Like many of you, I’m not OK. Unlike many of you, I’ve had to deal with bouts of depression and anxiety most of my adult life. I usually do a pretty poor job of reaching out when I’m most vulnerable, but focusing on work normally helps me escape my own inner demons. Currently, I'm not handling downtime very well.
If we haven’t communicated in a while, I would love to take this time to catch up. If you are struggling, I can still be a friendly ear. I’m really just trying to approach this day-by-day.
While I have more than my fair share of social anxiety, I also know that I truly value my connections with people. I may be reaching out to some of you more than I typically would, but I want all of you to feel comfortable to reach out to meet if you need to chat, reconnect or just get out of your own head for a few minutes.
Jane Addams was America’s first social worker. She founded Hull House, which can be compared to a modern day community center. Through Hull House she provided needed services and cultural events to the immigrant working class in her Chicago neighborhood. Through this website, I want to reach out to any stigmatized population, including refugees, religious and ethnic groups, those identifying as LGBTQ, and the physically and mentally disabled.
Saturday, April 4, 2020
Sunday, February 23, 2020
Trump is Coming for their Pencils!
I noticed an article from the New York Times on Friday, January 31st. I was about to teach my US citizenship class to Somali refugees. As I read it, my heart broke. When my translator came in, I gave him my phone and asked him to translate for the class. I was shaking.
The refugees I teach come from E. Africa, which includes Somalia, part of the original Muslim ban, and Tanzania under this new ban. There is no justification for this. It’s discrimination because of race and religion. Saudi Arabians flew those planes into the towers and pentagon. My students are from impoverished African countries, some torn apart by civil war. They have spent a decade, sometimes two, in UN camps. It is common for the camps themselves to come under fire. Before being allowed to come here, my students were pre-cleared in their home countries for settlement in the US. This makes them refugees, entitled to a green card, and not asylum seekers, although both carry a legal status to be in the United States.
My students speak a dialect, Mawa. It is spoken and not written. When they come here and learn English, they may be writing for the first time.
I asked them whether they wanted to talk about the article or learn the lesson. As they saw, I am going through the civics questions of the test faster to get them citizenship faster. Still, many are far away from attaining it.
I assured them when I began teaching that nothing would happen to them because they were green card holders and allowed to be in the United States. Today, February 23, I saw another article about further limiting the benefits they can receive here. Now I can only say I hope it won’t get worse, but they should be prepared.
The refugees I teach come from E. Africa, which includes Somalia, part of the original Muslim ban, and Tanzania under this new ban. There is no justification for this. It’s discrimination because of race and religion. Saudi Arabians flew those planes into the towers and pentagon. My students are from impoverished African countries, some torn apart by civil war. They have spent a decade, sometimes two, in UN camps. It is common for the camps themselves to come under fire. Before being allowed to come here, my students were pre-cleared in their home countries for settlement in the US. This makes them refugees, entitled to a green card, and not asylum seekers, although both carry a legal status to be in the United States.
My students speak a dialect, Mawa. It is spoken and not written. When they come here and learn English, they may be writing for the first time.
I asked them whether they wanted to talk about the article or learn the lesson. As they saw, I am going through the civics questions of the test faster to get them citizenship faster. Still, many are far away from attaining it.
I assured them when I began teaching that nothing would happen to them because they were green card holders and allowed to be in the United States. Today, February 23, I saw another article about further limiting the benefits they can receive here. Now I can only say I hope it won’t get worse, but they should be prepared.
Thursday, February 20, 2020
Let Me Speak - Jacqueline
Loving a drug addict is the hardest thing you will ever do. Watching someone you love, that has fought so hard to beat addiction, throw everything away and sink back into a life that will most likely lead to jail or death, is one of the hardest things some will ever do. Even though all you want is to help them get back to a clean, healthy, and sober life, at some point, you realize you are enabling the addiction, as you have so many times before. You continue enabling them by always listening to the excuses, blaming yourself, and being there to bail them out. You want to grab and shake them and say "You have so much to live for and so many that love you, why do you continue doing this with your life?" But, at some point you realize that wouldn't make a difference no matter how much you love them or how hard you try to help them. So you sit on the sidelines and watch the tragedy unfold, feeling helpless to stop it, feeling like you haven't done enough to help, when in the end, the only truth to it all is, you can only begin to help the addict when the addict decides to help themselves.
Battling a drug addiction is a beast for the person addicted and the ones who love them. It's heartbreaking and earth shattering. So l am asking you to stand with me in prayer for every family member and friend who has lost or is losing their battle with drugs and alcohol and those who continue to conquer it!
Battling a drug addiction is a beast for the person addicted and the ones who love them. It's heartbreaking and earth shattering. So l am asking you to stand with me in prayer for every family member and friend who has lost or is losing their battle with drugs and alcohol and those who continue to conquer it!
Sunday, December 8, 2019
Calling the "War on Christmas" what it is: A White Christian Crusade
I used to ignore my Republican friends' insistence there was a "War on Christmas." They claim the words "Merry Christmas" cover all religious celebrations during this time of year. Amplified by FOX news, one might think this war was of huge significance. To me, it was silly. Who cared if the clerk at Target said Merry Christmas instead of Happy Holidays, which would be more inclusive? Now, given our President's attacks on black and brown people, I can no longer dismiss it.
I don't know how it ever became an issue. When I was a teenager in the late 1970s, my mother would only allow me to purchase cards for my friends which said Season's Greetings. I remember a particular box of cards that showed pine trees in the snow with a sled. Had it shown a decorated Christmas tree, my mother would have disapproved.
Now the words "Merry Christmas" are ideological. They are used to assert white Christian dominance. A person could mean this in a stereotypical way, the way most people picture a white Santa Claus. On the other hand, words of domination have been employed to promote discrimination and outright racism.
Christians asserted their dominance in the world through the crusades. So the next time a Republican friend says, "Merry Christmas" to me, I will answer with "Merry Crusades." It sounds petty. But, then again, so does the idea of Flush-gate.
I don't know how it ever became an issue. When I was a teenager in the late 1970s, my mother would only allow me to purchase cards for my friends which said Season's Greetings. I remember a particular box of cards that showed pine trees in the snow with a sled. Had it shown a decorated Christmas tree, my mother would have disapproved.
Now the words "Merry Christmas" are ideological. They are used to assert white Christian dominance. A person could mean this in a stereotypical way, the way most people picture a white Santa Claus. On the other hand, words of domination have been employed to promote discrimination and outright racism.
Christians asserted their dominance in the world through the crusades. So the next time a Republican friend says, "Merry Christmas" to me, I will answer with "Merry Crusades." It sounds petty. But, then again, so does the idea of Flush-gate.
Tuesday, November 19, 2019
Let Me Speak - Paul
Hi everyone. I am going on a long internal journey & won’t be active on social media indefinitely. Not that I have been very active recently. But I won’t be on at all for awhile. I was going to cancel my account, but didn’t want to alarm anyone. Figured this simple post will suffice for now. Thanks for all the support these last couple of years. Much appreciated. I know i didn’t post or interact as much as I used to. Sorry about that. But I hope some of my posts helped you tho. I did try to be positive. Even about sad topics. I will be back. I just don’t know when. Until then sending out good vibes & a big hug to all those who need it. You are loved. Remember to always be kind to yourself & others. Love is the answer. Namaste.
Monday, November 18, 2019
Publications
Buffalo News:
Physical Health
Trump's Disease
Refugees
Harmful myths trail those seeking a better life here
Mental Health, Caregivers:
Buffalo Healthy Living
Caring for a Child with a Serious Illness
Buffalo Healthy Living
It's Always the Same Story: My search as a person with bipolar illness to find a better ending
Adoption:
Buffalo Healthy Living
Love Doesn't Come in a Color
Adoption STAR Newsletter
Post-adoption Depression
c
It’s Always the Same Story: My search as a person with bipolar illness to find a better ending
Published in Buffalo Healthy Living
It was 1998. I pulled back the top sheet and pink bed cover. As I sat up, I saw a window. I had no idea where I was. Had I attempted suicide? I looked at my wrists. There were no bandages. I rolled over and saw the stash of quarters on my night table. I was in a mental hospital. But why was the cover pink? All the other times the blankets had been white.
The first thing I did was try to get out of there. As I walked down the hall, I saw the nurses’ station. Across from it was an elevator. I pushed the down button. I was wearing my hospital gown. Three nurses appeared. Two held me as the third pressed an injection needle into my thigh. It worked quickly. I remembered the quarters and walked back to get them. When I called my husband, he patiently explained I was receiving ECT treatments which can cause short-term memory loss. I remember counting out loud until succumbing to the anesthetic which makes shocks are painless. My loss of short-term memory had one benefit: I didn’t remember my entire depression.
Upon returning home and unpacking, I saw a blue wraparound skirt with small flowers and a peach suit jacket to match. I walked into the living room where my husband was. “My mother was here,” I declared. I would have only purchased that suit to make my mother happy. I hated blue. The jacket wasn’t tailored enough. He told me my parents had driven from Long Island to Buffalo. I didn’t blame them for wanting to be there, but knew they hadn’t helped. I also realized my mind missed things because of the ECT treatments. Princess Diana had died. I had watched the movie Titanic. I haven’t watched it again, fearing it will spark the memories of that depression. I don’t want to get PTSD on top of bipolar disorder. Some of this is funny. But, mostly it’s the same story.
Now in 2019, I want to advocate against the stigma of mental illness. I remember reading an article about a bipolar woman’s experience. It was eerily similar to mine and made me feel nauseous. Calming down, I realized bipolar illness is a diagnosis like any other. People who have it display the same symptoms. Realizing I was determined to become healthy, and healthier than the woman in the article, I began my quest for a better ending. I am finding it as I begin to tell own my story.
I have been married for 29 years, have two great kids, and two advanced degrees. I realize now that woman’s story is not my story, and, with effective medication and therapy, it doesn’t have to be anyone else’s.
It was 1998. I pulled back the top sheet and pink bed cover. As I sat up, I saw a window. I had no idea where I was. Had I attempted suicide? I looked at my wrists. There were no bandages. I rolled over and saw the stash of quarters on my night table. I was in a mental hospital. But why was the cover pink? All the other times the blankets had been white.
The first thing I did was try to get out of there. As I walked down the hall, I saw the nurses’ station. Across from it was an elevator. I pushed the down button. I was wearing my hospital gown. Three nurses appeared. Two held me as the third pressed an injection needle into my thigh. It worked quickly. I remembered the quarters and walked back to get them. When I called my husband, he patiently explained I was receiving ECT treatments which can cause short-term memory loss. I remember counting out loud until succumbing to the anesthetic which makes shocks are painless. My loss of short-term memory had one benefit: I didn’t remember my entire depression.
Upon returning home and unpacking, I saw a blue wraparound skirt with small flowers and a peach suit jacket to match. I walked into the living room where my husband was. “My mother was here,” I declared. I would have only purchased that suit to make my mother happy. I hated blue. The jacket wasn’t tailored enough. He told me my parents had driven from Long Island to Buffalo. I didn’t blame them for wanting to be there, but knew they hadn’t helped. I also realized my mind missed things because of the ECT treatments. Princess Diana had died. I had watched the movie Titanic. I haven’t watched it again, fearing it will spark the memories of that depression. I don’t want to get PTSD on top of bipolar disorder. Some of this is funny. But, mostly it’s the same story.
Now in 2019, I want to advocate against the stigma of mental illness. I remember reading an article about a bipolar woman’s experience. It was eerily similar to mine and made me feel nauseous. Calming down, I realized bipolar illness is a diagnosis like any other. People who have it display the same symptoms. Realizing I was determined to become healthy, and healthier than the woman in the article, I began my quest for a better ending. I am finding it as I begin to tell own my story.
I have been married for 29 years, have two great kids, and two advanced degrees. I realize now that woman’s story is not my story, and, with effective medication and therapy, it doesn’t have to be anyone else’s.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)