Diamond formation

A large lump of coal, under great pressure, over the course of years, forms a diamond. Such constant trial transforms a common stone into a treasure cherished by many. 

There are some people I've met who are diamonds, so formed by such intense suffering that it is hard to describe it. 

One such person cannot remember back past the time when her life was untouched by pain. 

When she was very young, she took a tumble and fell on her head. Unknown to her, it misaligned a vertebra in her neck. All of her childhood she suffered from rare migraines caused by a lack of blood flow to the brain; these were marked by nausea, extreme vertigo, and other unpleasant symptoms including temporary blindness on one side of her vision, but rarely any headache. 

She endured doctors not understanding her symptoms and then misdiagosing, several times. Not until she was 14 did she get a diagnosis (and only after extensive research by her parents who presented their research to the doctor): basilar artery migraines (BAM) also known as vertebrobasilar insufficiency. She was unable to take any medication for these attacks; if she did, she could have a stroke because the migraine medications constricted blood vessels. Since the migraines were caused by a lack of blood flow to the brain, further constriction (from medication) could shut off blood flow to the brain. It took only one such scare in an emergency room to drive that message home. The pediatrician had left standing orders to use a medication called DHE or dihydroxyergotamine, administered through an I.V. This medicine would constrict her vessels. The parents disagreed and objected; the attending physician (wanting to appease them) only gave her a half-dose. She had a mild heart attack and her migraine spiked off the charts. If she'd had a full dose she might have had a stroke.

She had to drop out of high school in grade ten due to missing so much time from the migraines, which came in clusters of up to three weeks at a time. This led her to believe that she was not intelligent, when in fact, she was extremely smart. Otherwise she couldn't have made it through elementary and junior high school with the high marks she did while still missing as much time as she did.

When she was 19 years old, pain in her neck led her to seek chiropractic help, where the slippage in her vertebrae was discovered on X-ray. The chiropractor gave her neck exercises to do with weights attached to her head, and within two months she regained some curvature to her neck and the slippage was reversed slightly. Over the next six months her migraines slowly tapered off. 

During that time, her dentist had to do a root canal in one tooth, and told her that she had to get her wisdom teeth out. She underwent both procedures about a year apart, and was left with TMJD - temporomandibular joint dysfunction. She still suffers from pain in her jaw (which extends into her neck and shoulder) and an inability to open her mouth wide, or chew tough meats.

However, the migraines were far less frequent - she occasionally had a regular one in her head but the debilitating vertigo was very rare. One day she just up and decided to go back to school and get her GED. She had it within 2 months. About six months later, she decided to go to college and become an executive assistant. She did, graduating at the top of her program. 

Photo "Single Blue Diamond" by
MR LIGHTMAN at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

She'd been at her job, living a relatively normal life for the first time in her life, when she stepped out of her work place after work one evening in late November 2012, crossed the sidewalk to get into her parents' vehicle, and slipped on a patch of black ice. She fell. Hard. 

She noticed a numbness in her left foot, and looked down. To her surprise, her kneecap was not in the correct place, but on the side of her leg. She reached down and wrenched it back into place. She doesn't remember feeling pain at this.

Her father helped her get into the vehicle. The pain hit on the ride home. It took her parents two days to convince her that she should get it seen to - she was that wary of doctors!

Thus began another pain journey. Over a year and a half and two surgeries later, she still walks with a crutch (or a cane on her good days) due to the surgeon making an error in the first surgery which was not detected during the second surgery. She has been on disability insurance since April 2013. Her surgeon has declared her unable to work indefinitely. She struggles with depression, loneliness and anxiety on a daily basis. Several months ago, her life was touched deeply by grief. She has symptoms of PTSD and battles panic attacks, multiple chemical sensitivities, and asthma.

I've told you all that to tell you this. This young lady is an absolute joy to know. She is deep, sensitive, thoughtful and loyal. She accepts people the way they are. ALL people. She's passionate about what she believes in. 

She is honest about how she feels if you ask her, even if she feels horrible. Yet she is not bitter and she doesn't use her disability as a tool to get a person to do what she wants. In fact, she has even used her crutch or her scar to start conversations and put people at ease; she understands people in pain and is one of the most empathetic people I know. Yet she won't snow you. If she thinks your behavior is hurting someone she loves, she will find a way to tell you in a way you'll be able to accept.

She has grown so much because of her pain, because of the things she has experienced. She's learning to look after herself, to believe that she is well worth the space she takes up in the world and in our lives. Pain - in her case - has become that constant pressure that has transformed her into someone absolutely priceless. She is indeed a diamond ... a precious gem in our lives. She always was.

I'm proud to know her. My life is richer because she is in it. 

And that's no lump of coal.

Worth it

“If you had asked me, before this happened, what the worst thing in my life would be, it would be to lose a child. To lose Sarah. I now know that there is one thing worse and that would be never to have had her at all. Right. So what that tells me is to look at all these wonderful things she did accomplish and to enjoy them, let them bring you happiness.”
- Jan Phelan, Sarah Burke's mom.
Quote retrieved from the video at:  http://olympics.cbc.ca/blogs/author/nick-purdon/article/sarah-burke-legacy-lives-sochi-olympics.html

I forgot an appointment today. I missed my reminder on my email because I was away from my desk when it popped up on my computer. So fifteen minutes later I got a call from the person with whom I was to have met. "You coming?" Apologies and ten minutes later I was meeting with her. The meeting took less than the hour we had budgeted, but it did go over the time we were supposed to be finished (she had to see another person right after me). 

So I was late leaving her office. What that meant was that I took short-cuts through stores and a coffee shop on the way back to work. And in the coffee shop ... I saw her. It was someone I used to work with a couple of years previous and who hadn't seen me since my daughter passed away last October. 

She'd heard. It seems most everyone has. And she conveyed her condolences. We chatted for a bit as her to-go order came up and that's when she told me about the interview with Jan Phelan and the quote (above) that struck her and was so powerful that it made her cry. 

It was so powerful that it made me cry too. Which is as it should be. 

It was moving - the tremendous attitude of this mother whose daughter's life was cut short on a snowboarding slope as she trained for a lead-up to the first-ever half-pipe competition in a winter Olympics. It was inspiring. 

It was just what I needed to hear. 

There were times in my youngest daughter's life that I wasn't so sure if it had been a good idea to have another child. Times when I was fighting with schoolteachers and the mental health care system and even wondering why she would deliberately pick friends that made me uncomfortable... It wasn't easy parenting this kid who was so unbelievably the opposite from me. Sometimes I messed up royally! Most times I wondered if she was stringing me a line. 

And ... were it not for the last 35 days of her life, I would have said that it wasn't worth the trouble. All the nights I cried myself to sleep wondering if she was alive and safe. All the times I checked the weather forecast in Edmonton, Alberta to see if she might have frozen to death in her car the night before. All the money I poured into her bank account hoping that she'd find a place to live, thinking that all she needed was a chance to prove herself. There were people who told me that I was letting her take advantage of me.  I had given until there was nothing left to give and still I gave some more, going into debt to do it. And by rights, I should have given up and let her fend for herself. It wasn't worth the anguish and the sleepless nights. By rights.

But then ... there were those last 35 days. Those last, priceless, 35 days.

Summer 2012 at Victoria Park

Don't misunderstand me. She wasn't a saint and (we are learning now) she still pulled the wool over my eyes again and again about where and how she was spending the money I sent to her.  However, something fundamental ... something wonderful ... happened inside of her on September 17, 2013 that turned her life around ... and made the bad times seem more worth it. We connected on a deep, spiritual level. I remember her saying to me, nearly awestruck, in early October or thereabouts, "I just can't believe that you and I are talking about God. Of all things." It's all I ever wanted for her. It was my finest prayer, my finest hope for her to be able to experience Him in a real way like she did that night in September.

And no, I'm not some sort of masochist (someone who enjoys pain) when I say that it was worth it. And I'm not about to say that I'd do it all over again. Once was quite enough ... thank you. I'd rather crawl on my hands and knees over broken glass than go through that again. But ... I can see that there was a purpose in it all being allowed.  

Family relationships have been mended. New friendships have been forged. Existing friendships have been deepened. Some people have had their lives transformed by her legacy. Many other people all over North America, and even as far away as Australia, have been deeply touched by her story (link to that story here) and I believe firmly that it needs to be told, again and again. 

I also believe that it was no accident that I was running late today, that it was so cold that I was cutting through buildings to get where I was going. It was no coincidence that my old acquaintance was there or that she had watched the highlights reel of the Olympic coverage and caught that snippet of an interview with the mom of one of our would-be athletes. No, I don't believe in coincidences. As Albert Einstein said, coincidences are just God's way of remaining anonymous. 

Let her story touch you. That's what it is for. That's what makes the tragedy of her death worth it.

The Bubble

Personal Space in a Crowded World

One of the first things that freshman Psychology students learn about is personal space. At the core, everyone has an invisible bubble around him or her. Depending on how close a relationship there is, a person can allow someone to the outer limit of his or her personal space, or allow entry. 

The average North American's personal space bubble is three feet in every direction. This is generally "arm's length." Strangers are not allowed to touch the edge of that space. Acquaintances may touch it, but not enter in very far. Close friends are allowed inside, but may not be allowed to touch. Intimate friends (such as a spouse or a best friend) have permission to make physical contact. The rules vary depending on the personality. Extroverts allow more touching; introverts don't.

Personal space bubble drawing - here's the blog article

Different cultures also have different definitions of that space and the rules surrounding them. In the European culture, for example, the sense of personal space is a lot smaller. People allow other people within two feet with no problem, and the rules surrounding touch are far more lax. This is why, when you're traveling to (let's say) Italy, you might feel uncomfortable when your host gets up in your face and waves his arms around, nearly touching you. (shudder) 

Differences in culture can occur not just in the personal physical space, but also in the attitudes that people have. In the culture of which I am a part, the average person doesn't get excited or vocal about much. Nobody raises his or her voice much; nobody jumps up and down (unless it's at a sporting event); nobody likes to get involved in a hot debate or enter any kind of confrontation. It just isn't done. 

If someone from another culture comes into that mix, someone to whom these behaviors (shouting, jumping up and down, debating) are not only acceptable, but desirable, there is a conflict. People get uncomfortable. Some people - like me - just shut down and clam up in situations where that individual is saying, "What's wrong with you people? don't you get excited about anything?" (Inner voice: "Umm, yes, I do, and no, I don't see the need to shout about it. Step back another foot or two and lower your volume; you're in my face. And that is NOT a good thing.") 

It's so important to define boundaries in situations like this. I need to keep reminding myself that not everyone picks up on non-verbal communication and I just might have to (horrors!) SAY how I feel rather than stew and fret about it. If someone is infringing on my personal space, and I dread being around that person, it's my responsibility to make the boundaries clear - if I want to remain in relationship with that person. This is something I've had to learn over the last couple of years. It's slow going.

When personal space is injured

Sometimes a person's sense of safety is wounded. Someone, or a whole lot of someones, strikes an axe to the foundation of the rules that govern the person's definition of right and wrong, just and unjust. A person exposed to this kind of event can become suspicious, afraid, even angry and belligerent. The underlying reason is the belief that the world isn't safe. This can happen at any time of life, and in any number of ways, including:

• child abuse: physical, emotional, sexual, abandonment, etc., especially if this took place over several years
• witnessing man's inhumanity to man (or animal) and being prevented from stopping it
• dangerous / life-threatening situations including being the victim of any kind of violent crime
• death threats or threats of physical or sexual violence, whether experienced directly or indirectly (e.g., when someone you love has had this happen)
• bullying: at school, at home, at work, or at church
• motor vehicle accidents - either being the victim, related to the victim, or a witness
• personal loss / grief (social, financial, family, church-related, work-related)
• constant, chronic, untreatable pain
• having a life-threatening illness or watching a loved one struggle with a life-threatening illness

Such experiences sometimes lead to a certain set of behaviors and symptoms that have become known as "Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome," or PTSD. Granted, it appears in varying degrees depending on the severity of the stressful experience and how long it lasted. But one of the symptoms of PTSD is an expanded personal space. In fact, the shape of the personal bubble changes. It's not only bigger (say, 4 feet instead of 3), but it's also bigger in the back than in the front or the side. I know because I have that symptom, and have for many years. My personal bubble is 4 feet in diameter, but it's over 5 feet behind me. If I enter a room, I have to either be close to the door for a quick getaway, or in a corner with my back to the wall so nobody sneaks up behind me.  I'm not saying that I HAVE this disorder, just that I have that symptom.

Here are some of the other, more common symptoms of PTSD (the first four must be present, along with an identifiable traumatic experience, in order to make a clinical diagnosis) - just for interest's sake, I've "starred" the symptoms I have had in the past:

• re-experiencing the stressful event: "flashbacks" *
• avoiding situations that remind the person of the traumatic event(s) *
• emotional numbing: being unable to feel love, tenderness, or compassion
• hyper-vigilance: an obsession with order, safety, or control of the environment *
• severe anxiety in new situations, combined with an overwhelming desire to escape from them *
• nightmares, waking in cold sweats *
• insomnia *
• suspicion of everyone and everything *
• increased personal space *
• episodes of depression; occasional to frequent thoughts of suicide *
• occasionally, the person may experience panic attacks, and in very severe cases, psychotic behaviors -  hallucinations, "zoning out", paranoid delusions, etc., usually in very stressful situations

There are more, but these will give an idea of the kinds of ways that the mind can find to cope (or not to cope) with trauma. PTSD is a horrible disorder that affects a lot of people, and it isn't just a "soldier's illness." Anyone can suffer from it. 

Many sufferers talk about "retreating into their bubble" - isolating themselves because it's the only way they can feel safe - and it takes a lot of effort to venture outside that comfort zone.

Treatment usually involves a combination of medication and therapy. Milder cases can be managed with therapy alone. And once a person has PTSD, it doesn't mean that he or she will always have it. Some have suffered acute symptoms for several months or a couple of years, and they have resolved themselves with therapy and/or with anti-psychotics, antidepressants or anti-anxiety medications. It depends on what the initial trauma was, how long it lasted, whether anything else compounded or added to it over the years, and quite a number of other factors. Those that do have chronic PTSD can learn to manage the symptoms and live normal lives. It is not anything to be ashamed about, and talking about it does help, especially if it's with people who understand what it's like.

The lifestyle I live now goes a long way toward easing my symptoms; they are much less intense than they once were. I remember when nearly every night was filled with nightmares where I re-experienced the violence that was so much a part of my growing up, or where my deepest fears came to life and I would wake in a cold sweat. The "One Day At A Time" and "Let Go and Let God" approaches allow me to release things that are out of my control and get on with the business of living and enjoying life. I've gone back to the past deliberately, not to dwell there, but to allow God to banish the demons that lurked behind me to devour me. I try to focus on living in today, and leaving the future to the Almighty. 

Which leaves only today (what a relief!), in which I am learning to live with gratitude. My over-sized bubble is slowly getting smaller as I continually learn to trust myself and God more, to let trustworthy people inside. It's a long way from where I'd like it to be, but it's coming.