Law enforcement involvement with mental health

I got this interesting article in a work email today and had to share it on my blog. It's incredibly refreshing to see law enforcement (Seattle PD, Crisis Intervention Unit) getting involved from a more solution focused approach to mental health treatment....a truly systemic model. You know the saying "It takes a village to raise a child?" Well, here ya go.....

Seattle police unit reaches out to the mentally ill

Two officers dedicated to helping people get treatment, and heading off crises

By SCOTT GUTIERREZ
P-I REPORTER

The former social worker on Ravenna Avenue Northeast used to help the vulnerable. Now, she's the one who needs help.

When she's delusional, the 66-year-old can be violent toward neighbors. In two years, her neighbors have called police a dozen times.

As Seattle Police Officers Scott Enright and Suzie Parton pull up one afternoon in September, they can barely see her home behind a wall of overgrown blackberry bushes. They wonder if she will be calm, confused or even safe.

She has physically attacked one neighbor and dumped cat box filler through another's sunroof. One night, she pounded on a sleeping 3-year-old's bedroom window, beckoning the child to come outside.

"That was super-scary for that family," said Parton, part of the Crisis Intervention Unit, which specializes in working with the mentally ill.

The woman isn't sick or dangerous enough to be detained for psychiatric help. Yet, when she's been arrested, her mental problems made her incapable of facing criminal charges.

With resources limited for the mentally ill, police often are the first to get called when someone is having a psychiatric meltdown. In a unique approach, the Seattle Police Department dedicated two officers to cases such as this one, hoping to prevent crises before they turn tragic.

Part cop, part social worker, Enright and Parton look for solutions for people who commit crimes because they are undiagnosed, off their meds or lacking access to services. They coordinate with social workers, probation officers and mental health professionals, hoping to get unstable people off the streets and into treatment, or jail.

"Getting them the treatment and social services they need meets a public safety need, which is what we're about," Enright said.

They focus mostly on misdemeanors, hoping to intervene before mental problems cause someone to commit more serious crimes. Many offenders have more serious records and a history of drug or alcohol abuse. Some cases don't result in arrests, yet the person is a constant source of 911 calls. Sometimes, they look into noncriminal matters that might otherwise slip under the radar, such as neighbor disputes that exhibit odd behavior.

"A large part of our work is threat assessment," said Sgt. L.G. Eddy, who heads the unit. "Sometimes we find when they go out and chat that there is way more to it than what got reported that day."

Among cases they've worked on:

A naked man at Westlake Center who was arrested more than 20 times in a year, costing taxpayers about $50,000. The officers met with the man's caretakers at a state-funded group home and pressured them to pay closer attention. He's been under control since.

A schizophrenic man who frightened neighbors by repeatedly shouting from his balcony.

A North Seattle man whose rants toward his mother prompted the officers to dig further and discover a "freaky" arsenal of weapons in his bedroom, including clubs with metal spikes, samurai swords and playing cards fitted with metal razor edges.

"I think our intervention prevented some real newsworthy violence," Enright said. "But obviously you can't know what you prevented because you prevented it."

Still, the officers emphasize that people with mental illness aren't any more violent than the general population.

"But they get a lot more attention when they do something violent," Parton said.

Enright and Parton form an investigative arm of the unit, which started in 1998 as a training program to teach patrol officers better techniques for defusing confrontations with mentally ill people who are aggressive. It followed two tense situations in 1996 and 1997, including an 11-hour standoff with a sword-wielding man downtown, which officers resolved peacefully.

Eddy pushed to expand the program by dedicating an officer who would serve as a liaison to social services and Mental Health Court . In 2001, Parton, a veteran hostage negotiator who has a background in social work, was the first to join. Enright, a former motorcycle officer and Anti-Crime Team member, was first assigned four years ago.

Having the specialized unit and training doesn't compensate for a lack of publicly funded resources for people who are in need of mental health care, Eddy said.

"All the police training in the world is not going to take care of this issue," she said.

In the near future, the officers could be teamed up with county mental health professionals, who hold the authority to decide when someone should be involuntarily committed for 72-hour emergency psychiatric help. The project is one of many the King County Council approved last week as part of a $50 million plan to expand services for the mentally ill and reduce mental-health related incarcerations by 30 percent. The money will come from a one-tenth of 1 percent sales tax increase.

By accompanying officers on calls, mental health workers could see how someone is behaving in the moment and not after he or she is in a controlled environment, Eddy said.

The officers' cases generally are referred to the city's Mental Health Court , which was the fourth in the nation when it was established in 1999 as a means to treat the underlying disorders behind some criminal behavior.

Unlike a traditional adversarial system, the court is set up so that all sides work toward rehabilitating the client. A defendant who is eligible agrees to enter an intensive, closely monitored two-year treatment and housing program.

"These officers take the extra time and effort to learn how to better deal with these clients," said Russell Kurth, the public defender assigned to Mental Health Court .

The officers often consult him on the best way to bring someone in and move quickly to find someone who broke a court order or missed a hearing, Kurth said.

For the officers, it's satisfying to see when they arrest someone who turns his or her life around through the court.

Enright points to the man who amassed the weapons in his bedroom.

"I still see him every once in a while. He's still on probation and really doing well," Enright said. He noted, however, that a court order prevents the man from contacting his mother, which was tough for the family.

Parton was working last month to untangle the case of a newlywed who had for years successfully coped with bipolar disorder. A few months ago, she fell apart, and when her family tried to take her to the hospital for a mental exam, she tried to run.

With no other options, the woman's mother called police. The officer who responded tried to stop the daughter, who threw a punch. The woman, who had no prior criminal record, is now charged with assault and spent weeks in jail when she needed treatment, Parton said.

"Sometimes I just want to answer 911 calls," she said. "You want to have a happy ending, but sometimes in this work, you can go weeks without one."

A ticket to Mental Health Court isn't automatic, especially if the person is deemed not competent to stand trial because of his or her illness. In a majority of misdemeanor cases, that means the charges are dismissed and the person is released.

That frustrates the officers, who think the state's competency laws should at least provide supervision for someone who committed a crime and is released. People with competency issues can be civilly committed, but only if the state can prove that they are an imminent danger or gravely disabled, and that there is no alternative. As a result, patients are committed in only a small percentage of cases.

The officers say that creates a revolving door of "frequent fliers" who are back out on the street with no treatment.

"I appreciate that we're in America , and I appreciate civil rights. But I think people need to have the opportunity to get better, and when they're not in their right minds, I don't think the choice should always be, 'Don't put them in the hospital,' " Parton said.

Changing the state's involuntary commitment law to mandate treatment for those with a significant history of violence was one of several recommendations from a task force appointed to examine the state's mental health system. The task force was convened after James Williams, a repeat violent offender with schizophrenia, killed Shannon Harps on New Year's Eve.

King County is discussing other options such as a "crisis diversion center," where police could take someone who can't be detained for referrals to services.

Back at the Ravenna Avenue home, the former social worker isn't home when Enright and Parton arrive, although her back door is wide open. Her shopping cart is tipped over into a bush.

Trash, mostly dozens of empty Lean Cuisine cartons, flows out the door onto the back porch. The woman has no plumbing and is known to use buckets around her yard as toilets, Parton said.

On a prior visit, Enright was forced to handcuff her after she assaulted a neighbor. She had forgotten by the next visit.

Living alone and with no immediate family, the woman was worried about her roof. Enright climbed up for her and took care of it. "He inspected her gutters, and that was it. She just loves him now," Parton said.

As the officers call out the woman's name, another concern emerges. Vandals have recently begun picking on the woman. Someone recently broke in and left a message in graffiti on the kitchen wall: "Do you feel me crazy lady?"

"I don't want her to become a victim," Enright said.

They decide to enter the home and trudge through the garbage. They peek into a bedroom and stop. Splashed across her walls and pillows is a dried, brown substance that resembles blood.

The officers don't see or smell a dead body, but fearing they might have entered a crime scene, they back out. Enright calls for assistance from a patrol sergeant, and once he arrives, they re-enter. They find an opened bottle of barbecue sauce on the bed.

Enright and Parton breathe a sigh of relief, but wonder if the stains are another prank on the woman.

A week later, they learn from neighbors that the woman came home. So, they plan to visit again and are working with Adult Protective Services as the city begins proceedings to appoint her a legal guardian.

"Last year, we were more concerned about her neighbors' well-being," Enright said. "This year, we're more concerned about her well-being."

Con-sensual?

When alcohol is involved, sexual activity between two people can become very questionable. Sex WITHOUT alcohol can be complicated enough, but add alcohol and hazy judgment? This does not make for a good scenario, especially if blackouts are a factor. Don't worry, I'm not talking about myself; it's something I heard today that really bothered me.

In any case, hearing about this particular story made me realize how much of a double standard it can be if you think about it and even more confusing to make sense of in a society already full of misogyny. Makes you wonder.

If a man and a woman get totally drunk, and the man blacks out later to find out he doesn't remember having sex with the woman....it's more likely perceived as a poor judgment call, but we don't question whether the man could have been drugged and raped, right? But when it's the other way around, we are alarmed and wonder: was it consensual? And is it really consensual if she can't remember that she consented?! Is it rape if she consented, but may have not been coherent enough to be aware of whether he did or did not wear a condom (because he was probably on the verge of blacking out himself)? Or was it a manipulative, sadistic drug-induced setup the whole time?

Ramblings of a therapist

Today I realized that I need to do more for myself, at least as far as self-care goes. I am constantly taking care of everyone else; my need to be nurtured tends to come secondary a majority of the time....and that's just not right. I'm not sure how that translates in my life exactly, but I'm working on exploring that more. Maybe it means more spontaneity.....like doing something I really want to do on a whim. Having this realization today, I decided to do something I haven't done in awhile: have some Thai food, my favorite ethnic meal. It was delicious. :)

I had class today and while alot of it was quite common sense to my level of education and work experience, I am always able to extrapolate some kind of newfound knowledge, insight,etc. What did I glean from today's discussion? (Aside from realizing I need to take care of myself more....)

The attachments we form in childhood with our parents are more significant and incomparable to that of any other social relationship from then on. If that attachment isn't there early on, an unhealthy form of attachment to a substance of some sort (drugs, gambling, food, ad infinitum...take your pick of the proverbial non-human variety) is more likely to occur. One is more apt to have increased insecurity and an inability to form intimate relationships (aka, healthy attachments in adulthood, specifically in regard to romantic relationships).

It never occurred to me that choosing a substance in a way is a SUBstitute for the absence of a significant bond of attachment. The substance becomes the 'relationship' of attachment. When seen in such a systemic framework, it becomes clear how an addiction can become so seemingly impossible to let go off from one's life. It's a safety net, a security.

If someone told you that in order to make a change in your life, you had to let go of your relationship to your parent(s)....the only attachment(s) you've ever truly connected with, how would you respond? Just how open or resistant might you be to change?

Working with issues: my own and others

Last week, you may recall I mentioned that I would be posting a short paper I have to write for my Chemical Dependency and the Family class. I basically had to write one page about a distressing quality (aka, personal issue) about myself that could impact or interfere with working effectively with a chemically dependent family. It was difficult to write only one page, seeing as I'm so verbose and all....but here it is.....

Setting high standards for myself has typically worked out favorably for me, at least as far as reaching my goals. Growing up the daughter of a cop and a teacher, a love of learning and a strong work ethic were instilled within me at a young age. I always went the extra scholastic mile, and it showed. I graduated from undergraduate college with honors and went on to get my master's degree in counseling. While this worked well for me in academia, it was a whole different ballgame in the counseling arena of chemical dependency.

It wasn't until I started my first official counseling job working as a substance abuse counselor at a methadone maintainence clinic that I realized how much this quality about myself caused me distress. It also made me ineffective in my work with addicts. My perfectionistic, overachieving standards many times left me feeling like I was working harder than them. I was tired, stressed out, and miserable. I think it also made me less relateable as a person. If I couldn't go with the flow and make mistakes, how could they feel they could do the same in their recovery? I had to release my need for control. I also had to give up thinking that if I worked real hard to help a client, it automatically meant they would magically become sober and make positive changes. If only it were that easy for addicts!

Interestingly, I noticed my work became more effective as I worked on modifying this quality within myself. Sessions with clients became more relaxed, sometimes taking on a life its own. What started off as a distressing quality in the past has morphed into something valuable in the present. Working with a chemically dependent population has impacted my ability to be more patient (with both myself and the client) and more effectively meet clients 'where they're at.'

Ski lifts, stab wounds, and a new boyfriend?

How can dreams (and/or nightmares) have so much influence on our mood when we wake up, assuming we remember them? Ok, maybe not you...but this is certainly the case for me. Maybe because I'm such a visual and emotional person? I don't know.

My dreams have been pretty intense and stressful the past few weeks. In any case, not a good feeling. Two such nightmares:

1. My mom and I were at some ski resort place. We were standing near ski lifts (ya know, those 'chairs' that whisk you away up into the sky to where you need to need to be dropped off for skiiing) and I felt pressured to make sure we got on the ski lift. But it wasn't easy. The ski lift was far away or stuck to where it couldn't just scoop us up real close. I looked at my mom and she had this look on her face like she was really counting on me to pull this off. We must have had somewhere real important to be (haha)! I realized I would have to jump pretty far....and wide. We were at a high altitude already, which meant there were several feel beneath me. If I didn't jump the right way and catch onto the ski lift, I would likely fall and die. Yet, I never got a feeling that I had any choice in the matter. I HAD to get on this ski lift and I had to get my mom on there with me. So scared beyond belief with adrenaline coursing through my body, I jumped. And we made it onto the ski lift. End of dream.

2. I'm inside an empty house, alone. I walk around because I can hear something and naturally, I feel the need to investigate (this is where in hindsight I must sound like one of those dumb people you see in scary movies that decides to snoop around a house and has no clue they're about to be killed....still scared, the person leisurely roams around the house). As I come around a corner, I peer into a room and straight ahead of me I see a woman (whom I recognize in 'real life' as M, an intern at my work) and a man. They are standing in front of a window. The room is lit by the sun. Their backs are facing me; they don't see I am there. The way they are standing makes me wonder if they are initiating sex with each other....when it dawns on me that as he is standing behind her, he proceeds to STAB her in the back five times. The bizarre thing though was that it almost seemed fake, more fake than in a movie. She hardly reacted. I had to really look (I felt more freaked out than she did). She had five small puncture wounds on her back, just barely bleeding. I started to walk away and find someone. Just then, I hear other voices. I am relieved that someone else is there to help. But when I gaze into the kitchen, I can see my coworker S. with a few other coworkers taking groceries out of plastic bags. They are oblivious to my presence. I suddenly don't know which is worse: M being stabbed or me feeling like I am invisible to people, like a fly on the wall.

Can you see why sleeping hasn't been all that fun for me lately? :) This morning was the first time in awhile, however, where I woke up from a good dream. I don't remember the details as vividly as the nightmares (how typical). All I do know is that the British guy was in my dream. Hahaha. No matter where I went, he was tagging along with me. It was as if I couldn't get rid of him. At first I tried to rationalize his presence as coincidence, that we just happened to be going to the same places. I slowly started to realize he wanted to go everywhere with me, like he was my boyfriend. In this case, I hope a dream becomes more than 'just a dream.'

Twilight Zone?

The recurring theme of my thoughts this whole week: "Am I in the Twilight Zone?" It's been a strange week with people, personally and professionally. No matter how much I think I have a particular person figured out, they will do something to surprise me. This is especially true in regard to relationship dynamics. No matter how much I can logically remind myself that my connection with someone can both wax OR wane (because let's face it, interpersonal relationships with others can be confounding)....every time it happens, it's as if it's happening for the first time. It's like I have relationship amnesia.

There are those relationships where I feel connected to someone for a long time and then something happens and then one day it's just not there. I get depressed, wondering what the hell happened and if I will reconnect. Or if it's lost forever. Sometimes I wonder if I will connect with another human being as strongly as I did this person I just 'lost.' Then something strange will happen: A relationship I've had that has felt uninteresting and superficial will somehow morph into this beautiful thing, also from an abstract place I cannot comprehend. Instead of depression, a deep sense of love comes over me, almost euphoric.

Then there are others that are somewhere in between there, the most confusing of all. A particular relationship of this nature can be exhilarating, frustrating, satisfying, meaningful, twisted, seemingly fucked up in their own right, pleasantly unpredictable, unpleasantly unpredictable, and quite the paradox of normality. Yet, the minute people stop surprising me this way and evoking such emotion within me.....now THAT will be the real Twilight Zone.

Heroin addiction

I happened to catch this on Oprah tonight (it's also to be featured on ABC's Nightline at 11:30). A dangerously prevalent issue....one close to my heart (in the previous 3 years of work I did with heroin and opiate addicted individuals). I had to share this here on my blog. I tried to find actual video footage of either/both programs, but to no avail. If you find Oprah or Nightline and get a chance to watch tonight's episodes, please do. If not, I have attached the following informative article. Refreshingly, it doesn't sugarcoat drug addiction as Hollywood can tend to do; it's raw and very real. People need to be educated on this increasingly pervasive problem, the disturbing reality of heroin addiction.....

(Picture at left: The Richland County Sheriff's Department regularly confiscates drug paraphenalia from drivers who inject heroin on their way back from buying the drug in Columbus, Ohio. ABC News)

Pregnant and Addicted to Heroin

Expectant Mother Is One of Many Addicts in America's Heartland

By LISA LING and KATIE HINMAN
RICHLAND COUNTY, Ohio, Sept. 29, 2008

Merry Doerr has spent her whole life in the American farmbelt, a rural pocket of green tucked into the middle of Ohio. She's close to her family, living with her mother and 4-year-old daughter.

With her blond hair and blue eyes, Doerr embodies the classic American look -- and says she grew up with classic American values.

"When I grew up, my mom had raised me in Christian beliefs," she said, "and I knew ... right from wrong based on the Bible. I was a cheerleader. I had a lot of friends."

But life is different now. Doerr, who is five months pregnant and preparing for her second child, is not like other young mothers. She's a heroin addict.

"I wake up at 4 o'clock in the morning, dope sick with my stomach in cramps and sweating," she said, describing the symptoms of heroin withdrawal. "I have to get up out of bed at 4 o'clock in the morning, and go and use. And then I go back to bed and I wake up a few hours later and have to go use again."

Doerr said she uses heroin to keep that pain at bay.

"This is what I need to be normal," Doerr said. "You know I have to do dope every day to be normal. If I didn't have my dope this morning, I would be laying in bed right now thrashing around and vomiting. I wouldn't be able to function. I need [heroin] to function every day."

'Snowing Heroin' in Rural Ohio

It turns out that in the rural heartland of Ohio, halfway between the big cities of Cleveland and Columbus, heroin is everywhere.

"I would say it's up to epidemic proportions as far as the heroin," said Dane Howard of the Huron County Sheriff's Office. "Everywhere you go, it's like it's snowing heroin."

People here say heroin is indeed blanketing the main streets of tiny towns such as Plymouth, Ohio, where Doerr grew up. Doerr's mother, Patti Case, a schoolteacher, said so many people in their town of 1,800 were addicted to heroin that she moved her family, hoping to distance her daughter from the problem. But they found that the problem stretched across the region.

"There's probably not a family here, not just Plymouth but the surrounding area, that hasn't been touched by heroin," said Charlie Doan, chief of the Plymouth Police Department. "I think a lot of that started with Oxycontin."

In the mid-1990s, OxyContin, the highly addictive prescription pain killer, was being widely abused in rural communities like this one.

"About a decade ago, OxyContin got a strong foothold here in this whole region" said Howard. "The dealers drove the price up."

Cheap and Easy

As the street costs of OxyContin rose to about $80 per pill, drug dealers introduced heroin, which provides a similar high for less money.

"Nightline" heard the same story over and over from addicts who started on painkillers and ended up hooked on heroin.

"I started out snorting Vicodins or Percocets," said one former heroin addict, who now works as an undercover informant for local police. "[I] eventually went to Oxycontins .[Heroin] was a lot cheaper and a lot better high than the Oxys."

The informant is now clean and asked that his identity not be revealed.

He assists police by cooperating in undercover drug buys. "Nightline" rode along with him and the police to Columbus, about an hour and a half away, where he buys black tar heroin directly from what he and police say is a network of Mexican dealers.

"The guys I get it from sell it in what's called balloons," he said. "Some of the guys sell it in actual balloons, but the guy I'm getting it from today, he wraps it in tinfoil. They still call it balloons because that's the street name. Typically, people get seven to 10 of these balloons for $100, or $20 apiece."

He later slipped into the dealer's car, and bought $100 worth of heroin while driving around a leafy, residential neighborhood in broad daylight. The informant said when he was actively using drugs, he would make this trip at least once a day, buying enough drugs to support his own habit and also to sell to other heroin addicts in his town.

'It's Like a Plague'

Doerr has been making that trek to Columbus for years. In fact, when ABC News first encountered her in July, she had just come back from a trip to Columbus with her on-and-off-again boyfriend. They have been shooting up together since they were high school sweethearts in Plymouth, Ohio. He asked us not to reveal his name.

"I mean, when I'm not using drugs, I'm a totally different person," he said. "Really, I mean when I'm on dope it's just like, it twists me inside out, and I just become a totally different person. I'm ruthless, I'm conniving, I'm a cheater, I'm a liar I'm ..."

"A thief," Doerr chimed in.

He said, "It's become an epidemic," describing the heroin abuse in his hometown. "It's like a plague, seriously. People I went to school with are no longer around, dead [or] in prison." He said he knows 17 people who have died from using heroin.

Later, the two shoot up, mixing a hard chunk of heroin with water and boiling it down into a dark, brown liquid that filled their syringes. Doerr struggled to find a vein that hadn't already collapsed, and as she looked for one, she showed us the bruises that cover her body, evidence of her seven-year heroin addiction

But she said she wanted help. And soon after that, Doerr was treated at a Columbus hospital in a detox program specifically designed for pregnant addicts.

The hospital got her off heroin using the drug methadone -- which is accepted as a safe method for pregnant women, and their unborn children, to wean their bodies off a narcotic. But there is no methadone clinic back at home for her to maintain that treatment.

The next time "Nightline" met up with her, in August, she was shooting up again.

Doerr said she resorted to heroin because she can't quit cold turkey.

"It's like food to my baby," she said. "It's like food everyday. That's why I'm saying it has to have it everyday. Just like I do.

"The fact that I've been using for seven years, each time you get strung out and each time you go through detox it gets worse and worse," she says. "And the fact that I'm using, you know -- the amount that I'm using a lot -- I've cut back half of what I was using. I was using six balloons a day. Now I'm using maybe three."

Detox Facilities Hard to Find

Total detox, Doerr says, is unbelievably difficult.

"I might make it to the second day and I'm just spazzing out and panicking. And the second day I'm trying to find a fix. I can't do it," she said. "People say, 'Well, if you love your daughter, you will shape up.' It's not really a question of loving my daughter. I'm a mother. I love my daughter as much as any mother could love their daughter. It's a matter of loving myself enough and doing what I have to do, you know? It's not a matter of how much I love her."

Doerr often contemplates if her decision to raise Riley, her 4-year-old, was wise.

"Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't have given her up for adoption," she said, crying. "Because she has to see me come in and out of her life, and it's not fair. It's not fair. And it gets harder the older she gets. ... As a parent nobody wants that for their daughter."

Doerr's mom, Patti, has custody of Riley, and cares for her while desperately trying to find help for her daughter. But help is hard to find in the heartland.

Despite the rampant heroin abuse here, there is no detox facility in the entire county, meaning most addicts must wean themselves off of the drug at home. Experts say while heroin detox is painful, it's not usually dangerous in the way other drug withdrawals can be. So emergency rooms usually turn down heroin addicts looking to detox, because hospital supervision is rarely considered medically necessary.

For most addicts, staying clean after detox requires a long-term rehabilitation program. And many of those programs require insurance, something few addicts have. As a result, jails have become makeshift detox centers. "When I get out I'm going to try and stay off it," said one Richland County Jail inmate in Mansfield, Ohio. "Because this is the longest I've ever went without using it. I mean I've tried to quit several times but I never went past a week, if I even made it that long. I've been in here since June 4. It's been over two months." [This] is the longest I've ever been clean," said Sue Mills, another inmate who had been without heroin for eight days since getting into jail. "They don't have any methadone clinics here. They don't have needle exchange programs. You can't buy needles in Richland County. So it's a neverending cycle of sharing needles and hepatitis. It's just a nightmare."

It's a nightmare not just for the addicts but also for local law enforcement, which is overwhelmed by the crime heroin has brought to their communities. They've seen it affect all kinds of people. "It could be the person that you know played football in high school," Doerr said. "It could be the person next door. It could be, you know -- just everybody is strung out, you just don't know anymore. You hear everyday stories of, oh, this person, so and so is using drugs. You know mostly you hear about mothers talking to mothers, just so many of their kids. So many people my age are strung out. But even people my mother's age in their 40s are strung, too, it's caught them too."

'I Have No Life Right Now'

Doerr said she is desperate to break free of the grasp heroin has on her.

"I have no life right now," she said. "I try to maintain a halfway normal life where I go and get what I need and I come back and I take care of my daughter. But even now I'm not fully here.

"I am sick much of the time even when I have dope. I'm sick all the time. I sleep all the time," she said. "Seeing myself clean is not out of sight yet. [And] I can't lose that. If I lose that then I have nothing."

For information about how to help those suffering from drug addiction, please visit the Partnership for a Drug-Free America.

The grass is greener on the other side syndrome

I've definitely got a case of the-grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side' syndrome when it comes to city living. I find myself constantly measuring Seattle against the brilliance of Chicago. When am I going to accept that they are totally different cities? I'm still in denial because to admit it would probably make me more bummed than I already feel about this city right now. I'm trying really hard to give it a chance here, I really am.

Maybe it's the actual PEOPLE who live here that make this city not as juicy to live in as Chicago. I have heard of the Seattle freeze, but didn't really notice it as much until I started my job at the end of the summer. I have observed a standoffish quality to them, one of seriousness and lack of warmth and joviality. It's weird. And it's not because they are responding to my attitude because I will smile and say a friendly Hello or try to strike up conversations to get to know others better. They are closed off. It makes me uncomfortable.

I have heard you have to meet people here who aren't from Seattle. Funny enough, even the people I have met NOT from here are the same way. It's like if you live here long enough, you turn into a Seattle pod or something. If that's the way it is here, I have no desire to partake in that transformation of my personality. I'm not sure what to do. I know I haven't been here that long. In the overall scheme of things, the settling down process from moving out of state can take awhile. What I wonder is, what is the acceptable amount of time to give a new place a chance to grow on you and if it doesn't, reconsider where you want to live? I can't STAND moving (I need to be in one spot for awhile), so realize I am very serious when I say this.

Yesterday I pushed myself to check out the area of shops and restaurants in my neighborhood about a mile away from my apartment, something I've procrastinated doing because I would rather check it out with someone than by myself. It was a beautiful day and motivated to find a birthday present for my mom, out I went. I walked around for about 30 minutes and nothing really stood out to me. Sure, there were a few restaurants that smelled good and I'll be curious to try out sometime. But all I could do was get nostalgic about my old Chicago neighborhood. I never got sick of wandering around Lakeview on the weekends. Borders for my books. Bamee for my Thai food cravings. The indie movie theater in the Century Mall on Clark. Starbucks for coffee and some downtime to read, study, or hang out. The farmer's market on Broadway. So much more diversity and liveliness.

When I was about to walk into a thrift store yesterday, a woman on the other side of the door rudely told me they were closed. I apologized and walked away.

Luckily, I had a better experience around the corner at the eclectic Chocolate Cafe. That place was cool and had character. An alternative looking employee (aka lots of tats and piercings), dark colored walls (mauve-ish color I think), canvas paintings on the back wall (probably done by locals, I'm guessing), and a few tables in the same area where you could drink your beverage and enjoy the variety of delectable chocolate options.

Cliche as it sounds, it is SOOO true that you sometimes don't realize how much you love a person or place until it's gone. Hindsight. Ain't it a bitch?!

Saying what you mean and meaning what you say

How many people do you know say what they mean and mean what they say? More the exception than the rule? What happened to respect and genuine honesty? Not brutal honesty, but a caring honesty. I realize it's not always easy, but life isn't always easy. Does that mean you take the short cut to instant gratification at the expense of hurting someone else? I just don't understand.

People say "I didn't want to hurt you" or "I really care about you" but what do their actions say? Especially when one is putting oneself out there, the least the other person can do is reciprocate. It's not easy for either one to do, but one would think the scary uncomfortable risk of being vulnerable with each other would be worth the potential fulfilling 'reward' in the end: feeling truly known, seen, understood.....even if things don't turn out the way one or the other individual had hoped.

There have been so many times I have put myself out there with my feelings for someone and it's backfired. Of course it hurt, but in the end I know I expressed how I felt and what the guy did with the knowledge was up to him. The ball was in his court. That's not even what upsets me the most. I just read a blog my friend (KC) wrote about lies. It really struck a chord with me. I felt compelled to comment, which I did. I felt further compelled to then write about it here.

I was telling her how when I revealed my feelings to someone I cared about for SOOO long, he told me his job was his focus, blah blah blah. Didn't even tell me how he felt, whether negative or positive. That was his response, with mixed signals no less. Nice, huh? To this day, I still don't understand what's going on in that brain of his and whether I mean anything to him. We stay in touch superficially (I don't even know why. Maybe I'm not ready to let him go out of my life completely yet?), but there's no substance or intimacy there like I felt there was in the beginning when I met him.

I also found out recently that someone in my life has been lying to me and I just don't even know what to say to this person right now. I wish I could be unbiased and supportive, try to see from an objective standpoint. It's not possible, at least not now. A part of me is also feeling selfish about how this impacts my own relationship with him, like it's going to regress to the way it was years ago: distant and emotionally vacant. The lack of hope and optimism within me about this deeply saddens me.

It may sound sexist to say, but this is my blog and this is how I feel lately so I'm going to say what I mean and mean what I say.....

It seems to me that men have a harder time being emotionally genuine than women. I honestly believe that. I think there is truth to this gender stereotype. I can think of more examples of men being dishonest with their feelings (and giving mixed signals) than women. I'm proven right more than I'm proven wrong when it comes to men.

Will this honesty dynamic ever change? Is there hope for a world of emotionally mature men?

Scott and long distance friendships

Scott and I became friends while working at Borders in Chicago. I'm not sure exactly what year it was, maybe 2003 or 2004. I think I was working alot of 3-11pm shifts performing my usual bookseller duties on the second floor. This typically included hanging out at the art/photography section info desk alot. Scott worked the overnight shifts, collecting magazines and books that were left behind or getting things out on the floor from the stock room. His shift would begin as mine was nearing the end. There was always a surplus of magazines and other various items left behind in the section where I worked, which meant Scott wasn't far behind.

We would talk and laugh about nothing in particular, but never really had time to have lengthy conversations. Once in awhile we would take a lunch break together at the Italian deli across the street in the Hancock building. Over time, we would even hang out every few months to grab lunch, see a movie, or have a few drinks (more so after we no longer worked together). This was the extent of our friendship though, a relationship based on spontaneity and less on any mutual long term loyalty. Not to say this was a bad thing. I think we just didn't have any expectations of each other, in a good way.

I hung out with Scott a few times shortly before I was to move from Chicago to Seattle. I remember the second to last time I hung out with him being the most enjoyable time I've spent with him....probably ever. It was a Saturday morning towards the end of January. I had run some errands after work and Scott called to see if I wanted to hang out with him, in his usual spur of the moment way I like so much. I didn't happen to have any plans for the day and headed downtown. We had lunch at the aforementioned Italian deli/restaurant and talked about his contemplations to move out of state. In turn, I shared with him some recent confusion I was having about a few guys in my life. We ended up spending the whole day doing a bunch of spontaneous things after that. We saw "Cloverfield" at the movie theater, had a few drinks at a dive bar in the financial district downtown, and walked around the downtown area (including stumbling into an old, ornate chapel for a few minutes to listen to a man playing a harpsichord). All the while we talked....about everything. It wasn't until then that I realized how much I would miss Scott and certain things about the fabulous city of Chicago, a spontaneous day with a spontaneous friend for instance.

What I have always liked about my friendship with Scott is that he has interesting ideas, insights, and perspectives on just about anything...not to mention a great sense of humor. A great conversationalist is hard to find and I have always valued this quality in him, especially regarding topics other friends of mine might shy away from.

A few months after I moved to Seattle, Scott moved to North Carolina. He took a giant leap and was excited about the prospect. I, too, was excited for him.

Since his move, Scott and I have talked on the phone quite a bit the last 2 or 3 months. He had alot on his mind and I would listen. He was new to North Carolina and I was new to Seattle. Maybe talking to a familiar friend gave both of us some comfort, changing the dynamic of our friendship. Or maybe talking about things that have been difficult for us added a different element of intimacy to the friendship that wasn't there before. Maybe both. Whatever the case may be, I like the new dynamic that has evolved.

Scott has decided to move back to Chicago because things didn't turn out the way he thought they would, for reasons I won't go into here because I don't want to reveal his personal life in my blog. While talking on the phone with him tonight, I found myself asking him to promise me something. It was as if the words flew out of my mouth before I had a chance to realize why I would ask such a thing, why it suddenly became important to me. I wanted him to promise me that we will still talk on the phone (like we have been) even after he moves back to Chicago, to promise that he won't fall off the planet and become a stranger/someone I never hear from.

We started talking about his idiosyncrasies (that he's absentminded and wants me to 'pester' him if he forgets/doesn't call for awhile) and mine (that I don't like pestering my friends or coming across as a needy friend). This led to a conversation about friendships, particularly long distance friendships. He brought up an interesting and thought provoking question that I sometimes wonder myself. He told me that he has never really been the kind of person to maintain long distance friendships and that he isn't quite sure why he has kept a friendship with me now that we are no longer in the same city. He said this with an honest and sincere curiosity, something he wants to genuinely reflect on in his own time.

I remember learning in one of my undergrad psychology or sociology classes that there are different factors people consider when it comes to friendship and how long they last. One of the top predictors of a long term friendship is proximity, living in the same geographical area. So when I think about Scott's question of 'What am I getting out of a long distance friendship with (whomever)?".....I have to say I wonder why I continue some of my relationships as well.

I love my friends, but they live all over the United States. Realistically, how often will I be able to see them? I can go for years without seeing them, though not because I want it that way. It's just too expensive to travel and see all my friends. Some friends are best in person, some on the phone, some via email correspondence. Yet, all my friends (except Tracy because she lives...yup: near me again) live far away.

So what is the motivation behind long distance friendships?

Friendships are more than about going out for drinks on the weekend or engaging in superficial small talk to stay 'updated' on each other's lives. Near or far, friendships are about connection. Revealing the intimate details of oneself. Inside jokes and funny stories. Sharing in each other's joys, as well as one's pain. Philosophical ideas, goals, values, passions. Experiences and memories, shared or separate. People who love us for who we are, despite our idiosyncrasies. They see our potential and inspire us to reach it. The list goes on and on.

So when I think about why I continue to have long distance friendships without knowing the 'final' outcome or rationale, I just have to think of a friend like Scott and that's all the 'answer' I need.

A place to call my home

It's official: I signed the lease to my new apartment this afternoon! I'm beyond excited to have a place to call my own again, as well as the freedom to do whatever I want living alone again. I went to IKEA with my mom and my Aunt Su (who was in town visiting us for the weekend) after I signed the lease. I saw SO much stuff I wanted to get, but I also had a budget to consider and decided it would be best not to get overzealous with domestic purchases. That and the fact that I'm not good when it comes to putting things together. If it requires minimal steps and minimal tools, I can do it....but if there's any kind of map with numbers on the put-it-together process....forget it, I'll be lost!

I bought lots of little things: a toothbrush holder, a small garbage can, scissors, silverware, a plastic tray for the silverware, a small lamp and energy efficient light bulbs, a wide glass bowl to put some stones and/or tealight candles in, tealight candle holders, small pot set of 3, and a combination set of plastic containers (for food). I didn't think I bought that much and yet I still managed to spend about $60! Shopping for domestic items sure does add up! I'm having fun with this new home project though. I'm going to buy some curtains for my two windows once I'm able to move in and get measurements.

My goal is to eventually find 2 comfortable bar stools for the bar counter area near the kitchen, as well as a bookcase, a tv/dvd table (or whatever it's called), and a nice comfortable chair or small couch.

My aunt gave me a great idea as far as pictures for the walls too, something I probably wouldn't have considered. I was telling her and my mom how I don't think I want to keep my framed artsy type pictures. I have had the 2 Renaissance framed paintings and the 1 framed Paris photo since I was in college. I don't feel like it fits who I am now, like it's not an accurate reflection of "Katie." Su suggested I take some photographs of mine, blow them up and frame them on my walls. What a great idea!!!

I'm already thinking about which photos I might want to enlarge and frame. One definitely has to be of Chicago, I know that much. Hopefully I will have the original image sizes of whatever pictures I decide I want to enlarge, which reminds me readers.....are there any particular photos of mine that you really like and think would like great on the walls of my new home? Put them below in the 'suggestion box' (aka, leave me a comment here). :)

Michelle Obama speech

I watched the DNC speeches tonight. I don't think I've ever been so engrossed in any kind of politically driven speech before! I can confidently say I am a new fan of Michelle Obama. Wow, what an inspiring speech. Absolutely brilliant. How incredibly refreshing to see a strong, positive hard-working American woman speaking not only with intelligence, but with compassion and encouraging words for people of ALL walks of life. This is something that has been missing from the US system of politics, one that tends to be driven by fear tactics and segregating people by class, race, religion, economic status, ad nauseum infinitum. Cutting the bureaucratic red tape of personal agenda to one of truth and connection takes quite a courageous leap forward and Michelle Obama has done it!

Michelle Obama also got a hearty cheer from me when she gave a positive voice to the importance of addressing mental health in this country, a very near and dear passion close to my heart. I also have newfound respect for her community service endeavors. This woman from Southside Chicago makes me proud to be an American....a strong, hard-working American. Finally, someone who understands the determination and hard work that can come of pursuing one's dream the REAL way....no shortcuts or monetary handouts. She is a role model so many of us can learn from and only hope to emulate through her humanitarian actions and caring service to others.

Ted Kennedy said it best as well when he endorsed Barack Obama tonight by adding that the 'gridlock' needs to be demolished, making way for hope and change.

Rain's serenity

It has been raining off and on since late this afternoon. I might not feel the same way if I were outside out and about, but being at home while it's raining feels like being enveloped by maternal safety and comfort. I'm in a virtual rainforest. One night last week I enjoyed listening to the steady rainfall so much that I even went to bed without my earplugs (which I normally put in every night to block out external noise) because I wanted to fall asleep to the sound of rainfall. It was wonderful. It's weird too because I don't feel this way every time it rains. Maybe it's just those times when I'm feeling anxious that I appreciate it. In a weird way, it's like nature giving me a hug or something. I know, funny analogy.

Today, for instance....I was feeling overwhelmed thinking of all my responsibilities and demands others have of me, while also wondering how I can take care of myself in the midst of it all. I wasn't stressed out per se, just in deep thought. After completing things that needed to get done today, it began to drizzle. I decided to watch more of my Season One DVD of "Felicity," which I started last night. I was feeling nostalgic as I watched it, happy and sad at the same time. I remembered how much I loved watching the show in college (reminding me of my days at SWT, I cooking dinner and Nicole baking her famous chocolate chip cookies when we had our cooking/baking hangout nights and lots of other memories). I still feel myself identifying with the main character Felicity Porter, even watching the show many years later. As I watched four episodes, the rain poured down harder. I became more relaxed, quiet, and calm.

A few friends called me today and I felt a little bad for not calling them back to talk, but I just didn't feel like talking at all. Sometimes enjoying the silence takes precedence. Partaking in conversation deadens the power of rain's serenity somehow when in such a state of mind. I must admit, I also got a bit sleepy as I finished the last 10 pages of a book I was reading due to the effects of listening to the rain. I had a brief IM conversation with two friends on Facebook, the extent of any 'conversation' I had today. I then made some Indian food for dinner and poured myself a glass of Yellowtail Shiraz wine (one of my favorites that I haven't had in awhile) and here I sit writing this now.

I will be curious to see how I will feel about Seattle rainfall once fall (when it rains most frequently here) arrives. Last week one of my coworkers was saying that in October, she finds the rain makes her 'hibernate' at first and then after awhile she just gets used to it. I think I was the same way during Chicago's coldest times of winter, though I don't think I can say I ever really 'got used to it.' Hibernating has its perks though, I suppose. We'll see.

For now, the rain is mostly my serenity.

Where are you?

You may have noticed I haven't written anything on here in almost a week and a half. Something is going on with me. I haven't had a desire to write...at all. I don't like this feeling (or lack thereof) one bit, as I feel a piece of who I am is missing right now.

I write. It's what I do. So where has that part of me gone? The part of me that has a flash of insight, a creative desire, or contemplative inkling to explore a topic through writing has not been there. I miss it terribly, yet I don't know how to get it back. I could force myself to write, I realize. It's not the same though. Contrived writing is boring, lifeless. I want the PASSION for it back. I liken it to a relationship with a lover or spouse. When things 'click' and you feel a connection, it's a wonderful feeling and can even sustain you through the difficult areas of your life. When things feel complacent or 'off' somehow, you feel as if you have to re-examine what's going on in the relationship and what you can do to make it fulfilling and connected again.

My writing is my one true love. I am feeling sad and abandoned. Is my true love on strike? On vacation? Taking a nap? We all need breaks. Just please come back to me. Soon.

Intervention in the ER

I can't write in detail about what happened today (due to confidentiality reasons), but I have a need to write about it in a general sense.

After 3 good days of work last week where I was feeling more confident and competent, I was surprised with a psychiatric bombshell of sorts today. It started off a normal workday, boring even. I only had two appointments scheduled today. My first appointment didn't show up or call. That was at 11:00am. I wouldn't have another appointment until 2:00. My lunch time rolls around at noon. As I'm preparing my lunch in the microwave, the receptionist up front sees me and says I have a call that sounds urgent. Of course, 'urgent' is quite relative in community mental health and so I asked her if I could call whoever back in 10 minutes after I finished eating. She decided to transfer the call to someone else since I was busy. After I finished my lunch, R. comes into my office and tells me we have a crisis on our hands. I decide to cancel my 2:00 appointment.

R. got a call from a social worker at a nearby hospital saying that a client of mine was there due to suicidal ideation. I have only seen this client once about a week ago and the client did not seem suicidal at the time, so I wondered what was going on. I proceeded to talk to R. about the protocols for a situation like this, as I have never dealt with a suicidal client situation before. Honestly, the topic of suicide has always been an uncomfortable and intimidating one for me. I know as a therapist I am supposed to be comfortable with any kind of unpredictable crisis that may arise, but suicidal tendencies in people freak me out a bit. Maybe because I have a fear that if someone were suicidal and I had to intervene, what if nothing I said or did would save them from doing it, ya know? Fortunately, I had great supervision on this tough case today. Seeing as 1.) I didn't have a car to get to the hospital and 2.) I've never done a suicidal psych assessment at a hospital ER before....my supervisor and I went to the hospital together to see if this client needed to be admitted to the psych department there for further observation.

We get to the hospital and it's pretty nice for a hospital, seeing as I don't really like hospitals. They intimidate me. I guess because I equate them with more negative experiences for people than positive ones. Anyone who can work at a hospital has my immediate respect, because talk about total unpredictability and work stress! I must say though, it wasn't as dramatic as I had imagined in my mind once I was there. Most of my inner stress came from the fact that I had no idea how it was going to play out and the process of how to do this psych eval. I couldn't stop thinking about how grateful I felt to have my supervisor there. Anyway, back to what I was saying....

J. and I walk through the black striped doors of the ED (Emergency Department). We walk to the nurse's station and J. asks where we can find Client X. The nurse points to Room Y. My supervisor and I walk into the room. The client is sitting there watching CNN on the tv near the ceiling. We start talking to Client X (mainly J. was talking to the client), gathering more information on what led up to the suicidal ideation and need for (voluntary) hospitalization. J. and I were in there with Client X for about half an hour to 45 minutes. It was determined Client X was definitely in need of a psychiatric bed there in the hospital and I also made my own therapeutic recommendations for when Client X gets out of the hospital.

J. and I tell Client X that we have to call the county for hospital authorization (so the client would be approved for a psychiatric bed), but that we'll be back in a little while to let Client X know what's going on. J. tells me the next step is to find the psych bed coordinator guy (not sure his actual job title) to tell him what's going on and to see if a bed is even available if/when we get approval from the county. We chat with him for 5 to 10 minutes, then I go over to a nearby desk phone to call someone in county. I was quite nervous, but again, glad J. was by my side and prepped me with what kind of questions County Guy was going to ask. I also had the client's crisis plan info in front of me, as well as the info on psych meds and other stuff we gathered from X's eval. The call probably lasted about half an hour. County Guy was helpful and patient with me, as I sometimes had to cup my hand over the phone to ask J. certain details I was unclear about. County Guy got the number of the phone I was on and told me he would call me back shortly to let me know if a bed would be approved for the client or not.

J. and I hung out by the desk, talking for about 10 minutes about different court appearances and psych evals at hospitals she has had to do over the years while we waited for a call back from County Guy. As she shared her experiences, I secretly wished this to be the first AND last time I'll have to do something for a client in any kind of public sector. Seeing as I work in a community mental health setting, it's doubtful to impossible I won't face something like this again. Still, one can hope!

County Guy called back and granted authorization. We were good to go! J. and I let Client X. know a bed would be available in the next half hour and I was given the name of a discharge planner to talk with tomorrow.

I made it through my first ER crisis intervention.

Zone of comfort

The idea of 'comfort' can take different forms:

1. Physical comfort, such as: "This bed is incredibly comfortable. I could lay here for hours."

2. Mental comfort: "I feel comfortable talking to you; I can be myself with you."

3. Emotional comfort: That feeling of ease we have with people in our lives who we can fully express ourselves with...the good, bad, and the idiosyncrasies that distinguish us as unique individuals.

Physical comfort is the easiest to find. Mental comfort can be hard to find, but attainable. If you're really lucky, however, you'll find someone who provides 2-3 out of the 3.

I am reminded of one particular person who is within my zone of comfort, whether we have fun or do absolutely nothing at all.

Tracy and I go way back....well, 'way back' for me anyway: high school. Having moved around quite a bit throughout my lifetime, there are few friends I have known and been close to for longer than my college years.

Most of my close friends have only been around for 2 to 8 years. This may seem like a wide range of time for a long term quality friendship. Compared to how long I have known Tracy, however, it's a stark contrast. We have known each other almost 14 years.

We were in choir together. Worked at Randall's together. Hung out with the same crowd of friends. We have been there through hard times for each other. Know one another's dark secrets, strengths, and vulnerabilities. She knows more about my family than my other friends and I know quite a bit about hers. We sent each other cards and gifts when we lived far away. Visited her in college. Stood up for her in her wedding. Visited her when she lived in Portland and Omaha. And now....here we are, living near each other again after 14 years. I am beyond joyful. It's a bit surreal.

We spent today talking and laughing in her parent's living room. I had not seen her parents since her wedding 7 years ago and yet, it was as if it was just last week. Her parents are like my second family, and she like the sister I always wished I had when I was younger.

I'm not sure if it's partially because I've known her for half my lifetime (thus far); maybe there's a zone of comfort in that. She knows the high school me, the college me, the Chicago me, and the present Seattle me. She's seen different facets of me over the years, I guess is what I'm trying to say.

On my way home tonight, we (Tracy, Justin and I) were talking about who we were back in high school as opposed to now. Aside from the degree of our impulsivities, we reflected on the fact that we aren't that much different (essentially) now than we were back then...in a good way.

Change is a constant given in life. A true zone of comfort, however, is that which is constant in the midst of change. For me, her name is Tracy.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G"

Callie received her first kiss from Vinnie, a boy she had been dating for a few weeks. She was 16 years old. They had gone to see a movie and now they were sitting in his car in her driveway. It was a dark and quiet summer night, slight humidity in the air. He opened the car door for her and walked her up to the back door of the house, lingering near the gate. Both nervously anticipated this moment, palms sweaty and heart beating fast. He kissed her and she felt warm and tingly all over, something she had never experienced before...and would never experience again. It was her first kiss and though it wasn't her last, it set the bar for how a first kiss with someone should be.

Two years later, Callie locks eyes with a guy at the grocery store. He has a great smile and a fit body. She can't tell how old he is, but she has a feeling he's older than her. Eye contact and smiles leads to a date. She discovers he is seven years her senior, had been in the military, and tells her he's from Michigan. For their first date, they go see a depressing Sally Field movie. They don't watch much of it though; they are too busy kissing. She is torn. She likes Eric, but he's not the best kisser. Still, she's optimistic that she can 'teach' him to be better and give him a chance. After the movie, they anticipate a romantic dinner at Steak N' Ale. It's Valentine's Day. Too crowded and too hungry, Callie and Eric opt for the lesser romantic ambiance of IHOP. The more he talks, the more socially inappropriate he seems to her. But she tries to be open-minded. After all, she has flaws too. The meal is decent. They head to the car. Smashing Pumpkins' "1979" is playing. He starts to kiss her. Except his idea of kissing involves licking her face. Callie feels like she's a cat in need of a cleaning. Where did this 'man' learn how to kiss? Or rather, has he ever kissed anyone before her? This marked the end of her interest and intrigue with Eric. He stalked her for a few weeks, even though she avoided him at all costs. Callie cringes whenever she hears "1979," which is sad because it's not the Pumpkins' fault.

Callie wasn't even in love with Vinnie or Eric. Nor was she in love with Drew when she kissed him seven years later. What was she thinking when she dated Drew?

When she was 20, she had an unexplainable kind of love thing for her friend Ted. She vaguely remembers kissing him. She had too much alcohol the first time they kissed and her memory is hazy. She remembers they were hanging out at her house after work; her birthday was around the corner. It was the best birthday present she received that week. It was something she wanted and never thought she'd get.

Callie liked winter. It was a season that agreed with her, especially when it came to her luck with guys. It wasn't as if they flocked to her or anything, but winter seemed to give her magical luck in this department. She met Rick through a friend. Even though he was a bit younger than her, Callie found herself very attracted to him. She wasn't sure what it was about him, as he really didn't fit her usual 'type.' Rick wasn't at all bookish, but he liked helping people. And he was kind, a gentleman. They talked, flirted, and laughed alot. She knew nothing would come of their spending time together; he didn't even live in the same zip code, the same state. But Callie wanted to kiss him. She kept trying to give him hints. Guys are rarely good with the hints though, so they drank more beer and she kept thinking hopeful thoughts. Early evening turned into late evening, late evening turned into the wee hours of the morning. They were standing in his kitchen and this time it was she that didn't pick up on the hints. And then she saw the magnet suggesting a kiss and kiss, he did. A kiss that blew her out of the kitchen.

Callie meets Adam. She doesn't like him at first, thinks they have absolutely nothing in common. She almost ignored his eagerness to get to know her more. Callie didn't have any particular interest in a guy who was so much younger, he could have been her brother. But he was kind and seemed sincere, maybe even a little lonely. They exchanged letters, what you might call an old fashioned kind of 'courtship' reminiscent of a different era. Even though they were very much opposite in some ways, Callie was drawn to him. She couldn't justify her growing feelings. The stronger her feelings, the more Adam confused the hell out of her. It seemed like he liked her too, but his actions didn't always show it. The first time they met, he gave her a warm hug and bought her a cup of coffee. The second time they met, he bought her a beer. The third time they met, he was about to leave the country. She got her wish, his kiss. Too bad it felt more like a parting gift. Bittersweet.

Callie goes out with the girls for some dancing and drinks. It's not even Christmas, yet she is amused when she spots a guy across the bar...."Santa Clause." Shortly after they make eye contact, Santa approaches Callie and they flirt while his sidekick "Rudolph" checks out Callie's friend, Amy. Callie teases "Santa" for his seasonal getup, laughing and chatting him up. As the hours pass, Callie goes to pay the tab and can't find the cash that had been in her pocket. Freaking out, Callie rechecks her pocket and desperately searches the dancefloor around her. The money is gone. Seeing Callie in distress, "Santa" rescues her by generously offering to pay the $50 bill. Callie is astounded. Perhaps "Santa" does indeed keep track of those who have been naughty and nice, as Callie has just been karmically rewarded. "Santa," "Rudolph," Amy, and Callie decide to go to another bar; they don't want the night to end yet. Callie and "Santa" dance. Callie is wearing his hat, they kiss. And kiss. And kiss. She has never felt so much lust in a kiss as she felt kissing "Santa Clause" that night.

Callie still has the hat.

Are you getting any?

Most people want it, but they're just not getting enough. Some aren't getting it at all. And I'd venture to say that these same individuals have tried everything they can think of to get it.

No, not sex! .....SLEEP!

What's going on?! More and more, I'm hearing various people (from family and friends, to clients I counsel) that they just can't sleep. I feel like I know more people that can't sleep than ones who can. A growing epidemic?

I don't include myself in the insomniac category. Sure, I have nights where I toss and turn....but it's nothing serious that occurs on a regular basis.

It concerns me that something as natural as the biological need for sleep has become a nuisance and a dread rather than a pleasurable and much anticipated 8 hour escape from the daily grind. Sleep plays a crucial role on our overall mental, emotional, and physical well-being. How does a lack of sleep affect one's psyche?

Ok, so I lied about my not having had a sleeping problem. It's not a problem for me now, though it was until fairly recently. I considered it situational, due to my work schedule at my previous counseling job in Chicago. I was waking up at 4am. Horrible, horrible hours! I can definitely say I noticed a difference in how I felt during the almost 3 years I was getting less sleep than I am now.

My memory was not as sharp. I was restless and prone to anxiety/stress more easily. I drank too much coffee to compensate for my sluggish sleep deprivation. I didn't feel as energetic and enthusiastic, the carefree Katie kind of personality people were accustomed to seeing prior to this lack of sleep mode. I also noticed my eating habits weren't the greatest and my desire to exercise had decreased. All in all, the aspect of sleep in my life became detrimental and all-consuming....which is why I can only imagine living with insomnia as a long term lifestyle cannot bear healthy results.

What I'd like to know is: why are so many people experiencing non-sleep symptoms and what can be done to help rectify the issue?

Aside from external reasons (ie, work, not feeling well, distracted by loud noises,etc), does one's mental health play a key role in determining a consistent and appropriate amount of sleep for an individual? In other words, with a little help and awareness of what keeps our mind 'on,' can we eventually discover a successful way to shut it 'off?'

Speak up, insomniacs! I know you're not sleeping, so why not utilize all those restless hours by responding with your own reflections on the subject? :)

Growing up in the 80's: 'Latch Key' and scare tactics

In an email today, a friend of mine mentioned a particular fear he has and I asked him where that fear stems from. He chocked it up to his having been a 'latch key' kid growing up.

For those not familiar with the predominantly 80's coined phrase, 'latch key' kids were those who came home from school to an empty house (hence, they needed a 'key' to get in the house because their parents weren't home) and/or a semi-reliable babysitter to supervise the child while said parents were at work. Sometimes a 'latch key' kid could be an effect of workaholic parents. In most cases, it was the result of single parenthood. In my case, it could have been a little bit of both.

Of course, in 2008 it is not abnormal. The term has likely become obsolete in the face of 'nontraditional' households where it's more abnormal for parents to be home than not. But keep in mind, this was the 1980's. Divorce and blended families were not as commonplace as they are today. Back then, such atypical events could even sometimes be perceived as scandalous, borderline taboo.

I'm not sure the story behind my friend's 'latch key' experience growing up. If it was at all like mine, one thing is for certain. The common denominator was: FEAR. "Don't take any stickers from anyone!" my grandmother would tell me. Why? Well, if you have to lick the back of the sticker for it to work...it just might well be LSD! I think I was 9 or 10 years old when my grandmother used that scare tactic on me.

Then there was the kidnapping craze. I was living in New Hampshire at the time, but I'm pretty sure it was a nationwide 'epidemic.' Kids were seemingly 'snatched up' everywhere you turned (aka, sensationalized on the news). Parents became hyper-vigilant, doing whatever they could to ensure safety. For my mother, it was the 'stranger' book (bless her heart, she meant well). Did anyone else get one of these in the 80's?! This was the scariest book I've ever encountered in my life thus far. I'm not exaggerating whatsoever!

I wish I still had the book now, as a 30 year old woman. It would be funny to see just how 'scary' it is to my 30 year old eyes versus that of a 7 to 9 year old. The front cover of the book is still embedded ever so vividly in my mind. The title escapes me (although I want to say it was something like "Never Talk to Strangers") but here's the cover: A black and white photo of an 8 year old-ish boy with dark hair. He's holding an ice cream cone, in mid lick as he stares back at the reader with a serious, yet unsuspecting look. See what I mean? Creepy.

Within the book were different hypothetical scenarios of the various manipulative tactics evil strangers use (or what we in the psych field like to term 'grooming' which is even more smarmy sounding if you ask me), to lure innocent children into their car and/or far far away from the latch key land that is their home.

One scenario might be little Susie walking home from school. A middle aged man in an Oldsmobile slowly pulls up (always with no one else around, of course) to Susie, whom has a Strawberry Shortcake backpack on her back. His window is down because it's summer and this was before automatic buttons were standard features offered in cars. Middle aged man leans over and says something sweet to little Susie. Somehow, candy always seems to be the luring device. When did kids start acting like mice who salivate at the prospect of sweets? Anyway, so the story goes. You can see where this is going.

I guess it wasn't the bogus scenarios presented in the book that scared me most. It was the mock pictures that freaked me out. I think they even induced some nightmares. I don't know why the pictures bothered me more. Maybe they made the concept more real of a possibility in my youthful imagination.

As if stepping off the school bus, walking home alone and into an empty house isn't scary enough for a young child.....adding scary 'strangers' to the mix just invites a future anxiety disorder for an 80's child!

At what point does a psychoeducational tool like warning your child about the perils of 'evil' people out there or 'bad' stickers do more harm than good? I wonder.

I especially wonder how many other children of the 80's experienced something similar. Do share, but don't scare. :)

Guy OF my dreams? No, just guys IN my dreams.

I woke up this morning remembering a dream about yet another guy (this is the second night in a row) I know. The first dream (the night before last) was of a slightly sexual nature, about a friend of mine. In the dream, he had wanted to sleep with me and I told him I didn't think it was a good idea because we're friends. Apparently, I changed my mind by the end of the dream. Hahaha. I actually told this friend about my dream yesterday and we had a good laugh. This second dream (last night), however, was just as odd. I only remember bits and pieces, so I'll do my best in writing about it here. I was at some kind of social gathering. Wandering around, I glanced behind me and there was my ex-boyfriend Andrew (some of you readers may recall his name from a few of my much older blog entries, where I was angry that I had run into him on my early morning CTA commute in Chicago a few times in the past year....that's who I'm talking about!).

The way I began talking to him in my dream felt SO real, great even! At first I was cordial, not wanting to ruffle any feathers. But within minutes, I became confrontational in almost a combative way. He acted as if we had been pals for years, it having conveniently 'slipped' his mind how disrespectful he has been. It was funny to hear myself call him an asshole in the dream. He was shocked to hear me say anything that a 'bitch' (aka, a woman who speaks her mind!) might say. Surely Katie is too 'nice' for that. Ha. Anyway, I reminded him of the times he simply ignored me on the bus and didn't even say 'hi,' as if I was a total stranger he didn't even know, date, etc. At first, he got defensive. But then he realized those (and other things) were jackass-like actions. I should have known I was dreaming, as this never would happen in 'real life.' hahaha

I've noticed between these dreams and what's been going on with certain challenges in my life this past week....there is a common thread: speaking my mind, asserting myself. While I have grown more comfortable with honesty and standing up for myself/expressing how I feel about someone or a situation in an appropriate way, it can still provoke anxiety. You don't know what will happen if you choose to really let it all out with what you need to say, hence the anxiety and risk. Yesterday I had to be completely honest with my supervisor about something and while the problem hasn't gone away, I feel better having her know where I'm coming from. What she chooses to do with the revelation is up to her, just as it is with the guys IN my dreams. :)

The psychology of impressions

It is said that you never get a second chance to make a first impression. But don't you get a chance to make fluctuating impressions? I have been thinking about this today.

While first impressions can definitely hold considerable influence, how often does the image we present (a la 'the first impression') truly reflect who we are deep down? Think about the different kinds of impressions we can possibly make through our interactions with others in a given day: on a job interview, on a date, with family and friends, with colleagues, and with strangers in any number of social scenarios. That's a helluva lot of impressions (!), and I would venture to say that they will not all be the same.

It's not a good or bad thing, it just depends on the context of the situation. Perhaps it also depends on our body language/nonverbal communication (which, if you didn't know actually accounts for 75% of what we communicate to others!), as well as taking into account our comfort level, personality (introvert vs. extrovert), and personal psychological history (my PC way of saying our 'issues,' challenges, insecurities,etc...hahaha). Then there's the factor of whether one is genuine and open, or distrustful, superficial. Or whether the person you meet (and vice versa) reminds you of someone else you've known, for good or bad. It's no wonder we question how well we really know someone.

With so much mis-communication going on in the efforts to express ourselves and leave any kind of 'impression,' in retrospect we sometimes sabotage ourselves from demonstrating the best impressions. When this occurs, we attract what we didn't want or not attract what we truly DO want...especially in regard to important relationships. What impression, or vibe, are we giving off?

For me personally, there have been people I have met whom I liked right away without any logical reason to explain it. Maybe those were the individuals that gave off a likeable aura of genuineness, kindness, and confidence within themselves.

Then there are those who I have not liked at first because they seemed guarded, rude, uninterested,etc. Time will go by, and one day they show me a different side.....the impression has fluctuated, and it drives me with a deep curiosity to get to know them more to find out which impression is the most representative of the person.

I've also experienced people who are the most complex of all, for these interesting characters fall somewhere in the middle. For example, one guy I know was very kind and attentive when I first met him. A sincere and fairly open person, over time became flaky, aloof and like a chameleon. He can still be kind and is definitely a friendly, likeable person, but there's something I can't pinpoint about the impression he leaves on me. And it's not a good thing. On the other hand, I love it when I don't like someone at first and one day after talking with them about something on a deeper level (or at least one of a certain comfortability), I suddenly respect and like the person. It can be that instantaneous for me. Is that bizarre?! Is it just me that feels this way with people at times? Well, I have never claimed to be normal!

It would be cool if there was a way to discover all the different impressions we give out in various contexts, like an experiment or survey of some sort. It would be interesting to see if overall, impressions from various sources were consistent or contradictory. Once in awhile, someone will tell me the impression they have had of me and it usually just makes me laugh. I've gotten anything from 'shy' to 'distant/guarded,' 'approachable,' 'prissy,' 'sweet,' and 'demure with an edge' (yeah, I don't know about the prissy and demure with an edge ones....both were from people I worked with at one time, hmmm....). My favorite, by far, was from a client I had very briefly at my last counseling job, whom made a comment about me having the a face like "Shirley Temple" (good/angelic) and her belief that surely I had no skeletons in MY closet. HA!!

Surprisingly (or not surprisingly, based on my theory), none of the observed impressions are totally accurate. Sure, there may be some degree of truth in each impression, but not a strong indicator of me overall. I don't think it's because I'm trying to hide anything though; it has to do with context. Interestingly though, these days I find myself acting more or less the same in 90% of situations (the exception being my work environment with counseling and coworkers, as you might understandably imagine why). I wonder if it's due to yet another factor to take into consideration: age. With maturity and wisdom, comes ease. There is less of a tendency to feel self-conscious or to give a shit about how others perceive you. Not to say that you will act badly or in a hostile manner; you're just more liberated and self-aware of who you are as a person.

And what we think and feel about ourselves is the ultimate and only impression that truly matters.

Am I meant to be a therapist 'forever?'

I have been thinking about this off and on the past 24 hours. In an IM conversation with a friend last night, I was telling him how I don't think I could be a therapist for the rest of my life because I don't think I have the patience for it. Today, however, I realized it's not about an issue of patience. It's about an issue of independence, not to mention the time and energy for 'me' time.

I made somewhat of a spontaneous decision/goal for myself today and in a weird way, it gave me a sense of reassurance. Having just finished my SECOND day of my new counseling job, I already feel inundated with information and responsibilities, overwhelmed by the magnitude of this new role assigned to me. I know it's partially because I'm new and have SO much to learn as far as the computer program, daily operations, and learning all the requirements of caseload management. I realize alot of my anxiety will subside once I get in the swing of knowing what the hell I'm doing, but what if the bogged down feeling never goes away?

Agencies seem to be notorious for giving you more than you can reasonably (sanity wise) handle....because they can. It's like working at the bottom rung of a ladder: you don't have much power to be selective. You're forced to take what they give you and hope you don't fall prey to burnout. You know it's bad when you wish you could clone yourself, just so you can feel a relief that everything you need to do will get done.

See, being a therapist at an agency isn't just counseling. People typically tend to perceive counseling in the stereotypical ways portrayed in tv shows and movies. Scenes of therapists who have their own private practice office with posh couches where the client easily and effortlessly vents about their problems as the therapist (who is usually wearing glasses, I guess to look 'scholarly?') says some cliche' phrase whilst pensively waiting for the client to have some kind of insightful moment/say something pivotal. Ha! I wish it were that easy and simple sometimes!

What people don't know and/or understand is that there's case management bullshit that comes along with the job. Plus, the clientele aren't always the cream of the therapist's dream crop. They too are usually at the bottom rung of the ladder. I've learned that the saying 'you get what you pay for' couldn't be more true......

which is why I've decided that I am giving myself 2-3 years to figure out a clever way to get myself a job working independently (once I'm licensed, I plan on researching this top to bottom!) in a private practice setting.

If I do not, I have determined that I will reconsider my career path. Shocking? Not to me. Why? Because there is more to life than identifying myself with my work and I refuse to become a burnt out slave with no life outside of work (aka, a cranky and unhappy human being) and/or too exhausted to do anything but work. And I see that being a possibility if I don't somehow get the hell out of the agency arena.

I'm not sure what else I could do for work. I enjoy writing, but I don't know how I could turn that into a career...unless I became a journalist or write a book. Hmmm, any suggestions?

On a positive note, I do like the other therapists at work. It's weird to go from working independently (like at my last job) with my own office to a group setting of sharing one big office with 6 or 7 other therapists), but it is nice to have other therapists to talk to nearby. They (along with the receptionist) have been very kind and helpful with all my slightly frazzled questions and seem interested in wanting to get to know me too, which has been comforting.

I have my first session tomorrow. I'll be curious to see how it goes and as time goes on, how the clientele at this agency compare/contrast to those I worked with at my previous job (if they will be easier to work with, more difficult, or about the same). This factor may also influence how much I will enjoy this job.

When I found myself starting to get stressed out today (about all the shit I have yet to get done), I reassured myself that I am only one person and certain things take priority over others. Whatever I won't do today, will be there waiting for me on my desk tomorrow. Because it stays there. I don't take work home with me and I will not make it a habit of staying later than 5:00.

And that's the way it's gonna be. :)