"Be careful" they say

Do you notice how when you're about to take a plane trip or about to go/do anything remotely "risky", others will say things to you like, "Be careful" or "Have a safe flight/trip?" While intentions are all well and good, how much control do we have over bad things from happening? Are such phrases merely a way of reassuring each other that nothing bad could possibly happen to you or me....that only bad things happen to "other" people? What if those "other" people ARE us?

Over the past week, there have been two attempted sexual assaults and one rape in the vicinity of my neighborhood. The woman who had been raped had been approached from behind as she approached her apartment after a night out with friends. The other two women who were almost assaulted managed to fight off the attacker because they had pepper spray. Now, I'm not one to live in fear and not live my life because crime occurs. What concerns me, however, is the fact that I have a very early morning commute. I walk out my door at 5:15am. I bought pepper spray shortly after I started my job two years ago, but after I got accustomed to my early morning routine I stopped carrying it with me. I felt that as long as I used common sense with an awareness of my surroundings (specifically observing people walking ahead, around, and behind me), I would be ok. I do believe alot of stuff can be prevented by using common sense, but I also feel that as a woman, I am still somewhat vulnerable.

The whole well-meaning "Be careful" doesn't give me any consolation when I'm walking outside by myself off and on during my commute to work. And it's not like I have a choice about going to work. If it were a matter of choosing whether I'm going to stay out late drinking with friends and stumbling home at 2am,etc....yes, THAT I can choose not to do.

So, what else can a woman do to protect herself from physical harm? Aside from buying a new thing of pepper spray (I think mine expired....how long do they even last? I have no idea!), I have chosen not to listen to my music while I'm waiting for the bus across the street from my apartment that early in the morning. I think I'm also going to start taking a cab from my apartment to the train on Saturday mornings when I cannot take the bus so I don't have to walk the 12 minute walk down my street that early. I remember in college my friend Nicole and I took a Self-Defense class as one of our exercise class credits. I thought it was one of the best, practical classes I could have taken in college. I remember learning alot of techniques to ward off an attacker, but that was about 8 years ago. I'm not sure how much I remember now, when I need it most here in the big city.

I don't need any reassurance in my writing this blog. I just had to write about it because it's been on my mind off and on this past week and writing always helps me to sort through my thoughts on things. Sadly enough, the only thing that gave me perspective was a thought I had this morning as I was making my breakfast in the kitchen here at work. I thought about how many people live in fear and the threat of potential violence EVERY DAY of their lives, something that to them is as frighteningly natural as breathing air....women in other countries who could be raped, beaten, and/or murdered by their own husbands, neighbors,etc.. In those instances, they are pretty much powerless.

I am lucky to at least have the resources to keep myself as safe as possible. With pepper spray and a street smart approach, all I can do is walk confidently into the start of my day.

Older blogs

In case readers are wondering, no, I did not write 20 blogs in one day. I'm not THAT ambitious. Hahahaha. I took some older blogs I have written in the past year to post on here. I wanted to give my site some "juicy" stuff so it didn't look like "the bare minimum" (like in "Office Space," I needed to give my site some "flare"....hehehe).

Anyway, I was trying to figure out how to archive all the blogs, but I'm still trying to figure things out. All in due time..

"Six Feet Under" Marathon (posted 4/3/06)

I spent a majority of Friday and Saturday evening glued to my tv, watching the final season of the most phenomenal show ever and my favorite drama: "Six Feet Under." It is one of the few shows that once I start watching, I cannot stop. There are few shows that can successfully pull off an intricate, meaningful storyline chocked to the brim of elements that truly demonstrate many facets of the human condition. These include love, compassion, humor, anger, sexuality, grief, fantasy/dreams, belonging, escapism, death/mortality, birth, regrets, fear, and hope. Wow! No wonder tears would occasionally well up in my eyes. I may be a sensitive individual, however, I'm not one to cry/get emotionally involved with a tv show/movie very easily. It is the overall stirring of various emotions that gets to me. When you feel like you're right there with the character, thinking and feeling as they do or relating to him/her in some way from something similar you have experienced in your own life....

One of my favorite characters dies in the third to very last episode. I won't say who, for those of you who have not seen it yet. I don't want to ruin it for you. I was in utter shock, but also impressed by the realism. SFU does not sugar coat anything. What you see is what you get, especially in depictions of death and how we grieve.

I've always had a peculiar fascination with death, ever since I took a "Studies in Death and Dying" psychology class my sophomore year in undergrad. Reflecting back, I still regard it as one of the most life-enhancing classes I have ever taken. I had to write my own obituary and contemplate controversial issues most people find ways to avoid discussing, let alone even think about. Why is death so private and morbid? We all do it eventually.

One would think that maybe by embracing thoughts and feelings on both life and death, one would then be liberated to a more meaningful and "seize the day" kind of existence. I had this dialogue with one of my clients this morning, as a matter of fact in our counseling session. I framed it in a positive way, however, my client just went on to say "But I'm lazy." I guess it all comes down to our overall outlook on life....

Choosing Your Death (posted 6/14/06)

I just started reading Dostoevsky's "The Idiot" the other day....an almost 600 page novel. Yes, I know....what am I getting myself into with such an undertaking? I've always been an avid reader, but classics extending to the 400+ pages always seem to intimidate me for some reason. I feel like I am forcing myself to make a long-term commitment to the book. Am I secretly a commitment phobe? Ok, getting sidetracked. Enough about my issues, back to the book. The fact that within the first thirty pages Dostoevsky draws you in to a character's psychological world makes my commitment anxieties nearly dissipate.

One of the guys, Myshkin, gives this monologue about what would be a more worse fate: 1.) to be somewhat of a witness to your own execution (along with countless others gawking at you as the public spectacle, as it was back then) but knowing what is about to happen....OR 2.) to be walking along in the woods one night (cause we all walk alone in the woods on a regular basis ) and someone unexpectedly comes up behind you to slit your throat. Now, I know what you must be thinking. Neither choice sounds all that appealing, the equivalent to the choices offered in the outlandish game "Would you Rather..?", but it does pose some philosophical ponderings. One's answer to the question may also demonstrate as a projective tool of sorts if you think about it. If you say you'd rather go with the guillotine because you'd rather know what's about to happen to you, maybe you're a control freak or a passive participant in the choices you make in life. Or if you go with the woods scenario, maybe you thrive on the unexpected, taking risks, and the possibility that you could change your fate (there's a possibility of getting away from the perpetrator who's trying to slit your throat, but chances of running away from a guillotine...not so much!) These are just a few thoughts and certainly there are many more to contemplate.

I personally would choose the woods/slit throat route and not just for the psychological possibilities I listed above. Here are my reasons: 1.) I hate being the center of attention/on "center stage" so to speak 2.) I'm creeped out by the mere idea of a guillotine 3.) I'd like to think I have a decent amount of common sense to escape the throat slitting bad guy(or girl, don't want to be sexist). I took self-defense in college and I remember kicking some ass back then. I've still got it in me somewhere! 4.) I'm more a private person and would rather die in the woods than in a public/"criminal" way. 5.) Dying in the woods at the hand of a possible maniac (who I probably know, as most violent acts are committed by people we know folks, scary, but true!) is better than being killed in a harsh, "removed" way with people staring and standing in judgment over your impending doom.

I don't know...that's just me. But I'm a weirdo. What would you choose?

Mental health as a social problem (posted 9/8/06)

The other day I went to a seminar for work and one of the speakers mentioned that in recent news, some colleges are currently expelling students for suicide attempts. I further read an article in the paper yesterday that provided me with more information to be even more disgusted. Apparently, a 19 yr old student overdosed on pills, but called 911 before it was too late. When she returned to her dorm after the attempt, the lock had been changed and she had been asked to leave for violating her housing contract! WTF? Here are some excerpts worth noting:

"Policies barring potentially suicidal students from dorms have popped up across the country in recent years as colleges have struggled to deal with an estimated 1,000 suicides a year. But some of those rules have come under legal attack."
"College officials say such expulsions are not punitive; At George Washington University in D.C., spokeswoman Tracy Schario said the idea is to give suicidal students a break from the stresses of university life and encourage them to seek help."
"But some activists suspect such evictions are an attempt by colleges to avoid legal liability if someone commits suicide in the dorms."

This infuriated me, yet I wasn't altogether shocked. Why? As a mental health professional, I continue to observe the stigmas, judgment and backlash from society whenever we hear about individuals struggling with various mental health issues. Instead of being supportive and concerned about an individual's well-being and how that individual affects and is being affected by their social environment, society tends to contribute to the symptoms of the underlying problem.

In some cases, colleges are sending students home to get help. How do they know that the individual's family life isn't part of the problem? Society is consumed by a "one-size-fits-all" model. While this may work for a few select aspects of human affairs, mental health is not one of them. The graduate training I received in counseling psychology emphasizes a strong need to meet the person "where he/she is at." What may work for one person, may not work for another. Focusing on the uniqueness of the individual, especially in periods of distress (depression, suicide,etc), is extremely essential. A positive, strong support system is also crucial.
In many instances, it may be the family....then again, it may not. The key to suicide prevention is awareness of what is going on in the lives of our loved ones and being compassionate enough to intervene when he/she needs someone to be present in what seems at the time, endless anguish. I am lucky to say I haven't personally known anyone close to me who has committed suicide, however, I cannot even begin to list how many people I know that have grieved over such a devastating loss.

With the help of counseling programs on campus, as well as a supportive social environment (including the school), there may be hope for preventing the tragedy of suicides on college campuses.

As long as the current mode of thinking persists, however, mental health issues will remain a social problem.

Sense of community and endurance (posted 10/23/06)

I just had to share an unexpected experience I had yesterday. It's funny, when I think about it, my whole day yesterday was a series of one spontaneous experience after another. I'll only be sharing one of them here though. ;)

Yesterday morning I had the pleasure of observing the annual Chicago marathon at full throttle, practically right outside my door step. What started out as me wanting to take a stroll around the neighborhood to get a cup of coffee in the blustery cold morning turned into getting sidetracked the minute I walked out of my apartment building a little after 9:30am. I "detoured" to the end of my street and stood there amidst thousands upon thousands of dedicated runners. Some were wearing shirts with their names proudly emblazoned across their chest, others in more humorous attire like wigs and Halloween costumes. Then there were those that were just barely truckin' on at a snail's pace, but the drive was still there.

Although I didn't know anyone that ran by me as I stood freezing my ass off along the sidelines, the sense of community it instilled within me over the course of the half hour I was there was somewhat perplexing, a bit awe-inspiring. They were running a total distance of 25 miles or so to begin with, but the fact that it was bitterly cold...well, I thought they were brave for enduring the elements! I'm beginning to think it is true: Chicagoans are not wimpy people when it comes to weather! Haha. At one point, an older man who looked to be in his sixties, was clad in a tank top and shorts. I smiled at him as he joked around with a few cheering people that were standing beside me. "Why aren't you wearing a hat? It's cold out here! he exclaimed to me. The irony made me chuckle. As he ran past me, the back of his tank top read "Cancer Survivor." Rock on dude. Props to the seventy something year old man I saw running along too. Fucking awesome.

I headed back down Belmont and walked down Broadway, more of the same runners I saw just twenty minutes ago. Blasting music, friends and families gathered with their hot coffee to support the runners, lots of happy dogs tugging away from the restraint of their leashes. The whole thing was giving me a contact high and I started to feel a little crazy, an urge to be running along with them. It subsided of course (haha), but the people watching, sense of community, and motivation in motion was an amazing testament to the inspiring aspect of the human condition.....

How would you want to be remembered? (posted 11/10/06)

How often do you tell yourself "someday I'm going to see/do/experience _______." We have a tendency to go about our daily lives with some future goal in mind, often failing to take advantage of where we are in the moment. Rushed and harried by work obligations, crossing things off our "to do" lists, and fulfilling other life roles assigned to us doesn't always leave much room for things that are just as, if not more, important. Appreciating beauty, seeing the humor in nearly any situation, seizing the day ("Carpe Diem"), and recognizing one's own mortality....just a few examples of what you're missing out on if you don't take the time to smell the proverbial roses now and then.

I'm no exception to falling prey to the monotony of daily routine. Most days, I sadly awake at 4am with my first conscious thought of the day being "It's time to wake up AGAIN?? So early? Why?!?!" Wash, rinse, repeat Monday through Saturday. And then a perfectly beautiful autumn day comes along to open my eyes to what I'm missing. "Carpe Diem Katie." While I certainly believe this, I'm not a faithful follower of this philosophy, try as I might. Wednesday, I finally opened my eyes after a long "nap."

With my digital camera in tow, I finally had a different kind of experience to cross off my "life" to-do list. For about a year now, I've been telling myself "Someday I'm going to go to Graceland Cemetary just to wander around looking at old gravestones and take some photos while there." I didn't quite realize what I was in store for when I walked into the cemetary. Usually not one to shy away from risks and "adventures" of sorts, I was surprised that I felt slightly uncomfortable and creeped out as I walked around aimlessly. As I walked upon the earth that housed the dead below, I felt my boots sink in a bit. "How solid is this grass/dirt beneath me?" I wondered. Visions of decomposing hands bursting forth from the ground started to infiltrate the trappings of my imagination.

The more gravestones I read and photographed, the more I began to feel a sadness for the deceased. Some only had one word engraved on the stone: "Mother," "Baby," "Grandma," "Brother," etc. Others had just the typical first and last name with their respective birth and death dates. Then there were those that indicated their "role" in life: military officer, medical doctor, or beloved family member. Still others that were completely devoid of any identification. There was only one that told me something about a person: "Rich in Friends." I liked that one. Generally speaking though, it saddened me to wonder how much these people are/were missed if gravestones couldn't even capture a true representation of who they were.

Do we only live on in the memories of the living, or is it best to be remembered in the comfort of the written word? "Soft" memories vs. "concrete" memories....

I haven't come up with an answer. I'm not even sure there is one. All I know is that I want to be remembered as more than a name, age, and "sister, daughter, friend, and/or lover." Who I am is more than the tangible aspects of my Self, it's how I choose to LIVE that will dictate my "in memoriam."

Carpe Diem.

Bending the Map (posted 3/7/07)

"You're trying to make reality conform to your expectations rather than seeing what's there. In the sport of orienteering, they call that 'bending the map'."

Psychologists report about 75% of people stuck in a life threatening situation either freeze or go into a daze. These individuals become "victims." So what characteristics must one possess to be a "survivor?"

According to Laurence Gonzales in his gripping novel "Deep Survival," there are key factors that distinguish one as a "survivor":
--Following your instincts. This includes thinking for yourself in the face of danger. Paradoxically, obeying authority oftentimes is what kills people. Example: During the World Trade Center hysteria, many people were going up towards the roof or staying put, obeying the suggestions of rescue crews. Those that chose to follow their instincts and take the stairs to evacuate were the ones more likely to live.

--Having a Zen mind and a dose of humility. This means keeping your mind open to different possibilities, regardless of any training and expertise one might have in survival techniques. Interestingly, it is noted that while "professionals" trained in survival (such as Search and Rescue, firefighters, military personnel,etc) would seem the most likely to survive life-threatening circumstances, their experience is sometimes what holds them back from being survivors. Apparently, this is due to relying too much on what they have learned in training as opposed to keeping it basic. ("The Rambo types are the first to go.") The Tao te Ching says "He who is brave in daring will be killed, He who is brave in not daring will survive."

--Creating a mental map of where you are, NOT where you want to be. You must adapt to the world because the world will not adapt to you.

--Using fear to focus on survival. In other words, making a 100% commitment to staying alive, regardless of the conditions. Gonzales mentions a 17 year old girl who forced herself to keep going, despite fear of piranhas attacking her and worms that had dug beneath her skin while stranded in a Peruvian jungle. Even more inconceivable, there are historical accounts of those that have succumbed to eating human flesh to survive. This could not be done without preparing oneself mentally.

--Positive Mental Attitude (P.M.A.). This extends to having a well-defined purpose, even if it means short, attainable goals. People in Nazi concentation camps and/or prisoners of war have stated that what kept them going was to keep telling themselves they would be rescued say, within the next three months. When that time passed, they would give themselves another time period (ex: 3 more months).

--Empathy and teamwork. Chance of survival has been shown to be higher for people who helped their peers in an emergency situation. And if alone, thinking of someone to live for "back home" (mother, child, spouse, etc) seems to provide a sense of hope and endurance.

--Resting/pacing yourself. Especially in extreme weather/water conditions, it is of utmost importance not to push oneself too hard. Otherwise, dehydration and exhaustion may speed up the potential to become "victim."

--Belief in a higher power. Interestingly, it is said that prayer is a strength for those that don't even necessarily believe in God. One must, however, still actively help themselves. Sitting and waiting for help usually equals death.

If our experiences, education, family and way of viewing the world shape your propensity to be a "survivor"....I wonder, would I be a survivor? When I think of things I have endured throughout my life, I contemplate how frequently I utilized the above mentioned characteristics to "survive"/build my character. I have always been one to follow my instincts. I've also learned empathy and the power of teamwork at a very young age. Getting past fear is a trickier lesson to master though, something I'm still working on to this day. Ditto for PMA and adapting to my environment. I'm not so sure where I stand on how much I rely on higher powers to get me through crises; I'm somewhat indifferent. I'd have to think more on that one.

By far, my biggest weakness would probably be resting/pacing myself. I think this is what would get me in the biggest trouble. How do I know this? My hardcore overachieving personality trait. In everyday life, this might be a positive, but in nature where anything goes, this could be dangerous. I know how I can be. I tend to push myself too much when I haven't exercised in a long time, working too hard when I know my body hasn't had a chance to adjust to exerting myself. I also recently got a blister on the bottom of my foot (because the bottom of my sock/inside of my shoe was soaked with cold water, producing an onset of chafing) after I foolishly ran through cold slushy snow. It could have been prevented had I taken the precaution to wear thicker socks...and NOT run constantly through thick snow sludge. These are but two perfect examples of what could be my weakness....what could lead to my ultimate demise. Of course, chances are slim I would ever find myself stranded in the mountains/jungle/lost at sea,etc...but it is fascinating to consider whether I have what it takes to be a survivor.

Ever since I was a teenager, I have been curious to one day test my limits in the adventure/educational survival program called Outward Bound. If I had to live with nothing/no one else to depend on but my own skills, intelligence, and quick thinking....could I do it?
Do I really want to know or are some things better left as a mystery?

Spring Fever (posted 3/13/07)

I have a tendency to be downtrodden and morose in the winter, diving under covers and scarfing down the warm, comfort foods of the season. In some circles, it is known as SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder)....yeah, such a fitting acronym, huh?! Now, maybe it really is just a coincidence, but I beg to differ. If I take a look at the past three days, not much has changed in my daily living. I didn't win the lotto, nor have I had any adventurous experiences to speak of. This is why I link my playful, energetic, and confident mood on the influx of sunshine, relaxing/enjoyable 50-60's temps, and people watching all around.

I thought it was just me, but I have noticed other people around me are more forthcoming as well. Friday I was doing my laundry in my apt building. Usually whenever there is another person in the laundry room, it's not unusual for me and that other person to go about our laundry duties without a peep or even much of an acknowledgement that there's another person a few feet away. The other day, however, this young twentysomething girl struck up a short conversation with me about the weather and seemed just as cheerful as I was feeling. When I returned later to take some clothes out of the dryer, another chick was excited that the dryer was free for her clothes.

Suddenly people become more talkative and flirtacious when the temperatures rise! Spring brings with it the temptation of being hit with a love connection...well, lust might be more accurate. When it's 30 below outside in Chicago, your coat and scarf hiding your face and body, thermals underneath give the illusion you've turned into a repulsive looking thing! You struggle against the ferocity of the wind and are lucky if you're able to see a few feet in front of wherever you're walking, let alone check anyone out! Hiding under clothes and hibernating isn't exactly sexy. Spring, however, encourages the return of shades, hats, form fitting shirts, sweaty bodies working out on the lakefront for all to see, and motivation to MOVE it.

I think Spring is my long lost sexy friend I never truly appreciated until now.

My One Word (posted 3/23/07)

The other day I sent family and friends an email, asking them to "describe me in one word" just for fun. I received some interesting responses and thought I would post them here with who said what, again...just for fun. Feel free to add a comment if you haven't responded yet! I liked this game...it gave me the warm fuzzies. Haha.

***Inquisitive (coworker/friend Carol)
***Smart (Eddie)
***Caring (Manuela)
***Compassionate (my stepdad)
***Philosopher (Sara)
***Brilliant (my mom...she's a little biased...haha!)
***Contemplative (my dad)
***Quirky (thanks sis )
***Loyal (Rajiv)
***Highbrow (AJ)
***Thoughtful (Josh)

Dusting off Websters (posted 4/2/07)

It is very rare for me to read a book where I don't know what alot of words mean, or even for me to come across words I have never seen before in a novel. Such is the refreshing, rare exception to the classic literature novel I am currently reading, "Magic Mountain" by Thomas Mann.

I love how books somehow stumble into my life unexpectedly at times. I wasn't familiar with this author at all until my mom, an English comp/literature/humanities,et al professor, told me she was reading "Death in Venice." Following suit, I picked it up to read as well, intrigued by its description. Initially, I was a bit intimidated to read it, mainly because the sentences were long-winded and the style was different with its vocabulary. But then I came to appreciate its uniqueness and the slightly creepy aire to it.

After finishing DIV, I figured I'd take a stab at MM. Funny enough, I find this book more challenging. It is 700 small print pages!! It is descriptive to the nnth degree that tests my patience and concentration level at times, but honestly, it is refreshing to read something that challenges me intellectually. I had to pull the Webster's Dictionary off my bookshelf. Blowing the dust off of it, I cracked it open to investigate some unrecognizable words. It is interesting how one's perspective changes as you get older. I remember when I was younger, I used to be so annoyed when someone (my dad usually) would tell me to "look it up" when I didn't know what a word meant. Now, I welcome such an opportunity to learn! I have already learned 3 new words this past week:
Word #1: dolt/doltish: a stupid person. Hehehe.
Word #2: abrogation: to abolish, repeal, annul.
Word #3: diaphanous: letting much light through.

While I probably won't be using these words in my everyday language anytime soon (except doltish, because it sounds fun to say!), my literary thirst is being quenched. This morning I was thinking about how much I need intellectual stimulation, exercise for my mind. When I was in graduate school, I was mentally "fit" with all the papers, tests, discussion to engage me. But now that I am working, it is hard to find someone/thing that challenges me on that level, especially since most of my clients are not educated or intellectual. It challenged me to also think, "Would you rather be compassionate, helping other people and not be challenged intellectually or use analytical intelligence every day, but not be making a difference in other's lives?" This is a tough call for me, because I truly believe I need to exercise both qualities to express my true nature/personality,etc. Maybe in an ideal world, I could do both. In reality though, I very rarely do both...at work anyway. Yet, I'm still a dreamer of sorts.

This is why I passionately love books, both fiction and nonfiction. I can utilize my intellect and in a way, "feel" for the characters in fiction novels. I remember hearing that with books, you can "travel" miles away without moving an inch. Very true!!

"She" (posted 4/24/07)

She was a motherless child at 5 years old, her mother having died during childbirth. Imagine watching your mother's funeral service in your living room at five years old. And taking care of your nine brothers and sisters while your father works all day. She loved the color purple, including Lilac flowers. Money was always tight, but her clothes were always crisp and she carried with it a sophisticated aire. Brown tousled hair and a cheerful smile gave her a radiant glow of kindness and warmth.

She had her first date with Don on the night of her high school graduation and they married on the evening of February 1, 1941 in Melrose, Massachusetts. While she had a lifetime of experiences and memories, I can only recall that part of her life that included my own…..

Her wrinkly skinned face felt soft as a pillow. It smelled of talcum powder and Oil of Olay lotion. She routinely had her hair done at the local beauty shop in Derry. You always knew where she was coming from when her hair was covered with a plastic hat to shield her new 'do from the outside elements.

She had a distinct "Ta-Ha-Ha" laugh that reverberated a comforting tone to those who dearly loved her. "Oh Don!" could be heard any time she was appalled or remotely embarrassed by something her husband might have said to ruffle her feathers. Of the "old school days," she never learned to drive a car. She could always be found accompanying him on excursions to the local post office or Shaw's grocery store. No one could match her cooking, even if they tried. The smell of her gravy, perfected over the years by each successive holiday, enveloped the whole house. Mouths watering, family members rushing to the kitchen just for a quick fix….to swallow spoonfuls of gravy like a bowl full of homemade soup.

Her loyal and loving gestures extended to making me bacon and eggs the morning after a weekend sleepover. And making cookie cutter ham and cheese sandwiches of different shapes on soft, squishy white bread for lunch when I was in kindergarten.

She worried about everyone else's well-being, usually at the expense of her own. She ached to love and be loved by family. She cried when she was happy, as well as when she was sad. Exuding so much compassion, it was easy to see why sometimes family members could be so jealous of the love she gave so freely.

Around the time of her birthday in April 1988, she dropped dead of a heart attack in the doctor's office the day she was there to find out why she had been feeling so ill. Family would later speculate she died of a "broken heart."

Though gone physically, she lives on within the context of my memories 19 years later. The most loving woman I have ever known….

my grandmother.

What's MY bliss? (posted 5/31/07)

"Follow Your Bliss."

"If you follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there the whole while, waiting for you, and the life you ought to be living is the one you are living." ---Joseph Campbell

I climbed the steep desert mountain in Saguaro National Park, dodging prickly cactuses and silently wishing no rattlesnakes would surprise me with their presence. It was a hot dry morning out in the Arizona desert, beautiful nonetheless. Mom didn't want to carry her brother's impersonal black box of cremated remains, so I offered to do the necessary task. I wasn't completely comfortable, but as with everything else, I always strive to push myself past my comfort zones, no matter how initially scary or strange the situation. The box was heavier than I expected it to be and I became slightly nervous that I would drop it. This resulted in my proceeding up the mountain with the utmost caution. The further along I went in my ascent, I started to feel a calmness, and oddly enough, honored that I was chosen to carry the ashes. Very appropriate, the more I thought about it. He always "carried" my worries and tended to them with such sage advice and wisdom in a lifetime of conversations.

The previous night as I was thinking about what I wanted to say for the memorial, I recalled a sweatshirt he wore for years. He wore the tattered and nearly torn sweatshirt so much that over time I came to associate "Follow Your Bliss" as his own personal mantra, though it was really just a "borrowed" statement from mythology's great Joseph Campbell. I always loved the simple quote and though I had not forgotten it, I HAD forgotten the beat up oversized navy blue sweatshirt my uncle wore to remind others....Until Su told me she was planning on donating a pile of his clothes to the DAV (Disabled American Vets). It hit me! Did she have the "FYB" sweatshirt?! Why, yes!

Su happily pulled it out of the pile, proudly acquiescing my request to keep it as a memento. After settling at our spot on the mountain for our intimately small family memorial service, the three women dearest to him in his life (my mother, his wife, and myself) decided to drape the sweatshirt over the box of ashes resting on the ground. The box was not "him," but the "Follow Your Bliss" symbol found on the sweatshirt couldn't have been a more accurate representation, his true character.

While I brought back the sweatshirt with me home to Chicago, with it also came the hope and drive within myself to explore the question: "What is MY bliss?" It has become the burning question.

So, here's where I'm at: Why continue feeling unhappy, continue in our ruts of convenience rather than jump into the exciting possibilities of what may truly fulfill our lives?! I can make excuses (not enough $ to do what I want, feeling too tired, ad infinitum...). Ultimately though, all I need is perspective to spur me on: "Follow Your Bliss."

What makes Katie happy? Helping people in counseling them (but not case management, which is currently what I do most of the time), being creative, writing, being by the beach and mountains, simple pleasures. Not a fancy place to live per se, but somewhere that feels like "me" and somewhere that allows me the option to have a dog as a pet someday. When I think of all these things, I feel a little bit of bliss right now. I enjoy simple things in Chicago. I also find myself writing more frequently and feeling fulfilled after counseling sessions with certain clients. But it's not enough.

My bliss is riding in a Jeep with windblown hair alongside the oceanfront and singing along to random fun songs with someone whom I feel naturally comfortable being around without having to try at all. My bliss is being able to sink my bare feet into soft white sand and inhale fresh smelling beach air as a breeze gently comforts me. My bliss is swimming in a pool on a warm spring night underneath a pitch black beauty of stars above. And better yet, my bliss is a dog eagerly rushing over to greet me at the door when I get home with no agenda. My bliss is pleasant experiences that come from a state of no expectation, "letting go," pure "go with the flow" moments. My bliss is forgetting any sense of time. Five hours can fly like it was five minutes ago, refreshingly. My bliss looks at me, mirroring exactly how I feel inside. My bliss is being someone else's bliss. This much I know about the bliss that has recently overwhelmed me. My bliss is in a gratitude of living for today and not being chained to the past. My bliss is my self-confidence and playful attitude.

"Follow Your Bliss!!!"

How do I get there? Slowly and eventually. My goal is to start looking for a non-counseling job, just temporarily. The way I see it, if I can find a normal 9 to 5'er with weekends off, something not particularly stressful and mentally taxing me to the point of exhaustion, I'll have more energy and motivation to reassess my career back in the direction I started before I threw myself into the realm of treating substance abusers.....what I was excited about once upon a time: relationship oriented counseling. I love being a part of a therapy process, which is what I rarely get to do with my current job.

Job transitions aside, I also feel disconnected from the city life lately. Since the beginning of this year, I have felt that Chicago and I are on the verge of a breakup. Like a relationship that becomes stagnant, it doesn't serve me to stay in it much longer. Thus, part of my path to eventual bliss includes my goal to seek a counseling job somewhere else that is more conducive to my need for nature, quiet, and a laidback atmosphere in the next 12 months. Could be Florida, could be California, Colorado, Oregon,etc. Who the hell knows, but for the first time in awhile, I am reminded: "Follow Your Bliss." And that is all that matters.

Reaction and Response (posted 6/7/07)

I'm reading the most excellent book right now on intelligence, which strongly encourages individuals to think for themselves. How refreshing. Instead of regurgitating rote "intellectual" knowledge or even what the "experts" say, consider what is the intelligent choice for you and your life. I love this particular quote, because it sums up what I observe and feel alot lately, both in my personal and professional life. It is always easier to encourage others to do this or that, but quite another to heed your own words/philosophy. Still, this is something I'm currently working on mastering/practicing....striving to respond rather than react.

"Reaction is from the thoughts and response is understanding. Reaction comes from the past; response is always in the present. But ordinarily we react--we have everything already inside. Somebody is doing something and we react as if a button has been pushed. Somebody insults you and you become angry---that has happened before, and it has been happening the same way all the while. It has become almost like a button: Someone pushes it, you become angry. There is not a single moment of waiting, not a single moment where you look at the situation to see if it may be different. The person who is insulting you may be right. He may have simply revealed a truth to you and that's why you feel insulted. Or he may be absolutely wrong, or he may be just a nasty person. But you have to look into the person--if he is right, you have to thank him because he has shown something to you. He has shown compassion toward you, he has been friendly by bringing a truth to your heart. Maybe it hurts, but that is not his fault."

Is it better not to know? (posted 6/14/07)

Almost every day that I ride the #73 Armitage bus to work just as the sun is rising, I see the same few individuals follow the same bus routine as me. I sometimes wonder who they are, what they are like, what kind of lives they lead. This morning as I was approaching the bus, I recognized the familiar older woman with long gray hair and glasses standing there smoking a cigarette. I stopped as she asked me what I do/where I go that has me leaving so early in the morning. "I work at a clinic. What about you?" She tells me she is a gardener and likes to get there early because she has to go all the way to Des Plaines. Our brief exchange is over and I take my seat on the bus.

About 10 minutes later, I see another familiar face, an older developmentally disabled ("slow") man. He wears glasses, appears to be in his early to mid forties, and always carries a lunch bag in his left hand. Knowing my travel route fairly well, I'm quite certain each morning he goes to the Anixter Center. It is a place that helps developmentally disabled people, though I'm not sure what services they offer,etc. Sometimes I see three other similiar people on their way there too, but not as frequent as I see the aforementioned man.

Perhaps it is because I had a short interaction with the woman from the bus that had me thinking about this on my bus ride, not sure....but I got to thinking about how much different life could be if I was born completely different. I remembered the main character from the book "Flowers for Algernon" that I read last year. The whole theme of the book centered around a man who had Down's Syndrome. While he wasn't the smartest person and he lived a very simplistic life, he was happy and had an innocent perspective on life. Of course, the proverbial Pandora's Box is opened. What would happen if psychologists and doctors could give him some kind of treatment to make his brain more effective/intelligent? How would his life be different?
I'm not going to give away the ending because it is truly a phenomenal book, however, I am left with the pondering question: Is it better to live a life of simplicity? One that is not mired in war/violence, hatred, selfishness, lies/deception, judgment, worries about financial security, government, the economy, ad infinitum? Or is it the bad stuff that balances out the good, that gives us a more meaningful and rewarding gratitude of kindness, beauty, humor, love, joy, passion, laughter, resilience, compassion, etc etc?

Interestingly, my mom and I were talking about something similar to this yesterday when she called me just to say Hi and touch base. We were commiserating about our common work frustrations. She was annoyed with some of her slacker students who have been blowing off her class with one excuse after another as to why they were unable to attend class. I countered back with my annoyance of slacker clients who fail to show up for their appointments and/or just show up whenever they feel like it. I told her I just don't understand why people can't at the very least call if they are running late/can't make it, as a common courtesy. My mom's cynical side came out. I don't think she really believes this deep down, but I can understand her feeling this way temporarily. I know I do at times. She went on to say that she doesn't have much hope for people....that no one takes the time to be polite/considerate and think of anyone but themselves anymore.

I do think this is true to an extent, but I think my mom had a good point...that how you were raised by your parents as being influential. She taught me to respect my elders, work hard for what I want in life (versus blindly expecting it to be handed over to me), and acknowledge even the smallest of gestures from others with the gratitude of a 'thank you' note,etc. There are many valuable things she instilled in me. Very simple things, yet things I consider important and honestly, things that have defined my overall character.

Is teaching people how to value each other not common among the masses in 2007? I don't know. That remains to be determined I guess. I certainly didn't intend to become a downer in this blog. Just kinda thinking aloud here....

Accountability, addiction, and other related matters (posted 7/12/07)

While working/doing paperwork in my office earlier, I was flipping the channels on my radio and caught wind of an interesting radio show's topic of discussion. As I've mentioned in previous blogs, I like listening to different topic discussions on the radio now and again (103.5, "Drex In the Morning" or something like that, for any curious Chicago folks wanting to know...). Today's topic was particularly interesting, as it was somewhat related to something I know about: drug addiction and accountability. Actually, the topic was more specific ("Women Who Are Locked Up Simply Out of 'Guilty by Association'"), but found the overall discussion to cover an even broader range centering on the issue of accountability/responsibilty and its consequences.

They were talking about girlfriends/wives of drug dealers who have been arrested and charged with their criminal significant others....basically "going down" (or being "guilty by association"). While one could argue "How could someone not know that they person they are dating/married to could be dealing drugs, running a meth lab,etc?," at the same time, I think looking at each individual's situation is critical.

One woman called in to this radio show with her personal story about how she was separated from her husband and he had a meth lab in some house somewhere and had no idea. Since they don't know whether to believe her, she was charged as an accessory and may serve up to six yrs in a state penitentiary. I can't say whether she was telling the truth, but it had to make me wonder when she made the following comment: "How do you prove you didn't know?" (to a court of law) And does the truth really set you free in such a situation? Hmmm. I'd like to think so, but the reality is it all comes down to politics too I think.

This other caller, a Cook County Illinois prosecutor, gave his perspective on the subject: He thinks drug addicts need help, but drug dealers should definitely be charged. Unfortunately, the reality is that addicts seem to be arrested on the same "level" of criminality as drug dealers and are NOT getting the rehabilitation they truly need. I see this ALOT with my clients who have criminal backgrounds, listening to what they have been through in jail/prison, so that is how I have become more knowledgable about the seriousness of this social problem. As long as drug addicts are stigmatized as "junkies" who are sometimes treated as less than human beings as they struggle through their self-abusive habits, there will continue to be a lack of compassion, understanding, and positive change in the courts/legislative system.

Another very significant and equally valid concern was raised by yet another caller....something else I absolutely agree with and am equally frustrated with myself, as a therapist monitoring this with my own clients. This woman brought up the fact that doctors need to be cognizant and selective when they are giving prescribed meds for highly addictive drugs, such as Vicodin. When used for its intended purpose, it can definitely be helpful to those suffering from unbearable physical pain. But how long does someone realistically need to take pain killers? It is intended as a short term analgesic, not long term (in most instances anyway....as a form of palliative care with terminal illness would be one of the few exceptions to this I think). It is such a grey area that requires medical professionals to educate themselves on the growing epidemic of drug addiction, especially considering how rampant prescribed meds addiction (ie Vicodin, Xanax, Adderal,etc) has become in recent years. I think to an extent, doctors need to held just as accountable as any other professional caring for these individuals. They are ethically bound to "do no harm" and I am a firm believer that "It takes a village to raise a child" is just as applicable to rehabilitating/monitoring those with drug addiction, possibly even more! Many times I feel like working with addicts takes so much more patience from me than I ever needed to muster working with children!

Having just one person in an addict's life to monitor their recovery is simply not enough---it requires multi-level care approach: the justice system, medical system, families, and social services need to work together (versus the current bureaucratic ineffective approach). This also means taking into consideration economics/funding for those that are in need of a higher level of care, particularly inpatient treatment. Interestingly, one of my clients just brought this up in our counseling session yesterday when we happened to be talking about inpatient care. How can one afford inpatient care AT ALL when the cost of one month alone can add up to $10,000?! With all the complications of insurance/managed care and worst of all lack of health care for those who cannot afford medical insurance or medical cards, yet another barrier to conquer!

Granted, this is a complex problem that cannot be addressed overnight, but the hardest things to accomplish aren't usually achieved easily and effortlessly. With a compassion and a drive to be a part of individual and societal change though, it can slowly but surely be a step in the right direction.

Practical intelligence (posted 7/18/07)

At the risk of sounding anti-education (which I'm totally not!), I have been thinking alot lately about how nice it would be to see certain things implemented into our educational system. I got to thinking about this on more than one occasion at work the past few days. It actually came up in a few conversations I had with one or two clients, as well as my supervisor yesterday during a meeting.

How much stuff do we learn in school (primarily public schools and to a lesser extent, universities) that we really truly need? Where is the practical intelligence of learning things that have the most effect on our everyday lives?

I realize we all need the basics ("reading, writing, 'rithmetic," as the saying goes) to further ourselves beyond the 'basic' level successfully. But are the basics even 'basic' enough? While children may be learning algebra or what the term 'foreshadowing' means in English class, how is either one honestly relevant to the "real world" as an adult? Unless you want to become a Math and English teacher, not a whole helluva lot.

Again, I'm not anti-education. I do think practical life skills should be taught in our schools though. Did anyone ever show you how to balance a checkbook when you were in school? What about doing your taxes? Did anyone teach you how to effectively deal with conflict management, how to handle confrontations with other people without resorting to nasty verbal or physical fights? What about knowledge on other cultures, races,etc? What about learning how to see, analyze, and appreciate different viewpoints to facilitate open-mindedness in each other? What about teaching others critical thinking, to think for themselves on important decisions and/or developing one's worldview? How about knowing what to do in an emergency situation (how to think fast/'on the fly')? I could go on, as there are many more I could probably think of it illustrate this point if I continue to think critically about it, but that could take all day!

It may sound complex, but don't we come across this stuff frequently throughout our lives? Alot of society's issues stem from this problem area of what's lacking in the overall education system. They deserve a big fat "F" for 'failure' to teach these simple, yet key "learning objectives" in life.

Some critics may argue "Well, that's what parents are for!" Sure, in a perfect world maybe. How many people come from the 'perfect' home where their parents are around or even attentive enough to teach these things (at least without the help of a community/school teaching all this too)?

During my meeting with my supervisor yesterday, we had an interesting segment of conversation. My supervisor was giving me my annual review and we were going over work goals I had set and accomplished since last July. While brainstorming what my new goals for the upcoming year would be, one of the goals I came up with was to learn more about pharmacology/prescription meds. I was telling her how important it was for me to have a background knowledge on different medications people take for mental issues like depression, anxiety, schizophrenia,etc because I have many MISA (Mentally Ill Substance Abusers) clients. In order to understand them and help them most effectively, it would help to familiarize myself with common medications associated with certain mental disorders. I never had a class in graduate school on psychotropic medications.

I told my supervisor how I couldn't understand how EVERYONE in a psychology grad school that is studying to be a therapist could NOT be required to take such a class. Sure, that's what psychiatrists are for, but again.....what about those who can't afford to go to a psychiatrist? Most of my clients are low income. They get meds from their regular doctor and get their counseling with me. In those instances, I take on the pseudo-role of a psychiatrist. I cannot prescribe it, but I certainly still need to be familiar with it. My supervisor agreed with me that people don't teach you the practical things. She pointed out that she never learned how to do a treatment plan or how to conduct a mental assessment in grad school. I didn't either!

Granted, there are going to be things in life that cannot be easily taught. Things happen and we have to utilize whatever intelligence we have at any given time to help us learn the sometimes challenging, tough life lessons. But wouldn't it be nice if at least a fraction of practical things started being taught in schools? It certainly would be one less thing to wonder or worry about.....

Word-ly Apprentice (posted 7/21/07)

After my grandmother died when I was 10 years old, I started getting to know my grandfather more. Over the years, we eventually became close. Prior to that time, it felt like he was more an extension of the love my grandmother showered upon me. He was always around, but never took the 'spotlight' in my life until after her death. I sometimes wonder if I would have had the opportunity to establish such a bond with him if my grandmother had not died when she did.

We moved away from our small hometown of Derry, New Hampshire shortly after my grandmother's death in 1988. Moving to the Great Bridge/Chesapeake, Virginia town was a big transition for everyone in the family, my grandfather being no exception. With his wife and his daughter's family now gone, loneliness was more the norm than the exception.
While he could have easily sank into a depression or been discouraged by the circumstances, he instead utilized the opportunity to connect with our family by starting a new annual tradition. For the next three or four years, he would drive across the miles to our house and live with us. I can't remember how long he would stay, but I do remember every year he always arrived right around the holidays near Thanksgiving time. I credit his living in our house with my growing curiosity to spend time with him, including getting to know his personality and his little idiosyncracies I wouldn't likely have seen much of otherwise.

Grampa loved watching the evening news, as well as the cop drama of the 80's, "TJ Hooker." I remember watching many afternoon episodes with him. He would sit comfortably in our plush pink leather chair in the living room. Frequently, I would ask him a question or comment on something happening in the show, only to look over and see him nodding off into a nap. hehehe. He loved eating the Swanson fried chicken, corn, and mashed potato tv dinners. He also had a thing for the occasional sardines out of a can. They stunk so bad I could smell it on his breath if I got close enough to give him a kiss on the cheek before I went to bed! He would just laugh, as he never failed to see the humor in most situations. He enjoyed photography and equally loved traveling. Sometimes he would let me tag along with him on little excursions, one of which involved us taking the dog with us to check out one of Virginia's great historical sites.
One memory that sticks out most vividly in my mind, however, is the image of him sitting at the desk in my brother's room when we lived in Panama City, Florida. I always knew when Grampa was around when I could hear loud distinct typewriter noises, extending all the way down the hall of the house. I would walk out of my room to see what little writing project he was working on at the moment. No matter what he was writing, whether a letter or a short story, he always looked productive and engrossed in his art.

Glasses slid almost to the bottom of his nose, his fingers rapidly tapping the keys of the typewriter, he was in his creative element. No one could bother him or pull him out of that state of mind if they tried. This simultaneously fascinated and perplexed me at the time. Looking back in hindsight, perhaps my having observed him happily engaging in this pursuit had some influence in my own developing writing endeavors over the years.

I started writing in a journal when I was 15 or 16 years old, though it was never anything I considered interesting material. More like "I have a crush on so and so" or writing about what I did with my friends over the weekend. Having moved alot throughout my childhood and teen years, I picked up the hobby of writing letters or emails to friends as I got got older. Aside from the aforementioned, I didn't write much else for pleasure. I remember writing silly little poems when I was in college, I shamefully must admit. But I wasn't good at it. There were endless papers to churn out in college and graduate school, but I didn't think much of my writing. The way I saw it, I wasn't doing anything different than other students working hard on a paper to get a good grade. This changed, however, when I started writing without it being out of obligation. Just pure enjoyment.

Like the reminiscent image of my grandfather happily engaged at the desk at our house in Florida, I have become the modern reflection of this image. Now it is I sitting at the desk, fingers flying across the keyboard, unaware of all else around me besides the words I create on the screen in front of me.

As I sit now and write with a similar passion for the art form, I smile and think of how my grandfather's memory and art live on within me.

Quantum leapin' lives

Remember the time travel tv show "Quantum Leap" from the late 80's to early 90's? Even though I have never been a huge sci-fi fan, this show always fascinated me. When I tuned in to a particular episode, I found I had memorized the beginning sequence almost verbatim and would frequently "chant" the short sequence aloud with its narrator. I had a curious desire to know where the main character "Sam" would be traveling next, what new body he would "leap" into, and what interesting challenges he would face.

When I think about the show in the context of how it relates to me personally, it feeds my imagination full of possibilities.

Where would I go, what would I do, who would I want to be if I could live another life? If I could "leap around"....

I think it would be intriguing to know what it feels like to be an international spy. I remember last year, I came across an interesting British based pseudo-reality show late one night on PBS called "Spy."

They took a group of men and women from all over the world and trained/schooled them on the art of what it takes to be a spy. Granted, it wasn't totally for real (like I said). There were some simulated setups, but for the most part, they tried to make the training as true to life under the circumstances. It was a game of survival of the fittest. Those who couldn't hack it and pass the very basics, did not advance to the next "level" of training.

Some "tests" included manipulating your way into someone's apartment with their consent (a few people had some very creative stories and actually were let in by the owners with their stories!!), effectively watching and following people without their knowing,etc.

The biggest obstacle for a majority of participants was that they couldn't bring themselves to dissociate from their true identity. This of course, is detrimental to being a spy. You won't be a great spy if someone can "break" you down with psychological strategies. You also might not be alive very long, endangering top secret missions and risking the lives of those who know your true identity!

The more I watched this show (I think there were maybe 10 episodes, but I was never able to find them all to watch), the more fascinated I was by the idea. With my background in psychology, I wondered "Could I pass the psychological tests and be an effective spy? And if I DID, would I enjoy it? Or is the idea of it more alluring?"

The same things goes for being an FBI profiler. I find the idea dangerously exciting. Only if I could do it "Quantum Leap" style though....temporarily, for a day or two to experience what it's like. The reality is I would probably be too chicken shit to do it for a living: be paranoid people were watching, following me (kinda like being a spy, maybe. haha!), have nightmares of serial killers. But to get successfully get into the mind of a killer and capture the killer for the better of humanity....a worthwhile reward?

If I never had to work a day in my life, I think I could happily live just writing, traveling, being a "lifelong" student and activist of humanitarian causes. I suppose I do this to a degree in my life now, but it would be tenfold if money were of no consequence! I could work for the Travel Channel, being one of those GlobeTrotters from the show "Lonely Planet." An avid watcher of the show in my undergrad college days, made me such a dreamer for adventure and cultural experiences. To be able to take pictures, talk to the camera and/or write about my observations, things I gleaned from each place visited! Though I haven't ventured outside the US yet, it is top on my life goals list (to travel the world)!

What else would I do, want to be?

I would work at a funeral home like the Fisher family in "Six Feet Under." Some may think this macabre, and ok, maybe it is.....but the yin and yang (life contrasted against death) is such a juicy interest of mine. Like the show "Six Feet Under," I like to consider the various ways people can die, how people perceive death, and the spiritual dilemnas it inevitably stirs up in all of us....regardless of any or no religious/dogmatic beliefs. Then, how to translate compassion and understanding for humanity in each unique situation....

If I could be a chef for a day, I'd want to "leap" as Nigella Lawson....to experience her passion for food and how she creates dishes with her senses for other people's palates.

Being a professor would be fun, as I LOVE discussing ideas and learning. Owning a bookstore with a coffee shop in a quiet, countryside atmosphere could also be enjoyable for the same reason.

And to feed my bold side: Having a talk radio show could be intellectually stimulating and inspiring. Cabaret dancing, thrilling and erotic.

Though I'm not sure which time period would be great to experience, I would do that too in a "leap." And speaking a foreign language I would likely never speak in this lifetime, like Japanese or Portuguese,etc. Would it feel any different to communicate in another language and culture?

What about living as a historically great revolutionary figure? Heart beating with passionate abandon, courageously standing up to conflict in the face of danger and opposition. The ultimate kind of risk taker!

But enough about my many lives....