Wear Pink!

Today is Anti-Bullying Day!  I hope you are wearing pink to show your support of the movement to end bullying.  For more information visit www.pinkshirtday.ca

 

beautiful boy

I just finished reading beautiful boy by David Sheff www.davidsheff.com .  It is the story of ‘a father’s journey through his son’s addiction’.  Such a powerful read.  A well-written chronicle of a father’s story.  Mr. Sheff describes his love for his son and how amazing his son, Nic, is. He chronicles Nic’s upbringing and its ups and downs.  As a parent it is very relatable.  The description of Nic’s childhood is followed by Nic’s descent into drug use and his father’s chronicle of how the drugs steal Nic away.  What struck me is how I could really feel the before and after, the changes in Nic with his drug use, all the while still aware of him being a lovable person underneath it all.  It is too easy to see ‘drug addicts’ as only that and not to remember ‘they’ are people too.  People with addictions do some terrible, painful things and it is sometimes necessary to emotionally separate what they do from who they are.  The addicts themselves don’t make it easy because so much of who they are is masked by the drug that takes them over. 

The book is full of literary, music and movie references which appeal to my interests and help fill out the picture of Nic and his Dad and their connection through the Arts.

I found my stomach in knots on multiple occasions throughout the book; for my greatest fear is that one of my children could become an addict or alcoholic.  I know that seems like a ridiculous waste of time to worry about something like that.  However, my family is littered with alcoholics and people with mental health issues and I fear it for my children.  I have spent most of my life learning about addiction and mental health and I feel I dodged a bullet myself.  I try to educate my children about substances and their potential influence over people.  I have told them they are at a higher risk because of our family issues.  I hope that is enough. 

I wonder if my worries are a waste of time.  Maybe it will be something else that derails my children’s lives.  Maybe there won’t be any derailment and I’ll have wasted my time worrying.  Let’s hope so. 

I have just picked up Nic’s book, Tweak, reflecting the same period of time but from Nic's perspective.  I will let you know how it goes. 

David Sheff has a new book coming out April 2, 2013 entitled, Clean: overcoming addiction and ending America’s greatest tragedy.

More than $4.8M raised for mental health during Bell Let's Talk Day | CTV News

More than $4.8M raised for mental health during Bell Let's Talk Day | CTV News

To This Day Project - Shane Koyczan

Happy Valentine's Day!  Show someone you love them today...

Substances

Today is Ash Wednesday in the Christian church: the first day of the season of Lent.  Traditionally Lent is a season of prayer, penitence and fasting.  Preparation for the season begins with Shrove Tuesday or Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday), when people usually have pancakes for dinner.  This was originally to use up all the butter and fattening foods in the pantry before the fasting of Lent. 

Lent is a season of preparation for Easter, the holiest holiday in the church calendar.  I think of it as a clearing out or clearing away of all the ‘extras’ that get in the way of seeing your path.  I think of it as a time of returning to simplicity.  Ideally, that is.  Amidst soccer practices and play rehearsals and meetings and and and it can be difficult to find the time to just let life rise and fall of its own accord.  At its best, however, I think of this season as a time of resetting my priorities.  Refocusing. 

As a form of discipline or fasting through Lent, people often give up something, often chocolate in these parts.  Other people give up other things.  One priest says he gives up coffee, alcohol, meat and chocolate during Lent.  I’ve considered doing the same but I think my family would have to clear out for at least a week so I didn’t do or say something I would regret later. 

My response to giving up all those things made me think about ‘substances’ and our need or want of them.  Tied up with substances would be our habits.  We all have reasons we choose to eat or drink or ingest things outside of purely sustaining ourselves.  They make us feel good or we feel we deserve them or they take the hurt away.  When we strip away the things we do to comfort ourselves we are left with our sometimes very raw emotions.  This can be a scary prospect. 

Each year my husband gives up coffee.  Last year and this one I have joined him.  This first morning was not pretty for me.  I do love my coffee.  I love the smell.  I love the taste.  More importantly, however, it is a comfort.  I can’t describe why.  Maybe it’s stopping to drink it.  Maybe it’s the breakfast or cookie I eat with it.  Maybe it’s having something to hold in my hand.  And I know other things don’t have the same effect as coffee for me.  I don’t enjoy tea as much as I enjoy coffee, although it comes in lots of flavours and doesn’t leave your breath smelling awful. 

I’m sure I can do it.  I know I’ll feel like I’ve accomplished something if I do.  The first few days are the hardest – building in new routines, getting over the loss of caffeine (no amount of tea seems to make up the difference).  I think about people who have to make similar changes on a permanent basis – whether for illness or addiction – and how challenging that would be. 

In some sense it comes down to control.  Am I in control or is the substance?  I know I’m forced to reckon with this question each Lenten season when I choose to change my behaviour, if only for a little while.  If I’m honest with myself, the fact that I have to think twice about giving up something like coffee means it has some sort of hold over me.  It makes me consider what other substances or activities I participate in that take charge of me.  Giving up something that serves a purpose to me, whether it is giving me comfort or altering my tired first-thing-in-the morning state, makes me think about all the emotions that rise to the surface when the substance isn’t there.  I have to deal with feeling tired on days where I have back to back meetings.  I am inconvenienced when everyone is ‘going for coffee’ because I cannot partake.  I have to face the headaches and the grumpiness that will be a part of the first few days of changing my routine.  The perspective I gain from the small show of discipline is very valuable as well as my gratitude that I can make the choice to abstain rather than being forced to by other circumstances. 

Vision Boards with Chrysalis Society

In the last two weeks I have spent two afternoons facilitating Vision Board workshops with the women residents of Chrysalis Society (www.chrysalissociety.com).  These women are working to overcome some significant obstacles to live healthier lives, and take better care of themselves.  They are in recovery from addiction.  What an amazing experience for me!  I truly find I learn so much from the people I work with.  I also really admire the courage it takes to admit needing help and working toward a better future. 

We began the workshops with introductions and a brief description of how to prepare a vision board.  I suggested trying to approach the process without thinking too much and just choosing images that appealed and not thinking about why.  To get us out of our heads and focusing from our hearts we did a short meditation to calm and centre ourselves.  Once that was done, and participants had chosen a background for their board (I had a variety of colours available), we handed around magazines and started ripping! 

Some examples of the finished vision boards are displayed on my facebook page https://www.facebook.com/RomaPalmerCounsellor (see the sidebar for the link).  Themes of relationships and family were prevalent in a number of the completed projects.  As well, travel, spirituality, and developing passions were apparent in several of the boards. 

Watching the women work on finding just the right picture was exciting.  I found it encouraging seeing the women enjoy the task and engage with one another about possibilities for their futures. 

I also found it interesting seeing how people completed their boards and how different the final pieces were from each other.  Some people’s boards were jammed with photos.  Others contained more inspirational words than pictures.  Some people struggled to find pictures to match the image they had in their head (maybe thinking too much about achieving a particular result?).  Other completed boards had few pictures or images but the ones that were chosen were very significant to them.  How people completed their vision boards really seemed to say something about their personalities as well as their passions.

I thoroughly enjoyed bringing this event to the women at Chrysalis Society.  I found the experience to be inspirational for me and, judging by the responses I had, it appeared to be so for them as well.  

Aunty Mary

Yesterday was the anniversary of my Great Aunt Mary’s death.  She died 14 years ago yesterday.  And she was, in all senses, a Great Aunt.  She was 88 years old when she died.  Double infinity.  Double infinity describes the love I still feel for her after all these years. 

Until she was struck with Alzheimer’s in the last few years of her life, Aunty Mary, or Mame, was always joyful and full of good spirits.  I always knew she loved me, no matter what.  And I put that to the test on numerous occasions.  There was the time that I was making prank phone calls with a friend who was visiting.  By mistake, we called the operator and said something nasty.  Well, the operator wouldn’t hang up!  I tried repeatedly to hang up the phone hoping she would give up but she insisted on speaking with the adult who was in the house.  I had to fetch Aunty Mary to intervene on my behalf.  She knew I was mortified. I was grateful that Mame did not feel it was necessary to drive it home with a big speech or disciplinary action.  I begged her not to tell my mother and if I recall correctly, I do believe she kept my confidence.  Needless to say I did not try that trick again!

Another time I was practicing for a role I had been asked to perform in church the coming Sunday.  I was going to be lighting a candle and I had been asked to practice at home.  Now, I’m sure the intention was that I would practice with an adult present.  I had seen fit to do that initially; but after some practice I thought I could handle it on my own.  So, with my trusting younger brother in tow, I practiced lighting candles.  Then I thought it would be interesting to try lighting paper and see what happened.  I tried it a couple of times and was able to blow it out before the flames grew too large.  On the third try, however, I waited longer and couldn’t blow it out.  Luckily we were in the kitchen and I doused the piece of paper with some water.  I tossed the whole mess in the garbage and thought no one would be the wiser.  Unfortunately the smell and the charred paper caught Aunty Mary’s attention and this time she did think my parents needed to be informed.  I could understand her informing on me and my brother and we made up a ‘clever’ story so neither one of us got in as much trouble as we might have if we (I) had gone it alone.  My baby bro is awesome!

There is one other time I recall when I was not proud of my behaviour toward Aunty Mary.  I was really mad at her.  Really, really mad at her.  And I wrote some swear words on a piece of paper and handed the paper to her and ran away.  I had written F*** OFF!  I don’t remember how she handled it exactly but I have no doubt it was with the grace that followed her wherever she went. 

Mary Smith Payne was from Glasgow, Scotland, and she had something of the fairy about her.  She never quite seemed like she had both feet on the ground.  She saw the world and the people in it in a slightly different light.  As a child, I found this a wonderful novelty compared to most of the grown ups I knew.  A habit of hers which endeared her to me was she would regularly have treats in her purse that she shared with my brother and me.  She also had an assortment of fantastic clothes at her apartment that were amazing for playing dress up.  After late nights of babysitting us she would often sleep over at our house and, as a young girl, I would go up in the morning to cuddle with her.  She would inevitably get out of bed at some point (knowing what was to come) and I would slide into her ‘warm spot’.  She would make a tremendous fuss about me stealing her spot in the bed and I would giggle myself silly. 

When she got sick as she aged, it broke my heart.  Her personality changed.  She became suspicious and aggressive.  She would swear.  It was difficult to watch her become someone so foreign to whom she had been during the rest of her life.  I would visit her and I think she knew who I was most of the time, even if she couldn’t articulate it.  When she didn’t know who I was, she would have a look on her face as though she thought she should know who I was.  Our visits weren’t particularly interesting.  I always felt awkward because I didn’t know what to do or say.  But I’m glad I went to visit.  She gave so much to us, it was the least I could do for her. 

She could still astound me, however.  I remember picking her up from the locked ward of the residence where she lived to take her to my cousin’s wedding.  I was about three months pregnant with my first child.  I felt physically horrible but I don’t think I was showing yet.  We certainly hadn’t told anyone I was expecting.  Darned if we didn’t get into my car and she asked me when the baby was due!  I couldn’t believe it!  Here was this woman whom we all thought was completely gone and she was still so aware of some things.  I was grateful she knew I was having a baby.  She loved babies.  She died three months before my daughter was born. 

I’m sure my parents or other grown ups would have other opinions about Aunty Mary.  And they would be equally valid.  But my opinions are mine based on my experience.  She gave me such great memories from my childhood, and my memory is not that great, so the fact I can remember so much about her influence on my life is important to me.  As I have alluded to, she did the lion’s share of our babysitting.  We were very fortunate in that regard.  I’m sure as I got older I would have preferred someone younger and ‘more fun’ but she was such a presence in our lives and we were blessed to have her.  I would wish for someone like Mame in every child’s life.  Someone who really did show unconditional love in a way that made so much sense to a child.