What, You Too?

It was a few years back now that someone very close to me stomped badly on my feelings, and abused my trust. It left me re-assessing how I shared myself, both with others in my life and also on my blog. What I was prepared to share in order to say “this is me”. In some ways it left me incredibly sad that there are a few people ‘out there’ who will disregard the sacredness of my words so much. But it happened, and changes were made. I consciously cut back on what I share. The biggest shame of this is that it removed an opportunity to say “what, you too?

The connection of being able to say “so you feel this too?” is perhaps the biggest disappointment for me, because it is that which is what blogging is all about for me. The opportunity for a writer and a reader to connect and share a common thought.

When my feelings got stomped on in such a destructive way, subjects became off-limits, and I suspect I lost something as a blogger. Of course, there were always a few off-limit subjects, but now there were more. And with a couple already shared here, it was necessary to back-peddle and even change the privacy rating on posts which now went too far in exposing the real Cate. Now you were getting perhaps a slightly sanitised version of me. And that disappoints me, even though I feel safer.

One of the biggest changes in what I was prepared to write about was the issue of what comforts me, and what I use to self-soothe. It was too hard to put that ‘out there’ for fear of being laughed at, and simply being stomped on again. No one likes being stomped on, me included. I will do everything I can to avoid it now, even to the point of withdrawal. You see, it’s not just you that misses out when I choose to protect myself and not write about subjects close to my heart. I also miss out, as I lose the opportunity to connect with another who might say those few words “what, you too?

Perhaps it has been through a lot of therapy in years gone by that I have looked at what comforts me, particularly what I can use to comfort and self-soothe myself in times of distress. But also simply as I live and breathe. I know that I am perhaps a little weird in this. That was confirmed by my last psychiatrist. It felt okay to be described by him as such, simply because he heard me. I realised I didn’t have to be like everyone else, if someone I trusted with a part of me, heard and accepted who I was, what made me tick and what I used to comfort myself.

For there are some means of comfort which I have been using for as long as I can remember. I can remember doing ‘this’ (I’m not sharing details because that’s not the point of this post, and I still need to protect myself) as early as three years of age. My earliest memories include this means of comfort, even though I probably didn’t consciously know it was comforting me. I suspect that it went back further than that, too. Maybe back as far as being a baby.

What strikes me is that I wonder about my need for comfort at that stage. I have some ideas about that, but perhaps most importantly I realise that we all need comfort right from infancy, but almost more importantly we all need the ability to comfort ourselves too. We can’t rely on receiving comfort from others.

This week I read an interesting article about adults who use stuffed toys to comfort themselves. They literally carry these ‘toys’ with them. Of the two people interviewed, one had Autism and the other Asperger’s Syndrome. But there is a point to this beyond simply people with those disorders. They had worked out what comforted them, what they needed to get through interactions with the world.

“Tilley says she has always felt slightly different to others and is aware of stares when she’s out, but sometimes having Del [a stuffed toy pig] on her side helps her gain control of the situation.”

The article can be found by following this link:
Jamie and his Lion: The adults who take their soft toys to work

I encourage you to read the article, even if soft toys are of no interest to you. I think the article goes beyond a stuffed lion and a stuffed pig. It goes beyond the Autism spectrum too. It challenges us  to ask ourselves “what comforts you to the point that it enables you to traverse that thing called life?

I admit that when I read this article I had a “what, you too?” moment. I understood, for my own reasons, just what was going on here. What these people do makes total sense to me, and I applaud them in finding a way to comfort themselves while participating in that thing called life.

Many psychotherapists recommend something called a Soothing Box (and other names for the same thing). A box of items which a person can use to soothe themselves when they are in distress. I think these are a great idea, but I think that sometimes we have to go beyond a box we can occasionally pull out. We need to have ways to give us comfort, or soothing, in our everyday interactions. What do we need to get us through?

I think this is a particularly important question for people with mental illness. It can be hard interacting with the world. It can be hard to simply walk out our front door. So what can we do to ensure we are able to comfort ourselves? Maybe we don’t carry a four-foot long stuffed lion with us, but how do we interpret this article into what works for us?

Thanks for reading

 

Cate

 

Just Like Me

It’s been a busy week for the news media.  Wow, I guess they’ve all earned their negotiated salaries, although I do wish they would be paid somehow on the basis of what truth they spread.  Social media has also been busy.  Often partly a response to the news media, sometimes spread what they’ve called their own ‘truth’ and sometimes simply spreading lies (like the news), or popular opinion.

It’s made me pretty sad.  Sometimes it’s made me cry, that they can get away with saying the things the do, let alone convincing a somewhat gullible public that they are right.  Other times I took my own advice (Step Away From Your Screen) and literally stepped away from my computer, my television and my phone.  I had to do that to save my mental health because the whirlwind of information (true or otherwise) has wanted to wrap me up in it.  At times I wanted to fight some battles (because that’s who I am) but mostly I took my advice, backed off and watched with sadness.

Image credit: Chenspec/Wikipedia.com

During this week a lot of people have died in this world as a direct result of violence. There are the many who have made the news media, but there are also many more that we never hear about, yet their death’s are just as tragic.

The obvious victims are the 27 children and adults who were shot in the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut.  A tragic loss of so many lives that were mostly just beginning.

For a moment I want to consider two other deaths I have been aware of this week.  One is the 28th person to die at Sandy Hook, the shooter himself who turned the gun on himself.  Another tragic death I heard about this week was a man in England who was murdered in his own home. The details aren’t really important to what I am thinking, apart from to say that it appears his death was some type of vigilante pay back for a crime this man had recently been accused of having carried out.

In the case of both these men, the news media and the social media have played a part in spreading accusations and generalisations.  One man we have heard a lot about, the other you probably haven’t heard about.  What hasn’t been given is the truth.  We don’t know what is real and what is simply hearsay.

What I do know is that both of these men were just like me, in some ways.  They weren’t so different.  They had blood flowing through their veins. Like me they needed love, affection and acceptance.  At some point they had both probably been hurt badly, just like me.  These men were human beings, just like me, who it appeared that for some reason, everything went askew.

Maybe it was mental illness, maybe it was a developmental disorder.  Maybe too, they had some degree of evil (whatever that means) in them to drive them to the things they are said to have done.  Those things haven’t been clarified, yet the world has been quick to condemn.  Of the Connecticut young man I have seen a number of people describe him as ‘not human’.

That’s what leaves me sad.  I’m not condoning the actions of either of these men.  It was all wrong, and terribly devastating, particularly for those who lost family members and friends.

But these men were human, just like me.  And somewhere in spite of the horror of what has been happening, someone is no doubt grieving for them too.

I believe that these men were victims too.  I know that might be an unpopular stance to take, and I have no problem with people disagreeing with what I write (as long as I don’t get abused for an opinion).

Once, a number of years ago, both men were little boys and sometimes I find it helpful to think about them as when they were innocent children.  Again, because of the tragic death of 20 children last week it’s even hard to look at one of these men that way.  It just helps me to realise that while something has gone terrible wrong, these men were once just like you and me.

Yesterday I was at a barbeque (it’s summer here) which was a Christmas party for a group of people I know.  At one point I was sitting at a table with a lovely young man who I don’t know very well.  I’ve only met him a couple of times but what I do know is that he has Asperger’s Syndrome (a condition that has been subject to much media scrutiny this week).

It occurred to me while I was sitting eating my lunch with him, that it must be pretty difficult for him this week.  I know what it’s like to be looked down upon because I have a mental illness.  This young man doesn’t even have a mental illness (that I know of) yet the media have been putting him and other sufferers of Asperger’s in a group and saying we have to be careful of these people.  Apparently they might do ‘what Adam Lanza did’.

This man I was sitting with was, again, just like me.  He doesn’t deserve to be judged just because he has a disorder that makes him a little different from me.  Like me, he was enjoying having a drink, eating fresh berries and getting silly ‘Secret Santa’ gifts.  He had less to say for himself than most people on the group but that was the only noticeable difference.  He was, like me, having a good time.

Let me be very clear.  I’m not saying that horrific crimes committed against innocent people are acceptable.  They’re not.  It’s a terrible tragedy what has happened this week.  But we can’t afford to be looking at these people and thinking they are somehow different to us.  I’m not qualified to say why they might have done what they did.  I do have views on things that need to be done in society to prevent this from happening again, but those aren’t important right now.

What is important to me is that all the people who died this week (somewhere in the world) as a result of violence are human like me.  Someone loved them.  And to me, that puts a slightly different spin on things.

“The great gift of human beings is that we have the power of empathy,  we can all sense a mysterious connection
to each other.”

~  Meryl Streep

“Resolve to be tender with the young, compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving and tolerant with the weak and wrong. Sometime in your life, you will have
been all of these.” 

―    Siddhārtha Gautama