Saturday, February 25, 2017

Surreal Days, Surreal Ways

If you are overwhelming sick of political babbling from me or anyone else, ask yourself why and then feel free to skip to the second section of this blog entry. I'm ranting about something else there. Doesn't mean you'll like that ranting any better but remember: you always have freedom and options in the Addiverse.

Remember: If you find yourself in political banter of which you do not want to be a part of, you can always say, "Hey! How 'bout them Cubs?" and the conversation will gloriously morph toward the World Series Champs. 
Works like a charm. 
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Article [I] Amendment 1 - Freedom of expression and religion) Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
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Okay, so correct me if I'm wrong. If the White House holds a press conference and deliberately--VERY intentionally, very much in retaliation--keeps certain media agencies out, is that not against the First Amendment? 

Wait--maybe I don't want you to correct me if I'm wrong
. Because I'M NOT WRONG. Take that, Alt-right and alternative fact lovers. I have had enough of you.

Everything seems surreal these days.
There are times in the day that I stop in my tracks and shake my head, trying to figure out if what appears to be happening is really happening.... or, maybe I stop in my tracks because I've burst out into a hot flash and have to pause to remove my sweater. Hard to say.

I've been using BBC news as my go-to news media, as they seem to fall somewhere in the middle of left and right. Guess who didn't get invited to the table yesterday? That's right, the BBC. I assume they weren't allowed into the press conference because they actually tell the truth. The truth is a whole lot of terrible for a guy who gets all his data and facts from neo-nazis (watered down to Alt-right so it doesn't sound racist) outlets and the ever-biased Fox News, all while lounging in his robe, lonely and bitterly, in the WH. I considered maybe 45 didn't want the BBC to be in attendance because they are foreigners, but the New York Times, Washington Post, LA times and a few other media agencies were locked out, too... so, that can't be the reason.

I might have semi-overlooked this unconstitutional-but-not-surprising-in-this-regime retaliatory action but when I learned that Breibart News, The Washington Times and One America News Network were in attendance, I almost blew a withering ovary right out my girl parts. 

Seriously. Google those three "news" outlets. Your ovaries will be spitting angry, too.

This is not normal. This cannot be our new normal.
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As for thoughts on mental illness, the issue of which I spoke about a few blogs ago continues. Suffice it to say it is almost surreal when listening to the people involved talk of mental illness. I hoped by now "we" wouldn't think of mental illness as those who are "psycho mass murderers." Having a mental illness isn't a weakness. And, yet the perception is that it is...a weakness, a failure, bad. People don't know what mental illness "is." Anxiety is fine.... it's not a mental illness.

What? Can you please say that again? Anxiety isn't a mental illness? The stigma and misconceptions in this particular situation is deafening. (By the time I'm off my mental health soap box, I'm going to need mental health treatment to resolve this anger. Or, maybe I need to eat more chocolate and talk about the Cubs.) As I said last time, I'm here to bust stigma--not judge. I feel awful for the family in question as they are laden in stigma. We in America really do a rotten job of educating people on mental illness.

Bear with me if I'm preaching to the choir here.

There seems to be a whole lot of confusion in regards to mental illness, both within the family facing a mental health crisis and in the general population. Let me openly acknowledge that when it comes to stigma, I'm all over busting it. To the stigma-laden, may I please educate thee:

Anxiety is a mental illness. It just doesn't sound as scary to hear "anxiety" as it is to hear you might have some "other" mental illness. Isn't easier to say, "I have anxiety" than "I have schizophrenia?" Of course it is. Anxiety is familiar. Anxiety is prevalent. Anxiety is understandable.

Say it with me: "Anxiety is a mental illness." It's okay. Really. Help me bust this stigma. 

"Anxiety Breakdown" is not an actual "thing" in the mental health world. I'm guessing that was a polite way for the family doctor to say "Nervous Breakdown." After all, having to tell a patient that he/she has mental illness isn't very fun. Doesn't telling the patient it was an "anxiety breakdown" sound more like "a touch of the flu" than anything scary? That's part of perpetuating stigma.

Problem is that "Nervous Breakdown" is technically not a diagnosis, either; rather, it is a description of symptoms related to the significant decompensation in mental health. Honestly, I'd bet dollar to donuts that we've all heard that someone has had a nervous breakdown. To me, it sounds like something that happened in the 1970's, leading to the rise of Valium. Stigma tells us "Nervous breakdown" is when someone completely falls apart--that's not mental illness.  

Side note: primary care physicians are usually NOT equipped to talk about mental illness. They probably had a short rotation through psychiatry while in med school and that was that. (Well, besides the education they get from drug reps. But, that's a whole 'nother topic.) So, call it a nervous breakdown and move along.

Delusional thinking can surface when someone is so anxious and so stressed that they literally lose touch with reality. Someone who believes that they are being followed, that people aren't who they say they are, that everyone is out to get them--they are experiencing psychosis. It doesn't mean it is a permanent way of thinking. It means right now the person is delusional. Stigma leads us to denying that a loved one can meet the criteria for psychosis. I can't blame them--it is brokenheartedly awful to see someone who happens to be delusional.

"Anxiety Psychosis" is a "real" thing, not that I'd ever use that term. A doctor telling a patient they have anxiety psychosis sounds REALLY scary and a whole lot like mental illness, so those words are not usually spoken. It's pointless to argue with a person with delusional thinking--after all, it's their reality. Stigma thwarts family efforts to accept this. 

It's okay. I'm not judging. I'm just asking for stigma busting.

Therapy is EXTREMELY helpful with anxiety. Therapy does mean you are weak or a loser or should've tried harder. It's an amazing tool to learn skills and help oneself. Why people remain so fearful of therapy, I do not know. People go to physical therapy all time time. What's the difference?

Anti-depressants are often used for persons with anxiety. They are not a quick fix but with time, such medication can work handsomely. A treatment provider calling an anti-depressant by some other name is being chicken. Anti-depressants can help reduce or potentially eliminate delusional thinking/psychosis because it is addressing the driving force--anxiety.

Remember, anxiety is a mental illness.

Anti-depressants have to be taken daily and for months on end. It is a long-acting med, taking three to six weeks to get to full "strength." It's not a med you can take now and then. It is not fast acting. As time goes on, the person feels less anxious, can think more clearly, gets back to daily living, no longer has false beliefs. it's important the person keeps taking the med, even when they are feeling great.

It is possible to have two mental health diagnoses at the same time (in this case, anxiety plus a personality disorder). It doesn't mean mental illness is twice as bad because there are two diagnoses. It means the person met the criteria for the illnesses. No matter how many "labels" are slapped on the patient (after all, they are "just" labels), the goal is to medicate the mental illness (anxiety, depression, bipolar, schizophrenia, etc) and get therapy for the personality disorder.

Families may play a role in the situation. Families don't want to hear this--after all, why would they? But, at times, the family plays a part and it's important the family recognizes its role in the issue. It's not good or bad. It's just factual. Ever watch an episode of "Intervention?" Then, you know what I'm talking about. The family system considers if they have a role in the issue. It's up to them to move forward...or not. 
I wish this family love, patience and understanding. 

I wish the person identified peace, health and recovery. 

I wish those in the world with mental illness acceptance and support. 

I wish for everyone a much less surreal world. 

I wish all of us to persist.

Nevertheless, we persist.
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Saturday, February 18, 2017

Un-Flashing-Believable

The past weeks have been quite...challenging. I'm going with that descriptor, lest I fire up into a frustration-fueled, diarrhea of the mouth laden asswipe. The stressors continue at a fevered pace. I wish I could say otherwise.  No need for giving "power" to that on this beautiful Saturday morning. After all, it's 65 degrees today when it should be 35 degrees.

Mother Nature didn't get the memo that Spring is at least a month away in these northern midwest parts. I'm all good with 65 degrees in February. That said, do you think Mother Nature will tell the trees and plants not to start sprouting yet? I'm concerned about this. What if all the buds spring forth and then it returns to seasonal weather, with a frigid cold snap? Will all the trees and plants be ruined? Will the forsythia be faced with certain doom? Will the birds fly north too "soon?" These are the things that keep me up at night.

Side note: Here's how I envision Mother Nature (aka Mother Earth) at this time of the year: Cold and snowy, heavy garb, frost on the ground, beauty in the night. Instead, I'm considering if I should wear shorts or not.

Actually, I tell you what keeps me up at night: HOT FLASHES. That's what keeps me up at night. Mother Nature certainly did NOT get the memo that it is totally unfair to "bless" me with hot flashes while eggs are fired out of the ol' ovaries every month. Seriously--I cry foul. I wake up in a swimming pool and curse the being who created this passage of life. If the eggs would stop, I might be a bit more likely to embrace this reoccurring "seeping of the sweat." I try to focus on how this MUST be the harbinger of happier days to come--the day my eggs take a bow and retire after a long, successful journey. That said, it's hard to do. I love you eggs, but it's time to go. You've worked for me over 40 years. That's long enough. You're due a pension, a day at the beach, a quiet night under the stars.

I now have hot flashes during the day, too. My 30 year old co-workers are VERY amused by this. Actually, they are probably more confused than amused. I mean, they are over 25 years younger than me. They are worried about making babies and raising families and drinking fancy beers. They are not thinking about hot flashes. I try not to be obvious but it's hard to miss when I take off my sweater, look miserable, wait a few minutes, put my sweater back on.
Go ahead, judge me, you youngsters who have no inkling of what awaits you. You'll be sorry.

Interestingly, I can now tell the time by my flashing. Yesterday, while sitting on the couch (no TV on, no clock in the room, no way of telling the actual time), I felt the burn begin. I yelled out to the wife, "Is it 7:20 PM?" After a pause, she exclaimed, "Yes, it is! How did you know?"

Mother Earth, Mother Nature, Mother of Pearl, MOTHER OF FRIGGIN' GOD! That's how I roll. My hormones are on a time schedule. It's almost nightly that an episode occurs and it's always at 7:20 PM.

I've been advised to take a gander at black cohosh. I've heard this from more than one flashing woman. I was going to wait until things really got fired up but I'm to the point I want to roll  in a field of this stuff. I assume they want me to ingest this stuff in pill form, not by rolling in and chewing on the leaves ...well, at least that is what I THINK I'm supposed to do. A lady suggested it to me last week while I was in the middle of heat stroke.

I am not responsible for anything heard while in the midst of a flash.

Back to the weather. I love warm weather. I'm not a fan of winter. I'm tickled pink it's 65 degrees out. That said, I could use a little 35 degree weather these days. It's a lot easier to go stand outside for a few minutes than taking off clothes. I have left meetings to go stand outside and feel sweet relief. I smile because it is so delicious. Once done, I go back to the meeting, no one the wiser. I'm sure they think I went to the bathroom.

Black cohosh and unseasonable weather. Looks like it is time for both. 

I gotta get me some older coworkers......
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Monday, February 13, 2017

The System and The Stigma


To honor the privacy of the person of whom I speak, I am using [he/she] as the pronoun. Thanks for your understanding.

Someone close to me is psychotic. Truly ill. Someone who has never been psychotic. Not a client at the place of which I work. I am used to be around psychotic people, day in and day out at work. This is a person in "real life," not work. This person is consumed by conspiracy theories, terrified that people aren't who they claim to be--even persons [he/she] knows and loves. The person lives life believing [he/she] is being followed, that [he/she] has information that "they" want, that the police aren't really the police....

This has led to me being frustrated--on a personal level--with "The System." I am frustrated beyond compare.

This person, although clearly psychotic, does not meet the criteria of "The System" to be involuntarily hospitalized. The police can see the person is clearly mentally ill. The crisis worker knows the person needs intense help. The family knows something is very, very wrong. The family system is in shambles. I know that this person is in need of emergency help that cannot be gained any other way but via hospitalization. Yet, there is nothing we can do because [he/she] does not meet criteria for involuntary hospitalization or even for police transport for emergency assessment.

I understand why the laws are "strict." After all, we don't want it be easy for everyone to be hospitalized at whim. We want this to be an "emergency" need, not a simple "throw 'em in the loony bin." As a professional in the field, I am very glad that the laws are strict. As a non-professional, the system feels like it is fighting against our efforts and is frustrating to the nth degree. After spending extended time with this person, I know I am exhausted--I cannot imagine what the family feels like after facing this for weeks.

"Fighting" the system is bad enough; swimming upstream in stigma adds fuel to this very ugly fire. The family has never experienced someone with mental illness. Despite progress in educating people about mental illness, it's glaringly obvious that we need to do a whole lot more. This weekend, a loved one stated to me, "[he/she] needs to snap out of it!" The ones who have not seen [him/her] in person do not grasp the severity of the situation and completely down play it, asserting that the person is acting out or too sensitive--the person is just putting on a fine performance or unable to handle a little stress. "[He/she] needs to get over it!"

There is no judgment here from me. In the community, I am never surprised by the stigma. It's pervasive. There is much understanding about mental illness. I have heard how people are weak, faking it, could stop it if they tried harder, that people can snap out of it. I've seen families scream at loved ones, demanding they "knock it off."  When giving presentations, there are always those who do not believe in mental illness except in cases they hear about in the news--you know, the psycho mass-murders with schizophrenia. THAT'S mental illness. No, I do not judge the family.... but, I thought they would have been more educated on the subject. Why I thought this, I do not know. I was mistaken. The time of crisis is not the time to educate anyone; I bite my tongue and can speak another day.

Today, I will take the day off of work and once again try and get this person help. I do not know if I will "succeed," whatever that means. I know there will be much anger and frustration and desperation from the family involved. I know I will see crying and pleading and yelling and begging. I am certain that this will not be pleasant in any capacity.  

Today, I will navigate the system as best possible.  I know the words I need to say. I know the paperwork I need to sign. I will work with the system.

Today, I know stigma will not be busted. It is what it is. There are more important things to do in the immediate. Stigma will be busted another day.

I wrote this blog with the hope that even ONE of you will bust stigma today. That you will stand up for someone with mental illness. That you will believe someone with mental illness. That you will do your best to employ a non-judgmental stance. That you will not automatically think those with depression or anxiety or PTSD can just snap out of it. I wrote it with hope that an educated reader will educate just one other person about mental illness. That others can recognize medication is not a sign of weakness. That mental illness doesn't mean you are dangerous or flawed or dumb or weak or faking it or not trying. I wrote it because that one person with mental illness will feel just a wee bit less of a failure when you talk to them like a human being, not like a to-be-feared "psycho."

Fight the stigma, not the person. The person is already fighting a battle. They need your help to fight the stigma, as that is a battle of which they cannot partake. Be the difference. Be the difference.
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Tuesday, February 07, 2017

The Professor

Geez, this teaching gig is kicking my ass!

I can't remember if I told you this or not... I am teaching a class at the local university. Yes, you can call me "Professor." It's a wellness class, so it's not that much of a stretch. Wellness is basically what I try to teach the clients of whom I serve. I suppose you could say that I am well-versed on the various tenets of building/finding/maintaining a relatively healthy life.

I've always wanted to be a "professor" but I'm not by trade an educator nor do I have my doctoral degree. That has limited my ability to find such employment. I'm still not an educator, per se, but I am a professor. Crack.me.up.

God love you teachers. You are so underpaid and so unappreciated. I've always held teachers in high esteem but now I will probably bow at your feet whenever I approach you. Anyone who thinks teaching is easy and goes into teaching "to get summers off" should be slapped in the head as hard as humanly possible. I've seen how hard the wife works to ensure learning opportunities are a given for her students. I've seen the hours and hours she has put in "behind the scene." I know the money she spends on supplies (teachers know: budget for supplies? What budget for supplies?). Sincerely--god love you!

As for me, I (thankfully) have little idea of what is going on in the world as I spent the last week doing research on the topics of stress and sleep. (Can't say that I'm too broken up about missing story after story about The Cheetos antics.) Now, you know I could fake it with the best of them on the topics of stress and sleep but it seems that scholarly research is the best way to go when facing twenty-seven college-aged students. Besides, a newbie professor like me probably shouldn't just shoot shit in a most confident manner. (And, I CAN shoot the shit with much confidence. It's a major step in the right direction that I realize shooting the shit is not the best way to go when being professorly.) In an effort to be prepared, I read the book and did
research like there was no tomorrow. My eyes became blurry watching video after video. I made PowerPoint, re-made PowerPoint, watched PowerPoint, edited PowerPoint, practiced PowerPoint.  I looked for catchy little memes to enhance my PowerPoint.

Side note: I am not the biggest PowerPoint fan but they do give me a chance to show off my artistic flair and give the students something to look at instead of staring at me the whole time.

All this means what? It means no blogging, no binge watching Netflix, greatly decreased posts on social media and a whole lot of dreams about stress and sleep. It means sitting at the kitchen table hour after hour, preparing for professor-ness.

My current job as the agency trainer prepared me well for this journey. I stand in front of employees day after day, babbling as coherently as possible, ad nauseum. I'm used to technology fighting back when trying to do a presentation, so I'm well-versed at combating issues when using the college technology afforded to me. I can bellow out information in a loud voice for all to hear. I can stand hour after hour in front of some form of media-laden device.  I take attendance and document what has transpired.

I'm still no teacher but I can "educate" the training masses. It's important to note that I am NOT a teacher. That would be an insult to the teachers in my life and in the world. I am a trainer serving as a professor. I'm training people how to be well.

Last night's stress and sleep lesson went swimmingly. Or, at least I think they went swimmingly. I did have one nursing student glaring at me the whole time, so I'm not sure she thought it went swimmingly. I choose to believe she is bitter, party of one, that she is a senior nursing student who has to take a one-credit wellness class before she can graduate.

Don't worry, glaring nursing student, I saw you laugh by accident last night. I've got your number.

Good news is that no one fell asleep when I was talking about sleep. And, no one was texting during the lecture, so that is a bonus. I did see one guy look at his phone but he then immediately looked up and saw me giving him "the teacher look." I think he piddled on himself.

Today is a day of rest. I don't even really know what the next chapter's subject is. I can look at that tomorrow, when the research begins once again. For today, I will focus on being the trainer at work.

Professor. Professor of Wellness. Professor of the Addiverse. Today, wellness. Tomorrow, the world.
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