Location: i believe, i believe, it's silly, but I believe Gender:
Posted:
Nov 13, 2017 - 5:49am
Antigone wrote:
I'll read that article later when I have more time.
But, one thing I learned about anger and our culture ... we are not allowed to be angry at people who have died. For example, for many years I hid my anger at my brother, whose car accident was his fault. It would have been so much more healthy if I'd been allowed to acknowledge it and deal with it.
we're only allowed to express anger through violence.
I didn't get to post about mental health and violence and my sense of it all. Just too busy with work and life. But, I think that this article is a good way to start the conversation.
Much of treatment for mental health disorders is not curative. It's typically about learning coping skills. Coping with depression, coping with anxiety. Medications can help a bit, but the person ultimately needs to (when possible,) learn how to cope with their symptoms. As it pertains to major mental health disorders, Bipolar D/O and Schizophrenia, again, it is about coping, and the best outcomes are when people with mental illness are surrounded by a community, whether that is family, or group home care (there is such a thing as very very good group home care,) that can help to recognize when hospitalization is needed.
I would say in general, a major issue is that we, all of us, are not taught now to cope with the feeling of anger. Mentally ill or not, much of the violence that we see occurring has to do with either a build up or an impulsive spewing of anger.
Mentally ill people aren’t killers. Angry people are.
I'll read that article later when I have more time.
But, one thing I learned about anger and our culture ... we are not allowed to be angry at people who have died. For example, for many years I hid my anger at my brother, whose car accident was his fault. It would have been so much more healthy if I'd been allowed to acknowledge it and deal with it.
Location: i believe, i believe, it's silly, but I believe Gender:
Posted:
Nov 13, 2017 - 5:04am
I didn't get to post about mental health and violence and my sense of it all. Just too busy with work and life. But, I think that this article is a good way to start the conversation.
Much of treatment for mental health disorders is not curative. It's typically about learning coping skills. Coping with depression, coping with anxiety. Medications can help a bit, but the person ultimately needs to (when possible,) learn how to cope with their symptoms. As it pertains to major mental health disorders, Bipolar D/O and Schizophrenia, again, it is about coping, and the best outcomes are when people with mental illness are surrounded by a community, whether that is family, or group home care (there is such a thing as very very good group home care,) that can help to recognize when hospitalization is needed.
I would say in general, a major issue is that we, all of us, are not taught now to cope with the feeling of anger. Mentally ill or not, much of the violence that we see occurring has to do with either a build up or an impulsive spewing of anger.
Having done it many times before, it was always painful but I felt right doing it. With Shiloh I struggled and cancelled and switched rationale around until I couldn't breathe when I thought about it. He was suffering just because he loved me and didn't know anything any different. The part I truly feel PTSD about is the gnawing feeling that I missed something by not trying harder to make him more comfortable somehow and taking a shortcut. It's ridiculous, I know, but I have to torture myself sometimes. I must be addicted to anguish or something. I can't block that moment he fell lifeless in my arms and a really odd thing; his tongue stuck out a little and vibrated for what seemed like an eternity. They left me alone in the room with him for probably 30 minutes and I cried myself a banging headache. I'll never get over it and I'm not sure I want to. I had dogs literally all my life, sometimes multiples. I just can't feel getting another one now. I can't go through that ever again. He and I shared perfect devotion. Losing him at my discretion really hurt my spirit and projected me toward something I'm not sure about yet. He wasn't just a dog, or an animal. I'm sure of it. Sounds crazy, I know...Something about when a person really loves children but doesn't have any. You pour those same emotions into the blessings accorded in substitution. He was God's own blessing to me. I tried to do the best I could. It was July 7th. Not one day has gone by without me thinking about him or hearing his needy little yip. I miss him so much. I understand how you feel. My Father loved him too, and now he's dying. We have to face the brevity of life with all the courage we can muster. Cry when you feel it sweetheart. It's no sin...
Thank you for sharing. I can relate so much - I often felt Ceili was a guardian angel of sorts and more than a cat to me. I can also relate to pouring the same love into animals that I would've, had I had children. Almost everyone in the Dove Lewis support group I went to (for pet loss) was childless. I am continually facing impermanence and the brevity of life these days (as are many of us who are getting older). Sending you and your dad lots of supportive energy.
And thank you SFW.
i feel like the both of you, too. about the murray the k. he was a special soul.
Having done it many times before, it was always painful but I felt right doing it. With Shiloh I struggled and cancelled and switched rationale around until I couldn't breathe when I thought about it. He was suffering just because he loved me and didn't know anything any different. The part I truly feel PTSD about is the gnawing feeling that I missed something by not trying harder to make him more comfortable somehow and taking a shortcut. It's ridiculous, I know, but I have to torture myself sometimes. I must be addicted to anguish or something. I can't block that moment he fell lifeless in my arms and a really odd thing; his tongue stuck out a little and vibrated for what seemed like an eternity. They left me alone in the room with him for probably 30 minutes and I cried myself a banging headache. I'll never get over it and I'm not sure I want to. I had dogs literally all my life, sometimes multiples. I just can't feel getting another one now. I can't go through that ever again. He and I shared perfect devotion. Losing him at my discretion really hurt my spirit and projected me toward something I'm not sure about yet. He wasn't just a dog, or an animal. I'm sure of it. Sounds crazy, I know...Something about when a person really loves children but doesn't have any. You pour those same emotions into the blessings accorded in substitution. He was God's own blessing to me. I tried to do the best I could. It was July 7th. Not one day has gone by without me thinking about him or hearing his needy little yip. I miss him so much. I understand how you feel. My Father loved him too, and now he's dying. We have to face the brevity of life with all the courage we can muster. Cry when you feel it sweetheart. It's no sin...
Thank you for sharing. I can relate so much - I often felt Ceili was a guardian angel of sorts and more than a cat to me. I can also relate to pouring the same love into animals that I would've, had I had children. Almost everyone in the Dove Lewis support group I went to (for pet loss) was childless. I am continually facing impermanence and the brevity of life these days (as are many of us who are getting older). Sending you and your dad lots of supportive energy.
Having done it many times before, it was always painful but I felt right doing it. With Shiloh I struggled and cancelled and switched rationale around until I couldn't breathe when I thought about it. He was suffering just because he loved me and didn't know anything any different. The part I truly feel PTSD about is the gnawing feeling that I missed something by not trying harder to make him more comfortable somehow and taking a shortcut. It's ridiculous, I know, but I have to torture myself sometimes. I must be addicted to anguish or something. I can't block that moment he fell lifeless in my arms and a really odd thing; his tongue stuck out a little and vibrated for what seemed like an eternity. They left me alone in the room with him for probably 30 minutes and I cried myself a banging headache. I'll never get over it and I'm not sure I want to. I had dogs literally all my life, sometimes multiples. I just can't feel getting another one now. I can't go through that ever again. He and I shared perfect devotion. Losing him at my discretion really hurt my spirit and projected me toward something I'm not sure about yet. He wasn't just a dog, or an animal. I'm sure of it. Sounds crazy, I know...Something about when a person really loves children but doesn't have any. You pour those same emotions into the blessings accorded in substitution. He was God's own blessing to me. I tried to do the best I could. It was July 7th. Not one day has gone by without me thinking about him or hearing his needy little yip. I miss him so much. I understand how you feel. My Father loved him too, and now he's dying. We have to face the brevity of life with all the courage we can muster. Cry when you feel it sweetheart. It's no sin...
Is it not unusual for people who've had to euthanize their pets to experience PTSD on occasion? The first time I noticed it was when I had to drive down the road that the animal emergency hospital is on where it happened....I was going to get my license renewed at an e-check there and almost started to hyperventilate from panic.
Most recently is when I saw the trailer to "A Dog's Purpose" in the theater, and there was a brief scene where a dog is lying on the exam table dying, and once again I felt the panic and said "No!" so audibly that my friend looked over at me in alarm. It felt like I was right there at the vet's again, holding my cat and not wanting to let her go.
I suppose time will lessen this?
Having done it many times before, it was always painful but I felt right doing it. With Shiloh I struggled and cancelled and switched rationale around until I couldn't breathe when I thought about it. He was suffering just because he loved me and didn't know anything any different. The part I truly feel PTSD about is the gnawing feeling that I missed something by not trying harder to make him more comfortable somehow and taking a shortcut. It's ridiculous, I know, but I have to torture myself sometimes. I must be addicted to anguish or something. I can't block that moment he fell lifeless in my arms and a really odd thing; his tongue stuck out a little and vibrated for what seemed like an eternity. They left me alone in the room with him for probably 30 minutes and I cried myself a banging headache. I'll never get over it and I'm not sure I want to. I had dogs literally all my life, sometimes multiples. I just can't feel getting another one now. I can't go through that ever again. He and I shared perfect devotion. Losing him at my discretion really hurt my spirit and projected me toward something I'm not sure about yet. He wasn't just a dog, or an animal. I'm sure of it. Sounds crazy, I know...Something about when a person really loves children but doesn't have any. You pour those same emotions into the blessings accorded in substitution. He was God's own blessing to me. I tried to do the best I could. It was July 7th. Not one day has gone by without me thinking about him or hearing his needy little yip. I miss him so much. I understand how you feel. My Father loved him too, and now he's dying. We have to face the brevity of life with all the courage we can muster. Cry when you feel it sweetheart. It's no sin...
Is it not unusual for people who've had to euthanize their pets to experience PTSD on occasion? The first time I noticed it was when I had to drive down the road that the animal emergency hospital is on where it happened....I was going to get my license renewed at an e-check there and almost started to hyperventilate from panic.
Most recently is when I saw the trailer to "A Dog's Purpose" in the theater, and there was a brief scene where a dog is lying on the exam table dying, and once again I felt the panic and said "No!" so audibly that my friend looked over at me in alarm. It felt like I was right there at the vet's again, holding my cat and not wanting to let her go.
A hallucinogenic drug derived from magic mushrooms could be useful in treating depression, the first safety study of this approach has concluded.
Researchers from Imperial College London gave 12 people psilocybin, the active component in magic mushrooms. All had been clinically depressed for a significant amount of time — on average 17.8 years. None of the patients had responded to standard medications, such as selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors (SSRIs), or had electroconvulsive therapy.
One week after receiving an oral dose of psilocybin, all patients experienced a marked improvement in their symptoms. Three months on, five patients were in complete remission. (...)
Location: i believe, i believe, it's silly, but I believe Gender:
Posted:
Apr 14, 2016 - 4:46am
This week, a student at the University of Pennsylvania committed suicide, the 10th (or 11th depending on who you speak to) suicide of a student at Penn in the last three years. It's a horrible state of affairs. Here's a post from a Penn Student from this morning:
*I apologize in advance for the uncharacteristic length of this post, but I feel that it is important for me to speak up.*
24 hours have passed, and the only emotion that has ebbed even slightly is my profound, cold shock. I am just as hurt, angry, and confused as when I first read the email sent out by President Gutmann at 2:22pm yesterday. My heart breaks for Olivia’s family, friends and classmates. Yet another life taken far too soon. I cannot fathom your pain. I am so sorry.
I have never met Olivia, but I feel compelled to speak out about an issue that is so obviously prevalent at Penn (as well as other universities and institutions across the nation). I feel as though remaining silent makes me culpable, as passivity does not lead to change but rather perpetuates the problem. 11 suicides in 3 years. Heartbreaking. A pattern that sheds light on a deadly phenomenon occurring on our very own campus.
In my almost 2 years at Penn, I have become quite aware of “Penn-Face”—a term that now labels the deceptive façade that students put on daily to conceal all perceived imperfections. “Everything is fine!” “I’m doing great, how about you?” “Yeah I go out and still do well in my classes. Doesn’t everyone?” We as a community are, to an extent, responsible for perpetuating this culture of apparent perfection. Showing weakness or inadequacy is shunned, even if only internally. Talking about this—acknowledging it for the problem that it is—is a step in the right direction.
But we are not entirely to blame for this culture. I am profoundly disappointed in the actions of the administration here at Penn. Why, when I read the announcement of her passing, did I immediately panic and have to search the internet to see if I personally knew this nameless junior? Why, when I read the 6abc article that identified her as Olivia Kong, did I feel immense relief followed by intense guilt and self-hatred for being happy that she wasn’t someone I knew personally? Why, in a separate email sent to Wharton, was this tragic suicide described as an “accident?” Why have 24 hours passed without any amendment to this statement? Why did my professor ask us how we were doing this morning and then, in response to the class’s stony silence, make a joke about the stormy weather affecting our moods (yet make no mention of Olivia)? Why are school activities continuing normally as though no tragedy has occurred? As though another suicide is just part of the norm here?
Why, more generally, are professors banned from teaching classes if they give out too many A’s? Why are students expected to sacrifice sleep and health for grades? Why is it no longer shocking to hear that someone hasn’t slept for more than 3 hours in a night for 2 weeks or more? Why must the waiting room in CAPS be a completely open space where eye-contact between friends and peers must actively be avoided? Why to even get an appointment do you need to empty your heart and soul to a nameless voice on the other end of a phone-call? Why do we not have access to long-term counseling on campus? Why, at CAPS, are the only psychologists available on short-term rotation so that once you’ve established a relationship with them, they leave? Why are the only long-term therapy options available located in Center City for a weekly $30 copay (assuming your health insurance even covers it)?
I have so many questions and have no idea where to go to have them answered. But I am tired. I am tired of remaining silent while I watch my friends and classmates continue to suffer. I am tired of hearing of new programs and surveys that do nothing to actually initiate positive change. I am tired of internalizing my anger and sadness and pretending that everything is fine. Everything is NOT fine and it is time that both the students and administration of Penn DO something about it. We CANNOT afford to wait until another student takes his or her life. We cannot passively wait for change to occur. We must take it into our own hands to address a systemic issue that we face every day, and the first step is speaking up and reaching out. Hug your friends. Tell them how much you care about them, how much you love them, how invaluable they are. Let this newest death be a wakeup call that will prevent another student from taking his or her own life.
To Amy Gutmann and the rest of our administration here at Penn: stop ignoring the problem. Nobody is saying that the culture we have here is the sole cause of depression and suicide, but it is certainly a contributing factor that can lead to an irrevocable tipping point. Stop glossing over it in emails, statements, and programs that are meant to placate and not to fix. The cost is too great.
it came into my mind this morning "it's just that mean old life that's got you in it's sway" when I heard about it. I'd honestly never realized the song was about depression.
Having done it many times before, it was always painful but I felt right doing it. With Shiloh I struggled and cancelled and switched rationale around until I couldn't breathe when I thought about it. He was suffering just because he loved me and didn't know anything any different. The part I truly feel PTSD about is the gnawing feeling that I missed something by not trying harder to make him more comfortable somehow and taking a shortcut. It's ridiculous, I know, but I have to torture myself sometimes. I must be addicted to anguish or something. I can't block that moment he fell lifeless in my arms and a really odd thing; his tongue stuck out a little and vibrated for what seemed like an eternity. They left me alone in the room with him for probably 30 minutes and I cried myself a banging headache. I'll never get over it and I'm not sure I want to. I had dogs literally all my life, sometimes multiples. I just can't feel getting another one now. I can't go through that ever again. He and I shared perfect devotion. Losing him at my discretion really hurt my spirit and projected me toward something I'm not sure about yet. He wasn't just a dog, or an animal. I'm sure of it. Sounds crazy, I know...Something about when a person really loves children but doesn't have any. You pour those same emotions into the blessings accorded in substitution. He was God's own blessing to me. I tried to do the best I could. It was July 7th. Not one day has gone by without me thinking about him or hearing his needy little yip. I miss him so much. I understand how you feel. My Father loved him too, and now he's dying. We have to face the brevity of life with all the courage we can muster. Cry when you feel it sweetheart. It's no sin...
Sending you and your dad lots of supportive energy.
