Tag: Mental Health

Be Aware of the Post Holiday Blues

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What leads a person to have the post holiday emotional let down? More importantly, what qualifies as symptoms of an actual depressed state? It is normal, each year, to experience an emotional high anticipating the many aspects of the holidays and regardless of which holidays we celebrate, there is always a sense of excitement and anxiety that will abruptly disappear in January. Some experts report as many as twenty five percent of us will suffer with a holiday let down lasting for a few days to a week with symptoms similar to depression. So often our expectations are not realistic or we have high hopes for repaired relationships that do not materialize and are left with feelings of disappointment and grief. Many experience a high from all of the bustling around in the commercialization of the season the let down is inevitable.

However, only some of these feelings will lead to an episode of Major Depression.

The National Institute of Mental Health reported that approximately 6.7 percent of American people over the age of 18 are affected by depression. These symptoms can include a consistent lack of motivation, unintended changes in weight, sleeping too much or too little, irritability, a sense of helplessness or hopelessness and feelings of suicide (even a vague sense of not wanting to exist qualifies). Most importantly, these symptoms must significantly affect the person’s ability to function on a day-to-day basis. It is very common for a person to report they are “getting by” with the minimum life requirements, yet all other aspects of their life have been neglected by the depression. If many of these symptoms have persisted for two or more weeks, it may be time to seek professional help through therapy and when necessary, medication.

But once the holidays have passed and the emotional let down begins, there are many preventative measures that can be taken to stave off an episode of major depression. One can begin by simply following through with those new years resolutions that are often quickly forgotten. Most importantly, EXERCISE. If ever there was a cure-all, exercise is it! It improves our mood, boosts those happy neurotransmitters that make us feel like “everything will be o.k.”, increases healthy sleep patterns and decreases irritability. These improvements do not account for the additional positive physical effects on the body.

Other important preventative measures include taking time out for ourselves. There appears to be a common misconception that if we make time to do something just for ourselves we are being selfish. Yet, I will consistently argue that it is a farce if we are depleted and continuing to attempt to give to others. Remember, we can not take care of others without first taking care of ourselves.

Finally, a tactic used with cognitive-behavioral therapy, focus on the positive aspects of your life and use that energy to move forward. In what ways could you use this positive energy to begin a new chapter in your life, start a new project or renew worthwhile relationships? Let us be grateful for even the small moments of grace offered in our lives and remain proactive in our self-care to prevent depression. 

The Telling: The First Moment the Universe Heard the Story of my Sexual Abuse

It is honestly difficult to remember the first time I spoke the words, “He hurt me” with out the memory being encapsulated in a snow globe. I watch it play itself out; nothing exists except for my house on Mosswood Drive, me, my mother and a Strawberry Shortcake suitcase. It is not uncommon for a trauma victim to have memories that can only be remembered as if you are a third party, a ghost, entering into the memory watching your physical self play it out while you loom overhead. Your emotional Self hangs out above, floating and separate from you. For what ever reason, this particular memory is even more distant, yet at the same time, in a snow globe’s tomb, immortalized in my mind.
I was eleven or twelve years old. We had moved from a condo in my home town to a rental house, now renting with my mother’s boyfriend and children. This was the second one following the separation of her second husband and as usual, I was having a difficult time adjusting. Change was like a stabbing knife in my chest. I knew I was supposed to ‘get along’, but it was this boyfriend that I finally readily rejected, tired of being told indirectly to roll with the flow. That day, I had reached a breaking point, weary of the angry tongue lashing that was not uncommon, especially if there was no one around to stop it. I packed my bag and I was leaving. Listen, I packed my STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE suitcase. What in the hell was I thinking?!! Clearly a person honestly capable of leaving would have a black leather suitcase. Every time I flip the snow globe and play out the memory in my mind, I stop dead when the childish suitcase is being packed. But I honestly was carrying heavy, grown up weight with no where to put it, except into my flimsy childish life.
My mother laughed at me while I sobbed, stuffing various clothes into my little girl life. It just made me hurt even more. Could she not see this pain? She was clueless…. even more clueless about the bombshell I was about to drop on her. My day bed faced the window out onto the front porch and was covered with a bright white bed spread, stuffed animals and flowery pillows. I originally bunked with my older soon-to-be step sister, but I was used to having my own space. I had white antique furniture, it followed me into every house I can remember, even in the houses of abuse. I had plenty of clothes. I always had plenty of stuff. But my soul was slowly dying.These words about soul loss may sound like drama, something Scarlet herself would mumble, but when we keep secrets, it rots our soul and each traumatic memory is wrapped like bacon in a thick layer of shame.
My hair was short and puffy. I remember wearing gray cut off Levi jeans with a white shirt that had hot pink and black geometric patterns on it. It was the 80’s in California. I am sure I had high top Reebok with multiple pairs of socks too. And I really was leaving. Anything. Anything to get away from this life. Anything to escape the indescribable pain of the past mixed with the emotional pounding that I was once again receiving from my mother. She seemed relieved when I was broken. This time I was desperate to use Strawberry Shortcake as my shield.
I went towards the front door, first turn to the right out of my room. She grabbed up my arm, became frantic that I was really leaving. Somehow I managed to get out on the porch, but never any further. I absolutely cannot remember how I made it from the porch with leaving in hand to the kitchen table, telling her, telling ANYONE for the first time.
I have no memory of my mothers face that day. She is a blur. I can remember the color of my shorts, but not her face. I cannot remember any consoling words except a vague idea that I was going to get help. I was at least heard momentarily and had some visions of seeing a therapist. But I cannot remember how the day ended. My snow globe goes blanket white and I want to remember if I even felt relieved. Did she hug me? Did she say she was sorry? I wasn’t even sure if she believed me.
Jump several days. I am watching myself talk to my first step father on the phone. His son was my perpetrator, my step brother. It was one of those old style, heavy, manilla colored phones with white plastic push dials. If you pushed just right, all the buttons would dial together and lord knows it was so heavy you could easily knock yourself out just trying to answer it. I am in my mother’s room alone, me and the phone to the right of the bed. My step father starts to ask me if what I said to my mother was true. He tells me as adamantly as he possibly can that “IF” this is true he will disown his son. I am grateful, but I also realize that this is the only person my mother has told and not to protect or help me, but instead help herself. He alludes to how my mother threatened to use the abuse against him in the divorce proceedings. I am betrayed all over again. I disappear into thin air in that moment, my ghost self sees the phone hang in mid air while I die from this sick pain that hollows out my chest. It will be years; Really, YEARS before it is ever brought up again. Now only my mother, my step father and I know the pain and we all bury it further away. I seal it up, like the snow globe and carry on with life, pretty, puffy and pink like Strawberry Shortcake.

Social Media- Not ALWAYS your Friend….Use with Caution

Upon initial thought, you may think a therapist talking about problems associated with FaceBook in the treatment room strange. Think Again! It is not an unusual part of the treatment to process the various issues that come up as a result of this form of social media. Given that I have the privilege of seeing many adolescents, it may be expected that these issues only surface as a result of treating this population. Again, think again. Many adults utilize FaceBook, however, sadly, often with little finesse or application of reasonable limits that a person may meaningfully set in their day to day direct interactions. In an effort to encourage adults to utilize social media in an appropriate way, I will share a few pieces of insight and suggestions for managing your use of social media in an effort to reduce problems that can often arise. First and foremost, FaceBook can be a meaningful relational tool, a way to connect with the people that are significant in your life. Research tell us that we cannot connect with more that 125 people through FaceBook at any given time. If you have 550 friends on FaceBook, it may be time to evaluate who you honestly want to share aspects of your life with. And don’t stop there, consider carefully who you choose to be friends with in the future and return to evaluating your friends list from time to time. If you connected with some long lost high school buddy and you realize that you really will never see or speak to this person outside of this social outlet, do you honestly want them to share in pictures from the first day of school that you recently posted of your children?
Here is something else that research is starting to tell us; how you “act” on FaceBook is often how you act in your real life. If you constantly troll the site, seeking out other people’s misery or regularly post about the terrible awful in your life, people most often experience you the same in direct relationship. If you find yourself posting passive aggressive comments really directed at other people or broadcast every single egregious behavior your child participates in, your day to day friendships likely resemble these same problems. Finally, if you find yourself saying, ‘I am sick of the drama on Facebook’, it would not be surprising if your own life fed on this same need for emotional chaos. This also means that if your child is bullying on FaceBook, social media is simply another outlet for that behavior, not that it would/does not happen elsewhere.
It is true that technology has sped past our capacity to genuinely evaluate the emotional implications of social media, but it is not an excuse to not take the time to set some reasonable boundaries around your use of it. Do you want to be known as the girl that ‘broadcasts every detail of their life’ or the one who ‘stirs up trouble’ by posting pictures of a family party that excluded other family intentionally? Or worse, the person that cannot stop ‘harping on their political views’ to the point that it feels emotionally invasive?
If you find yourself not able to delete FaceBook friends, that is yet another indication that you may fear possibly hurting someone else’s feelings, compromising your own values in your use of social media, but more likely a direct indication that fear of hurting other people’s feelings is fully present in your real life. My encouragement; Be Brave, Have Courage. Deciding the parameters under which you want to utilize social media that is honestly meaningful for you is not an indication that you feel you are better than someone else. Instead, it is an opportunity to set limits in your life. People who have clear limits and boundaries in their relationships with others are the happiest people. Social media is a relational tool, use it well and you will experience meaningful benefits.

 

A Day of Mindfulness with Thich Nhat Hanh

As strange as it seems, one of the largest American Buddhist Monastery’s is in Batesville, Mississippi called Magnolia Grove Monastery and Meditation Center. Yes- Batesville, MISSIPPI (did you just spell it in your head?!). I know you may need a moment to locate it on a map because it truly is in the middle of rural earth. The Zen Master, Thich Nhat Hanh has three in the United States; New York, California and Mississippi. Thich Nhat Hanh (called Thay) was nominated for a nobel peace prize during the 1960’s when the civil rights movement was at its height. He worked along side Martin Luther King, Jr. to promote peace here, as well as, his home country of Vietnam. Because of his activism, he was exiled from his own country and lives most often in Plum Village, a monastery in France. With the south the heart center of the civil rights movement and continued with racial divisiveness today, it is so fitting for a place of peace to be born there.

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My spouse has been a practitioner of Zen Buddhism for many years and when Thich Nhat Hanh came to the monastery for the first time two years ago, he went for a week long retreat and returned a changed man. My daughter and I joined him for our first Day of Mindfulness and was blown by the silent wind of the monks, nuns and fellow practitioners. More importantly, it was so beautiful to remember how the simple act of centering myself allowed me to wake up my mind from distractions. By creating space to stop and breathe allowed my senses to heighten and experienced such joy and gratitude in re-remembering that my feet are touching the earth. It is so easy to use the television, the computer, the phone to numb out to our life. I believe sometimes we cannot stand to be with ourselves simply because we fear what we may find out.

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This year, a beautiful Meditation Hall was completed, called the Rising Tide Meditation Hall along with The Great Bell. During free time, the bell would sound calling us to stop and breathe in, breathe out. Breathe In. Breathe Out. Breathe In. Breathe Out.

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Thay told a wonderful story about how we can use a bell to carve out sacred space at home. He suggested that the use of a bell can allow the entire family to invite each other to sit together and share space………to call us back to our breath, our home that resides within.

 

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Most days of the retreat lunch was silent, however, on the Day of Mindfulness, we are able to meet people that have come to visit from all over the country. I saw license plates from Virginia to Arizona! We had the pleasure of sitting with a family that lives in Batesville. She told me she works for the local paper, so I asked about the climate of local people in response to the monastery’s presence. She told me that like anything new, people were suspicious and worried there was going to be a sweeping push of conversion. She has continued to report on the monastery through out its progress and although some struggled with fear due to a lack of knowledge, the local Baptist church became involved in building the meditation hall!

What is true of the Buddhists is there would actually be discouragement in leaving your religion of origin. A buddhist practice does not diminish a persons faith, but instead gives us all the opportunity to wake up to our life and grow our relationship within our own religion. A meditation practice calls us home. While I absorbed myself into the meditation hall, I forgot about everything except what was right in front of me. I am taking a step. I am listening. We are one.

A sense of peace washes over me and I want to retreat from the world, maybe live like the monks who spend their lives cultivating peace from within. But I have to remember that I CAN live this way at any time I chose. I can return to my true home within.
Just take a breath. Breathe In. Breathe Out.

Repeat after me this simple prayer as you breathe – I am beloved. I am home.

You ARE Beloved. You ARE Home.

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To Learn more about the manifestation of the Magnolia Grove Monastery and this Beloved Community, check out the link below:

http://faithinmemphis.com/2013/09/30/nhat-hanh-brings-dharma-to-delta/

 

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In Gratitude

One place I struggle with expressing myself is in offering gratitude. I often think all day long about how some outfit looks great on someone or expressing my thanks to someone. It may seem odd, but it is a place of vulnerability. We often do not know if another person will brush us off or openly accept our gifts. I am working on this. So today, I share with you a letter I recently sent to my BFF and office manager in an ongoing effort to let her know how much I appreciate her presence in my life. Writing it has prompted me to consider other people who need to her my words of thanks. I think we often are gracious, but without intention. This is my way of committing to you my increased intentionality around my work with joy. Without gratitude, joy is difficult to experience. I challenge you today to take your gratitude work and create intention. I am working on my next letter and will share with you here soon……

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September 2013

 

Dearest Anne,

Four years ago, we chatted while I was in Tennessee at the Carnegie Hotel about the possible future of us working together. We were open and honest about not knowing what we could initially offer one another, nor were we sure about what the future would hold. We agreed to try it out and see if it made sense. Here we are, four years later, living in different states, have had three different therapists with us and a mound of insurance knowledge and struggle. I realize that my career dreams would not have become what they are without you.

Despite the fact that when all is said in done, I am (suppose to be) the “boss” and I know I can be a controlling tyrant in different moments, the truth is that you decided to take a chance on me. You agreed to play a role in the future of this business and with out fail, have given yourself fully. You agreed to buy into what could have been just another silly dream. You made the commitment to be apart of something that gives to all of us and our community every day. Every time I step back from what we have accomplished, I am in awe and experience such rich joy in knowing that we have collectively created something that is meaningful and thriving.

In the past, the idea of not knowing every aspect of this business made me want to jump out of my skin. Now, when Angie and Shaun ask me a question they think I should know, I don’t worry when I recognize that you have that piece of knowledge and I do not have to know every detail. I do not fret over the details of who is a best fit and how to make sure we maintain the type of reputation necessary for our work to thrive in a business that is driven by confidentiality and the need to create emotional safety.

You are the face of our business. Just in how you chose to work with every client makes my job so much easier. That initial call for every client is tough and what you do in those few moments you spend with them begins the process of creating the safe environment that we are all committed to.

Above all, we started out as familiar acquaintances, and today, I call you one of my best friends. When we started working together, we realized that we had the same kooky and dark sense of humor, could laugh at ourselves and with each other over silly things only we find funny. I am always grateful I can talk to you about what ever is on my mind without judgement or negative criticism. I am in awe of how we can so easily say to one another, ‘I wouldn’t do that shit if I were you’ and know that if we still do, we won’t make each other feel bad for it. 

How does one luck up on a business manager and a best friend? I am sure I don’t know.

 

I wish I could give you more: more time, more money, maybe one day, a real shredder……what ever you needed. But today, in this letter, I offer you what I consider my most precious gift: my confidence in you. I BELIEVE in YOU. Thank you for sustaining me as my business manager and as my friend. I grow in gratitude as the years go by.

 

 

In Love and Trust, 

 

Alicia G.

Miss Judgy Pants Needs a Life Line

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I have committed most of my adult life to my growing edges. Despite the painful realizations that come with learning about an area that needs growth, I am eventually grateful after much kicking, screaming and (possibly) a few self loathing, angry rants. Needless to say, the growing edge I am about to share with you – is far from being done with me. It may never end. Blech! is all that comes to my mind.

 Many months ago I spent a day out with my friend and at the end of the day I saw that she posted on FaceBook (Yes- it really is the devil sometimes) that she felt she needed to be more positive and stop focusing on saying so many negative things. Of course, I was concerned I may have been playing a part in speaking from a negative place and frankly felt it was right. But- of course, I didn’t really want to listen and allowed myself to get distracted by the next pretty FaceBook picture.

Then, another event. A few weeks ago I was hanging out with other friends. I made many different judgements about the game, what the band and others were wearing and told several personal stories about how other people were not self aware while, I, obviously was. My friends laughed at my “jokes” and agreed with me on the problems that other people had. More than half way through the evening it just hit me. I can’t say if it was the way my friends acted towards me- maybe they grew weary of my complaining and acting like I had all the answers. Maybe I could hear myself for the first time and all I heard was an egotistical whine that started making my head hurt. What ever it was, I quickly dove into a positive story of how a local waitress, who recognized me from my TV interviews, tried to pay for my lunch after she asked me a personal question. I simply encouraged her to listen to her intuition. But, was my happy-happy story just trying to ice a cake made out of mud?

Holy Shit! What kind of person do I think I am?? REALLY? I think I am SOOOOO special that I can call out- by name– other people and judge them? I was reeling from this realization and worse, out came the shame. I told no one for a week. I typically sustain my shame resilience by talking to my inner circle just as soon as possible. It had been a long time since I had considered growing shame by silence.

To give myself some credit, I have grown in this area immensely. Before waking up to my life and growing from victim to survivor, I was asleep. Hhuuucchheewww……HHhhuuuccchhheewwww…..I lived my life without clarity, compassion or connection. I wallowed in negativity and I was my own worst target. I participated in a level of self hatred that resembled an inner demon. Judgement was my middle name. I was an ugly person.

Here is how things tend to go now:

I have an interaction with a person or a system and it does not meet my expectations. I become angry and sometimes even enraged. I find someone that is safe, someone who has earned the right to know my story and then, I emotionally throw up all over them. I hop up and down believing those initial moments of anger give me the right to be judgmental. Judge. Judge. Judgy Pants. Whew! I can get on a roll if I let myself.

But I never stay there long. I work hard at watering my empathy and compassion. I put emphasis on expressing gratitude and like any good therapist, I reframe what has happened, seeking out the nugget of goodness that always exists. The struggle lies in that I have been such a strong believer that bottling up the frustration and anger is not in my best interest. But seriously, if you heard me, I sound like a self-righteous bitch. The truth is I am not better and the more I judge, the more I act like I am separate from others.

Finally, the week passes and I tell my spouse my revelation. And like much of the good wisdom I learn in life, he called me back to some of the Buddhist principles he actively works on himself. He told me that when I talked about what I was experiencing that to maintain what the buddhists call “right speech” and “right relationship” I would speak what I was feeling- what I was experiencing. It could relieve that struggle and keep me away from judging others. For example, someone does not follow through with an agreement. I can talk about feeling disappointed and hurt, even angry, but that every statement I made about what I perceived was true about them (and inevitably negative) was just an assumption. The only thing true is what I am feeling. Everything else is me ranting with my judgy pants on.

 I am shaken. NOW WHAT DO I SAY? I thought my bestest friends were suppose to hear me bitch and moan. How do I successfully relinquish my feelings without judgement? I can’t keep acting like I am separate. Because the truth is I am separate from nothing and at any time, I could be that person that made that awful mistake. I have been that person that someone else is hopping up and down about to their best friend.

 So I need a life line. I have studied and read and studied Brene Brown’s work. But if I could call her up and ask her to help me understand how she successfully gives up judgement, I would be a happy girl. Give me the formula (or better yet, an elixir)!

Among my favorite phrase’s of the beloved Zen Master Thich Nhat Hanh is, “NO MUD, NO LOTUS.” So today, I might be making mud cake, but perhaps one day a lotus will bloom and I will experience more success in practicing loving kindness rather than judgement. 

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Professional Snarky Behaviors

One morning, my colleague sent me an email and I could tell her blood was boiling. She was angry and hurt when she searched for her news article by using the word “therapy” in the Walton County Tribune and the first article below is what came up. Collectively, we took action and devised a response. This piece goes out to every person who has felt they could not speak or feel heard when their invisible wounds were bullied. My response will appear in the Sunday, September 29th Paper of the Walton County Tribune.

Michael Lynch Editorial From Walton County Tribune:
Disorders for Everyone, printed on July 20, 2013

My head hurts. Let me be clear, I mean this figuratively. I have to use this disclaimer in order to ensure that some new and exotic condition is not randomly assigned to me by an over-educated behavioral health specialist with little common sense.
Why do I say this?
Because of the following headline published this week: “Able-Bodied Woman Wants Surgery to Make Her Paraplegic.” That’s right — no typo here. A 58-year-old Colorado woman wants to have surgery so her legs will stop working. Why, you may ask? Because she has Body Integrity Identity Disorder.
I do not intend to demean mental illness, but it seems we have gotten to a point where any behavior or desire can be explained away by a new-found disorder. I wonder if this has anything to do with the fact that each new disorder justifies an expensive new drug to treat it?
Two of my favorites are Seasonal Affective Disorder and Attention Deficit Disorder. With SAD it seems that some people are prone to experience less than optimal feelings during winter. Wait a minute — I think I may have SAD! Every winter I find myself wishing I were somewhere in the Caribbean and I thought those feelings were normal. Apparently I simply needed medication! Walgreen’s here I come.
The opinion on ADD or ADHD is a bit more contentious. I know parents who swear their child would be incapable of functioning without their ADHD medication. I remember a day not too long ago — let’s call it the 1970s — when the only medication needed was a healthy dose of the back of a parent’s hand. Amazing how little Johnny may be spastic one minute and a model child the next after a dose of “parental medication.”
As a secondary treatment for this disorder, my parents also engaged in a radical therapy known as “play.” During this therapy, they would send us outside to run around, get dirty, explore and expend energy. I don’t know if the World Health Organization has conducted any studies aimed at exploring why “play therapy” seems so effective in bringing down a child’s energy level. Perhaps they can obtain a grant to do so under the Affordable Health Care Act.
As previously stated, there should be no doubt that certain conditions exist. The problem arises when the conditions are applied haphazardly due to parents’ and clinicians’ ineptitude in diagnosing root causes for behavior. Does Sally have a pituitary problem? No, she has been consuming 42 Oreos each day for breakfast over the last two years!
Much like in other areas of our society, we are too eager to make excuses. We seem relieved when a fancy term can be applied to explain away what was normal behavior 30 years ago. Your homework for this week is to go to your parents or an older friend and ask them to smack you in the back of the head. Hard. Lord knows it can’t hurt.

 

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A Response to Michael Lynch: Leave the Snarky Behavior to the REAL Professionals

My head hurts and I do not mean figuratively. I have to recognize that every time another person chooses to demean an educated behavioral health specialist, every human who has ever suffered from a real diagnosable mental health issue gets a smack to the head, causing me a mental headache. So here, a disclaimer should be noted that if you suffer from headaches and no other relatable symptoms, a neurologist and not myself, a mental health professional, would be the best fit. 

Why Do I Say this?
Because headaches are only one accompanying symptom in a small number of major mental health disorders and a headache sufferer may have a neurological disorder disabling the brain from thinking clearly. A headache alone is not in the Diagnostic and Statistic Manual of Mental Health Disorders (DSM). I currently have clarity as to why my headache exists, but for many, professional advice from the correct medical provider may be warranted.

Sometimes our neurology can lead to unexplainable circumstances. A headline published in the Huffington Post on July 20, 2013, “Able-Bodied Woman Wants Surgery to Make Her Paraplegic.”
That’s right-no typo here. 58 year old Chloe Jennings, a chemist with a Ph.D, wants to have surgery so her legs will stop working. Why, you may ask? Because she has Body Integrity Identity Disorder. Oh But Wait, this is such a rare and unstudied condition, that it is ALSO not in the DSM. A mental health professional cannot diagnose this condition either. Okay, so another disclaimer: a mental health professional must practice including diagnoses within their area of competency. This diagnosis does not exist in the DSM. One reason may be that research that has been or currently are being conducted on this particular disorder has as few as 50 people, in comparison to thousands who have participated in studies about depression or anxiety disorders.

Anytime a person says that there is not intention to demean- the intention is out rightly demeaning. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings…..but” (I am going to anyway). It seems we have allowed ourselves to continue to perpetuate verbal violence against what we cannot physically see, like depression and anxiety, and feel justified in emotionally preying upon people who may not have the ability or the motivation to let their voice be louder than compassion and understanding.

Body Integrity Identity Disorder has been studied since at least the 1980’s so there is no “new-found disorder.” So despite just learning about it while internet surfing, I doubt that any drug company will bother marketing new drugs that affect such a small population that has been studied long before the internet could sensationalize anything.

Two favorite mental health diagnoses that people like to demean are people who suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). These are mental health disorders that people actually suffer from that can be found in the DSM. With SAD, people are prone to experience: a general malaise or lack of motivation, hopelessness, anxiety, socially withdraw from friends and family, oversleep regularly (also called hyper-somnia), loss of interest in activities, appetite changes with weight gain and difficulty concentrating. But wait, to have this diagnosis these symptoms (and I quote): have to significantly affect the persons ability to function on a daily basis.

Every fall and winter a person with SAD wishes they were no where but in their bed hiding out from the world. They wish the thoughts of just wanting to disappear would go away so they could have normal feelings again. For some, medication to help augment their disappearing happy neurotransmitters are necessary. A behavioral health professional would always say medication is never enough and therapy to create lasting healing and change are necessary. If a therapist believes medication is warranted a referral out to a psychiatrist would be appropriate here as only a physician can prescribe medications.

The opinion on ADD or Attention Deficit Hyper Activity Disorder (ADHD) is a bit more complicated. First, each is a different disorder with different types of symptoms. A child or adult with ADD struggles with attention, focus and a level of distraction that affects their ability to cope and function on a daily basis. ADHD has these symptoms as well as the added component of hyperactivity. Children with this diagnosis cannot focus and lack impulse control beyond what a typical child (dependent upon age) may do. A child with these diagnoses have difficulty learning, they are labeled as the class clown and a trouble maker in school. They often are inappropriate, will hit, bite, scream and when the executive functioning of their brain feels overwhelmed can even self harm in an attempt to quell the excruciating pain they experience desperate to not act out in anger. There is no doubt this diagnosis and medication is over used, however, the over use of the “parental medication” of hitting a child’s head, as far back as the 70’s possibly, has what led us today to an entire government run department of family and children services. Children can now be removed from their parents care when the ongoing and inappropriate use of physical force leads to concussions and trauma as a result of a loved one mistreating their child. I know parents, teachers, physicians and extended family who know their child would be incapable of functioning without medication. If parents of unmedicated ADD or ADHD children were completely honest, they would have to admit they may unintentionally physically harm their child in an attempt to stop their children from participating in ongoing egregious behaviors.

A primary, not secondary treatment for ADD and ADHD is play therapy. Medication prescribed by a psychiatrist should again, augment the process, not be the cure. The main organization that studies this type of therapy is the Association of Play Therapy (APT). This world wide organization has been studying play therapy for the treatment of many types of disorders since its founding in the 1920’s. The primary goal of the affordable health care act is to provide health care, including mental health care to more people in the United States. Grant money is likely not available to the APT. As well, the primary goal of the World Health Organization is to examine how unhealthy diet and lack of physical activity increases chronic diseases. ADD or ADHD is not a disease and this organization does not recognize ADD or ADHD as a disease so would not be suitable in studying play therapy.

It is clearly being stated here, there are no doubts that real mental health disorders exist. The problem arises when the conditions are applied haphazardly by people who are not educated on the real facts of mental health. Let’s leave these diagnoses that are intended to communicate useful information to real experts. A parent knows when their child is suffering beyond the “normal” and clinicians can be present to guide parents, families and individuals towards genuine emotional health and stability.

If Sally does have a pituitary problem she should seek medical support from an endocrinologist, not a behavioral health specialist. If she has been consuming 42 Oreos every breakfast for the past two years and came for counseling, most therapists would want Sally to have a consult with a specialist like an endocrinologist before pursuing possible major mental health issues. Final disclaimer: in order to receive a mental health disorder, not only does a person have to meet a specified amount of criteria, but they must also safely rule out many other possibilities.

The use of mental health terminology in our daily life has led people to believe that they too can look up information on the internet and appropriately diagnose with fancy terms to make us all “crazy” or worse, that everyone else in society is the problem and we are the only people that behave normally.

Your homework this week….hell, your homework in this life: Choose to Learn Instead of Fear. I have the privilege in this moment to share the knowledge I have gained over the last 13 years as a therapist. No smack to the head is going to jar knowledge into it. Take the time to understand how we can use our gifts to encourage growth and change. I feel certain that Chloe Jennings and every human who has ever suffered would appreciate our understanding rather than our judgment.

 

I AM THE COMPOST

I AM THE COMPOST

 

It can be a lonely journey being a therapist. You are often a wealth of others wonder, joy and sorrow. But, you cannot and will not share it in conversation. Sometimes, you hunger for a clinical confidant just to relieve the pressure of being emotionally stuffed with story after story. 

 

I sometimes imagine what it would be like to walk into a room full or every client I have ever been in relationship with. In my mind, its like a formal family reunion. Everyone stands around casually talking amongst themselves, holding ordevorves and drinks in hand.  I am well dressed (of course) in a perfectly fitted black dress, heels and a smashing color of red lipstick. I am a little terrified and excited because some would be excited to see me; we would embrace warmly with bright smiles. Others might smile but hang back, as I am a reminder of their open wounds. A handful would be angry at my presence and continue to project that into my direction with hollow glares. Still, others may not even recognize me and certainly, I may not as well. I imagine that I would feel an extreme sense of overwhelming emotions; crushing moments of joy and fear. 

 

 

Of course, what I would want to know, more than anything, is to hear the rest of each person’s story, especially those that remain angry and hurting. However, this is just a wish. For so many, my relationship with a client or family is just a blip on their journey. I have the privilege to join them on their paths for only a moment and I will not be a part of so much of their life after. So, I used to say, “My job in the world is to plant seeds.” I thought these were carefully chosen words that accurately reflected my role as a therapist. I rarely get to know the fullness of emotional growth that has become of my people.  These words would fall out of me in casual conversation when others reflected kind words about their impression of what kind of therapist I must be. I thought my words about seeds were fair, not owning the process, until one day, I had to change my mind about my words. 

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One wet autumn, I had a transformative experience on the Mountain. At the edge of Georgia, in the North Carolina mountains, I attended my first Unitarian Universalist Leadership Experience. Eighty people read and sat with systems theory for an entire weekend, something that as a clinician who has spent her career excavating the lives of other people using these concepts, made my heart sing! We ended a moment where the entire group came together to share ideas related too a set of provided scenarios. I had the privilege of sharing the systemic concepts that the group understood and it was joyous as the facilitator openly stated that some of the ideas about the system had not even been considered by herself. We later trailed off into our separate more intimate groups and once again, a participant noted what she perceived were the quality of my skills. I blurted out my standard perfunctory seed response and walked away. But this time, it was all wrong…….I was bewildered for hours. I was preoccupied with my need to take back what I said, say something else! But what? 

I am not the farmer in a clients life. I have no business deciding what is planted. I have no place in laying down what will later become the crop. I am something else entirely. I am not the soil either, that is already there, aching to be fertile. Instead, I am the left over food rind, worm and fly larvae all mushed together. I am smelly and dark. I am a living organism unto myself, but I can share of myself to prepare a harvest for another when they are ripe and ready. I AM THE COMPOST. If you give me the privilege of being in therapeutic communion with you, the possibilities to make whole what you see as unholy, are endless, like a well cultivated garden.