jej-men-t-l

Judgmental: [jej-men-t-l] adjective: characterized by a tendency to judge harshly. My name is Dawn, and I am sometimes judgmental. I am powerless over this trait and have come to realize that there is a higher power who can restore my compassion. I will turn my life over to that power, admit that I am wrong and make amends etc etc. I am kidding...kind-of. I do judge people, I believe it is natural. There are so many times that I consciously tell myself, "Dawn, do not judge this person". At least not until I have gathered adequate evidence to support my judgment. :) There is a purpose to my rambling.

For all who read this blog...anyone other than my mom? I have an exercise to share. Imagine you are 25 years old (I know it's been a while mother) You grew up in a dysfunctional family, like many people do. Your dad was gone or drunk and your mom stayed in bed much of the time. Somehow you made it through high school and went to college. You moved across the country to do better for yourself and got a job. Not a great job, but a steady Ok paying job. You lose contact with your family back home. Your mom calls but she burdens you with her problems. You begin to notice a decrease in your energy and you realize that you have called in to work over 5 times last year. You get a written warning about your attendance. Your friends aren't calling much and it occurs to you that you have been pretty flaky about spending time with them. It must have been at least a month since you last attended a happy hour...no wait! It's been 3 months and 2 weeks since you last went to happy hour. You remember the exact night, because you left early, you were tired and frankly you just wanted to be home. Alone. Time passes, your apartment is disorganized with a curious odor. You've lost weight. Your reflection is not you, rather it is a diminutive version of you clothed in crumpled pieces of fabric with a despondent expression worn across your sallow face. You don't go to work that day. Or the next or the next. You actually do nothing. Until, with one final iota of hope you call your old friend for help. She doesn't answer. You compile a collection of every pill you can find in your now dilapidated apartment, grab a bottle of wine, and swallow swallow swallow.

You momentarily gain awareness and hear the laughing, mocking voices of who you believe to be the ambulance crew. You are restrained. It doesn't matter. You have no desire to move. You drift away again...until you are being stripped naked by at least 4 or 5 different people. They are kind of rough and laughing. In the distance you hear somebody say in a disgusted voice "We have another psych in 216." Somebody else "Too bad they didn't succeed" "Should've done a better job" "Probably another druggie" Your tears begin to cascade down your pale, slightly emaciated face. Then you realize everyone can see you. You realize that you are being displayed in the middle of a busy nursing zone hallway, wearing only a gown and with your new security buddy at your side. Then you hear..."I'm with psychiatry, why are you in the ER?"

Judgment. My patients are always being judged. They are seen as less than deserving of care in the health care arena. The are relegated to hallways and denied their dignity. It must be their faults for getting so "messed up". "If only they wanted to get better". I fight constantly for just a morsel of respect from staff. And I am met with resistance as if my patients have no right receiving health care. I am challenged by people who think it is perfectly acceptable for me to ask a person extremely personal questions in the hallway, because "psych patients aren't really sick and rooms are only for sick people". They are frequently disregarded as "just psych". They are ignored for hours. I recently found a patient who had been in the ER for over 15 hours waiting for me to clear him/her. I walked in and saw a critically ill person, frothing at the mouth. Hello! Somebody pay attention to this! This "psych" patient went to ICU.

They are judged every day of their lives. Judged by people who have no idea what their life story is. Judged by people who might also be just shy of an all-consuming mental illness that will wreak havoc in their lives. So, yes I judge too, but I make a concerted effort every day to hold my judgment, at least until I can gather the facts. Even then, I remind myself that a mentally healthy person does not self harm for attention. Not all drug addicts come from bad families. Not all felons are dangerous. Mostly, I try to remember that most people deserve respectful care when in the hospital. I said most, not all, because there are some people that really are just bad people and have provided me with enough evidence to justify judgment!

Lastly, to anyone out there who is quick to judge the mentally ill, remember the average age of onset for severe mental illness (bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, major depressive disorder etc.) is up to age 35. And major depressive disorder spikes again later in life. You never know when it might be you lying in that hallway.

Okayyyy????

I was in the grocery store today and was hit in the calf by a cart. A young sounding voice said, "I'm sorry hun". I turned around and saw a very young, probably teen, mom standing there with her young son. In my head I thought, "Why is this really young girl calling me hun?" It did not seem appropriate since I was clearly her elder. Then, I thought about how patients must feel to constantly be called hun, sweetie, sweetheart, hunny, etc. by nurses who are often much younger. Okayyyy hun? Do you see what I am saying? Nurses are taught NOT to be paternalistic. They are taught to value their patients' autonomy, but it is not long after graduation where "I need you to take your medication sweetheart, Okayyyyy?" is ingrained in their daily dialogue. If I am ever a patient and my 22 year-old nurse calls me hun, I will likely bite her, and pretend I am delirious!

Changes

My little brother is gone. Ok, that sounds very dramatic. He's actually in Baltimore, where he has relocated for a job. I didn't think I would miss him...that much. And, I don't even miss him yet; He's only been gone a day. But, I am sad, more than I thought I would be. It seems like the first step in the scattering of my family, that I always knew would occur. Except, I always thought I would be the one to leave. Instead, it is my baby brother and his wife, who I adore. And, it seems so far...the other side of the country. 4 1/2 hours by plane plus the 2 or 3 hour time difference (depending on the time of year). Not the easiest weekend jaunt. It's actually the same distance in hours as it is to my parents' place in Alpine, and I know how hard it is to do a weekend trip up there even with no time change. I think more than anything, I realize that I have taken the close vicinity of my family for granted. My siblings and I have lived within 5 miles of each other for years, and I rarely saw them outside of holiday functions. And now it is too late and that makes me sad. Dan and Gio are also trying to get out of Phoenix, as far as I know anyway. They have been tossing around the idea of leaving the country. What happened to the days when families stayed near each other? Even with minimal face to face visits it is nice to know my entire family is a short drive away. I'm grieving the loss of that...it hurts more than I imagined.

Slow Moving Nudity and Lettuce

I have many reoccurring dreams. Frequently, I dream that I am suddenly naked and can only move in slow motion despite an enormous amount of effort. Of course I have Googled the secret meaning of my dreams and this is the message being sent to me via the unique electroencephalogram changes indicative of sleep: I am feeling powerless, frustrated, and anxious. My life is so hard that I am practically immobilized by stress. I am suddenly naked because I feel vulnerable and shameful. It is likely that I am also afraid of being discovered for what I really am. I am afraid of judgment and ridicule. Fortunately, in my dreams nobody seems to notice or care that I am naked, so according to my Google search, my fears of vulnerability and exposure are unfounded. Thank God!

A more recent reoccurring dream involves me chewing on lettuce. I was shocked to find "lettuce" in the dream dictionary. Apparently, I am either lacking in spiritual nourishment or real "vitamin type" nourishment. Or, it could mean that I am seeking the approval of someone...The fact that I am chewing means I am sorting things out (I could have guessed that). I wish this dream would stop, because my jaw hurts in the morning and my mouth guard has a hole!

I have my own ideas regarding my reoccurring dreams. I am naked and moving slowly because, yes I am afraid of judgment. I am afraid of criticism and imperfection. I'm not sure about the whole idea that I am afraid my true self will be identified. Although, Hez might think differently :) I suppose I'm not good at deep verbal expression, I hold things in, I toss ideas around in my head for a ridiculous amount of time. Hey! Maybe that is why I am chewing on lettuce? But, I don't think I am harboring a strongly rooted alter ego. An even more simple explanation for my nudity in dreams is that I find clothes confining, yet I am less than thrilled with the idea of my body being exposed. Why can't I move as I am standing naked in my dreams? Masochistic punishment? Or maybe, I should use it as motivation to sculpt my body so that I am not ashamed. Bring it on Bodyrock.tv!