Tag: trauma

The Position to Help

Our middle son is finishing up his last year of medical school. Anyone in medical school has to go through rotations of all of the different specialties in medicine. So even if you know for sure, that you want to become a country family doctor or a psychiatrist, you still have to go through surgical rotations and emergency room rotations and rotations in the Intensive Care Unit and in Burn Units. My son’s medical school is part of a hospital system in a major city in the United States. The things that he has witnessed in just a few short years, are overwhelming to just hear about them. (I could never be in the medical fields. I don’t have the temperament for it, but I am so utterly grateful for, and respectful of those of you who do. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.) As a mother, I am constantly taking my son’s “temperature” to ensure myself that he isn’t traumatized and distressed, by all that he has seen and experienced. One time my son said something to me, really profound and comforting. He said, “Mom, if I had been a helpless witness to the accident or to the situation that brought the patient to us, that would be far more traumatizing. It is a great feeling to be in the position to help.”

That is what I mean by my tagline. If we can alchemize our pains into healing for ourselves and for others, the pain doesn’t remain in its most dire, useless, self-perpetuating state. It is a great feeling to be in the position to help. Our pain gets to a higher level of healing and empowerment, when we use it to help others instead of using it to hurt others, to bring them down to the level of pain which we are feeling. (Unfortunately, misery loves company.) We get empowered over our pain when we use it as a catalyst to change what created our pain in the first place. Look at all of the people who have turned their own pain for good: civil rights leaders, women’s rights leaders, gay rights leaders, AA sponsors, diet/fitness gurus who were once overweight and unhealthy and now help others to get healthy, gun control advocates who have lost loved ones to violence, research advocates for a myriad of diseases who have lost loved ones to suffering, therapists and grief counselors who have healed their own mental health issues and want to help others to do the same, people who grew up poor and now create opportunities in the impoverished communities that they grew up in, spiritual leaders who once lost all hope, and then found inspiration and faith, and bring that inspiration to others, etc. etc.

We all have pain. Own your pain. Don’t deny it. Don’t let it eat you up inside and destroy you. Don’t remain unaware and project your pain onto someone else. Don’t compare your pain to others’ pain. This is your pain. Allow yourself to feel it. Be angry at who/what caused or contributed to your suffering. Be sad. Be compassionate. Make yourself seek help if you need help to process your pain. When you allow others to help you, you are giving them the great, empowered feeling of being in the position to help, and to continue to alchemize their own pain into uplifting good. When you accept help for your pain, you are letting your helper see that their own pain suffered wasn’t entirely in vain. And then, when you are feeling healed enough to start helping, do it. Do it. It is a great feeling to be in the position to help.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

2712. What phrase or quote best describes you?

Another Word For It

“People may call what happens at midlife “a crisis”, but it’s not. It’s an unravelling- a time when you feel a desperate pull to live the life you want to live, not the one you’re “supposed” to live. The unravelling is a time when you are challenged by the universe to let go of who you think you are supposed to be and to embrace who you are.” – Brené Brown

I believe that I truly started “unravelling” when I turned 40 and the Great Recession started the ball rolling for me, in a big way. Unravelling can be painful, but it can also be so liberating. And it’s funny, we sometimes smugly think that we get to a point of being completely “unravelled”, but then we realize that we still get all tangled and tied up in knots, reminding us that we still have a long ways to go.

Our middle son is in medical school, and we were Facetiming with him last night. He is currently working and learning in the Crisis Trauma Unit in a major hospital in a major city in our country. He has seen and witnessed more in a few weeks than I hope to ever experience in my lifetime. (Those of you who are in the medical arts, thank you for heeding your calling. Thank you for putting your incredible talents towards the healing of others. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.) I asked our son last night if anything really unnerved him the most about his experience. Was there anything that really gave him pause, more than anything else that he had experienced? He told me that it was surreal to see a patient die who had been all “done up” for the day. Their makeup was in place, and their nails were freshly done. It struck him deeply that they had no idea that this would be their last day alive on Earth.

Maybe we are all just balls of yarn, unravelling. We will unravel until we come to the end of our own line of string. Our string gets intertwined and tangled up with others, throughout the days of our own unravelling, making patterns and connections, and then sometimes it rolls on, in a line, all by itself. We have no idea when or where our own ball of string ends, so we may as well enjoy our own unravelling. We may as well get all made up, get a manicure, and roll on with our days with purpose and curiosity and gusto, until one day, much to our own surprise, we reach the end of our string. We are completely unravelled. We are no longer twisted in knots. Our own unique line has been added to the blanket of Life. And we are free.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

2319. Do you prefer vertical or horizontal stripes?

Night Seasons

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

There’s a few good things that are interesting to note, when you are going through one of your “night seasons”, as my aunt calls it. First of all, it’s the numbness. My mom used to call this “God’s anesthesia”. Yesterday, after my son’s seizure, while I had a few periods of crying jags and deep sadness, mostly, I was numb. I felt mostly calm and numb, and this was not caused by any kind of chemical outside of my body. When you go through a trauma, usually your merciful body numbs you right up, so that you can handle whatever you need to do. I think that this is a really nice standard feature of our bodies. I deeply appreciate the initial numbness.

Another thing that your night seasons show you, is that there are so many people who love you and who you can lean on. When you have several people in your life who you can call and/or you can text, and you can feel their deep care and empathy, it means the world. I think that I have friends of every religion praying for us right now, and this feels so great. Yesterday, one of my friends told me that her entire Baptist Church’s prayer warriors were “on it”, and another one of my more “new age” friends told me that she believes that people with epilepsy are getting downloads from God which the rest of us just can’t handle. She told me that my son is probably one of the most enlightened people on Earth. I don’t know if this is true, but all of the prayers and the insights brought me comfort. All of them did. God has many channels. Don’t ever be afraid of saying “the wrong thing” to someone who is hurting. I can always tell true care, over indifferent judgment and arrogance, and that’s never in the words being said. Ignorance being delivered with love, can be cleansed down to just the “love” part. Always err on the side of reaching out. I appreciate all of the love and the prayers from everyone, including my beloved readers of this blog. It sustains me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

The final insight about your night seasons, is that you get the reminder that people are mostly kind. Most people don’t want to witness other people’s pain. We had so much kindness bestowed on us yesterday, by perfect strangers, as we often do, when my son has a seizure in public. People want to help. People want to show you that they care. It’s traumatizing to witness a seizure, but people seem to overcome their fears, to act with deep concern and warmth and tenderness. Did I ever mention that EMT people are some of my favorite people on this Earth? They always make my son feel so good, and just like he is one of the “regular guys.” Yesterday, the EMTs got a good laugh with my son, when they reminded him that when my son was first coming out of his seizure, and they asked him who is president, in his hazy confusion, he said, “Lamar Jackson” (who is the quarterback for the Ravens). They all, including my son, got a big giggle out of that one. The EMTs made my son feel like he is a real stud (because he’s a big gym rat, who also attends a prestigious university), just when my son needed it most. These simple, empathic kindnesses are noticed by me, always. Always.

When you are in your night seasons, numbness, your own spirituality (and a big helping of others’ spirituality), and the overall kindness of strangers is what gets you through to the sunshine right around the bend. God has many channels. Yourself, your loved ones, and often perfect strangers, are the passageways, which God uses to get you safely to where the sun rises again. We are in good hands – our own hands, the loving hands of our friends and family, and the kind, empathic hands of strangers, which all come together to form the biggest hands of all. And these Big Hands are firmly and securely holding all of us with Love. This I know.