Today is Bell Let's Talk Day.
Now, normally I don't like Bell, I think their customer service is probably the worst in the country.
But I like this initiative.
I really do, even though I'm aware that it's about half Bell advertising.
Why do I like this initiative? Because it seeks to promote dialogue about mental illness.
You know mental illness, it's the elephant in the room that nobody wants to talk about till they're suffocating in elephant paddies.
So the question is: Why?
Why would people who have a mental illness sit and suffer and not get help?
Two reasons that I can see:
1) stigma
2) lack of knowledge
Let's look at stigma:
Its a not uncommon misconception that mental illness is indeed a weakness of character, a cry for attention or straight up laziness.
I call bull shit on that
Mental illness is a complex set of neurochemical, perceptive and emotional responses to stimuli that keep people from achieving the goals they set out to do.
Nobody wants to be depressed. Trust me, it sucks in ways that non depressed people can't begin to imagine.
It's not sadness, sadness you can get over.
It's a chemical imbalance.
The problem with it is that it's a chemical imbalance that no research has yet to come up with a key to. There's no map.
Which leads me to a lack of knowledge:
Mental illness, specifically depression has no identified primary neurochemical pathway despite 40 years of concentrated research.
What the hell does that mean?
It means that although we know depression is a chemical imbalance similar to diabetes say, we don't know which chemicals are imbalance in which numbers enough to have a magic cure. We have no insulin for depression.
Why? Well, that's a question for the researchers but my theory is this: the human mind is too complex for a simple quick fix for everybody.
Every experience we have changes who we are and how we perceive things.
So the treatments have to be tailored to the person.
A combination of possibly: drug therapy, talk therapy, diet, exercise, alternative medicine and or spiritual guidance.
Since each protocol has to be tailored to each person, it can take a looooong time to get the elements just right. And you have to keep at the doctors and therapists to make sure you have the best protocol. The one that works for you.
So the irony of mental illness is that when you have depression and each day is a struggle to be able to get the energy and the attention to work and do your basic activities of life and you're struggling alone due to the jaded opinions of those around you, you have to get yourself together enough to be determined to get your treatment protocol organised.
So what can we do? What can we do to support the people around us with this struggle?
Let's get rid of the silence. Let's talk about it.
Lets be wise enough to understand that the first step is to stand behind people who are suffering so that they have the support to go and get a treatment protocol.
Tuesday, 12 February 2013
Thursday, 17 January 2013
Little boy gone.
Today is the Day, Internet.
January the 17th.
Two years ago today two people got up in the morning to get their kids off to school and one of the boys was too still and too pale.
And he stayed that way.
He doesn't laugh in the living room any more and he doesn't fight when he's getting changed any more.
Now, this doesn't mean that he's gone. I can still smell the smell of his little head from time to time. Just randomly. Like when I'm in the car going to work or taking his brother to church.
Why in the car? Well, hell. I don't know.
So what am I going to say two years later? That my heart is still more than a little bit broken? I'd assume that was pretty obvious.
That I still am not sure why he had to go? Well, I kinda do. So that doesn't count.
That the hole got filled in? It didn't. It probably won't.
What I am going to say is that this little piece of the path has taught me some things. Things I wish to hell I didn't know.
Things I wish nobody ever had to learn. But we do, don't we Internet? Cause nobody here gets out alive. We are all on the clock.
Morbid little thing, ain't I?
Today, yes I am. And I have to reiterate. It's my blog. Want sunshine and flowers? Come back tomorrow.
I have learned that the first year is not the hardest. Aww hells no. You're still in shock. The first Christmas and the first Easter and the first anniversary you're still in shock. It's the second year that'll get ya. Shock has a certain insulating quality to it. That's it's job. But by year two the shock is gone and just the raw nerves remain. The hole.
Year two is also far enough away from the main event that some of people who had the grace to be respectful have lost that grace. There's a sense (and sometimes a direct statement) that it should be in the past and over with by this point. As though grief had an expiry date.
What utter absolute and not to be believed bull shit. Does joy have an expiry date? Or fear? No. Then why should grief?
I have learned that a great heart rending loss doesn't buy you any slack. People who want to be ass holes are gonna do it regardless of the shreds your heart is in. Now I never thought that having a heart ripped in two would cause the real world to go away permanently but I'm stunned that it doesn't at least buy some respect for the people who deserve it from the people who should know better.
Socio-paths are socio-paths after all.
I have learned that each loss links the mind and heart back to the greatest loss. Each loss regardless of the nature of that loss. Associated to the great loss or not your brain doesn't know the difference, it just feels the loss all over again. Nifty trick...eh?
I have learned the taste of panic. It's a little metallic and bitter with the knowledge of what could happen.
I have learned that there is a thing out in the world called complicated grief. Its a condition in which the psyche cannot reconcile the loss it has sustained. Some professionals are adept and handling it. Some not so much. It can cause you to stop in the middle of joy and feel guilty.
I have learned that love makes me fierce and anxiety makes me throw up.
I have learned that support can come from unexpected places.
What do I want today?
Well, I'll tell you Internet exactly what I want.
I want every person who reads this who has a child or loves a child to go and hug that child.
Feel their little heart beat. Feel their warm little hands and feet. Smell their little heads. Kiss their little faces.
And tomorrow when they get out of their little beds sleepy and tousled and looking for juice I want you to stop for a moment in your kitchen and be grateful. Today you don't know what its like to be in an empty kitchen with your heart in shreds and panic in your mouth.
I hope to hell you never do.
January the 17th.
Two years ago today two people got up in the morning to get their kids off to school and one of the boys was too still and too pale.
And he stayed that way.
He doesn't laugh in the living room any more and he doesn't fight when he's getting changed any more.
Now, this doesn't mean that he's gone. I can still smell the smell of his little head from time to time. Just randomly. Like when I'm in the car going to work or taking his brother to church.
Why in the car? Well, hell. I don't know.
So what am I going to say two years later? That my heart is still more than a little bit broken? I'd assume that was pretty obvious.
That I still am not sure why he had to go? Well, I kinda do. So that doesn't count.
That the hole got filled in? It didn't. It probably won't.
What I am going to say is that this little piece of the path has taught me some things. Things I wish to hell I didn't know.
Things I wish nobody ever had to learn. But we do, don't we Internet? Cause nobody here gets out alive. We are all on the clock.
Morbid little thing, ain't I?
Today, yes I am. And I have to reiterate. It's my blog. Want sunshine and flowers? Come back tomorrow.
I have learned that the first year is not the hardest. Aww hells no. You're still in shock. The first Christmas and the first Easter and the first anniversary you're still in shock. It's the second year that'll get ya. Shock has a certain insulating quality to it. That's it's job. But by year two the shock is gone and just the raw nerves remain. The hole.
Year two is also far enough away from the main event that some of people who had the grace to be respectful have lost that grace. There's a sense (and sometimes a direct statement) that it should be in the past and over with by this point. As though grief had an expiry date.
What utter absolute and not to be believed bull shit. Does joy have an expiry date? Or fear? No. Then why should grief?
I have learned that a great heart rending loss doesn't buy you any slack. People who want to be ass holes are gonna do it regardless of the shreds your heart is in. Now I never thought that having a heart ripped in two would cause the real world to go away permanently but I'm stunned that it doesn't at least buy some respect for the people who deserve it from the people who should know better.
Socio-paths are socio-paths after all.
I have learned that each loss links the mind and heart back to the greatest loss. Each loss regardless of the nature of that loss. Associated to the great loss or not your brain doesn't know the difference, it just feels the loss all over again. Nifty trick...eh?
I have learned the taste of panic. It's a little metallic and bitter with the knowledge of what could happen.
I have learned that there is a thing out in the world called complicated grief. Its a condition in which the psyche cannot reconcile the loss it has sustained. Some professionals are adept and handling it. Some not so much. It can cause you to stop in the middle of joy and feel guilty.
I have learned that love makes me fierce and anxiety makes me throw up.
I have learned that support can come from unexpected places.
What do I want today?
Well, I'll tell you Internet exactly what I want.
I want every person who reads this who has a child or loves a child to go and hug that child.
Feel their little heart beat. Feel their warm little hands and feet. Smell their little heads. Kiss their little faces.
And tomorrow when they get out of their little beds sleepy and tousled and looking for juice I want you to stop for a moment in your kitchen and be grateful. Today you don't know what its like to be in an empty kitchen with your heart in shreds and panic in your mouth.
I hope to hell you never do.
Monday, 7 January 2013
When I'm a grown up.....
I'm a thinker.
You've heard this about me before Internet. But it's true.
I've been a thinker all my life....I'm sure my mother can attest to this.
I remember thinking about things a lot when I was a child. I would spend time thinking about and waiting for when I was a "grown up".
I had a lot of interesting ideas about what it would be like when I "got there".
Some of them ain't gonna happen for sure. Like I highly doubt I'm going to be a Dr/ballerina/cowgirl at this point.
But some of them seemed reasonable to me then and I'm a little sad that they don't seem to be happening now.
I was hoping for more parties, quite frankly. I remember being small watching mom and dad get dressed up and pack a bag to go to Christmas parties at dad's company. There was going to be a dinner and a dance and gifts. And people got dressed up.
People don't really get dressed up and have parties anymore. Or dances or block parties or bbq's. And I'm disappointed in this.I had a picture in my head of having fun interesting things to get dressed up glamorously for. House parties, potlucks, card parties, bonfires, sleepouts, birthday parties, cocktail parties. Where did all this stuff go? It's only this year that I've been to an honest to God Christmas party.
I am disappoint, adulthood.
I was thinking decision making would get easier when you were a grown up. When I was a kid, I was well aware that I didn't know half of what the hell was going on and so didn't need to make too many decisions. Besides, the adults seemed very sure in the decisions they were making. Resolute, no wavering. So what did I have to be worried about.
So I figured when you got to be an adult you knew what was what and therefore the right decision to make in any given situation. Like somebody handed you a playbook and it said "to get to any outcome, here's your procedure".
Like a life map.
Imagine my surprise when I got here and lo and behold not only do *I* not have a life map but nobody around me does either.
Well, somebeechsheet. As my dad is known to say. Now what? Just wing it? Me no likey.
And the awkwardness. When does that go away? I accepted being a geeky child. Everybody was a geeky child. I was a ok with being an awkward teen too...I mean, I didn't like it but I figured it would wear off. But here I am at 36 and sometimes its like I never got past 14. Where do I stand? What do I say without looking stupid? How do I make myself clear when communicating? Is my hair standing up all over my head? What the hell is that on my pants? How did I just walk into a door in front of an attractive man?
Frig a loo people.
My comfort in this is that we're all in the same boat. I talk to my friends and relatives and they express the same thoughts as me.
No life map, awkward as hell and home on Saturday night.
So I guess its not the end of the world that adult hood didn't hit me like majick wand. I'll muddle my way through like my ancestors before me.
But what the hell am I gonna do with all these party dresses?
You've heard this about me before Internet. But it's true.
I've been a thinker all my life....I'm sure my mother can attest to this.
I remember thinking about things a lot when I was a child. I would spend time thinking about and waiting for when I was a "grown up".
I had a lot of interesting ideas about what it would be like when I "got there".
Some of them ain't gonna happen for sure. Like I highly doubt I'm going to be a Dr/ballerina/cowgirl at this point.
But some of them seemed reasonable to me then and I'm a little sad that they don't seem to be happening now.
I was hoping for more parties, quite frankly. I remember being small watching mom and dad get dressed up and pack a bag to go to Christmas parties at dad's company. There was going to be a dinner and a dance and gifts. And people got dressed up.
People don't really get dressed up and have parties anymore. Or dances or block parties or bbq's. And I'm disappointed in this.I had a picture in my head of having fun interesting things to get dressed up glamorously for. House parties, potlucks, card parties, bonfires, sleepouts, birthday parties, cocktail parties. Where did all this stuff go? It's only this year that I've been to an honest to God Christmas party.
I am disappoint, adulthood.
I was thinking decision making would get easier when you were a grown up. When I was a kid, I was well aware that I didn't know half of what the hell was going on and so didn't need to make too many decisions. Besides, the adults seemed very sure in the decisions they were making. Resolute, no wavering. So what did I have to be worried about.
So I figured when you got to be an adult you knew what was what and therefore the right decision to make in any given situation. Like somebody handed you a playbook and it said "to get to any outcome, here's your procedure".
Like a life map.
Imagine my surprise when I got here and lo and behold not only do *I* not have a life map but nobody around me does either.
Well, somebeechsheet. As my dad is known to say. Now what? Just wing it? Me no likey.
And the awkwardness. When does that go away? I accepted being a geeky child. Everybody was a geeky child. I was a ok with being an awkward teen too...I mean, I didn't like it but I figured it would wear off. But here I am at 36 and sometimes its like I never got past 14. Where do I stand? What do I say without looking stupid? How do I make myself clear when communicating? Is my hair standing up all over my head? What the hell is that on my pants? How did I just walk into a door in front of an attractive man?
Frig a loo people.
My comfort in this is that we're all in the same boat. I talk to my friends and relatives and they express the same thoughts as me.
No life map, awkward as hell and home on Saturday night.
So I guess its not the end of the world that adult hood didn't hit me like majick wand. I'll muddle my way through like my ancestors before me.
But what the hell am I gonna do with all these party dresses?
Thursday, 22 November 2012
Grinch Sniping
Christmas ain't what it was when I was a kid.
Nothing is what it was when I was a kid.
I used to run around in the woods all summer in my underpants catching frogs and wrestling my siblings. We would be arrested for that at this point. And probably become Youtube sensations.
When I was a kid Christmas was a little magical.
I went to bed one night and woke up to a 20 foot Christmas tree in my living room that Dad and Uncle Howie got drunk and cut down and dragged through the woods. We once hosted 40 people for dinner. I imagine that was less magical for my mother, but I digress.
So when you're a kid Christmas is a magic thing.
But when you get bigger it can kinda suck. There's a lot of pressure and possibly alot of expense and you have to drive in the crap weather. And then there are the hipster Grinch types.
People who are struggling as much as anyone else with the holidays and all they encompass, but feel free to share the misery.
The irony that I am doing the same thing right now is not lost on me. However, this is my blog and you don't have to read it. Don't let the door hit ya on the butt on the way out.
Here are some of my favourite gripes from Grinches and my response to them. One day I'll do a blog post that isn't a list. Today isn't that day y'all.
"Let's keep the Christ in Christmas"
Yes, Christmas is a Christian Holiday. Placed right over top of the Pagan holiday, next to the Jewish holiday.
So for all intents and purposes this is indeed a HOLIDAY SEASON. If you would prefer to wish people a Merry Christmas, please do. Ain't nobody stopping you. Wish them a happy Yule? Your call. Happy Hanukkah is cool too. Don't like any of those? There's always Festivus for the Rest of us. But for the love of all that is holy please don't pull on your victim hat and say other cultures are trying to subvert your holiday. And stay the hell off of my Facebook page while you're doing it.
Christmas is too commericalized
Yes, corporations make some fine cash off of the holiday season. Black Friday is so named because companies sell enough that day to put their books in the black. Were you going to go ahead and make your gifts? Cause that would rock. Got some awesome wood carving skills do ya? Able to paint? Cool.
The reality is that at this time in our culture most of the goods we buy are from corporations. You ain't griping all year long when you wander the aisles of walmart but come Dec 1st everybody is a social responsibility crusader.
Don't misunderstand, I try to shop local as much as I can. But I make a challenge out of it. "what can I buy from a local vendor that would be of use to my recipient?" Sometimes it's not possible. So I suck it up and go to Walmart. And I shut up about it.
We spend too much on toys the kids don't need
Kids don't need most of the toys they have. True Story. So don't buy your kids toys. We used to get one big family gift (remember the first Nintendo? DUCK HUNT) then some stuff individually. There were plenty of books, and art supplies and outside toys like shovels and clothes. And we loved it.
Everybody is miserable during the Holidays. Suicides go up
Ah yuh. People are miserable. There's no sun. It's cold. Its dark. Wouldn't this be a great time of year to have some time set aside for sitting around eating and drinking and giving each other thoughtful little gifts and singing songs and decorating the cave? Might be a great idea. Lets do that.
The holidays to me represent a chance to do several things.
Think about the people you love:
It's a gift giving time. What could the people you love have use for? What would make them smile? Last year I bought every body composters for their kitchens with charcoal filters to keep the smell down. Big hit.
What can you do to make the lives of those you love easier? Ima do all the cookies this year thanks to a cookie exchange.
Celebrate what you have:
I've said it before and I'll say it again. Us Canadians have it pretty frigging decent compared to some places in the world. Maybe we could stand around being happy for what we have instead of bitching bout what we don't .
Act Charitably:
It's the giving season and while we have it good here there is always room for giving. So put some money in a Salvation Army Kettle, buy a toy for the toy drive. Shovel your neighbour's walk. Take cookies to a shut in. The list is endless.
Be with the people you love:
So we're eating and drinking together, maybe while we're doing some festivities we take the time to really talk to those around us. I mean, we're gonna be here all night. Right? Ask how some one is doing...then shut up and listen. Listen like listening...not waiting for your opportunity to talk.
Reflect on the year
This may be more of a New Year's thing...but it's never too early to start reflecting and possibly setting goals.
Wear a stupid hat and sing really loud:
This never gets old and there are too few opportunities to do this in a socially acceptable manner. And you're not too cool to do it. I promise. Trust me.
Nothing is what it was when I was a kid.
I used to run around in the woods all summer in my underpants catching frogs and wrestling my siblings. We would be arrested for that at this point. And probably become Youtube sensations.
When I was a kid Christmas was a little magical.
I went to bed one night and woke up to a 20 foot Christmas tree in my living room that Dad and Uncle Howie got drunk and cut down and dragged through the woods. We once hosted 40 people for dinner. I imagine that was less magical for my mother, but I digress.
So when you're a kid Christmas is a magic thing.
But when you get bigger it can kinda suck. There's a lot of pressure and possibly alot of expense and you have to drive in the crap weather. And then there are the hipster Grinch types.
People who are struggling as much as anyone else with the holidays and all they encompass, but feel free to share the misery.
The irony that I am doing the same thing right now is not lost on me. However, this is my blog and you don't have to read it. Don't let the door hit ya on the butt on the way out.
Here are some of my favourite gripes from Grinches and my response to them. One day I'll do a blog post that isn't a list. Today isn't that day y'all.
"Let's keep the Christ in Christmas"
Yes, Christmas is a Christian Holiday. Placed right over top of the Pagan holiday, next to the Jewish holiday.
So for all intents and purposes this is indeed a HOLIDAY SEASON. If you would prefer to wish people a Merry Christmas, please do. Ain't nobody stopping you. Wish them a happy Yule? Your call. Happy Hanukkah is cool too. Don't like any of those? There's always Festivus for the Rest of us. But for the love of all that is holy please don't pull on your victim hat and say other cultures are trying to subvert your holiday. And stay the hell off of my Facebook page while you're doing it.
Christmas is too commericalized
Yes, corporations make some fine cash off of the holiday season. Black Friday is so named because companies sell enough that day to put their books in the black. Were you going to go ahead and make your gifts? Cause that would rock. Got some awesome wood carving skills do ya? Able to paint? Cool.
The reality is that at this time in our culture most of the goods we buy are from corporations. You ain't griping all year long when you wander the aisles of walmart but come Dec 1st everybody is a social responsibility crusader.
Don't misunderstand, I try to shop local as much as I can. But I make a challenge out of it. "what can I buy from a local vendor that would be of use to my recipient?" Sometimes it's not possible. So I suck it up and go to Walmart. And I shut up about it.
We spend too much on toys the kids don't need
Kids don't need most of the toys they have. True Story. So don't buy your kids toys. We used to get one big family gift (remember the first Nintendo? DUCK HUNT) then some stuff individually. There were plenty of books, and art supplies and outside toys like shovels and clothes. And we loved it.
Everybody is miserable during the Holidays. Suicides go up
Ah yuh. People are miserable. There's no sun. It's cold. Its dark. Wouldn't this be a great time of year to have some time set aside for sitting around eating and drinking and giving each other thoughtful little gifts and singing songs and decorating the cave? Might be a great idea. Lets do that.
The holidays to me represent a chance to do several things.
Think about the people you love:
It's a gift giving time. What could the people you love have use for? What would make them smile? Last year I bought every body composters for their kitchens with charcoal filters to keep the smell down. Big hit.
What can you do to make the lives of those you love easier? Ima do all the cookies this year thanks to a cookie exchange.
Celebrate what you have:
I've said it before and I'll say it again. Us Canadians have it pretty frigging decent compared to some places in the world. Maybe we could stand around being happy for what we have instead of bitching bout what we don't .
Act Charitably:
It's the giving season and while we have it good here there is always room for giving. So put some money in a Salvation Army Kettle, buy a toy for the toy drive. Shovel your neighbour's walk. Take cookies to a shut in. The list is endless.
Be with the people you love:
So we're eating and drinking together, maybe while we're doing some festivities we take the time to really talk to those around us. I mean, we're gonna be here all night. Right? Ask how some one is doing...then shut up and listen. Listen like listening...not waiting for your opportunity to talk.
Reflect on the year
This may be more of a New Year's thing...but it's never too early to start reflecting and possibly setting goals.
Wear a stupid hat and sing really loud:
This never gets old and there are too few opportunities to do this in a socially acceptable manner. And you're not too cool to do it. I promise. Trust me.
Tuesday, 20 November 2012
The Mother blog.
There is an old adage. It's "country wisdom" mainly. It says "do not get between a mother bear and her cubs".
Because a bear is a dangerous creature but a mother bear will eat your liver and like it.
Not because she's a bear, because she's a mother.
I have seen this in action in more than just bears.
I have seen a woman with a high school education (admittedly by chance only, she shoulda been in university) educate herself on genetics to better communicate with doctors about her child. Genetics is not Sesame street boys and girls, it's heavy stuff. But she's a mother so stand back.
She has a blog:
http://cleverlydisguisedascake.blogspot.ca/2012/03/defining-normal_25.html
I have seen my sister, in kidney and liver failure in ICU fighting off anxiolytics and nurses cause somebody took her baby and she wanted him back. Now.
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I have seen my mother threaten the life of the third grade teacher who hit me with a ruler till I had welts. And that woman was scared. If she didn't know Jesus before this incident I'm betting she found him soon after.
I have never seen my sister in law have to go nuts over her boys....but I would back her in a fight against a fully grown man any day of the week. For reals.
Mothers stay up all night and go to work the next day. Mothers lift cars and run into burning buildings and wear macaroni necklaces to board meetings.
There are genetic and neuro chemical reasons for the overwhelming dedication of motherhood. We don't need to go into that. It's boring.
What my point is (and I promise there is one Internet) is that with all this genetic / neuro chemical / mother bear business floating around there are some women who don't do the job. Not even a little.
And I find this confusing. To a dizzying extent.
What is it that would compel a woman to leave her child, unless the child would be safer? What compels women to hurt their children? Sell them? Neglect them? Kill them?
And to be clear, I'm not talking about leaving your kids to go away for the weekend. I'm talking about abandoning them, leaving toddlers to their own devices. Buying drugs instead of food. Ignoring illnesses.
I don't pretend to understand. I spend some time thanking the Creator of All that Is that I don't understand.
I don't have kids. I have nephews. So maybe I'm not qualified to even wonder about mothers who don't look after their babies. But I am still wondering.
I think these women who don't look after their babies must be broken. Deep down broken.
I can't decide whether to feel sorrier for the mothers or the babies.
Maybe I won't decide.
Maybe I'll just hug the babies I know and be grateful for the mothers we have.
Because a bear is a dangerous creature but a mother bear will eat your liver and like it.
Not because she's a bear, because she's a mother.
I have seen this in action in more than just bears.
I have seen a woman with a high school education (admittedly by chance only, she shoulda been in university) educate herself on genetics to better communicate with doctors about her child. Genetics is not Sesame street boys and girls, it's heavy stuff. But she's a mother so stand back.
She has a blog:
http://cleverlydisguisedascake.blogspot.ca/2012/03/defining-normal_25.html
I have seen my sister, in kidney and liver failure in ICU fighting off anxiolytics and nurses cause somebody took her baby and she wanted him back. Now.
.jpg)
I have seen my mother threaten the life of the third grade teacher who hit me with a ruler till I had welts. And that woman was scared. If she didn't know Jesus before this incident I'm betting she found him soon after.
I have never seen my sister in law have to go nuts over her boys....but I would back her in a fight against a fully grown man any day of the week. For reals.
Mothers stay up all night and go to work the next day. Mothers lift cars and run into burning buildings and wear macaroni necklaces to board meetings.
There are genetic and neuro chemical reasons for the overwhelming dedication of motherhood. We don't need to go into that. It's boring.
What my point is (and I promise there is one Internet) is that with all this genetic / neuro chemical / mother bear business floating around there are some women who don't do the job. Not even a little.
And I find this confusing. To a dizzying extent.
What is it that would compel a woman to leave her child, unless the child would be safer? What compels women to hurt their children? Sell them? Neglect them? Kill them?
And to be clear, I'm not talking about leaving your kids to go away for the weekend. I'm talking about abandoning them, leaving toddlers to their own devices. Buying drugs instead of food. Ignoring illnesses.
I don't pretend to understand. I spend some time thanking the Creator of All that Is that I don't understand.
I don't have kids. I have nephews. So maybe I'm not qualified to even wonder about mothers who don't look after their babies. But I am still wondering.
I think these women who don't look after their babies must be broken. Deep down broken.
I can't decide whether to feel sorrier for the mothers or the babies.
Maybe I won't decide.
Maybe I'll just hug the babies I know and be grateful for the mothers we have.
Thursday, 8 November 2012
Wanty want want. Yes indeedy.
It occurred to me the other day that I have been doing mostly posts that are kinda thinky. Like serious stuff. Heavy Emotional and thoughtful things are good, but I've only got one blog post that's kinda fun. Insufficient fun sucks.
So in this vein, Ima do a blog post about totally trivial stuff that I want. Just random crap that I would love to own and or do that may never happen. But hey. It's nice to dream.
Shoes n stuff.
I like shoes. I really really do. I like pretty shoes and pretty boots and fancy shoes and good runners. Also apparently I like expensive shoes. Who knew?
I want these:
These are a $2999.00 pair of Christian Louboutain boots. I love em.
And these:
So in this vein, Ima do a blog post about totally trivial stuff that I want. Just random crap that I would love to own and or do that may never happen. But hey. It's nice to dream.
Shoes n stuff.
I like shoes. I really really do. I like pretty shoes and pretty boots and fancy shoes and good runners. Also apparently I like expensive shoes. Who knew?
I want these:
These are a $2999.00 pair of Christian Louboutain boots. I love em.
And these:
These are $995 from Christian Louboutain as well, le Sigh.
But it's not all shoes y'all I also really really really want this:
For the bargain price of $16k. No kidding.
Ok, back to reality a little bit...cause really. If I spent $16K on a purse, I'd have to kick my own butt!
I also want to go here:
With these people:
And not just because they have this:
They've been gone since June and it's now November and nobody has spoken to me in Afrikaans in all that time. And I miss the cats. Yeah, that's right...the cats.
Also, I'm pretty sure it's time for this chick to have some sort of vacation.
You know that thing where you don't go to work for a while, But instead you go and do stuff that's fun. I've heard it's allll the rage. And since it's all the rage, and these guys are doing it, I should do "vacation" with people who know how.
And these guys know how:
http://timeandtidetravels.blogspot.ca/
Mostly if I want a vacation I have to wait till somebody is available to go with me. Since going places alone on vacation kinda would suck and people are very busy. I don't go much.
But if for some reason the boat thing doesn't work...I might scoot down here:
To visit some cousins and my Aunti and Uncle and go here:
And here:
and no doubt be the butt of many a Canadian joke. S'ok. I'm used to it!
In the meantime though....I'm going to settle for this:
and then after work, this:
Tuesday, 6 November 2012
No more "Naughty Nurses", For the love of GOD!
I've got a bit of a bee in my bonnet about this. No kidding.
The other day a local strip club burned down. Sorta random, but ok. On my twitter feed a man made the joke that unemployment rates for local single mothers and nursing students had gone up in relation to this event.
Seriously? Seriously.
Another man joined in and hardy hars were had all around.
I, of course questioned the first man: "What are you saying?"
To which I got no reply other than another independent tweet from the first man that he was cheeky and incorrigible.
Um, ok.
I'm a little bothered becauseI know both of these men. I have had conversations with them, they know me. They know I'm a Nurse. They still think this nonsense is funny.
So I was kinda chapped about the whole thing.
But I'm a thinker. I do alot of thinking. Sometimes when I ought to be sleeping.
What exactly is my problem here?
What do I care? It's two dudes on twitter making a lame joke about a strip club.
So. What?
Ok, first of all here's what my problem is NOT. Its not about sexuality. It's part of the human experience and quite frankly too often over looked in North American culture. It's seen as dirty and to be hushed up. As a wise friend of mine once stated "We're MADE for it!! We should be doing it ALLL the time". No disagreement on that point. People would be healthier and happier if they had more sex. Ask the Dutch People. So my problem is not with the strippers.
My problem is with Nursing stereotypes in general. Which is what the joke about strippers looked like to me.
Stereotypes, turn people into soundbites. They leave no room for thoughtful consideration and if taken to the extreme keep us from experiencing the world at large. So sayeth me.
Nursing stereotypes are particularly viscous, I find. Let's look at the biggest ones..
Angels of Mercy
Considering Nurses as tireless, perfect angels of mercy does not leave room for our humanity. Nursing is hard, emotionally draining work. This stereotype does not encourage Nurses to leave room in their practice for self care. This practise of self care is lacking in many nurse's practises I find. I, personally have trouble with this. I also wonder if it doesn't contribute to the issues of burnout and nurse error.
Servants of the DOCTOR
Now, this may have been true in the 1800's but the times they are a changing. We are currently a group of highly trained highly skilled professionals. Unfortunately not everybody gets the memo. Nurses today not only work in concert with doctors we many times will direct the care. We ARE the boots on the ground. We are the eyes and ears and sometimes the brains of the operation. We trouble shoot, observe, consider options, assess treatments, suggest new treatments, reassess the outcomes, report and collaborate. The idea that we have no clinical judgement is erroneous and ignorant. It's what we do! Doctors don't observe you post op for signs you're in trouble. Nurses do. Doctors don't implement your plan of care. Nurses do. Doctors don't design your wound healing protocol. Nurses do. No nurse I know has the time to follow a Doc around being his or her servant.
Please don't misunderstand. Doctors are fantastic people. Dedicated and professional. But so are we.
Nurse Ratched
Man oh man I love this one. I've been called this myself a time or two. Mostly when I was disagreeing with someone or insisting on a level of action that I thought was right. Not just that something be done to correct a situation but that EVERYTHING be done. And done now.
Here's the problem with this one. Disagreeing with situations that I don't understand or deem inappropriate is my job. Its a mandate handed to me by the nice people who give me my license. The same people who will take that license away if a patient comes to harm under my watch in a situation that they deem I should have had some control over.
How this attitude of responsibility gets translated into the oppressive, abusive, miserable control freak that is portrayed in the movie "one flew over the cuckoos nest" is beyond me.
Which Brings us to the point
The Naughty Nymphomaniac Nurse:
This one, as far as I can see is a combination of the sweet faced angel of mercy and the empty headed doctor's handmaiden. It's about the idea that nurses are caretakers and should therefore be care taking of every aspect of a patient's care. Including the sexual aspect. It's about the idea that if a woman is touching a person's body there must be sex involved and she must want that. I've also read that it's about the idea that men when in ill health feel insecure and must use this stereotype to gain at least the illusion of control over the women in charge of his care. Now I don't know about that part. I'll leave it up to the men to talk about. I feel it certainly has a component of misogyny. There could be an argument made that this is a continuation of the Madonna / whore ideology.
Just a quick note here. Nurses who sleep with their patients lose their jobs and licenses.
What I'll tell you is that this lovely little stereotype can cause your average nurse no end of trouble. I've heard some nursing students say that they might not introduce themselves as nurses when meeting new people for fear of this idea.
I've personally had to deflect the wandering hands of more than one patient who subscribed to the idea of the nurse as a whore. I've had men tell me they don't date nurses because of this. I've had men want to date me assuming I'd sleep with them right away because I'm a nurse.
Here's a question for consideration: are there nurses out there who will quash their inherent sexuality to avoid the label of the naughty nurse? Are we Damned if we do, damned if we don't?
I feel these stereotypes undermine us as professionals. We can't be taken seriously if all we are is either empty headed or sexual vessels or raging psychotics.
Which is a damned shame considering how much of the care of patients we are responsible for and therefore have insight into. Insight that is used to craft policies that direct care and legislation.
So consider this, Internet. The next time you want to make a naughty nurse joke: out there someplace is a woman or man who had to spend years in school studying their brains out who is working overtime in a place that may look down on them for trying to take time off while fighting tooth and nail for the rights of patients and to be taken seriously as a professional who may have to fight off patients who think they're there to "service" people while your smart ass makes a crack on twitter.
The other day a local strip club burned down. Sorta random, but ok. On my twitter feed a man made the joke that unemployment rates for local single mothers and nursing students had gone up in relation to this event.
Seriously? Seriously.
Another man joined in and hardy hars were had all around.
I, of course questioned the first man: "What are you saying?"
To which I got no reply other than another independent tweet from the first man that he was cheeky and incorrigible.
Um, ok.
I'm a little bothered becauseI know both of these men. I have had conversations with them, they know me. They know I'm a Nurse. They still think this nonsense is funny.
So I was kinda chapped about the whole thing.
But I'm a thinker. I do alot of thinking. Sometimes when I ought to be sleeping.
What exactly is my problem here?
What do I care? It's two dudes on twitter making a lame joke about a strip club.
So. What?
Ok, first of all here's what my problem is NOT. Its not about sexuality. It's part of the human experience and quite frankly too often over looked in North American culture. It's seen as dirty and to be hushed up. As a wise friend of mine once stated "We're MADE for it!! We should be doing it ALLL the time". No disagreement on that point. People would be healthier and happier if they had more sex. Ask the Dutch People. So my problem is not with the strippers.
My problem is with Nursing stereotypes in general. Which is what the joke about strippers looked like to me.
Stereotypes, turn people into soundbites. They leave no room for thoughtful consideration and if taken to the extreme keep us from experiencing the world at large. So sayeth me.
Nursing stereotypes are particularly viscous, I find. Let's look at the biggest ones..
Angels of Mercy
Considering Nurses as tireless, perfect angels of mercy does not leave room for our humanity. Nursing is hard, emotionally draining work. This stereotype does not encourage Nurses to leave room in their practice for self care. This practise of self care is lacking in many nurse's practises I find. I, personally have trouble with this. I also wonder if it doesn't contribute to the issues of burnout and nurse error.
Servants of the DOCTOR
Now, this may have been true in the 1800's but the times they are a changing. We are currently a group of highly trained highly skilled professionals. Unfortunately not everybody gets the memo. Nurses today not only work in concert with doctors we many times will direct the care. We ARE the boots on the ground. We are the eyes and ears and sometimes the brains of the operation. We trouble shoot, observe, consider options, assess treatments, suggest new treatments, reassess the outcomes, report and collaborate. The idea that we have no clinical judgement is erroneous and ignorant. It's what we do! Doctors don't observe you post op for signs you're in trouble. Nurses do. Doctors don't implement your plan of care. Nurses do. Doctors don't design your wound healing protocol. Nurses do. No nurse I know has the time to follow a Doc around being his or her servant.
Please don't misunderstand. Doctors are fantastic people. Dedicated and professional. But so are we.
Nurse Ratched
Man oh man I love this one. I've been called this myself a time or two. Mostly when I was disagreeing with someone or insisting on a level of action that I thought was right. Not just that something be done to correct a situation but that EVERYTHING be done. And done now.
Here's the problem with this one. Disagreeing with situations that I don't understand or deem inappropriate is my job. Its a mandate handed to me by the nice people who give me my license. The same people who will take that license away if a patient comes to harm under my watch in a situation that they deem I should have had some control over.
How this attitude of responsibility gets translated into the oppressive, abusive, miserable control freak that is portrayed in the movie "one flew over the cuckoos nest" is beyond me.
Which Brings us to the point
The Naughty Nymphomaniac Nurse:
This one, as far as I can see is a combination of the sweet faced angel of mercy and the empty headed doctor's handmaiden. It's about the idea that nurses are caretakers and should therefore be care taking of every aspect of a patient's care. Including the sexual aspect. It's about the idea that if a woman is touching a person's body there must be sex involved and she must want that. I've also read that it's about the idea that men when in ill health feel insecure and must use this stereotype to gain at least the illusion of control over the women in charge of his care. Now I don't know about that part. I'll leave it up to the men to talk about. I feel it certainly has a component of misogyny. There could be an argument made that this is a continuation of the Madonna / whore ideology.
Just a quick note here. Nurses who sleep with their patients lose their jobs and licenses.
What I'll tell you is that this lovely little stereotype can cause your average nurse no end of trouble. I've heard some nursing students say that they might not introduce themselves as nurses when meeting new people for fear of this idea.
I've personally had to deflect the wandering hands of more than one patient who subscribed to the idea of the nurse as a whore. I've had men tell me they don't date nurses because of this. I've had men want to date me assuming I'd sleep with them right away because I'm a nurse.
Here's a question for consideration: are there nurses out there who will quash their inherent sexuality to avoid the label of the naughty nurse? Are we Damned if we do, damned if we don't?
I feel these stereotypes undermine us as professionals. We can't be taken seriously if all we are is either empty headed or sexual vessels or raging psychotics.
Which is a damned shame considering how much of the care of patients we are responsible for and therefore have insight into. Insight that is used to craft policies that direct care and legislation.
So consider this, Internet. The next time you want to make a naughty nurse joke: out there someplace is a woman or man who had to spend years in school studying their brains out who is working overtime in a place that may look down on them for trying to take time off while fighting tooth and nail for the rights of patients and to be taken seriously as a professional who may have to fight off patients who think they're there to "service" people while your smart ass makes a crack on twitter.
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