Phoenix Rising

P for Phoenix, for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. This post is for Amanuensis Sobriquet-Reverie. Her poem today “Burn the witch” brings up present and past difficult memories. Here is the poem I wrote about it in 2003.

Phoenix Rising

Set a torch to me
Why don’t you?

It’s not the tearing sound of fabric
A small rip
And now a tear
That I feel

It’s the torch

I’ve been here before
A job where the idealistic came
As moths to the flame
Self-immolation
Because they had ideals

I watched and burned and rose

It’s the torch
The flames that rise
As the witch is burned
Tilts back her head
In ecstasy and knowledge
Eager to learn what she can
From these burning brands

In the burning we learn
In pain we learn
If we can remain open
Ashes fall to the ground
Buckets of water
Wash any remains to grey mud
Gone, punished
Relief for the frightened
An example has been set

No but what stirs at night
Moon or none
What rises from the mud
The ashes
Takes form
Takes flight
Laughing

Set a torch to me
Why don’t you?
And see what is created

a local bookstore
previously published on everything2.com

Move

M is for Move in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge

Move

Blessings on you

Take care of my heart

I know I’ve left it with someone kind

You don’t have to do anything with it

No giri

No obligation

You can set it anywhere

In a corner where it gets dusty

And covered with sawdust

Under the couch

In the woods

The kids can play catch with it

I don’t care

I am armored up

I am ready

I am ready to move

In the direction that I have chosen

Stand aside, please

I don’t want anyone to be hurt

Power up, armour, sheilds

I pick my sword back up

Obeisance to the Beloved

I move

38314-m

Hurt and healing

H is for healing and hurt in the Blogging from A to Z. I mentioned dreaming of monsters in my Gift post, and this is the poem about that dream. It is hard work to heal.

Advice to Micheal

Neverland
Is such an ironic name
Can’t they hear?
Can’t they think?
The land where boys never grew up
The Lost Boys

And you
Are not molesting
Boys
You are
Searching
When I heard
About your childhood
I knew
They were wrong
They’ve missed the boat

You sang
Like an angel
And the world
Stole your childhood

Hotel rooms
With older brothers
Sex
Drugs
Alcohol
Money
Chaos
And you must have been
So frightened
Lost
Pressure to sing
As the star

Locked your core self away
To keep it safe

My childhood
Was scary too

I started my search
With a dream
Of a dark hole
From which came the sound
Of monsters
Howling

I was scared

I went to the hole
anyway
scared
of the howling

The hole was dark
And roots stuck out of the side
Like reaching fingers

I got a flashlight
And looked

It wasn’t as deep
As I thought
And the roots worked as
A ladder

I climbed down
Into the hole

I found three monsters
Howling

Baby monsters

I put them in my pack
And carried them up
Into the light

They howled

I bathed them
And diapered them
And fed them
And rocked them

They howled
They didn’t know what to do
When taken care of

I named them
Fear
Grief
Shame

At last they stopped howling
And sat
Warm
Wrapped in blankets
Ugly
Sullen
Lower lips thrust out

And I found a shrink
To talk about my dream
And to help heal the monsters
That I had rescued

We always have more
Work to do
But now I have a little girl
Inside me
Who came to greet me
When I had healed the monsters
Enough
She is beautiful

You won’t find
The Lost Boy
That you are looking for
Outside you
He is inside
He is innocent
And beautiful

You may have to face
The monsters
Of your childhood
To reach him
Yours was worse than mine
I’m sorry

You may have to face
How much people you loved
Hurt you
Even though they loved you
I’m sorry

Find help
And rescue
The Lost Boy
And joy

Good luck.

Poem written August 10, 2005. Previously published on everything2.com.

Angel

I am in the April Blogging from A to Z Challenge and I am already late… that is, I did not post yesterday, my “A” day. I didn’t know what my theme for the month would be this morning. This morning, I am reading Micheal A. Singer’s The Untethered Soul and I found what I would be writing about.

I have written about my inner angel and devil before. That voice inside that talks all the time and makes judgements and gets excited about everything. Mr. Singer says that that voice is not us. That voice is like a roommate who talks constantly and is very dramatic. He talks about stepping back and watching that roommate and listening. If the roommate were a real person, we would cut them off. “Stop talking!” we would yell. But they won’t and they wouldn’t and we cannot get away.

So when that voice gets really irritating I call on my angel and devil to take over. They argue. The angel always says “Forgive.” The devil wants to whack the angel over the head with a hammer to shut them up. The angel forgives the devil for being nasty. The devil gets even more nasty and sarcastic and then I start laughing. The inner angel and inner devil are so over the top. Perhaps someone stepped on my toe and it hurt. The devil suggests what to say to them, where they should go, how to punish them. The devil is unreasonable and suggests punishments that are so far beyond the original insult that the angel appears and says, “Stop that. You aren’t being nice.” The devil swears. The angel says, “Well, your toe doesn’t hurt anymore does it and anyhow someone pushed the person who stepped on your toe so it wasn’t their fault and why did you come to a crowded concert if you can’t tolerate your toe being stepped on?” Then they may continue to fight for a while. At the concert I am laughing, inappropriately, because of the inner dialogue.

Today I want to thank that inner angel for all the times that she or he has calmed me down. Has stepped forward and said, “Stop reacting.” For being loving all the time.

Thank you, angel.

And here are synchronized swimmers, practicing before a competition. In the competition, they will not wear the swim cap or the goggles. This is a lift, remember, where none of them touch the bottom of the pool. It is all supported by the girls swimming. This is a team of eight, so four are supporting from under water, holding their breath. Trust and teamwork.

Off balance/balance

Plato’s Groove lovely poem from yesterday reminds me of Portia Nelson’s poem “A Poetic Interlude:Β  Autobiography in Five Short Chapters”. I wrote my own version of this back in 2005, about trying to change. It is hard. I also want to submit this to the Ronovan Writes BeWoW Wednesday, for Be Wonderful Wednesday. @RonovanWrites. I think looking inside and trying to change and changing is wonderful…..

Off balance/balance

Confusion
Makes no sense
React react react
Engage
Argue
Fight
Want to bite kick scream
Argue (control) argue
Icky tone of voice
Ugly
Confusion confusion
Told I am wrong
I am overreacting
I am invalid
Child again
Hide

Confusion
Makes no sense
React
Stop
Don’t react
Stop…..
Wait…..
Feel…..
Confusion ANGER
Let anger go
Confusion: Sad, Hurt
Sad feels lonely
Not engaged
Remember you are loved
Remember you are lovable
Sad is ok
Remember
Roses and violets and lupine
Spring from the path
Where your true self steps
Call true friends
Comforted.

Confusion
Makes no sense
Hurts
No react
Listen
Confusion not mine
Sad
Disengage
Remember
Roses and violets and lupine
True self
Comfort self

Confusion
Not mine
Step away
Comfort self

Comfort
Comfortable
I am loved
I am cherished
I am safe

June 11, 2005

previously published on everything2.com

Falling

I was asked to write a poem from the perspective of the angels in my dream.

Falling

We are stars
We are born
We are made to burn
We flame
We explode or burn out
We are made to die

We are angels
We are made to fall
We all fall
We are white falling in black space
Or black falling in white space
If you prefer
It doesn’t matter
It is the contrast that is important
There is no light without dark

We are angels
We are made to fall
We all fall

Do you fear
your fear?
your anger?
your grief?
falling?
death?

We fall for you

If you reject
your fear
your anger
your grief
falling
death

We will fall for you
We accept falling

All must fall

If you accept
your fear
your anger
your grief
falling
death

We will fall with you

You will fall with us

My mom loved me

My mom loved me

It’s herself she didn’t love
She didn’t love her anger
She didn’t love her fear
She didn’t love her sorrow
She didn’t love her shadows

She packed all her troubles in her saddlebags
and rode forth singing.

When I was angry
she felt her anger
When I was scared
she felt her fear
When I was sad
she felt her sorrow
When I felt my shadows
she felt hers
I hid my shadows

I hid my shadows for many years
and then my saddlebags were full
They called me

I dove in the sea
I rescued my anger
I rescued my fear
I rescued my sorrow
I rescued my shadows

At first I couldn’t love them
My mom didn’t; how could I?

But I loved my mom
I loved all of her
Her anger
Her fear
Her sorrow
Her shadows
Her singing and courage

I thought if I could love her shadows
I could love my own

It was hard
It took months
I looked in the mirror at my own face
And slowly I was able to have
Compassion for myself

I am sad that my mom is not
where I can touch her warmth
and tell her I love all of her
I tell her anyway

I’m finding many things as I surface from my dive
Sometimes I feel the presence of angels
I was looking for something else
I found a valentine
that she made me
No date
Many hearts cut out and glued
to red paper

I am so surprised

My mom loves me
shadows and all
now andΒ  forever.

Sometimes I feel like a motherless child Sweet Honey in the Rock

I took the photo of my mother working at the etching press while I was in college.
This was previously posted on everything2.com in 7/2014 and written before that.

Adverse Childhood Experiences 4: Psychophysiological Illness

I went to the 46th Annual OHSU Primary Care Review, held at the Sentinel Hotel in Portland, Oregon last week.

It was excellent. It was surreal since the Sentinel Hotel started as a 1923 Elks’ Club and the satyr cupid friezes kept distracting me with the marble penises and war chariots during the lecture updating us on urinary incontinence.

Three lectures that I went to talked about Adverse Childhood Experiences.

This is the first conference that I’ve been to that anyone has talked about that study since I heard about it, in about 2005. I have not been to a lot of big conferences over the last few years because I opened my own clinic and money was tight.

Anyhow, the study is creeping into consciousness.

In the mornings, we had the big lectures in a large hall. There were three break out sessions in the afternoon, held in the main meeting, billiard room, club room and library. We all joked about Colonel Mustard and candlesticks.

A gastroenterologist, Dr. David Clarke, gave a two hour session titled “Hidden Stresses and Unexplained Symptoms II”.

Objectives:
1. How to uncover the cause of an illness when diagnostic tests are normal.
2. How to find hidden psychosocial stresses that are responsible for physical symptoms.
3. The process used to achieve successful outcomes in stress-related illness.

He talked about childhood stress. That if someone had a really difficult childhood:
“Surviving a dysfunction home is a heroic act and produces individuals who are:
a. reliable and get things done
b. detail-oriented
c. Perfectionist
d. Hard-working
e. Compassionate”

So what is the down side? “Surviving a dysfunctional home also produces emotional consequences that may lead to :
a. Long-term relationships with partners who treat you poorly.
b. Addictions to nicotine, Alcohol, Drugs, Food, Sex, Gambling, Work, Shopping, Exercise.
c. Quick Temper or being violence prone
d. Anorexia and/or bulimia
e. Mental health problems such as nervous breakdown or suicide attempts
f. Sacrificing your own needs to help others
g. Self-mutilation
h. Learning not to express or feel your emotions.”

Got that? Right. Not everyone, not all the time, but the adverse childhood experiences add up. These reliable individuals may eventually get enough positive feedback to decide that they deserve a relationship that is actually good. They may get angry about their childhood or past bad treatment. “They may have a really hard time expressing that anger because they spent years learning how to suppress emotion and the feelings may be directed at people for whom there is still some caring. When there is enough of this anger present it can cause physical symptoms that can be mild or severe or anywhere in between.”

Let me give two examples from my own practice. I can’t remember their names or the details, so I am making those up: no hipaa violation.

The first was an elderly woman who came in with her husband for stomach pain. We started with a careful history. We tested for helicobacter pylori. We tried ranitidine. We tried omeprazole. We studied her diet and did an ultrasound to rule out gallbladder disease.

At the third visit I was starting to talk about an upper endoscopy. This was more than 15 years ago, back when we did not start with a CT scan. Her husband said, “Doctor, is there anything else it could be?”

I was surprised. “Well, yes. Depression is on the diagnosis list. Sometimes depression can present as stomach pain. Could you be depressed?”

My elderly lady covered her face with her hands, started crying and said, “I try not to be!” while her husband nodded.

We cancelled the endoscopy. I said it really was not something to be ashamed of and we talked about therapy. She did not want talk therapy and we tried paxil. She came back in two weeks, and already she and her husband were brighter and relieved.

Second case: again, stomach pain, this time in a four year old. Mom brought her in.

I did a history and did a gentle exam. The exam was normal. Her stomach was not hurting now. She wouldn’t say anything.

We established that the stomach pain occurred on week days only, not on the weekend. In fact, usually at the after school daycare, not in school.

“Is there a time at the school daycare that she has stomach pain?” Mom was shaking her head when big sister piped up.

“It happens before recess.” Mom and I turned to stare at the six year old.

I said, “What happens at recess?”

“The big kids knock her down,” said big sister, pissed. “I try to stop them, but they are bigger than me. She’s scared. The teachers don’t see.”

“Oh. Thank you for telling us!” Little sister was crying and mom hugged her and big sister. Mom did not need instruction at that point. She called me a few days later. She talked to the daycare, they watched and the four year old was protected. Her stomach stopped hurting.

Dr. Clarke also described a case, where driving through a town would trigger four days of nausea and vomiting that required hospitalization. This had been going on for 15 years. He figured out why that particular town was a trigger: when the patient recognized the why, he was able to go for therapy.

People aren’t lying about these illness, they are not making them up. Doctors have called it somatization, but really it is the body holding the emotions until the person is safe enough to deal with them. Doctors need to learn how to recognize this and help with respect instead of stigmatization and dismissal.

I hope that more doctors learn soon…

Dr. Clarke’s list for further reading is below. I don’t have any of these yet, but they are on my wish list.

They can’t find anything wrong!, by David Clarke, MD. See also www.stressillness.com

Psychophysiologic Disorders Association: www.ppdassociation.org

Caring for Patients, Alan Barbour, MD

Unlearn Your Pain, Howard Schubiner, MD

Pathways to Pain Relief, Frances Anderson PhD and Eric Sherman PhD

Ted talk about ACE scores: http://www.acesconnection.com/blog/nadine-burke-harris-how-childhood-trauma-affects-health-across-a-lifetime-16-min