoke of pain from my early life history and that I did do all this work with essentially no support from my family of origin. This is by no means a minor victory.

I am actually looking forward to tomorrow.

I am actually looking forward to Monday.

I am looking forward to the future of my own life.

Shimmering Beauty

Thursday, July 30, 2015

I know I have written about it on many occasions here in my blog but it's difficult to resist continuing to express my joy and awe at how vivid and crisp the world appears to me. Having clear vision is a truly wonderful gift. So many people do not enjoy the gift of clear vision.

My AmeriCorps pre-service orientation training ends tomorrow morning. The training will be concluded by a ceremony in which new members take an oath of service. My first day on-site with my host organization will be next Wednesday.

While enjoying the beauty of the clear sky and low humidity earlier today I noticed myself thinking about what it must have been like when Lewis and Clark reached the Pacific Ocean. Did the anticipation of the beauty and breadth of seeing this largest of the world's oceans drive them on day after day? Beauty can motivate us to do many things.

And Now For A Detour

Tuesday, July 28, 2015


I have heard a joke in the time I have lived in Minnesota that there are essentially only two seasons here in Minnesota. Those seasons are winter and construction. It seems this summer has been an especially bad 'construction season'. I don't recall there being quite so many road work related signs, torn up streets and the like as I have seen this warm season. The word 'detour' seems a natural part of the urban lexicon here in Minnesota.

I am taking my own professional detour as of today. Today was the beginning of my AmeriCorps PSO (pre-service orientation). We received a handbook that serves as a guide for the next three days. I found some interesting resources listed inside to stimulate a discussion on the topic of poverty. I have previously written about poverty here in my blog. In particular I have written about the relationship between poverty and wealth, how trauma may influence our choices, the interrelationship between poverty, trauma and disenfranchisement and the challenge of overcoming hardship with less than optimal resources. It's relatively easy to talk about poverty these days in America because it's becoming a concern among a growing percentage of Americans. You can see this concern evidenced in some of the coverage regarding the 2016 presidential election.

So what is poverty? How do you define it? Do you customarily think of poverty in strictly or primarily monetary terms? Or is poverty something much more complex and thus more difficult to alleviate? Do you think about poverty in terms of relationships? For example, if you were offered a great job in another city or far distant from where you live (or have ever lived) would you consider taking it? What measures would you use to assess the value of such an opportunity? In other words, how would you determine its worth? What about relationships? How important are quality relationships to you? Do you consider yourself impoverished if your life is devoid of meaningful, mutually enhancing relationships? And how does health intersect with poverty? What priority does your health have? How can you even enjoy the access and other benefits of being a wealthy person if you lack the health to enjoy it?


When I personally think about poverty and my own life I have some of the following thoughts:

• I find myself easily wishing I had discovered EMDR earlier in my life. Had this happened I might have taken a very different course with my life. But then again I can still potentially do that.

• I wonder if I will actually see my birthmother alive again. My parents are reaching that age when I might be able to easily count the number of times I can realistically expect to see them on one or both hands.

• I wonder if I will ever have a measure of financial security.

• I think about how my desire for greater financial success may ultimately impact my ability to achieve other goals. Relationships are becoming more meaningful to me. It has thus become more natural for me to ponder how professional decisions may impact my personal life.

• I wonder if the United States of America is going to continue sliding in the direction of being a "Third World" nation. As I consider this possibility I am simultaneously aware that the term "Third World" tends to have a pejorative connotation that I don't much care for. Because happiness isn't completely determined by wealth and access to opportunity I do believe it's possible to be content anywhere on the planet.

• I am grateful for my health insurance. Had I not had the insurance I have carried the last two years I might have found myself utterly destitute at one point. My health has become immensely valuable to me.

I haven't written much in my blog lately. I haven't felt that motivated partly because I see and feel the need to change the focus of my ongoing writing journey. Something new is coming to be. I am excited by what is coming into being in my life!

I might take a new turn and start more deeply exploring the topic of the interrelationship of poverty and trauma.

A Remembrance of Things Past

Sunday, July 26, 2015


Yesterday was the anniversary of the passing of my paternal grandmother. It's been twenty-two years since my grandmother passed away.

I thought of my grandmother this past Friday when I was in downtown Minneapolis. I took some strawberries to work with me as a snack. After work I found myself briefly visiting St. Olaf Catholic Church. I was bored while waiting for the bus so I decided to hide inside a place that had both air-conditioning as well as some artistic beauty. The backdrop of the quiet sanctuary as well as my strawberries got me to thinking of this time I picked strawberries with my grandmother when I was a small boy. I can remember I enjoyed it quite a bit. I also remember learning that my grandfather tended to pick only those berries he could easily see. He would thus leave many berries unpicked.

I wish my grandparents had lived longer so they could have been a part of my life in my adulthood. All my grandparents had passed away before I turned twenty-one years old. Some people are fortunate to have their grandparents be a part of their lives well into their adulthoods. I still miss my grandmother. It's a little strange to me that I have now lived more of my life without her in my life than I did with her. Time can pass so quickly.

Tonight, while walking outside, I found myself recalling the warm, humid nights common in the South in the summer. It was that warm here in Minnesota tonight. I appreciated that I need to move on and spend less time recalling what I did not do in the past. Regret and sadness is not something to fill the mind and heart with.

I feel myself very much moving on now. It's been quite a process to reach this point of departure. But I feel myself finally and deeply ready to begin a new phase in my life.

Take a Chance...While You Can

Wednesday, July 22, 2015


My mother just had her birthday. She is in her late sixties now. I sent her a birthday card last week. I wonder if I will ever see her again. When I consider the very real possibility that I will never see her again it gives me pause to ponder the ephemeral quality of life.

There are times in life when an opportunity comes along only once. In fact this may be the norm rather than the exception. I have been reflecting on the reality of opportunities lately as I plan to take my next step forward and begin working as an AmeriCorps servicemember next week. I am already thinking beyond the next twelve months. I believe this is a wise strategy considering I already have a lengthy professional history.

As the sky darkens outside on this late July evening I am aware of the many possibilities I never pursued as well as the possibilities that still remain. I suppose this is still more evidence that I am truly now in the second half of my life.

The Lifting of a Cloud

Sunday, July 19, 2015


Something inside me has finally shifted. A fundamental transformation of who I am seems to have reached a crucial milestone. I was aware of this internal shift throughout my day today.

While visiting the home of a friend (who hosted an anniversary party for a local club) I found myself unexpectedly marveling at the beauty of sunlight on water. This capacity to experience genuine wonder is something I would like to believe we are all imbued with by virtue of being human. Some of us are fortunate enough to have sufficiently safe, functional childhoods such that we can develop our capacity for curiosity and wonder in our earliest years. Some people are not so fortunate.

For those people like myself who fall into the latter category the discovery of experiencing unexpected wonder and joy later in life can be quite jarring. I know feeling joy in the experience of simple pleasures (such as the beauty of sunlight illuminating the world on a summer day) has often completely knocked me off kilter many times in the last two years. Feeling so present and carefree such that I could experience wonder has not been a real familiar experience. I don't think this is at all unusual if you have experienced an early life history that included feeling stalked by one of your own parents as I did.

In the nine days since I last took sertraline I have felt as if an immense cloud has been vaporizing. It feels different to experience the world from inside my own skull. And though I am skilled at writing and communicating I nonetheless struggle to articulate what it feels like to be me lately. It feels as if the very cells of my body are separating from one another. My inner world doesn't feel so...crowded. I have more space in my interior life. A crowd of sorrows is no longer consuming me. How normal can a person actually feel when a cloud of unhealed trauma that has long shadowed his life finally dissolves? I find myself asking that question a lot. Even after two years I still find myself asking that question.

During a walk I took late this afternoon I found myself consumed only with my appreciation of the present moment. I appreciated my ability to walk, the sunshine and wind on my face and the beauty of the green world around me.

A Quiet Saturday

Saturday, July 18, 2015


There was nothing especially remarkable about today. The withdrawal symptoms I seemed to have this past week have subsided. I went to the gym today. And in doing so I could tell how long it has been since I had regularly been going to the YMCA. It was nice to feel invigorated during and after my exercise.

I am going to continue writing my blog but it's clear the time has come for me to decisively change my focus. I am going to focus more extensively on current news stories and other topics that may have a connection with the issue of trauma in particular and health in general.

When You Fear Your Own Parents

Friday, July 17, 2015


Something happened today that reminded me of the hardship and fear that characterized all too much of my earliest years of life. My former landlord (2013) visited an online profile I have on a website. This is not the first time he has done so.

The back story on this man is a sad example of someone with poor boundaries. Given his behavior it is easy for me to speculate that he might even have a learning disability or a personality disorder. I met him not long after I moved to Minneapolis in 2012. He was (and perhaps still is) a member of the Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus. I (unwisely) trusted him due in part to his membership in this organization. In April, 2013 I became his tenant. I was unwise in that I failed to do any substantial background research on the man before I moved into his home. By the end of 2013 I found myself regretting my decision to place so much trust in the man. He essentially evicted me as what would prove to be the coldest winter in three decades was about to start here in the Twin Cities. And then I subsequently learned more details regarding his negligent care of his dogs.

The passage of sufficient time in combination with the extensive therapy I underwent allows me to see this past period of my life history in a clear and dispassionate way. I didn't do enough research on the man to ensure he would be a good landlord. I trusted that his membership in an organization I was briefly active in was sufficient testament to his character. I was quite mistaken. Despite my repeatedly expressed wishes that he completely leave me alone he has repeatedly visited one of my online profiles. So this evening I decided to take the next step. I reported him to the administrator of the website and requested that he be banned from the site. I am not sure when I will receive a reply to my message.

My old feelings of anger, resentment, outrage and, yes, even fear rose up inside me a few hours ago when I saw he had visited my profile yet again. His invasive behavior is disrespectful. And it reminds me of other people whom I have feared. His stalking behavior reminded me of the unhealthy behaviors of my biological parents.

As a result of this unexpected incident I found myself able to put very clear words to my feelings I had when I was a kid. There were times when I felt genuinely stalked by my mother. It's a horrible thing for a child to witness one of his own parents suffer a mental health breakdown. And it's even more tragic when that parent engages in self-destructive behavior that includes violence directed at a spouse, destruction of property and the unwelcome pursuit of a child. I witnessed all of these when I was a kid. I didn't feel safe throughout much of my childhood. This is a very real tragedy. Getting involved with untrustworthy people decades later is still more tragic.

Sometimes we make mistakes as a form of learning. I certainly have had this journey in my own life. Through repeatedly making mistakes based in living with poor boundaries I have learned how crucial healthy boundaries are. Sometimes we learn 'the hard way'.

I occasionally wish I could go back into my life history and change some of the choices I have made. Perhaps I would not find myself living as I am now. Perhaps I would not have plunged into a two year long period that positively buffeted my heart and mind. But here I am exiting that time and looking forward to a much brighter future. I have worked with immense diligence to reach this point. It's now been a week that I have once again been 'an unmedicated American'.

What happened this evening got me to thinking about the correlation between being stalked and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I did an initial google search and found some excellent resources on the subject. I will write more about this issue this weekend.

As for now I plan to focus on breathing and relaxing. I was very upset earlier this evening. Defending myself against chaos, violence and disrespectful behavior can be so demanding and exhausting.