When I was little, spring was a time to rejoice. I have always hated winter, snow and cold are anathema to me, and I would look forward to spring with anticipation of the scents and sights that would fill me with joyful celebration. Budding leaves on the trees, flowers peeking their stems above ground, grass greening up - all are signs that the earth is coming full circle once again, and the time of renewal is upon us.
But for me, there is nothing more spring fever inducing than an Easter hat on a little girl's head. It is a sight I associate with everything I love about the spring, all rolled into one charming little display of hope.
When I was little, getting a new dress for Easter was An Event. It was so exciting, to be able to cast off the old winter outfits and don the new apparel that my mother would have sewn for me with her loving care. The dresses were always fresh and springy looking, floral prints or checks in pastel pinks and blues and yellows. I looked forward to getting new shoes, shiny white patent leather or perhaps even leather sandals to wear through the too short summer season.
The coup de grace, of course, was the Easter hat I would put upon my head. They were generally made of white straw, and would have ribbons streaming down the back to blow about in the gentle breeze as we went to and from church. I felt grown up in my Easter hat, special, different, because it wasn't something we did every day.
I don't know if there is anything similar for boys, but Easter hats have a draw all their own for most little girls. You can't explain it, you just have to feel it, that yearning for a beacon on your head that bears the good news that winter is leaving and summer is nearly upon us.
One time when my daughter was small, she must have been about three or so, we were at the store, and suddenly her eyes lit up with the wonder of something beyond special. She had seen The Easter Hat, with white ribbons, and she had to have it.
This was a ridiculous desire on her part, because she utterly refused to wear anything on her head, even in the dead of winter. Getting a hat tied under her chin was an ongoing battle, and she lost more mittens than most people have in a lifetime because she refused to keep them on her hands. Obviously, I was not going to indulge a whim for something she would never wear, and I declined to make the purchase.
Upon hearing no, her little nose turned red, as it always did when she cried, and her eyes welled up and silently overflowed with tears. Her little heart broken, she looked at me in wounded expectation that I would fix the problem by changing my mind. (There was, unfortunately, a fair amount of precedent for her faith in that outcome, since those watery eyes and that little nose were pretty hard to resist.)
We left the store with the hat firmly planted on her head, skewed a little sideways to allow for the price tag hanging down next to her face. It was part of the hat, she would not allow me to remove the tag. Proudly she wore that hat out to the car. (Fortunately, she did not realize the people snickering as she passed were laughing at her, not with her. Not that she would have cared.)
She climbed into her car seat in great satisfaction, not because she had gotten her way so much as because she was thrilled to be decked out in her new hat. Two minutes later the stress of the day caught up with her and she was asleep, hat still on her head, and tag still hanging in front of her face. It was a sight that filled me with an overwhelming love for her, and a wish that I could make all her dreams come true so easily.
I enjoy going to church on Easter Sunday and seeing all the little girls in their new Easter finery. They strut around the narthex with their parents, proudly showing off their new duds, frilly little dresses and shiny shoes topped off with a hat that makes them irresistible.
There are a lot of reasons to love having a little girl, but I would be lying if I didn't say one of them was dressing her up like a live doll in fancy clothes. Too bad it only lasts until she has an opinion of her own about how she wants to look. Which, in our case, started at birth, so that fun was short lived!
We celebrated her birthday a couple of weeks ago by indulging in that time honored mother-daughter activity, clothes shopping, as she spent her birthday money on much needed items. It is fun to shop with her, she has her own sense of style, and she is still not shy about wearing things her own way.
Sometimes, when I see a little girl in her Easter hat, I think about how lucky I am to have my own little girl in my life. She is now a grown up 19, forging ahead in her life as she always has, following her own path. I can't solve her problems with a new Easter hat any more; she has to find her own way now, and usually without my help.
But whenever I see a little girl in a her brand new Easter finery, I can't help but think about that moment when I could solve all of life's problems with a new hat, tag and all.
Happy birthday, precious daughter. Here's wishing you many more Easter hat moments to come....
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Calm in chaos.....
It seems insincere to write a blog post about something as catastrophic as the situation in Japan, and at first I ignored it on that basis. I am a mere blogger thousands of miles away - what could I possibly add to the discussion? But like everyone, I am wounded for their loss of life and property. It seems even more insincere at this point not to mention this horrendous tragedy, as though it doesn't matter. Thus, in my own insignificant way, I send my support to those who are suffering as best I can, with my thoughts and prayers.
Crisis reveals character, both of individuals, and of nations. Japan is in a crisis of epic proportions, but I am not surprised to see their national character emerging as calm, measured, and confident. If this crisis were occurring across most of the earth, we would be seeing rioting, looting, shootings, and other violent acts threatening to add to the chaos of the disaster itself. Japan is giving the world an awe inspiring display of national self-control, and it's an example that is both impressive and needed.
If a country in the midst of one of the greatest disasters in recorded history can peacefully pull itself together for the greater good, then surely we, as a species, should be able to find compromise on lesser crises without resorting to threats and violence.
I am wondering, if this were happening in the United States, would we be rising to the occasion this way? Recent history says no. Rioting, looting, shootings and fear accompany every disaster. Every natural occurrence seems to be an excuse to rage out of control, taking whatever we can get, whether it is right or not. Anarchy has become so rampant in disaster settings it is now perceived as normal and inevitable; out of the ordinary when it doesn't occur.
I think the world needs to take a lesson from the Japanese today. Their extraordinary response, even in the uncertainty, and their focus on solutions, has given us all a vision of another alternative. Recriminations will surely come, but it will be an ideological bloodbath, not a real one.
My heart and prayers go out to the people of Japan, and I sorrow for those who have lost everything, especially loved ones. I pray that their national character will continue to remain stoic and calm. They are showing the rest of the world the possiblities, and it gives me great hope.
I pray for my children that somehow, they will live in a world like that.
Crisis reveals character, both of individuals, and of nations. Japan is in a crisis of epic proportions, but I am not surprised to see their national character emerging as calm, measured, and confident. If this crisis were occurring across most of the earth, we would be seeing rioting, looting, shootings, and other violent acts threatening to add to the chaos of the disaster itself. Japan is giving the world an awe inspiring display of national self-control, and it's an example that is both impressive and needed.
If a country in the midst of one of the greatest disasters in recorded history can peacefully pull itself together for the greater good, then surely we, as a species, should be able to find compromise on lesser crises without resorting to threats and violence.
I am wondering, if this were happening in the United States, would we be rising to the occasion this way? Recent history says no. Rioting, looting, shootings and fear accompany every disaster. Every natural occurrence seems to be an excuse to rage out of control, taking whatever we can get, whether it is right or not. Anarchy has become so rampant in disaster settings it is now perceived as normal and inevitable; out of the ordinary when it doesn't occur.
I think the world needs to take a lesson from the Japanese today. Their extraordinary response, even in the uncertainty, and their focus on solutions, has given us all a vision of another alternative. Recriminations will surely come, but it will be an ideological bloodbath, not a real one.
My heart and prayers go out to the people of Japan, and I sorrow for those who have lost everything, especially loved ones. I pray that their national character will continue to remain stoic and calm. They are showing the rest of the world the possiblities, and it gives me great hope.
I pray for my children that somehow, they will live in a world like that.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Dog's life...
Humans are a perverse species. One of our common, and more entertaining, characteristics is the whimsical way we make decisions.
Dogs? They do whatever they feel like at the moment, and usually with total abandon. They don't think about why they want to do it. They simply partake in life and let the chips fall where they may.
There is something to be said for a dog's life. There must be, because so many people seem to make decisions the same way.
I am not a dog. I think about things. Examine all sides. Consider the pros and cons. Worry about the consequences. Then, when I have carefully considered every single possible result, I reassess, just in case I might have missed something in the first go round. Finally, when I am absolutely sure of what I want to do, I move cautiously forward. And that is just over what to have for dinner.
I am not saying I am a worrier. I am cautious, thoughtful, considered. I don't like surprises. I want to know exactly where everything stands ahead of time, so that I can have my response prepared.
This is probably not the ideal personality for someone who works in sales. As I said before, people are perverse, and they make all kinds of nonsensical decisions for the most random reasons, or sometimes no apparent reason at all. They will make huge decisions on a whim, only to change their minds shortly thereafter. It is baffling to me. I am obviously not dog material. [I know, I know, I'm an owl.]
Most people also appear to me to be unrealistically optimistic about their own lives. You see a lot of this unwarranted confidence in my line of work, and I am always perplexed by it.
I sell insurance, thus I work with people who are preparing for the possibility of catastrophe in their lives. You would imagine people would take that very seriously, considering all the pros and cons involved, and making the most cautious of determinations regarding their long term prospects.
You would be wrong.
I spend time every week talking to people who have had multiple accidents, only to hear them tell me they want the least amount of auto coverage possible. Talk about positive thinking.
People who would think nothing of spending $50 on a meal out will ask to reduce coverage on their home by tens of thousands of dollars to save that $50 annually. I usually tell them that $50 is going to look like the worst investment they ever made if their house burns to the ground, but it is downright fascinating how many people tell me that won't happen, and want me to do it anyway.
Hope springs eternal, I guess.
Applied on a broader basis, that groundless optimism seems to apply to all aspects of life. We continue to overeat, even if we have health problems stemming from obesity, because we refuse to accept that it would cause a problem for us. We continue to be couch potatoes, despite clear evidence that exercising is good for our health, because we don't believe that our hearts will eventually clog up. We build houses on fault lines, we put cabins on sandy oceanfront property, we buy yachts in Missouri.
In decisions large and small, humans behave in unpredictable ways. We have invested a bazillion dollars into anti-terrorism measures in response to a threat that has killed a few thousand people over a period of many years, but we get in the car without a thought and drive all over creation at an exponentially higher risk that has killed hundreds of thousands in the same time frame. We buy lottery tickets, but aren't afraid of getting hit by lightening, which is more likely than hitting the jackpot. We are up in arms over restaurant inspections for trivial transgressions, then lick the batter bowl clean when we make a cake.
Humans are a mass of amusing contradictions. They are unpredictable and often irrational, but always entertaining. They are never so interesting, however, as when they don't realize they are being observed.
I had a random conversation this week with someone who made me think about that. He has a regular opportunity to speak to large groups of people, and commented on what he saw on one particular occasion. It made me laugh, because I had never thought before about how the watchers are, indeed, the watched, whether we know it or not.
While we sit in a mass of people listening to someone speak, we shift, we fidget, we think we are surreptitiously looking at our phone or our watch. We sit up, we slide down, we look around. Personally, I spend time looking at the ceiling, noticing how many light bulbs need replacement, and at other people, wondering what is going on in their heads. We feel anonymous, because we are part of a group, and we are observing the person up in front.
But in fact, as I know from performing solos over the years and from having been a teacher, the reverse is also true. When you are the one at the podium, you see what is going on in the audience, and you are aware of the activity that is occurring. You hear the coughing and see the nose picking. You hear the shuffling of papers. You are aware of the people coming and going. You notice if you are holding the crowd or losing them. You can observe when everyone starts looking at their watch, or if they are whispering amongst themselves. You realize it when someone falls asleep, especially if they start snoring and attracting the attention of those around them! [That leads to other entertaining behavior, as people naturally try to disassociate themselves from the perceived offender.]
It's a unique vantage point, because for all that you are together in a public place, most people are unaware that they are being observed, and they are simply themselves. It lends itself to humor quite often, even when someone is seriously paying attention, because most of us have goofy habits that are pretty funny, if we look at them from the proper perspective.
When confronted with the overwhelming situations that life throws our way, I find a lot humor in the minutiae of the everyday. If we are going to behave in ways that don't make sense, we should at least be able to laugh at ourselves for it. Although we have more worries and cares, there is nothing wrong with taking on a little of the dog's life.
Just don't chase any cars.
Dogs? They do whatever they feel like at the moment, and usually with total abandon. They don't think about why they want to do it. They simply partake in life and let the chips fall where they may.
There is something to be said for a dog's life. There must be, because so many people seem to make decisions the same way.
I am not a dog. I think about things. Examine all sides. Consider the pros and cons. Worry about the consequences. Then, when I have carefully considered every single possible result, I reassess, just in case I might have missed something in the first go round. Finally, when I am absolutely sure of what I want to do, I move cautiously forward. And that is just over what to have for dinner.
I am not saying I am a worrier. I am cautious, thoughtful, considered. I don't like surprises. I want to know exactly where everything stands ahead of time, so that I can have my response prepared.
This is probably not the ideal personality for someone who works in sales. As I said before, people are perverse, and they make all kinds of nonsensical decisions for the most random reasons, or sometimes no apparent reason at all. They will make huge decisions on a whim, only to change their minds shortly thereafter. It is baffling to me. I am obviously not dog material. [I know, I know, I'm an owl.]
Most people also appear to me to be unrealistically optimistic about their own lives. You see a lot of this unwarranted confidence in my line of work, and I am always perplexed by it.
I sell insurance, thus I work with people who are preparing for the possibility of catastrophe in their lives. You would imagine people would take that very seriously, considering all the pros and cons involved, and making the most cautious of determinations regarding their long term prospects.
You would be wrong.
I spend time every week talking to people who have had multiple accidents, only to hear them tell me they want the least amount of auto coverage possible. Talk about positive thinking.
People who would think nothing of spending $50 on a meal out will ask to reduce coverage on their home by tens of thousands of dollars to save that $50 annually. I usually tell them that $50 is going to look like the worst investment they ever made if their house burns to the ground, but it is downright fascinating how many people tell me that won't happen, and want me to do it anyway.
Hope springs eternal, I guess.
Applied on a broader basis, that groundless optimism seems to apply to all aspects of life. We continue to overeat, even if we have health problems stemming from obesity, because we refuse to accept that it would cause a problem for us. We continue to be couch potatoes, despite clear evidence that exercising is good for our health, because we don't believe that our hearts will eventually clog up. We build houses on fault lines, we put cabins on sandy oceanfront property, we buy yachts in Missouri.
In decisions large and small, humans behave in unpredictable ways. We have invested a bazillion dollars into anti-terrorism measures in response to a threat that has killed a few thousand people over a period of many years, but we get in the car without a thought and drive all over creation at an exponentially higher risk that has killed hundreds of thousands in the same time frame. We buy lottery tickets, but aren't afraid of getting hit by lightening, which is more likely than hitting the jackpot. We are up in arms over restaurant inspections for trivial transgressions, then lick the batter bowl clean when we make a cake.
Humans are a mass of amusing contradictions. They are unpredictable and often irrational, but always entertaining. They are never so interesting, however, as when they don't realize they are being observed.
I had a random conversation this week with someone who made me think about that. He has a regular opportunity to speak to large groups of people, and commented on what he saw on one particular occasion. It made me laugh, because I had never thought before about how the watchers are, indeed, the watched, whether we know it or not.
While we sit in a mass of people listening to someone speak, we shift, we fidget, we think we are surreptitiously looking at our phone or our watch. We sit up, we slide down, we look around. Personally, I spend time looking at the ceiling, noticing how many light bulbs need replacement, and at other people, wondering what is going on in their heads. We feel anonymous, because we are part of a group, and we are observing the person up in front.
But in fact, as I know from performing solos over the years and from having been a teacher, the reverse is also true. When you are the one at the podium, you see what is going on in the audience, and you are aware of the activity that is occurring. You hear the coughing and see the nose picking. You hear the shuffling of papers. You are aware of the people coming and going. You notice if you are holding the crowd or losing them. You can observe when everyone starts looking at their watch, or if they are whispering amongst themselves. You realize it when someone falls asleep, especially if they start snoring and attracting the attention of those around them! [That leads to other entertaining behavior, as people naturally try to disassociate themselves from the perceived offender.]
It's a unique vantage point, because for all that you are together in a public place, most people are unaware that they are being observed, and they are simply themselves. It lends itself to humor quite often, even when someone is seriously paying attention, because most of us have goofy habits that are pretty funny, if we look at them from the proper perspective.
When confronted with the overwhelming situations that life throws our way, I find a lot humor in the minutiae of the everyday. If we are going to behave in ways that don't make sense, we should at least be able to laugh at ourselves for it. Although we have more worries and cares, there is nothing wrong with taking on a little of the dog's life.
Just don't chase any cars.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Life in the black hole....
For most of my life, I have struggled with a condition that is rarely discussed in polite company. That isn't due to shame or embarrassment on my part, because I feel neither, any more than I would be ashamed or embarrassed to admit I once had a brush with cancer or a burst colon (I have had both.) My condition is not something to hide. On the contrary, I think it is something to be brought out into the light of day and discussed, so that people will both recognize it and learn what it means to struggle with inner demons so powerful they can be terminal.
It doesn't go by one name - there are many variations on the theme - but it all boils down to one thing, mental illness, a term which makes people squirm and look away.
My own personal demon is severe chronic depression, a mental illness with lifelong implications and far reaching consequences, not only for me, but for everyone close to me. It has affected my ability to cope with everything in my life, and has colored my journey since I was a pre-teen. It induces fear in the people who love me, wondering when the next episode will occur and how bad it will be, and it affects my ability to navigate life, including holding down a regular job, being a mom, and interacting with people on a daily basis.
Like most true mental illness, severe chronic depression is not a one off event, a single incident of feeling down or blue. Depression, when you struggle with it as I have, is a lifelong battle against a demon that rages inside your head, threatening your very existence in a variety of ways. [Colorful language makes people uncomfortable, just like mental illness makes people uncomfortable. But ultimately, only by bringing it into the open can it be addressed, and that is what I try to do.]
Most of the people who know me well know about my struggle. I don't hide it, in fact, I talk about it frequently and openly, trying, in my own way, to shed light in the darkness. But it is a difficult topic on which to gain traction, because most people know so little about it, and don't want to think about it, so they turn away and change the subject, as if ignoring it makes it less real. People giggle nervously when I refer to myself as crazy, rushing to negate something which I know is, at least in part, uncomfortably true. [Just for the record - I know I have a mental illness. You don't need to make it okay by denying it on my behalf!]
I often use addiction as a frame of reference when trying to explain it to people, because most people are familiar with addiction as a condition. [Ironically, addiction seems to be more acceptable and more understood than a condition of the brain which is beyond our control and often our understanding. Personally, I find that frustrating and infuriating, but at least it gives people a base to start from.] I don't think you are ever "cured" of depression or any other mental illness, any more than you can think yourself out of an addiction. If you struggle with a mental illness, it will always be there waiting to attack your thoughts when you drop your guard. You must be on the lookout for the signs at all times, because otherwise it sneaks up on you like a cat burglar and steals your life before you even know it's there.
Why bring this up now? Because the last couple of weeks we have seen the very clear evidence of what unchecked mental illness does to the human it inhabits, and it makes me sad. But I also think it's an opportunity for everyone to finally start the discussion about what mental illness is, and what needs to be done when someone is out of their own control because of it.
Don't get me wrong, I am as guilty as everyone else for watching, and I am ashamed of myself for not being able to look away. I'm not usually a celebrity watcher, and Charlie Sheen isn't a celebrity I would ever have given the time of day previously. But his rather spectacular flame out has gotten my attention for the very public nature of the fireball he has become. He is everywhere, impossible to ignore, and every time he opens his mouth I have felt more sympathy for those who genuinely love him as they watch this spectacle unfold.
But as we all wantonly speculate on what is driving this train wreck, drugs, alcohol, mental illness, it is clear to me that more is at play than simple addiction. Charlie undeniably suffers from some form of mental illness - I think he has all along - and watching him racing out of control to the bottom is painful for me, because underneath it all, I sense a deep pain driving his erratic behavior, and in some general ways, I identify with it.
Although I don't struggle with the same demons he has inside his brain, I do understand being in the throes of mental illness, and it's not as simple as just thinking yourself free. I have had people tell me to just "snap out of it," to "appreciate what you do have," to "stop being so negative." If only it were that simple.
Speaking for myself, depression is a lonely affair with oneself. Your world is reduced to one thing, and one thing only, escaping from your personal pain. Nothing else matters, because that chronic pain is so overwhelming, you cannot see beyond it.
When I watch Charlie Sheen, hear his words, see the effects of his behavior on others, I see the same basic thing at play. He is out of control in his behavior because inside himself, he is out of control in his own head. He is running as fast as he can from his own feelings and emotions, because he doesn't know how to deal with them.
This is not to excuse anything he has said or done. There is no room for excuses when you threaten others or destroy people's security. Mental illness is not the reason he has threatened his loved ones, or put their lives at risk, and most mentally ill people do not threaten anyone except themselves.
But I do recognize the frantic search for something, anything, that will make him feel better, and the destruction that goes along with that. Like addiction, it rules your life and your behavior, and it won't stop until you are ready to confront it and do the work to make the changes within yourself that are required.
I have had to accept that my journey out of the dark pit into the light is one that will not end until my life ends. I flirt with the edge constantly, looking into the abyss with curiosity, not because I want to, but because I can't help myself. I liken it to a black hole - it sucks up everything in it's sphere, and you simply cannot help being drawn in. It's not about what you want, the force is greater than your will.
Medications help enormously, and I have finally learned, now that half my life is over, to accept that help the moment I realize I'm dangling over the edge of the darkness again. I have perspective, because I have fought my way out of the all encompassing fog more than once, and I know it is possible now. I have learned to call my therapist, the tremendously talented David Miller, and go in for what I like to call a "tune-up," an opportunity to hear him tell me, once again, that I am not actually crazy, and what I'm feeling is temporary.
But I am disturbed that in the 21st century so many people still have 18th century ideas about mental illness. The taboo of talking about it is literally killing people. They are less afraid to put a bullet in their head than they are to admit they need help. How can that be in an enlightened time, I ask in bewilderment?
I would like to see this disturbing celebrity flame out turn into an opportunity to talk about what mental illness really is, what it does to the human spirit, how it affects people who struggle with it, and how lives are changed when it is a part of their world. Charlie Sheen hasn't elevated anyone with his money, his previous antics or his award winning show where he apparently (I have never seen it, so I can only go by what I've read) plays a more sympathetic version of himself. But Charlie, and his family and friends, have an opportunity to start a conversation in this country about what mental illness is and how it affects people, regardless of how much money they have or what resources they have at their disposal. That is a conversation that needs to occur, and it would be one way for him to redeem what little is left of himself.
And he needs redemption, not for us, but for him. Because it will give him a reason to get better, which is good for his family, no matter how the rest of us feel about it.
I am fortunate, because in the midst of a crushing illness which occasionally threatens my very life, I have the love and support of people who don't hesitate to tell me I am sick and need help. In return, I think I owe it to them to be honest about my illness, and to talk to others about what it means to struggle with the inner demons that are as life threatening as any other potentially terminal illness. Because make no mistake about it, mental illness is terminal without treatment. Suicide can be fast or slow, but it ends the same way no matter how it is accomplished.
Charlie Sheen has a unique stage from which to discuss the effects of mental illness. I am not so delusional as to think he will, but how I wish he would. If an out of control celebrity can turn his life around, imagine what the rest of us could do. Come on Charlie. You are one man who can move millions. Do it for your kids, do it for your family, do it for you. It would be the comeback of the century, and we would all be better off for it.
It doesn't go by one name - there are many variations on the theme - but it all boils down to one thing, mental illness, a term which makes people squirm and look away.
My own personal demon is severe chronic depression, a mental illness with lifelong implications and far reaching consequences, not only for me, but for everyone close to me. It has affected my ability to cope with everything in my life, and has colored my journey since I was a pre-teen. It induces fear in the people who love me, wondering when the next episode will occur and how bad it will be, and it affects my ability to navigate life, including holding down a regular job, being a mom, and interacting with people on a daily basis.
Like most true mental illness, severe chronic depression is not a one off event, a single incident of feeling down or blue. Depression, when you struggle with it as I have, is a lifelong battle against a demon that rages inside your head, threatening your very existence in a variety of ways. [Colorful language makes people uncomfortable, just like mental illness makes people uncomfortable. But ultimately, only by bringing it into the open can it be addressed, and that is what I try to do.]
Most of the people who know me well know about my struggle. I don't hide it, in fact, I talk about it frequently and openly, trying, in my own way, to shed light in the darkness. But it is a difficult topic on which to gain traction, because most people know so little about it, and don't want to think about it, so they turn away and change the subject, as if ignoring it makes it less real. People giggle nervously when I refer to myself as crazy, rushing to negate something which I know is, at least in part, uncomfortably true. [Just for the record - I know I have a mental illness. You don't need to make it okay by denying it on my behalf!]
I often use addiction as a frame of reference when trying to explain it to people, because most people are familiar with addiction as a condition. [Ironically, addiction seems to be more acceptable and more understood than a condition of the brain which is beyond our control and often our understanding. Personally, I find that frustrating and infuriating, but at least it gives people a base to start from.] I don't think you are ever "cured" of depression or any other mental illness, any more than you can think yourself out of an addiction. If you struggle with a mental illness, it will always be there waiting to attack your thoughts when you drop your guard. You must be on the lookout for the signs at all times, because otherwise it sneaks up on you like a cat burglar and steals your life before you even know it's there.
Why bring this up now? Because the last couple of weeks we have seen the very clear evidence of what unchecked mental illness does to the human it inhabits, and it makes me sad. But I also think it's an opportunity for everyone to finally start the discussion about what mental illness is, and what needs to be done when someone is out of their own control because of it.
Don't get me wrong, I am as guilty as everyone else for watching, and I am ashamed of myself for not being able to look away. I'm not usually a celebrity watcher, and Charlie Sheen isn't a celebrity I would ever have given the time of day previously. But his rather spectacular flame out has gotten my attention for the very public nature of the fireball he has become. He is everywhere, impossible to ignore, and every time he opens his mouth I have felt more sympathy for those who genuinely love him as they watch this spectacle unfold.
But as we all wantonly speculate on what is driving this train wreck, drugs, alcohol, mental illness, it is clear to me that more is at play than simple addiction. Charlie undeniably suffers from some form of mental illness - I think he has all along - and watching him racing out of control to the bottom is painful for me, because underneath it all, I sense a deep pain driving his erratic behavior, and in some general ways, I identify with it.
Although I don't struggle with the same demons he has inside his brain, I do understand being in the throes of mental illness, and it's not as simple as just thinking yourself free. I have had people tell me to just "snap out of it," to "appreciate what you do have," to "stop being so negative." If only it were that simple.
Speaking for myself, depression is a lonely affair with oneself. Your world is reduced to one thing, and one thing only, escaping from your personal pain. Nothing else matters, because that chronic pain is so overwhelming, you cannot see beyond it.
When I watch Charlie Sheen, hear his words, see the effects of his behavior on others, I see the same basic thing at play. He is out of control in his behavior because inside himself, he is out of control in his own head. He is running as fast as he can from his own feelings and emotions, because he doesn't know how to deal with them.
This is not to excuse anything he has said or done. There is no room for excuses when you threaten others or destroy people's security. Mental illness is not the reason he has threatened his loved ones, or put their lives at risk, and most mentally ill people do not threaten anyone except themselves.
But I do recognize the frantic search for something, anything, that will make him feel better, and the destruction that goes along with that. Like addiction, it rules your life and your behavior, and it won't stop until you are ready to confront it and do the work to make the changes within yourself that are required.
I have had to accept that my journey out of the dark pit into the light is one that will not end until my life ends. I flirt with the edge constantly, looking into the abyss with curiosity, not because I want to, but because I can't help myself. I liken it to a black hole - it sucks up everything in it's sphere, and you simply cannot help being drawn in. It's not about what you want, the force is greater than your will.
Medications help enormously, and I have finally learned, now that half my life is over, to accept that help the moment I realize I'm dangling over the edge of the darkness again. I have perspective, because I have fought my way out of the all encompassing fog more than once, and I know it is possible now. I have learned to call my therapist, the tremendously talented David Miller, and go in for what I like to call a "tune-up," an opportunity to hear him tell me, once again, that I am not actually crazy, and what I'm feeling is temporary.
But I am disturbed that in the 21st century so many people still have 18th century ideas about mental illness. The taboo of talking about it is literally killing people. They are less afraid to put a bullet in their head than they are to admit they need help. How can that be in an enlightened time, I ask in bewilderment?
I would like to see this disturbing celebrity flame out turn into an opportunity to talk about what mental illness really is, what it does to the human spirit, how it affects people who struggle with it, and how lives are changed when it is a part of their world. Charlie Sheen hasn't elevated anyone with his money, his previous antics or his award winning show where he apparently (I have never seen it, so I can only go by what I've read) plays a more sympathetic version of himself. But Charlie, and his family and friends, have an opportunity to start a conversation in this country about what mental illness is and how it affects people, regardless of how much money they have or what resources they have at their disposal. That is a conversation that needs to occur, and it would be one way for him to redeem what little is left of himself.
And he needs redemption, not for us, but for him. Because it will give him a reason to get better, which is good for his family, no matter how the rest of us feel about it.
I am fortunate, because in the midst of a crushing illness which occasionally threatens my very life, I have the love and support of people who don't hesitate to tell me I am sick and need help. In return, I think I owe it to them to be honest about my illness, and to talk to others about what it means to struggle with the inner demons that are as life threatening as any other potentially terminal illness. Because make no mistake about it, mental illness is terminal without treatment. Suicide can be fast or slow, but it ends the same way no matter how it is accomplished.
Charlie Sheen has a unique stage from which to discuss the effects of mental illness. I am not so delusional as to think he will, but how I wish he would. If an out of control celebrity can turn his life around, imagine what the rest of us could do. Come on Charlie. You are one man who can move millions. Do it for your kids, do it for your family, do it for you. It would be the comeback of the century, and we would all be better off for it.
Monday, February 14, 2011
The only sex I want on the beach is in a glass.....
Since my divorce five years ago, I have learned something, much to my amusement, and have been waiting for just the right moment to share it with the world. Valentine's Day seems like the perfect occasion to spread this fun news.
Single women my age make everyone nervous. Or at least the divorced ones seem to.
They say knowledge is power, and this is a powerful truth I'm sharing with you today. Whenever a middle aged divorced woman walks into a room, a ripple of discomfort wells up, and everyone starts to worry. I've never had so much control, and I'm not gonna lie, I'm enjoying it. Who knew being scarlet could be so entertaining?
However, in the spirit of sharing the love that is Valentine's Day, I offer here some words of comfort to dispel the panic that ensues every time a middle aged divorced woman makes a public appearance.
Married women my age get nervous because they are afraid I'm after their own particular version of Prince Charming. Ladies, I'm thrilled you have found your one true love, but I'm not really into balding, middle aged men who think farting out loud is an accomplishment worthy of applause.
Married men my age get nervous because they are afraid I'm going to put ideas into the heads of their wives. Interesting factoid. Single women have the longest average life span, married women the shortest. I don't know. Just throwing it out there. Something to think about.
Single men my age get nervous because they have been told that all middle aged single women are desperate, and they are afraid I will try to cozy up with them, when what they really want is someone half my age to make them feel half theirs. News flash. That lightning survey from a few years back that you cling to like the Bible? It was conducted by men, and the women all lied because they didn't want you to know how much fun they were having without you.
Younger women, married or single, get nervous, because they know they will be my age someday, and they don't want to think about it. Ladies! I have a secret for you. Being my age is fun. I am finally old enough not to care about what anyone else thinks, as long as I am doing what I think is right. It doesn't really matter to me any more how the world judges my merits, because I have the self-confidence to understand that I am good enough, just as I am. I am here to tell you, the real women's liberation is turning 50, and I'm embracing it.
Younger married men get nervous because they feel like someone's mother just walked into the room and they have their hand in the cookie jar. We don't care. We're just thinking too many cookies spoil your dinner, and they make you fat.
Younger single men get nervous, because they have been watching too much Cougar Town, and think of themselves as live bait. Trust me, gentlemen. Most of us have no interest in being a real life Demi Moore. Personally, I'm too lazy to get the body and I never had the face to begin with. Not to mention, when I have a conversation, I like the person to have the same frame of reference for life. I don't know about other women, but Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles as sage authority figures isn't going to cut it for me.
Lest I leave the wrong impression, I'm not a man-hater, and I'm not against being in a relationship, if that is what God has in mind for me. I just know who I picked the first time around, and I have accepted that I am not good at it. (Read abysmal. Trust me. I'm aware. LOTS of regretting at leisure has occurred.)
So I am leaving things up to God. As I am fond of saying, if He has someone in mind for me, then He will bring them through the door and drop them in my lap. That will be my first clue. I don't really see it happening, but hey, anything's possible. Moses did part the Red Sea and Noah built an ark entirely on faith.
For now, like many single women my age, I'm not worrying about men, or finding the one perfect relationship out of all the possibilities in the universe.
I'm enjoying having the closet all to myself. I read at 3 a.m. in my bed because I can. I have popcorn for breakfast and pancakes for dinner. I keep my thermostat at the temperature that is comfortable for me, and I am in charge of the remote control. I don't keep the house as clean as I should, but no one cares. I practice the piano for hours just because I feel like it, and no one complains that I am playing the same piece for the hundreth time. I can go to any event I want to, even at the last second, and I can blow it off at the last minute, and no one knows the difference. I can sit out in my hot tub and contemplate the stars in quiet thoughtfulness without having to worry about what someone else is thinking. The only broken eggshells in my world go down the garbage disposal, my dogs are the only ones who know if I work until 8 p.m. and I never have to explain myself to anyone. (Well, except my kids, who have pretty much learned to just take it as it comes.)
It can be hard to be single when everyone around you appears happily coupled up, especially on a day dedicated to the celebration of what you don't have. (Although, devil's advocate that I am, I would just point out that appearances can be deceiving.) Our culture emphasizes it, everyone seems to be searching for it, life revolves around the possibility of it, people despair because of the futility of not having it. But it is eminently possible to have a rich, full life and enjoy what we do have, even if it looks different than what society tells us we should want.
We don't have a day dedicated to being single, but I celebrate it every time I walk through my door and the castle is entirely mine. Being unhappily married was the hardest thing I've ever done. Being single, simply, satisfyingly, successfully single, can be a thing of beauty and a joy forever.
Oh, and the whole sex on the beach thing? I'll take mine in a glass, with a bowl of chips on the side.
Waiter?
Single women my age make everyone nervous. Or at least the divorced ones seem to.
They say knowledge is power, and this is a powerful truth I'm sharing with you today. Whenever a middle aged divorced woman walks into a room, a ripple of discomfort wells up, and everyone starts to worry. I've never had so much control, and I'm not gonna lie, I'm enjoying it. Who knew being scarlet could be so entertaining?
However, in the spirit of sharing the love that is Valentine's Day, I offer here some words of comfort to dispel the panic that ensues every time a middle aged divorced woman makes a public appearance.
Married women my age get nervous because they are afraid I'm after their own particular version of Prince Charming. Ladies, I'm thrilled you have found your one true love, but I'm not really into balding, middle aged men who think farting out loud is an accomplishment worthy of applause.
Married men my age get nervous because they are afraid I'm going to put ideas into the heads of their wives. Interesting factoid. Single women have the longest average life span, married women the shortest. I don't know. Just throwing it out there. Something to think about.
Single men my age get nervous because they have been told that all middle aged single women are desperate, and they are afraid I will try to cozy up with them, when what they really want is someone half my age to make them feel half theirs. News flash. That lightning survey from a few years back that you cling to like the Bible? It was conducted by men, and the women all lied because they didn't want you to know how much fun they were having without you.
Younger women, married or single, get nervous, because they know they will be my age someday, and they don't want to think about it. Ladies! I have a secret for you. Being my age is fun. I am finally old enough not to care about what anyone else thinks, as long as I am doing what I think is right. It doesn't really matter to me any more how the world judges my merits, because I have the self-confidence to understand that I am good enough, just as I am. I am here to tell you, the real women's liberation is turning 50, and I'm embracing it.
Younger married men get nervous because they feel like someone's mother just walked into the room and they have their hand in the cookie jar. We don't care. We're just thinking too many cookies spoil your dinner, and they make you fat.
Younger single men get nervous, because they have been watching too much Cougar Town, and think of themselves as live bait. Trust me, gentlemen. Most of us have no interest in being a real life Demi Moore. Personally, I'm too lazy to get the body and I never had the face to begin with. Not to mention, when I have a conversation, I like the person to have the same frame of reference for life. I don't know about other women, but Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles as sage authority figures isn't going to cut it for me.
Lest I leave the wrong impression, I'm not a man-hater, and I'm not against being in a relationship, if that is what God has in mind for me. I just know who I picked the first time around, and I have accepted that I am not good at it. (Read abysmal. Trust me. I'm aware. LOTS of regretting at leisure has occurred.)
So I am leaving things up to God. As I am fond of saying, if He has someone in mind for me, then He will bring them through the door and drop them in my lap. That will be my first clue. I don't really see it happening, but hey, anything's possible. Moses did part the Red Sea and Noah built an ark entirely on faith.
For now, like many single women my age, I'm not worrying about men, or finding the one perfect relationship out of all the possibilities in the universe.
I'm enjoying having the closet all to myself. I read at 3 a.m. in my bed because I can. I have popcorn for breakfast and pancakes for dinner. I keep my thermostat at the temperature that is comfortable for me, and I am in charge of the remote control. I don't keep the house as clean as I should, but no one cares. I practice the piano for hours just because I feel like it, and no one complains that I am playing the same piece for the hundreth time. I can go to any event I want to, even at the last second, and I can blow it off at the last minute, and no one knows the difference. I can sit out in my hot tub and contemplate the stars in quiet thoughtfulness without having to worry about what someone else is thinking. The only broken eggshells in my world go down the garbage disposal, my dogs are the only ones who know if I work until 8 p.m. and I never have to explain myself to anyone. (Well, except my kids, who have pretty much learned to just take it as it comes.)
It can be hard to be single when everyone around you appears happily coupled up, especially on a day dedicated to the celebration of what you don't have. (Although, devil's advocate that I am, I would just point out that appearances can be deceiving.) Our culture emphasizes it, everyone seems to be searching for it, life revolves around the possibility of it, people despair because of the futility of not having it. But it is eminently possible to have a rich, full life and enjoy what we do have, even if it looks different than what society tells us we should want.
We don't have a day dedicated to being single, but I celebrate it every time I walk through my door and the castle is entirely mine. Being unhappily married was the hardest thing I've ever done. Being single, simply, satisfyingly, successfully single, can be a thing of beauty and a joy forever.
Oh, and the whole sex on the beach thing? I'll take mine in a glass, with a bowl of chips on the side.
Waiter?
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