Hair philosophy.

Posted on November 9, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

I cut my own hair. I’ve cut my own hair since I was in college. My brother’s wife at the time was a hairdresser and she happened to mention that she cut her own hair. I’d never even considered such a thing. I always thought that was something that you had hire someone to do. How many other things are possible if we just hear that we can do it ourselves?

Fortunately when I first started cutting my own hair I was in college, where it didn’t really matter what my hair looked like. I had a job on campus to pay off my student loan, so it wasn’t like a real job. If my hair looked weird I wasn’t going to get fired. Plus, having strange hair is part of being in college. If it looked really strange I could wear a hat.

I cut my hair like I trim shrubbery. I whack at it until it doesn’t bother me. Just like shrubbery, it will grow back, so there really isn’t too much that can go wrong. Well, there was the time that I cut off way too much and had to trim up the rest to match… It turns out that I look good with a Mohawk. It is more about attitude than style. If you carry the “yeah, I meant this” attitude, you can get away with any style.

I have gotten my hair cut professionally before and it always seems to be done wrong. I have a weird random cowlick that starts about four inches down on my right side. I know where it is but the hairdressers never do. I’ve decided that it is just easier to cut my own hair. Why pay to get my hair cut, and have it done badly, when I can screw it up myself for free?

If you are a highly sensitive person, cutting your own hair is the way to go. Going to a hairdressing salon can be a very overwhelming experience if you have sensory processing disorder. No more dealing with a stranger touching your head. No more feeling trapped in that uncomfortable chair with a person standing behind you. No more smelling the strong chemicals in the salon.

After all these years I’ve gotten pretty good at cutting my own hair. It takes a bit of practice to get right, because I am working backwards in a mirror. The trick is to cut a little bit at a time and make small adjustments. Also – have a simple hairstyle.

I used to cut my hair as a study break in college. I studied a lot, and when the stress would get to me I’d cut my hair. I guess I got in more practice that way. It didn’t look that bad. In fact, a friend wanted her hair cut like mine and I cut her hair for free. She looked like me and also worked on campus. It was funny dealing with people in the bookstore where I worked who would stare at me and say “Weren’t you in the computer lab?” I’d assure them that I wasn’t. They wouldn’t believe me. I’d ask – was I really quiet and shy, or energetic like I am now? The quiet and shy one is Beth, not Betsy. Plus – her hairstyle wasn’t exactly like mine – it was the mirror of mine. It was a funny summer.

Library buffet.

Posted on November 8, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

Libraries are like all you can eat buffets. You can fill up on all sorts of stuff that is good for you, or you can fill up on junk. It is your choice, but also you have to bear the responsibility of your choice. If you are what you eat, you certainly are what you read.

There is something for everyone at the library. No matter what your taste or inclination, there is something for you. Even in fiction, I am constantly amazed at the variety. There are not just multiple genres, but crossovers. Large print Christian Amish suspense. Urban historical Western romance. Zombie romantic comedy. We have it all.

There is a lot of fiction, but also a lot of non fiction. If you want to learn anything about how to improve your health, your business, your marriage, your community, or the world, the library has it.

The library was my salvation when I was a child. It still is. I learned about the secret of Santa Claus from the library. I learned about the secret of sex too. I have no idea if my parents were ever going to clue me in to either one of these things. I learned early on that if I wanted the truth, I was going to find it in a book rather than from them. Even now, if there is anything that I need to know more about, I find a book from the library and learn.

Libraries are also my escape. If life is a little bit heavy, then some Terry Pratchett will lighten it. If life is too predictable, then Neil Gaiman will make things more interesting. Libraries are a place to find new friends for my journey.

Libraries are the great equalizer. It doesn’t matter how poor you are or how uneducated your parents are. With a library you can escape the horrible pull of poverty and ignorance. Yet, just like with a buffet, you can make bad choices too. Well, maybe I shouldn’t say they are bad, but they certainly aren’t nutritious or uplifting.

I’m sad when people use their library to exclusively waste their time and thus their lives. I’m sad when poor parents don’t use the resource of the library to help their children escape the cycle of poverty. Nothing is more empowering than knowledge.

We have a limit of 10 movies that patrons can check out at a time, and there are a stunning amount of people who get that limit and watch them and get then more, every few days. Some people have their wives’ and child’s card and get 30 movies at a time.

What an amazing waste.

Then there is “urban erotic fiction”, with broken English and stereotyped scripts. I’ve already written about how damaging I find that genre. I’m upset that it teaches African-American women that they are things and not people. I’m upset that it teaches them that they aren’t anything unless they have a man, and they aren’t much then either. I’m upset that they are reading the literary equivalent of deep-fried Twinkies. I want them to be empowered, not enslaved.

There are also other choices that aren’t the best. Sure, you don’t have to get educational materials all the time. But I worry about parents who let their children only get comic books. Children are like plants. You have to support them and raise them. They can’t be allowed to just grow up like weeds. They have to have good information put in them.

It is stunning to see the difference between foreign born parents and American born parents. The foreign born ones get educational books for their children. The children learn early on that their job is to learn. They develop healthy habits about learning. The parents choose for their kids the majority of their books.

The American born parents let their children pick out whatever they want. While I’m all for kids having some say in what they read, I know that they aren’t going to push themselves at all. Some, generally lower income ones, let their kids get just movies. This will just continue the cycle of poverty. If they can’t read, they can’t get good jobs.

Library materials and food are the same. If you let a child choose what to eat, he is going to pick junk food and candy. No child picks broccoli and squash if he has had hot dogs and chocolate. I’m not for censorship at the library, the same way I’m not for eliminating fried food at Golden Corral. I am for people being mindful about the repercussions of their choices. Life is short. Choose wisely.

The philosophy of adventure games.

Posted on November 8, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

When I was a child I had a Commodore VIC-20. It wasn’t a very powerful computer, but it was something. My phone can do more than this thing can, but that has more to say about technology today. I played very simple games on it because the computing power of it was so low.

There were text-only adventure games that I enjoyed. They went under the name “Scott Adams Adventure Games”. They were like the “Choose Your Own Adventure” books but you didn’t have to keep up with which page you were on.

One of my favorites was my first. It was called “Adventureland.” I’d played it for a few months and found only three of the treasures. I knew that there were ten more, and I’d been all over that world trying to figure out what I had missed. Because it was text only, I couldn’t go on any physical clues. It isn’t like today, where I can play a game with my husband and one of us will notice a glint or a shimmer on the side of the screen and know there is something there we need to pay attention to.

We had invited over a neighbor’s daughter for the evening. She was much older than I was, an adult. I’m not sure why I was allowed to put on my adventure game while she was there. It seems kind of rude to have on a game while visitors are present. It was in the living room, hooked up to the television. This was the monitor. As I said, it was a simple computer. The game took up so much computing power the game itself had to supply more RAM to make it work.

Perhaps I wanted to show it off. Perhaps we had run out of ways to entertain her but the evening was not over. I know that she wasn’t expected to play bridge with my parents, possibly because that requires four people and I didn’t know how to play.

I put in the game and explained how it worked. It is a little hard to keep up with where you are in the game, so I had written up a map. N, W, U, D – easy. I had in all the directions of how to get from “room” to “room” with a tiny description of what was in each area so I could re-orient myself if I put in the wrong directions. I showed her how the interface worked, with its simple commands.

And then she noticed the tree. There was a tree that was very prominent in one “room” of the game, and there had been a treasure in it. You had to climb the tree to get it. I’d quickly ignored the tree as a future source of other goodies. Generally you only get one thing in one area. But there was more to be found there – lots more.

Part of the game, like all adventure games, was that you picked up everything that wasn’t nailed down. In this game you could have an inventory of about six things at a time. One of the items that I had was an ax. I had no idea what I needed it for, but I had it, because that is what you do with adventure games.

Perhaps that is a little twisted about adventure games. They teach you to go into every room possible and to pick up everything you can. So they teach you breaking and entering and theft. They also teach you that if you fail, you can just hit the reset button and try it all over again. These lessons aren’t really healthy lessons to be imprinting on a young mind. But I digess.

Our visitor asked me to chop the tree down with the ax. I thought that was the silliest thing ever. That won’t do anything. But to humor her, I did. I put in the command in the way the game needed it – probably “Take AX. Use AX on TREE.” It had very finicky syntax needs. Half the game was figuring out how to talk to it.

The tree fell down. Then we “looked” at the tree again, and there was a rotten stump – the tree had been hollow. And then we went down into the tree – and the rest of the world opened up. There was a whole complex of tunnels and passages under there, filled with more puzzles to solve and treasure to find. That was what I’d been looking for all along and I just didn’t know it. I had the tool to do it, I just didn’t use it because I dismissed it.

It was because of a stranger’s “Why not?” that made it possible for me to solve the rest of the game. It took a few more weeks to solve it because there was so much to it and I had to barter time to use the TV to play my game. If I was playing my game, nobody else could watch TV.

Isn’t that the way it always is? We get set in our ways, thinking that our way is the only right way, and yet we know we are missing something. Then a stranger comes along and suggests something so off the wall that we are sure it has to be wrong. We get stuck up in our pride and we can’t move forward.

I just knew her idea had to be fruitless because she had never played any adventure game. I was showing it to her. It was my game. She was just a passenger, I was the driver. Who was she to tell me how to play this game and where to go? But she was totally right. Thank goodness I got over my pride and tried her suggestion. If it weren’t for her I would have probably just decided the game was too hard and given up.

Kindergarten 11-6-13 Tattoos, and being “in”

Posted on November 7, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

One of my students was out sick today. I had V and J. It is a beautiful fall day and they were more interested in going outside to play than working. To be honest, so was I. Sometimes the playground is a better place to learn the real lessons.

The teacher left me a note that V had told her Mom that she didn’t want to come to school anymore because it is too hard. The teacher is traumatized by this. What do you do to engage a child who wants to be anywhere but there?

And then I looked around at the classroom. The two girls who had cried the first week that they didn’t want to be there, that they missed their Mom, they were still there. May be they had forgotten their anxiety. May be they had gotten distracted. Maybe it had gotten better.

Being a kindergartner is a bit like being a mental patient. You say you want to leave, and sure, you can, but it isn’t easy. It is hard to remember whatever you want to do for very long. Your mind flits around quite a bit.

Leaving school is completely the wrong thing for her. Since her home life is so messed up right now with her Mom in rehab, staying home would be impossible. She doesn’t know yet that education is her only way out of that hole. If you can read and you are curious, you can escape the terrible situation you were born into. It doesn’t even matter what you are taught at school – you have access to libraries so you can self-teach.

But, we are here, in this moment, and the teacher and I are trying to get her to just stay with us for now. Just stay, and try. Hopefully we can inspire her to “get” school. Hopefully we can engage her just long enough for her to work up a head of steam to see that school is the cure, not the problem.

We played the Dora alphabet game. It was fun! I love board games, so I’m glad I could play this with her. It teaches colors and counting and the alphabet and vocabulary. She did very well. There was another tutor nearby (a friend of mine) and she was encouraging her student. We could hear her say “I’m so proud of you” to her student and V. whipped her head around towards her words. It is obvious she is hungry for affirmation. I praise her, but is it ever enough?

She had drawings on her arm. I asked if she had done that and she said that her Dad did. She said that he made tattoos. To give a show of solidarity I showed her the tattoos I have in my leg. I knew I wore a skirt for a reason today. Usually I wear pants or a really long skirt so they don’t see my tattoos. Tattoos aren’t as taboo as they were, but they still have some stigma. She saw my tattoos and I was “in.” We are part of the same tribe.

J still doesn’t know the alphabet. Still. There are four different people working with him. I’m starting to think that he can do better but he likes the attention. I’m just not sure what tool is required to get into his head. He has to do better. There are certainly impulse and anger issues. I suspect his parents don’t work with him at home either.

I get so frustrated with how many children are seen as an afterthought. It isn’t their fault that they were conceived. There has to be a better way of getting young people to understand the huge responsibility that is being a parent – before they can become parents. No child should be unwanted or unloved.

Reconcile

Posted on November 6, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

Reconciliation is an important concept. It is where you try to make things right. It is important as a means to bring forth peace and understanding. It is not healthy to hold a grudge or be angry. Reconciliation is a way to release that. It is more than forgiveness. It is a healing, where two people are made harmonious.

Jesus says in Matthew 18:15
15 If your brother wrongs you, go and show him his fault, between you and him privately. If he listens to you, you have won back your brother. (Amplified Bible)

He also says in Matthew 5:21-24
21 “You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ 22 But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire. 23 So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you,24 leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift. (NRSV)

Sometimes “brother” is translated as “another member of the church” but it can simply mean any other person.

We are called to be peacemakers and healers. The change in the world starts with us.

But what does it mean to practice reconciliation? You reconcile your bank balance every month. Money going out and money coming in needs to balance what the bank says you have and what you say you have. If there is a discrepancy, it needs to be found. Otherwise your account is in danger of being overdrawn.

The same is true with relationships.

I had a boss for 13 years who alternated between being a bully and a tyrant. She was horrible to work with. She wasn’t my direct supervisor so I didn’t have to deal with her that much, but it was enough. She was constantly in a bad mood. She was always angry, and would make up oppressive rules that had nothing to do with library policy. She would then change the rules and yell at us for breaking them. She was territorial. She put up passive-aggressive notes all the time. She was the master of psychological warfare.

When she announced she was going to retire, she said to all of us that she had been hard on us because she wanted us to be our best. It was for our own good that she had yelled at us for all that time.

I had suffered from her actions. I still have a little bit of leftover stress from her. There are many unhealthy habits I need to unlearn from dealing with her.

Shortly before she retired I asked if I could meet with her. I went into her office to talk. Now – even her office is oppressive. It is a small room with a huge desk. A chair for the visitor is wedged between the wall and her desk. It is very claustrophobic. I’m sure it is intentional. She was very aware of how to physically intimidate people. She did it way too often for it to be accidental. There is another chair that is slightly better positioned, but it always has her bag in it. I chose that one. I moved her bag to the floor. I talked to her for a little, trying to explain how I felt. I’d read a lot about boundaries and codependency recently. “Toxic Parents” was really helpful for knowing how to deal with her. It would have helped if I’d read these years earlier, but late is better than never.

There is only so much you can say in 30 minutes when there was 13 years of abuse. I had to be concise, and stay on task. I had to stay strong.

I reminded her of her statement – that she had been hard on us for our own good. I said – “Would it have been so hard to say “thank you” every now and then?” That got her. She had no answer for that. We never heard “thank you”. We only heard from her when we screwed up, which to her was often in her opinion. And mostly what we screwed up had nothing to do with our work. She was territorial. We used the “wrong” trash can. We didn’t cover our food in the microwave. We had boxes on top of our lockers. We contacted someone downtown at the Main library about anything.

She was terrified of any information leaving the building. She was being watched by Main administration. They knew how abusive she was. Yet they did nothing, because if they did she would have pulled the race card. But that is another post, for another day. We got abused because they were afraid.

I’m glad I talked to her. In the end, she didn’t come to understand anything. In the end, she started to turn it all back on me and make everything my fault. In the end, she was the same horrible person she always had been. I think that her problem is that she’s been a bully her whole life and she has never had anyone stand up to her and say “you can’t treat people like this.”

In the end, I walked away. I cried in the bathroom. I didn’t give her the pleasure of seeing me cry.

In the end, I’m glad that I did it. Nothing changed in her, but something changed in me. I spoke up. I told her how harmful she had been to me (and to all of us).

Now, when am I obliged to reconcile?

There is a lady at church who felt very hurt by my post “My Problem With Church”. She read it, and instead of talking to me about it (like Jesus tells us to do) she called the priest. The priest attacked me. I’ve not been back to church since. But this lady also sent me a very rambling letter about the post. She also used to go to my library, but I’ve not seen her since.

Do I have to reconcile with her? I don’t have a problem with her. She has a problem with me.

My post wasn’t about her, or her ministry. She is in charge of the Pastoral Care department. These are the people who take care of the people who are members of the church. This includes the elderly who need trips to the doctor or transportation to church. They visit the sick as well. This is to supplement what the priest is supposed to do.

My post had pointed out that church – not just that church, but all churches – is called to take care of everybody – not just those people who are members. Taking care of just the people in church makes it a club. Jesus tells us that we are supposed to help everybody.

Then there is a guy who was very abusive to me. He is a patron of the library. He threatened me. My boss knew about it, but he is still allowed in the building. Do I reconcile with him? Do I try to make peace with him? I am not the aggressor. He is.

At what point is it healthy for me to take care of everybody else’s feelings? At what point am I supposed to let them come to me if they have a problem with me?

I can understand reconciliation when it comes to making peace when I have wronged someone. I’m just not sure how it works if someone has wronged me, or if someone got their feelings hurt and it wasn’t intentional. Sometimes people need to work on their own emotional problems. Sometimes trying to fix it just causes more problems and brings up more pain for them.

Reconciliation is great, but it doesn’t come with any real instructions. And it certainly isn’t easy. Am I trying to avoid reconciliation because it is hard? Am I trying to make the other person’s responsibility because I just don’t want to do the work?

Dissociate

Posted on November 5, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

There is a reason my dentist likes how I am as a patient. I dissociate when I’m there. It is as if I pull away from my body.

It is a skill I learned when I was a child. I was abused and neglected. It is a normal coping mechanism for me. I know it isn’t normal. I know it isn’t healthy. When you can’t escape a bad situation, sometimes it is the only way you can survive.

Some people escape by drinking or doing drugs. When you are a child you don’t have these resources. When you are raised in a house where emotions are not expressed, dissociation is a way to escape.

My parents never showed any healthy emotions. They never hugged in front of me. One time I came into the kitchen and they were hugging and they stopped, embarrassed. I never heard them say “I love you” to each other.

It is a wonder I’m as sane as I am.

I remember intentionally forgetting something really bad in my childhood. I remember saying to myself that I could forget it. Apparently I did a great job because I don’t know what it was that I forgot.

It is like showing up to the scene of the crime and seeing all the evidence. I know something bad happened but I don’t know what.

So when bad things happen to me, especially physically, I tend to separate from my body. It is a coping mechanism that I have learned. I suspect I could unlearn it, but first I have to catch myself doing it. I do it so well that I don’t even notice it until after it is over.

I remember doing it after my parents died. I had to take care of things but I didn’t want to. It felt as if I was looking at the world from far back in my skull. It is as if everything was far away and I was seeing it through a telescope , or down a well. Sounds were distant. Nothing was good or fun or interesting. Everything was just a chore. Perhaps this is a normal part of grief.

When my priest started attacking me for my opinions about church, I started doing it too. I backed up in my mind. I was sitting there but my mind wasn’t there. Fortunately I had been going to a spiritual director and I remembered to pray and ask Jesus into it.

I do it at the chiropractors office too. I like going there, but I realized that I was blanking out part of how he adjusts me. There is a point where he has me cross my arms in front of my chest and he leans me back on the table. He throws his upper body on mine to pop my back. It is very fast, but I realized later that I was blanking that out. I realized that I was unable to describe to my husband how the doctor adjusted me at that point. Later, I was waiting to go into a room and I saw him adjust another patient in the same way and realized I’d just “left” every time he did it.

Monday was my reexam. It was time to be reevaluated as to how well the adjustments are going. It is also time to figure out how often I need to go. I had just gone twice a week and not thought about it. Now I was taking time and thinking.

It is bodywork. He is literally breaking up parts of me that are not flexible. And one way of dealing with dissociation is to flood the person with the problem thing. Don’t run away from it – face it head on.

Should I ask him to modify how he adjusts me, or should I just go into it with open eyes?

I debated with myself on Monday whether I should tell him what was going on in my head. Should I tell him I was possibly molested as a child?

I was writing this while in the therapy room. That is 10 minutes of TENS treatment. It is boring, so I write. While I was writing I remembered “asking Jesus into it”. Why not?

So I did. I prayed. Jesus, help me know what to do. Give me the words to say. Help me be healed.

And I told the doctor and he was very kind. We had the adjustment as usual, but I was present and mindful.

And I’ve come to see it as the same motion as being baptised in a river. We go down, held. We go down, backwards, trusting. We go down, into breathlessness. And we arise, changed.

Health advice from near strangers

Posted on November 5, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

There have been several patrons who have asked where I was recently. They noticed that I was gone for a bit. I’m part of the place – I’ve been there since it opened. That was thirteen years ago. Some think I retired. That would be nice, but I can’t retire for at least 15 more years. I try not to think about how much of my life is being spent here. That is partly why I blog.

I tell them that I was on vacation for a week, and I was out a bit before that because I slipped a disc in my back. With the first part they sometimes want to know where I went. I stayed home. I did as much nothing as possible. I read a lot. I played some video games. I meant to collage or paint but instead I read books about image transfer. I still can’t figure it out and I think I’m just going to have to waste a few canvases and try something out.

The second part of my story is the funny part. When they hear I slipped a disc, they have a lot of questions. How did it happen? It happened here, at work. I was just walking along and twisted and boom. Pain. Nothing special. It was just the straw that broke the Betsy’s back. I did a forward fold to try to make things better and it only made it worse.

Sometimes they ask why it happened. I’m in pretty good shape, so they are surprised. I was too. It happened because I have scoliosis. It is very slight, and it has developed over time. Contrary to popular opinion, and the opinion of my coworkers and the patrons, scoliosis can develop. It isn’t always something you have as a child. So my back goes left, and the disc went right.

Then they ask if I am better, and I say I am because I am going to a great chiropractor. Sometimes they ask who. When I tell them, it seems like the majority of them go to him and agree how wonderful he is. Those who don’t go to him or have never been to a chiropractor have further opinions. My favorite – one lady who told me that I should be wearing a back brace. I told her that it is really important to move the discs. If you don’t get movement, the discs will get weaker. OK, she said – then are you doing the exercises your doctor told you to do? This is funny because she went from “don’t move at all” to “make sure you move.” Pick one. I assured her that I do yoga and water aerobics, so I’m good.

Others have said “make sure you don’t go too much.” – going on the popularly held opinion that chiropractors try to get you to come way too much so they can make more money. I point out that when I got braces, it took four years for the doctor to realign my teeth. Why should I expect my back to be any faster? They agree that I have a good point there.

I’m amazed how my business is their business.

That is part of my job. We get to know each other. We have a weird relationship, that is friendly, but we aren’t friends. It is hard to know where the boundaries are sometimes. There are certainly patrons that I have become friends with. I even married one. But there are others who think they are my friend because they see me every week and I smile. But they don’t get that I smile because I have to. It is part of my job. Just because I’m friendly doesn’t mean I’m their friend.

Recommit

Posted on November 4, 2013 by betsybeadhead | 2 Comments

Sometimes my energy gets really low. It isn’t a great feeling. I don’t want to be up all the time, but I certainly don’t want to sink into the doldrums either.

I have let my flame get really low the past two weekends. I have noticed it and recommitted myself. I find it is important to commit to a practice of mindfulness, of intention, of purpose. When I stray from that practice I don’t notice it right away. I notice a week or two later when everything starts to not work correctly.

Perhaps some of this comes from being bipolar. Perhaps it is normal for humans to have mood swings that can leave them feeling so worthless they don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t know. I know I’m bipolar and I know that this is what I experience.

Sometimes getting out from under this funk feels like pushing a rock up a big hill. It feels like I never get anywhere. It feels like it is all work all the time and it never gets easier.

But I’ve been here before. I remember. It is slow going and requires patience and discipline, but it gets better. The problem comes when it gets going really well and I stop doing all the things I know I should do and I start to slide back down that hill again.

I was off last Friday, as usual. I didn’t have any solid plans. This is always a bad start. There were some things I could do, but nothing I had to do. I was tempted to skip yoga, but I knew that would mean I would stay at home and the funk would get worse. I pulled myself out of bed and went. My heart wasn’t in it but I knew that I was doing something good for myself. Just doing that gave me a little more energy.

A Hasidic Rabbi pointed out once that you can’t burn down a tree with a match, but if you chop the tree up into little pieces, you can. This is a useful thought. In part it means that it is OK to break up tasks into little pieces. Sometimes we think that if we can’t do it all, we shouldn’t even do a little bit of it. It also means that just doing a little bit of something can give you enough energy to do a little bit more of it.

When my flame is low and I’m recommitting myself, I have to be very intentional about what I do.

I avoid all fried food.
I eat no meat.
I skip spicy food.
I go back to my exercise routine – walking, yoga, water aerobics.
I craft in some way – bead, draw, paint.
I write.
I avoid processed sugar.
I avoid “retail therapy”.

I already have given up smoking and caffeine. These two are really bad for mental health.

Sometimes something as simple as washing the dishes or doing the laundry can be healing. It is something that when I notice later I’ve done it, I feel better. Vacuuming doesn’t seem to have this affect – it doesn’t produce a visible result. Sometimes just noticing that there is less clutter helps my head.

What is it about doing these things that makes me feel better? Is it eating vegetarian that makes me feel better, or the fact that I have chosen to do something that I feel is good for me? Half of this is getting past what the Buddhists call “the monkey mind.” That is the part of your mind that is all “gimme gimme gimme”. It doesn’t care about what is healthy or right or good. It is your inner toddler.

It is hard to fight the monkey mind. It makes you think it is you.

I try not to go overboard on this. I have learned to have patience with myself. It is a slow process of re-entry. It isn’t wise to swing the pendulum too far one way or another. When you are sick, you don’t want to run a marathon. It is good to do things carefully.

It is just like driving. If you notice you are getting out of the lane, you don’t want to yank the steering wheel too sharply. You are better off gently steering back into the correct lane. If you yank the wheel, you might veer off in the wrong direction.

If you are in a yoga pose and you notice you are getting wobbly, you don’t want to over correct. You are better off making micro adjustments. If you overcorrect you’ll likely fall.

This is exactly the same thing. The only problem is that when your mind gets out of the lane or wobbly you don’t have a lot of feedback. You don’t have a way of noticing it. You notice when you crash into the guardrail. You notice when you fall on the floor. Good mental health requires you notice before that happens.

Friday wasn’t a 10. It was more like a 5. But I know if I’d not paid attention and started to steer things in a better direction, it would have been a 2. I’m ok with a 5. And I know that tomorrow I’ll try again.

War on Christmas

Posted on November 3, 2013 by betsybeadhead | Leave a comment

How about we all declare a “war on Christmas” this year and we don’t buy anything for anyone? Celebrate by spending time with family. Make gifts, if you must give them. Make presence be your present. We cannot object to the commercialization of Christmas with our mouths and then support it with our wallets.

Christmas has become a tiresome event. It has grown into a monstrosity. It has become a reason to buy everything in sight and wear ourselves out. We have forgotten that Christmas was first celebrated in a stable, quietly, in the back alley of a nowhere town. It was celebrated by three people, surprised, alone, and unprepared. And yet it was enough. It was exactly enough.

We have forgotten in the midst of all the tinsel and paper and layaway plans that Christmas is about welcoming God into our lives. We have forgotten the joy of knowing that we are not alone in this lonesome world. God came to us, in the form of a helpless child, born to unwed parents, in a desolate and desperate time.

God comes to us, like that. God comes to all of us, quietly, surprisingly, in the middle of our tears and our troubles. God comes to us where we are, as we are. We don’t have to be perfect or well dressed or well educated. We just have to be ourselves, open to the questions.

What if God is real?
What if God loves us so much that God comes down to be with us, instead of us having to go to God?
What if “eternal life” means waking up, now, and living life fully?

Sometimes the questions frighten us more than the answers.

With the commercialization of Christmas we have traded big spending for the Baby. We have traded materialism for the Message. We’ve put so much “stuff” on top of the beauty of what Christmas really means that we can’t see it anymore.

Drop it all. Drop the lights and the show and the money. Drop it. It is holding us back. We’ve been fed artificial flavoring and coloring for so many years that we’ve forgotten what reality tastes like. “Taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8)

Indeed.