The first time I remember somebody asking me what I wanted to 'be' when I grew up, I was at my grandparents' house. I was scribbling away in a composition book that I was determined to turn into a chapter book (with pictures of course) when my grandma asked, and I told her I wanted to be a children's book illustrator. Yeah, my family got a big kick out of that one. Only I would pick such a specific, somewhat obscure career choice at six years old.
I went through a few more stages. Military, lawyer, military lawyer (what? I really loved JAG!), teacher, run my own daycare, own my own baby supply store, and ultimately I even went to college and got a degree in public health, as I liked to put it, "because I want to get paid to play with car seats when I grow up."
In the meanwhile I worked a few different jobs. I worked in daycare - taught preschoolers. I worked for the health department, the only job I ever had that actually fell into my field of study in college. I was a home health aide for a while, and then a nanny. When I quit that last job (which was more stress than it was worth), I remember thinking that I had no idea what I wanted to do next. At that point the only thing I wanted to be was a mom, and that's not exactly the sort of thing you find in the 'help wanted' section. I procrastinated on choosing something, which in the end actually worked out to my benefit.
During and after my time as a nanny, I was going through several evaluations to determine the extent of my psychological needs. I'd been diagnosed with depression since I was 14, but more extensive issues were quickly coming to light. I spent around a month in an intensive outpatient therapy program learning to deal with new diagnoses and coping skills. I'm being completely honest when I say that it's literally the best thing I ever did for myself. But at the same time, suddenly I was able to see how my mental health (or lack thereof, as the case may be) had affected every job I had ever had. I wasn't bad at any of them. I wasn't negligent. But I could have been better.
In those weeks of introspection, I realized that I had been expecting far too much of myself. The thought had never crossed my mind - all I was trying to do was work, hold down a job, which is what everybody does, right? Not too much to expect from myself, especially given my academic record. You grow up, you get a job. It's what you do. It wasn't until my CBT (Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) program that I figured out - all this time I'd been looking for a job, working for a few months and then moving on, I'd already had a job all along, and I hadn't been doing it.
When someone is diagnosed with a serious disease, everyone is quick to assure them that right now, getting better is their job, it's the most important thing. An athlete who suffers a devastating injury goes to physical therapy every day, and that's his job. Nobody would expect a patient of cancer, heart disease, kidney failure, to spend 40 hours a week (or more) wrangling toddlers or filling out needs assessments. It's absurd to think about... imagine your coworker, whoever is in the next cubicle or whatever the case may be, coming into work dragging an IV pole behind him. We'd all say, "Take some time off, take FMLA, you need to focus on getting better right now, that's your job."
So why, then, was I expecting that of myself? How could I, who knew what it was to struggle with mental illness, expect myself and others going through similar trials to just drag our treatment right along with us to work 40 hours a week? How could I expect others like me to work full time jobs while fighting mental illness every single minute of it? I couldn't - I couldn't expect that of others, so I couldn't expect that of myself - and looking back, I saw all the signs that I had been taking on more than I could handle, trying to work a traditional job while I was dealing with so many health issues (be they mental or physical). That was when I had to accept that I was, at least for now, disabled - and as such, my job was to get better.
I took it seriously. I still do. But from the outside I bet it looks like a whole lot of nothing, so today I want to share about my job. It started out similar to most jobs - with someplace to be at 9 am every morning - only the place I had to be was a CBT program, and the work I had to do was on myself. For close to a month I attended that program the way I would have attended school or work, but when it ended, I had to remind myself that I was still doing the job, even though I was now 'working from home'.
There were so many days when I felt useless and broken. There still are. There are days when I realize it's 4:00 pm and I'm still in my pajamas and haven't left the house. There are days when I see family members hard at work sometimes well over 40 hours a week and wonder, what the heck am I doing? I call it "a case of the 'should's". "I should have a normal job." "I should be making money." "I should be doing something with my degree." "I should work as much as my family members." Those are the times I have to remind myself that even though it may not look like it, I'm working as hard as anyone else.
I'm doing my job. I'm getting better - or at least getting through the days. It's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't experienced it themselves (and I wouldn't wish it on anyone), but the amount of work I can do without even getting out of bed is astronomical. Mental illness bombards its victims with constant negativity and distorted thoughts. We wake up thinking "Why even bother getting out of bed?", or "No one cares about me anyways," or "I can't handle life, I should just go back to sleep". We lie there for endless moments searching our consciousness for some shred of evidence to the contrary, something to throw back at those automatic, destructive beliefs. We wake up from terrifying dreams that are all too real and spend hours trying to convince ourselves that we are safe, that this time, it was just a dream. Some days we succeed. Some days we don't.
Every day, that war between such deeply held negative core beliefs, and the healthy ones we are trying to convince ourselves of, rages out of control. Whether I'm lying in bed, volunteering, walking the neighborhood, or cleaning the house, the battle rages, and it drains the energy right out of me no matter what else I'm doing. Some days the bombs are falling so fast that the only thing I can do is take shelter until it's over. Those days, nothing else gets done, but I've still worked all day - just, instead of working on a project or a presentation, I've been working to survive. At the end of the day, if I'm still alive and kicking, I've done my job.
Some days are a little easier. Some days, our minds are prepared for the enemy's onslaught, and we get up, get out of bed, get dressed, maybe even leave the house. Some days we're fighting so hard and with such determination that by the end of the day, we wonder why we can't just accomplish this much every day. And those days are nice, they're a breath of fresh air - but it's easy to fall into the trap of blaming ourselves that not every day is quite so simple. It's easy to wonder, why, if yesterday I cleaned the whole house, washed my car, went to the grocery store and worked a volunteer shift - why am I exhausted before I even get out of bed today? It's because no matter what my body is doing, my mind is fighting that very same war. It's because not every battle can be easily won.
So this is my message for those of you out there who are dealing with mental illness: KEEP FIGHTING THAT WAR! And be kind to yourself. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, you are doing far more 'work' than even you realize, in every minute - and it's just as important as the work anyone else is doing. Let's stop beating ourselves up for 'not being good enough' and start thinking of ourselves like mental health warriors - slashing through dark jungles the likes of which most people can't even imagine.
And for those of you who have a loved one affected by mental illness, my message to you is this: What you're seeing, what you're observing, is only a tiny fraction of what we're going through. While we might look lazy or unmotivated to you, that battle is raging every minute. Be kind with us, be gentle with us, because after a hard day's work, the one thing we want the most is the love and support of the people around us. To know that whatever we're working through, however the battle may have played out each day, we are not fighting it alone.
Monday, April 27, 2015
Monday, April 13, 2015
Defective
It's been no secret over the past year that I've been in intensive therapy for mental health issues, even that I have a diagnosed personality disorder. Less often, I've shared with a few people that even an objective, official assessment of my functioning concluded that I am not currently capable of working or carrying any other great responsibility on my own. What I haven't shared so much, is how this whole thing makes me feel.
Down Syndrome. HIV. Cerebral Palsy. Osteogenesis Imperfecta. Limb differences. Arthrogryposis. Autism. Hydrocephalus.
The doctors said he would never walk or talk, he belonged in an institution, he couldn't learn, he was defective. My grandma and grandpa though, they looked at him and they only saw their son, who they loved no matter what the diagnosis, who they KNEW was not "defective". In the 1960's, this was a relatively uncommon attitude, and its always been one of the things I admired about my grandparents.
She babysat AJ for me that day. From her wheelchair. Wearing her prosthetic leg.
When I sat down in a Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) session a year ago, I was asked to identify the thoughts I had about myself, the core beliefs I held about who I was. I selected a few things.
"I'm a failure."
"I'm broken."
"I'm incompetent."
"I don't matter."
"I'm defective."
As I read through a list of common negative core beliefs, this one stood out to me the most. It's exactly how I'd been feeling - like somehow, between that day and the day God designed me, something had happened that had broken me, knocked a piece or two off, made me less than everybody else. Like I simply wasn't capable of the things most people are capable of, and that was my fault and it meant I would never contribute to the world in any significant way. I was broken. Send back to the factory, toss in the scrap heap, this one's no good.
Sometimes I still think that.
But it was a few weeks into my intensive therapy program when I hit this startling realization, which is what I use to remind myself to this day, that everyone is flawed in some way and it does not decrease our worth, our contributions to the world.
I'd heard "defective" used to describe human beings before, somewhere else.
Remember Katie?
Or how about Brett?
Or Marla?
All of these precious children were declared "defective" by doctors in their home countries, and as such sent to live in orphanages. Any child who was not adopted before their 16th birthday was transferred to a mental institution for the rest of their life. When Katie's mama went on that first trip to meet her daughter, the ward room that little girl was in was labeled "malformations".
Did I ever think of them that way? Malformations? Defective?
Of course not, not for a second.
(And by the way, Katie has grown by leaps and bounds since she was adopted over 3 years ago)
 |
| NOT defective. |
When they're present at birth, we call these diagnoses "birth defects".
Like, because that child is different, she is somehow broken, less than. It's this idea that I've spent the last few years of my life fighting, tooth and nail, on behalf of kids like Katie, and Brett, and Marla.
The are not defective.
Even closer to home there are examples. Most, if not all of you should be familiar with the story of my mom's little brother, my Uncle Tony, who was born with Down Syndrome.
 |
| Also NOT defective. |
The doctors said he would never walk or talk, he belonged in an institution, he couldn't learn, he was defective. My grandma and grandpa though, they looked at him and they only saw their son, who they loved no matter what the diagnosis, who they KNEW was not "defective". In the 1960's, this was a relatively uncommon attitude, and its always been one of the things I admired about my grandparents.
Then there's my best friend, Angie.
 |
| Try and call my best friend defective and I'll break your face. |
She babysat AJ for me that day. From her wheelchair. Wearing her prosthetic leg.
AJ was NOT an 'easy' baby. Anyone who took good, loving care of this little boy (with a set of lungs like you wouldn't believe!) could not possibly be defective.
Further, she was my best friend. And she had cancer. And it took her leg, and then her lung, and then her life. More and more cancer cells popping up with every scan, all over.
Cancer means that cells grow in your body that are not supposed to be there and that cause you harm. Isn't this the very definition of a defect - a problem that is not supposed to be there? Well, maybe in the individual cells, but in the person? In my best friend? No, cancer did NOT make her "defective".
As I sat through weeks of CBT sessions this thought lingered in the corners of my mind. How could I call myself "defective" when I wouldn't call any of these human beings - souls that God made by His own hand and in His image, by that term? Was there a core difference, that because my problems were psychological instead of physical or developmental, I could be defective and they could not? Even I know that doesn't make sense. To further muddy the waters, what about those children with conditions that could be classified as psychological? Self injurious behavior, attachment disorders, even autism skirts the line between developmental and psychological - but none of those kids are "defective". For that matter, what about the person sitting next to me there, at CBT? Of course I would never describe them that way.
So what made me different?
Why was I allowed to be defective when I balked against the notion that any other human being be described as such?
C, my individual counselor in the program, told me that this was an issue of a lack of self compassion. A double standard wherein you hold yourself to a higher ideal, even an impossible ideal, that you would never dream of holding anyone else to. There was no difference, there is no difference. Physical, developmental, psychological, cognitive,whatever - PEOPLE ARE NOT DEFECTIVE.
I work with car seats a lot, helping parents keep their kids safe. Sometimes they're recalled because they are defective and may not keep a child safe. I put a CD in my disc player and for some reason, all it does is spin, no music. Either the CD or the player is broken, defective. But people? No.
People are not defective. People cannot be defective because each and every one of us was created by a loving God in His own image, and He does not make mistakes.
Struggles. People can have struggles. People can have problems, wounds, imperfections, but people ARE NOT problems, wounds, imperfections.... defects. People are people. There's no one way a person should be, no factory stamped seal of approval that declares a person "normal" or "right" - and if those things remain undefined, it is impossible to define "defective".
I'm not sure who I'm writing this post for. Maybe you. Maybe the world. Maybe me. Probably me. Because I still have to remind myself sometimes - okay, all the time - that I can't label myself as defective when I would not apply that word to any other human being. Knowing this doesn't make the emotions, the feelings of inadequacy go away - but it does give me a chance to question my thoughts, because I thought I was defective, but I just proved that wrong. Maybe I'm okay after all. Maybe I just have different kinds of struggles, maybe I'm striving toward a different kind of normal - just like all the other beautiful souls I mentioned. And that's okay, because isn't everybody striving toward their own normal, their own best?
It reminds me of a quote. "If you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life thinking it is stupid." (The attribution for this quote is disputed.) Everyone has their own unique abilities, their own personal goals, and NOT ONE OF US is defective.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
Endometriosis Awareness AMA
So in observance of Endometriosis Awareness Month (March), I'd like to use this post as a little bit of a Q and A. Anything you've ever wanted to ask but you felt like it was prying, too personal, or a 'silly' question? There are no silly questions (although when I'm involved there are silly answers!) So here's my sort of AMA. Ask me anything about endometriosis, about life with endo, anything along those lines! You can do it here (anonymously or not, your choice) or on my facebook/twitter if you happen to see this link there, and I'll answer as best I can. I just want to help spread awareness about a misunderstood disease that affects so very many women in horrible, life-altering ways.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
It Really Is That Black And White
I've learned a lot about black, white, and grey in the last few months.
I have a tendancy to think in black and white. Things are good or bad, right or wrong; there is no in between. I am slowly learning to notice the 'grey areas' - the 'just okay' or 'not the best' or 'it was fun except'.
But sometimes there are no gray areas.
I don't think I have to name names for people to know who I'm talking about when I refer to the little boy who died when his father left him in a hot car all day recently. I don't think I have to rehash the details of the case for people to recall the evidence. If you've read it or heard it once, you haven't forgotten it. By now, enough evidence has come out to charge the boy's father with homicide. It is my professional opinion as a public health scholar that the decision to charge the father is the only one supported by the evidence. It is my personal opinion that there is nothing more horrifying than thinking a parent could ever do this to their own child.
This horrific case has called the entire nation's attention to an even larger problem: dozens of children die this way each year. I can't even imagine how many animals die in the same way. And even if someone manages to get to them before they die, being trapped in a hot car is pure torture.
How do I know? Well, today I watched the video of the veteranarian who locked himself in a hot car for 30 minutes. And it made me think. That man looked pretty miserable. But it was only thirty minutes. And he wasn't in a rear facing car seat, the sun shining down on him through the rear window... and the windows were cracked, as he stated, like you would crack them for a pet.
How much worse must it be for a child, strapped into a rear facing car seat for hours, with no open windows whatsoever?
So I decided to find out. This is the part where I post really horrible pictures of myself to prove a point.
It's only 81 degrees outside today. The day that little boy died, it was 92. Eleven degrees hotter. Here is a snapshot of the weather when I began my experiment:
Not bad at all. Nice day for a walk or a bike ride. Not really even hot enough that I would want to go swimming.
To recreate common conditions, I turned my car on and let the air conditioning cool it to a temperature that was comfortable to me in the front seat. I installed a rear facing car seat in the center back seat of my car, exactly how I would install it to transport a child. Then I turned the car off and got in.
When I started out, everything was pretty normal even a minute or two into the experiment.
1:52 pm: The temperature in the car was about 30 degrees Celsius, which translates to about 86 degrees F. For comparison's sake, it dips to 25 C inside my air conditioned house. This was taken only a couple minutes after turning off the air conditioning in the car.
1:57 pm (5 minutes elapsed): My body temperature was normal. 98.5 degrees F - just about perfect.
I made notes to myself in my cell phone along the way.
At 2:00 (8 minutes elapsed), I wrote "getting hard to breathe". The air was a bit thick but I settled in and started to read my book.
At 2:11 (19 minutes elapsed), I wrote "Hard to think about anything else". I meant anything other than how uncomfortable I was and how much I wanted to get out of the car. I couldn't believe how quickly my formerly air conditioned car was becoming unbearable.
At 2:18 (26 minutes elapsed), I wrote "sweating all over". I later laughed at that note, because really only my legs had began to sweat. My legs were most directly in the sunlight and I'm not a heavy sweater so I didn't really expect to sweat from anywhere else.
2:20 pm (28 minutes elapsed): I took the first picture of myself. I looked... okay, well, I looked horrible, but to be honest I was actually already pretty uncomfortable when I took this first picture. It had been nearly a half an hour and had the circumstances been different I would've already gotten out of the car for some air even on this cool day. But only my legs were perspiring and my skin tone is fairly even.
At 2:21 pm (29 minutes elapsed), I write "Stopped reading". At this point I had become unable to focus on the book I was reading and set it aside in favor of slouching down in the car seat and closing my eyes.
2:23 pm (31 minutes elapsed): The thermometer reads approximately 35 degrees C, or 95 degrees F.
2:24 pm (32 minutes elapsed): The first real beads of sweat begin to roll down my legs. My body temperature reads 98.8.
At 2:27 pm (35 minutes elapsed), I write "Stifling and pouring sweat, dripping down both legs." Little did I know I would later yearn for the time when only my legs were sweating and the temperature remained in the double digits.
At 2:34 pm (42 minutes elapsed), I notice "[the] breath I exhale feels like cool breeze". It occurred to me at this point that an adult would start fanning themselves, but a toddler wouldn't know to do this, so I didn't do it either.
2:39 pm (47 minutes elapsed): I'm starting to look pretty worse for the wear, my face is blotchy and shines with tiny pearls of sweat.
At 2:41 pm (49 minutes elapsed), I note "it is getting really hard to breathe". I remember it occuring to me that I should elaborate on that more, but I didn't have the energy. I wanted to describe how close the air felt to my face, like when I was a little kid and I was hiding from the monsters in my room with my head under the covers trying to breathe through my comforter.
2:51 pm (59 minutes elapsed): Nearing the one hour mark, I take another picture. These are starting to get pretty bad. I note that "all [of my] skin [is] wet and clammy, [and the air] feels suffocating." This is the point at which it actually started to feel like someone was pressing a pillow over my face. I knew I wouldn't be able to stand much more.
At 2:55 pm (64 minutes elapsed), I comment that "beads of sweat [are] popping up all over [my] legs". I take a few pictures over the next five minutes. My thinking has become disorganized and confused, the methodical approach to my experiment deteriorating.
After this point I make no more notes. I lack the energy and mental capacity to complete this simple task. What remains are only pictures.
3:01 pm (69 minutes elapsed): The mercury is reading close to 40 degrees C, or 104 F. Remember, it is only 81 F outside! I take a series of pictures. My face, my drenched arm, my crossed legs with sweat beading all over them, the beginnings of drips of sweat on my face. I am disoriented and take more pictures than I intended to.
3:05 pm (73 minutes elapsed): I'm pretty much continually taking pictures at this point as I notice new issues every moment. My face is now dripping with sweat. My legs look like I've been caught in a rainstorm. Sweat drips down my back and chest and soaks my clothes.
3:08 pm (76 minutes elapsed): I decide I'm done with the experiment and start to get a few last pictures. The thermometer is reading over 40 C so I know it is at least 105 F in the car. I take my body temperature and it comes out to 99.1. The final few pictures of myself show me literally pouring sweat. I remember hearing it drip from my elbow onto the seat of the car, and wondering what made that noise, before realizing that *I* was actually dripping onto the car.
At this point I'm shaking so badly I have to take nearly all of the photos twice. I take a short video of myself to show how bad I am shaking which I am not adding at this time as I haven't watched it and I know I was pretty delirious.
I can't get out of the car fast enough. I fumble with the lock.
At 3:12 pm, after one hour and twenty minutes, I emerge from the car. The outside air at 81 degrees feels crisp and like life itself and I drink it in. I am suddenly overcome by an aversion to being in the car or even near it, even though my rational mind knows I was in control the whole time. Still, I keep the door open as I gather up my things and move it to a slightly more shaded area. My clothes and skin are soaked in sweat and all I can think of is the hose beside the house, and how much I want to just turn it on and pour it over my head.
For the sake of research I only splash the hose water on my face, arms and legs before going in the house. There I change into dry clothes and take a look at the shirt I wore for this experiment. It's a medium tone, not white, not black. You can only tell it's wet by noticing the disparity between the sparse lighter, dry portions and the rest. The back is nearly all wet. I'm still not thinking clearly.
The final temperature in the car was over 105 degrees F. In an hour and twenty minutes, the temperature rose to over 20 degrees higher than the outdoor temperature. My body temperature went up from 98.5 to 99.1, over half a degree and enough to qualify as a low grade fever. My mental senses began to deteriorate, my body poured sweat, and at the very end, I began to shake so hard it actually scared me as to whether I could get out of the car fast enough. It was a horrible ordeal that I wouldn't wish on anyone, even though I did it voluntarily.
This is what dozens of children go through every year... only they can't crawl out and peel off their sweaty clothes... they're strapped into car seats, too little to know what's going on... I can only imagine what comes after the shaking.
This is inexcusable. Look, I know that accidents happen, and parents like the ones who have been in the news lately are the exception, not the rule. Oftentimes when this happens it is a genuine accident and the grief-stricken parent is left racked with guilt forever. But this is exactly why we need a wake up call.
Leave your purse, your wallet, your cell phone, your briefcase - something you need, in the back seat next to your child's car seat every time you get in the car. Start making a habit of looking in the back seat - even if you KNOW you don't have any children with you... because all it takes is one time of being wrong to end a life. Let's all take action to make SURE this isn't allowed to happen any more.
And as for the people in the news... the evidence speaks for itself. What they did is horrible in ways that I could not imagine, more evil than I naively thought existed in this world. There will be a trial, a judge, and a jury, but I already know the verdict. Dying this way, as dozens of children do every year, is torture. That it could be anything less than an honest mistake is unfathomable and amounts to intentionally torturing a child to death. That *defines* murder. Yes, it really is that black and white.
I have a tendancy to think in black and white. Things are good or bad, right or wrong; there is no in between. I am slowly learning to notice the 'grey areas' - the 'just okay' or 'not the best' or 'it was fun except'.
But sometimes there are no gray areas.
I don't think I have to name names for people to know who I'm talking about when I refer to the little boy who died when his father left him in a hot car all day recently. I don't think I have to rehash the details of the case for people to recall the evidence. If you've read it or heard it once, you haven't forgotten it. By now, enough evidence has come out to charge the boy's father with homicide. It is my professional opinion as a public health scholar that the decision to charge the father is the only one supported by the evidence. It is my personal opinion that there is nothing more horrifying than thinking a parent could ever do this to their own child.
This horrific case has called the entire nation's attention to an even larger problem: dozens of children die this way each year. I can't even imagine how many animals die in the same way. And even if someone manages to get to them before they die, being trapped in a hot car is pure torture.
How do I know? Well, today I watched the video of the veteranarian who locked himself in a hot car for 30 minutes. And it made me think. That man looked pretty miserable. But it was only thirty minutes. And he wasn't in a rear facing car seat, the sun shining down on him through the rear window... and the windows were cracked, as he stated, like you would crack them for a pet.
How much worse must it be for a child, strapped into a rear facing car seat for hours, with no open windows whatsoever?
So I decided to find out. This is the part where I post really horrible pictures of myself to prove a point.
It's only 81 degrees outside today. The day that little boy died, it was 92. Eleven degrees hotter. Here is a snapshot of the weather when I began my experiment:
Not bad at all. Nice day for a walk or a bike ride. Not really even hot enough that I would want to go swimming.
To recreate common conditions, I turned my car on and let the air conditioning cool it to a temperature that was comfortable to me in the front seat. I installed a rear facing car seat in the center back seat of my car, exactly how I would install it to transport a child. Then I turned the car off and got in.
When I started out, everything was pretty normal even a minute or two into the experiment.
1:52 pm: The temperature in the car was about 30 degrees Celsius, which translates to about 86 degrees F. For comparison's sake, it dips to 25 C inside my air conditioned house. This was taken only a couple minutes after turning off the air conditioning in the car.
1:57 pm (5 minutes elapsed): My body temperature was normal. 98.5 degrees F - just about perfect.
I made notes to myself in my cell phone along the way.
At 2:00 (8 minutes elapsed), I wrote "getting hard to breathe". The air was a bit thick but I settled in and started to read my book.
At 2:11 (19 minutes elapsed), I wrote "Hard to think about anything else". I meant anything other than how uncomfortable I was and how much I wanted to get out of the car. I couldn't believe how quickly my formerly air conditioned car was becoming unbearable.
At 2:18 (26 minutes elapsed), I wrote "sweating all over". I later laughed at that note, because really only my legs had began to sweat. My legs were most directly in the sunlight and I'm not a heavy sweater so I didn't really expect to sweat from anywhere else.
2:20 pm (28 minutes elapsed): I took the first picture of myself. I looked... okay, well, I looked horrible, but to be honest I was actually already pretty uncomfortable when I took this first picture. It had been nearly a half an hour and had the circumstances been different I would've already gotten out of the car for some air even on this cool day. But only my legs were perspiring and my skin tone is fairly even.
At 2:21 pm (29 minutes elapsed), I write "Stopped reading". At this point I had become unable to focus on the book I was reading and set it aside in favor of slouching down in the car seat and closing my eyes.
2:23 pm (31 minutes elapsed): The thermometer reads approximately 35 degrees C, or 95 degrees F.
2:24 pm (32 minutes elapsed): The first real beads of sweat begin to roll down my legs. My body temperature reads 98.8.
At 2:27 pm (35 minutes elapsed), I write "Stifling and pouring sweat, dripping down both legs." Little did I know I would later yearn for the time when only my legs were sweating and the temperature remained in the double digits.
At 2:34 pm (42 minutes elapsed), I notice "[the] breath I exhale feels like cool breeze". It occurred to me at this point that an adult would start fanning themselves, but a toddler wouldn't know to do this, so I didn't do it either.
2:39 pm (47 minutes elapsed): I'm starting to look pretty worse for the wear, my face is blotchy and shines with tiny pearls of sweat.
At 2:41 pm (49 minutes elapsed), I note "it is getting really hard to breathe". I remember it occuring to me that I should elaborate on that more, but I didn't have the energy. I wanted to describe how close the air felt to my face, like when I was a little kid and I was hiding from the monsters in my room with my head under the covers trying to breathe through my comforter.
2:51 pm (59 minutes elapsed): Nearing the one hour mark, I take another picture. These are starting to get pretty bad. I note that "all [of my] skin [is] wet and clammy, [and the air] feels suffocating." This is the point at which it actually started to feel like someone was pressing a pillow over my face. I knew I wouldn't be able to stand much more.
At 2:55 pm (64 minutes elapsed), I comment that "beads of sweat [are] popping up all over [my] legs". I take a few pictures over the next five minutes. My thinking has become disorganized and confused, the methodical approach to my experiment deteriorating.
 |
| Sweat running down my leg |
 |
| Beads of sweat like pox marks on my shins |
 |
| I know my face will soon be pouring sweat as well. |
After this point I make no more notes. I lack the energy and mental capacity to complete this simple task. What remains are only pictures.
3:01 pm (69 minutes elapsed): The mercury is reading close to 40 degrees C, or 104 F. Remember, it is only 81 F outside! I take a series of pictures. My face, my drenched arm, my crossed legs with sweat beading all over them, the beginnings of drips of sweat on my face. I am disoriented and take more pictures than I intended to.
3:05 pm (73 minutes elapsed): I'm pretty much continually taking pictures at this point as I notice new issues every moment. My face is now dripping with sweat. My legs look like I've been caught in a rainstorm. Sweat drips down my back and chest and soaks my clothes.
3:08 pm (76 minutes elapsed): I decide I'm done with the experiment and start to get a few last pictures. The thermometer is reading over 40 C so I know it is at least 105 F in the car. I take my body temperature and it comes out to 99.1. The final few pictures of myself show me literally pouring sweat. I remember hearing it drip from my elbow onto the seat of the car, and wondering what made that noise, before realizing that *I* was actually dripping onto the car.
At this point I'm shaking so badly I have to take nearly all of the photos twice. I take a short video of myself to show how bad I am shaking which I am not adding at this time as I haven't watched it and I know I was pretty delirious.
I can't get out of the car fast enough. I fumble with the lock.
At 3:12 pm, after one hour and twenty minutes, I emerge from the car. The outside air at 81 degrees feels crisp and like life itself and I drink it in. I am suddenly overcome by an aversion to being in the car or even near it, even though my rational mind knows I was in control the whole time. Still, I keep the door open as I gather up my things and move it to a slightly more shaded area. My clothes and skin are soaked in sweat and all I can think of is the hose beside the house, and how much I want to just turn it on and pour it over my head.
For the sake of research I only splash the hose water on my face, arms and legs before going in the house. There I change into dry clothes and take a look at the shirt I wore for this experiment. It's a medium tone, not white, not black. You can only tell it's wet by noticing the disparity between the sparse lighter, dry portions and the rest. The back is nearly all wet. I'm still not thinking clearly.
The final temperature in the car was over 105 degrees F. In an hour and twenty minutes, the temperature rose to over 20 degrees higher than the outdoor temperature. My body temperature went up from 98.5 to 99.1, over half a degree and enough to qualify as a low grade fever. My mental senses began to deteriorate, my body poured sweat, and at the very end, I began to shake so hard it actually scared me as to whether I could get out of the car fast enough. It was a horrible ordeal that I wouldn't wish on anyone, even though I did it voluntarily.
This is what dozens of children go through every year... only they can't crawl out and peel off their sweaty clothes... they're strapped into car seats, too little to know what's going on... I can only imagine what comes after the shaking.
This is inexcusable. Look, I know that accidents happen, and parents like the ones who have been in the news lately are the exception, not the rule. Oftentimes when this happens it is a genuine accident and the grief-stricken parent is left racked with guilt forever. But this is exactly why we need a wake up call.
Leave your purse, your wallet, your cell phone, your briefcase - something you need, in the back seat next to your child's car seat every time you get in the car. Start making a habit of looking in the back seat - even if you KNOW you don't have any children with you... because all it takes is one time of being wrong to end a life. Let's all take action to make SURE this isn't allowed to happen any more.
And as for the people in the news... the evidence speaks for itself. What they did is horrible in ways that I could not imagine, more evil than I naively thought existed in this world. There will be a trial, a judge, and a jury, but I already know the verdict. Dying this way, as dozens of children do every year, is torture. That it could be anything less than an honest mistake is unfathomable and amounts to intentionally torturing a child to death. That *defines* murder. Yes, it really is that black and white.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
A Short Story
The mother of two young children wakes up on a Saturday morning, and for one blissful moment, hovers in that state between asleep and awake where she's only partially aware of her surroundings. Then in an instant it all comes rushing back... everything that happened yesterday, the painful treatment she had to go through at the hospital, crying because things felt so hopeless, not being able to do the things she wanted to with her children... and she feels crushed all over again.
She drags herself out of bed because she knows she has to care for her children, who will be waking up any minute (in fact, it's a shock that they're not already up!). No sooner than she steps into the bathroom to take her shower, she hears the crying coming from her one year old little boy's nursery. Followed by a loud yell of "MOMMY, THE BABY'S CRYING!" from her four year old daughter. She sighs and retrieves her son from the crib, snuggles him, changes his diaper, and then, already exhausted, goes to the bathroom with both kids standing there vying for her attention. She just wants to get back into bed... she feels so terrible this morning... not that it's different from most mornings.
Knowing she has to at least feed them some sort of breakfast, she pops in some microwave oatmeal, cools it off, and serves it to the kids. She doesn't bother with making anything for herself... nothing agrees with her stomach lately. Shower forgotten, after breakfast, the four year old (who is a little princess) is the only one who gets dressed. She bounds downstairs with more energy than a small Midwestern town and chipperly asks "Mama, can we go to the park today? It's pretty outside."
Guilt washes over the mother, knowing that there is no way she can take her daughter to the park on this admittedly beautiful day. Just the thought of getting the kids and herself ready, loading them into the car, keeping an eye on them at the playground, loading them back up, and coming home, exhausts her. Heart breaking because she can't give her daughter the kind of childhood she wants her to have, she says "Not today, sweetie, Mommy doesn't feel good." The little girl nods - she knows what this means by now.
All day, the children's mother fights against feelings of panic, depression, exhaustion, and complete apathy. She forces herself to do the things necessary for the health and well-being of her children, but it completely takes the wind out of her. She wishes, over and over, that she had someone to help her with all this. Her whole body hurts by now. She just wants to collapse into her bed, or onto the couch, or even the floor at this point. She hasn't eaten all day, yet she feels like she's going to throw up. As she's fighting these overwhelming feelings, the guilt is overwhelming. Her children deserve a whole mother, one who can do all the things she wants to do with them. She hates that they have to understand, at such a young age, what it means when mommy doesn't feel good. If she had a magic wand, she'd fix it all... not for her, but for her kids.
After a whole day of hearing other moms and dads outside playing with their children, reading parenting magazines about exciting springtime activities, the mother is feeling incredibly defeated. If only she could do all these things for her children, who she loves a hundred fold more than herself. If only she were healthy. As she tucks them into bed, skipping baths because it's just too much today and asking them to choose a short book so she can get to bed herself, the thought occurs to her that this is what tomorrow will be like too. Monday her children will go to a sitter while she is at the hospital... and then when they all finally get home, she will be too exhausted to really enjoy them. Tuesday, the same pattern will happen again. And over, and over, and over, for what seems like forever. Sometimes she thinks she's never going to get better, that her children are going to grow up with only half a mother, that she is going to miss the golden moments of their youth. She cries to herself as she falls asleep, praying for healing.
Having read all that, what are you thinking? Keep in mind that this is a true story, a thousand times over.
The mom is obviously sick, but she's doing her best. She probably needs some help at home. What is she sick with? Is it cancer? Is chemotherapy why she's so exhausted? Is it degenerative? Will she die too young? What horrific disease has stolen even the joy of playing with her children?
What if I told you that she is physically perfectly healthy? That all her screenings have come up negative? She doesn't have cancer. She doesn't have heart disease or kidney failure or an aneurysm. She has Borderline Personality Disorder. Or Major Depressive Disorder. Or Panic Disorder. Or Bipolar Disorder. It doesn't even matter which one, those are in a completely separate category for most people. They are *mentally* ill... not physically ill.
I bet the first time you read this story, you felt sad for this young mom and wished you could help her. Now go back, knowing what I've just told you, and see if you feel the same way. Are you still sad for her? Do you still want to help? Or do you blame her? Do you think she shouldn't have those beautiful children since she can't take care of them the way healthy person could?
I think most of us would like to say that it doesn't make a difference to us where the illness lies... but it does, because I've seen it. Cancer is never anyone's fault. A person with MS isn't expected to just 'push through it'. Those of you who know me know that I help with car seat checks because motor vehicle accidents are a top cause of death in the United States and proper restraint can prevent that. Public health dollars are allocated to these things en masse.
We find out someone we know has been stricken with a terrible disease, or hurt in an accident, and all the sudden a meal train is going on, people (some of whom you don't even know) are bringing you dinner every night, offering to clean your house, watch the kids for free, refer you to specialists that they know, offer a shoulder to cry on. We find out that same person has a mental illness and we pull away. Friends stop coming around so much. They don't invite you to social events. They tell you it's 'too hard' to be your shoulder to cry on. There's no meal train. No sympathy cards. No flowers. No concerned coworkers coming by your cubicle on the rare day you make it into work just to ask how you are. Why?
In the 21st century, with everything we know about how the brain works, why would we treat it any different than any other diagnosis? And because we do, how many people go without the treatment they need because they're terrified of the judgment that might come with a diagnosis? For most physical ailments, failing to treat them *will* eventually be fatal. Why would we expect any different of mental illness? Just because it's a different part of the body? Because there aren't quite so many awareness walks and ribbon months? Because people you know don't just come out and say "I have a mental illness" they way they might say "I have diabetes"? There have even been cases where social workers, knowing that the mother is mentally ill rather than physically ill, read the above story (in real life) as neglect and take the children away. Would YOU seek treatment, knowing that in doing so you may lose the only parts of your life that still occasionally bring a smile to your face?
This has to stop. It has to. Because - and no, I'm not being overdramatic here because I have SEEN THIS HAPPEN - our inability to accept mental illness as something that occurs naturally, requires treatment, but does not change the person we know and love, IS KILLING PEOPLE BY THE THOUSANDS. Look at the suicide rates in America over the past few years.
In 2010, suicide was ruled the cause of 38,634 deaths (up from 34,598 deaths in 2007) in the United States alone. Motor vehicle crashes, however - admittedly an area in which I have done much research and volunteering, accounted for 33,687 deaths in 2010, having been officially surpassed as a leading cause of death by suicide.
Many people will say "Well then, why don't more people just get treatment? They just shouldn't kill themselves." But for what other illness or injury do we blame the victim for not getting help?
Make no mistake, suicide is a result of mental illness. Physically and mentally healthy people do not just kill themselves. Suicide is the 'terminal' of mental illness... only it isn't nearly as easy to predict or prevent. Until we shatter the stigma associated with seeking treatment, so that getting help for mental illness is on par with getting help for physical illness, these suicide rates are going to continue to skyrocket. Everyday people... mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brother and sisters, are going to wake up every day and live the kind of life the young mother at the beginning of this post lived. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.
This month, May, is Borderline Personality Disorder awareness month. The color is gray. Admittedly, everything has a month, or a day, and a color, these days, and May is probably an awareness month for at least half a dozen other things, but my goal today is to shine a light on a dark corner of MEDICINE that is rarely seen or heard outside the clinics where it is treated and the lives of those who suffer it. BPD CAN BE FATAL! It can kill you just like any other disease! 10% of BPD sufferers eventually end their own lives. It would not have to be this way if we could erase the stigma of seeking treatment. This is only the first of my posts on the topic. And I'm not saying we need to start up meal trains every time we hear that someone has BPD, starting tomorrow. I'm not even saying that mental and physical illnesses CAN be treated medically in the same way - they cannot. But what does need to change is our perspective. Admitting mental illness should not be a source of shame or embarrassment. It should be no more frightening to come out and say "I have Bipolar Disorder" than it is to come out and say "I have epilepsy". The reaction to such an admission from a loved one should not differ. That is the first step to stopping the epidemic rates at which mental illness affects our populations.
And that is something YOU can do. Next time you hear that a church member has been hospitalized for a suicide attempt, don't avoid their gaze the next time you meet them. Ask that awkward girl who mutters to herself how her day is going... and then just LISTEN to the response, no matter what it is. Don't decide that these people can no longer be trusted or helped. If and when it's appropriate, say something. "Hey. I heard you were having some problems. Here's my number. Please call me any time."
You might just save a life.
She drags herself out of bed because she knows she has to care for her children, who will be waking up any minute (in fact, it's a shock that they're not already up!). No sooner than she steps into the bathroom to take her shower, she hears the crying coming from her one year old little boy's nursery. Followed by a loud yell of "MOMMY, THE BABY'S CRYING!" from her four year old daughter. She sighs and retrieves her son from the crib, snuggles him, changes his diaper, and then, already exhausted, goes to the bathroom with both kids standing there vying for her attention. She just wants to get back into bed... she feels so terrible this morning... not that it's different from most mornings.
Knowing she has to at least feed them some sort of breakfast, she pops in some microwave oatmeal, cools it off, and serves it to the kids. She doesn't bother with making anything for herself... nothing agrees with her stomach lately. Shower forgotten, after breakfast, the four year old (who is a little princess) is the only one who gets dressed. She bounds downstairs with more energy than a small Midwestern town and chipperly asks "Mama, can we go to the park today? It's pretty outside."
Guilt washes over the mother, knowing that there is no way she can take her daughter to the park on this admittedly beautiful day. Just the thought of getting the kids and herself ready, loading them into the car, keeping an eye on them at the playground, loading them back up, and coming home, exhausts her. Heart breaking because she can't give her daughter the kind of childhood she wants her to have, she says "Not today, sweetie, Mommy doesn't feel good." The little girl nods - she knows what this means by now.
All day, the children's mother fights against feelings of panic, depression, exhaustion, and complete apathy. She forces herself to do the things necessary for the health and well-being of her children, but it completely takes the wind out of her. She wishes, over and over, that she had someone to help her with all this. Her whole body hurts by now. She just wants to collapse into her bed, or onto the couch, or even the floor at this point. She hasn't eaten all day, yet she feels like she's going to throw up. As she's fighting these overwhelming feelings, the guilt is overwhelming. Her children deserve a whole mother, one who can do all the things she wants to do with them. She hates that they have to understand, at such a young age, what it means when mommy doesn't feel good. If she had a magic wand, she'd fix it all... not for her, but for her kids.
After a whole day of hearing other moms and dads outside playing with their children, reading parenting magazines about exciting springtime activities, the mother is feeling incredibly defeated. If only she could do all these things for her children, who she loves a hundred fold more than herself. If only she were healthy. As she tucks them into bed, skipping baths because it's just too much today and asking them to choose a short book so she can get to bed herself, the thought occurs to her that this is what tomorrow will be like too. Monday her children will go to a sitter while she is at the hospital... and then when they all finally get home, she will be too exhausted to really enjoy them. Tuesday, the same pattern will happen again. And over, and over, and over, for what seems like forever. Sometimes she thinks she's never going to get better, that her children are going to grow up with only half a mother, that she is going to miss the golden moments of their youth. She cries to herself as she falls asleep, praying for healing.
Having read all that, what are you thinking? Keep in mind that this is a true story, a thousand times over.
The mom is obviously sick, but she's doing her best. She probably needs some help at home. What is she sick with? Is it cancer? Is chemotherapy why she's so exhausted? Is it degenerative? Will she die too young? What horrific disease has stolen even the joy of playing with her children?
What if I told you that she is physically perfectly healthy? That all her screenings have come up negative? She doesn't have cancer. She doesn't have heart disease or kidney failure or an aneurysm. She has Borderline Personality Disorder. Or Major Depressive Disorder. Or Panic Disorder. Or Bipolar Disorder. It doesn't even matter which one, those are in a completely separate category for most people. They are *mentally* ill... not physically ill.
I bet the first time you read this story, you felt sad for this young mom and wished you could help her. Now go back, knowing what I've just told you, and see if you feel the same way. Are you still sad for her? Do you still want to help? Or do you blame her? Do you think she shouldn't have those beautiful children since she can't take care of them the way healthy person could?
I think most of us would like to say that it doesn't make a difference to us where the illness lies... but it does, because I've seen it. Cancer is never anyone's fault. A person with MS isn't expected to just 'push through it'. Those of you who know me know that I help with car seat checks because motor vehicle accidents are a top cause of death in the United States and proper restraint can prevent that. Public health dollars are allocated to these things en masse.
We find out someone we know has been stricken with a terrible disease, or hurt in an accident, and all the sudden a meal train is going on, people (some of whom you don't even know) are bringing you dinner every night, offering to clean your house, watch the kids for free, refer you to specialists that they know, offer a shoulder to cry on. We find out that same person has a mental illness and we pull away. Friends stop coming around so much. They don't invite you to social events. They tell you it's 'too hard' to be your shoulder to cry on. There's no meal train. No sympathy cards. No flowers. No concerned coworkers coming by your cubicle on the rare day you make it into work just to ask how you are. Why?
In the 21st century, with everything we know about how the brain works, why would we treat it any different than any other diagnosis? And because we do, how many people go without the treatment they need because they're terrified of the judgment that might come with a diagnosis? For most physical ailments, failing to treat them *will* eventually be fatal. Why would we expect any different of mental illness? Just because it's a different part of the body? Because there aren't quite so many awareness walks and ribbon months? Because people you know don't just come out and say "I have a mental illness" they way they might say "I have diabetes"? There have even been cases where social workers, knowing that the mother is mentally ill rather than physically ill, read the above story (in real life) as neglect and take the children away. Would YOU seek treatment, knowing that in doing so you may lose the only parts of your life that still occasionally bring a smile to your face?
This has to stop. It has to. Because - and no, I'm not being overdramatic here because I have SEEN THIS HAPPEN - our inability to accept mental illness as something that occurs naturally, requires treatment, but does not change the person we know and love, IS KILLING PEOPLE BY THE THOUSANDS. Look at the suicide rates in America over the past few years.
In 2010, suicide was ruled the cause of 38,634 deaths (up from 34,598 deaths in 2007) in the United States alone. Motor vehicle crashes, however - admittedly an area in which I have done much research and volunteering, accounted for 33,687 deaths in 2010, having been officially surpassed as a leading cause of death by suicide.
Many people will say "Well then, why don't more people just get treatment? They just shouldn't kill themselves." But for what other illness or injury do we blame the victim for not getting help?
Make no mistake, suicide is a result of mental illness. Physically and mentally healthy people do not just kill themselves. Suicide is the 'terminal' of mental illness... only it isn't nearly as easy to predict or prevent. Until we shatter the stigma associated with seeking treatment, so that getting help for mental illness is on par with getting help for physical illness, these suicide rates are going to continue to skyrocket. Everyday people... mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, brother and sisters, are going to wake up every day and live the kind of life the young mother at the beginning of this post lived. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.
This month, May, is Borderline Personality Disorder awareness month. The color is gray. Admittedly, everything has a month, or a day, and a color, these days, and May is probably an awareness month for at least half a dozen other things, but my goal today is to shine a light on a dark corner of MEDICINE that is rarely seen or heard outside the clinics where it is treated and the lives of those who suffer it. BPD CAN BE FATAL! It can kill you just like any other disease! 10% of BPD sufferers eventually end their own lives. It would not have to be this way if we could erase the stigma of seeking treatment. This is only the first of my posts on the topic. And I'm not saying we need to start up meal trains every time we hear that someone has BPD, starting tomorrow. I'm not even saying that mental and physical illnesses CAN be treated medically in the same way - they cannot. But what does need to change is our perspective. Admitting mental illness should not be a source of shame or embarrassment. It should be no more frightening to come out and say "I have Bipolar Disorder" than it is to come out and say "I have epilepsy". The reaction to such an admission from a loved one should not differ. That is the first step to stopping the epidemic rates at which mental illness affects our populations.
And that is something YOU can do. Next time you hear that a church member has been hospitalized for a suicide attempt, don't avoid their gaze the next time you meet them. Ask that awkward girl who mutters to herself how her day is going... and then just LISTEN to the response, no matter what it is. Don't decide that these people can no longer be trusted or helped. If and when it's appropriate, say something. "Hey. I heard you were having some problems. Here's my number. Please call me any time."
You might just save a life.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
I Have A Problem With This
In the recent days, I read about a series of events that made me happy - and then sad - and then sadder. These concerned the activities of Christian children's charity World Vision, and many of you may be familiar with the events to which I am referring. For those who are not, you may find some information here, or just continue reading and I will briefly summarize the events.
On Monday of this week, World Vision, a Christian charity that offers a 'sponsor a child' program to aid impoverished children around the world, announced a policy change reflecting its intention to hire Christians who identified as homosexual. In the two days since that information was released, large numbers (some sources says thousands) of Christian World Vision sponsors immediately withdrew or threatened to withdraw their support of their sponsored child through the program. Facing this backlash and the prospect of having to tell thousands of children that the benefits of having a sponsor were ending for them, World Vision chose to cut their losses and reverse the policy in hopes of keeping its sponsors and maximizing benefit to the children they serve.
Now, I know there were a lot of things wrong with what you just read, but I want to take it one step at a time. First, though, I want to make one thing absolutely clear.
These "Christians" who withdrew their support for the children they had promised to help over a doctrinal disagreement DO NOT represent Christians as a people, and they DO NOT represent the God we serve. We'll get to more on why in a moment.
First let's talk about the initial decision - the policy change to allow the hire of homosexual employees. When I heard about this, I was thrilled. That decision by World Vision was very Christ-like. You see, the God I worship wrote a lot of things in the Bible. Sure, some of them can be interpreted as stating that homosexuality is a sin. My opinion on that is neither here nor there. The point that is important for me to make here is that this is not all the Bible says. The Bible lists a multitude of other things that are considered sinful. Lying. Stealing. Cheating. Disobeying your parents. Working on the Sabbath. Using the Lord's name in vain. Divorce and subsequent remarriage. In the Old Testament, where most of the references to homosexuality are found, even things like consuming pork or wearing the wrong type of clothing. It also states, in more than one place, that God does not consider any one sin 'better' or 'worse' than any other. This means that murderers and liars are guilty of the same sin, not one more than another, neither more worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven. None of us sin better or worse than others, we simply sin differently. So to bar homosexuals - CHRISTIAN homosexuals - from employment, would be no different in the eyes of God than barring anyone who had ever committed any sin from it. And none among us are without sin - so who exactly would World Vision employ?
Contrary to what the Westboro Baptist folks would like you to believe, God LOVES homosexuals. He also loves liars, cheaters and even murderers. In many places the Bible states that never should any one of us stop another person from doing good in God's name because they do so differently, believe differently, or because they are not "one of us". To stop another person from doing good is to do bad yourself. In changing their policy, World Vision was following Christ! Their decision to allow even those whose doctrinal beliefs differ from their own to do good works in the name of the Lord was Christ-like.
What followed, however, was the opposite.
As I previously stated, following the announcement, a large number of World Vision supporters either withdrew, or threatened to withdraw, their commitment to their sponsored child, citing what they believed was a policy that violated their religious beliefs. Since this is my blog and it's about my opinion, I can state quite plainly here that they were WRONG.
Further study of the Bible would reveal to these people that World Vision's actions did not violate the beliefs of Christianity in any way - in fact, it is exactly what Jesus would do. Love every person, encourage them, despite whatever their sins may be, to do good in His name. You see, God LOVES the world. He SO loves the world that He gave His Son so that we might have eternal life. God does not love 'only those without sin'... that's not what the Bible says. It says "For God so loved the world". He loves the sinner. He loves everyone - all colors, shapes and sizes - born and unborn, married and single, gay or straight, rich or poor, happy or sad, clean or dirty. He loves us all... even the liars, the cheaters, the murderers, the adulterers, even the very people who denounce Him. None of us is without sin. He loves us anyways. God would not have us stop any of these people from doing good in His name - so why would we expect World Vision to do that?
What does violate the beliefs of Christianity is withdrawing your support from an innocent, impoverished child who needs your help because you disagree with some higher-ups about a doctrinal issue. This is failing to heed the call of the Bible to care for the orphan and the widow, to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. There is no clause in the Bible for only doing what is right when you get to make the rules. There is no clause that states that it is more important to judge others for their sins than to do good works. Yet that is exactly what all those people did by withdrawing their support. Is that what Jesus would have done? I think not. To hear that people had done this, withdrawn support from innocent children, supposedly 'in the name of God'... well, that hurt my heart. And I know it hurt His too.
So then the news came today that World Vision was reversing its decision... they will no longer hire Christian individuals who identify as homosexual. This made me even sadder. Now not only are they also stopping people from doing good in the name of the Lord... we, the church, by allowing this to happen, are sending the world a message about Christianity. We are sending the message that it is more important to judge than to help. That charity and being Christ-like take a back seat to judgment and pride.
This is where I want to make a different message very clear. These people do not stand for all Christians, nor do they stand for the God we worship. The message they are sending is nothing but harmful to their cause - as it will turn more people off to Christianity, seeing the religion as judgmental and bigoted. But sadly, these people are the vocal minority. There are many, many Christians such as myself who supported World Vision's initial decision. Some of us even sought out the organization to make donations or sign up to sponsor a child because of Monday's statement. But you won't see any mass exodus of these people now that the statement has been reversed - because they actually value being Christ-like first, and would never withdraw support from one of God's children, or from an organization that helps God's children, over such a disagreement. Certainly, to me at least, World Vision's reputation has been tarnished by the reversal - but if I had chosen to sign up to sponsor a child, I would not withdraw my support of that child now - the only person who loses when people do that is the innocent child.
It would be easy to assume that since things will quiet down now that the statement has been reversed, that Christian sponsors are happy with the results. But like I said - the outcry came from the vocal minority. The vast majority of Christians support both the ministry of World Vision and the equal hiring practices proposed in the initial statement. We are saddened and disappointed by the reversal - but we won't be taking it out on the children.
So please, I ask you as you read about these things in the news, do not judge all of us by the ones who give us a bad name. Do not be deceived into believing that we are all judgmental and bigoted - because the vast majority of us are not! Those who are truly following Christ, even if they believe that homosexuality is a sin, also realize that we are all guilty of sin and that none of us should be judged solely by our sins. We believe that none among us should be held back from doing good in His name because we sin in one way or another - because who, then, would do good? We do not value being judgmental - the Bible does not call us to that. We value being Christ-like, which the Bible does call us to... and He loves each and every human soul. We truly do believe in asking ourselves, "What would Jesus do". And in this case, well, as my favorite pastor used to say... "God loves you. He loves you just the way you are."
So do good in His name. Let no one stop you - any who try are not doing the work of the Lord. And know that a vocal and judgmental minority does not represent our religion, or our God.
On Monday of this week, World Vision, a Christian charity that offers a 'sponsor a child' program to aid impoverished children around the world, announced a policy change reflecting its intention to hire Christians who identified as homosexual. In the two days since that information was released, large numbers (some sources says thousands) of Christian World Vision sponsors immediately withdrew or threatened to withdraw their support of their sponsored child through the program. Facing this backlash and the prospect of having to tell thousands of children that the benefits of having a sponsor were ending for them, World Vision chose to cut their losses and reverse the policy in hopes of keeping its sponsors and maximizing benefit to the children they serve.
Now, I know there were a lot of things wrong with what you just read, but I want to take it one step at a time. First, though, I want to make one thing absolutely clear.
These "Christians" who withdrew their support for the children they had promised to help over a doctrinal disagreement DO NOT represent Christians as a people, and they DO NOT represent the God we serve. We'll get to more on why in a moment.
First let's talk about the initial decision - the policy change to allow the hire of homosexual employees. When I heard about this, I was thrilled. That decision by World Vision was very Christ-like. You see, the God I worship wrote a lot of things in the Bible. Sure, some of them can be interpreted as stating that homosexuality is a sin. My opinion on that is neither here nor there. The point that is important for me to make here is that this is not all the Bible says. The Bible lists a multitude of other things that are considered sinful. Lying. Stealing. Cheating. Disobeying your parents. Working on the Sabbath. Using the Lord's name in vain. Divorce and subsequent remarriage. In the Old Testament, where most of the references to homosexuality are found, even things like consuming pork or wearing the wrong type of clothing. It also states, in more than one place, that God does not consider any one sin 'better' or 'worse' than any other. This means that murderers and liars are guilty of the same sin, not one more than another, neither more worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven. None of us sin better or worse than others, we simply sin differently. So to bar homosexuals - CHRISTIAN homosexuals - from employment, would be no different in the eyes of God than barring anyone who had ever committed any sin from it. And none among us are without sin - so who exactly would World Vision employ?
Contrary to what the Westboro Baptist folks would like you to believe, God LOVES homosexuals. He also loves liars, cheaters and even murderers. In many places the Bible states that never should any one of us stop another person from doing good in God's name because they do so differently, believe differently, or because they are not "one of us". To stop another person from doing good is to do bad yourself. In changing their policy, World Vision was following Christ! Their decision to allow even those whose doctrinal beliefs differ from their own to do good works in the name of the Lord was Christ-like.
What followed, however, was the opposite.
As I previously stated, following the announcement, a large number of World Vision supporters either withdrew, or threatened to withdraw, their commitment to their sponsored child, citing what they believed was a policy that violated their religious beliefs. Since this is my blog and it's about my opinion, I can state quite plainly here that they were WRONG.
Further study of the Bible would reveal to these people that World Vision's actions did not violate the beliefs of Christianity in any way - in fact, it is exactly what Jesus would do. Love every person, encourage them, despite whatever their sins may be, to do good in His name. You see, God LOVES the world. He SO loves the world that He gave His Son so that we might have eternal life. God does not love 'only those without sin'... that's not what the Bible says. It says "For God so loved the world". He loves the sinner. He loves everyone - all colors, shapes and sizes - born and unborn, married and single, gay or straight, rich or poor, happy or sad, clean or dirty. He loves us all... even the liars, the cheaters, the murderers, the adulterers, even the very people who denounce Him. None of us is without sin. He loves us anyways. God would not have us stop any of these people from doing good in His name - so why would we expect World Vision to do that?
What does violate the beliefs of Christianity is withdrawing your support from an innocent, impoverished child who needs your help because you disagree with some higher-ups about a doctrinal issue. This is failing to heed the call of the Bible to care for the orphan and the widow, to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. There is no clause in the Bible for only doing what is right when you get to make the rules. There is no clause that states that it is more important to judge others for their sins than to do good works. Yet that is exactly what all those people did by withdrawing their support. Is that what Jesus would have done? I think not. To hear that people had done this, withdrawn support from innocent children, supposedly 'in the name of God'... well, that hurt my heart. And I know it hurt His too.
So then the news came today that World Vision was reversing its decision... they will no longer hire Christian individuals who identify as homosexual. This made me even sadder. Now not only are they also stopping people from doing good in the name of the Lord... we, the church, by allowing this to happen, are sending the world a message about Christianity. We are sending the message that it is more important to judge than to help. That charity and being Christ-like take a back seat to judgment and pride.
This is where I want to make a different message very clear. These people do not stand for all Christians, nor do they stand for the God we worship. The message they are sending is nothing but harmful to their cause - as it will turn more people off to Christianity, seeing the religion as judgmental and bigoted. But sadly, these people are the vocal minority. There are many, many Christians such as myself who supported World Vision's initial decision. Some of us even sought out the organization to make donations or sign up to sponsor a child because of Monday's statement. But you won't see any mass exodus of these people now that the statement has been reversed - because they actually value being Christ-like first, and would never withdraw support from one of God's children, or from an organization that helps God's children, over such a disagreement. Certainly, to me at least, World Vision's reputation has been tarnished by the reversal - but if I had chosen to sign up to sponsor a child, I would not withdraw my support of that child now - the only person who loses when people do that is the innocent child.
It would be easy to assume that since things will quiet down now that the statement has been reversed, that Christian sponsors are happy with the results. But like I said - the outcry came from the vocal minority. The vast majority of Christians support both the ministry of World Vision and the equal hiring practices proposed in the initial statement. We are saddened and disappointed by the reversal - but we won't be taking it out on the children.
So please, I ask you as you read about these things in the news, do not judge all of us by the ones who give us a bad name. Do not be deceived into believing that we are all judgmental and bigoted - because the vast majority of us are not! Those who are truly following Christ, even if they believe that homosexuality is a sin, also realize that we are all guilty of sin and that none of us should be judged solely by our sins. We believe that none among us should be held back from doing good in His name because we sin in one way or another - because who, then, would do good? We do not value being judgmental - the Bible does not call us to that. We value being Christ-like, which the Bible does call us to... and He loves each and every human soul. We truly do believe in asking ourselves, "What would Jesus do". And in this case, well, as my favorite pastor used to say... "God loves you. He loves you just the way you are."
So do good in His name. Let no one stop you - any who try are not doing the work of the Lord. And know that a vocal and judgmental minority does not represent our religion, or our God.
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
Too Long
Princesa,
It has been too long since I wrote. I am sorry. I have given you reasons before and I don't think you need to hear them again, I think you will understand perfectly well, but I do want to make sure that you know that even when I go a long time between letters, it does not mean I am thinking of you or missing you any less. I still fall asleep every night snuggling Ellfant and thinking of you. I still pray night and day for your health, safety, and happiness... and for you to come home. I still see you in every little detail of my every day.
Yesterday I opened the closet to get out a coat to wear, and saw your flower umbrella that you got for your seventh birthday, and the pink rain jacket we bought because you didn't have one to wear to school, and I wished you were here to use them. I allowed myself to part with a few of your things - outfits, shoes, things like that - so that your friends J and N can use them. You should see the pride they take in wearing "A's clothes". How they tell me they miss you every time they put them on. How my heart smiles seeing things that used to be yours bringing other children joy.
You're going to be 11 soon. I thought double digits was hard, but 11... goodness. The day I said goodbye to you, you were 9. Little. 11 is a pre-teen! I hate so much that I have missed these 21 months of your life. I wonder what has changed about you. Which of your little quirks you have retained, if you've gained any new ones, what parts of who you were when I saw you last that you have outgrown.
Stores are full of fun spring and Easter goodies. I long to put together an Easter basket for you, to pick up another pair of adorable Easter socks in the dollar aisle, to take you to the store and have a fashion show to pick out the very best swimsuit for summer. Mom made Paczki last weekend and the weekend before... and I think about how if you were here, I'd barely get any! But I wouldn't mind, because it would mean you were here.
I can't look forward to your birthday this year. It was so very hard for me last year, even though I put a smile on and celebrated for you. We'll celebrate again this year... but it won't be the same without you. I'll miss picking out the perfect presents and watching you open them and exclaim "Oh, I just did want this!" even when you'd never seen it before in your life. I hope you'll have cake and presents and ice cream and love wherever you are.
But I don't want my letter to be all about being sad and missing you because you were never one to dwell on the negative, the things you couldn't control - you were one to seize the day, enjoy the moment we were in. So I'll fill you in on our 'moments'... on one condition... you tell me everything you can remember that put a smile on your face since I last saw you, when I see you again.
Mom is still working a lot, but she does it for our family and I know she loves and thinks of you all the time. She's been cooking a lot of fun treats lately that I'm sure you'd be glad to help her out with... at least the licking the beaters part. She misses sharing her bagels with you in the morning, you helping her dry the dishes.
Danny is going to college now, he's mostly taking general classes because he's still not quite sure what he wants to do 'when he grows up', but he seems to like it. He plays video games all the time, as usual. He's also driving now (I know, scary, right?) so there's an extra person to run errands around here. He had a friend over last weekend... and they, you know, played video games while sitting next to each other, haha.
M doesn't come over every day anymore because she's almost 15 years old and big enough to stay by herself for a few hours - but we get together on weekends sometimes, or even weeknights especially if it's going to be cold in the morning so I can drive her to school. We go shopping, play games, go out to eat... a couple weeks ago we went to Fort Rapids (the indoor water park I took you to where we saw some of our friends from church) and had a really good time. Wished you were there. We'll go when you come home.
I know you'll want an update on the kitties... they are doing good. I think I wrote to you before that Boo went to kitty heaven, but that I got another kitten and named him Marbles - he's about a year and a half old now. He and Tiger (or, "Stripey Cat" as you liked to call him) get along really well, even though they beat up on each other and chase each other around the house a lot. Marbles got out of the house the other day when it was snowing and really cold... Danny and I had to drag him in from under the deck!
As for me... I worked for a few months as a nanny for a 3 year old boy and a newborn little girl. I quit that job a couple weeks ago because it was just too stressful - funny how other people's kids are so much harder to handle than you guys! I'm back to looking for jobs and helping Shannon with your friends J and N, and little M who has turned into a toddler since you last saw her, and R who was born last summer. I love being at their house because they know and understand everything you and I went through. Shannon understands where you're coming from more than I think you even know. One day maybe you can talk to her about it. I've also been doing the same stuff, helping orphans find families and getting them home, and seen a lot of beautiful families in the process. And I taught myself how to make really cool bracelets and if you were here I'd make you a pink and purple one. Actually, I do have a surprise for you when you go home... for all our missed birthdays, Easters and Christmases. I can't wait to give it to you.
I wish I could hear from you and hear how you're doing, what you're up to, who your friends are, how you like school... we're going to have a lot of catching up to do when I see you again!
I love you Princess. I love you like the moon at night - big, and round, and warm, and bright.
I love you. Goodnight.
Love you forever,
"Kai"
It has been too long since I wrote. I am sorry. I have given you reasons before and I don't think you need to hear them again, I think you will understand perfectly well, but I do want to make sure that you know that even when I go a long time between letters, it does not mean I am thinking of you or missing you any less. I still fall asleep every night snuggling Ellfant and thinking of you. I still pray night and day for your health, safety, and happiness... and for you to come home. I still see you in every little detail of my every day.
Yesterday I opened the closet to get out a coat to wear, and saw your flower umbrella that you got for your seventh birthday, and the pink rain jacket we bought because you didn't have one to wear to school, and I wished you were here to use them. I allowed myself to part with a few of your things - outfits, shoes, things like that - so that your friends J and N can use them. You should see the pride they take in wearing "A's clothes". How they tell me they miss you every time they put them on. How my heart smiles seeing things that used to be yours bringing other children joy.
You're going to be 11 soon. I thought double digits was hard, but 11... goodness. The day I said goodbye to you, you were 9. Little. 11 is a pre-teen! I hate so much that I have missed these 21 months of your life. I wonder what has changed about you. Which of your little quirks you have retained, if you've gained any new ones, what parts of who you were when I saw you last that you have outgrown.
Stores are full of fun spring and Easter goodies. I long to put together an Easter basket for you, to pick up another pair of adorable Easter socks in the dollar aisle, to take you to the store and have a fashion show to pick out the very best swimsuit for summer. Mom made Paczki last weekend and the weekend before... and I think about how if you were here, I'd barely get any! But I wouldn't mind, because it would mean you were here.
I can't look forward to your birthday this year. It was so very hard for me last year, even though I put a smile on and celebrated for you. We'll celebrate again this year... but it won't be the same without you. I'll miss picking out the perfect presents and watching you open them and exclaim "Oh, I just did want this!" even when you'd never seen it before in your life. I hope you'll have cake and presents and ice cream and love wherever you are.
But I don't want my letter to be all about being sad and missing you because you were never one to dwell on the negative, the things you couldn't control - you were one to seize the day, enjoy the moment we were in. So I'll fill you in on our 'moments'... on one condition... you tell me everything you can remember that put a smile on your face since I last saw you, when I see you again.
Mom is still working a lot, but she does it for our family and I know she loves and thinks of you all the time. She's been cooking a lot of fun treats lately that I'm sure you'd be glad to help her out with... at least the licking the beaters part. She misses sharing her bagels with you in the morning, you helping her dry the dishes.
Danny is going to college now, he's mostly taking general classes because he's still not quite sure what he wants to do 'when he grows up', but he seems to like it. He plays video games all the time, as usual. He's also driving now (I know, scary, right?) so there's an extra person to run errands around here. He had a friend over last weekend... and they, you know, played video games while sitting next to each other, haha.
M doesn't come over every day anymore because she's almost 15 years old and big enough to stay by herself for a few hours - but we get together on weekends sometimes, or even weeknights especially if it's going to be cold in the morning so I can drive her to school. We go shopping, play games, go out to eat... a couple weeks ago we went to Fort Rapids (the indoor water park I took you to where we saw some of our friends from church) and had a really good time. Wished you were there. We'll go when you come home.
I know you'll want an update on the kitties... they are doing good. I think I wrote to you before that Boo went to kitty heaven, but that I got another kitten and named him Marbles - he's about a year and a half old now. He and Tiger (or, "Stripey Cat" as you liked to call him) get along really well, even though they beat up on each other and chase each other around the house a lot. Marbles got out of the house the other day when it was snowing and really cold... Danny and I had to drag him in from under the deck!
As for me... I worked for a few months as a nanny for a 3 year old boy and a newborn little girl. I quit that job a couple weeks ago because it was just too stressful - funny how other people's kids are so much harder to handle than you guys! I'm back to looking for jobs and helping Shannon with your friends J and N, and little M who has turned into a toddler since you last saw her, and R who was born last summer. I love being at their house because they know and understand everything you and I went through. Shannon understands where you're coming from more than I think you even know. One day maybe you can talk to her about it. I've also been doing the same stuff, helping orphans find families and getting them home, and seen a lot of beautiful families in the process. And I taught myself how to make really cool bracelets and if you were here I'd make you a pink and purple one. Actually, I do have a surprise for you when you go home... for all our missed birthdays, Easters and Christmases. I can't wait to give it to you.
I wish I could hear from you and hear how you're doing, what you're up to, who your friends are, how you like school... we're going to have a lot of catching up to do when I see you again!
I love you Princess. I love you like the moon at night - big, and round, and warm, and bright.
I love you. Goodnight.
Love you forever,
"Kai"
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