HEALing reflection on caring from "the other"

Littman Stethoscope - a tool of the trade,
but not always essential to hear what is needed.

Picture credit to: https://www.google.ca/searchq=littmann+stethoscope +classic+ii&rlz=1C1CHFX_enCA563CA563&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved= 
0ahUKEwju7dDF-e3RAhVLx2MKHcekA-8Q_AUICCgB&biw=1540&bih=804#tbm
=isch&q=littmann+stethoscope+black+and+gold&imgrc=Q3AYrwNkQLgZAM%3A

So I find myself in the doctor’s office, I am waiting for her familiar, humming “Pum pum pum.” as she segues from her previous patient to me. I hear the creak of her chair as it turns, I visualize her swinging around and standing to stroll a few steps to enter through the door to the small sterile clinical room for my regular visit. She is my new doctor and I have only seen her a few times. She is well dressed, confident, professional, with a stethoscope draped around her neck. She looks at me, directly into my eyes and asks, "How are you doing?” 

I can only react with a shoulder shrug and tears spring into my eyes. She reaches forward and touches my leg with one hand and reaches with the other for a tissue and passes it to me. 

Through quiet sobs I respond, "I don't know.”  

She waits for me to say more. Seconds pass. She waits, to listen, to me.

I am silent. 

She continues, "I can only imagine. You have had a lot to deal with. I think you are not ready, no where near ready to go back to work. You need some time and it might be a longer time than you think.” 

She does not look away or busy herself with her computer; she holds her gaze on me. I look down and tears spill down into my lap. 

I say, "I don't know what to do.”

Softly she replies, "I do.” 

          So how did I know I was cared for? Physicians get paid for approximately a 10 minute visit. Time is  always short in health care. Patience is often short in health care. So in my weakest emotional state, my doctor ( the other ) took the time to wait for me to respond, was comfortable in the silence and my nonverbal response. She took the time to care enough to touch me and provide a small gesture of understanding with a tissue. She listened with her other senses, and heard my silent loss. She did not avert her gaze but held the moment and looked into the desperate eyes of a mother's grief. She "heard" through my inability, and ascertained what needs I had and was willing to support me through the darkest of despair. I knew she would help me. I knew she cared.

          Purely by another person taking notice, of my being recognized, and having my feelings and inability acknowledged gave me hope for help and possibility. Potential movement forward; one tiny step towards something beyond complete stasis and being locked, frozen in a dysfunctional existence, now with a promising beginning of at least a partial recovery and maybe some healing of the deepest wound one can sustain. 

HEALing self and sharing care

Painted by Neva Bruce

As I attended this past weekends class, I am happier to be more connected to more members of the HEAL cohort. As in this painting, it seems as if there are layers of learning. Some layers are a bit foggy or dark, some are definitely more clear, and I am starting to have some of them all blend a bit together. This is all good.

         I do find the scheduling of my life quite challenging, and am feeling a bit overwhelmed with the tasks at hand. I slipped out to my small space to have a few moments of quiet and peace and a short Tibetan singing bowl moment.  These moments somehow reset my anxiousness, my attitude, and allow me to reflect on a discussion that was challenging around workload, sharing, communication and overall success.

        Sorting out priorities and sharing the wealth of responsibilities among shifting role configurations. Life is complicated but not impossible. After all we are here for the duration, however long that is. Doing the best I can and tomorrow will be better than today for the difficulty passed.

        

         Care involved reassurances of my not so visible love and care today.
         Making me feel better for it. 

To Rest, To Relax, To HEAL

Afternoon Sun - Photo by Neva Bruce

A sunny day just after lunch and I get in the passenger side of the car and say, "So where are we headed?"
She says, "Up island to my art studio." We chat along the way as to what each of us have been doing since the last time we were together. Eventually we arrive in Qualicum and I help her carry boxes, canvases, and cases of art supplies into this small art studio and gift shop. I follow her all the way through to the back around various hallways; left, then right, then left again, through the door and into a private space with two long empty tables, and three steel chairs. There are several paintings, by various artists lining the walls. As I wonder along viewing the art displayed, I notice her pulling canvases out and setting out two sets of brushes.
I question, "What are you doing?"
She says, " I am setting you up to paint." as she squishes cerulean blue, cad red, cad yellow and others colours from slightly mangled metallic tubes,laying the selected brushes on top of a 12" x 18" plain white canvas.
" I don't paint!"I state emphatically.
She says, "Everybody can paint."
I retort, "Not me! I nearly failed art in grade seven. My teacher told me I would never draw or do anything artistic!"
She says kindly, "Don't worry, there is no test. Just pic any picture from your phone and start. It doesn't matter, just start."

               From that experience I learned that our past does not have to determine our future, that anyone can paint with support and no judgment. Art does not have to be anything; not a certain colour or texture or line. My art is mine and mine alone. It is for me. I have spent the last two years in self discovery of art and have found its therapeutic value in promoting rest, relaxation and healing.
               Within the HEAL mandate to find a practice, I find myself trying to define one and then initiate and maintain said practice. I have found this challenging. Maybe because my focus is broad and multifaceted, but I find my self judging, chastising and regretting, which leads to "falling off the wagon". So, I have been thinking a lot about self care, redefining and becoming more forgiving towards myself.
              My practice plan of self care is divergent but primarily focused on my physical health. I was thinking this needs to include rest and often rest means sleep, but it has become more than sleep. Rest has become a break for myself; not just a physical break, but a mental one as well.
               Of course self care includes personal care, hygiene, bathing, oral care, eating, sleeping, posture, exercise, general checkups on personal health issues, even our interactions with others. Self care includes protection and maintenance of the physical self, but also of ones' mental health.
               If I am to have self care, I need to have some space and time that I alone have control over, where I can sit quietly uninterrupted, have a shower without rushing, and not feeling any pressure to meet others needs, to truly spend time with myself. To do this and take care of myself, I have to understand, develop and maintain boundaries. I am reflecting on what my life has been, and is becoming. This is an interesting process.


Merriam - Webster definitions include
Rest as
1 : repose, sleep specifically a bodily state characterized by minimal functional and metabolic activities
2 : freedom from activity or labour, a state of motionlessnes or inactivity, the repose of death
3 : a place for resting or lodging
4 : peace of mind or spirit
5 : a rhythmic silence in music, a character representing such a silence, a brief pause in reading
6 : something used for support

Relax as
1 : to become or to cause something to become less tight tense or stiff
2 : to stop feeling nervous or worried
3: to spend time resting or doing something enjoyable especially after you have been doing work

Heal as
To become healthy or well again.

Tibetan singing bowl - Photo by Neva Bruce

Sometimes, I just need to clear my head and using my Tibetan singing bowl really helps. Taking the time to go to my studio, spend a few minutes to calm my mind and de-stress, concentrating only on the technique used to produce the sound, listening to the undulations of pitch is very grounding. Intent on the sound as it fades.

A moment of self care. A pause. A moment to reflect, Breathe.

HEALing wounds

Photo by Neva Bruce - Steveston

“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.”

- Rumi

This quote is important as I am learning a lesson I may never had without being wounded.

We learn things from all that surrounds us, not just the formal teachers. We are our experiences, in that what we take from our experiences shapes who we are. I believe everyone has suffered something. The past two and a half years, generally have been filled with suffering.

So here goes.... from the start.

Our son died in February 2014, my father-in-law in June, my own father in July 2015, my mother in December 2015, and in the midst I lost my job.

People ask me, "How are you doing?" I say, "It is hard."

In short, no appropriate words can describe the loss. I was lost.  My vocabulary disappeared along with my energy, my desires, my will, my vitality. Vanished. 

I am in the middle of a tsunami, tossed like a rag doll, freezing cold, I am drowning I can't breathe, sure I am going to die, and then I pop up like a cork, take a breath and am thrown right back into the depths of despair; a deep, dark and cold place alone with my thoughts and my grief. 

Tossed back and forth with the flow and ebb, listless floating, mindless, waiting for the next wave.

Dumbfounded, displaced, and depressed through significant loss; a gash so deep there is forever a crevice, un-suturable, unsealable, having to heal from the inside out and now somehow just emerging with the recognition that my previous life lacked much I was not aware of. 

This has been my journey.

Leaning into HEAL

My life was good; work, family, love, care, health, home, good food, friends, professional network, social support. No real needs. Interrupted by the unimaginable, followed by the roughest ride ever. Unbeknownst to me, eventually, I was forced to care. Not about others, about me. The work that I did while not "working" has been about recognizing my own needs. Taking care of me, setting boundaries, while not being much of a wife, or a mother, friend, companion or really anything else.

The healing began once I hit the bottom, paralyzed by grief, anxiety and depression, unable to eat, sleep, or really participate in life. I was forced to accept my situation and make a decision to move forward. Slower than a snail. Counsellor, psychiatry assessment, psychologist sessions, beginning to eat, walk, develop a routine, learning to breath, see people and talk, begin to socialize in small groups, meanwhile trying to hold the fragile porcelain broken pieces of myself together. 

It is difficult to share ones "failure". I was raised with the concepts of; don't let anyone see you cry, never be angry, always look on the bright side. Often I was told, "No one wants to know about your problems. I when we share, we learn and this makes us human, normalizing our imperfections. 

Life is a process, and I am working and breathing into the concept that I am perfectly imperfect!