Tag Archives: Beloved

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Adverse Childhood Experiences 9: crisis wiring

I spoke to a patient recently about ACE scores. A veteran. Who has had trouble sleeping since childhood.

“What was your childhood like?” I say. “Was sleeping safe?”

“No, it wasn’t. We were in (one of the major cities) in a very bad part of town.”

“So not sleeping well may have been appropriate. To keep you safe. To survive.”

We both think this veteran has PTSD.

“I think I had PTSD as a child. And then the military made it worse.”

I show the veteran the CDC website and ACE pyramid: https://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/acestudy/about.html.

Adverse childhood experiences. Leading to disrupted neurodevelopment. Leading to a higher risk of mental health disorders, addiction, high risk behavior, medical disorders and early death.

Ugly, eh? Damaged children.

“But I don’t agree with it.” I say.

My veteran looks at me.

“Disrupted neurodevelopment.” I say. “I don’t agree with that. Different neurodevelopment. Crisis neurodevelopment. We have to have it as a species in order to survive. Think of the Syrian children escaping in boats, parents or sibling drowning. We have to have crisis wiring. It isn’t wrong, it’s different. The problem is really that our culture does not support this wiring.”

“You can say that again.”

“Our culture wants everyone to be raised by the Waltons. Or Leave it to Beaver. But the reality is that things can happen to any child. So we MUST have crisis wiring. Our culture needs to change to support and heal and not outcast those of us with high ACE Scores.”

My Veteran is quiet, thinking that over.

I say, “You may read more about ACE scores but you do not have to. And we can work more on the sleep. And we do believe more and more that the brain can heal and can rewire. But you were wired to survive your childhood and there is no shame in that.”

 

I took the picture in Wisconsin in August.

 

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the deer remind me

the deer remind me

the deer are not a metaphor
nor simile
they don’t mean anything
they are in town
because we don’t shoot them
outside the town limits
they are shy

here they cross at the crosswalks
and teach their young
about cars and trucks

the deer remind me

each time I see them
they have no voice
I remember
we think of bambi, gentle
and tragedy of a mother’s death

are deer gentle?
they are strong
fast, we are told hooves can kick
sharp and wound

I sing to deer
when I come across them
almost daily

they look at me
singing, watch me

the deer want to live
as I do too

the deer are not a metaphor
and yet they remind me
to be gentle
and that I am strong
and fleet
and can run when I have to

even when I do not have a voice

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tall tree

previous

Our heron flew to these trees: see? I crop the photo and there she is.

P1090149

I am saying she, but I don’t know. For so long we have used “he” to mean both he and she. Let’s reverse that for the next 2000 years, use “she” to mean both she and he. Turn around is fair, right?

And those are really big trees. She doesn’t look so out of place standing there. Nor would I have noticed her if I had not followed her flight.

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release

For the Photo Challenge: layered. And today’s poem.

 

release

I can’t do it, Beloved

or no
I don’t know how, Beloved

release old grief, I am told

I am to have the intention daily
to release old grief

it sits in my throat
aching lump, knot, old
I don’t know how old
is it from before birth
I haven’t looked up whether antibodies
to tuberculosis
cross the placenta
attacking

Kell kills
that is one of the antibodies
that can kill a fetus

I have the grief
a tiger by the tail

at first I was afraid
that releasing it would lose
some core part of myself
that the me I have built
is the nacre, a pearl
wrapped around a core of grief

but Beloved
I try to listen
I try so hard to listen
to have faith
why pay for help
without attempting to follow
the ideas
unless they are so clearly wrong

conversation
with myself
the past the woman the girl the child the fetus
let the grief go
gently

Beloved
maybe I am not gentle enough
full speed ahead
maybe I need to cradle the grief more
rock it, comfort it, thank it
grief, you protected me so much
from the patterns in the family

Beloved
maybe I need to thank the grief
before I let it go

 

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I am sorry about the wings

I am sorry about the wings

During the massage today
my poor back aches so
where my wings should be

Guilt

If the Beloved gives me wings
I should fly

but I would rather be in the water
I feel so much safer here

and then I think
maybe I should stop
jumping off of cliffs…..

I should stop jumping off of cliffs….

I follow that thought
I should stay in the water
keep my tail and scales

I have come out so many times

lately only for you

you will not come in the water

you don’t want to hear me sing

you want me to be silent and listen

you want me to agree about the past

and collapse

I say here

here is the future

I can see it
and you don’t answer

you don’t listen
when I return to the sea

you call me
and you come to the edge of the sea
to call me
but you won’t come in

I have come out to you
on those painful legs
for which I sacrifice my voice

you would have scales and a tail
if you came to me
come to the future with me

we will meet at the edge of the sea
me in the sea
you on the beach
and talk

but this is goodbye
I won’t come out again

and I say to the Beloved
I am sorry about the wings
I will use the wings

my back was so sore
where the wings were

the wings are back

I still have my scales and tail

I rise to the surface of the sea
I spread my wings
scales, tail and wings

I begin

now I will fly

8/3/16

Another fog photograph from last Saturday. Why don’t we spell it phog?