May is Cystic Fibrosis awareness month. After many surgeries, infections and hospitalizations, my brother was placed on the transplant list and received a double lung transplant three years ago because of this disease. He just lost yet another of his closest friends to cystic fibrosis, one who had her transplant at the same time as him.

To him and our family, this is a reminder of his continued and coming suffering, and his inevitable death from this disease unless a cure or significant improvement in treatment is found very soon.

For her, her family, my brother, our family and for me, I beg you please register (or check if you think you already are) as an organ donor at beadonor.ca.

Additionally, my wife and I are participating in the Walk to Make Cystic Fibrosis History in two weeks. Please considering making a donation to help us raise much needed funds for research. All funds go to Cystic Fibrosis Canada and every dollar makes a difference in the longevity and quality of my brother’s life and so many others who face this battle daily.

Heart ache.

Massive flooding is threatening human lives, homes, wildlife and the ecosystem, and essential human services like healthcare in Ottawa, Gatineau and surrounding communities.

Although many feel the military support did not come soon enough or with as much human power as needed early in the crisis, and likely still now, I want to say this is one of the very few kinds of military service I can throw my full support behind. All the rest is so complicated but it’s beautiful to see an engine of power being used for something other than violence.

Our Canadian neighbors will need our support in the coming weeks, and financial donations to organizations like the Red Cross provide far less logistical problems than donations of goods.

We have access to many resources to support the individuals effected, and although not nearly perfect, the care for safety of the residents of these Canadians communities is a privilege many developing nations in poverty situations simply can’t provide (current flooding in Bangladesh, as just one example).

And this particular instance of flooding demonstrates my deep concerns about rising global temperatures. I don’t have any clue how others could view this, along with the enormous amount of other examples, and come to any other conclusion than knowing with complete certainty that we are personally and collectively culpable for putting our world into a MASSIVE state of crisis that threatens the continuance of all Life on our Mother Earth.

Having Borderline Personality Disorder sucks a lot. The struggle and pain of it all is so intense sometimes.

But I’m also discovering the gifts of highly sensitive emotional people.

  • We are naturally empathetic and compassionate
  • We are able to have deep and authentic relationships
  • Our joy is contagious and can be found in the simplest of things
  • We can’t ignore the pain and injustice we see around us
  • We make great artists and storytellers.

I’m glad I’m still myself with BPD and that having intense emotions isn’t inherently a bad thing. Emotions are signals that help us understand what is important to us, what we need in each moment, and how we relate to the world around us. I’m grateful for my emotions, even the sometimes really painful ones, because of who they make me.

I don’t usually do much for Lent other than think about what I should/could/would do. But this year there’s something stirring deep down. A need for silence.

My brain works in a furious rush sometimes, and most of my life is filled with incredible life-giving moments, but sometimes the energy of those moments keeps me up at night because I just. can’t. shut. off.

My brain and my soul need a break. And I need to practice quiet.

I told someone yesterday that in grade nine a science teacher asked me to stop putting my hand up to answer questions so that other students would be more likely to participate. In grade twelve a teacher told me I take up too much verbal space.

Ya, I’m long-winded. And I’m sensitive about it. Nearly every time we leave a social gathering I ask Kathryn if I talked too much. It’s only just occurred to me in the last few months that I don’t need to (and don’t even benefit from) this compulsive desire to share and record every thought that comes swirling through my mind.

Kathryn’s highest love language is acts of service, and in my desire to love her well, I sometimes need to remind myself at bedtime that it is an act of service not to tell her every thought I have had all through the live long day. And then I have to tell myself it’s an act of service not to tell her I’m doing an act of service. The woman needs some sleep.

So, because of these heart stirrings, and because of a desire to deepen my internal peace, for the next forty days I plan to spend twenty minutes a day practicing external and internal quiet. I will sit quietly and focus on my breath and as thoughts come through my mind I will picture them as leaves on a river floating by, appreciated but not needing to be captured, and I will gently return to my breath.

Silence.

I feel mixed about #BellLetsTalk today. Is it a start? Yes. Is it enough? Hardly.

We need a lot more than just talk. We need practical ways to support one another through times of crisis. We need to teach people emotional coping skills (preferably as children). We need actual answers to why our brains sometimes go off kilter. We need medication that isn’t just a guessing game and that so often comes with heavy negative side effects.

I’m not the only one I know who feels frustrated hearing “if you feel suicidal, reach out and talk to someone.” Friends and family can only do so much and find it very frightening and overwhelming. And crisis lines and emergency psychiatric services aren’t much better. Generally you get held until the intensity of the moment passes and you’re sent home, maybe to follow up with your GP. You’re alive, yes, but the root of the problem hasn’t gone anywhere and you might be less likely to reach out next time if you feel there is no hope of actually feeling differently, not just being forced to stay safe.

There isn’t a whole lot that can be done to get to the root of why some people feel suicidal so often (or even just occasionally) unless we have more funding for research and adequate treatment. Far too many people are given 6-8 weeks with a therapist or psychiatrist and that just doesn’t cut it.

The wait list for DBT (the recommended treatment for Borderline Personality Disorder) in Hamilton is now over a year long. And while DBT services are expanding, its not nearly quick enough for the number of people being diagnosed and referred to the treatment. It is available in just a handful of cities, meaning hundreds if not thousands of people who would benefit don’t even get a chance. For someone who is acutely in crisis, suicidal, impulsive, behaving dangerously and feels like life is intolerable this is NOT acceptable. We need funding, and that doesn’t come from just talking about mental illness.

Bell Let’s Talk seems to focus on anxiety and depression. Yes, we need to talk about those – but we also need better understanding of schizophrenia, eating disorders, bipolar disorder, personality disorders, and so many more. And we need to understand the complexities of mental illness, abuse, addiction, poverty, gender and race. It’s not just rich white people who struggle. And far too often the people who need treatment the most can’t afford the costly private services available and have to wait on the long waitlists.

I am so grateful to have what many others don’t – a support system I can fall back on, a net to catch me when I need it. And the resources to pay for the treatment I need (with the support of my family). What about those who don’t have either of these things? How can we expect them to reach out if we’re not reaching back?

Often I have moments when something will cause me to remember a choice or action I’ve made in the past that I feel embarrassed about or regret. Sometimes these things just pop into my head without any apparent reason. And I often start to feel really bad, embarrassed, worthless, stupid. I imagine that everyone who knows me only remembers this terrible stuff too.

Sometimes it’s just embarrassing stuff but sometimes it’s stuff where I’ve hurt someone, especially Kathryn, and I feel so much worse – rotten to my core. It might be from yesterday, it might be from a long time ago. When I was a kid there was a time I was mean to a good friend and made her cry, I remember that so clearly and still feel bad.

What I’ve been trying to consider in these moments is the difference between shame and regret. I definitely regret those moments that cause pain, but I think that’s different than defining my whole life by them. My whole relationship with that childhood friend was not defined by that one mean moment, and yet it’s the clearest memory I have of her. And when embarrassing or hurtful things happened in university – that’s not what people remember me for (or at least not the only thing they remember me for).

Today at work this came up. I felt so bad all of a sudden for a conflict that happened with my coworker a few months ago. I apologized afterward and things have been good since, but the memory of the conflict just sort of consumed me and in that moment became the definition of my relationship with this person.

As I walked to the bus stop, I reminded myself that this was a moment of regret, but not one that has continued to define my relationship with her and not one that defines who I am. This eased the shame quite a bit, which surprised me because I’m not used to finding a way to help shame settle down – usually it just overwhelms me until I sleep or do something impulsive/negative.

Obviously the more painful the memory, the harder this is, but I’m hopeful that this little learning moment will help me remember all the positive things when I feel consumed by only the negatives, especially in my relationship with Kathryn.

It’s okay to feel regret – it’s healthy. I don’t have to pretend like every decision I make is good or that my actions and words don’t have weight. But getting overwhelmed in a shame spiral has never once helped me make a decision that I’ve been proud of, I usually just act in ways to confirm the shame, which only makes things worse.

Remembering that those memories cause feelings of regret but don’t have to cause shame can actually help me focus on what I want to do differently, to think about how I can act more consistently with my values going forward. This is what I am working toward.

This poem, written by my friend Rachael Barham, speaks volumes to me of the kind of spirituality I seek. I hope it does the same for you.

If this be a kindly mist
Then I wish to surrender to it
Fall into its unclarity and darkness
As into a soft and giving sleep

But it must be Love:
It must love me like no other
And cause me to love in return
– To love the mist itself
And the shapes that rise in it,
Bodies softened,
Hard lines blurred

If this mist be Love
I wish to view all things in and through it
I wish never again to see clearly, boldly, singly
I wish never again to see the world divided, sorted, sifted
But joined, surrounded, lost in obscurity together

May the mist be thick enough to hide from me my own hands
Left from right, right from left
Good from bad, right from wrong
So that I can move unselfconscious
Unobserved and unnoticed

Should I feel myself tugged at by a hidden hand
Toyed with, pushed and pulled
Twisted round to face…
(What?)
Let me give in to the swirl, fold, whisper
And find myself taken in
Encircled, embraced and
At last
Lost

Another piece written by Rachael Barham. You can find more of her writing at Rachael Felicity Grace.

Never underestimate the power of a question.
Don’t dismiss it as mere herald to the all-powerful answer,
Or despise its uncertainty as feeble or unsafe.

A good question is full of life.
It bursts with the curiosity and promise of undiscovered worlds.
Its key turns the lock of never-opened doors.

So don’t let your own question spill heedlessly from your mouth.
Instead, turn it,
Like a hard toffee between tongue and teeth.
Savour, smooth and hone it.

Hold and admire it, a wild bird balanced on your faltering hand,
And when you release it to another’s charge,
Be ready for it to return to you unfamiliar,
Changed beyond recognition,
And pulling in directions you did not predict or desire.

Learn to listen,
Just listen,
And to let answers be extended questions.

Likewise, when another’s question comes to you,
Don’t push it away if an answer does not spring instantly, comfortingly, to mind;
For this question’s gift was fashioned in the ferment of someone else’s strange soul.

A question should be given space
To roam through forgotten rooms.
Perhaps at first it will seem to bounce like a discarded rubber ball,
Its lonely thud echoing against the emptiness of abandoned space,
Bareness of untrodden floorboards.

But refrain from picking it up to thrust again into a cosy pocket,
And its ricochet will knock open closets,
spill chests,
split windows,
Drawing invisible arcs to connect random points,
Until the tangle of lines
Suddenly
Reveals a picture.

This picture you may pick up
And wonderingly exhibit,
Or carefully fold to store in your heart’s chest.

But the question?
Let the question bound on…

I need this today, and thought some of you might need it too.

If You Feel Too Much

Jamie Tworkowski, founder of TWLOH

If you feel too much, there’s still a place for you here.
If you feel too much, don’t go.
If this world is too painful, stop and rest.
It’s okay to stop and rest.
If you need a break, it’s okay to say you need a break.
This life – it’s not a contest, not a race, not a performance, not a thing that you win.
It’s okay to slow down.
You are here for more than grades, more than a job, more than a promotion, more than keeping up, more than getting by.
This life is not about status or opinion or appearance.
You don’t have to fake it.
You do not have to fake it.
Other people feel this way too.
If your heart is broken, it’s okay to say your heart is broken.
If you feel stuck, it’s okay to say you feel stuck.
If you can’t let go, it’s okay to say you can’t let go.
You are not alone in these places.
Other people feel how you feel.
You are more than just your pain. You are more than wounds, more than drugs, more than death and silence.
There is still some time to be surprised.
There is still some time to ask for help.
There is still some time to start again.
There is still some time for love to find you.
It’s not too late.
You’re not alone.
It’s okay – whatever you need and however long it takes – it’s okay.
It’s okay.
If you feel too much, there’s still a place for you here.
If you feel too much, don’t go.
There is still some time.

1917235_174145748966_4655768_n.jpg

I held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

It answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.

– Warsan Shire, from “What They Did Yesterday Afternoon”

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