Sex and violence

It has been a long while since I felt like writing something about this issue. Recent events have been a goad, and a sort of coming-to-terms with things in my life which have taken a lot of years to work through. The two recent events which really affected my reflecting on the issue were the arrest in NY of Doninique Strauss-Kahn, a senior diplomatic person for the IMF, who was charged with raping a maid in a hotel in NY. He was lead off the airplane in handcuffs, just before the plane was going to take off for France. The first response from France that we were told was that they thought he was "set up" for this, in order to put someone else into the top job at the IMF. The woman who was assaulted was a widow, an immigrant from an African country, and her religion is Islamic. She did not know the name or position of the person she accused. To my mind, it was almost miraculous that the hotel staff and police believed her, and arrested him so promptly.
The second case, following closely on the first, was the revelation of an affair between Governor Schwartzenegger and a housekeeper, and having had a child with this woman, who is almost the same age as his youngest child with Maria Shriver Schwartzenegger. The most interesting fact in this case, to me, was that Mr. Schwartenegger's son Patrick has said he wants to change his name to Shriver, to distance himself from his father.
Just prior to these two cases, about a week ahead of them, there was a front page article about rape in the Peace Corps, and the article said that the Foreign Affairs committee in the Senate was looking into this issue, to try to see if the Peace Corps was not properly protecting the women who serve in it, as the average number of rapes each year among volunteers is 22.
One of my physician colleagues asked incredulously whether such a thing had ever happened to me, assuming I would say no. I told him, and another doctor friend, about the case that happened to me, in Paraguay, 40 years ago. I was coming home from a far rural farming cluster of homes to our county seat, after giving a "health" talk related to my work as a health educator in a country town. On a rainy night, I was the only passenger, and was assaulted in the bus at gunpoint, by the bus driver. He temporarily went insane, as far as I could discern, and was not reachable by normal communication means. The doors were locked, and I tried to break a window, but couldn't. What ended up saving me was the reflex of defecating in my pants as he was forcibly removing them, as I was scared and fighting. I got him to let me out of the bus, and went back to the nearest farm house. I was helped to get home the next day by the good folks there. The town and my Paraguayan family were very kind, and I kept shaking and falling apart, but I was believed and supported. I had a good reputation as a Peace Corps Volunteer, and it was in my favor, that the people would believe that it was not something I brought upon myself. The lawyers and policemen and the Peace Corps officers all asked gently whether I would be willing to stay in the country, to try to help prosecute the case: and more than punishing the man, try to get a law passed, to prohibit rape in the country. Up until that time, there was no such law on the books, and the Peace Corps was trying to make them put a law in place, which would help other volunteers. As things turned out, when I left the country several months later, the law had not yet been passed, and we all thought the effort had been futile.
As everyone who knows me knows, I became a physician, an OB-GYN. I partly got this vocation out of the intent and desire to help serve other women who had been so traumatized with rape. Soon, I participated as a health educator in conferences which had to do with sexual violence of all kinds, including both rape and incest. As a physician, when I was an intern, I worked in a hospital in New York which had an average of 10 rapes a night come through our Emergency Room. We had a specific rape kit protocol, and advocates and well-trained and gentle police-women to help the victims go through this protocol of trying to get evidence which could be used in court. We would do our best to soothe them. I was able to understand why so many had become eerily numb and unable to emote. Now, in our hospitals, we have advocates who stay with the victims and they get automatic follow-up counseling, but in the early days there was no automatic referral process, or services provided.
The cases I have seen in my office are much fewer, than in those early days in an inner city hospital. I have tried to be as compassionate as possible, and also always to start the interview with the line "it also happened to me". Women are comforted to know someone else has had this happen, and gotten through it. It is important to share that with help, we can get past this trauma, but acknowledge that it will take time, and that it is ok to need a lot of reassurance, and back-up for safety.
So this is the background story for my facing these two recent cases. And I thought a lot about men in power, and men who take for granted that they can have sexual access to someone besides their wife, besides someone they might pay for this.
In Paraguay, after I left, the little daughter in my Paraguayan family grew up to be a psychologist, who teaches about rape and sexual assault, and women's rights, at the university in the capitol. And there are laws now, and my town has had a Peace Corps volunteer in it continuously for over 40 years. The modelling that we began has born good fruit, in the mores of the country. So, it seemed to me, that Peace Corps volunteers over the years may have made an immense contribution in helping women in rural and poor countries all over the world to live safer from this sort of violence. And if we helped the women, we most likely also helped the men and boys. Because some of the rapes which occur happen to young men. And it is often incest, but sometimes it is not a family member who is the attacker.
I know an American midwife who was in the Peace Corps in Yemen in 1980. She confirmed that a young woman was pregnant, with a fetal heart-beat, not a tumor in the belly. The young woman walked out of the clinic where my friend worked, and was stoned to death by the townspeople, right in front of her eyes. The young woman's father was the first to throw a stone. We cannot believe these things can still be happening, in the world we know, but they are.
When thinking about Strauss-Kahn, and his assumption that his behavior was normal or ok, I keep thinking that most likely he also was abused as a child; because relief from abuse sometimes comes from becoming the abuser, pushing the identity of the abused off onto another person. And most likely it is a long-standing pattern.
And then there is the Schwartzenegger case. It is interesting that the woman in the case is a domestic worker. I lived in Mexico, as well as in Paraguay, and it was often the case that the maids were the sexual outlet for the men in the family who hired her. Because people seldom divorced, these liasons were tolerated, over-looked, born by the women in the family as a sort of way to keep the family stability. One did not discuss the subject. If a maid got pregnant, she was sent back home with some hush-money.
What is the underlying reason that these men felt they could have access to these women? My nephew recently asked whether prostitution could be the cause. I think prostitution takes advantage of the behavior of the men, because the women and the children need the money to buy food and shelter, and the necessities of life. If a woman is not married, she may not have an income sufficient to pay the bills, and until the past 50 years, there was no dependable contraception, and often the women couldn't afford it, even if it were there. Even if a woman is married, if her husband can not get enough income to pay the bills, she may consider prostitution to supplement the income, and meet the children's needs, especially if she has no other skills.
Jim Wallis, at Sojourners, recently wrote a blog, saying he believes that until good men start speaking up, saying it is reprehensible behavior, some men will continue to be promiscuous. When other men do not approve of the behavior, we actually will have social opprobrium, to help back up laws proscribing the behavior, and punishing it. But the best answer to reducing and hopefully over time eliminating these behaviors, will be the social opprobrium of good, wholesome men.
I am a Catholic, and I have deplored and been ashamed and confounded by the ongoing revelations of clergy sexual abuse of children. I have hoped for 30 years or more that Cardinal Bernardin's rules would be put in place, to protect children within the Catholic church from this most heinous ruin of the trust of children by men who are supposed to be working for God. But I know that it occurs in other religions, and in people with no religions, and that society needs to root it out, and stop it, because these pederasts are the true bogey-men who are destroying the next generation of children. Our laws need to be clear in respect for all persons, and we need to stop the violence. Violence which is sexually-focused is always destructive, and it destroys and cripples for decades and often whole lives of the people who experience it.
Stopping the violence, and keeping the offenders safe from themselves, is of utmost urgency in every land, every culture, every society. We cannot leave it to their self-discipline, because they are crippled emotionally in this issue, and do not HAVE any appropriate self-discipline. They must be kept apart from the people they might abuse.
One of the most profoundly lovely things that happened in the Jasmine revolution in Egypt was the rescue of an American journalist woman, who was being attacked and stripped by a maddened crowd, who seemingly intended to tear her apart. The women surrounded her and covered her naked body with their huddling, soothing presence, making a wall of themselves between her and the abusers. Would this were the way we take care of all women who have been subjected to sexual violence! Unfortunately in many places, women and men are still being stoned to death for being the victims of this crime. And children are being infinitely hurt, sometimes in repetitive cases, in or out of brothels, with or without being "paid" for their enduring the unendurable.

Pilgrim to Esalen

This is the story of driving to Esalen, to get to the lady doctors' retreat. It is late March, and ever since the massive tsunami in Japan, which started with the earthquake there, we have had soaking drenching rain. The hills are so wet that we are starting to have mudslides which are dangerous, along with some falling trees. Usually the trees fall when the rainy season starts, as the ground loosens. But these are trees that made it through the rain and wind all winter, and now the ground is SO wet, they are falling. SO it is worrisome to be out driving. I also get worried because of the body-memories of the accident in which I hydroplaned, and almost died. It comes back, every time I see a slick road, and the anxiety worsens when rain is sliding down the windshield. So I was determined not to have a difficult drive, and they had said that although there was a landslide on Big Sur south of Carmel, so the northern route was closed, the southern route was still open, and would add another two hours at least, to the drive, but would be safe. There is a narrow place behind the San Antonio mission, near Lake Nacimiento, behind the Fort Hunter-Liggett army base, which goes due west from Hwy 101, over the mountains to Big Sur, and comes out just below the New Camaldoli monastery, which is just south of Esalen. This road was also open, but it is narrow, dangerous, with frequent rock and mudslides, and very windy-curving road; and they said not to attempt it after dark.
I got to Cambria at about 5 pm, with good golden evening light, and no rain all day on Monday. I had to work til 1:30, so left the office much later than I wanted to-- but got immediately on the road. Driving north into Big Sur past Hearst Castle, the ocean looked stormy, full after the rain, and the hills were so wet and velvety green I had to stop frequently to take photos. There were cattle on the hills down close to the sea. The rivulets were full, cascading down the mountain. There were gorgeous hawks floating on the updrafts, and the seagulls flying close to the waves. At Salmon creek, the water was pouring from a cataract on the steep cliff. Then there was a sign saying "road closed"-- and just beyond that, a big land-mover bulldozer. The guy in the bulldozer told me that there was another slide the night before (Sunday) and the road would not be open for at least 5 days. I drove back to the inn at Ragged Point, and called Esalen. They said they would refund the room cost, and were sympathetic. I met another woman physician who couldn't get through, and she had decided to stay the night there, as she had her aged mom with her, and they were tired. It was almost 6 pm when I turned around to go home, figuring I could get home by about 9 or 9:30. Around King City, it was getting dark, and I thought maybe I could stay in the hotel next to the Ft. Hunter-Liggett army base, and so I took the road west, thinking I would get up early and go over the Nacimiento road early in the morning. Well, they have changed the road, and it didn't ever seem I was near any hotel, or the mission either. Suddenly I was on the mountain, in the Los Padres National forest. It was open. So I just kept going, thinking "ok, I guess I WILL get there tonight!" This was not so smart, but I kept saying to myself, "I am a Peace Corps volunteer-- I can DO this!" After a few curves in the road, and passing one white pickup truck, I realized I was likely to be totally alone on that road. I kept the high beams on, but realized they looked like parking lights, in what they could illuminate. The air was balmy, spring-like. The road runs next to a creek. I opened the windows and the skylights-- the roar of the full-spate creek and some frogs were filling the air. The wet mountainside had some trickles, and musty smell, and new shoots of ferns. The big live oaks were gorgeous in the headlights, and some willows, over the tops of the newly plowed areas with piles of dirt along the road. Probably 1/3 of the road had been newly plowed, and you couldn't see over the sides of those piles of dirt. The road was so sinuous and winding, I felt that at any moment I would fall into the creek, or a humk of mountain would fall on me. I felt that it was just like Dante, in the middle of my life, in the middle of the night, losing my way in a dark forest. Overhead, I had opened the skylight, and there were masses of stars in the dark sky-- no lights for at least 50 miles in every direction. A great white horned owl flew over about 10 inches above the skylight-- I thought it might enter the car-- it was so powerful-- a watching wild spirit. I kept creeping along at 10-20 miles an hour, being glad I had just had the car checked, and that I had gotten gas just a little before King City, so almost had a full tank. But it was definitely that feel of being alone on the mountain, possibly never to be found again. The road climbs slowly, then at some point it starts to descend. Utter blackness ahead, unable to see past the piles of dirt on my right or left, as we twisted through the pass. No other cars. Finally, I felt the air change, and we were at the sea. Ahead of me were millions of stars in an uninterrupted sky. I saw a sign saying HWY 1. So I had made it to the Big Sur. I turned right, heading north. NO cars. Empty, silent; and then a one-lane place with monstrous backhoes and bulldozers parked alongside, and the signal lights still working. The sky was immense, full of stars. I passed the monastery, and then was on the two-lane empty road, heading toward Esalen. I got there at 9:45 pm. I was exhausted, and yet exhilirated! I would be able to see those fantastic women doctors; brilliant, powerful, amazing, strong women-- and participate in the retreat! Shangri-la! I had to find my room, and then I went down to soak in the baths. Lowering my tense body into the hot water, I looked up at the sky full of stars, and thanked God for the help getting me there. I had not really intended to take that road, at least at night, but it happened. It was such a metaphorical lesson in just putting "one foot in front of the other"-- and so I continue to continue...
The next morning, I woke up to a sunny bright spring day, at the place which always feels like heaven to me.

"The Passion of Christ", the movie by Mel Gibson

My reaction to the Passion of Christ movie by Mel’ Gibson, by martina

My first sentence was “it is as it was”, which was originally attributed to the Pope, then denied, but still is a good review. One does not simply see, one experiences it. Also, all the night and waking in the morning, I had the old Negro spiritual singing in my mind, 
“were you there when they crucified my Lord?” Whenever I would shudder, the line “sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble” sang through me. I also thought of the great saints, how hard they worked to imagine this sequence of events in total detail, to bring themselves into it, to try to understand it. St. Ignatius gives the spiritual exercises, with the whole 3rd week to place oneself in the walk with Christ through the gospel of the condemnation and scourging and carrying the cross and the crucifixion. In order to feel the repentance and sorrow necessary to really hate one’s own sins, to want to throw away from oneself the qualities which create this suffering, is the whole point of the stations of the cross, and the re-reading of this gospel; the need to recognize the gift of redemption, which is beyond our own ability to give ourselves. Each of us needs to be able to feel we have nailed the nails into his hands, put that crown of thorns into his brow. I remember Austria, the total detail of the monstrous crosses with blood flowing down them, All through the ages, we have been trying to imagine, and take ourselves into, and be repentant for this scene. Now we have such a clear picture, without being saints, without being given a “mystical showing” such as that experienced by Julian of Norwich, or St. Francis of Assisi.
It was interesting too, that on the previews for movies in the next few months, there was one for “Troy”. I think of generations of school boys who have struggled to learn Greek, to read Homer and understand what is going to be seen in this movie, with no effort at all, by boys like my sons. The Greek fleet is a flotilla on a windy sea in the preview—I had never imagined so many boats. Similarly, I now can see Pilate, his silver armor, and his assistant in the hard-ridden thick leather chest armor. I can see the whole Sanhedrin, the kinds of robes they wear, the jewels on their robes, the crosiers they carry. And the path itself through that stony town, and the hillside, which is now covered with buildings. The flashbacks are so beautiful, I deeply yearn to stay in them to get away from the pain and violence, but also to experience Jesus as a boy, as a young carpenter, and to taste the bread and the wine, and look into his eyes when he is laughing and gentle, and not being crucified. The whole movie is theologically grounded and true to the Gospel. I did not feel any anti-Semitism. There are bullies in every age, and men who use power wrongly. I saw Jesus as a sort of toxic waste dump, the hole in the fabric of creation which we can use to send our garbage so that it doesn’t stink up the world. He spins the straw into gold, he turns the hatred to love. He is so present, so full of love; Even on the cross, he calls out to God for forgiveness of the tormentors. I don’t even think the brutality or violence in this film are excessive. That is how it was, It was a brutal and excessively cruel death. Since then, every mother losing a son, every son wrongly tortured and dying too young can take comfort in the redemption Christ offers us through this act of love. No one can say that God doesn’t understand their pain. No one can say that God abandons us in the pit of despair. I think of Elie Wiesel, saying (paraphrase) “anything you say about God, you muxt be able to say over the pit of dead bodies at Auschwitz.” Yes, the cross explains and stands for the Holocaust too. And saints like Edith Stein, St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross, gave themselves as a holocaust to take on the sufferings of Christ, to make up in their own selves a gift to help redeem the world. One of the things the movie shows is the place in the temple where the curtain is rent. I had imagined this as a narrow and tall place. In the movie, it is more square, and the curtain is not velvety. And the bowls of fire, for light and for the sacrifices, probably, are so dramatic. These are the kind of details the movie makes possible. Also, the blood pouring from Christ’s side when the roman soldier lances it washes him, and he falls to his knees, in adoration, converted from his blood lust. And the wondering face of the solider whose ear is cut off by Peter in the garden of Gethsemane—his face after Christ puts his ear back on and heals him. His inability to “carry on” as if nothing had happened.
I think this movie will be a staple of Christian education, and that there are few details which will be imagined differently in the future. Maybe scholars will come up with a few more things to know, and maybe in 30 years someone will make a movie with even better graphics, but this is as concrete as one can make it, at the present time. It is highly aesthetic, for all the violence. And it just may contribute to Christian unity in new ways, as “the way we see it” coheres us as a community of believers.
When Andy was a small boy, I cried when our church started using the ceremony of the “washing of the feet” with pitchers of water and towels, up on the altar, on Holy Thursday. Andy was one of the first people to run up and be part of it, carefully pouring water over the foot of the person before him, and wiping his foot gently., then waiting for it to be done for himself. I have always loved that ceremony, and think it is one of the most concrete rituals for getting us to treat each other with generosity and respect. But we didn’t start doing it in church till I was over 40. It has been built into my son’s consciousness from such an early age. Now he has this movie, at the age of 15, to help him understand the gift of redemption. It is so needed, that our children have movies, because they are not really used to reading, and their imaginations aren’t inspired by books like my generation was. It remains to be seen whether it will inspire more people to become converted, to accept the need for forgiveness and redemption. I believe it will help to spread the good news of the Gospel. For that, Mel Gibson should be thanked, and I am sure he feels he has done what he was meant to do.

(I wrote this the year the movie came out, and decided to re-post it for Lent)

Health care: right or privilege?

Our society is pretty thick with buffers in providing food, housing and disaster relief. Most of us think human beings should be treated like we would want to be treated, and that it is inhumane not to do the best we can to help alleviate suffering. There are a lot of ways the delivery of heath care could be seen as a public utility, and legislation could focus on the way we use health care, the regulation of profits, the payment for health care coverage (not really insurance, because it is needed as a maintenance of health also) in either tax incentives or benefits for individuals and families, and so on.
So the whole thing becomes the big ball of wax and tangled gordion knot that we know it to be. Some system-makers, and people who want to have everything be "fair and the same for all" remind me of naive parents who think they will be able to treat their children EXACTLY the same. In reality, the more we stick protocols to each disease, and force the "providers" to follow them, the stiffer and meaner the Bureaucracy with a big B will become. And what will happen is the same thing that occurs in any system --- there will be some outliers, some non-responders, some bewildering failures, and more nit-picking to cover these scenarios.
We weren't able to take the profits out of the insurance industry by capping what their profits should be, like a true public utility. We have also not been able to curb the profits of the pharmaceutical corporations, and the patent laws and US protectionism are being used against us and our patients. Physicians are not a strong-enough lobby to be able to get ourselves paid better, and ultimately, the "extenders" will be how they stretch the dollars.
We are probably on a long trajectory of shifting pollicies, as we go forward. And some people will keep arguing about rights and needs and obligations, in order to try to get more patients better care in a systemically coherent way.
One of my favorite stories is in the book "Mountains beyond Mountains" about Dr. Paul Farmer and his work with Partners in Health. Dr. Jim Kim has that brilliant kind of mind of a systems-oriented thinker. And he looked at the TB-DOTS program, and tinkered with what it would take to really fix it-- and he was able, by a few international miracles, to get some new pharmaceutical companies to come forward and make the drugs cheaper, so more poor patients with multi-drug-resistant TB could be effectively treated.
That is the kind of paradigm shift we need now. We need IUDs to not cost $800 apiece. We need oral contraceptives to be "affordable" to poor women on Medicaid. We need seniors to get preventive care so they won't come in with super-advanced problems which are harder to effectively treat. But we also know that keeping people healthy costs more than letting them suffer and die. And so we face these intrinsic limits all the time about what is actually "reasonable" or "the standard of care"-- or something EVERYONE should have ( which is how I think a lot of unreflective people would define a "right"). There are practical details which can easily be helped, and others which are extremely difficult to change. But change is inexorable, and we really can't stay the same. We already see it in the push for palliative care, and more Hospice care. There is a struggle, and people fall on different parts of the spectrum, but more are starting to be adamant about not wasting precious medical resources at end-of-life. The shift is in the whole society, not just the medical "providers". Business people are weighing in, as well as the ethicists. Things are getting curioser and curioser!

more on mental illness and societal support

There have been gains in mental health care in the past 50 years. Some medications have made it possible for previously hospitalized patients to live in the regular world and even hold jobs. But some care is often still needed, and these ...patients often have poor insight and poor skills for managing their own illness, and their own lives. Often, they would do best in an assisted-living facility, with someone acting like a house-mother, watching to be sure they eat, drink enough fluids so they don't get dehydrated, take their medicines, and see their doctors regularly. When they start to get sicker, and withdraw, this house-mother is invaluable in alerting the medical team, to be able to step up the care.
People who really want to understand more are urged to go to the NAMI website for advocacy for the mentally ill. Also, I recommend the book, "Surviving Schizophrenia" for families and advocates of patients, by Dr. Torrey. We simply MUST try to make it safer for mentally ill patients to live in our world. It is dangerous and complicated, and they need and deserve our help.

Mental illness, Parents, and Support of Society

I think that many parents struggle to help with their children with mental illnesses as long as the parents are alive. But the fact is, it becomes harder to control their behavior-- harder to get them to take their medicine, harder to make... them get up in the morning, or do the dishes, or go to the doctor. Some parents have been terribly hurt by out-of-control rage attacks by mentally ill almost-grown or adult children. Schizophrenics sometimes hear voices which are terrible and compelling, screaming at them to kill or hurt people they would normally love. We cannot pretend this is easy. I am a gynecologist. I have had mothers with mentally ill daughters come to me in tears, as they strive to help meet the family planning needs of their daughters. These moms know that if she gets pregnant, the primary caregivers for their grandchildren will be themselves-- older and more tired than they already are. Mental health services are also very hard to come by, and no insurance company wants to give this care to grown children, without prohibitive policy fees. Many mental illnesses are waxing and waning in nature, and sometimes the patient needs hospitalization, which is extremely expensive. In Arizona, there is almost no medical care for the uninsured, poor, unemployed mentally ill. In some schools, the school is required to help until the student turns 18-- then they are on their own. Why are these patients living under bridges, and alongside highways, where rape and murder happens so easily? Because we don't want to abridge their freedom! In California, Ronald Reagan emptied the mental hospitals, so that these poor patients could enjoy this freedom-- but no follow-up clinics got set up to help them when they failed to be able to care for themselves! This is blind and stupid, to not look at their need for safety, their fragility and their vulnerability to the terrible curse of mental illness. Their poor parents-- being told to "keep on, keeping on," because society does not want to help shoulder the burden for their care!

Turning 60

Well, this has been an interesting year. I am slowing down, as much as I am trying to increase my stamina by walking the dog on the beach and swimming. It was great to have time with my Vienna friends this fall in Lake Tahoe. We had a great time together, as we have always enjoyed ourselves: each time it seems more precious and wonderful. This time there was the sadness of having Jimmy Stewart die suddenly this spring, and we were able to have a celebration of his life. We all know that our futures are narrowing down.
I am glad that I have just gotten the fourth book of my poems-- "Fiesta for the Camarillos". It has been a long-time waiting for it-- the photos added extra time to the printing, and I have been really worried that my mom may not be able to see it or enjoy it, if it didn't get here soon! So I am so glad they arrived this week. It is dedicated to my mom and my aunt Geraldine, and I can't wait to give it to them.
Mom got very sick this past two weeks, and has been in a convalescent home to recover from a severe infection. I can't go down til next weekend, as I have a conference tomorrow morning and also my FMM group. These docs have been the mainstay of my health and well-being in trying to practice medicine. Such tremendous pressures from all sides have been happening within medicine, and it is getting harder to maintain the sanctity and privacy and nurturance of the doctor-patient relationship, with all the corporate/insurance and electronic-record-keeping oversight. It is so annoying that I want to quit, until I am actually needed to do something REAL for a patient. But I can see that it is coming, that I will be willing to walk away soon, and it will be ok to leave it in the hands of the young and eager doctors coming through the pipeline. I DO feel lucky to have two great young partners-- both Larisa Taylor and now Laetitia Oderman are great and dedicated young doctors. It was such a terrible blow to me to have a partner about 10 years ago who was NOT willing to put the extra work and care into the job, and seemed to keep trying to skim the cream and leave the really hard stuff to the older docs. I am grateful to have weathered the difficulties that personality-type caused our practice, and to have found other dedicated young doctors coming forward to take care of patients.
It has been a real blessing to me to have these 3 years in Al Anon. I have learned a huge amount-- very helpful insight into the "professional co-dependent" world I occupy-- and more tools for self-care, and better insight into when I need to take care of myself, too. This has also been a boon to being able to give practical help and insight to patients, as so many women suffer with these same issues.
It does seem as though we just celebrated Christmas, and we are turning around and it is Christmas again! The rains have started, the persimmons are turning golden-orange, the deciduous trees are flaming, and Isis is now 3 and 1/2, and becoming more of an adult dog than a puppy. She is really great for walks on the beach, and today a guy whose dog's name is "Blue" although I don't know his name, told me what a great dog Isis is-- enthusiastic, independent, friendly and well-behaved! So I am doing ok as a dog-owner, I guess. The waves were huge this morning, and the mist was rising off the tops of the back-curls, and it made me think of Malibu when I was young, near the Bauers' house. I always love it when the ocean is that translucent jade color, too.
I did my laps at the pool, and was happy to get into the steam bath today, also. It has been interesting to use the pool as the main tool for self-care, and trying to do the "HALT" behaviors-- "hungry, angry, lonely and tired"-- 12 step programs suggest finding tools for dealing with these hard times so that the self-care keeps us from falling back into self-defeating behaviors.
I am very excited about getting to go back east to sing with Bill Mulroney and his band, the Second Wind Bandits-- they are doing a gig at Blues Alley in Georgetown on Nov 29, and I get to sing "Velveteen Rabbit" with them! Today I spent the whole afternoon after I got back from the pool trying to fix the website for the Vienna friends, and get the song onto the site. I need to get a tutoring update from Apple-- but I got some of it online! Onward and upward. And back to writing the poems for book 5! I can't believe that I had said to myself that I would like to have 4 books of poems by the time I die, and I have made it! It really is a miracle!!