Thanking the Whole Person (and a medical SLP freebie)

Whenever I wipe poop off a bottom (or a toilet, or a wall), I make a mental note to say something extra positive to our nurses and sanitation staff.  Sometimes it takes a big mess to draw my attention to the ones who do the most thankless tasks.

Well, we’re in a big mess right now, and our attention is drawn.  

The Paradox of Pascha during Quarantine (formatting is fixed now I hope)

It seems like Pascha (Easter) has come too soon. Near-empty churches are decked in white; we sing that God has trampled death.  But the death toll is still great, and we continue to make sacrifices to protect the vulnerable.

So what happens when the Paschal season begins in the middle of the world’s suffering? What happens when Easter is celebrated at home, without the physical sacrament of Communion or the comfort of family members’ hugs? What happens when Easter is celebrated with a very calculated budget because of job loss? What happens when Easter is celebrated after the death of a loved one that cannot even be commemorated with a funeral? What happens when Easter is celebrated in a hospital room, grappling with new disabilities and unbearable pain, alone because visitors are not allowed?

Helping myself (and my patients) to grow: Treatment vs. Evaluation

I often set expectations for myself and fail to meet them:

~I want to wake up earlier.  But I continue to go to bed late.  

~I want to pray more.  But I fill my life with more and more distractions.

Of course I am not making changes if all I ever do is “check in” with myself, evaluating and re-evaluating without providing solutions.  

This reflection is *not* about self-optimization.  It’s about growth and self-acceptance.  It's difficult to grow as a person without lots of reminders, or a structured organized foundation for change.  If I “fail” to change, there is no need to shame myself—that’s just a sign that something isn’t working yet. 

As usual, I need to learn from my patients.

True Love: a Valentine's Day reflection

I have seen in the movies and read in books that true love is about finding joy in each other, about holding hands and giving roses and writing love letters.  I have heard in wedding speeches and sermons that true love is about staying faithful even when it isn’t fun. 

I believe that both of these are true.

And I have seen second-hand that true love is often about wiping dirty bottoms, and spoon-feeding, and encouragement to try one more time, to get up for another day.  True love is about staying faithful even when someone’s personality changes after a brain injury or during the onset of dementia.

This Valentine’s Day, I am reflecting about what I have learned about true love from spouses who take on the role of caregivers—and spouses who take on the role of patient.  Neither role is chosen, but when embraced, both teach us about true love.

Being Intentional (with an SLP freebie)

Many patients are surprised that my cognitive therapy sessions don’t involve logic puzzles or crosswords.  With me, cognitive therapy looks a lot more like intentional planning for daily life.  Most of the time, the “strategies” I suggest to my patients are practical habits such as repeating new information to themselves, using reminders in their environment, or making sure to double- and triple-check their work.  “But I already do those things,” they protest.

“Of course,” I reply, “these are normal ways of learning and remembering.  But as your body and your brain are healing, you may find you have to be more intentional about doing things that once came naturally or automatically to you.”

Maybe the same is true for soul-healing.

Liking my patients, my loved ones, and myself

Some days, I just don’t like myself.  From the outside in, I notice plenty of flaws.  I have acne, my hair is a wild mess, my posture is slouchy, my attitude is grouchy, I’m impatient and rude and arrogant—and I make plenty of mistakes. 

So I remind myself that even if I’m not likeable now, I’ve got potential.  I’m just in the caterpillar stage.  Someday, I’ll be a beautiful, virtuous butterfly.  I should like myself for my potential…right?

That’s not what Mr. Rogers says.

Pruning my Garden: from Tolkien to Pinker and beyond

I sat with my cousin on the floor in the corner of the bookstore, poring over Elvish grammar and the rich world of Tolkien’s languages.  A seed was planted.  Over the next few years, I tended to my little metaphorical garden, writing in Tolkien’s alphabets and languages, learning Spanish, practicing my broken Portuguese, and adding broken German to the mix.

Unfortunately, some of the plants in my garden grew thorns.  My love of words and grammar turned me into the grammar police, trying to “correct” everyone’s sentences, even in my own family.  “Don’t end sentences in prepositions,” I would say, or, “Mark all your adjectives with an LY.”  I wanted everyone to speak Academic English, and I was frustrated by deviations from the rules of Strunk and White.

Then I encountered Steven Pinker.  My friend Sofija lent me The Language Instinct.  Pinker's work exposed my metaphorical garden for what it really was:  full of toxic weeds.

What determines your worth?

Society has attempted to answer this question in a variety of ways, defining a person’s worth by wealth, social class, language, skin color, education, intelligence, strength, bravery, wisdom, kindness….

Although such attributes can describe a person’s experience, descriptions do not define worth.

You are much more than your attributes and your experiences.

Rest and Oxygenation: Why we all need to stop and breathe

Sometimes I do too much for too long.  Constantly taking on more and more tasks, I pretend to be a Type A overachiever who has her life together and can do it all.  But on the inside, I’m gasping for breath, wondering when I will find relief from the hustle.

Have you ever felt like you were drowning?

Deep breaths are essential.  Without them, even the brain cannot function well.  Put simply, it runs out of oxygen.  Allow me to illustrate:

An apology

Dear readers,

Upon re-reading my post from yesterday I felt it was a little too chipper. I understand that my patients are going through some real suffering. Yes, there is real hope, but there is also a great deal of grief for many of my patients and their families; I did not emphasize this dichotomy enough in my original post. Yesterday afternoon I updated the post to be more sensitive to the pain that can be involved in changing circumstances. Please forgive me if I have caused you to feel invalidated or hurt. 

My mission is always to validate and build up others through my words—to create positive connections. Although I may err again, I pray that my words can be more thoughtful in the future. 

Sincerely,

Kiki

Moving Forward Without Looking Back: Neuroplasticity and Hope

“When will our lives be back to normal?”

This is probably the most common question I receive from patients and their families.  I usually dodge it:  Instead, I estimate the timeline for reaching the patient’s goals and establishing a daily communication (or eating/swallowing) routine.  Because honestly, what is “normal”?

This isn’t a pithy rhetorical question.  Does “normal” mean following an established pattern with the resources you have?  That can start during the recovery process, although there may be great suffering in it.  Does “normal” mean a predictable life with no obstacles?  I can confidently say that will never happen.  What was expected yesterday may not be expected today.  Yet this clinging, this preference for the past over the future, is common.  We long for the security of the known.

How can we shift our expectations to allow for the changes that are happening in our lives?  How do I, as a therapist, talk about moving forward with my patients—and with myself?

"What do you do?" Shifting our small talk

In the United States, our small talk is very direct.  After asking someone’s name and maybe where they are from, the next question is usually, “What do you do?”

In a culture that defines a person’s worth by their productivity, it can feel very vulnerable to say you don't have a 9-5 job.  This subject can feel especially raw for people with newly acquired disabilities that precipitated a career change or an early retirement.  

Even for the traditionally employed, this question can be daunting.  Brené Brown, who researches the human condition, wrote about this in her book The Gifts of Imperfection:  “Most of us have complicated answers to this question.  For example, I’m a mom, partner, researcher, writer, storyteller, sister, friend, daughter, and teacher.  All of these things make up who I am, so I never know how to answer that question” (page 114).  While the roles I fill are different than hers, I can still think of a long list of words to describe myself, most of which aren’t career related.

No matter our state of life, the question “What do you do?” can tempt us to oversimplify our self-worth.  To this predicament, I offer three solutions to help us begin to value ourselves differently.

The Power of Praise: Research-based ways to Encourage and Empower

Sometimes, I fail.  I don't finish my daily to-do list.  I overcook dinner.  My words fall flat, or worse, hurt someone’s feelings.  Too often, my response to myself is harsh:  I’m lazy, I am not a good cook, I’m a bad communicator.  My failures define me.

Conversely, when I succeed, I own a success as if it is a part of me.  I am a great planner, a gourmet cook, the next Madeleine L’Engle.

Praising and criticizing myself for my innate abilities can create the illusion that my successes and my failures define me and determine my worth.  That’s a lot of pressure!  Also, I am reinforcing the idea that my successes and failures are due to innate abilities, which are difficult to change. 

The good news is that our dignity is inherent, no matter how talented we are (or aren’t).  And we do have the power to try again if we want to.  So how can we use our words to remind ourselves—and others—that our successes and failures do not define us?  How can we use our words to encourage each other to keep trying even when things don’t work out the way we hope?

Stop Striving and Start Thriving (with feeding resources for families and SLPs)

Stop Striving and Start Thriving (with feeding resources for families and SLPs)

It’s easy to believe that if you provide the perfect care for your family, you can raise kids who never get sick, have genius IQs, perfect skin, perfect behavior, and amazing athletic abilities.  But is all of this optimization actually best for the children in our care?  I have seen too many parents in tears because they feel they are somehow failing to provide their children the “optimal” experience.  But what if what’s praised as “best” by society isn’t actually the best option for everyone?  What if by working so hard to meet a perceived societal standard, we are actually distracting ourselves from the ways we can thrive in our own unique situations?  And what if to thrive, we have to let go of control and allow ourselves to rely on tools, resources, and others’ helping hands?  

If you feel insufficient, it’s because we are all insufficient.  God doesn’t expect us to do everything on our own, or even to do everything an exact specific predetermined way.  He asks us to rely on His help, often offered through others, and sometimes using surprising resources.  And there are some decisions with neither a right nor a wrong answer.  What matters isn’t that your life looks optimal or perfect.  What matters is that you can find ways to thrive in whatever situation you are in.

To consider the many kinds of resources and choices God provides for us, let’s take a closer look at feeding kids. 

This is Who I Am: an interview with my friend Sydney

"This is Who I am and That's How it's Gonna Be”

An interview with my friend Sydney

My friend Sydney always has something helpful to say when I most need to hear it.  Sydney and I met as coworkers at a pediatric clinic.  The more time I spent with her, the more I learned about her courage and positivity.  Sydney is athletic, courageous, funny, and charming.  She is a great movie buddy—we love watching movies like Wonder Woman and Star Wars together.  Sydney is also very open about her experiences growing up with and living with an intellectual disability.  The other day, I invited her to share some tea and popcorn at my place so she could tell her story.

Finding freedom in a disability: Katherine Wolf

"I realized very clearly that happiness has nothing to do with the material things which surround us; it dwells in the very depths of the soul. One can be just as happy in a gloomy prison as in a palace." ~St. Therese of Lisieux, Story of a Soul

Sometimes I become frustrated when I find myself limited. I can't get enough things done during the day. I sleep for too long. I talk too much and can't get at what I'm trying to say. My weaknesses seem to bind me, to steal my happiness.

My instinct is to fight. I want to overcome my limitations. There I go, pulling chains behind me as if I could outrun them.

Communicating when it isn't easy

Communication is connection. For most of us, it's easy. A sideways glance. Hands on hips, feet tapping. A kiss on the cheek.

Sometimes, we use words. "Did you see that?" "Please take out the garbage." "I love you." Like magic, the words we conjure in our brains turn into sound waves, travel through the air, and become words summoned in the brain of another.  The written word is equally mysterious. Arbitrary shapes become stories, poems, proverbs. You are reading my words now, somewhere far from the tapping of my keyboard.

So what happens when there is an interruption to the brain? Imagine a blindfold, cotton in your ears, marbles in your mouth. Not so easy now.

Welcome

Hello, and welcome to a place where words nourish even more than bread and every day we do the best we can—even when that means making mistakes and falling flat on our faces.