Finding Myself in Rock-Bottom Pieces

Compression

2011-05-17T21:34:00.000-07:00

Dubstep, rain, and popcorn. Three things I should not be indulging in right now, because I should be spending time studying for the MCAT. I have this sinking feeling, right below my sternum, that procrastination will be my downfall sooner or later. There's nothing I want more than to be in medical school studying all the things I love, but I am beginning to wonder what my behavior says about that desire. Part of me believes I will always be stuck living paycheck to paycheck, trying to make the tattered ends of my life meet.

There's pressure from all sides, compressing my brain until I just can't fucking breathe. I can handle loads of stress and maintain my emotions; the epitome of all my jobs....but when it comes to sitting alone with my thoughts and fears, the walls compress a little tighter, a feeling which is almost unbearable. Sometimes I wonder if I am just one coping skill away from a breakdown and often contemplate how I have lasted this long in life without needing medication or extensive therapy.

I am coming out of my skin when I am awake and having nightmares when I sleep. I fill up my life with work and things I love...only to avoid the real issue: discontent. There's not much worse than feeling stuck, with the clock ticking in the background. My fears are intricately entwined with my dreams. Family, medicine, mental health - I can't have them all, at least not in the way I want them. The fact I would choose medicine over a relationship and have seriously considered not having children because I will be too busy, makes me feel like a robot. How can I want something so badly, yet have such rough time following through?

Perhaps the best thing to do is see where med school applications go. Worst case scenario, I have to reapply next year and can spend that time working and enjoying the people in my life. I get so caught up in what I need to do, I tend to pass by the things that are really important; being happy with myself and celebrating where I am now along my path.

Like water in my lungs

2011-03-01T17:22:00.000-08:00

I am entirely too opinionated for my own good.

I have decided most of my relationships fail, because I have such a volatile personality and never seem to play well with others. Things are usually fine for a few months and then the Crazy rears its ugly head and they think twice about sticking around. I suppose I can't place blame; I don't like to be around me sometimes either. I am beginning to think I just can't be tamed.

Mental health issues run in my family history, so that certainly crosses my mind from time to time, prompting self-diagnosis. I find talk therapy helpful, but I do not want to get stuck in a medication cycle for symptoms that are a product of a shitty time in life. I have family, occupational, educational, and social supports, effective coping skills, acceptable sleep hygiene and I eat well and stay active....Despite all of this, there are times I get so overwhelmed, I retreat into my shell, the tears come and I just want everyone to leave me the fuck alone. Lately, I seem to be having more difficulty pulling myself out of these funks.

I think the bigger issue is how unhappy I am with where my life is now. I am angry all the time about getting married and divorced, wasting time finishing prereqs for med school and now being too busy to study, because I am trying to make enough money to survive. I feel stuck and alone, like there is no one who understands, which I suppose is cliche and dramatic.

It is so easy for me to focus on the negatives of life, because they are running rampant like breeding rabbits. The tasks ahead of me are daunting and seem impossible. I just want a little relief, but I am not sure how to get it, because I can't relax or take anything off my full plate. My head is just barely above water, with pinpoint light at the end of the tunnel.

Solutions

2011-01-08T19:27:00.001-08:00

At the tender age of 9 months, her little fingers grasped the bell end of the doctor's stethoscope and said, "What's this?" The physician, eyes wide towards the mother, figured his ears deceived him. However, she nodded slowly with a smile, "Yes, you heard right."

My mother likes to recount this event as often as possible; I can only wonder what it might be like to witness the birth of passion, especially in your own child. Despite this, I must confess a rather large portion of my adult life was spent attempting to avoid medical school, to snuff that flame burning for more knowledge, perhaps for fear of failure. The insecure part of Self wanted to heed advice such as; "Whatever you do Emily, do not go to medical school; it will surely kill you" or "Surgery? Why don't you become a dentist instead", which drowned any encouragement. Throughout my undergraduate studies, I discovered one thing was for certain; my hunger for finding solutions to help and fix the broken needed to be sated. Therefore, after graduation, BS in psychology under my belt, I began searching for that which would satisfy this thirst.

Most of my work and volunteer experience up to this point consisted of medical and mental health work; I found it difficult to decide which one I enjoyed the most. I eventually decided the best plan would be to pursue a career in emergency field medicine while supplementing with mental health work at an adult crisis house, hoping that would quiet my inner turmoil. After working as an EMT for two years, I realized I was more interested in patient diagnosis and prognosis than chief complaint and field work; both completely out of my scope of practice as an EMT-Basic. I was yearning to see patients through to their recovery, wanting to do more than a field assessment and get them quickly to the ER. I can still recall the first time I began to doubt a career on an ambulance; after transporting a patient with blood found in his cerebrospinal fluid to a different hospital for a higher level of care, I expressed to my shift partner I was curious to see further testing results. My partner replied, "Well, we won't know and it doesn't matter because our job is to get people to the hospital alive." Shocked at his response, something clicked inside me; he was wrong, because it did matter to me. At that very moment, I knew my place was meant to be on the receiving end of a medical emergency, which would require me to submit to my fears and pursue allopathic medical school.

There is no short answer to why I want to be a physician; however, if I had to pick the main reason it would be I have a deep seeded desire to solve problems. Case in point; B was a 21-year-old male patient diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia, whose auditory hallucinations and delusions caused him to believe he had psychic abilities and was a "visionary". These delusions left him with little insight into his mental health symptoms and non-compliant with medications. Most nights he would think staff was plotting to hurt and rape him and would hear his brother screaming for help, which caused him great distress. Every shift working with him at the crisis house involved brainstorming with other staff new solutions to his severe, almost violent outbursts, while encouraging him to take his medication, Abilify 30mg, one tablet every morning and Risperdal 2mg, one tablet twice daily. In working with B's psychiatrist in case management, we noticed a trend in his behavior; with many artistic talents, B's internal stimuli appeared to decrease substantially when he created music with a computer program or did art therapy. As a team, we were able to redirect his anger by reflecting his feelings regarding hallucinations and developing a safety plan, which included using music as a coping mechanism. As he began to stabilize on his medication, B eventually became more lucid and his hallucinations decreased enough for him to agree to start Invega Sustenna, an injectable anti-psychotic, given once a month. B was able to discharge home to his father's house after showing a significant improvement in behavior. This is an example how being part of a treatment team is the best way to tackle medical and mental health problems, and as a physician, I look forward to playing a more active role in the solutions.

People look to physicians to treat and heal them in a way that is unique to medicine; when there is a physical or mental ailment, doctors are seen as the ones to provide solutions, holding them to a higher standard. My dedication to developing solutions and genuine positive regard for mankind has created potential for the making of not only a good physician, but a compassionate healer who can listen and problem solve, while working with others on a treatment team.

Crossing Bridges

2011-01-02T15:53:00.000-08:00

Planning and preparing are two things I do naturally in life, however, I have noticed I tend to try and cross the bridge before I even get there. I suppose my problem is being TOO efficient, which is ultimately a waste of time and energy - what if the bridge is washed away or damaged by the time I actually get there? What if a different path becomes available? I cannot make solid plans for the unknown, but no matter how often I am reminded of this, I continue to battle the future. Conclusion: I cannot let things be and must control everything, which is neurotic, because there is not much under my control!

There is a delicate balance for me between rolling with the punches and anticipating hits I see coming. My jobs working in a crisis house and on the ambulance require me to function in emergencies and problem solve in the moment. I cannot for the life of me figure out why this does not apply to my personal life. I consider myself intelligent and highly insightful of my own mental health and life choices, yet I worry and calculate what might be in hopes I can control the outcome. I can give, in detail, my five and ten year plan, but who can say things won't change or that I may get in a car accident and die? I am certainly not saying we should never make plans, but rather make several different plans fully expecting to make adjustments along the way. This is something I have yet to master in my own life.

More than anything I want to be a physician and I have many treacherous bridges to cross before I get there. I absolutely believe I need to stick to the main plan of action which is similar for alot of people with the same goal, but I also need to be flexible when the unexpected rears its ugly head. There is no doubt I have the stamina and determination to get through medical school and residency. I do worry about lacking motivation when times get really tough, which is why I want to surround myself with people who will support and encourage me. I have gone months working almost every day and going to school, but we are talking about years of hard work and little sleep. Seems like a crazy idea, but nothing feels more right for my life purpose.

The Cost of Self

2010-12-18T18:06:00.000-08:00

When I left my ex-husband last year, my goal was to remain single (i.e. not in a committed relationship) for at least one year. The reasoning behind this was my unhealthy tendency to move from one guy to the next without allowing for any healing space in between. Additionally, I challenged myself to live alone for at least the first six months, since I had never experienced that kind of independence previously. Both have been challenging and rewarding.

I will admit, the first two months alone in my new apartment were very lonely and I chronically felt sorry for myself, despite the fact I was the one who wanted all this change. I abused my close friends with dramatic and crazy text and phone calls, trying to be at peace with myself. Being married is definitely like being in an exclusive club....and divorced equals outcast, especially when it all happens before the age of 30. Despite the difficult path I paved for myself, I have reached the end of my year a changed person, with a new outlook on life.

Probably the most important life lesson I have learned is there is no one who is worth the cost of changing your core in order to be with them. Second, love is important, but it isn't enough to keep a marriage or relationship together. I think Hollywood has completely ruined the idea of love (and sex!) and has set everyone up for disappointment. I do not need a man to feel complete and I certainly do not need to be in a relationship to feel good about myself or have close friendships. That being said, I do still desire intimacy and companionship, I have merely become more particular about who I share my life with.

Men are from Mars....

2010-12-11T21:57:00.000-08:00

Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus....we have all heard this expression and have probably made reference to it without ever actually reading the book. The fact there are whole books on the differences of men and women is rather comical, due to the fact it is obvious to anyone over the age of five, men and women are nothing alike. Children learn from a very young age that boys and girls have different plumbing and throughout the journey towards adulthood, only discover that we are in fact from two different planets. My conclusion; I apparently am from neither.

Throughout my life I have experienced love and heartbreak, unfaithfulness, marriage and divorce, etc. I have always deduced the culprit of repeated failed relationships to be my inability to choose a proper mate, stemming from my complicated daddy issues blah blah blah. Presently, there are a handful of men in my life I truly love and care for; intimate friendships that are fulfilling in their own way...However, it seems I may only ever be the person to confide in or have fun with until a more 'compatible' female comes along. Now, I find no fault in this strategy, but one thing baffles me; it appears I am being passed up for predictability and settling down. This begs the question: If I were less attractive, not as intelligent or did not have high ambitions would this move me out of the friend realm? I am beginning to wonder if I am too intimidating and if I am trading love and family for pursuit of medical school.

Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to have a house, normal career, husband and kids; it all feels nice, but then I catch myself saying, "Now what?". I often believe there is something wrong with me when I think nothing sounds more depressing than working 9 to 5 for the rest of my life, with my world consisting of only a cozy little family, white picket fence and a couple dogs. The aspirations I have for life encompass so much more. I have many talents and I deeply believe I would be doing a disservice to myself by keeping those secret. Family is definitely important and should be a foundation of love and support, but I also believe only caring for your family is selfish. Many people do not have family and need the love and support of those who can help.

I suppose that all sounds rather pretentious, hence my thoughts on being a stranger to both men and women. Ultimately, I feel I have a greater purpose in this life than just being a wife/homemaker. Thanks to my line of work, I have come to realize there are many hurting and broken people in the world and I plan on using all my talents and energy to put a dent in suffering. It will take someone incredibly special to stand by me through all that. I won't hold my breath.

The D-word

2010-06-02T22:06:00.000-07:00

Like most little girls, growing up I often fantasized about getting married, building a house, having children and living happily ever after. Yes, I was one of those girls who played MASH at slumber parties and secretly hoped my favorite Backstreet boy would runaway with me. Somehow this was disembodied from another dream for my life: medical school. As I matured and made my way through college I began to realize a terrible thing; I didn't know who the hell I was, let alone what I really wanted for my career goals. As I reflect presently, I believe I unconsciously defaulted to my second dream and found myself in a couple toxic, long-term relationships, desparately wanting marriage and the white picket fence.

I continued on this path, finding less toxic people to be with and discovering new layers to Self. After I graduated and moved out of state, I eventually found a great guy with a loving, connected family and had a fairytale romance, engagement, wedding and honeymoon; everything I had dreamed as a little girl...

Enter Self-discovery.

About a year into the marriage, I really began pursuing my desires for a career that would fill the holes in my heart. Working as an EMT and mental health worker opened my eyes and rekindled a passion for what I really wanted out of life. To everyone's dismay and my husband's detriment, this did not include marriage. Now, before you pass judgment, I must say I did not reach this decision lightly or without extreme discourse in my heart and soul. I certainly tried to ignore it and push on, but the desire to be unhindered became so loud I was forced to voice the monster. Counseling only helped confirm I married someone I barely knew all for the hope of a happy ending. I am, of course, not speaking of love. I absolutely married for love. I love a lot of people, but that doesn't mean I should run to the altar.

Divorce brings out the worst in people; they take sides and point fingers and demand explanations. I have been confronted with anger and hurt, but mostly a quiet judgment, which is more difficult to deal with. He really didn't do anything wrong, which is perhaps where the confusion arises. I simply realized both our career paths were on opposite courses and neither person should have to compromise. My love quickly faded to affection around this time and I felt it would be wrong to continue living a lie, because he deserves to be with someone who can be there for him. Words cannot express how deeply sorry I am for hurting everyone I have through this whole mess. My only regret is that we did not date for longer, because I think I would have reached the same end. A painful lesson I will never forget.

Perhaps I am much too ambitious and independent for marriage. I have always been in a relationship and am therefore looking forward to remaining single for awhile, maybe all through med school. Sure, the first month or so was tough living on my own, but having my own space is rewarding. I have learned more about myself in the past six months than I have my whole life. For now, I am content keeping my friends and family close and steering away from romantic relationships and it will definitely take someone amazing to change all that.

Boundaries

2009-12-02T13:57:00.000-08:00

Signs of Healthy Boundaries

--Appropriate trust
--Revealing a little of yourself at a time, then checking to see how the other person responds
--Moving step-by-step into intimacy
--Putting a new acquaintanceship on hold until you check for compatibility
--Deciding whether a potential relationship will be good for you
--Staying focused on your own growth and recovery
--Maintaining personal values despite what others think
--Noticing when someone else displays inappropriate boundaries
--Respect for others; not giving too much in hope that someone will like you
--Not allowing someone to take advantage of your generosity
--Trusting your own decisions
--Defining your truth, as you see it
--Knowing who you are and what you want
--Recognizing that friends and partners are not mind readers
--Clearly communicating your wants and needs (recognizing that you may be turned down)
--Becoming your own loving parent
--Talking to yourself with gentleness, humor, love, and respect

Signs of Unhealthy Boundaries

--Trusting no one or trusting everyone
--Telling all
--Being overly intimate on the first meeting
--Falling in love with a new acquaintance before knowing them
--Falling in love with anyone who may help you
--Being preoccupied with someone
--Going against personal values or rights to please others
--Not noticing when someone displays inappropriate boundaries
--Not noticing when someone invades your boundaries
--Accepting food, gifts, touch, sex that you don't want
--Taking as much as you can get for the sake of getting
--Giving as much as you can give for the sake of giving
--Allowing someone to take as much as they can from you
--Letting others direct your life
--Letting others define you
--Letting others describe your reality
--Believing others can anticipate your needs
--Expecting others to fulfill your needs automatically
--Falling apart so someone will take care of you
--Food/drug/alcohol/self abuse

Heart Strings

2009-11-22T14:06:00.000-08:00

For many years I have pondered what it is about medicine and patient care that really draws me. The question is convoluted to begin with, so I am not surprised there is no easy answer. Both of my jobs as an EMT and a crisis house mental health worker involve caring for damaged people; whether the ailment is physical, emotional or a combination of the two. I love each job equally, but recently, I have noticed what tugs at my heart the most is what I can see and feel during that instance of soul-piercing eye contact.

When I look in someone's eyes, I feel raw human emotion and my skin tingles, because it is as if I have stumbled upon something at its purest moment. Unfortunately, it is usually only a glimpse and then it disappears. I have decided this peek into the soul is the key to truly loving people, even when they are irritating, hurtful or just plain rude. Making that kind of connection with people warms my heart and confirms my belief that everyone is capable of love and deserves to be loved.

Half of me wants to pursue a surgical specialty in medical school, but the other half desires the mental health profession. I haven't quite decided how to satisfy my need for medical knowledge as well as providing psychological support. The obvious answer is psychiatry, but I am apprehensive to steer away from EMS. Therefore, I suppose the next step would be to explore why working in stressful, emergency situations is so appealing to me. Perhaps the feeling of rescuing people from some kind of darkness spackles those little holes in my heart.

One thing is for certain; the fire in my heart isn't just a thirst for knowledge, it is a passion to help people emerge from the dark spots in life and to fight their demons. I believe we are called to use our talents to help those who have fallen; now I just have to find the best way to do that.

The other side of the Mountain

2009-04-17T00:20:00.001-07:00

Anyone who knows me will agree I have always had a passion for medicine and helping those in need; in fact, my nickname among close friends is "Dr. Dove". I suppose I have always been drawn to biology, anatomy, physiology, etc, ever since I was very young. My mother likes to tell the story about my first encounter as a baby when I grabbed the doctor's stethoscope and said, "What's this?" My very first memories of hopes and dreams involved me wanting to be a doctor and, therefore, began pursuing my interest quite early. With my mom's help and connections at a hospital in MT I spent many hours throughout high school volunteering in the ER and shadowing surgeons in the OR trying to pin point exactly what I wanted to do.

As I grew older, I started to realize I wasn't sure if my desire to be a doctor was genuine. I suspected I was only trying to fulfill my need for approval and acceptance with family and friends, which is what drove me to seek a degree in psychology instead of premed. However, thanks to many trials and tribulations, I now have a better idea of Self and have been able to delve a little deeper into my reasoning behind the path I took through college.

Along with my need for approval I also have a debilitating fear of failure, but not just any failure, since I can appreciate the necessity of learning from mistakes. I speak of the possibility of failing at something that could potentially define my very being. I suppose this sounds a little dramatic, but when I consider what it would be like to be in medical school, my heart races and a pit of anxiety forms in my gut. As if on cue, my arch enemy, the Inner Critic, is loudest when I ponder an M. D., which makes actually going to medical school seem quite a bit more difficult that it should be. What if I put all that time, energy, and money into it and fail? What if my marriage suffers, because the journey is so long and tiring? What if . . .

Life is full of peaks and valleys, so-to-speak, and in my personal uphill battle this particular endeavor would be equal to climbing Mt. Everest! The interesting thing about this analogy is it is impossible to determine where a valley ends and a peak begins and one cannot exist without the other. Some peaks are minor blips and others are mountains, and if you never climb moutains, how can you determine what your valleys are? If medical school is Mt. Everest and I can reach the top, the view will be breath taking and certainly worth the struggle! Unfortunately, this thought is fleeting and my mind spirals down when I consider how many people don't ever reach the top of Mt. Everest before they have to turn around.

To be honest, the only major thing holding me back is, well, ME. I only need a few prereq classes, the MCAT and being accepted somewhere, so must really decide on what is most important to me. I know for sure I want to work as a helping professional and I cannot deny the fact my passion is for medicine. I have a feeling I will not be content being a paramedic for very long and at some point I will need an even bigger challenge.

Logically, I know I can do anything I put my mind to, since I have been blessed with intelligence and determination. Medical school will definitely be one of the largest peaks in my life, but I am beginning to think highest mountain ahead is overcoming my own insecurities.

Old Habits

2009-01-08T23:44:00.000-08:00

There is a saying, "Old habits die hard"; but I have come to realize that my old habits simply won't die. No matter how many times I repeat my "mantras" about when it is and is not appropriate to help other people, I continue to have the knee jerk response; help everyone, no matter the problem or cost to Self. I have been calling this caretaking, but I think a more appropriate term is the Superhero complex.

The other day, I went with my family to In & Out Burger for my sister's birthday. As we pulled in to a parking space, I didn't notice anything unusual, just people eating burgers. One woman was outside sitting at a table by herself. We are about to get out when, suddenly, she leaps from her seat and flings open the door of the car next to my door. There is a slightly overweight man in the driver's seat finishing a burger. The woman knocks the rest of his food out of his hands and demands he let her drive. She proceeds to call him all sorts of names regarding his weight. I notice several things in about 3 seconds. He has a wedding ring on and is probably the unfortunate husband of this mad woman, she is half his size, and there is a baby in the backseat. My mother and I calmly ask if we may exit the van, since her outburst is blocking us in. She tries to close her car door enough to let us out, while she is bent over this poor man screaming about how he is embarassing her. The man keeps his cool, or rather, cowers in the car pleading with her to let us out. She finally goes around the other side so we can get out of the car. I was so shocked at what I had just witnessed, I couldn't help but say, "Yikes." I am guessing she didn't hear me or chose to not say anything, since she didn't turn her fury on me.

As we walk inside, I am having a major internal battle about what to do. I had just witnessed domestic abuse and perhaps child endangerment. I watch them carefully from inside to see what happens next. Superhero Emily is working on convincing Logical Emily to call the police, call CPS, restrain the mad woman, do SOMETHING to help that poor man! In the span of about five minutes, the man steps out of the car, the woman gets in and speeds off, leaving him in the In & Out parking lot. He sees me looking at him, shakes his head and walks off in defeat. I could feel his embarassment and shame through the glass doors, which triggers yet another bout of the Superhero complex.

By the end of those five minutes I was already telling myself that, although terrible, what I had just seen was not my problem. I played out what would have happened had I called the police; both parties would have already left, I didn't have any info on the make, model, or license plate # of the car to give to police, and more than likely, the man would not press charges or simply deny anything happened. I would have been left feeling frustrated and depressed about not being able to help, which would have confirmed all the negative thoughts I have of my Self.

A counselor once told me to picture life as a trek uphill (which isn't hard to do, right?!) and that we are all carrying knapsacks for the journey. Sometimes, along the way, we have to push boulders out of the way in order to continue, but most of the time we have knapsacks. If we are always stopping to help everyone carry their knapsacks, who is helping you? Furthermore, how are you helping them by taking care of their problems? The part that really got me is this: if we are constantly carrying other's problems, we are only setting them up for failure when they experience larger problems or even similar obstacles. Everyone must learn how to overcome on their own. Therefore, the healthy thing to do is walk alongside encouraging people and when a boulder (a really big, life-changing problem) comes along, we can help push, but not take over pushing. This way, everyone works on carrying their own load. I think the reason why I had such a hard time deciding what to do is because my mind didn't determine fast enough if the problem was a boulder or knapsack in these people's lives.

I had only seen a brief snipit of this couple's lives and was ready to take over. I think what I really witnessed was a very sad knapsack event. Maybe this guy needed to be left stranded in order to walk home and determine that what he really needed to do was set some boundaries with his wife. If I had intervened, maybe I would have robbed him of some much needed time for thinking about his situation. Who knows, but I do know I feel good about not taking my Superhero complex and running, well flying, with it.

Bad Data

2009-01-01T23:11:00.000-08:00

This past year has been filled with many struggles; the major one being my relationship with God. Since the time I moved to California from Bozeman in August of 2006, the path has been very difficult, in part, because I was trudging through uncharted territory. I made excuses and said I had no where else to go after I graduated (and ditched the alcoholic/addict boyfriend), but the truth is I was trying to escape all the hurt and disappointment surrounding me in Bozeman. The funny thing about escaping is you can't get away from yourself, no matter how many times you change the scenery and God seems to be everywhere even when I was trying to escape Him.

For awhile, I blamed God and all the "crazy" people of the ICOC church for duping me into following so blindly. I felt I had sacrificed a lot by moving to Bozeman on a mission team only to have my life hit rock bottom. After that whole experience I wanted nothing to do with church people, because they seemed to always fail me when I was hurting the worst. Two and a half years later I have come to the conclusion I have simply been collecting bad data and trying to prove faulty hypotheses about faith and God. I say "faulty", because I have had a distorted view of God and an even more damaged view of myself. I blame this on my previous inability to think for myself and uncanny habit of following what the "only true Christians" were doing and said I should be doing in order to get to Heaven.

I have only recently softened my heart towards the ICOC church, and in fact, have reconnected with several people from that time in my life (some who have found their way out at well). I now believe no one meant any harm, but their blind faith and legalistic ways hurt a lot of people. I have learned to be much more careful about how I am involved in the church setting these days. Being able to participate in a "small group" at the church I currently go to is, unfortunately, an obstacle further down the road. I have asked God to forgive me for doubting His ability to meet me more than half way and for being so angry as to push Him away. I don't think I will ever feel completely right with God, simply because I am inept at understanding how He could possible love anyone on this earth.

I have been reading Romans lately and a particular verse stuck out to me:

Romans 4:13-15

(New International Version)

"13 It was not through law that Abraham and his offspring received the promise that he would be heir of the world, but through the righteousness that comes by faith. 14 For if those who live by law are heirs, faith has no value and the promise is worthless, 15 because law brings wrath. And where there is no law there is no transgression."

(The Message)

"13-15That famous promise God gave Abraham—that he and his children would possess the earth—was not given because of something Abraham did or would do. It was based on God's decision to put everything together for him, which Abraham then entered when he believed. If those who get what God gives them only get it by doing everything they are told to do and filling out all the right forms properly signed, that eliminates personal trust completely and turns the promise into an ironclad contract! That's not a holy promise; that's a business deal. A contract drawn up by a hard-nosed lawyer and with plenty of fine print only makes sure that you will never be able to collect. But if there is no contract in the first place, simply a promise—and God's promise at that—you can't break it."

Every Christian and even most non-Christians know God's gift of eternal life is just that; a gift. To my detriment, I have never stopped to question how anyone came to that conclusion and simply believed it. Finding the meaning for myself in the Bible has been like a light bulb in my brain. The Message version of those verses really helped me understand that my relationship with God is not about marking off a to-do list. At our worst, God still loved us enough to sacrifice His son, and that is what I am still trying to wrap my mind around; because if I were God, I would have obliterated mankind a LONG time ago.

As hard as the past years have been, I think I have been given the opportunity to start fully appreciating who God really is. Whether or not I have made the right decisions regarding my relationship with God, the goal has been to find it for myself. Which parts were free will and which were God's I will never know; but I DO know now that bad data can still produce significant results, which can form better hypotheses.

Convoluted Self

2008-12-04T23:49:00.000-08:00

Over the past five months I have come to realize I hold a lot of self-worth in having an occupation. I have cycled through many bouts of depression, feeling less than worthless for being unemployed. I cannot say I am happy to not be working, but I can admit the passing months have made me analyze parts of myself I previously would have sworn up and down could not be separated from Self. I have reached this conclusion in much the same way a bird slams in to an "invisible" window. Blind-sided!

Since I have not been able to identify with a job, I have been forced to dig up other things when I think of the question; "Who am I?" Since I have acquired skills from counseling, those other attributes are not difficult to come up with; loving, loyal, patient, emotional, intelligent, compassionate, intuitive, etc. What interests me is: Why did I put so much value in the jobs I have held? This habit of mine has always been a part of me, even before my first job in high school. I distinctly remember being horrified at having to work at pizza place in the mall and felt I was better than that. I learned quickly that it was hard work and there was a lot to be said about having humility and being grateful for a job, period. Of course, I was 16 when I secured my next job (with help from my mom and her connections) in a research lab, which reinstated my distorted view of Self.

Looking back, I honestly believed, and still do to some, OKAY, a great extent, that if everyone could see all my accomplishments and goals, I must be successful. At first glance, this idea seems correct, but it couldn't be further from the truth. I was so focused on what my goals and dreams were, according to what I knew great people aspired to do, I completely overlooked what was really important; figuring out what was within Self. Up until recently, I was merely decorating Self with accomplishments and earthly goals, so everyone could see, and if they could see how good I was, that meant I really was a good person. Sound familiar?! It is back to the incessant Good people go to Heaven and Bad people go to Hell, so I had better be on the Good list!

Now, hindsight is 20/20 and there is no possible way, unless a time machine is invented, I could have known all this at 17 years of age. However, eight years later, I am able to delve into my past with the knowledge I have now, which is a little like time travel. I certainly can't change anything, but I can clear some of the fog off the spectacles I use to view Self. Ironically, there was no way for me to come to my understanding of Self today without all my experiences/mistakes/delusions of the past. Interesting.

"Breath"

2008-11-20T12:49:00.000-08:00

With your first breath you were welcomed
In to this life
By a mother who loves you
And a father who will always hold you tight
With another breath you sighed
At true love’s first kiss
And breathed life into
Two wonderful kids
Your heart was big, filled with compassion
And love
A gift we all know came from
Our big breath of life above
You were always eager
To lend a helping hand
For your family, neighbors, stranger
Or a friend
Despite your hardships
Your faith has shown through
The 7th floor ICU and your entire family
Have seen what God can do
With many breaths we wept with you
Through your battle against cancer
Sending a loud breath to heaven
Because we don’t have the answers
One harmonious breath kept you company
In the last hours
Perhaps it was us who needed
Its comforting powers
And with life’s last breath
Into God’s open arms you fly
Where happiness is endless
Sickness disappears
Pain ends
And there are no more tears to cry.

E. Jones ©2007

**In loving memory of Richard A. Bell**
10/01/80-11/21/07

Monster in the Drink

2008-10-31T00:49:00.000-07:00

Despite what anyone may say about him, Dr. Phil is someone I really admire and I watch his show whenever I can. Today I saw the first of three episodes of the “Get Real Retreat”; a special that focuses on fourteen people and their quest to face their deepest issues. Watching these people start their journey hit me personally, since I have been figuring out my own issues for the past few years. The problems vary, but one in particular touched something inside me and I need to put words to it.

Two of the fourteen people are actually a married couple of four years, with a two-year-old daughter. The man is a raging alcoholic, meaning 40-50 beers a day, two to three months each binge period, and the woman could be the poster child for enabling. None of that bothered me; I could talk all day about my experience with alcoholism to anybody. Following their introduction were a few clips of the man during his binges. Every morning after drinking all day and evening, he puked his guts out and would shake (DTs from withdrawal) and moan and cry, hugging the toilet . . . while his little girl tried to help him (enabler in the making), “Here you go, daddy”. His reply, “You know daddy isn’t supposed to drink beer”; off camera a little voice says, “But, you do anyhow.” My heart sunk. That little girl is probably the most grounded person in that house! There were other clips of him barely able to sit-up to drink more beer or screaming for his wife to get him another. This man doesn’t work or do anything that resembles being a father or husband. In fact, he didn’t seem too thrilled about being on the Dr. Phil show.

After the clips, and some very harsh words from Dr. Phil, I was glued to the couch. My heart was racing, I was holding my breath and panic was rising in my stomach. My last six months in Bozeman, MT flashed before my eyes and I thought, “Oh my gosh, that all really happened.” As the show moved on, my nerves quieted and I put it to the back of my mind. However, I have been continuing to think about where those feelings came from.

Before I moved to Bozeman in 2004 on a mission team for the church I was involved in, Boyfriend #2 and I started dating. He had just begun his relationship with God and I was beyond delusional about mine; which was what our friendship was built on before we were interested in dating. I am positive the only reason he came to Bozeman was to be with me, but I was convinced at the time that he was just being really spiritual. His background before becoming a Christian was doing every drug under the sun, parties, girls, etc. I had complete faith he could drop all of that for God (and I still believe it, but the person has to actually do it for the faith part to kick in) and for me.

Things in Bozeman gradually went from uncomfortable to miserable. We weren’t being very successful as a mission and I was stressing out with trying to finish my degree and be involved in church functions five times a week. BF#2 decided he didn’t want to be part of the church anymore after a year and therefore was considered a fall away AKA non-Christian. The rule for the church is: no dating non-Christians, so I was firmly asked to choose God or BF#2. At this point, I was so fed up with everything I stopped going, I avoided my roommates (who were a part of the church) and finally moved out to a studio apartment with my boyfriend. I cut off all communication with the church and with God. I was very angry and hurt, but that is a different story.

Before we moved in together, I knew BF#2 had a drinking problem. His sister and I took him to the ER sometime around Christmas of 2005, because he was puking up everything except booze. Now, any emotionally stabilized and well-balanced person (which unfortunately does not describe most people) would have said, “See ya” and never looked back at this point. I, however, was determined to help him see his problem and to fix it. I never saw the red flags, because I didn’t know what to look for and was too busy caretaking. The only people I knew were the crazy church people, BF#2, his sister, and my coworkers; I was completely isolated and not only enabling his alcoholism, but my caretaking.

For the following six months, I kept his dark secret from everyone. The only people who knew were the three of us and their mom. I would tell lies for him and insist that he was sick or didn’t feel well. He was so good at being an alcoholic/addict, he was able to keep his job and find all kinds of ways to get booze no matter how hard I tried to keep it from him. I hid the keys, took his wallet, found his hiding places, dumped out all I could find, etc. Pathetic. I took him to the ER several times within that six month period. I cleaned up puke out of my car and off me (I will never forget that ER trip!), urine every time he missed the toilet, empty bottles of vodka stashed around the apartment, I took money out of his wallet and bank account to pay the rent and I had to borrow money from his mom when he didn’t have any. Every ER visit I was so embarrassed, and angry, because he never remembered any of it. He would wake up wondering what had happened to his head from a fall the previous night or not remember days at a time, all the while promising a thousands times he would stop drinking. Each ER trip, his blood alcohol level was around 0.30 and I think everyone knew his problem (except him); I just didn’t realize it was HIS problem and not mine.

I was sinking deeper into this sand pit called Addiction and desperately needed a way out, I just had to realize the path to freedom was through me.

We all come from something, imperfections and all

2008-10-28T14:56:00.000-07:00

A therapist of mine once called me a “hero child”. I have spent the last couple years trying to wrap my mind around this concept and to understand what it means. Her belief was that I was able to rise above the turmoil in my life and become something better for myself and for my younger sisters. We have all heard about the trend of how abuse/addictions are passed on to the children who grow up to become the same way or end up picking mates who are similar to the offending parent. The flip side is this “hero child” scenario where the circle is broken.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a pretty happy childhood, I was never abused in anyway. I learned most of my morals and life skills from my mother and I very naturally slipped in to the pseudo-parent role, simply because of the lack of a strong father figure. My co-dependency developed from being the oldest child and feeling very protective of my sisters when they were the brunt of my dad’s physical and verbal anger. I imagine I escaped his “discipline”, because I rarely misbehaved and was almost 7-years-old when he married my mom. They divorced when I was about 16-years-old. I was upset, but I don’t think I really knew why at the time; perhaps I figured it was the appropriate response to learning about your parent’s not wanting to be married anymore. Now that I am older and have had many therapy sessions on the matter, I realize it was pent up frustration and hurt at not being able to do anything about how he treated my sisters and mother (and our pets for that matter). And so began my habit of being in long-term relationships (two, to be specific and not including my current marriage) where I obsessively tried to “fix” their shortcomings. As painful as both of my past relationships were (boyfriend #1 was a chronic liar and a cheat, boyfriend #2 was an alcoholic/addict), I have learned quite a bit about myself and the world, which has prevented me from hurting the people I have in my life now. We all have to experience mess ups, so I am glad it was them and not anyone I hold dear to my heart now.

Boyfriend #2’s drinking problem went beyond out of control while we were living in Bozeman, so not only was I dealing with my enabling of his addictive behaviors, I was also trying to nurture an unhealthy relationship with God (oh, and finish my degree). Since I was away from any true support, I turned to counseling, but only after I had a major panic attack. I took that as my body telling me it could not function with my current mental state at that point in life. I was never opposed to therapy; hello, my degree is in psychology, but I was determined to live life without help. I was so busy trying to fix everyone else’s problems; I neglected my own well being. Not taking care of oneself is a problem everyone has, but codependents are experts. Eight months post-panic attack I was beginning to feel fed-up with being in Bozeman and with BF#2. My pivotal moment came when I picked him up from the bus stop after his 28 day stint in rehab. He was sober, but still the same, because he had picked up a new addiction, cigarettes! Two weeks later, he was drinking again. My conclusion from my therapy sessions was that BF#2 was not my problem. He was never going to change unless he really wanted to. I had to be crazy to stay with someone like that, so I high-tailed it out of there and never looked back. Once I got to Cali, I immersed myself in counseling and family; I saw the problem in me and was going to fix ME for a change.

My therapist and I decided a couple months ago that I should try dealing with things on my own; now that I have all the proper coping skills (I seriously have a plan for “coping in case of ____” next to the bed). Some people think therapy is for crazy or really mentally disturbed people. I would say they have never utilized a counselor’s services and can, therefore, not make an accurate assessment. I am grateful for all I have learned and continue to learn about myself and my place in the world. My next character issues to tackle are my father issues and my relationship with God, which curiously have a lot to do with one another! I think everyone has some crazy in them; it is just a matter of having the courage to face your demons and find yourself. Be your own hero.