A Once In A Life Time Day

Okay.  So this day won't come again for another four years.  Or so they say.  Truth is, it won't ever come again.
Let's try really hard to treasure every moment.

Calling In Crazy

Calling In Crazy: Why We Must Normalize Mental Illness

published in the Huffington Post

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/mary-walker-baron/mental-illness-stigma_b_1301514.html


It's tough to admit that we are all from time to time a little mentally ill. We don't want to acknowledge our intermittent mental illness because we would then become part of a stigmatized population -- a population that we ourselves have perhaps at times helped to stigmatize.
Throughout our lives, we travel a health-to-illness continuum, always seeking a return to wellbeing. While we acknowledge the physical realities of this continuum, it's harder to accept the emotional, cognitive and behavioral aspects.
If I comment to a friend that I'm sneezing, my joints ache, my temperature is slightly elevated, my throat hurts and I feel nauseous, my friend will very likely reply with something like, "Sounds like you're coming down with a cold or the flu." My friend might also suggest a remedy. "Don't forget to drink plenty of fluids and get a lot of rest. Eat some chicken soup. That always helps me." The conclusion might be that I'm a little physically ill. The assumption is that with proper, time-tested care, I will recover. Should my symptoms get worse, it is understood and expected that I will seek professional care, which might include a visit to my doctor, medications and even hospitalization.
It's not so easy for me to say to a friend that I'm feeling kind of hopeless, I'm not sleeping well, nothing seems to interest me and I've lost my appetite. However, wouldn't it be great if I could comfortably say those things? And wouldn't it be even greater if my friend could reply with something like, "Sounds like you're coming down with a touch of depression." And wouldn't it be greater still if my friend reminded me of possible remedies such as, "Don't forget to utilize your positive coping skills like talking to friends, exercising and restructuring negative thoughts. Remember that these episodes pass. Stay hopeful. I'm here for you." The conclusion might be that I'm a little mentally ill. The assumption might be that with proper, time-tested care, I will recover. But should my symptoms worsen, I would know to seek professional care, which might include a visit to my doctor, medications and even hospitalization. I would know that because with the normalization of mental illness, there would be no more stigma attached to my depression than is currently attached to my cold or touch of the flu.
According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), one in four (close to 58 million) American adults experiences symptoms of a mental illness at some time during the year. I suspect that the one in four is fluid and interchangeable. Today I am the one in four. Tomorrow you might be the one.
These symptoms of mental illness that you and I experience in the one in four exchange are generally about as inconvenient as experiencing the symptoms of a cold or the flu. They pass, often without much effort or attention from us. Nevertheless, though, in the best of all possible worlds we would acknowledge that for the few hours or days of discomfort, we were suffering from a mild mental illness.
Of course, on that continuum of health-to-illness and back again to wellbeing, NAMI goes on to tell us that one in 17 American adults experiences and lives with symptoms of severe mental illness such as schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or major depression. Just as we acknowledge the impact of chronic physical conditions, a chronic mental illness can profoundly impair functioning and, yes, kill us. Suicide, according to NAMI, is the 11th-leading cause of death in this country. And all of these symptoms and behaviors exist in stigma.
Living with stigma not only damages. It silences. Silence in turn informs greater stigma. The intention of normalizing mental illness is not to minimize or trivialize its impact, but instead to openly acknowledge its existence.
As a first step in this normalization process, let's acknowledge that we are all, at one time or another, number one in the NAMI one in four who throughout the year experience symptoms of mental illness. Having accomplished that, it may be easier for us to look at the one in 17 among us suffering from severe mental illness not as separate, but as companions traveling with us on the continuum of wellbeing.
Since there's no such thing as a stigmatized majority, we could begin eliminating the stigma of mental illness simply by talking about our own symptoms however minor and fleeting they may be.
Yesterday I was a little mentally ill. Today I'm okay. Let's talk.

Tracking the Rainbow

I finished my last visit of the working day. Five thirty p.m. Quittin' time. I was right down the street from a Von's market, and I remembered that we needed a couple of things, so I headed that way. As I waited in the left turn lane for the light to change, I looked at the sky ahead of me and saw a wonderful rainbow. A few seconds later, another rainbow formed a little to the outside of the first. A double rainbow! I looked around at the other drivers and at the pedestrians on the street. I expected crowds to gather and point at the sky. But it appeared that I was the only one who noticed.

I pulled into the Von's parking lot and got out of the car for a better look. I was still facing the rainbow, which had by now had intensified in color and size. People were coming out of the store with their groceries, getting in their cars and driving away. A couple of Von's employees on break sat on a bench in front of the store drinking sodas. No one paid any attention. I bid the rainbow goodbye and walked toward the entrance as a young man came out of the store and looked straight at the sky. "Oh, wow!" he said, to everyone, and no one in particular, "Beautiful!". I smiled at my kindred spirit, and went in to do my shopping.

These Are The Rules

And make no mistake about it.  We mean business.

It Has To Be For Forever

Adopting a dog (or a cat) is serious business.  If it's a casual thing for you, please don't to it.  Someone else will come along who knows that pets are forever.  It's a long haul kind of thing.

Yet Another Shopping Adventure

Today I was in a Whole Foods store.  The store was pretty crowded as is generally the case in any Whole Foods grocery store.  It's pretty easy to become mesmerized by the astonishing array of produce in one of those stores and that's the way it was for me this morning.  I hadn't selected anything.  I had no produce receptacle in hand (no plastic, hemp, canvas, or paper bag).  I noticed a woman walking quickly and deliberately to me.  When she got a few feet away from me she held her hand out to me.  It contained  six or seven twist ties.
"These are the only ones left in the store," she said to me in a tone conveying urgent determination.
I stared at her unable to make a quick switch from produce to person.
"I want you to have them," she continued even more earnest and urgent than before.
She held the twist ties closer to me.
"Excuse me?" was all I could manage.
"I want you to have these.  You seem like the most deserving person here."
I should probably add right here that such experiences are not foreign to me so please don't think I was frightened or even confused or alarmed.  Those moments were more like an of course kind of thing, just so you know.
"Oh," I eventually replied.  "Tell you what.  I'll take one.  You save the rest for yourself and others who might need them."
She gave me one twist tie saying, "I knew I could count on you."
She then walked out of the store with the remaining twist ties in her hand.
I continued my shopping.
I got everything on my list except Ezekiel bread.  The store was out of that.  Oh, yeah, and I got a twist tie.
Life is full of unexpected gifts.

A Confusing Weather Front

The check out line at the department store was long and with only one cashier forward movement was at a glacial pace.  Plenty of time to listen in on the conversations of the others waiting in line.
Here was the best from the two women in front of me:
"It's pretty hot in here."
"I know."
"I think I'm beginning to sweat."
"I'm perplexed, too."
I have to admit that after listening in on that exchange I was feeling confused myself.