Four Wheeling

I got a new walker.

I named her The Phoenix, though sometimes "she" is a "he" or an "it" instead of a "she."

My plan is to be able to get more weight-bearing exercise with the walker, which is hard to do without the walker because I can't walk too far without my back getting too weak to continue.

My current goal is to walker 10 miles per week and bicycle at least 40 miles per week. I'll have to work up to both of those. In winter months, I may have to resort to mall-walkering and spinning indoors on my trainer, neither of which are appealing to me.

Right now, I walker on the Par Course which is about 4 miles from our home. I like it for a few reasons, one being, it's a dirt path instead of pavement..

The hip-healing is coming along nicely. I feel I'm on the other side of the woods in that regard.

I get my next epidural this afternoon. My appointment is at 4:00 PM. It will be #14 since January, 2014.

A friend shared with me what her friend, who has a walker decored with lights and bling, shared with her:
"Walkers are the new sexy."

Native grasses

*~*
A plant is only a weed because it grows in a spot where I don't want that particular plant.
*~*


Coryell states, "Pluck out the thoughts [that are not going to take you where you want to go] as if they were weeds in your garden."

My mental image presented me with a vegetable garden. The garden is in its early phase with a few raised rows of tender sprouts. The gardener, me, is squatted over one of the rows, plucking a weed. I am wearing a hat and long sleeve shirt and jeans, even though I never wear jeans. The sun is warm and bright. The air crisp like in early spring. It is morning.

There aren't many weeds, and there aren't many tender vegetable sprouts. Mostly lots of red dirt mounds awaiting offspring.

As I pluck the weed I talk to it, but not out loud. We communicate via telepathy.

You're only a weed because I don't want you to grow here. You're welcome to grow in the meadow right over there.

The meadow is green and beige and brown and purple, a display of native grasses. But it doesn't look like early spring, more like late summer and early fall. There are some tiny white and yellow wild flowers...

I sit observing the image for a few moments. I like it.

*click*

I take a mental photo of the scene.


~*~
I like that I honor the weed and let it know it has a welcome place, just not in that spot.

Sometimes that's what I tell spiders or ants or gnats that are inside the house, before I swat them or put them outdoors...
~*~

Complaint Overview

[I originally posted the complaint below, and the accompanying links, around August 21, 2011. At the time when I originally posted, I chose to redact Knapp's name and the specific dates. I originally posted the complaint here: the page where I originally posted it. I changed the content of that page in October, 2016.]
_______

_______

Update: On January 14, 2014, New York state determined its ruling regarding the NY state license of John M. Knapp (identified as "practitioner" in my complaint below).

John M. Knapp was
"...Found guilty of professional misconduct; Penalty: Revocation...Licensee was found guilty of practicing his profession with negligence, as well as with incompetence, on more than one occasion, and of unprofessional conduct."
See January, 2014 Summaries of Regents Actions on Professional Misconduct and Discipline



Click the following links for what constitutes "professional misconduct" and "unprofessional conduct."
Professional Misconduct
Unprofessional Conduct
_______
_______

~*~

Click here for helpful information in regard to When You Need to File a Complaint Against a Mental Health Care Provider or Facility. 

This link lists ethical standards for Social Workers: Code of Ethics of the National Association of Social Workers

This link outlines a working ethical framework regarding professional online mental health therapy and therapists' participation in social media & networking: Ethical Framework for the Use of Social Media by Mental Health Professionals

(Note: For the purpose of posting the complaint transcription on this blog, I excluded names, identifying information, specific dates, and one piece of personal information regarding the practitioner.)
~*~

_________

Formal Complaint Overview

September 3, ***0

Filed by **************

phone: ***-***-****

(I realize I may have included too much information, but I wasn't sure what and what not to include.)

****

I am filing a complaint regarding [practitioner], in the following three categories which are listed on the Mental Health Association of New York, Inc., website. These categories are stated under "Complaints About Care by Practitioners" at this link, When You Need to File A Complaint Against A Mental Health Care Provider or Facility.

The categories are:

• Overstepping the boundaries of the professional relationship
• Negligence
• [...] verbal abuse of a client

I. Overstepping the Boundaries of the Professional Relationship

Relationships Overview (I expound on certain of these relationships, and supply emails, in the corresponding papers enclosed with this complaint packet.):
Following is an overview of my various relationships with [practitioner] and their development. Not all of these are overstepping boundaries and I considered all of them healthy at the time. I would still probably consider them so, except (in hindsight) for the way that (imo) they opened the door for the relationship to end as it did with my ex-therapist's ([practitioner's]) verbal abuse and negligence.
With each new relationship (except for #8 below), [practitioner] and I discussed it ahead of time (and at times throughout the relationships) and that they were not outside ethical boundaries. I also want to say that [practitioner] was excellent while our relationship was client-therapist. It was once the boundaries got blurred, which (imo) probably began with #6 below, that (in hindsight) things began to go awry.

• 1 - I hire [practitioner] as my therapist around July, ***8. I had previous counseling since [8 years previous] with two other mental health care providers, with whom I have good relationships. I chose to hire [practitioner] because of his speciality with cult-recovery, which includes spirtiual, psychological, and emotional abuse. [Practitioner] and my appointments/communications were via phone and (later) Skype. Emails were also utilized.

• 2 - I join [practitioner's] online support group, as a client. This was sometime around September, ***8. The online chatroom later changed from being an online chat to a group conference phone call which was held on Monday nights. I was a beginning and core member until [practitioner] abruptly cut off contact with me on August 2, ***0.

• 3 - I hire [practitioner] as my life coach sometime after my "gradutation" in September, ***9. [Practitioner] and I considered me "graduated" from regular therapy in September, ***9. At some point after that I hired [practitioner] as a life coach; that was different than me being a therapy client, though some of my life coaching sessions ended up as therapy sessions. After I "graduated," I would state that [practitioner] was my "previous" therapist; however, the reality was that I was still getting therapy as I would hire him as needed for regular counseling but wanted to consider myself still "graduated." I discussed this with [practitioner] comparing it to hiring any other professional with an expertise. Say like a plumber. The plumbing gets fixed but from time to time still needs some work. So I continued to be "graduated from therapy." If anyone inquired, I stated that I was a "previous client."

• 4 - [Practitioner] and I are "friends." [Practitioner] referred/refers(?) to the members of the support group, and at least some of his clients, as his "friends." This was/is normal practice for [practitioner], from my observation. [Practitioner] and I discussed, at various times, that [practitioner's] self-disclosure (and friendship) had its place, as long as that didn't put his clients in a position where they felt a duty to meet his emotional needs or that his needs were put above the clients. I agreed with him.

• 5 - [Practitioner] refers to me as a "colleague." This probably began sometime after September, ***9, but this may have happened before I "graduated" (which I don't think in hindsight was graduation, as stated above.) I had become active on the web with my personal blogs and speaking out regarding cults, abusive relationships, my own story, and [the cult I had been with]. [Practitioner] had told me that he "thinks of me more as a colleague than a client." [...] [Practitioner] referred to me as an "activist" regarding cults and toxic groups though I didn't feel I was really an activist. I did end up adopting the title calling myself a "lay activist." At some point in ***0, [practitioner] and I discussed me possibly becoming a type of facilitator for his Monday night phone-support group. After some thought, I declined and decided I wanted to remain simply a participant.

• 6 - I volunteer to be a Moderator on [practitioner's] online discussion board. In January, ***0, [practitioner] started a private (by invitation only) Activist Forum for people in cult education and recovery on his online discussion board. That online discussion board web address used to be [...] . [Practitioner] personally invited the first members. After some weeks, on March 1, I volunteered along with another member to act as a moderator on [practitioner's] board. (For my concern about my client-therapist-colleague relationship with [practitioner], please see the enclosed "Conflict of Interest concern with [practitioner] as lifecoach/therapist.")

• 7 - [Practitioner] approaches me regarding a non-profit project he is thinking about forming. I volunteer (which later would include low financial compensation) to help. [Practitioner] thought I would make a good editor-in-chief for a non-profit organization regarding cult-recovery that he was thinking of forming. This would be separate from his online discussion board, though the online discussion board would be a component of the non-profit. At least that was my understanding. I have no experience or credentials to act as an editor-in-chief, which I expressed to him. He thought I would be good at it and explained part of what my role would entail: soliciting articles, giving [practitioner] deadlines so he is accountable to someone, coming up with creative ideas for the project, doing my own writing, and I don't recall what else. I thought it over a few weeks, discussing it some with [practitioner], and decided that I would like to give it a try though the position did cause me some anxiety, which [practitioner] and I discussed throughout the summer. [Practitioner] approached me with the idea sometime in early May. I think I accepted sometime in late May, but it may have been some time in June. We continued to discuss the idea through June, including me sharing my personal self-doubt and lack of confidence in the position. The non-profit remained only in the formulating stages during my and [practitioner's] relationship.(See the enclosed "May, ***0: [Practitioner] shares idea about an organization..." to see when he first brought up the idea.)

• 8 - I support [practitioner] through one of his mental health episodes. I refer to this as a role reversal. [Practitioner] and my client-theapist-colleague friendship ended up in a role reversal in June, ***0, when [practitioner] put out a call for emotional help and support via an email to me and the other Co-Administrator of the discussion board (who was never a client). I responded to [practitioner's] call for help, offering [practitioner] my ear to listen and simply be with him, if he needed it, stating at that point, "In fact, for the moment, I am no longer your client...but rather a friend." He responded with an email in which he disclosed his deepest problems, including [certain diagnosis]. At that point I felt I had "lost my therapist" and I felt I needed to protect him and not reveal to anyone what he had shared with me. (He never stated to not reveal it. I had told him though that I would keep what he shared in confidence. I never told anyone about what [practitioner] shared until after [practitioner's] verbal and emotional abuse in August.) (Please see the enclosed overview, with attached emails, entitled "Role Reversal, June, ***0.")

• 9- I become a Co-Administrator and Creative Director of the online discussion board. This position (though at the time separate from the non-profit mentioned in #7) was like a springboard into the position for the non-profit organization that [practitioner] was still in the process of formulating. The Co-Admin and Creative Director positions held the same responsibilities included in #7 above. I also included promoting the Activist Forum. I was appointed and volunteered for this position in July, ***0 (though I was still uncomfortable, which I discussed with [practitioner], but determined that I wanted to continue so as to overcome some emotional issues and triggers I still dealt with). This position also included sending a weekly email to all members of the private Activist Forum to let them know what topics were being posted, and inviting input. I was also starting to write members to solicit articles. (I only got one of those solicitation emails sent.) Again I was nervous about this position and [practitioner] and I discussed my anxiety regarding it a few times, the last time being Tuesday, July 27, ***0, less than one week before [practitioner's] final emails to me (#II below). (Regarding my distress, please see the enclosed overview with attached emails entitled "Distress, July, ***0.")

II: Verbal Abuse of Client

Overview (I expound on this, and supply emails, in the corresponding papers enclosed with this complaint packet.): This happened via emails on Monday, August 2, ***0. It did not happen in a therapeutic session, but in my role as Creative Director and Co-Administrator of [practitioner's] online board.

[Practitioner] sent me two emails accusing me of not standing up for him in a **conflict he had with the other Co-Administrator; of name calling, of destroying my and [practitioner's] friendship, of me being non-compassionate regarding [practitioner's] distress, of me stating that [practitioner] is in it for the money, of not respecting [practitioner's] boundaries, of making everything some sort of perfectionistic test for [practitioner], of suggesting that [practitioner's] irritation/anger means something is wrong with that, of playing a charade, of reading into his words, of focusing on his challenges and faults, of having no concern for the effect the conflict was having on him, and of placating the Co-Admin with whom [practitioner] had the conflict. [Practitioner] stated he'd find it hard to trust me again on any level and he cut off communication with me which included blocking me from Skype, his email, and his 800 number. (For an overview of these exchanges with emails, see the enclosed overview "My Individual Email Exchanges with [practitioner] After the Ultimatum Email, August 2, ***0.")

As far as I know, the only accusation of which I am guilty is the one about me not standing up for [practitioner] during the conflict with the other Co-Admin. I chose to not get between the two of them in their personal conflict, though I would comment on emails addressed to me and gave my input and vote regarding the initial discussion about some wording on the forum. The one accusation about me not respecting boundaries may also apply, in that I sent [practitioner] a four-sentence email (due to previous email miscommuication between the three parties) after he stated he wanted no contact. (For further explanation regarding the boundaries accusation, please see second page of the enclosed "My Individual Email Exchanges with [practitioner] After the Ultimatum Email, August 2, ***0.")

[Practitioner] used four of my deepest vulnerabilities against me. Those are self-blame, self-distrust, fear of abandonment, and intimidation when relating with certain authority figures. Not to mention other issues I have worked to overcome, which include low self-worth, shame, and thinking I am unintelligent.

As far as my "client" status: My last paid personal session with [practitioner] was the end of June. That session was listed as a coaching session. I paid for the Monday night phone support group sessions through the end of June. Though I continued with the support group and had some times in July when I needed [practitioner's] counsel, I did not pay for any group sessions or one-on-one time with [practitioner] in July. We had at some point previously discussed bartering; ie: my volunteer time on the online board and non-profit project could be exchanged for therapy/life-coaching sessions and/or the support group. To my understanding, that was never officially implemented. Our personal meetings in July were considered as [practitioner] being my friend who happened to be a therapist. He also shared some of his needs (as friends do) with me.
So it may be that from July on, I was not technically an individual client. [And as stated above, after September, ***9, we (or at least I) most often referred to me as a "previous client."]

Through July, I still continued as a client in the support group, though I was non-pay in July.

(I can provide Paypal records if needed.)

** For an overview of the conflict, with emails, see the enclosed, "The Online Conflict Between [practitioner] & the Other Online Board Co-Administrator, July 27 - August 1, ***0.")


III: Negligence

I feel negligence happened when I endeavored to communicate with [practitioner] (in hopes our relationship hadn't been marred) regarding the misunderstanding/conflict that happened between he and the other Co-Adminstrator on the online discussion board. (For an overview of these exchanges with emails, see the enclosed "My Individual Email Exchanges with [practitioner] After the Ultimatum Email, August 2, ***0.")

[Practitioner's] response to my attempt was to blame and accuse me, intentionally or unintentionally using my deepest vulnerabilities against me (of which he was fully aware as my therapist), and to cut off communication with me. (Again see, "My Individual Email Exchanges with [practitioner] After the Ultimatum Email, August 2, ***0.")

On August 3, ***0, the day after he cut off communication with me, he called me and left a message on my home voice mail stating that his assistant told him that I had contacted her and wanted to talk to [practitioner]. [Practitioner] also stated that he felt he was emotionally able to talk at that point and that I could call him on his cell if I wanted to talk. (note: I never contacted his assistant.)

I was out of town that day (August 3) and got the message when I arrived home after 2:00 AM on August 4. 

On August 4, around 10:00 AM, I called [practitioner's] cell phone and got his voice mail. I left a message in which I told him that I never contacted his assitant. I stated that the only thing his assistant may have gotten from me was when I sent a payment of $70 on August 2 to [practitioner's] Paypal account in order to clear my balance due and that I had included a note, with my Paypal payment, that if it wasn't correct to let me know. At that point (in leaving my voice mail on [practitioner's] cell) I got a little choked up (with tears) and stated that if he wanted to talk, I was open to that and that it'd be nice to end on a more positive note.

I never heard back.

****

My Emotional Responses To and Since the Incidents

My initial response to [practitioner's] final emails were fright and then numbness; I simply went numb. It all felt like a bad dream. Within a few hours I was devasated; confused; doubting my reality, my integrity and my motives; and feeling I was totally at fault. I had to take the next day off work.

On August 4, when I heard [practitioner's] voice mail that he had left on August 3, I felt I would have to somehow prove to [practitioner] that I had never contacted his assistant, that he might think I was or accuse me of lying.

I had anxiety regarding calling [practitioner] back; I feared verbal attack or that information would be twisted or that I would simply agree with whatever [practitioner] stated that I had done wrong, though I still didn't really understand what I had done wrong. I also felt [practitioner] might expect me to apologize, and I still wasn't sure what I had done wrong so I wouldn't know what to apologize for. All that was mixed with a feeling that maybe we could have a better closure to our relationship, and perhaps even work things out.

In spite of my anxiety, I called [practitioner] back and got his voice mail. I left the message as stated above in #III. When [practitioner] never got back with me, I felt like a non-person, or like the calls never happened, or like I was making things up (which I wasn't).

I have experienced the following in varying degrees since the trauma. The following list is reprinted from How Therapists Abuse Their Clients.

• Complete devastation and despair (feeling like Munch's The Scream - see http://www.ivcc.edu/rambo/eng1001/munch.htm)
• Self blame and feelings of failure, guilt and confusion
• Loss of self-confidence and self-esteem [...]
• Withdrawal and inability to talk about the abuse; and feeling also that no one understands
• Doubting your own perceptions and reality
• Emotional detachment or "shutting down" (leading among other things to loss of empathy and lack of emotional response within oneself)
• Intrusive negative rumination/intrusive negative thoughts/flashbacks

In addition to the list above, I have experienced a sense of loss; wanting to forget and pretend my past never happened; grief; feeling I was crazy and making things up or had done things that I didn't do; feelings that I am unintelligent, childish, and stupid; wanting to disappear or become obscure; depression; anxiety; bad dreams; and some episodes of anger. I have also had to take more Xanax than I've needed all year previously and have had physical somaticizing symptoms which include lung and back pain. I started back on Paxil in September.

After [practitioner] cut off communication with me, I hired my local pyschologist to get his viewpoint of the situation and to help repair the harm wrought. He also has read emails, some of which I have not included with this complaint packet. You may contact him here: [psychologist name and phone number].

I have also seen my medical doctor, [MD's name and phone number].

I accept my responsibility in taking on the various relationships with [practitioner] and the positions for which I volunteered and for all my actions/inactions and mistakes related to those positions, relationships, and the fall out afterward. I never imagined the situation would end as it did, and I doubt [practitioner] did either.

Because of the manner in which [practitioner] cut off communication with me, I feel the only reasonable recourse I have is to file a complaint with the hopes that [practitioner] realizes the deep and agonizing emotional trauma and harm this entire situation has had on my life and that another client-turned-colleague/friend will never again endure such.

Thank you,

[client signature]

September, ***0

cc: [psychologist]

_______

Sacred routine

Hip pack.
Blue tooth.
Phone.
Charging cord.
Soft cooler with shoulder strap.
Water bottle.
Orange.
Almond coconut Cliff bar.
No need for oil, I've already had my afternoon dose.
Envelope with a payment for the eye doctor.

Wow. Maybe I will get back to "normal."

Pre-surgery, my regular routine was to take along my survival kit when I'd leave for the day. It always includes my hip pack and soft cooler, with their contents. Today, as I packed my survival kit, I felt a feeling of 'normalcy,' almost sacred. I hadn't realized the sacredness of this routine, until now.

Two days ago, I had driven for the first time since 8/29/16. And again yesterday. Hubby was with me on both those trips. Today is my first day out alone since six weeks ago. It feels like it's been months.

Cane, in hand.
Trekking poles, in the laundry room. I'll get them on the way out.
Walker, already loaded in the Explorer.

Where should I go? Somewhere outside, I think. I won't be able to hobble far. I need to go where there is a bench handy, so I can sit and rest.

Pilot Mountain? I don't feel like driving that far. And I'd hit Hwy. 52 traffic at rush hour.

Par Course? There's a bench right at the entrance. But it's rained a lot, and the path will probably be muddy. And I'd hit Silas Creek Parkway at rush-hour.

I slowly make my way down the stairs as I carefully place my right foot on a wooden step, and then follow with my left foot on the same step. I've been practicing stairs a lot.

Bad, down to hell. Good, up to heaven.

That's the formula to remind me which leg to lead off with. When going up the stairs, good leg first. When going down, bad leg first. I don't like calling my surgery leg my "bad" leg. But for doing the stairs, I make an exception.

I successfully reach the ceramic tile landing at the bottom of the stairs.

With cane in hand, but not using the cane, I make my way through the den as I practice walking. I concentrate endeavoring to not limp (which is impossible). But I keep proper form as best I can. I focus to keep my balance, to strategically place my footsteps. I feel the muscles working in my surgery leg reminding myself their memory is working and will come fully back.

I feel like I am learning how to walk again.

It's not just a feeling.

I wonder what it must feel like to a child walking for the very first time. I doubt they are so keenly conscious and aware of their muscles moving. But maybe they are. I wonder if they feel excitement? Or is it just something they do and wonder what it is they are doing? They like it, so they do it again? I'm sure they don't feel the pain of cut muscles reuniting.

I make my way through the den, then the office, then the laundry room where I pick up my trekking poles. I put my right hand though a trekking pole loop, and let it drape my wrist as I grasp the pole on its grip with my right hand. I do the same with my left hand, in which I also hold the handle of my cane. My cane is shorter than my trekking pole and doesn't touch the ground.

Using my trekking poles, which help me keep proper walking form, I slowly make my way through the garage and out to Edward the Explorer. I open the driver door, pull my hands out of the loops, and lean my trekking poles and my cane up against the door jam. With my right hand I unhook the bright green and silver carabiner that holds my keys and is latched onto my hip pack. I lean across the driver seat and place my keys in the console.

Holding my cane in my right hand, I extend my right arm across the driver seat and prop the cane on the passenger side. I unhook my hip pack and throw it across the driver seat; it lands in the passenger seat. I pull the strap of the soft cooler over my head. I again reach as best I can tossing it onto the passenger seat. It's a bit more awkward than my hip pack.

I grasp my trekking poles, step backwards, and make my way to the door behind the driver seat. I open it and place my trekking poles in the back alongside Wally, my walker. I close the door and hobble back to the open driver door.

With my left hand holding onto the door and my right hand holding the steering wheel, I slowly, deliberately, and carefully place my good foot, which is my right foot, onto the running board and step up. I make sure I'm stable and then carefully pick up my left foot and place it on the running board in front of my right foot. My left hand lets go of the door and takes hold of the door jam next to the windshield. I stand for a moment making sure I'm balanced before my next move. While still holding the steering wheel with my right hand, I carefully place my right foot into the vehicle and onto the floor board lowering myself into my seat as I pull in my surgery leg and place it on the floor board. I reach with my left arm and close the driver door. I take a deep breath in and slowly exhale.

Good job Carol.

I settle into the seat and put on my seat belt.

Well, I need to drop this payment in the mail box at the post office. I'll just head that direction and see where I end up afterwards.

Almost six weeks

This morning as I was continuing to ponder the idea of a grief vessel, I thought...

The grief vessel holds not just losses, but also love.

And then I read from Coryell's book, "Hidden in the shadow of loss is the power of love..."

What does that mean, "the power of love?"

For a moment, I felt elusive; the phrase held no substance. And in the next moment...

Sacrifice. Sacrifice is love. The "power" of it saves another.

My immediate thought was of Jesus Christ, the sacrificial lamb for all humanity...

*sigh* One of my sore spots with the scriptures and a question that was never answered to my satisfaction when I was a believer. Why is bloodshed required for redemption? 

But I'm not thinking of that kind of sacrifice, the kind where one entity demands sacrifice of another, like where God commands his son to sacrifice himself or humans to sacrifice animals. But rather self-sacrifice, total benevolence, an action taken out of totally giving of oneself to save another, which, according to the scriptures, Jesus also did in order to "save" mankind from separation from God now and later. Again, according to the scriptures.

Which brings to mind Jesus's sacrifice from a René Girardian-sort-of angle, as a revolutionary or activist whom the community murdered as a scapegoat for its ills, the sad outcome of extreme greed from those whose only concern is their own advancement or that of their own pure ideology. Who is saved in such a sacrifice?

My next thought was a mental image of a headline I'd read in the morning news. Something like "Mother pushes child out of car's way and dies; child lives"...

That's the kind of sacrifice I'm thinking about. Her sacrifice saved another life. Isn't that the "power" of love? 

*~*
Recovery from this revision hip surgery has been really rough.

As my hip continues to heal, the nerve damage continues its normal course of worsening as I get farther away from my last epidural.

I worked with my head on "this" before surgery, but I don't know how well I'm doing with "it." "This" and "it" refer to the fact that most often when a person goes through this type surgery, they will feel better as a result, as the recovery continues to progress.

That is not the case for me. I knew that going it. I know that now. It's a really, really hard reality, and depressing.

But, there is the hope that as months/years tick by, I might feel a difference. And, if not, we at least stopped the development of bone necrosis and the spread of metallosis.  I keep telling myself that.

The surgery has "set me back" in the immediate, as far as the nerve damage. One reason (and only one), is because other parts of my body have to compensate for the functions of my surgical leg as it recovers and regains function. That can be rough on any body, especially one with widespread nerve damage.

I've had to temporarily (which feels like forever) give up one of my top relief remedies -- riding my bike. It not only relieves the physical, but also the mental and emotional challenges that come with my body's dysfunction.  And I miss my pet sitting. Both riding my bike and pet sitting give me purpose and meaning, and they help my confidence.

Tomorrow will be six weeks from surgery. It feels like three months. I also knew that going in -- how time goes s-l-o-w-l-y in these blurry, isolated weeks.

On an up-note, I was able to drive for the first time this past Saturday. That means I can get out of the house independently.

My friend and temporary caregiver, Joy, left on Wednesday, 9/28. Hubby took off work and stayed home on 10/06 and 10/07. So this is my first full week home alone through the day hours. But not really alone because the physical therapist will come see me three days. Plus I can drive now, as my energy allows.

Grief Vessel

*~*
Intention. Observe. Breathe.
Three allies to help me stay present.
Which then helps me transform the pain of loss into something meaningful.

More morning embers while reading from Deborah Morris Coryell's book, Good Grief.
*~*

Three footsteps to staying open and present to the "challenge of loss" (and "the face of love, or the act of creation")

1) I need to have the desire, intention, commitment to keep my self present.
Can I find meaning in the losses? Grief is the vessel for loss(es).

This morning I got a mental image of losses as clay balls. Some are smaller than marbles; others are as large as ping pong balls. (The vessel is inside of me, in my torso area, so they can't be larger than ping pong balls. This morning, the vessel was in the shape of jug. Other times, I've seen it as a jar or vase. It's always cylindrical.)

At first a clay ball is soft. If too many fresh clay balls are added to the vessel at once and allowed to accumulate quickly without thought, the weight of the ones on top will compress and morph the ones beneath causing the beneath-ones to lose their spherical-shape or merge or become flat; their shapes change. If the clay balls collect more slowly over a span of time, they have time to harden and dry and keep their spherical shapes, until the weight of the top-ones cause beneath-ones to crack and fragment and become dust.

The temperature of the vessel is vital. If the vessel is kept at a too-cool temperature, the clay balls will be pliable for a longer period of time, but eventually they will dry and harden and crack and become fragments and dust. If the vessel is fiery hot, it will cure the clay too quickly and cause it to explode into tiny pieces and shards. Both the shards and dust collect in the bottom of the vessel.

But if the vessel's temperature is properly cared for, the clay balls come out as beautiful clay marbles or spheres, or other shapes if they've sat a while in the cool and morphed but not had time to turn to dust. The properly fired pieces may have bits of shard in them from previous clay balls when the vessel was too hot and caused some spheres to explode. Or they may have bits of dust from the clay that sat a long time and eventually fragmented. I can even use clear clay, since this is all imaginary, and the vessel produces crystal balls and shapes that make prisms.

It is my responsibility to tend to the vessel, to keep an eye on its temperature. If not, the vessel could get so full with misshapen hardened and brittle and exploded clay that it develops fissures and cracks.

The grief vessel isn't something to dwell on, but to be aware of and attend to, allowing it to do its job.


2) Objectively observe, be a witness, to the parade of thoughts in my head. Choose the thoughts that keep me present.
But don't suppress. Categorize. Maybe past, future, present?

If my thoughts are draining me instead of energizing me, ask, What will help me get my thoughts back on the path and out of the thicket? Do I need sleep? Do I need to move my body? Do I need a massage? Do I need connection with my energy-sources? 

3) Breathe.
One with the in-breath... One with the out-breath... Two with the in-breath... Two with the out-breath... 

For over 15 years, breathing was almost a daily struggle for me. That is no longer the case; remember.

*~*
Loss happens every day to every living creature.
It is as common as breathing.
Breath is vital for life.
What about "loss"?
*~*

clay spheres by richard weber

Morning embers: The Quest

*~*
This Quest is not a "conquest." It's not something to be overcome or conquered. I think of it more like "questions," and through those questions there is discovery. The Path is Openness.

Some morning thoughts sparked after reading from Deborah Morris Coryell's book, Good Grief, and Stephen King's book, On Writing.
*~*

The Quest:  to feel connected to the source of life
My immediate response to "feeling connected to the source of life" is a feeling in my gut, in my womb. It's not a bad feeling; it's not a good feeling. Or maybe it is a good feeling. I just know, in that area of my body, I feel a source of groundedness. Isn't that connection? (The womb is one source of life, or a part of the source. Men don't have wombs. Or maybe they do? At least in their cells. It seems there would be a type of womb in every cell alive - an incubator for the source of life for that cell.)

Regardless, I have oft experienced the feeling of being connected to some sort of presence of life. I think it is a common trait shared with every living creature, and perhaps even plants, if they can "feel." In this current season of my life, I feel that connection most when being with the woods, or when bringing those woods-fellowship moments to remembrance.

I want to remember. I long to remember events of my past where there are giant blanks of nothingness. Even if they were "bad" things.

One of my least favorite scriptures is.: "Declaring null and void those things which are behind, and reaching forth to that which is before..."  I don't like it at, all. To declare null and void those things which are behind? To void it out like it never happened? No, no. For me, that is no way to fully embrace life.

In order to "feel connected," I must show up. 
Once I show up, I need to be present -- aware of my self, my space, my environment. Simply "to be" in that particular moment. Easier said than done at times, especially if I'm tired or fatigued.

But with practice, especially in the past couple years, I've gotten better at being in-the-present. I've had to be able to describe my all-over and ever-morphing symptoms. Then I could address them. And in order to do that, I had to be present and aware.

That awareness and observation poured over as I began seeing and feeling improvement, as my thighs first got "juice" back into them, as I rode Olivia through the woods, so very keen of my body, and then the sounds around me, and the sights, and the smells, and the analogies, and the wildlife. Sometimes I've felt like Snow White as rabbits and birds and deer and groundhogs accompany me, even if only for a moment. Those moments are eternal. And in those moments, I was embraced by the presence of it all.

By being present, whatever moment I am in leaves a clearer picture, less fuzzy. I want to say leaves a more "powerful imprint" than if I'm not aware, not present. But I don't know if that's the case. Everything leaves some sort of imprint. Do I know for sure that some imprints have a greater impact? What about the imprints of which I can't recall the stamp? What about the imprints that I'm not even aware of? Does that make them "less powerful"? Do I recall better the imprints made when I was most present?

I doubt there are definitive answers to those questions. Regardless, it seems to me, that a clearer imprint and less fuzzy picture would produce a more-retrievable memory, and the feeling that goes with that memory. Then I can choose what to do with that memory and that feeling.

Being present, I am open. 
So the key, or at least a key to being present, is to be open. To be open is to be vulnerable. It's risky. So how do I balance the risk with the benefit? Perhaps think of it like medicine? But not just a medicine that masks or controls symptoms; rather, a medicine that brings healing. By "thinking of it like medicine," I mean, do the side effects of the remedy outweigh the risks? What are the risks to being open and thus vulnerable? What are the benefits?

*~*

Loss and lost...

I sit
Exhausted
Reality again staring me in the face
My body wracked and broken

Tears pour
And I wail
And wail some more
A chasm in my soul

A too-often recurring scenario
In the past five years

In the past thirty years, but for other reasons

I tell myself, I will heal from the recent surgery
Even though it feels like I'm stuck in this place
In this state of disrepair

I remind myself, I will heal from the surgery
But the nerve damage, the nerve damage
It may not go away

My heart beats faster
Fear, worry
Sometimes I feel I'm just waiting for the next bad thing to happen
For more bad news

It's terrifying as I recall just how bad it's been at its worst...

Body -- fatigued, heavy as if iron shards course through my every cell while Earth, like a giant magnet, tries to suck me into her very core
Limbs -- like concrete, struggle to propel
Arms -- strengthless, unable to rise past twenty
Biceps -- lightening bolts shoot through the muscle, deadening movement in its track
Forearms -- heavy, wet sand moves within like mercury, sinews pulled back and forth, side to side
Wrists -- weak, inflamed, moveable lumps
Fingers and hands -- swollen, unable to grip, numb, tingling
Palms of hands and soles of feet -- swollen, tender
Legs -- heavy, deadened, feeble
Knees -- inflamed, stiff
Ankles --  sporadic shooting pains
Bones -- ache, porous, about to buckle
Organs -- feel on the verge of failure
Brain -- tired, soupy, foggy, mud
Neck -- stiff, inflexible
Head -- weighted, a cumbersome ball
Jaws -- unable to fully open or clench and chew
Throat -- swallows slowly, deliberately
Mouth -- tiny pools of spit gather in the corners, but not enough to drool
Belly -- seethes, a cauldron filled with fiery juices, bloats like a pregnant guppy
Spine -- weak, collapsible
Dizziness --  as I rise or sit, the room jostles, but not enough to cause a fall
Dreams -- stolen, lost
Self -- dismembered

It's terrifying as I recall just how bad it was at its worst...
The key word -- was

I have felt improvement in the last year
This surgery is a bump in the road
More like a mountain
But I've climbed mountains before

*~*

I peruse the books I'd pulled out a few weeks ago
When I thought I might do some reading during recovery from surgery
When I thought I'd have time and energy and inclination to read an actual book
That hasn't happened
But maybe something will spark in me this morning as I read the titles

One book stands out -- Good Grief: Healing Through the Shadow of Loss by Deborah Morris Coryell
I bought the book years ago at Borders
As I searched for an understanding of the overwhelming losses I felt after leaving The Way
Some that had been suppressed for decades gurgled at first
And then spewed like a geyser
This book helped me then
Maybe it will help me now

I open and begin to read
As I read, I cry

Coryell puts into words what I've been feeling
Not just from the nerve damage
Not just from the surgery
But from the repeated pounding of one loss after another
Of losing my sense of identity and purpose
Of trying to rediscover those again
Only to have them bashed and pulverized
Then to arise again in a different space
And then that too gets robbed in part or whole, temporarily or permanently

*~*

Page 5
...Within the idea of "lost" is the feeling of being alone. Are we saying "I have lost" and really meaning "I am lost"? When we are attached to someone or something and we become unattached, we lose our sense of being connected: of knowing where our place is in the world. We've lost our place. Whether it is temporarily lost or permanently lost is up to us. Part of the task of grieving is finding our place in the world again. Who am I if not Jim's wife? Laura's mom? Bob's daughter? Suzanne's friend? Head of the maintenance department? Owner of the beautiful home?... 

 Page 8
...The capacity to nourish ourselves with our memories is vastly underrated... 
...When we want or need to be with someone or something from which we feel disconnected, we can call upon our stores of remembered experiences... 
...from a biochemical standpoint, the organism's experience of being hugged by the self is no different from being hugged by another. In hugging one's self the same rise in T cells, immune response, and endorphins are experienced...

*~*

Yes, yes...
I've done this before...
I can do it again...
I will rise again and be stronger for it...
I will find my path again...





*~*

A New Page

For months or more, when I'd open my blog and see the side bar with the three "pages" listed in regard to information on one of my former mental health therapist who lost his license in 2014, I'd think, I really want those off my side bar. And Knapp's name; I don't like seeing it on my side bar.  But I want to keep the information up here; Knapp may still be preying just in a different mask. The information may help a next Knapp target.  I could change the titles of the pages, but I don't want to do that either. And I want to keep the links in tact because they are posted elsewhere online by myself and others.

"Pages" and "posts" are published differently on Blogger. If I could change the "pages" to "posts" and redirect to the new links, I could display them differently. But I couldn't find a way to do that.

Then last night finally a solution came to me. However, I still lose two of the links. But one link would still be in tact. I decided I can live with that arrangement.

The link that has gotten the most hits is the "Complaint Overview." Even while my blog was not listed on search engines the last couple years, that link still got hits. So, I kept that page link in tact but changed the content of the page. The new content includes new links to the three previous "pages," which are now "posts." (I realize folks who don't blog, and maybe those who do, may not follow what I just typed, but that's the best I can do for now even though it's as clear as mud.)

Here's the link to the page with the new content: Therapist Abuse

I continue to work through the after-effects of the trauma endured from my relationship with John Knapp, I'm not the only client whom he preyed upon. At least now, he can no longer prey as a licensed mental health therapist.

I have again listed my blog on public search engines, at least for now.

*~*
On the surgery front:

At my September 28 post-op appointment, I got permission to start putting weight on my surgery leg. I'm now alternating between cane and walker. Other restrictions were lifted as well. No more wedge between my legs; I can change positions in my sleep. No more blood-clot-prevention belly injections. No more compression sock. I can begin using my leg as it gains strength and ability. The physical therapist will continue home visits through October 14. I then have an order for out-patient physical therapy at a clinic.

I received my cervical neck shots on Monday, 10/03. They should help some. My arms were getting bad and I couldn't lift them well at all. I receive my next epidural and more neck injections on 10/31. I'm eager to get back on track with addressing the (hopefully) continued improvement of the nerve damage. I am having dizziness again and I hope that clears soon. Thankfully, it only lasts a moment at a time upon rising and sitting/laying.

I'm pining to get back on my bike and ride the Greenways, but I have to wait until my walking is stable. That might take 'til sometime in December. I got some pedals to keep my feet a twirling. Maybe I'll name my pedaler Shirley...or Surely. lol




*~*