An Ordinary Sacredness

This morning I felt—flat. We who have a history of depression know exactly what I mean when I say "flat." It is that feeling where there is no sadness or depression but a numbness and uncertainty of what one is feeling. It is almost indescribable and defies words yet "flat" seems to come close to describing this feeling. I started to wonder if I was lying to myself about feeling sad, not intentionally, but in seeking to stay positive in my thinking.

I didn't have any planned activity early in the morning until work later on in the early afternoon. This emotion was so pronounced that I begun to wonder what I should do about it. I have to be honest and admit that I was fearful that it may take me where I didn't want to go. I grabbed my Bible and another spiritual book and sat on my sofa. I started reading. I also had a bottle of water next to me and started sipping the water. A few sips later, I placed my Bible down and started paying attention. I wasn't just drinking water. I was enjoying its coolness on my lips and noticing its smoothness onto my tongue as it gently coursed down my throat. I wasn't just drinking the water, I was enjoying it. This attentiveness grew into appreciation of what I was doing—I was hydrating my body. I heard myself whisper, "Water is life." 

This mysterious whispering of "water is life" caught me by surprise. I immediately found myself reconsidering my initial thoughts about feeling flat. What I think I was calling flat was my initial inability to grasp that my body, mind and soul were desiring an "intentional stillness." I wasn't sad or flat or depressed, I just was in the state of being rather than doing. This attentiveness to the common act of just sipping water became a sacred moment.

I too invite you, to rethink your moments of flatness when they come. Like me, embedded in them may be the unfolding of a mysterious surprise and a sacred moment.

"It's My Head, Not my Heart"

( A Note: I wrote this 2 days ago; and wasn't sure I wanted to post it. I wrestled with doing so. I don't know why. Then I thought of maybe it wasn't written "the way" I wanted it to flow. Then today, I thought of my commitment to myself and to you. This is not a blog for "writing." This blog is about me being me...which means some days the writing may not write well and so I hope that it is precisely this authenticity and my love for persons living with mental illness and their daily stories of courage that ring true as more important than my writing skills. So today I decided that what was more important is Katerina's courage and her story not my writing. So I posted it.)

From my first post I decided that I wouldn't "force" a subject but delight myself in anticipation of what the day offers up. That way, my writing served or furthered no agenda. Actually, it is so liberating to not have a subject. It as if I am receiving a gift from self to self through the spontaneity of my writing. I suspect that this blog will take on a life of its own with a theme finally emerging.

Today is a day of struggling with sad thoughts and I called a friend who also lives with the condition of anxiety. I don’t know what in our conversation triggered my thoughts of Katerina but something did. It could be too that it wasn’t even the conversation but it was my heart that knew to whom to turn when my spirit was low. It was then I recalled Katerina’s words, “My heart is fine, it is my head.”

My contact with Katerina was by way of a peer mentoring. I was a peer to her. She was diagnosed with bi-polar and was living at a shelter and struggling with taking her medication and keeping her appointments with her therapist and case manager. As a peer, my job was one in which we were equals and co-journeyers on the path of wellness. My role was to share my story of mental illness, my road to wellness, to be her as mentor, assist her with linkages to community resources, instill hope and encourage to play an active role in making decisions about her health and the path to wellness.  

Initially, Katerina was having trust issues with me and given her past life experiences of abuse and betrayal I fully understood that was to be expected. I had been in her shoes and like her changed therapists a number times over the years before finding one that fitted with my personality and respected my autonomy to make decisions that I thought best for me. As a peer, I understood from my lived experience that Katerina needed to build a relationship with me before trust could govern our interactions. I told her that I knew that trust-building was a process and that I was willing to stay the course. Sharing with her that I had the experience of living with a mental illness was of great benefit and she let her guard down almost immediately.

Katerina and I would go on to build a deep relationship over time when she realized that my approach was one of radical acceptance, affirmation and respect for her to make choices even when those choices weren't ones I would have made. My only concern was that her choices wouldn't be harmful to her or others. She would later share experiences that she hadn't shared yet in therapy. When I ask her why she hadn't yet, she explained to me, "You are like me, you understand, you are not analyzing me, you are not here to fix me." I shared with Katerina my experiences with therapy and how beneficial it had been and that I too had to find a therapist that respected my active participation and role in my wellness and not expect me to be a "lame" recipient of services.

A year into being her peer, for personal reasons I had to take a break from my volunteering. As it is, it is often during times of saying good-bye that we learn how meaningful a relationship has become. I told Katerina immediately after telling my supervisor that I would be leaving giving her 2 months of notice. I was so concerned that another sever relationship would only reinforced her issues with trust. But it didn't, we had established such a rapport on life in general and not just on living with a mental illness that she understood that my leaving was strictly unrelated to my work as a peer and with her especially.

Throughout life we all will have thousands of words spoken between ourselves and others and of those spoken words there will be some said that will immediately be seared into our hearts and minds never to be forgotten again. It was on my last day with Katerina, we sat in my car talking having just returned from giving her ride to do her grocery shopping. I said to her, "I am going to miss you and I want you to know that it has been so humbling and an honor to have spent the last year with you. I am certain that if you stay on the path you are on now that you will return to a wellness that lets you live out the dreams and aspirations you have for yourself and shared with me. I know one day, you too will be the peer that you want to be. I am living proof Katerina that it not only may happen but it really does happen." Katerina looked at me and said, "I know though we are peers we still had some boundaries, but this once may I give you a hug?" I didn't answer, I just leaned in to her already open arms and wrapped my arms around her too. When we pulled apart, she continued, "You know, I don't know if people think WE are stupid and don't understand when they are being phonies. I hate phonies. Thank you for always being real with me and honest. You know Lilly, there isn't anything wrong with our hearts, it's our heads that don't always work the way we want them to. But our hearts are perfectly fine." 

Katerina, didn't expand on that. I understood and was not only immensely grateful that she had seen and appreciated how authentic a person I was with her; I was overjoyed beyond words that she had said "WE." She and I belonged to a community of persons that understood each other in a way that can only be done so through personal lived experience and though my peer mentoring was one that implicitly brought with it an embedded leadership, for Katerina we were two persons making a journey toward wellness. She understood that I was no different than a guide who had climb a mountain and now volunteer my time to accompany those who wanted to make the climb up to wellness.  

A Song at Dawn

This morning I awoke at my usual pre-dawn hours with a headache. I never want to start the day on a negative and I knew waking with a headache would soon lead into thinking about why I woke with a headache and worrying about why I was worrying. And that would feed on itself and would fester into, "well if I am worrying, there must be a reason for worrying though I can't identify the reason" and that would lead to me worrying about why I couldn't figure out what I was worrying about. You get the picture and see how those of us who have a mind that doesn't always function as healthily get ourselves into a bind that spirals deeper and deeper into negative thinking the more we linger in negativity.

So I got out of bed, walked over to my kneeler and prayed and then left my room to make a light breakfast. As I was making breakfast a song broke through and I started to sing. One song became another song and next thing I know I was making up my own song of praise and thanksgiving to God.

I took my bagel and tea over to the sofa, opened the drawer of the coffee table, took out my old hymnal and flipped its pages randomly. So begun a breakfast of songs of praise and thanksgiving, bagel and tea. The headache gradually became a barely noticeable ache. I sang to my heart's content, choosing songs at random, some from childhood like "The Lord of the Dance," and the old spiritual "Kumbaya my Lord" and others more traditional and theological like, "Holy God we Praise Thy Name." Somehow I wasn't choosing the songs; it seems like my soul was leading my thoughts away from the negativity and worry about the headache.

What this simple act of choosing to sing at dawn showed me is that by the end of my activity I still hadn’t a clue of why I woke with the headache. I hadn’t solved anything, if there was even anything to be solved. Perhaps my headache was simply that—a headache; not a worry about…to be solved. By choosing to live through the moment by engaging in a life-enhancing activity, the worry dissipated.

I wanted to share this today with you, hoping that if you too are experiencing a worry that has no known basis that you too find a "song" to draw you away from the worry. Your "song" maybe a walk in the park or by the water, sitting in quiet meditation, helping a person in need or journaling. Your "song" is anything that stirs the heart, returns peace of mind and refreshes your thinking to that of being positive. We who live with or have a history of mental illness seem to have brains wired toward negativity, but our hearts I am convinced aren't; we desire and long for peace, serenity and calm in our lives, we more so I believe than those who haven't had the experience of living with a mental illness. I believe this to be so because it is only having sailed through the fierce storms of mental illness that we more so also fully appreciate the serenity of calming and gentle movements of the mind.

May you find your song this day to still the worries that threaten your peace of mind. 

Wellness is a Journey....not a destination

I was visiting recently with my friend Norm, who is dying. It is incredible how much wisdom those who are dying well will impart. Yes, I meant to say, “dying well.” People die differently and some do it angrily and resist it in bitterness and full of regret right to the end. I have seen it, it is one of the saddest things to witness. Still, one may argue that even those who are not dying well inadvertently impart a different kind of wisdom as well. But that is not what I want to talk about.

Norm is 89 years of age and is in hospice care. He is also a person living with a diagnosed mental illness and on some days, his illness manifests itself in behaviors that are distressful for both Norm and those caring for and visiting with him. He is a living testimony of the reality that we who have lived with or are presently living with a mental illness may want to adopt a view that we are always on the path toward wellness. It is a journey right up to death. Norm lacks mobility; he has no use of his feet and has to be lifted to be placed in his wheelchair if he is to move around. He seldom leaves the bed because of his fear that if he does something bad will happen to him.  He spends every day in his bed and as he likes to put it, “I live here, I do everything here, I sleep, eat and go to the bathroom here; I don’t go anywhere.” Recently he told me he wanted at least 1 more year if not longer and that he is praying to God to answer his prayer.

I told Norm that I hope that his prayers are answered and that I will also pray for him. Given his lack of mobility and the frustration in which he said “I live here…,” I wondered how Norm would spend the time he was asking for. 

It goes without saying that such a prayer for time suggests that Norm still has plans for his life unrelated to his lack of mobility. So I asked him about what plans he had. He had no concrete plan of action. His plan was less to do with doing and everything to do with being.

He explained, “I can’t go anywhere from here, I want that time to take care of some unfinished business, if you know what I mean” and when he said that he raised his hand that was resting on his chest and touched his head first and then his heart. I replied, “Yes, Norm I understand what you mean.” He didn’t elaborate and I chose to honor his privacy by not questioning him about the specifics of his plan. Over the years, he had shared sufficient enough with me about his struggles with mental illness and his estranged relationships with family and friends as a result of his illness.

Norm got me to thinking how we are to be about seeking a life of wellness every day. And in musing on this, I too started to look at how well I have been doing about seeking after wellness. I saw that physically I can do better, commit to regularly exercising and make healthier choices in my eating though I try to make healthy choices presently. 

Looking at my spiritual life, I think that is where I have seen great strides with still a long way to go. My faith in God grounds me. I see how a life of spirituality has played an important role in the last 10 years of living without depression. A deep pray life, being a member of a faith community with other believers and daily quiet reflection and Scripture or some form of spiritual reading have become the foundation on which I have sustained my mental wellness without relapsing into depression.

Your journey may be different than mine or Norm's but what we share is that we are all moving toward a wellness that sustains or returns us to a life of balance and living a life filled with hope, dignity and meaning. And like Norm who grasps that he “isn’t going anywhere” physically, yet understands that his physical mobility is only a part of who he is as a person, so too may we grasp that being diagnosed and living with a mental illness is not the sum of who we are. Our journey toward wellness is one that involves body, heart, mind and soul, all interconnected but not always needing to move at the same pace simultaneously so long as they are each moving in the same direction toward wellness and healing. 

Hope

Today I write in honor of the life of 13 year old Danny Fitzpatrick of State Island who committed suicide because it is reported that he was bullied at school. It is also reported that Danny left a note in which he wrote, “I gave up...”

I was drawn to the photo of Danny in the public domain. He is wearing a big happy smile. And I wondered as I looked at his beautiful full smile why did he give up.

That question does NOT in any way blame Danny or dare to make any judgment of him or his family. It ill behooves me to do so not knowing the circumstances of this sad story. Rather the question moved me to ask a deeper question, “Why does anyone give up and take his/her life?”

I will not simplify such a complex question that calls for research and studies by many learned persons. I will just touch on my thoughts on hope.

I think it is reasonable to say that no one gives up who has hope. Hope is what keeps us going. Hope that whatever we are going through; that whatever we are suffering; that whatever we are enduring; and that whatever the circumstances and parties involved they will not only change but change for the better. As long as we can find reason to hope we somehow can endure, persevere through the hopelessness, the darkness because we know we are moving towards the light out of the darkness.

And we can’t begin to talk about hope without the small word that follows it—IN. We hope IN someone or something. And it is that hope "IN" that sustains us; keeps us going and moving along and when we must sit and rest for a while, it is that hope IN that brings us to our feet again to travel on.

I like to think of hope as a “buried smile.” We don’t seem able to smile when we are hopeless. Makes sense, right? What would there be to smile about if one is hopeless. Yet it is “the waiting-to-be-unearthed-smile” in which hope subsists.

But hope IN something and someone also needs a “vision” or “imagination.” We who have lived with depression in that dark place especially if it has been the type that has gone on for years or have faced repeated relapses know that it is important to hold on to a vision of a life without suffering from depression. It is a vision that requires “nurturing” because one is beholding what has not materialize yet. It is the ability to construct a reality based on hope that is not yet reality. It is this ability or capacity to “nurture” what doesn’t exist that begins to unearth that buried smile. It is this nurturing of what doesn’t exist in our hearts, minds and souls that becomes the impetus to make the first steps forward.

   

As I said above, I will not simplify a complex phenomenon such as hope. And though, it is not the subject of this post, the role of medication to address and stabilize untreated mental illness play a significant role for many of us. I chose that path for a number of years before making the decision in consultation with my doctor to discontinue.

In another post, I would like to continue this piece on hope because from my perspective just as I can’t think of hope without thinking of hope “in,” likewise “hope in,” vision and imagination and unearthed smiles require human connections and need places/contexts to “be housed.” For those who can’t find reason for hope, perhaps we who see what they can’t see, who behold the vision of their future that they yet can’t behold can become the Keepers of Hope. I became that for a person years ago. Of course this requires a deep intimate and trusted relationship between the persons. If we can become Keepers of Hope, the paradox is, without recognizing it, the hopeless person by giving unforced consent has open up to hope by agreeing to let the Keeper of Hope be the vessel of hope until that person can step-by-step gradually reclaim hope fully. 

The Delight of Meaningful Conversation

One of the saddest misconceptions that is held of persons living with mental illness is that they spend all day and all night gloomy, sad and in darkness. Yes, there are periods of these days, weeks and months when the illness is untreated or there is a relapse. Many family members and friends, meaning well, try not to engage persons with a diagnosed mental illness in meaningful conversation. One of the saddest and erroneous views is that meaningful conversation can't be engaged in or will be burdensome. The truth is that in many cases avoiding deep engaging conversation is not only not helpful but it furthers isolates the person and defines them AS the disease and not as a person living with an illness. It is an insult as well to their human dignity.

It is my belief that most of us want to live full wholesome lives and for those who are not doing so for the most part is not because we choose to indulge in self-loathing or self-pity but simply have not yet figured out the “how” to climb up out of the darkness. Some of been knock down so often that it takes more and more energy to get back up each time. Others are dealing with relapse after relapse. I try to live each day with the reminder that until I have lived another person’s story from beginning to where they are at presently, walked in their shoes and lived in their exact contexts I need to not further burden them with my limited understanding.. I am all for encouraging, affirming and holding the hand of another when they are fighters in this life and are fatigued by what has been thrown at them. No one wants to feel sorry for themselves and no one delights in self-pity. It is a waste of time and energy when that energy may be spent doing things that are fulfilling.

Yesterday, I had a casual conversation that was filled with meaning. Notice I said a "casual" so as to make clear that meaningful does not always have to be intellectual or of a heavy subject. Meaningful is defined as engaging in conversation that stirs the mind, heart and soul and is uplifting and of benefit to all engaging in it. I kept smiling and laughing through the conversation so delightful it was. I wanted to share this today as a reminder to myself and to those living with a mental illness of the significance of stimulating conversation. Perhaps, today you will have a chat with a friend, engage in a brief chat with a stranger who draws your attention for a positive and happy reason; a person walking a dog or you're walking by a house where the owner is gardening or whilst out shopping. Our brains long to be stimulated as our hearts do and I wish that for you today and many days.

Pink is Joy and Joy brings with it a Smile

In my first post I made a promise that I will write on what each day brings me; that I will not force “words or a topics.” Today, I didn't feel those "words" that needed to be shared or spoken. I don't know if it will be as easy or comfortable as it was today, but it was sitting well with me not to blog today though I must confess that silence comes natural to me.  

Then it came gently and surprisingly--a text message accompanied by a photo of a pink blouse with a question, “Good morning, Lilly. Greetings from rainy/overcast Barbados. Does this look familiar?"

It didn't look familiar and I said no. But, of course I knew if the question was put to me, I had some association with the pink blouse, though no recollection. My dear friend, Jan, told me I had given it to her as a gift in 2003 and that she has treasured it and thought of me when she wore it. She told me today she was wearing it and did send a photo of herself beaming happily and dressed in it. I could see from its still bright color and good condition that she had indeed taken good care of it.

The timing of her text unknown to her came on a difficult morning. I had been having a sad and tearful morning and thousands of miles away from me she was taking a selfie and the above photo to send to me. A photo of a gift given 13 years ago entered into my day and broke through my sadness. Some will call it coincidence, others will call it synchronicity. I call it the love of God looking down upon my sad disposition and sending a smile my way.

Some of the attributes that pink represent are joy, hope, the giving and receiving of nurturing, unconditional love and understanding, tenderness, kindness, and empathy. In a very organic way, I felt many of these emotions when I looked upon the 2 text photos sent to me from thousands of miles away of a gift given 13 years ago.

I believe in the power of a smile, most especially in dark moments and I needed one today. Thanks to my friend and a gift of a pink blouse a smile broke through.