Mental Health America All Excited...Really?

So I received an email from Mental Health America.  I am a member and receive their updates and breaking news.  Of course with all the proposed legislation going down with what I affectingly term “weapons and insanity,” there are big changes proposed.  If you are on board with everything going down in legislation right now, you may want to quit reading this blog, as I am likely to offend you.  I am not interested in changing anyone’s mind.  I am simply expressing my thoughts on what is happening in the mental health sector.  You may agree or no.  There is room here for either view.  I’m just expressing from a view point you may not have encountered.

So, Mental Health America is excited and is applauding the President for finally getting on board with mental health by extending access to services and making mental health a priority through the “GUN VIOLENCE ACT”.  So, if you are just falling off the apple cart here, and you see that you, as a person off your nut (forgive the mixed food metaphors...I’m on a diet and food is uppermost at present), can get services through an act that addresses guns and violence, would not you pause for a brief moment before skipping to your nearest health care provider, assuming you even have insurance that covers healthcare issues?  

Hmmm.  I gotta tell you, as a person who has a gun and is also mentally ill, I am a bit reticent about the ACT these new expansions are falling under.  I can honestly tell you that I have never, in my most insane moments, considered taking a gun and killing a group of individuals.  But I certainly fit the requirements of those being addressed in this act.  Oh, except I’m not in my twenties and am not male (a general and vague profile of those perpetrating these horrific crimes).  Moving on...

According to the new link I was sent, a task force has been established (sounds ominous) and is going to provide a “sea of change in the way we view mental health in this country.”  That makes me a little nervous, as someone who is mentally ill, since the impetus for a new view started with heinous shootings by individuals termed mentally ill (though more likely personality disorders).  I ask you, if you are from a culture that has gone from being largely ignored to suddenly becoming a pariah, would you want to have it shown you are a part of that culture?  

They (being unnamed sums who are now invested in addressing mental health, after decades of ignoring it and being told by those of us in the mental health care profession that things were getting worse), are now going to swoop in an “fix” the issue.  So, even though the general population of those who are gun carrying mentally ill persons do not fit the profile of the individuals who have committed such horrific crimes, there will be ramifications for all of us.  Greater good?  Hmmm.

And here is another thought to consider.  Now, we are going to start addressing mental health in schools, something I have long been saying needs to be done as 75% of mental illnesses present before the brain is fully developed by the mid twenties.  Prevention is the way to go, but I wonder who is going to do this educating?  And where is the funding going to come from to do so?  Teachers are maxed out, frankly, and their funding is as well.  Mental health doesn’t even have enough funding to treat those individuals who actually pursue treatment.  I know because I have been through the system.  So, who is going to educate on mental health?  Who is going to screen?  And with what?  Oh, I know.  We have not worked out all the bugs yet...

I think it is a good thing that mental health is being addressed, but if the powers involved think they are going to address and eradicate stigma on one hand with “conversations and talks” about it, whilst screening and then providing personal information that could eliminate 2^nd amendment rights on the other, they are living in a fantasy world.

My perspective on this comes from a couple different scenarios and a knowledge base about human behavior.  After years and years of working with individuals with severe mental illness, I have uncovered a couple of patterns.  One of those patterns is that it seems more likely that men will be more unwilling to address severe mental illness than women.  I’m making a generalization here from my own observations, so don’t quote me.  My theory is that so much about men has to do with their feeling of strength whether physical or through work, and mental illness attacks both, leaving the individual powerless.  The men I have talked to over the years just cannot accept their mental illness, and they have expressed to me that accepting it makes them feel impotent.  So, you have a population of men (I am not leaving women out here, because women also fit these categories I’m stating, just sidelining them).  

Another generalization here, but I would wager to say men tend to carry guns more than women.  You also have more men serving in the military (another generalization).  You have this particular population getting out of the military, having mental health issues (namely PTSD), and not receiving treatment prior to implementation of this new ACT.  What do you think the likelihood will be now of them getting treatment?  Before it was stigma.  Now with Biden’s new task force, a person who receives treatment and is perceived by a mental health care professional as unstable or a threat can be flagged to have his or her 2^nd amendment rights revoked.  HIPPA anyone?  And that is a tremendous amount of power for one individual to wield over another.

So, given my theory, let’s look at our military.  You have a person trained in lethal combat, who has done his (or her) time for the country.  Having done so, damage is done in a mental capacity.  The person has PTSD.  Do you think that individual is going to go get help with this new legislation coming down the pike?  I sure wouldn’t.  So, we have the potential of someone trained in combat with a mental health issue...Based on the legislation, a prime candidate to be flagged as not being able to have a gun, don’t you think?  Never mind they have the illness due to service to their country and the freedoms therein, which include (for now) the right to bear arms.  

Here is what ticks me off.  This ACT is not really targeting the population that is committing such crimes.  Hello!  Just as gun control will really only serve to restrict those who already abide by the laws of the land, so new mental health care legislation will really only impact those who are trying to live healthy lives with mental illness in tow in a negative way.  It will ameliorate bridges established to get people in to get treatment, and it will further establish stigma in society as a whole, but more importantly and more severely, in those individuals who actually have severe mental illness.  

I know Mental Health America is excited in part due to the parity bill being passed which has a lot of good things in it for helping individuals will mental illness, but what is the trade off?  The President did state that mentally ill individuals are far more likely to be victims than to perpetuate crimes, but you do not have to be a sociologist or anthropologist to see where this could go.  So what to do?  

For my part, I’m watching.  That may sound passive, but I’m waiting to see which way the wind blows, and I’m attempting to remain realistic.  Personally, I’m in danger of losing more than my right to bear arms.  I’m in danger of losing my privacy.  Professionally, I can see possibilities opening up as demand for those involved with abnormal psychology increases.  But I’m not as concerned for me as I am for those individuals for whom this ACT may be a death toll for mental health. 

I’m praying some wisdom shows up on the scene, along with some intelligence.  News flash, a person who is unable to carry a gun is certainly able to find other ways to perpetuate a horrific crime.  We have multiple past bombings as support.  AND if a crime is pre-meditated, there is an indication of rationale, which would exclude many mental illnesses and throw such individuals in the category of personality disorder which is NOT mental illness per the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual. 

So, I would challenge those who deal with mental health issues, to really look at what is going on around you.  Do you have a support system?  Do they believe in you and would protect your right to privacy as they are scrambling to protect the 2^nd amendment.  It is valuable to look at all involved here to ascertain who all could be losing what and what will be gained.

Thanks for reading as I expound on my 1^st amendment right!

L

http://www.nmha.org/index.cfm?objectid=456FA181-9254-EBC8-DEE8622F0010A206

A Year's Lessons

It’s a new year!  So what.  Sorry, but I just don’t get that excited about another year.  Do I sound, “Bah, humbug”?  My apologies to those of you who embrace a new year like “The Running of the Bulls.”  Maybe I’m a pessimist.  Maybe I’m just tired.  I am not melodramatic enough to say that life does not have good, because it most certainly does.  I’m just really not one of those fresh slate kinds of people.  “Each day is fresh with no mistakes”... but then again, what about the unresolved ones of yesterday?  Where do they go?  They do not simply fall away in the night.  No.  If there is no resolution, they will be there to greet the day with you.  And is it not ignorance to deny they exist?  Mistakes happen.  There is forgiveness and even compensation, but they have the power to change the course of one’s life, for good or bad.  From my perspective, it’s sometimes all about whether or not one can make pies with mud. 

I stopped making new year resolutions a long time ago.  I find them to enable me to fail.  I know that seems a contradiction, but the things I have succeeded at have been practices in place over time, not promises I have made to myself for improvement on January 1^st.  As a psychologist, I find the behaviors implemented with resolutions to be amusing.  There is a mad scramble to accomplish that which has not been mastered the rest of the year through.  It is as though somehow with the dawning of a new year there is an enablement to succeed that has not existed prior.  I have seen it too often in my own nature.  And I know that, behaviorally, it is impossible to will a new pattern.  There has to be practice, consistency, and tenacity, all features I possess no more on January 1^st than I do any other time of the year.

I am not poo-hooing those who like their resolutions.  It is truly not my business, but I just think there is a lot of pressure placed on this time of year during a time when depression already reigns.  So, why not add the pressure to reformat one’s life and when failure happens, let’s add it to one of the most depressing months of the year.   Again, if it helps you, makes you a better person in your own interpretation, do it.  For me, the practice is not beneficial.

So, I have implemented a reflection thing I do in December.  I take stock as one might of a pantry to see what I have in excess and what I am lacking.  I make notes to add or throw out, and I attempt balance.  This past year has been all about the dissertation.  My doctorate has taken up so much of my life.  I ran into major issues with my chairperson and had to get a new one.  The process taught me that if I had to, I could walk away from the whole thing for the sake of everything else in my life.  My  new chairperson is awesome, and it looks as though I’m going to button this thing down by early spring, but I am still willing to walk away if need be.  That was a hard place to come to, but I got there.  Some things should really just not dictate the welfare of others in one’s life.  I am happy with this particular development in my little world. 

Another area I have recently made changes to has been in the area of relationships.  I have a fatal flaw where people are concerned.  I have figured out that I tend to involve broken people who are needy in my life so that I won’t have to be left out.  It is a practice I have employed since forever.  Kind of like the kid who brings candy to school and offers it for friendship.  I have tended to offer loyalty and support as trade off for friendship.  This is a tough one.  But I have begun drawing hard lines.  I was single for nearly 40 years.  People think of you that way, even if your status changes.  I am married now, and I have a family.  I can no longer be a beck and call girl for individuals who are used to me being there.  So, people who do not want to know about my life, do not want to be involved, but want me on standby in case they need crisis intervention will be billed.  Simple as that.  

I can no longer put forth all the effort in personal exchanges and receive no exchange or response.  That is not healthy.  My apologies for not doing this sooner.  When I had more time in my personal life, other people’s issues were like puzzles I enjoyed trying to solve, but I am not God, and I have no real answers.  I no longer have time to straddle the practices of my past life and those required in my new one.  I have to commit somewhere.  And that has been the lesson of the year.  I must commit to the life I have chosen, leaving what is past behind. 

It is difficult to let go of a life that has been in place for nearly 40 years.  People who have been married and then single, tell me they know what I mean, but they don’t.  When you have never ever committed your entire life to someone, given up your independence, and found yourself having to ask for input of another person when you have never done any of that in 35 + years, taking a step like that is pretty earth shattering.  And, I think that in the past year, even though I have been married for nearly two years now, I have really come to a reckoning with myself about my tendency to hedge my bets rather than go all in, a practice very much against my nature.   It is as though a part of me is being reserved, held back, for...well...for me.  But what Abba has helped me see is that if I cannot see me in my new life with a new direction, I will never be able to fully live it, and I cannot expect others to believe it of me either.

So I have already begun the changes I want for my life, long before a new year gave me permission.  It matters little about success or failure.  It has to be an implemented change in the fabric of my nature.  I have done some of the hard stuff.  I have walked away from some relationships that have been in place for most of my life.  There is no closed door...just empty place on the bench I used to inhabit, waiting to be summoned.  I just don’t have the time any more.  And, I have begun to fully live the life I am in.  I am slowly accepting the role of “mother” something I have never really been comfortable with or pursued, and I am reaping benefits I do not deserve.  I am someone’s wife; Chris’ wife.  And I’m mostly okay with that, because he champions me being me.  A better man for me does not exist.  I am a low maintenance woman, but that does not mean I am not difficult, and he is a perfect balance of humor, grace, and strength for me.  I hope I bring to his life.  I hope I can continue to become a better person not just because of him but for him.  

I am working towards becoming more involved socially with the life I am in.  I am going to continue to make an attempt to get involved in the church we have begun to attend.  I’m not a person who enjoys church.  There I said it.  Are you shocked?  I grew up “in the church”.  I have spent the last 20 years trying to break out of that mentality and make certain my reasons for going to church are not ritualistic or obligatory,but spiritual.  What can I say?  I’m agoraphobic.  A nightmare for me is a round room packed with people I don’t know, music that is too loud, and only two exits.  But I’m working it out, because I feel this is an area where I need to stretch.  And maybe in the future I will join in on a Bible study or, heaven forbid, a women’s group.  It’s not my thing, and I have had major trauma in the past with such groups wanting to “exorcise” the demons out of me that make me “crazy”.  But I’m past all that.  I know my God and what he thinks of me.  Anyone else’s discomfort with me and my issues is theirs and not for me to worry about.  Even so, I won’t be throwing such things into the arena any time soon.  I am going to make an effort to become involved a bit.  I just feel it is something I need.  And you never know, I may be surprised.  I’m open to that...being surprised.  Yet another change I have begun to embrace over that past year.  We shall see what next year’s reflection brings.

Happy Year, everyone!

L

Inside Edition of Mental Health Care

I have been putting off this blog for some time, because I don’t like to traipse down memory lane, but in light of recent events in our country, I think it necessary to put this out there.

I was 14 when I had my first depressive episode.  It lasted about 6 months.  My second occurred when I was 17 and lasted about 6 months.  These episodes were not just “sadness” or “being down”.  They were overcast and gray with no energy and there was no idea of there being a future of any kind.  

When I was 21 I experienced a depressive episode worse than anything I had experienced before.  It lasted 10 months and took me past suicidal ideation to a flat line.  I experienced absolutely no feeling of any kind.  I was numb, and I eventually developed a psychotic feature that began to shut my body down.  Lack of sleep was the instigator of the psychotic break, and it was perpetuated by severe and continual depression. 

Over the next 10 years I struggled to find help, diagnosis, and stability.  Most of you who know me and read my blog know I have bipolar II and agoraphobia with panic attacks.  So, this blog is more about the mental health process I went through, such as it was, to get to where I am now.  

I had someone watching out for me, who worked through vocational rehabilitation in Minot, ND where I was going to school.  She called my mom and told her I was going to kill myself before the term ended if I was not pulled out and watched.  That was the first significant aide I received, and it was not from the mental healthcare system but from someone in another organization affiliated. 

When I got home, no one knew what to do with me.  My parents had never encountered mental illness, so they just kept me close and hoped it would pass.  I knew, after nearly a year of broken down mental health, that I would not survive another such episode.  Fortunately, I had a friend whose husband was a physician, and they got me to a friend who was a psychiatrist.  He was beneficial to helping me, but he was also over a hundred dollars a session, and with someone as seriously ill as I was, I had to go once a week for a while.  You do the math.  I had no insurance.  I had no job.  My parents were still raising children and on a budget.  I was told that there was no way to afford treatment.  I had no place to go.  I had been shown someone who might be able to help me with something I had seemingly “contracted” but I couldn’t have it, because there was no way to afford it.  At that time there was very little financial aid for people in my position.  I was desperate, because I knew the next round of depression would be my last.  

My friend stepped in again and helped me financially.  She basically saved my life.  She recognized there was something seriously wrong that wasn’t going to just go away.  I remember her telling me that 22 was too young to be dealing with life and death decisions every single day.  So, I continued to see the doctor, and we began the very long and costly road of finding me a diagnosis.  The cost of medications was astronomical.  It isn’t like taking an antibiotic for a cold.  You gotta play around with eliminating depression, ADD, and any number of other illnesses before you hit the grand slam mental illnesses of either bipolar of schizophrenia.  A good doctor will hope for the least invasive illnesses and begin to rule them out and work up to the big ones.  Unfortunately for me, anti-depressants and stimulants threw me into mania, and after a year, we knew I had bipolar, based on a long period of trial and error. 

It is valuable in our current mental healthcare system to get a diagnosis, because that is how one gets on the right pharmaceutical regimen.   So, there I was at 23, newly diagnosed, thinking, “Okay, I will take a pill and get on with life.”  Right…My body hated psychiatric meds.  I had violent illness, blisters, and hives.  I bloated up like the blueberry girl who ate the gum on “Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” minus the blue.  And through it all, the moods continued with mania and extreme depression, often exacerbated due to the meds rather than curtailed.  

I knew there was stigma out there, but I didn’t understand how deep it went.  My biology professor in Minot told me when I told him I had to withdraw due to mental illness that if I was mentally ill, I didn’t belong in college (The petty child in my very much wants to find him and rub my doctorate in his face!).  But I didn’t realize that my illness could be hazardous to me in a social context until my psychiatrist cautioned me about telling anyone about my illness, especially anywhere I worked.  At that point I had to make a decision, was I going to buy into shame about my illness, or was I going to refuse to accept guilt over something that landed in my lap due to biology and genetics.  I chose the latter, and with that choice came transparency and an opening to be hurt, discriminated against, and rejection, all of which I fully expected from society but not from those in the profession who were supposed to help me.

I saw my psychologist for several years.  We finally tapped out our options for meds and were able to land on lithium.  Lithium was really hard on my stomach, and when I moved to Kansas City with my sister, I found anxiety exacerbated the medications interaction on me physically.  I had continual stomach issues, and as this small town girl grappled with living in a big city and working downtown KC with a 40 mile commute (round trip) every day through major traffic, I developed an anxiety disorder called agoraphobia with panic attacks.  So, seven years into my diagnosis of BP, I now had another illness, and it was absolutely debilitating.  I could not leave the house without becoming physically sick.  Panic attacks ensued every time I went to the grocery store or Wal-Mart.  I had them on the way to work, on the way home, and off and on throughout my work day.  The mental toll cause major upheaval with the BP and the two fed off each other.

Mental healthcare at the time was sketchy.  I had insurance but had to use those in network for treatment, and even then very little was covered.  Average cost for a med check was $100 and for extended consultation if I was having issues, it was nearly double.  The first psychiatrist I saw in network felt he could treat the anxiety by increasing my lithium.  He increased it so much that it nearly killed me.  So, I had to go off the lithium, which left me unprotected from the BP and the severe depression that always quickly slides in when I’m unstable.  I found another doctor through a friend, and though I had to travel all the way across KC to see him, it was worth it, for he rescued me.  He got me leveled out and on a different type of lithium and began to teach me how to handle my illnesses.  He educated me and informed me I had to be an authority on my illnesses as many in the profession do not know what they are doing.  Then he was indicted for selling pharmaceuticals from his home.  I had to find another doctor.  

The next doctor I found wanted to put me on Haldol the first visit we had, which is an antipsychotic and very invasive, often used for treating schizophrenia.  When I passed on the med change based on him not even having read my file, he was offended.  He talked down to me as though I was an idiot, telling me that I could not just have meds.  He told me I needed to take care of myself and get regular blood work, and that if I could not do what he directed he would not prescribe to me.  Every time I went in to see him, I left feeling like a chastised child, punished for crimes I had not committed.  Left untreated, the agoraphobia got worse.  I desperately needed therapy, but my bills for the treatment I was receiving were in the double digits.  It came down to me choosing to either get the meds or get therapy.  I knew the BP required lithium, so I chose meds.  

I tried a couple therapists in my network to see if I could get some therapy to help me.  The first one told me she was very threatened by mental illness, knew little about it, and couldn’t help me.  The second therapist looked around like I was going to rob her when I told her I had a mental illness.  She told me she was not comfortable working with the mentally ill.  The interesting thing with that was that when I applied for social security to get some help, they had a therapist assess my mental state and competency.  I walked in for the appointment and low and behold, the therapist they had hired was the therapist who had told me she knew little about mental illness.  The results of the session with her came back that I did not need SS because I could work in a fast-food restaurant. My big Italian therapist (the one who was indicted) shook his head, emitted a very committed profanity and said, “That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard.  You in a fast food restaurant would be a step towards ending the world.”  Had he not ended up in prison, my story might have turned out very different…

There was no assistance, no support, nothing in the mental healthcare system that either lent itself to be found or utilized.  That is when I decided I was going to go into psychology, so I could really help people with mental illness.  I felt the mental healthcare system lacked practical help and humanity, and I still feel the same today.

We moved to Alaska, and at that time the agoraphobia had made me a prisoner in my home for nearly a year.  Because it was so out of control, it had caused instability with the BP and I had a series of three very significant “crashes” where mental function was fractured to the point of non-functioning.  It is difficult to describe such a thing to a person who has never encountered such a phenomena, but suffice to say the body is there, the mind is laying in pieces, and the brain is shooting off electrical sparks and smoke, over-connecting in some areas and not connecting at all in most.  

My family was on board with this round of psychosis.  I went to stay with my sister and finally got a few months of therapy along with continued pharmaceutical regimen.  It only happened for a brief period with a professional willing to work with me without much compensation, but that time helped me get a mental grip.  The move to Alaska opened up a new world for me, as I entered the world of academia and psychology.  I found a home at that university, and to be honest, the best help I ever received came from my professors in the psychology department rather than the mental healthcare system.  I learned to take control of all aspects of my mental health.  I became an authority on my illness, and it helped me ascertain who should be on my “team” to help me be as healthy as possible. 

I found a therapist through my mentor professor.  She was a nurse practitioner and therapist.  She was the first professional to address my agoraphobia both through therapy and medication.  Coupled with insights from my mentor who was a behaviorist, I began to make progress with the agoraphobia, which in turn, created more stability with the BP.  

Years later, at 41, and after five years of stability in both illnesses, I will say I am not “recovered” as our mental healthcare system insists is possible.  I have accepted that I have two invasive illnesses, uninvited guests, that inhabit my being.  Most the time, as long as I keep things the way they like it, I live in harmony with them.  When I let my life get too messy or filled with stress, they protest.  But I never assume that I am well, and I no longer draw lines at what I may or may not be capable of in terms of accomplishment.  I live with the knowledge that I could have had a very different life without these illnesses, that I lost my youth and most of my transitional thirties to the throes of trying to survive, but I do not lament any of it.  It does no good to waste energy on such frivolousness. I cannot attribute any of this wisdom to something I learned from the healthcare system I was a part of.  For the most part it failed me.  Those who did help for a time were either so expensive I could not afford them, they were undereducated, or their own issues caused them to become impotent in their profession.

I found my way through Abba’s leading.  It was unorthodox, and had little to do with our country’s healthcare system.  My story is a triumph, but that is not due to much help from the healthcare system in this country.  Most of it is from friends, family, and academics who were willing to support me, were committed to a lifetime of supporting me.  I cannot say my story is the norm.  Most people with severe mental illness do not have such support, so I am not surprised to see erosion of our society and the malfunction of a population, so largely ignored, thrown into a system so inept at doing its job.  I’m sorry, but until this country makes its mentally ill population a priority, the system used to treat them will be cut off at the knees and its population frustrated and hopeless while their illness continue to get worse. 

L

Doing and Being

I have been doing some heavy contemplating of late.  Life seems to move at a frenetic pace, and the more responsibilities or “roles” we have, the more challenging it is to “be” rather than “do”.  Merton (1955) posits that it is fire that warms us not the smoke from fire.  It is not the wake of a ship that carries us over water but the ship itself.  By comparison, what we are is found in the depths of the soul not in what we do and how what we do looks.  Merton goes on to explain that who we really are is not found in the “impact of our being on the beings around us, but in our own soul which is the principle of all our acts”.  

I have been sitting here for some time pondering what that means to me, to my life.  I have felt that I am continually being swept along in the tide of happenings outside myself while I try to produce the best action possible.  I know this is not the way.  I know that in order to grow I must maintain connection with my spiritual being in order to not only perceive changes in my nature and supply action authentic to that nature but to stay fully tuned into what Abba would have me do.  I learned many years ago that life is messy, and with every struggle the redemption comes with the growth and wisdom I attain through letting Abba work in my life.  

Merton’s words struck me as poignant, because it is so easy for me to define myself based on how well I am handling each and every situation thrown in my path, but who I am is rarely indicative of what I do.  That seems wrong to say, but so often who I really am is not reflected in what I do.  I often supply based on demand.  You may think this confusing or even contradictory.  So let me give a personal example I have come into contact with of late.  Here’s a big one;  weight.  If who I am is based on my weight or my management of it then my nature is wishy-washy, indulgent, rigid, and superficial.  When I look at my innermost being I do not see these characteristics as inherent to my nature.  But I display them…So what gives?

 I think what Merton is expressing, or at least what I am taking as an interpretation, is that I am not my weight, but it is a part of what I do.  My inner being desires to be healthy, but does it follow that health is a particular size?  What I do in regards to my weight tends to be reflected in what I hear from others and what those closest to me are doing.  It works for them, so it should work for me, right?  They are healthy at a certain size… so I should be too, right?  To expand on this example I can share an extended story…

One of my sisters lost a lot of weight on a diet that worked very well for her.   I decided I should do it and get my weight off in much the way she did.  What I found was that I was literally starving, so much so that my brain became sluggish and I couldn’t track thought processes.  My husband finally stated he didn’t marry a stupid skinny woman (my paraphrase) and would I please get some food into my body so my IQ would return to its elevation.  So, that diet was a wash.  Some time later  another of my sisters found great success with another type of diet.  I thought it would work for me, and I could finally get to where I “should” be.  So, I committed discipline and a substantial amount of money to it and set off on another dietary journey.  I hated the food, found I was continually tied to the clock, and eventually, after three months, developed continual hives.  My husband intervened yet again and told me I was beginning to look like a patchwork quilt and I better stop it.  

Now I am not submarining either diet.  I know both work and have worked well for my sisters.  And, honestly, I lost a cumulative 40 pounds on the two diets.  But my body and really my soul were not down with either program.  I have continued to weigh to make sure I am keeping off what I lost, but I have begun to listen to my inner being and that is where I am finding direction from Abba as he speaks to that inner part of me and helps me find my way past the mirror, the scale, and the success stories of others to a place where I am understanding my body and the impact of food on it.  

I have discovered through all my “doing” that sugar is not good for me.  I know that I cannot be tied to a timeframe but must be able to hear my body when it needs sustenance.  I know I require a variety of foods as options even if I tend to stick to the same things.  I suppose the ultimate goal is to line “doing” up with “being” so that the two aspects are in sync, but that does not always happen.  So often I have heard people say that your weight is not who you are.  Yeah, whatever.  It has always seemed to me a direct reflection of physiology, lack of discipline, and possibly something deeply psychological.  But I am discovering that, as with many things, my weight (light, heavy, or just so) is not the issue.  The issue is what I do to impact it, and even more is the question, “Is what I am doing a direct reflection of my inner being, or am I so fixated on doing to provide a result that I am ignoring being?”  In other words, when I have my plain non-fat yogurt with fruit and Truvia, is my being content with that, and do I enjoy it?  Or is it simply a direction I am taking so I can look in the mirror and say, “Your are as thin as your sisters?”  

In the past few months I have experienced major roadblocks in my doctoral journey, financial uncertainties, health issues in many of my family members, death, nearly losing my dogs to a gum mishap, and many other stresses that come with the messiness of living that have all resulted in one overriding hindrance:  Fear.  But, having seen the power of Abba work in my own single journey through mental illness and continual brushes with death, I know that the truth of it all is that my innermost being is protected by a power I really cannot explain.  And if I look outside my spirit to the daily happenings and striving to ameliorate them, I only come up against the fear that what I “do” is never enough.  Who I am is bought and paid for with a grace I cannot fathom or replicate, and so I am learning to accept.  And in this season of being thankful I am looking at those I love from my innermost being past what they all “do” to who they are.  This allows me to ignore offenses and to simply enjoy loving them and being loved by them as I work towards lining up what I do with who I am.

Blessings,

L  

Merton, T.  (1955).  No man is an island.    New York, NY:  Dell Publishing Co.