Muddled Lessons and A Frog

I was asked to write a narrative about an experience in my life that had taught me an unexpected life lesson.  While the particular lesson in this story didn't truly become "learned" until I had kids of my own, I hope you enjoy the tale from my childhood ....

The life lessons that we teach our children are, sometimes, crystal clear for their meaning and worth, but sometimes those lessons come across about as clear as swamp water. We as parents attempt to teach these lessons purposefully through both words and examples in our own behaviors, we ultimately teach them unintentionally through that which we ourselves say and do on a daily basis, and, upon occasion, we impart lessons through sheer unadulterated accident. The “accidental” lessons tend to have the most muddled meaning to a child initially, even though we may have thought ourselves clear as day.
In the summer of 1976 I was a headstrong, precocious, tomboy of a five year old.  I was not a bad child, and I did listen to and respect my parents, but I had my own ideas about doing things and tended to be fiercely independent, which tended to drive my parents nuts.  At that time we lived in a quiet little neighborhood near the local college on a cul-de-sac street called Nottingham Drive. Things were not as they are today. It was normal to be outside playing with friends from sunup to sundown, and even at five, although I was not allowed to roam about completely alone, I could walk across the street or down the a few houses to a friend's home without worry. I had learned to look both ways, then look both ways again, before crossing the street. I knew that riding my bicycle on the side of the road was okay on our street, but that big wheels were only allowed to be ridden on the sidewalk, as cars will see bikes in their way but not necessarily a low-to-the-ground big wheel. Hopscotch was a favorite game, but the boards were only to be drawn on the sidewalks and driveways, never in the middle of the road. Playing games in the middle of the road was forbidden. I loved animals, but I should only pet and play with the domesticated ones that belonged to people as pets, not the wild birds, squirrels, racoons or rabbits that fascinated me completely, and under no circumstance was I ever to touch a dead wild animal. Period.
One morning I was playing with the twin boys that lived a couple doors down my street.  We had decided to go on a quest, and although I remember putting together a backpack and utilizing a walking stick I do not remember what we were looking for on our so-called quest that particular day.  What I do remember vividly is finding the frog.  It was a rather large frog that had, unfortunately, been flattened by some unsuspecting driver smack in the middle of the road between our houses.  Talk about a dilemma!  We discussed the grave situation at hand, and decided that the best thing to do would be to bury the frog right where it lay in the middle of the street. We were not allowed to touch it to move it, as touching dead animals was forbidden, and it was bigger than our sandbox shovels could handle picking up, even though initially we did attempt that option.  This was not playing in the road.  A proper burial for the poor animal was no game in our minds.  Many bucketfuls of sand from our sandboxes later, the frog was properly covered. That mound of sand that could have rivaled sacred Indian burial mounds. We stood around the grave site, solemnly holding stems of leaves, clover and honeysuckle so as to properly give the frog his final send off.  Just as we were beginning to place our offerings on the grave mound, I heard a yell that made me jump out of my skin. “Shannon Recole Wightman! Get out of that road and in this house NOW!”  Uh oh.  “Just wait till your father gets home!” Even worse. I searched my mind to attempt to figure out what I had done that was so wrong it would deserve the full name yell and the father threat, which filled me with dread as I hid in my room for the final hours until he arrived.
After what seemed like forever, my father opened the door to my room and sat down on my bed, belt in hand. “Do you understand why you're being punished?” he asked. “You're old enough to know better than to play in the middle of a street.”  I was playing?  No I was not. We were conducting a solemn ritual of death, not playing!  I my mind, I knew I was right and this punishment was grossly unfair.  As my father spanked me I began to cry, “But Daddy!  I didn't touch the dead animal!” He finished, hugged me with what I now know to be suppressed laughter that shook him, and walked out my bedroom door.
In the mind of a child, what is considered “playing”, and what is considered an important, solemn event tend to be very different than what constitutes these in the mind of a grown up. Many times when my children were young, I thought back to that episode in my own life in an effort to make the parallel lessons clear to them.  New lesson: if you can't dig a hole to place something in, it is not buried, therefore, do not conduct burials in the middle of a road, even though you may not have touched the dead frog.

~ The Girl In the Little Black Dress

Awareness

I've had complaints about my lack of blogs of late ... my apologies.  This going back to school thing is kicking my you-know-what!  Regardless, one of my classes is public speaking .. for which I have to write and deliver a number of different types of speeches (duh).  Below is the narrative of the persuasive Monroe's Format speech I'll be giving tomorrow for my final ..... would love your thoughts!

Raise your hand if you know someone with a mental illness.

Raise your hand if you know the causes of different forms of mental illness.

Raise your hand if you think it's easy to recognize someone with a serious mental illness.

Finally, raise your hand if you think the best way to handle people with mental illness is to keep them in hospitals or behind locked doors.

My friend “Sarah” has a teenage daughter. Her daughter was an intelligent creative rambunctious child, but as she has gotten into her pre-teen and teenage years, she has become headstrong, belligerent, violent in her outbursts and attitude towards her parents and authority figures, lies about everything, even things that she's obviously lying about, and has begun to have issues with shoplifting. Her parents have tried everything from rules and strictness to counseling and are constantly involved with her school on her behalf. Nothing has seemed to make a difference, and the problems simply escalate the older she becomes.

A girl I know became more and more worried about one of her best friends. “Gina”, who was known for her outgoing nature and friendliness to all, was pulling away from everyone, turning down social invitations that she would have joyfully joined in previously, was falling way behind in her grades, and missing school constantly. When gently asked what was wrong or if everything was okay, she denied there was an issue and would occasionally get defensive. She began wearing long sleeves at all times, baggier clothing and withdrawing more and more from everyone around her.

A woman I know has always seemed, from the outside looking in, to have it all together. Single mom, great kids, decent job, good friends, always putting everyone else before herself and somehow managing to appear sane. The side that no one ever saw was when she was alone, constantly near tears, self esteem so low that she didn't feel she deserved to reach out for help to anyone in any part of her life, and sometimes that even though she didn't have the guts for suicide, that she didn't deserve to have the wonderful people and things she had in life and that she definitely didn't deserve to live. She was always able to dress so no one really noticed her weight continuing to drop, until it was too late.

Mental illness is a stigma that affects someone that most of us know. It can be brought on by traumatic life events, imbalances in brain chemicals, discrepancies in early brain development, and even genetic predisposition. Unfortunately, there's generally an attitude of misunderstanding and avoidance whenever it's brought up or made public as a diagnosis. Children suffering from forms of mental illness are subjected to bullying by their peers, and misunderstanding by authority figures. Adults, can be judged as lazy or unreliable or unintelligent. All due to the lack of understanding and diagnosis of various common mental illnesses. But what if the education and understanding began at an early age? What if elementary, middle, and high schools all incorporated mental health education into their curriculum, and preventative staff such as trained social workers and guidance counselors were a normal funded part of school staff in every school? Would the problem be so misunderstood? Be less widespread? Be more easily diagnosed and the ramifications of undiagnosed mental illness be proactively avoided? Let's examine why mental health education and crisis prevention should be a funded, required component of elementary, middle, and high school education.

For the purposes of clarification, a mental illness is a disease that causes mild to severe disturbances in perception, thinking and behavior. Out of the five major categories of mental illness, the most commonly diagnosed are anxiety disorders, mood disorders, and eating disorders. Many of these co-occur, such as someone suffering from PTSD, an anxiety disorder, also suffering from bi-polar disorder, a mood disorder, or, someone suffering from Anorexia, an eating disorder, could also suffer from depression, a mood disorder, or OCD, an anxiety disorder. Undiagnosed and untreated, mental illness can become a major contributing factor to substance abuse behaviors, migraine headaches, and increased susceptibility to physical illnesses such as thyroid disease, diabetes, and heart disease later in life. According to the World Health Organization, about 11 percent of adolescents have a major depressive disorder by age 18, and it is the leading cause of disability among Americans age 15 to 44. Additionally, in 2009, suicide was the third leading cause of death among people age 15 to 24, with depression and other mental disorders being a major cause. In the case of my friend Sarah's daughter, the teen has endured years of teasing and bullying from peers for not grasping academic concepts at school, a major school disciplinary record, and, more recently, a juvenile record with the courts for her inability to control outbursts and actions. She became depressed and suicidal and felt the entire world was against her. As it turns out, Sarah's daughter suffers from bi-polar disorder. She is now receiving treatment, and recovering, but she will have much to overcome with self-esteem, academics, and social skills from the years of misunderstanding and lack of diagnosis. Gina, whom I previously mentioned, was fortunate enough to be at a smaller school that had a full time guidance counselor and social worker. Through intervention on their part it was discovered that she suffered from major depression and had begun cutting. They, along with Gina's parents, were able to get her the help she needed through counseling and medication. Five years later she is a successful college student with a positive outlook on life.

As with any form of illness, early diagnosis and treatment is key. The School Social Work Association of America recommends a ratio of one social worker to every 250 students, yet this is not the case in most schools in our nation. In Orange County, FL, the ratio is one to every 4,150 students. On average, social workers tend to be responsible for 4 to 8 schools each, which makes intensive interventions difficult. Winter Park, FL has developed a model by combining public and private dollars that allows for each of their 12 schools to have a full or part-time social worker, mental health counselor, or family therapist dedicated to their students. Already this school year 433 students have completed 12-week therapy sessions, which have taught coping skills instead of shutting down and turning inward in response to negative situations. In Ontario, Canada, a program developed called Beyond the Cuckoos Nest that utilizes speakers from the community who are recovering from various forms of mental illness in addition to classroom teaching, has been successfully implemented into secondary schools. It has not only raised empathy and awareness among students and teachers, but has created an environment where stigma is decreased to the point that assistance is more likely to be sought by students dealing with symptoms of mental illness of any kind. One teacher who participated in the program noted that “Several things come through loud and clear. Kids come back with tremendous empathy and understanding of what it must be like to be in the presenters’ shoes, which is a huge step. They also come back with respect for the battle that people with mental illness fight, and cognizant of the courage it takes to fight the battle.” This past month, the US Senate passed the Mental Health Awareness and Improvement Act, which reauthorizes and improves programs administered by both the Departments of Education and Health and Human Services related to awareness, prevention, and early identification of mental health conditions, and the promotion of linkages to appropriate services for children and youth. This is a great step in the right direction.

Many of us forget that the brain is an organ that is susceptible to disease or illness, just like any other. Just as cancer or diabetes can be treated with therapy and medication, so can mental illness. Unfortunately, due to media stereotypes of those with mental illness being violent, dangerous, comical, incompetent, or fundamentally different from everyone else, a stigma has arisen that is equally as damaging as any form of racism. The funding for mental health education and crisis prevention in schools so that diagnosis, empathy, and understanding happens at an early age is key in combatting this issue. The single mom that I previously mentioned at the beginning of this speech, is me. I began having symptoms of major depression and eating disorders at age 15, but was never diagnosed, was too ashamed due to my perception of what others would think to try to get help, additionally developed panic disorder and problems with alcohol abuse in an attempt to cope on my own, and ultimately worsened over 25 years to the point of malnutrition and almost full digestive system failure. I was hospitalized and ultimately got the help I needed to begin to begin full recovery. If early awareness and diagnosis had been available and occurred when I was a teenager, many of the physical problems that I will battle for the rest of my life could have been avoided. Mental illness is not a choice. It is a disease like any other. Think back to the questions I asked you at the beginning of this speech that you raised your hand to. Raise your hand if you would now answer any of them differently. I urge you to support the newly reinstated Mental Health & Awareness Act, support other upcoming initiatives such as the Excellence in Mental Health Act, and spend time learning and educating those around you about the warning signs of and available care for all forms of mental illness. I was lucky. Even though it took 25 years, I was diagnosed and began treatment before it killed me. Without awareness and crisis prevention, the next person may not be.

Daily Jumprope

"Life is like a box of chocolates"
Bullshit.  Life is more like trying to skip double jumprope.  Allow me to explain ....

This particular playground game requires a person on either end of the ropes, who must be able to turn the ropes in unison so that they essentially orbit each other while in motion.  The person, or persons, attempting to jump rope under such conditions must be able to gauge when to run into the center and jump as each rope circles under their feet and avoid hitting the top rope while jumping. Hmmm .... each position requires focus, control, cooperation, and a certain level of trust.  Otherwise, someone gets smacked in the head by a spinning rope ... or in the ankles ... or gets their arm torqued during rotation ..... lots of possible messed up scenarios that end in hurt feelings or injury.  But if everyone works together, if everyone utilizes a bit of focus and physically makes an effort, the game is successful and ultimately fun for all involved.  Sounds a lot like almost any situation in daily life to me!

Goal for each day: Jump, Spin, and Watch for Rogue Ropes  ;)

~ The Girl In The Little Black Dress

Positive Notes from the Rollercoaster

Sometimes things turn out better than they would originally seem.  Sometimes, even when you feel like the entire world is a sad, lost cause & that the best parts of your life are railing against you, occasionally, things turn themselves around via efforts that you didn't realize were noticed, and become absolutely fabulous.

I'm not going to go into specifics, but let's just say that the past 48 hours have been quite the rollercoaster ride.  But just like a rollercoaster, with drops that take your heart and breath away, paired with climbs to heights that are breathtakingly beautiful, eventually the ride slows down so you can catch your breath, look at the person in the seat beside you, & achieve the realization that the calmness after the adrenaline rush is an unequivocally beautiful thing.  Right now, I'm sitting beside a beautiful fire by candlelight, after an almost perfect day of friends, family, children, happy wishes and notes from so many I care about, and magical moments with someone incredibly important and dear to me.  Life may not be easy, or perfect every moment, but its ups and downs that sometimes resemble that death defying rollercoaster, do make the moments that are happy and wonderful and fulfilling so much more beyond words gratifingly phenomenal.  Even the tearful moments create a deep appreciation for the happy possibilities when they occur. 
Sometimes things turn out better than they would originally seem.  I don't think I would change one thing.  :)

Grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The Courage to change the things I can,
And the Wisdom to know the difference.

Happy Birthday to Me! :)
~ The Girl In The Little Black Dress

Warped Universe

From what I can see, the universe tends to have a pretty warped sense of humour. For example, I know someone who's income was sliced in half due to company accounting issues this month, and, of course, she ended up with a plumbing issue post-rainstorm that's going to cost around $1500 in addition to the child that got sick and ended up in the hospital last week, in addition to the $5K bill that showed up from her attorney. Warped.

Everyone has their own theory of the universe. Mine tends to be a mixture of many schools of thought, but I have a number of friends to whom Christianity makes the most sense & keeps them feeling grounded. I also have friends that follow Buddhism, and some who lean more toward Wicca and/or the earth-based religions. Regardless of what higher power or earth force anyone subscribes to, I do find that we are all of the same mind in this. Everyone would pretty much agree that most things happen for a reason .... there's even the old adage of "you'll never be given more in this life than you can handle". Bullshit. While you may realize that you can handle it later, and even further down the road, laugh about it, there does come a point when the amount of things hitting you at once that you have zero control over will make you want to sit holding your knees in a dark corner while rocking back and forth and singing nursery rhymes. I don't care how old you are or how strong you normally are. It happens.

Now, doesn't that just make you wonder if somewhere out there in the cosmos there's some sarcastic smart-ass albeit sometimes benevolent Overlord swirling their hands around saying "Heeheeheehee .. THIS will keep me from being bored! Let's see what happens!"

~ The Girl In The Little Black Dress