Psychology

Psychology is such a judge-y discipline.Let me explain why I've come to these conclusions. There is a difference between recognizing unhealthy behavior in a family/relationship/person and simply subjectively judging the way a person/family/relationship is because it is different than your experience. There is often times a thin line between what is assessed as inappropriate and unhealthy vs unusual and unconventional (but not hurting anyone). When I was 10, I wanted to help people. My propensity for this came from seeing a lot of "issues" with my family. My dad, well-issues. My mom-ISSUES. In an effort to keep it brief one can summarize for themselves what that means. Seeing that these two people were "different" made me want to help them. In my 10 year old mind, by helping them I really just wanted them to be more like everybody else's parents. I wish my mom wore makeup, taught me girly things and wasn't paranoid. I wish my dad didn't smoke so much or say/do crass things. Altogether I wanted to help my family be better versions of themselves. Upon first reading, one might assume well there isn't anything wrong with wanting to help someone to be a better version of themselves. For anyone who  knew my parents personally one would absolutely agree with my thoughts on wanting to help them change. I also fully recognize that a person reading this might conclude that I am judging others or my parents and maybe they would be right.

So, FAST FORWARD 19 years. I am a licensed social worker. Soon to be clinically licensed. I have read countless articles, textbooks, I have endured endless conversations with my therapist, I have contributed to "ways of helping" in my graduate classes and I have given solid advice to friends who were in need. One might say I am an excellent example of an individual in the helping profession. Because at the heart of helping we want to reduce pain, we want to solve the problems, we want to be heros. So why is it that I have a nauseous feeling in my stomach whenever I think about "helping".

Skipping a few lines, I'd  like to point here that I am an anxious mess. I have ebbs and flows of confidence. I am a people pleaser. I am professionally silent when a patient yells or curses at me. I am cool under pressure. All of this, looks so neatly wrapped together in an effort to separate my self from my "crazy parents" and to be accepted. I follow the rules, I DO NOT MAKE WAVES. I say please and thank you.....I do favors and say "no prob". I allow people to make decisions for me and make statements about me that I may disagree with in an effort to avoid the discomfort of sharing my feelings and making it "awkward". I am also fully embarrassed to admit this about myself, because it makes me appear weak and I fear people will question my ability to engage in the profession, I fear (and frankly know) people will judge me.

All of this to say, I have done myself a great disservice in remaining silent. My effort to be "normal", has turned me into an emotionally challenged zombie. Because of this, I have moments of wanting to scream, JUST SCREAM, while walking the dog. I want to be rude to dog walkers and not say hi. I want to SING OUT LOUD and look crazy. I have emotions....but this effort to appear poised has smothered them and so has clouded my ability to express them and feel them fully. I don't know how to express my sadness without saying "I'm fine", I don't know how to express my anger without remaining calm. 

Returning to my conclusions about psychology, It isn't the fields' fault, Its what people-including myself- have turned it into. Psychology is synonymous with Orwellian perfection if we are not careful. We are not meant to be robotic. We are meant to feel and sometimes that means hurting other peoples feelings, making people feel uncomfortable, and welcoming judgement rather than trying to avoid it. It will happen anyway. So while psychology can benefit society by regulating to a degree-keeping people from killing, harming etc- we must be vigilant of its power in controlling our lives. 

I know I have fallen victim to it and am consciously aware of my slave-like restraint. Perhaps that is why I enjoy mood altering substances. I know that I judge and I am working on that. Likely if I can stop myself from being judge-y, trying to fix everything - that I in turn would be less people pleasing and less of a push over. I don't know the solution to the problem, I know that others (even the patients I see) feel this way. I feel helpless to defeat it. I have an idea of what needs to be done, but I am afraid. It is a daily task to break the routine of normalcy and to find a balance where I am still feeling true to myself, while keeping my wits about me. I am not sure that anyone has ever read this blog or ever will read it, but I want you to know that if you have felt or feel as I do, you are not the only one drowning. 

Chris Christie

Okay, short rant...promise.

The discharge planning and referral process for individuals in recovery from substance abuse is shit. Politicians seem to be in agreement with the idea that "we need to address this drug epidemic" but they fail the system and the people they are claiming to help by introducing them to a vicious cycle.

A person abusing a substance comes to the decision (one they are sometimes forced into) to seek help. They call a facility or two or twenty and are introduced to there first obstacle, The insurance question. And while we all hope to believe we each have equal opportunities for treatment, if your insurance is through the state, Medicaid/Medicare... you will likely find yourself being either turned away or forced to be included on long wait lists or told to seek state and county funding. One could imagine how dried up those resources are. Okay, so you finally find a place that accepts Medicaid/ or by some miraculous chance you are provided with state/county funding. You enter treatment. Detox is 3-5 days Short term Rehab 10-14. Residential you are looking at 28 days. Some long term facilities are 60-90 days. The rare possibility that one finds a 6 month to 9 month program...well congrats to you. There are so few programs that when a person leaves the initial detoxification, they are immediately thrown back to the wolves. They have no chance. Its a shitty thought....And so the cycle remains, the person seeks help, obtains brief relief and then back to the communities and environments that they sought to leave.

Awakening takes Work

When we are young we are taught to throw pennies into mall fountains, wish on shooting stars and "believe in the power of our dreams". I, myself am an early disciple of Disney Movie frivolity. All of this uncontrived intention with one glaring flaw...Wishes don't just come true... At least for me, I spend each moment wishing for a different body, family, income, job, hobbies the list goes on. The biggest thing that I don't do is try to engage in the "doing" that's so necessary a part of getting to or obtaining of the things I really want.  I want to be a photographer. I want to be a writer. I want people to read my writing and feel something from it. I want people to call me a wise sage with infinite wisdom. (egomaniac no?). I want to start a food critic blog called "RED" with my boyfriend. I want to purchase a boat (nothing fancy). I want to live near the shore or in the woods, not in New Jersey. I want to be fit. I want to give back. I want to write letters to politicians for the advocacy of the mentally ill. I want to have more money and travel more. I want to open up a coffee shop and source my coffee beans- by going to different countries and taste-test.  

I read a sentence from Moby Dick at 1am and asked my sleepy boyfriend to read it too- 

"Some years ago--never mind how long precisely--having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. When ever I find myself growing grim about the mouth;whenever it is a damp drizzly November in my soul;whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; an especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street and methodically knocking peoples hats off---then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball-----I quietly take...to.. the.. ship..." 

What a romantic few sentences. This idea of boredom with current circumstance, the necessity to pick up and go, has been and undetachable piece of my spirit....I look at my routine, what is, and how my wants are not lining up with what is, and I feel the urge to "quietly take to the ship". Said another way from a new favorite writer... Anais Nin-

"You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book, or you take a trip, and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom,death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. they work in offices. they drive a car. They picnic with there families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken"

Both of these quotes have to do with awakening..which equal parts frightens and motivates me. First comes the realization of dissatisfaction,boredom and then fear that It will always be this way. Second comes the excitement of possibility and the motivation to begin the work of expanding one's self.

So thats were I am....I gotta start writing, I gotta start taking pictures again. I gotta keep planning wonderful trips with my friend. 

Reading Plato

Plato, believed that we are dimmed versions of "Perfect Forms". We are imperfect replicas, that originated from a single set of Forms. When I think about beauty, in nature, in the human spirit, in growth, .....I always felt that, these versions, were only glimpses, only flickering lights, of a perfectness that existed somewhere....

Plato told a story of a group of shackled individuals in a dimly lit cave, illuminated only by a large fire behind them. These people could only see shadows of themselves and other images flickering on the wall..THIS was their reality. Most of the prisoners were unimaginative or apathetic and simply accepted this reality without speculation. The more inquiring minds observed patterns more clearly and tried to understand their world. Yet Truth eluded them. One of the prisoners breaks free from his shackles and escapes the cave, emerging into the light of day, blinded by is brightness, again only seeing a shadowy representation of reality. Over time, however, this person acclimates his senses to his surroundings and sees things more clearly: the landscape the sky, the sun's illumination.

We can choose to ignore it, but then, we will remain in the cave, only half living, only have knowing. Instead, we must seek out and experience the beauty, the truth, going deeper, asking harder questions and not being afraid of the answers.

10:22pm

Staring at the digital clock,working my eyes in and out of focus, 10:22pm… Watching the blinking light that keeps the seconds. You stare long enough to think you have control over the minute. But look again.. that minute has controlled you. What soothes you, what comforts you? What pets your head to tell you everything is going to be okay? In those moments, when, silence is the most deafening sound, when the thoughts reign supreme with in you, and become choreographed images projected in front of your eyes. Words, can’t explain that fear. It is a deep fear. The one people conveniently disguise as something treatable or something defined. A black hole of racing thoughts. I once thought, I could face the darkness, but I have found that its threshold is too powerful for me to go farther in. Too many unanswered questions, too many uncertainties. Zooming into focus, we live our lives as a series of thoughts and feelings. Change the thought, change the feeling. Life can’t be so black and white. Inviting the blur, I recognize a discomforting
shade of gray. This gray offers no answer, just another possibility. There are no answers.
How do you want to live your life?
Do you want to live the right life?
Do you want to live a life that you created?
Do you want to live a life that is governed by God?
Do you want to live your life for someone else?
Do you know what you want from life?
What is life?
Why are we here together?
Why are we even here?
Why do we have thoughts that cause us to think this way?
Why do we suffer?
Why isn’t life fair?
Why do we try to be even in an unfair world?

This is my love for you.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

My Hunter Fan

In the darkest closet, with every negative thought to keep me company. My heart no longer pumps red blood, just ash. The remnants of a heart once occupied, in the hollow cast i call, me. i hear nothing, i see nothing. i can no longer breathe. i can not feel. i do not exist. The pillow is cold. I reach out but i don't know what I'm reaching for, once filled with memories and thoughts, now lies a dusty shell. A sickness that never ceases.