why grown men cry

When is the last time you saw a grown man cry? Openly. Uncontrollably. In public.

It doesn't happen often in our culture. Whether because of conditioning, shame, bravado, or denial, it seems men tend to keep the portal to their feelings under lock and key. And thank goodness for that. Thank goodness they have learned to stay strong when we need them to steady us and hold us up. When we might otherwise be swept away by our own fears, our own sorrows. Thank goodness someone is able to take over for us when we just can't. 

Don't let them fool you, though. 

"Every man has his secret sorrows

which the world knows not;

and often times we call a man cold

when he is only sad."

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow~

I see this again and again at the writing conferences I attend, a handful of men who are bleeding out with sorrow, shame, remorse, or anger...a wound that has never been cleansed. A wound that has festered untended all their lives until the day, in a writing group, they are invited to take the bandage off and look at it. To see how deep it has gotten. To realize how much it still hurts. When they are ready, they will tell you how it happened. Who did it. And you will see grown men cry.

"You'd be surprised

what lengths people will go to 

not to face

what is real and painful inside them."

~from HPLYRIKZ.com~ 

Often the wound reflects the vicissitudes of ordinary life...rejection, grief, failure, loss. But prepare yourself for this: in many cases these wounds were inflicted by their fathers. During their drunken rages. By their criticism, mockery, and shaming. By their absence. Because their expectations were impossible for a little boy to understand, much less aspire to. Generation after generation after generation.

"If you never heal from what hurt you

then you'll bleed on people

who did not cut you."

~from NotSalmon.com~

This is why grown men cry. When they first awaken to the lineage of wounded boys-turned-men they are part of. When it occurs to them that they might have passed this on to their own boys. This is the story they must tell. This is a wound they must heal.

Which is why it disappoints me that so few men join our writing circles. None were present last week at the Narrative Healing conference I attended. Three men attended the storytelling workshop I went to in June. One of them broke down in tears on the first day and wept openly all week long as his story unfolded. 

Boys don't cry, but men do."

~Malorie Blackman~

Tearfulness is both medicine and art. Don't be ashamed if you weep. It is the way you edit your story. The way you rewrite the ending. The way you close the wound. 

Are you nursing a painful memory or experience? Don't let it fester untended. Show it to us. Tell us where it hurts. We can help.

"Tears are words

that need to be written."

~Paulo Coelho~

jan

 

the cure for sagging spirits

 

This week I'm back at Omega Institute for Holistic studies for the annual Narrative Healing Conference. I was just here last month for a storytelling conference, but that was an impulsive and light-hearted indulgence. This is different. We won't be learning about setting, or plot points, or character development this week. We won't be debating the finer points of grammar, punctuation, or sentence structure. Nor will we be discussing the publishing industry, marketing, or self-promotion. No, this is a deeply reflective, empowering, and grounding experience that is designed to animate creative expression and bolster the sagging spirits of kindred souls--healthcare providers and people with an illness narrative they need to share with the world.

"The healing that can grow

out of the simple act of telling our stories

is often quite remarkable."

~Susan Wittig Albert~

Wait a minute. Did I say sagging spirits?

Yes, I think I did. It happens to all of us from time to time. It’s the price we pay for loving others, for caring about them, and for dreaming about an uncertain future. It’s the burden of disappointment, frustration, and rejection that drags us down. Sometimes we just need a little “pick-me-up,” or a little something to “settle-me-down.” Or both.  Something to motivate or inspire us. Affirmation. Acceptance. Encouragement.

Because of the pandemic, it has been a while since I've indulged myself this way. Luckily, I haven’t felt the need to be encouraged or energized about writing. That’s how I feel every time I sit down to work. I can’t wait to get started in the morning, and I tend to have two or three projects in mind at all times. Writing, it seems, is the easy part; life—not so much.

In  just the past few weeks, I learned that a friend is losing her courageous battle against pancreatic cancer. Another one just found out that the unusual symptoms he has been trying to ignore for a while are the result of ALS. My son is looking at knee surgery--AGAIN! Another friend was admitted to ICU last week with blood clots in his leg and bilateral pulmonary emboli. He's in ICU, and he has no health insurance. Two people I know are looking ahead to open heart surgery because of aortic valve problems.

"If your friend is sick and dying,

the most important thing he wants is

not an explanation.

He wants you to sit with him."

~Lee Strobel~

My heart aches at the cold hard truth of suffering, especially when physical pain is aggravated by fear, grief, anger, guilt, shame, or denial...which is often the case. As healers we can't hide behind our computer screens, and pretend that psychological, emotional, and spiritual suffering aren't part of the problem, simply because they're not part of the EMR. Our comforting words, a simple touch, and the time we spend at the bedside remain life-sustaining balms even when healing is not likely. 

"We're all just walking each other home."

~Ram Dass~

 

That may sound easy enough, but it isn't easy at all. Bearing a loved one's suffering can be harder than shouldering your own. It can leave you  feeling frustrated. Helpless. Uncertain. Spent. And this is why spirits sag...

...which is why I’m at my favorite place this week. To restore what is depleted. To gather courage. To reflect on the process of healing in all its guises. To prepare myself for what I fear lies ahead for people I love. To support them in any way I can.

What do you do to revive your withering spirits? Where do you turn for help? What are you waiting for?

“Good writing is not about good grammar.

Good writing is about truth.”

~Nancy Slonim Aronie~

jan

what was your question?

It has been said, 

"We touch heaven when we lay

our hand on a human body."

~Novalis~

As healthcare providers, this reminds us there is something spiritual about the study and practice of medicine. Something sacred that has been sacrificed in favor of pride, power, and profit among our corporate taskmasters. After all, we invoked all the gods and goddesses as witnesses when we took the oath that sealed our commitment to healing.

The Hippocratic Oath

We pledged:

"I will comport myself

and use my knowledge in a godly manner."

The ethical, moral, and humane practice of medicine is our sacred duty. As Stephen Cope puts it:

"Sacred duty is the thing that,

if you don't do it,

you will feel a profound sense

of self betrayal."

~Stephen Cope~

I was reflecting on this recently in view of the unrelenting onslaught of cruelty, injustice, hatred, and suffering that are all around us. War. Gun violence. Racism. Human rights violations. A still smoldering pandemic. Climate change. The anger and sorrow we bear. How hopeless things appear. How helpless we sometimes feel...at work, at home, in our communities, and in the world at large.

And then the answer appeared. A vision for healing.

If you do not read anything else in your lifetime, hop online right this minute, and order this book:

You don't have to read the whole book, unless, of course, you're interested in somatic psychotherapies, grounding vs. transcendence, and the nature and practice of embodiment. But if you're interested in how to survive in this world, just read the last chapter, "Call to Action!"  

"Your sacred purpose maybe be subtle and calm...

or it may be the fiery path of the activist."

"We need you to endeavor to make

our medical system more heartfelt and wholistic."

"We need awakening men to rise up defiantly

and stand down those men still locked inside patriarchal 

and sexist ways of being."

"Don't be fooled by the shopping mall, 

the suburban malaise,

or the numbing addiction 

to our phones, screens, and virtual realities."

"It's one thing to pray, meditate, dream, and visualize

the sacred possibilities for our planet;

it's quite another to ground our expansive intentions

in lived action."

"It should not be women's work, alone,

to shift patriarchal paradigms--

men must boldly rally for their female counterparts."

As healthcare providers--doctors, nurses, nurse practitioners and physician assistants, EMTs and first responders, and therapists in every field--we are called to live out our sacred calling every day. Indeed, as human beings we are all compelled to seek the truth, and to defend our right to live according to what we learn. In this book, Jeff Brown encourages us to confront our sacred purpose consciously. He teaches us to overcome the obstacles that prevent us from discerning our unique calling in life and to live according to our own deep truth.

He suggests we ask ourselves:

What are you here to learn?

What are you here to overcome?

What are you here to offer?

What does your authentic face look like?

Who are you beyond the inner static of inauthentic voices?

jan

 

how to close an open wound

 

 

Numerous studies have documented the positive effect of writing--aka, storytelling--on both psychological and physical healing. Studies that look at the physiological correlates of writing demonstrate improvement in parameters such as blood pressure, heart rate, sleep patterns, and the levels of stress hormones such as cortisol in patients who are encouraged to write deeply about their thoughts and feelings. Surveys of subjective measures including quality of life assessments, cognitive functioning, and relaxation also emphasize the benefits of writing as a healing practice.

"Writing is medicine.

It is an appropriate antidote

to injury."

~Julia Cameron

Several studies actually demonstrate that writing promotes physical healing, such as wound closure. In one such study, half of the participants were assigned to write daily about a deeply traumatizing event in their lives including their thoughts and feelings about it. The other half was assigned to write about their plans for the next day but not their thoughts or feelings about them. Then, small biopsies of the skin were taken, leaving a tiny open wound. The group who wrote deeply about a traumatizing event healed more quickly than the group that wrote about a neutral topic.

"As the number of studies increased, 

it became clear that writing 

was a far more powerful tool for healing

than anyone had ever imagined."

~James W. Pennebaker~ 



Imagine a new drug or procedure that could make that same claim. Clinicians would jump at the opportunity to offer it to their patients.

 

So...why not storytelling?

 

"While you're working on your book,

your book is working on you."

~Nancy Erickson~

jan



the awful truth about illegal abortion

 

I was a third year medical student in 1973 when the Supreme Court of the United States legalized abortion by declaring it a constitutionally protected right that applied to all women. As a health care provider, this came as a huge relief to me because it guaranteed women access to a safe procedure performed by a trained specialist under sterile conditions, unlike the illegal abortions that were performed in back rooms and basements by frauds and quacks with no training...or worse, by desperate women themselves, with contaminated instruments, dangerous chemicals, and deadly manipulations. 

For those of you who don't remember, or who choose to ignore or to deny the brutality of illegal abortions, let me remind you how they were accomplished before Roe V. Wade. By pushing a straightened clothes hanger through the closed cervix and penetrating the amniotic membrane...without anesthesia. By drinking lye. By injecting air around the amniotic sac to separate it from the uterine wall...

...which is why women died from overwhelming infections (sepsis). From air and amniotic fluid embolism. From hemorrhage. From suicide.

Here are some of their stories.

There is little doubt in my mind that some women will be forced again to resort to these horrifying measures now that they no longer have access to safe, sterile abortions. There is no question that many will die...and with them, the fetuses who were supposed to have been saved by the overturning of Roe v. Wade.

And here, compliments of Amie Lynne Jordan who posted this on Facebook, are a few stories about women who will now be forced to carry their unintended, or non-viable, or life-threatening pregnancies to term:

• Becky who found out at her 20-week anatomy scan that the infant she had been so excited to bring into this world had developed without life sustaining organs.
• Susan who was sexually assaulted on her way home from work, only to come to the horrific realization that her assailant planted his seed in her when she got a positive pregnancy test result a month later.
• Theresa who hemorrhaged due to a placental abruption, causing her parents, spouse, and children to have to make the impossible decision on whether to save her or her unborn child.
• Vanessa who went into her confirmation appointment after YEARS of trying to conceive only to hear silence where there should be a heartbeat.
• Courtney who just found out she's already 13 weeks along, but the egg never made it out of her fallopian tube so either she terminates the pregnancy or risks dying from internal bleeding.

Regardless of your religious, moral, or ethical stand on abortion rights, you may want to consider the cruel consequences of illegal abortion before you strip women of their right to a safe medical procedure. You should at least try to imagine the psychological and emotional toll it will take on victims of rape and incest to be forced to carry their pregnancies to term. You should ask yourself what will become of these unwanted children. Who will care for them? How will they survive? You should weigh in on decisions that put a pregnant woman's life in danger. You should think long and hard about what it must feel like to carry a dead baby inside of you until it is expelled spontaneously, or "evacuated." You should understand that carrying a dead fetus puts the mother at risk of infection, hemorrhage, and coagulation disorders that can be fatal.

With the overturning of Roe v. Wade, five of our esteemed Supreme Court judges will, I fear, have blood on their hands. Before they deny women their reproductive rights, perhaps they should be working to codify a foolproof plan to absolutely end incest and rape in the first place. Good luck with that. 

It doesn't seem fair for men to retain the right to violate women, while women lose the right to protect, and indeed, to save themselves. 

~No means no...~

...in so many ways.

jan

the importance of authenticity and vulnerability in storytelling

I spent last week at Omega Institute for Holistic Studies in Rhinebeck, NY, at a storytelling workshop with this man, Chris Wells.

https://mrchriswells.com/

"Chris Wells is an Obie award-winning writer, actor and community leader who creates live events, music, and stories. He is the founding artistic director of The Secret City, a nonprofit community arts organization in New York City founded on the principals of creative mindfulness. Chris serves as curator, lead artist, and producer of The Secret City's dynamic live performances in NYC, Los Angeles, and Woodstock. His theatrical work has been honored with two LA Weekly Awards for Best Actor, a shared Garland award for playwriting, and many Ovation awards for participating in ensemble-created work. In 2010, Wells received a special citation Obie Award for service to the NYC artistic community. Through his storytelling workshops, Chris serves not just as a coach but as a creative midwife who helps writers get to the core of their project. His Writing Life process is designed to explore a person's work and their ideas through a series of conversations, investigations, exercises, and homework, while getting them to make huge strides on the project at hand."

...not to mention that he is a patient and supportive human being with a great sense of humor.

This workshop unfolded like many I've attended.

On Monday, each of us arrived sporting the face we like to put forward among strangers. For some, exuberant self-confidence. For others, timid uncertainty. For a few, tentative curiosity. The first time we gathered, we sized each other up based on nothing more telling than what we were wearing, or which seat we took, or how we introduced ourselves...all of which would change as the week wore on, as we worked on our stories, mined them for truth, and prepared to tell them in front of an audience. Three difficult tasks. 

On Tuesday, tears fell for the first time. We learned what it meant to be authentic. How it felt to be vulnerable. How hard it is to tell the truth.

"All you have to do is write one true sentence.

Write the truest sentence that you know."

~Ernest Hemingway~

On Wednesday, it finally dawned on us that we were safe among these people. That our stories, with all their missteps, all their pauses and rough spots, all the pain, and anger, and shame they revealed were received with mercy. With support. And, often, with applause.

On Thursday, we polished our stories, and practiced telling them. A sense of insecurity and dread crept up on some of us. But this is the thing about storytelling: it frees us. It heals us. It connects us with people we scarcely know, in ways we can't imagine...

...which is why, on Friday, each of our stories was received in silence, with rapt attention, followed by enthusiastic applause. 

I spend a lot of time encouraging people I know to tell the stories they hold tight in their hearts. To write them down, or get them onto a canvas, or put them into movement or song. As a physician, I do this because I know that storytelling is a healing practice. Why is this important? In the words of poet Sean Thomas Dougherty:

"Because right now

there is someone out there 

with a wound in the exact shape of your words."

~Sean Thomas Dougherty~

People need to know they're not alone. They need to know how you survived. That there is hope. That their story is important, too.

We hesitate to begin out of fear. We tell ourselves we don't write well enough. We don't know where or how to get started. We are sure no one could possibly be interested in what happened to us, so we make up excuses. I don't have time to write. My grammar and spelling stink. People will never believe me.

Sometimes, shame silences us. We have been conditioned to keep secrets. We blame ourselves for what happened to us. Or perhaps we're still struggling with the issue. It's too painful, or sad, or maddening to put into words.

If you're having trouble getting started with your story, if you have no confidence in your ability to tell it, or you have no time or energy to devote to one more thing...welcome to the club! This is where we all started.

The important thing is to get started, and then:

"Fill your paper 

with the breathings of your heart."

~William Wordsworth~

jan

what good is a story without a teller

 

 

What good is a story without someone to tell it? A story without someone to hear it?

True story:

A few years back, a young man in our community was involved in a terrible automobile accident. Prior to that day, he had a reputation as the high school jock, athletic and good looking. He was described as cool and cocky. He was well-liked, if sometimes irresponsible.

The accident left him in a coma for weeks. His doctors gave his family no hope for recovery based on the appearance of his scans. Nevertheless, his parents insisted upon continuing life support. He went from the intensive care unit to acute care to rehab over a period of six weeks or so with no improvement.

Then one day he opened his eyes. He started responding to simple commands. He was able to recognize the people at his bedside. Long story short, he went on to make a full recovery with the exception of a few subtle cognitive deficits. He came out of the experience a humble, caring young man with no recollection of the weeks he spent unconscious.

During his entire hospitalization, the boy’s mother kept a daily journal. It helped her remember what the doctors told her from day to day so she could process it when she had a few moments to herself.

  "Write what should not be forgotten..."

~Isabel Allende~

She kept track of who visited her son, how kind and concerned they were, how heartbroken they felt. She recorded everything the doctors and nurses who cared for him said and did, and she recorded her own thoughts and feelings about her son’s condition.

The point is that without his mother’s journals, this entire period in his life would have been lost to him. He had no memory of it. It helped him immensely to read his mother's journals in order to make sense of what had happened to him and what a miracle his recovery represented. They reconnected him with his friends when he read about their bedside visits. He came to understand how close to death he’d come.

"I do not sit down at my desk

to put into verse something that is already

clear in my mind.

If it were clear in my mind, 

I should have no incentive or need

to write about it.

We do not write in order to be understood;

we write in order to understand."

~C.S. Lewis~

His mother's journals weren't lovely flowered books filled with beautiful prose. They were honest and raw and desperate. They recorded reality for her son and filled in the blanks for him.

She wrote them at a time when she never imagined her son would be able to read them for himself. That chapter in his life would have remained, forever, a story without a reader…and, except for his mother's journals, it would have remained a story without a writer.

PS: It will remain a matter of faith vs speculation as to whether a bedside visit from the boy's beloved dog had any effect on his recovery…but he first opened his eyes three days later.

"DOG is GOD spelled backward."

~Duane Chapman~

jan