Tag: mental-health

CITIZEN


D.C. What an education. Some colleagues and I were invited to hold a congressional briefing advocating for mental health at the Capitol the other day. Exciting stuff for us, a 48 hour crash course on DC. It’s a sexy place and you can feel the power but so much of what we heard just shook me for one, to the core. We met with some folks who work at the VA, also with some members of the State Department. Huge jump in suicides a VA staff told us. They’re not being reported. The system whereby you request support for mental health/all family disability issues is still in place, however there’s an additional and new system in place that punishes anyone who steps up asking for help specifically for mental health support or for help with handicapped members of family. One army vet and spouse of a service member, her wheelchair bound mentally handicapped young son in tow, attended to be part of the conversation. Her life has became a nightmare. She’s strong but feels betrayed. Seeing is believing. Don’t know their specific positions but State Department members I talked to get reports of huge numbers…presumably not through official channels, don’t know… of citizens who have died in direct relation to the USAID cuts in Sudan, Ethiopia and Uganda. They sited medications having been abruptly stopped, no more soy pastes, clean water filters, etc. as culprit. I’m sure there’s more, but those were the only folks we had a chance to speak to. I wanted to go to the bathroom and throw up.

With Congress on extended holiday there weren’t that many people in attendance, however, it was all on an internal video capture…presumably someone was watching on the other side of the lens? The staffers were largely there and many of them did come and hear our recommendations. They were supportive and encouraged us to keep pushing to somehow try to move ahead to a congressional hearing.

I’m doubtful what we did made a difference, but we came away learning a lot.  Also as part of a State Department visit, a Vietnam rep said they’re struggling with cuts to help identify remains.  US had pledged joint effort support for MIA and Vietnamese alike but all funding for Vietnamese was pulled.  Which among other things has upended U.S. business deals there…because we are now branded ‘unreliable partners.’

We passed by the congressional pharmacy now shuttered as no vaccines or pharmaceuticals are provided anymore. Vaclav Havel bust shrouded.  We only knew it was he because our host pointed it out. I could go on.

On the bright side there were a lot of young people, smart, motivated, compassionate, and they are about something. Frustrated and scared too.  One young press corps mentioned that everyone, is scared of Trump. That in person he is chill, even charming… then, once with an audience, how he loves to stir things up.  No shit.

I asked a small group of, again youngsters in the WH press corps…first of all why were they there I wondered? Small digital papers impressed to be in the corps as in – it had gone to their heads – anyway, asked how they dealt with the lies?  They were no Jim Acostas nor Helen Thomas’. Not a one really answered the question. They spoke of the thrill of being called on for a question/how great that was for ratings/ how much fun it was to hear him smack down Kaitlan Collins/how phenomenal that was for her personal status. Again, I wanted to throw up.  They are as much a part of the problem as anything else.  As if they were mesmerized by the king’s new clothes circus show. To a person, those who spoke up…and not that they were in favor but… they felt the Republicans would win in November and very likely Trump would be in for a third term. Their seeming complacency that the latter would be an act of treason made me want to shake them awake.

One of the many things that astonished me was who are we to do a briefing? Nobody. We’re just citizens. We are basically asking the government to reinstate cuts made to mental health support issues. And yet these handful of people showed up to hear us out. It made me see, really, how democracy is up to us. I have a third grade knowledge of how US government works, if that. But we are the ones that make it happen. We are the ones who hold it in our hands. Not all doors, but many doors here are open. Never in a million years did I think I’d be speaking in Washington D.C. but I’m grateful to have had the opportunity. Heartbreaking to drive around the city and see so many of its magnificent buildings covered in scaffolding. Some government buildings, the Department of Justice for one, had over the entrance and covering some of the building’s finer architectural features a massive portrait of a scowling Trump staring down the lens. It was comical, like movie set. In contradistinction to the standard bearing qualities of truth and justice, rule of law the image exudes pure hatred. The green reflecting pool remained…well, green.  Of course as an artist to drive by the Kennedy Center, partially in scaffolding and to know that it is closed, to think of all the staff and artists that that should be gainfully employed/the audiences denied/the habit of culture crushed…gut wrenching. I’ve sat in those seats many times over the decades and been reminded of the beauty man can create, the joy that can be stirred.

I left the D.C…our capitol…praying with all my being that better days, our compassionate soft power building nature, civility, rule of law…indeed democracy… returns.

HELLO

Something odd happened the other day, happened in my mind. I’ve been mulling it over in hopes that I could articulate what it was and have made no progress…so am just going to start writing this morning in hopes that in search of the right words, the words instead, will find me.

Here goes.  I had just come home from a morning, mountain bike ride. The first half more or less, downhill which meant ofcourse that the return was more or less, uphill. Suffice to say, for me at any rate, a push that promotes lots of steady, deep breathing and the accompanying benefits.  Blue sky day, the perfect temperature, little wind. It was peaceful, timeless in its own way.  Lots of lizards, two bunnies, the occasional crow and with only two fellow trail mates passed, definitely far away from the maddening crowd. The trail was, for the most part, along a spine of the Santa Monica Mountains which meant that it afforded views down into complex canyons with glimpses round some of the bends, out to a sapphire sliver of the mighty Pacific. You can come off one of these rides feeling pretty, darned good with a healthy rush of endorphins to boost the mood. I came home…a place I love to be…and into my office which is more playroom than office. Some exercise equipment, a chaise. Favourite family and friends’ photos, treasured books, adventure mementos, a couple of meaningful landscape paintings. Think, “A Room of Her Own.”

I curled up on the chaise just to rest I suppose, let the body come back to itself, to meditate. In that stillness, I felt some mental shift initiate. Not from a particular thought really…just a stirring, a door opening, a lift off? All of the above. Then as best as I can describe it, like shedding an outgrown layer of skin the angst of life fell away.  By that I mean an underlying tension I’ve carried for as long as I can recall of a sense of longing, not belonging, some ancient burden of disappointment, a sorrow in life of separation from what could make me happy in the marrow of my bones. Everything simplified in thought and a presence, or an identity – an energy? – stepped forward. It was my soul to which I weirdly felt prompted to say out loud no less, “Hello.”  It was as if I was seeing myself for the first time unencumbered by history, desire, gender, no need or any agenda that could complete me.  

It was some non physical identity that had ever been complete, and all along waiting for the earthly me to come to arrive at the point that it could begin to meld into …well…me.

Years ago, I was had been working very hard and had reached a point of exhaustion. I was happy in my work, so it was not any sort of depressed fatigue it was just mental and physical fatigue, the kind where your defenses are down. I had the good fortune of getting hold of a local masseuse who then skillfully plied her wares. At some point well into the session, she was working at the top of my spine and I had a full on, out of body hallucination. My identity, sans physical body, was floating in outer space and I was looking down to the beginnings of a spine being created. Somehow it was clear to me that this was a body being made for me to enter into. The story goes on from there but for these purposes this was the only relevant bit. The presence I felt on the chaise and the one I felt in the grand mysterious darkness, were one in the same. I think either something real happened or I am off my rocker.  I’m open to either. 

If real, it has something to do with being at a point in my life, at 70, of letting go. Letting go of agendas, expectations or goals… Not that I don’t still have some, but enough of them have been met, enough hurdles hurdled, valleys crawled out of, tears shed, goals reached that the struggle has calmed down. I’ve come out of the rapids into a kind of neutral zone of being. I’m still here so I’m sure there will be challenges yet tomeet, but maybe some thinning of the veil has happened so that I’m at a naissance of a continuum or understanding of a continuum that is me. If this is true for me, it is true for you. It is true for all of us.