A Marriage Made in..Bigotry

Can't sleep.  Thanks a lot, North Carolina.
A few thoughts about marriages, gay and otherwise.

Marriage is a social, cultural and legal institution.  It extends rights, encourages economic stability and the forming of households that create the backbone of community.  It's a great place to raise kids.   It's a opportunity to choose love against isolation, and to develop spiritually by learning how to negotiate fitting two stories into a bigger one. When done mindfully, it brings the intention of encouraging and supporting two individuals to extend themselves in identifying and bringing to fruition the highest, wisest hearts of self and partner.

all dressed up and nowhere to go

It isn't solely for procreation, or God would smite down all barren persons, right?  And it would follow that older persons should not marry if indeed childbearing is the main purpose.  But most religions have no issue with the childless marriage.  Christian heterosexual marriages, sadly, are not much more likely to succeed than unions not blessed by a church.  Baptists have among the highest divorce rates, outpacing agnostics and atheists alike.

The State of Marriage is a Mess. But homosexuals don't seem the biggest threat to it toppling over.  If you're straight, It's much more likely that another heterosexual will threaten your marriage then a gay person. You're really probably safe there. People spend too much money, time and anxiety planning weddings and way too little thinking about how they want to create a marriage.  Gays will probably do some of that too.  But I am less worried about people who want to attempt a life of love and commitment than those who find that threatening.

If you are gay, or barren, or reasonably compassionate-- if you fall into the majority of Americans who have no issue with two committed persons of sound mind and high intentions being allowed to publicly and legally proclaim their love and desire to merge their lives and homes-- I hope you will write your elected officials and tell them it's time to get on board.  When women were allowed to work for pay, and not viewed under the law as property of men, when slaves were freed and children removed from dangerous labor jobs and allowed to go to school, the world didn't end.  It grew up some, accepting its responsibility to be humane and to extend rights from a privileged few to more of its citizens.

It's time to do the right thing, and stand together for love.

       I can't understand for the life of me why the Pope, among other religious and political leaders, would say that gay marriages would threaten the future of humanity.  Maybe this video can clear that up:

Springing into Mindful Action

Just when we thought the dark would never end, Spring shows up to tart up the place.  Blooms are busting out, and though it's STILL raining (hey, it's Oregon-- we don't expect dry til the 4th of July), we can't help but smile at all the color.

While it's traditional to make resolutions with the start of the New Year in January, most of us don't have the energy then.  Winter is the time of dark, rest and reflection.  Spring is the time for renewal and lively action. First Alternative Co-op's Thymes writer Dave Williams reminds us that this is the time to plant seeds for what we want to harvest in our future (to read his great article, click and scroll to page six here).  Spring's buxom and generous nature encourages us to wake up and get moving, to bust out our full palette of creativity and to access our hidden reserves.

Spring offers us the wind.  The sail's been there all along.  It's up to us to find a good direction.

Related posts:
Create A Map for Your Destination
Set Reasonable Goals
Listen to What Future Self Wants

Marked for Depression? Maybe an Implant Could Help

The Big Black Dog (W. Churchill's nickname for the depression that plagued him) is big in the news this month.
News icon Mike Wallace's death (from old age, instead of suicide) brought tributes to his bravery in outing himself as a sufferer.  In doing so he helped lead the way in destigmatizing a disease that was long seen as a weakness or a lifestyle choice.

CNN published two interesting articles this week about identification and treatment of depression.  Researcher Eva Redei has been working with rats specially bred with "depressive traits" for 25 years to search for biological differences that can be isolated as markers of genetic predisposition to depression.  .  While you can't exactly interview a rat about its emotional state, these specialized breeds show classic signs of the functional markers of depression, such as difficulty with planning, problem solving and decision making, poor persistence and adapability, and a helpless response to stress. Redei reports she has identified 26 unique markers in the blood of the unhappy rats.  In recent experiments with human volunteers, she found 5 of these markers present.  Possible implications include screening tests to identify markers-- and perhaps intervene before the cascade of depression issues become a self-replicating problem.

Also in the news was an update, with Real-Life Anecdotes, of the use of deep brain stimulator implants to treat depression.  Used for years with Parkinson's sufferers, these devices act like a pacemaker for the brain, ramping up underactive areas that seem to be responsible for the troublesome symptoms of depressive disorders.  These surgeries must be performed on a conscious patient, so they can report what happens in their mind as different areas of the brain are stimulated.  I first read about this a while back, and if I can locate the article I'll print it here.  What I vividly remember and found compelling for the idea that depression is truly a brain disorder is a patient's reported during DBS surgery that she experienced a sudden and profound melancholia in the absence of any other change except the stimulation of a certain part of her brain.
The world instantly turned dark and hopeless.  She described in detail her mental experience for the few moments it lasted.  Then the surgeon moved or turned off the device, and as suddenly as it had come on, it was completely gone.  She exclaimed in puzzlement on how her emotions could have taken this veer without her, first toward despair and then to a baseline of normalcy.

 In the article, the authors also were puzzled, and thought "if it can be turned on, perhaps it can be turned off."  Preliminaries support that.  Patient Edi Guyton found relief from her suicidal depression after forty years of medications, electroshock and talk therapy via electrodes implanted in "area 25" of her brain.  Her surgical team, headed by researcher and neurologist Helen Mayfield, knew they'd hit the sweet spot when she spontaneously smiled, and then chuckled, for the first time in years.  Like many persons with mood disorders, she blamed herself for not being able to snap out of it:  "After all, what did I have to be depressed about?"  She tried to fake her way through life, but was miserable, and when the opportunity arose to volunteer for this experimental procedure, she felt she had nothing at all to lose, even when faced with a consent form that listed "Death" as a possible outcome.

She hasn't looked back.  She still has the normal ups and downs of the average person, but no longer the paralyzing depressions that made death itself look like the best option.  She is profoundly grateful to Dr. Mayfield's research, which Mayfield herself admits is very early on in its understanding.

While now seen as a standard treatment for reducing symptoms of Parkinson's, DBS is only now gaining respect for outcomes in treating intractable and interfering Obsessive Compulsive Behavior, and Mayfield's work is still in the very early stages of experimentation.  I applaud the dedication and bravery of the team and even more of the volunteers who risk God-knows-what in hopes of escaping the hell that is major depressive disorder.  Their willingness to put their lives on the line is evidence of the debilitation they suffer.  To my knowledge there are no local or instate providers exploring this treatment.  But the early results are promising, and I hope we will be hearing more about this work.

Related articles about depression:
The incredible Heaviness of Being
Understanding and Dealing with Depression
Fading the Blue Gene:  Cognitive-Behavioral Approaches to Treating Depression
More Bytes on the Black Dog

Loving Your (World-Wide) Neighbors

Photo by Nazar Iqbal, Pakistan

A perk to living in a university town: for entertainment on a Friday night, you can go see a Nobel Peace Prize laureate.  Each year Oregon State University hosts an amazing gathering of young people for a weekend of inspiration, headed by a winner of the award.  "The mission of the PeaceJam Foundation is to create young leaders committed to positive change in themselves, their communities and the world through the inspiration of Nobel Peace Laureates who pass on the spirit, skills, and wisdom they embody."   

Cork, Ireland courtesy James Clancy

This year's speaker was Argentine artist and activist Adolfo Perez Esquivel.  Born into poverty, he relinquished his teaching career in 1977 to focus his energy on nonviolent resistance through El Sevicio de Paz y Justicia foundation.  He was imprisoned a year later.  Despite his harsh treatment, he continues to espouse the importance of peaceful community activism as a response to oppression and injustice.  

Here are remarks from his speech tonight (paraphrased, abbreviated and collected, not verbatim):

Artist Yoshiko Yoshida, Japan

"Peace is often confused with passivity, but there is nothing more contrary to the notion of peace than being passive.  There is conflict in our world, and we all live in the world.  It is, in a sense, conflict in our living room.  How do we build peace? When we face conflict, we have to resolve it.  We have to resolve the obstacles to peace in ourselves, our families, and our community.

Berlin Wall, photo by Anit Zrab, Germany

Just as a wall was built in Berlin that separated Germans from other Germans, we  see that there are walls in our world that divide us.  Israel from Palestine, Mexico from the US, North and South Korea.  We could go on and on naming the walls that divide people from themselves.  

But the most important walls we have to tear down are those within ourselves, within our own hearts and minds.  If we are unable to tear these down, we cannot build peace.

There's no reason to avoid conflict-- that won't build peace.  We have to resolve it, to open channels of dialogue even with those who are opposed
to us, and seek out and support dialogue in our own communities and those abroad.  

painting by Jón Bjarti, Iceland

We have many examples of people who faced this head on.  Martin Luther King, Caesar Chavez.  They were repressed, violently.  And they persevered against oppression in a nonviolent way.  They took concrete action.  In Latin America, in Argentina, we took this same sort of action in the face of repression.  But what is happening now?  

Profound changes are taking place in the world.  Often we don't see them, but we are acting in the face of them.  (paraphrased heavily:  Take the concept of time).  There is an earthquake in Indonesia, and two seconds later we are immersed in a sports match.  We have been subjected to that accelerated mode, that (concept of) mechanical time.  And we don't think we have time to process, to reflect.  This impacts our behavior-- in our family, community and throughout the world.

Raija Silvennoinen, Finland

 
Peace is a dynamic of relations among people.  It has to be built.  Nobody can offer something they themselves do not have.  If we are not at peace with ourselves, if we do not have an internal peace, do not have peace with those with whom we live, we cannot hope to build peace with others.   

by photographer Ahmad Nasirpour, Iran

We have to build a CULTURAL resistance, to develop critical consciousness (critical thinking), to encourage and teach values of caring for each other and for our planet.  (We have to ask the tough questions, such as) why it is a country (United States) can spend  $2.5 billion on a single bomber plane, yet says it cannot afford to care for its own sick and hungry.  In a world in which 35,000 children die each day from hunger, we need to separate the reality from what we have been told is true-- and not accept as normal what is fiction and can change."

 photo mosaic, artist Wolfe Nkole Helzle

Esquivel ended his remarks with a call for conscious action in increasing peace and resisting injustice through personal reflection and change, and nonviolent social movements.  Even in the face of imprisonment, he has kept his feeling of hope about our possibilities to achieve these changes.  He cited numerous groups doing just this throughout the world. 


In the past few weeks, I have been privileged to be part of a global community art project.  Led by German artist Wolf Nkole Helzle, artists and regular folk like me from all over the world have been submitting daily photos from their corner of the world's living room.  This Spring, I have "met" persons from Pakistan, Finland, Iran, Japan, Turkey, Greece, Brazil, Indonesia-- to name just a few.  I have seen pictures of their daily lives, and suddenly the world seems much smaller, and my desire to make it safe for all of us has grown in return.  


We're all in this together, brothers and sisters.  Let's do our part to make it work.
Jana

Note:  the illustrations for this article come from my new friends around the globe.  Thanks, Wolf, for bringing them into my life.

Want to be part of a global community of photo-diarists?  Check out Wolf's project and sign up at  www.interactive-image.org

RIP Mike Wallace, Newsman and Depression Survivior

American lost a hero this week.  News icon Mike Wallace passed away at 93 years of age, after a long and amazing life.  He was a voice of reason and intelligence for generations.

He was also a very brave man.  In 1984, he experienced a life-threatening depression.  He and his wife sought help, but were soundly discouraged.  His physician told him he was a tough guy and didn't need it.  Others were adamant that seeking it would end his career.  He had examples of the latter-- he was a witness to McGovern running mate Thomas Eagleton's rejection from political life when Eagleton's own history of seeking counseling was revealed.  Mike gave up.  He wrote a letter indicating how his assets should be distributed, swallowed what he hoped would be a lethal amount of sleeping pills, and laid down to die.

If his wife hadn't found him, his death would have come 28 years sooner.  Before he had time to tell the world that depression happens, even to the wise, the lauded, the strong.  Recovery took a while-- therapy, three medications to find one that worked, lots of therapy.  In 2009,  he told the world about his journey out of the darkness.

Depression can be a lethal illness.  Politicians, housewives, children-- no one is immune.  Mike Wallace inspired many others to speak out and seek help in addressing this devastating disorder, in hopes that his example would help decrease the stigma many associate with it.  Among his many lifetime accomplishments, this was perhaps his bravest.

You can watch Mr. Wallace talking about his depression and his recovery by clicking here.

More on depression: 
http://www.janasvoboda.org/search/label/depression

For Shame

Had a pleasant though mostly incoherent chat tonight with a homeless guy in front of the post office.  I was apparently looking pretty ragged myself, because when I said I thought I had a dollar, he said "That's ok, sister, just talk to me a little."  But I did have a dollar, one of those shiny new gold ones.   I'd found it when cleaning my office just before coming to the PO, and stuck it in my pocket.  I pressed it into his hand, and he said "That's ok, you can keep it if you need it," but I didn't.  Neither of us was exactly sure it was a real dollar or who was on it.  He remembered the Sacajawea ones; said "I get her, I know things about her.  I'm full blood (tribe withheld) myself."  He kept searching my face.  He seemed uncomfortably sober.  "I'm a sun dancer.  I don't go to the dances.  My tribe, it's hard for some of us, so I don't go now.  But I am a Sun Dancer."  "So you're a dancer who doesn't dance?"  He gave me a look, and said "You know how it is."  "It's never too late to go back, is it?", I asked, and got the same look, amplified, along with "Don't even start, sister, don't start."

"OK, I'll shut up now," I told him, and turned to leave.  He stopped me with a "Listen, sister."  He was quiet a minute.  He looked so vulnerable. He waited until I was looking him full on.   "Sister, I love you."  "I love you too, brother", I told him, and went on my way.

My heart felt heavy and lightened by our brief conversation.  Heavy because of the shame which blanketed him, and me some too for first thinking maybe I should turn the corner and just stick the envelope in the outside box.  Lightened because of our shared vulnerability in risking a real conversation, even if one of us was hungover from drugs, alcohol or just being a dancer who's kicked out of the dance and the other of us hungover from a long rainy winter of losses.  I didn't mind that he told me he loved me, and it felt fine to tell him back, even though if we'd known each other "better" we might not like each other all that much.  When he said that , I felt the part that was true for him as a suffering human, both broken and whole, talking to the part that was true in me and not all that much different.  The devil's in the details, right?  And the details of the moment were blessedly absent; just two people in a big old rattling world, connecting for a moment and then on our way.  I think we felt seen.  I think it felt good, for both of us.

Researcher and author Brene' Brown has a new TED talk on shame and vulnerability, those human unifying conditions.  If you've not seen her original TED talk, listen to it first at this link:
 http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html
She's got some powerful things to say about how we can get out of our own way when connecting in the world.  Her new talk focuses on the shame aspect, and how it literally dis-courages us from being innovative, creative and making needed changes. 

Watch it here (if it's working), or at the link.  There's important wisdom here, and work for us.

brene_brown_listening_to_shame.html












1)  Vulnerability is not weakness  (emotional risk, exposure and uncertainty-- our most accurate measure of couarge.  To be seen, to be honest.  Vulnerabilty is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change)


2)

Hearts Stopped by Fear: With Sadness for Trayvon

I don't even know how to begin this one.  

Two Sundays running, I have had heartbreaking conversations with two friends, both women who raise(d) and love their African American boys.  Their sadness about Trayvon was not universal.  It was personal.  It was about living with the knowledge that a son's mortality risk is raised just by the darkness of his skin.

I have a son.  I know something about the worry I had when he was out late.  It did not include a worry about him being harassed by police or "neighborhood watchmen". I did not have to explain to him that some people might lock their car doors if he drove up next to them at a stop light, or follow him in a store, or hold a wallet or purse tighter just because he walked by.

I watched one of these women in tears and anger today say "It's as if we have made no progress in all these years".

And there is truth to this.  Author and speaker Tim Wise addresses the statistics in a recent essay.  A portion is reprinted below; click the title to read the rest of the article.

How do we as a community begin to change this?  First, by acknowledging racism exists, in our country and in our own (sometimes sub) consciousness.  We can't resist what we refuse to see.   Educating ourselves about the effects is a start.  Calling it out when we see it is another. 

The national outrage over the shooting of an unarmed boy by a grown man who followed him, chased him down after deciding based on the color of his skin-- that is justified outrage.  While his killer will have his day in court-- if, indeed, he is ever arrested-- Trayvon will not even get a hour in adulthood.

We cannot save Trayvon Martin.  I hope we can begin to save our country, our communities.  In the past few weeks I have been blessed with the opportunity to begin to know dozens of "others" through a world-wide community photo project .  There are Muslims, Christians, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists and the unchurched.  Artists from Germany, Findland, India, Korea, Iran and Serbia, to name a few, post a picture from their day.  That project has done more to shrink my world in three weeks than I could possibly imagine.  I get to know these "foreigners" a little and suddenly, they are not the Other.   These are my brothers and sisters.  I wish them love, freedom from fear, enough for their needs.  Empathy is the answer to fear, but there can't be empathy without resonance.  And for that, we have to get closer to the Other.

I read a story on the website of one of the project participants.  It was written by author Paulo Coehlo.
A master asked his disciples:
‘Why do we shout in anger? Why do people shout at each other when they are upset?’
the disciples thought for a while, and one of them said
‘Because we lose our calm, we shout for that.’
‘But, why to shout when the other person is just next to you? ‘Isn’t it possible to speak to him or her with a soft voice? Why do you shout at a person when you’re angry?’
The disciples gave him some other answers but none satisfied the master.
Finally he explained:
‘When two people are angry at each other, their hearts distance a lot. To cover that distance they must shout to be able to hear each other. The angrier they are, the stronger they will have to shout to hear each other through that great distance.’
Then the master asked:
‘What happens when two people fall in love? They don’t shout at each other but talk softly, why? Because their hearts are very close. The distance between them is very small…’

Let's start a conversation.  If you live in the Willamette Valley and would like to be a part of it, e me for details.  We will meet this week to think of how to shorten the distance between our hearts. 

Jana

Resources
Elizabeth Lesser inspires us to Take The Other to Lunch





...and here's that except from Tim Wise's essay.

"What is Post-Racial?  Reflections on Denial and Reality."
To believe that the United States is post-racial requires an almost incomprehensible inability or unwillingness to stare truth in the face.
How can we be post-racial, after all, when the typical white family has 20 times the net worth of the typical black family, and 18 times that of the typical Latino family?
How can we be post-racial when studies find that even white men with criminal records are more likely to be called back for job interviews than black men without them, even when all other credentials and personal characteristics are indistinguishable?
How can we be post-racial when evidence suggests that the lightest-skinned immigrants earn roughly 17% more than the darkest-skinned immigrants, even when qualifications and levels of productivity are the same?
How can we be post-racial when Asian Americans, Latinos and blacks with college degrees are anywhere from one-third more likely to nearly twice as likely to be unemployed as their white counterparts? When schools serving mostly students of color are more than ten times as likely to be places of concentrated poverty, and far more likely to have the least experienced teachers?

Using Others' Eyes to See

Ansel, about 14

Today's quotes: “A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for.”  --William Shedd

“Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.”  --Anais Nin

This week marked the sixth year since Ansel Reed (poet, reader, social rights activist, hiker) left his too short life on this planet.  He'd only gotten 20 years in.  Born with a rare immune deficiency, he'd had more medical interventions than most octogenarians see in a lifetime.  He packed a lot of adventure into his days.  Sadly, there were many he just didn't have time to get to before his liver failed while he waited for a donor.

I think of Ansel at least once or twice a week.  When I hear poetry recited, I remember the time, not long before he left us, that I visited him in New York as he waited for that liver we all promised was coming.  He'd be feeling cold, or poorly, and would ask me to rub his back.  While I did he would sing to me-- hymns, usually; or recite wonderful odes--Keats, Yeats, Dylan Thomas and Shakespeare.  He had an amazing memory.  He knew his time was short and By God He Was Going To Pay Good Attention.  His eye for detail was astounding, and he had stories to tell. 

When I told him I was coming for a visit and asked what he needed, he said : "Kelp.  Seaweed.   I want to bathe in it and pretend I am in the ocean."  Thanks to a very kind co-op worker I was out the door and on that plane smelling just a bit fishy.  He also requested and received Japanese rice crackers, and he wanted baking soda, coffee filters and a blender, for various Grande Schemes he was craftsying up.   He spent a hundred days at a NY apartment, fighting off bugs when there were livers ready, and trying to be hopeful when he was healthy but there were no livers to be found.  Sadly those two worlds would not collide, and after a time, he called it a day. He seemed much more at peace with it than we were.

I still vacillate between my own peace in knowing he found his, and fury he isn't here to keep stirring up the creativity pot.  What can be done?  We have to accept that he's really gone from this physical life on this place.  We don't have to like it.  But that don't change the facts, Ma'am.

So what to do?  I look for him in others, sometimes-- if I see a particularly high spirited sweet joke-cracking 6 year old, or hear of someone undertaking a physical challenge when they already have one (mountain climbing blind, skiing with Parkinson's, that sort of thing).  Ansel never seemed to let his health stop him, whether he was running a marathon or fighting for social justice.   When I see that spirit in others, his own spirit is very present to me. 

And I use his eyes to view the world.  I see something beautiful and think, "Ansel would have liked that."  Knowing him changed me some, and changed what I see in the world.  He gave me a bit of his vision.

That's one way others live in us.  They give us new eyes and perspectives.  And we honor their short visits when we notice what they might have noticed.  It's not enough, but it's a lot.

Jana

Smells Like Baby Spirit

Thoughts that keep an info junkie up at night:

I read a very short article today in Utne reader about the positive health implications of our genetic ancestry being mixed with a little Neanderthal.  Researchers  reported a couple of years ago that due to a little inter-species hanky-panky way back in the day, lots of humans carry some Neanderthal DNA-- 1-4% of Asians and Europeans.  Late last year, new research supported a finding that there's a good evolutionary benefit to this mixing:  a strengthened immune system through the contribution of different human leukocyte antigens (HLA).  That's something dog owners have known for years.  Mutts are healthier than those inbreed pedigrees.  My gorgeous lab, for example, missed out on the hip malformations common to her breed, but did get the eyelid defects that led to her blindness in late life (despite two corrective surgeries).

The article went on to state that immune gene mixing, critical to species survival, shows up in our mate selection.   Says Stanford, "people are attracted to the scents of prospective sexual partners with disparate HLA types."  That's another bit we've known for a while (as mentioned in an earlier post, "You May Sniff The Bride").  But it got me wondering.  If we consider that this scent attraction is a positive indication of procreative success, does that mean that persons with more similar HLA are more prone to miscarriage?  A quick Google and Pub Med search confirmed that I'm not the only one curious about that.  The research would indicate it's true-- and that it will make IVF more difficult as well.

I wonder what this means for people with anosmia.  Are they more likely to mate unsuccessfully, at least from a procreative standpoint?  It does suggest strongly that marrying outside of your genetic lottery is sensible.  Here's to the mixing of the pool!

Zebra Hunting: Medical Mysteries and When It's Not All in Your Head

name this disease:

Fair warning:  Hypochondriacs should skip this post.

If you live in the valley and are fascinated by medical detective stories, you're in luck this week.  Dr. Lisa Sanders, author of the NYTime's "Diagnosis" column, is speaking as part of the OSU's Program in Medical Humanities lecture series on Tuesday, March 13th, 7:00 p.m. at the LaSell Stewart Center.  Her column inspired the popular TV series "House"; Sanders continues as its medical consultant.  She'll be selling and signing her new book at a reception prior to the lecture.  You can hear an interview with Dr. Sanders and see snippets from her book on NPR at this link:  http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111844063

Later this week, I'll be lecturing (in a very loose sense of the word, and without the crowd or book signing) on differential diagnosis at my therapist's continuing education group.  Although most of us aren't doctors, it's important that mental health clinicians have at least a rudimentary understanding of the many diseases and conditions that can present "psychiatrically".   I use the distancing quotes for emphasis.  It's a strange notion to me that so many want to separate disorders of the mind from those of the body.  Where, exactly, do these people think the mind is located?  The brain is an organ.  All organs can have imbalances or diseases.  Furthermore, the problems that affect what we experience as the mind-- eg, those that cause anxiety and depression-- can originate in many other areas of the body.  For example, persons with mitral valve prolapse (a common and usually benign heart condition in which a heart valve does not close properly) may have palpitations and shortness of breath misdiagnosed as panic attacks.   Thyroid irregularities can present as either depression or anxiety, depending on whether there is too little or too much of the related hormones circulating in the system.  Starting (or abruptly stopping) some medications can cause problems in thinking, memory, sleep and certainly in mood.

For many years stomach ulcers were thought of as a psychosomatic illness, caused by the mismanagement of stress.  No one thought bacteria could live in the highly acidic environment of the stomach.  It wasn't until 1982 that two Australian doctors made the connection of between stomach distress and high colony numbers of the heliobacter pylori strain.  Epilepsy is another disorder with a roller-coaster history of (mis)understanding.  Although Hippocrates (400 BC) saw it as a physical ailment, it was considered a sign of demon possession in the New Testament Bible, and a positive symptom of being a witch during the persecutions in the 15th century.  The classic tonic-clonic seizures (also known as "grand mal"--major electrical storms in the brain) were the first to be recognized as clearly organic in origin, though those suffering were still seen as in the grips of a mental illness for at least half of the 20th century.  More subtle electrical brainstorms can cause such varying symptoms as hypersexuality, religious preoccupation, olfactory hallucinations and more.  

Manic, or just immature?

And that lousy memory of yours.  Is it early onset Alzheimer's?  A brain tumor?  That allergy medicine you take year round in our sweet little Valley Of Runny Noses?  Or your Ambien, menopause, seasonal affective depression?  Maybe it's something rarer and more sinister--  that parasite you picked up rafting down the Amazon, or those infiltrating prions from Uncle Bubba's tasty breakfast offering of scrambled squirrel brains.  Even as I type perhaps holes are popping up like yeast bubbles in your gray matter.  But probably not.  Really.  The fact that you can't remember is more likely one of two factors:  those constant electronic interruptions (and training from all that manic transitioning in those Sesame Street shows you weaned on) has whittled your attention span down to the tensile strength of a wet strip of cheap paper napkin, or you are just too tired and/or preoccupied with you busy-ness to be present and attending to the Here and Now. 
Yes, there are lots of possibilities.  But a diagnosis over-stimulation and lack of rest will pretty much trump the likelihood of Mad Cow (or squirrel, for that matter) Disease.  It's not likely you'll be featured on the next episode of "House."

I'm not a doctor, and can't give you medical advice or treatment.  But if you come to see me with complaints of forgetfulness, anxiety, depression and fatigue, I'm going to be using all my senses to help you figure out what's going on.  I'll notice your gait and movements (slowed ones can mean depression, or early symptoms of Parkinson's).  I'll pay attention to the rate and fluency of your speech, and the clarity of your thinking.  Back before my anosmia, I would have noticed distinct smells, if you had them-- too much perfume might mean you're covering up your substance abuse habits, or that you too have lost your sense of smell.  I'll  be asking you when you last saw a doc and what she said; what meds you are on, and what for, whether you have a  history of traumatic injury (especially the old noggin'), how you are sleeping, your drug and alcohol and other significant medical history.  I'll want to know if you see or hear things others don't-- sure, it could be schizophrenia or another serious psychotic disorder, or it could be a detaching cornea, a migraine aura (shimmering changes in the visual field), your carotid artery pulsing loudly in your ear (ear wax blockage?  something more important?).  I'll wonder if your symptoms came on suddenly, and if you had any illnesses or trauma preceding the problem, and if you've felt that way before.  I'll want to know your theory about what is happening to you.

Not Mad, just Cranky

I may also ask you what you eat and how often.  Fluctuating blood sugars can wreak havoc on mood, making you flaky and cranky and shaky.  If you're actually diabetic, that requires vigorous changes in diet and lifestyle because you're going to want those feet, those eyes and that heart later in your life.

If you're female, I may ask about your menstrual history.   Perimenopause (the years leading up to cessation of the cycle) can trigger severe PMS-like symptoms of irritability, anxiety and weepiness for some women.  Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder can look like Bipolar, with mood swings so severe that some women with it are suicidal several days a month.  While CBT is helpful, sometimes hormonal or other medication therapy is needed.

If you have pre-existing conditions-- diabetes, hormone issues, head injuries, autoimmune disorders-- I will want to know about those too.  Their effects may be causing your mood issues; certainly their stresses will be a factor.  Are you following the medical treatment prescribed?  Many people fail to connect the dots between their poor physical health management and the brain fog, anxiety or other issues that can result.  And as noted, sometimes it is the medication itself that's causing the problem.  For example, steroids can cause mania (and occasionally psychosis).  It's not typical, but it happens. 


Brain tumors and other serious illnesses are the Zebras in our herds of horses at the counseling office.  They happen, and they typically don't get found out until they've started making a ruckus.  Chances of accurate and early diagnosis seem very dependent on who you see, how clearly you can present your symptoms and their progression , and what sort of bureaucracy you run into trying to get adequate testing.  These tests are expensive, and it's hard to convince a strapped system to check out a herd of horses because there may be one very horsey-looking zebra hiding there.  It can help to get back up history from others who have observed and been concerned about the changes in your behavior or pain.  Bring them with you as a second pair of eyes and ears and an advocate if you are really concerned and don't feel you are being heard.  Be nice to the doc, though. Advocacy does not need to be rude.  Listen hard.  You may hear things you don't like or understand,.  Have your questions at the ready but be prepared to accept they may not all get answered.  Get second opinions if your insurance will provide that and you feel uncertain or dismissed.

Many years ago in SE Texas I had a patient who was very country, not very educated but quite organized in her life and thinking.  She seemed perfectly fine except she had an obsession that invisible bugs were crawling on her arm.  She couldn't stop itching.  Her arms were covered with bloody scratches.  She was driving her family crazy trying to get them to see her tormentors with magnifying glasses. She developed lots of obsessive-compulsive symptoms trying to treat the infestation.  But there were no bugs.  I sent her for a physical, telling the doctor things weren't adding up. There was a lesion in her brain; sure enough, when it was resolved the "bugs" disappeared. 

Another woman I saw with fatigue, weight gain, high blood pressure and a long onset depression found relief after she was finally diagnosed with Cushings and treated for her metabolic issue.  The weeks of talk therapy I provided didn't do much at all, though we both enjoyed it.  It was the strange distribution of weight, and facial hair, that clued me to refer her.

Years before that, also in Texas, a man with no previous violent history (family man, former eagle scout) killed his wife, then climbed a tower at the University in Austin and killed several strangers. In his diary, Charles Whitman spoke of having spent two hours with a doctor trying to explain his sudden and overwhelming violent impulses.  It apparently didn't go well, and he never went back.  Writing again, he requested that doctors examine his brain after his death.  He had been convinced for some time that it was changing and these violent impulses were outside of his control.  He was right.  A glioblastoma (tumor) had insinuated itself into his thalamus, hypothalamus and amygdala, hijacking his previous personality. 

The Case of the Collapsed Kelp:  Not drunk, just dehydrated and sun-stroked

The thing is, these are exceptions.  There is so much overlap in cause and disease, and the same symptom of a rushing sound in your ear that could be an aneurysm forming is much more likely to be some flake of ear wax floating around. Neither I nor any other clinician, including your doctor, is going to be hunting for Zebras when it's looking so horse-y out there.  Don't blame us if we forget to ask you something you are worried about' let us know what you are worrying about.   Listen to what we know, and to what we don't.  We will refer you for care if we have suspicions that your chronic fatigue, aches, rapid heart beats or what have you need a doc or a test.  We don't practice medicine.  But we should know enough to point you in the right direction if our expertise and intuition suggest the need for medical consultation.

A lot of these bothersome symptoms will disappear as quickly as they came.  It's tricky to know when to pay attention and when to stop obsessing.  Eye tics, annoying and random but nearly always completely benign, are a good example.  It's POSSIBLE that it's the start of Bell's Palsy, a bran tumor, or hey, demon possession (I don't claim to cover all bases here).  But most likely it's a temporary and meaningless glitch, and it will disappear when you stop attending to it.

If you have a health concern and your doc says "Maybe you should see a therapist", it's not because he or she thinks you're crazy.  It's that the interface between mind and body works both ways, and there are things you may be able to do to heal that are more effective than taking a pill.  Stress-related illnesses are still illnesses, but they can resolve when we get more sleep, nature, sun, exercise and balance and learn to change the panicky way we interpret signals from our body. 


To be continued...and in the meantime, let us reflect on the words inscribed of the guide of famous interplanetary hitchhiker Arthur Dent:  DON'T PANIC!

Creating Community: Maker's Space

getting the art on

Imagine a group of people with little in common except a desire to be together and be creative.  Add some free vegan cupcakes, art supplies and cheap drinks and you have Maker's Space:  "Culture as adventure, and we're all Indiana Jones".

i ain't scared of art

Under the encouraging eyes of Corvallis's new Art Center director David Huff and Drawing Board art supply shop owner Mike Wiener, a few dozen locals quaffed and created small works that were promptly displayed on clip hangers in the window of the Majestic Theater.  Curator Josie Zarkovich wasn't on hand for the evening's festivities, but her energy was evident.  There is now something way more compelling than reality TV on the first Tuesday of every month. No pressure and lots of friendly folks in sweet surroundings-- it can't be easier to get artsy.

If you're local, join in on supporting the invigoration of Corvallis creativity and community.  Show up and art on with us at the next Drink and Draw April  3rd. And think about throwing some money into two great organizations that support what heals us:  the local Arts Center, and what promises to be a better than ever venue for music and the arts, our own very Majestic Theater.

a couple of the night's creations

While you're spending,  support a new local business.  Mike Wiener's Drawing Board has recently expanded from a 10X10 foot kiosk at the Starbucks plaza into a new storefront at the same location.  Here six months from Palm Desert, CA, Mike grew up at his parent's art supply store there.  A victim of a poor economy, it closed after 21 years and he relocated here, but was sad to see there was no similar place for good supplies.  He's ready for business, and since he pays for shipping and buys wholesale, you can get your art on for the same or less than from some anonymous mail order place.  He's the guy who provided the free supplies for a great night of local fun. Let's keep him in business.

The Curious Life of the Nerd

Do you have the enthusiastic curiosity of a child, filtered through an eclectic collective of knowledge?  Lucky you.

I found this poster on a Facebook page.  Wish I knew to whom I could attribute the image (and if you do, tell me) because I do so appreciate the sentiment. 

Here's to all of us unafraid to show love for our interests, who are unabashed in our passions and without apology for our obsessions.  I appreciate this particular human variation, and the variation of interests supported.  Being of limited lifespan, if we want to go wide we're not going to be able to go too deep.  For all  of those of you that do, I offer deep gratitude.  I may not be able to do or be all I want in this lifetime, but thanks to Geeks everywhere I can learn a little about a lot. 

Tonight on Krista Tippetts' On Being, I learned a few things about physics, thanks to string theorist James Gates.  At 61, he says he is having more fun than ever exploring math and science.  In the local Gazette Times, I read about OSU neuroscientist Sarina Saturn, who is providing evidence for what I have long suspected:  that variations in oxytocin levels influence individual's emotional states and levels of altruism and empathic ability.  And Kathleen McAulifee told me how my cat might just be making me crazy (via parasites) in her frightening but fascinating article in this month's Atlantic article. 

Thanks to you nerdy obsessives, I can now identify maybe thirty of the world's 75,000+ species of mushrooms, including three or four I enjoy eating and a dozen or so that would kill me.  I know a little about why certain music makes me anxious (see Radio Lab's Sound As Touch episode) and Why Penguins' Feet Don't Freeze (thanks, Mick O'Hare and readers of New Scientist).

I've been obsessed with information and learning since I was a kid.   I hungrily read the encyclopedia my parents were suckered into buying from a door-to-door salesman, as well as my mother's nursing books (ask me anything about elephantiasis-- that picture of the man with his testicles in a wheelbarrow is burned into my brain).  I may have missed learning how to do my hair and makeup, but I have a lifelong curiosity about the world  I'd never trade for a day on the Best Dressed.

So thank you, Nerds.  I only hope I am worthy of your title.

Off to read,
Jana

3 Joys for Balance

Did you see the evening sky this past week?  Venus and Jupiter lining up with the low-slung crescent moon in the Western sky--  "God's fingernail" moon, I heard it called when I was little, and I think of that phrase every time I see it.  Following the line of the conjunction with a sweep up and slightly south, Orion showed off the bling of his belt. Oregonians had a rare treat of clear views most nights.  The conjunction's over now, and the rains are back.  We have to catch the sweetness when it presents itself.

Speaking of sweet presents:   I enjoyed a fabulous if sleepless weekend in Bellevue, WA at the Wintergrass festival.  Musicians from all over the US joined Sweden's Vasen, Japan's Bluegrass 45, and Druha' Trava from the Czech Republic in a daze of days of jamming, concerts and workshops.  Supergroup Darol Anger, Rushad Eggleston and Bruce Molskey brought the best kind of shock and awe, making way more music than one could believe thirty fingers were capable.  There were hour-long cello jams in elevators, all night fiddle sessions, and strange sorts of pickin'-- bluegrass, chambergrass, ravegrass, coregrass and jazz improv.  Sweetest to me were the young people, who led country dances and sat rapt on the stage front floor at every concert.  They were also some of the most talented of the players, among them young teen Mila Phelps-Friedl, who chopped out an amazing vocal and cello version of Michael Jackson's Thriller to a packed house.  If these folks are our future, we can all relax.  They are a healthy, connected and bright bunch.

Another highlight of the last few days was (virtually) meeting Japanese artist Yoshiko Yoshido.

Yoshiko Yoshida in motion:  from the artist's webpage

Her current projects are dedicated to bringing honor and remembrance to the victims of the recent tsunami.  Her energy and devotion to community is a beautiful thing to witness.

This post is a contrast, isn't it, to the last one.  And that's life for you-- beautiful and sad, those 10,000 joys and sorrows the Buddha said we all get in this life.  We don't have to look too hard for the sorrows.  It's important we keep our eyes and heart open for the beauty.  There sure is a lot of it out there.

We'll close with a little lesson in chopping, from Darol Anger's String Groove series (here accompanied by cellist Rushad). Give yourself a treat and buy some of their fine music!

Dead Air: Anosmiac Errata

graphic by Sister Anosmiac Jessebelle Lemonade

Today, February 23rd, is National Anosmia Awareness Day.  

A year ago, I'd never heard of anosmia, the clinical term for lack of a sense of smell.  I wish that were still true. In June following a virus and knock on the block, I became a textbook case.  Previous blogs talked some about the disorder and its impact:
life-of-non-scents-anosmia.html
The Less Nosy Life
A poet, a hunger, and life goes on

I never imagined how the loss of this sense would affect my life.  That helps (some) with being patient with how difficult it is for others to understand the profound and entangled grief, the daily complications.  I don't know if an Awareness Day will help you walk a mile in my shoes, or care how they fit, but maybe you'll get a block or two in.

This Schnoz-- it was made for smellin'!

Here's a few things I've missed this year:

The smell of the seasons-- wet pine in rainy fall, a campfire, Christmas. The briny ocean breeze.  The sharp, sulphur scent of the 4th of July.  Now, the beginnings of Spring with daphne beginning to blossom.  

My family as I hugged them, especially those that live far away and I see so rarely.  My father's cologne on his clothes, after he died.

Every day scents and the memories they evoke:  the dust of books, the sharp of cheese, the incense of wine.  My sweethearts' pillow.  So many, too many pleasures now gone.

And the biggie: Food.   FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD!

I am reminded of this loss a minimum of three times a day.  Food is the centerpiece of  nearly every celebration, most socializing, each holiday.  And I either can't taste it, or it tastes bad.  I loved food, such that I was getting  significantly "fluffy" the last few years.  I have dozens of cookbooks I used to read just for fun; I loved the farmer's market, new restaraunts, reading and talking about food.  And I miss it so, so much.

I learned a few years ago to eat slow and to take real pleasure from tastes. It helped me lose 25 pounds in my first ever attempt at weight loss.  No diet, just appreciating what I ate and where it came from and being mindful.  I put some back on due mostly to a job that requires me to sit (as still as a fidgety person can) in a chair all day, and in misguided self-comforting after some losses a couple years ago.  But I kept the habit of truly enjoying what I ate.

In the first few weeks of losing my sense of smell I lost 10 pounds, because nothing tasted.  I changed my habits to enjoying texture and stopped losing.

Then in the fall, I developed parosmia (distorted smell).  My brain tried to rewire, and amplified or distorted the apparently one molecule I could taste.   Suddenly, anything that smelled, smelled the same-- and horrifying.  Like burned hair dipped in toxic waste.  I became food adverse and lost 25 pounds in short order.  I was afraid to go to friend's homes because they might offer or be cooking something that would literally make me sick.  Most restaurants were out too.  I ate apples and almonds only for weeks and weeks, because they were, if not good, at least predictable and unoffensive.

I'm still not skinny.  But please don't tell me how much you wish you could have this disorder so you could lose weight.  I would trade my new sizes-smaller jeans in a heartbeat to be able to eat and enjoy a cookie, or even just a regular meal.  Most work days I 'm still on apples and almonds.   For dinner, if someone cooks, I'll eat it-- but don't ask me what I want to eat, as it mostly doesn't matter.  I have learned that I can eat food that doesn't taste good at all to me.  I don't like it, but I can eat it. 

There are some foods that just send me through the roof.  Chocolate, butter, nuts that have been roasted, celery and cilantro.  The smells alone will nauseate me and ruin my appetite.  Oh, for the pleasure of fresh baked bread dripping with butter-- but although I remember the pleasure of it, I can no longer remember the smell, and what occurs when I smell melted butter is nothing close to good.

Memories are another thing slip-sliding away.  The olfactory system links straight in to the limbic one, that part of our brain so responsible for emotion and memory.  You know this, if you can smell--  one hit of cinnamon and you may be back at Grandma's; hot asphalt may spin you to summers on the midway at the fair.  I used to be able to call up scents and the memory would follow.  But after not smelling lilacs for a couple of seasons, I can no longer recollect them-- or some of the memories that were hard-wired linked to them.

Depression is common with loss of smell.  In some cases that's because of what caused the loss in the first place--  Parkinson's or other degenerative neurological diseases.  But studies show it's prevalent in persons with acquired anosmia.  Whether that's biological or psychological is up for grabs.  But I felt it, and talked to many other anosmiacs who were there too.  Anxiety is pretty common as well.  I've left the gas burner on, burned food, hugged someone AS they were smoking a cigarette I didn't see.  I don't know if I smell bad-- if I had a rotten tooth, would I know it?  Is it time to wash that sweater?  As a former super-smeller, that just didn't happen before.


And because the few things I can detect smell EXACTLY the same, I don't know what's happening when I walk out of my office late at night and am assaulted by fumes that smell of burnt caramel toxic waste.  Is the building's burning down, a cigarette-smoking transient in the hallway, or is it just that someone sprayed the Glade in the bathroom?  Maybe it's someone baking brownies in the basement apartment.  This is disconcerting.

There are daily inconveniences, especially for the preoccupied/ADHD mind. I can't tell by sniffing if I remembered to put on my deodorant.  I have to have my sweetheart smell the milk to see if it's gone off, or the laundry I forgot in the washer to see if it's soured.  When I cook, I have no idea if it tastes good or needs a little more or less of this or that spice.

I see shades of recovery.  Learning to eat again and overcoming the body's natural opposition to eating things that taste bad was a big one.  My nutrition should be improving and my weight stabilizing now.  The parosmia has mutated--or my brain, through exposure, has calmed down and no longer sees The Smell as a huge threat.  I don't spend most days feeling like I'll throw up.  I can go in restaurants now and tolerate the produce and cleaning products section in the grocery if I dart in and out and take a big breath first.

Please sir, may I have some more?

But there is a big chunk of my life that is gone.  I am really looking forward to getting past the firsts-- the first birthday where I can't enjoy cake, the first Spring where I can't smell the garden.  I let it the garden go last year; this year I will try again and focus on color and shape.  I'm nervous about this weekend, when I'll be seeing my foodie friend Maria at a music festival.  The last time we met, she and two other Italian foodies and I spent hours in restaurants with five course meals, during which we talked about the best meals we'd made or eaten.  It was one of the most pleasurable weekends of my life.  Food is a place we connect, and a way we nurture ourselves and others.  Pounds be damned, I miss that mode of love.

If you smell, take some time today and treasure it.  Read up a little-- the memoir A Season of Taste, documentary of Luca Turin The Emperor of Scent, Corvallis's own Keith Scribner's novel The Oregon Experiment all talk about the richness of smell and the devastation of its loss.

If you know someone who's lost olfaction, don't ask them if they can smell THIS big smell (just like you don't ask blind people if surely they can't see THAT building).  Don't tell them they are making a big deal of it, or that it must be great to not smell farts and poo and garbage.  Don't keep offering them the same food they can't bear if they have parosmia, or tell them you wish you could lose weight like that if they have or tease them if they gain (people without the distortion tend to gain weight, since nothing is satisfying like it used to be).  Don't center all your plans and celebrations with them around food-- take them to a museum, or a play, or a walk. 

And my personal request, just for now, just for while I adjust-- don't rave too much about how great dinner tastes or smells.  Just for a little while longer.  It's salt (smoked chardonny salt, fresh fleur del mar)-- in the wounds.

Thanks for indulging me today.  Take a deep sniff for me, wouldya?
Jana

A few things to consider giving up for Lent

The historic purpose of Lent was to prepare Christians for an important period of religious observation.  Purifying the mind and body through contemplation and self-denial helped teach self-discipline and deepened what we counseling types called "refusal skills"-- the ability to resist temptations that separate us from our highest possible self and/or God.  It is a sacred time for many, but even those who aren't Christian can gain from similar practice.

It's traditional to give up a pleasure during Lent:  sweets, liquor, meat.  May I suggest you consider other sorts of indulgences?
You could practice:
1)   Living without judging others as better or worse that you.  Seeing us all as connected and born with inherent worth and dignity.http://www.firstparishnorwell.org/sermons/inherentworth.html
2)  Refraining from self-deprecation.  Accept compliments.  Be aware of your strengths, and use them.
3)  Going complaint-free.  Make an honest effort to express your gratitude and resist bitching.  http://www.acomplaintfreeworld.org/
4)  Stepping back from looks-oriented culture.  Refrain from commenting on your own or other's physical appearance for a week and instead focus on character, actions, talents.  This tip from Miss Represented Action Alerts:  http://hosted-p0.vresp.com/816967/5bd8540c55/ARCHIVE
5)  Ditch sarcasm.  From the Latin roots for "ripping flesh", this sort of humor can be a way of separating yourself from pain or inflicting it.