Of course, the law doesn’t protect everyone. In fact, it’s more and more used to further injure the already vulnerable. Washington State just passed a law that made involuntary commitment to a psych ward much easier – now, you don’t need a court injunction. You just need a “concerned” family member willing to petition a judge. But no one’s talking about that. We’re not talking about the ethical concerns of some of the “treatment” we’re instructed to encourage our hurting friends to seek.
“You are loved,” “you are loved,” “you are loved,” you recite it like it’s Scripture
as you walk away to importance-filled dockets and pulpits and meetings to minister
and leave your words and the guilt of not believing them because I don’t feel them to loom.
“You are loved” – I wonder by whom. Continue reading People of the Steeple
Definitely been struggling with the work/life balance thing. I’m tired, I don’t feel like I have anything new or special or insightful to say (so think about how much that must suck if you know that God has confirmed more times than should be needed that you have the writing gift), and I’m more easily distracted than I’ve ever been in my life for some reason. My job is great – so good/such a fit, in fact, that I’m waiting for them to tell me this was all a joke. I’m not kidding – my anxiety seems to be turbo-charged lately, though it’s always been there. I’ve always been a “skinny anxious type” as an old friend used to call me. So I’m going to think and muse about that. Continue reading Anxiety Potatoes
It’s been acute for seven months and sustained for nearly three decades, but this flail’s now finally got a direction (I think). As I’ve been saying, I’m fairly sure that one aspect of my apparently welter-y calling is something in the amoeboid field of mental health. So allow me to point you to the new ‘page’ on my blog where I’ve been and will continue to be compiling interesting stuff accordingly. Checking it out somewhat regularly will keep you up to date if you’re so inclined. It will also help you get to know me a bit more, and my sharpening though still somewhat unclear angle on all this (I never was very good at geometry…). Anyway, check out the “Resources and Reading” tab above in the menu and do please, like, ask the questions and things. I make time for people. 🙂
I’ve been developing a list of movies that deal with mental health realities so you’re probably going to be seeing more of these little reviews. Released the same year as The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Silver Linings Playbook was a bit more of an ambiguous sell for me. Bradley Cooper plays a refreshingly honest and sort of hapless guy trying to put his life back together after a stay at a psych ward (not shown but alluded to), which he apparently landed in because of a single incident involving an understandably distressing event.
I’m inching closer to outwardly, rather than secretly, pursuing a long-held interest: the mental health field. I cringe to use the phrase because I think we need a better linguistic system to discuss these lived realities but for now, I’ve got to use the common vocab so everyone else will know what I’m talking about. Until very recently, I haven’t admitted to myself or anyone else that this is and has been a consistent draw for me throughout my life because, well, I didn’t trust myself. I have assumed my thoughts, ideas and desires needed constant scrutiny, refining and shaping – all from the outside, of course – since I was a child and it’s caused me to do so much out of fear. Continue reading Movie Review: The Perks of Being a Wallflower
By the time the celebrations were done and I finished writing this last night, it was too late to give it the mandatory once over. So here we are, a day later than usual. On my birthday last year, it seems I was thinking of people, then, too. I’ve got a lot of gems in my life. Despite my often captious interpretations and unwittingly specular – and unfiltered – observations. Despite my chronic, intractable belief that I am unlovable. Despite my hangups on who acknowledges my birthday and who doesn’t (even in the social media age). Despite my indefatigable social anxiety. Gems. Continue reading The Gratitude Time, Part 5
I don’t say this to be thrasonical about my perseverance but one, to connect with anyone else who’s done and so is familiar with the fatigue of the kind of vulnerability necessary when seeking counseling, a particular sort of soul bearing that just once can be serrating but since it, cruelly, can take more than one shot to find a good fit for a therapist and sometimes, more than a few sessions to know that you’ve found the right one for you, you’ve got to wash, wince, repeat the process, and two, to be thankful, that I, after several years and three attempts, finally have: Continue reading The Gratitude Time, Part 4
At 4 o’clock in the morning, all your stuff is monster-truck heavy and flashing-red important. Then, after the sun stops being polite – on days you get sun – and charges heavy like judgment into your room to rouse you, the existential weight of your to-do list trades places with your limbs and amounts to a paper towel. Which has as much self-locomoting power as you do about now, anxiety having gulped down all your validate-your-existence energy for the tasks of phone calls, folding socks, scanning and digitizing old journals and bloodletting…er, writing. Continue reading The Gratitude Time, Part 3
I erroneously believed as a kid that I was a free spirit. I wanted to be, but I was mostly just strong willed, which I say with intentional emphasis on “just.” Yes, I get that it’s difficult for parents, but the reason I wasn’t a free spirit is because I tried in protracted terror to be a good kid. And also, I find unnatural comfort in routine. In other words, I like to follow the rules and it’s harder to explain than following the rules gets me stuff I want. Actually, I spent January explaining how I was pissed that it doesn’t. Either way, though, there are worse things to be than committed to what you want…like not being able to commit to anything for example (was it Sylvia Plath who said, “Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.”)