I've always been a big reader, though the world of COVID has moved me more toward fiction than nonfiction because of the stress release it offers. I've also started listening to audiobooks while I sew, and that helped me polish off 67 books last year. I read in a variety of areas, but I especially enjoy fantasy, murder/mystery, and historical fiction. These are some of my favorite books from 2022. Trying to name my favorite of the year is impossible, but if you want the books I've recommended to the most people, they are Matrix, Hacienda, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, The Vanishing Half, The Gilded Ones, Honor, The Last Karankawas, and The Hero of This Book. So most of them. :) 

Murder/Mystery:
Before She Was Found by Heather Gudenkauf
Now Is Not the Time to Panic by Kevin Wilson
The Book of Cold Cases by Simone St. James (This also ventures into supernatural.)
​The Overnight Guest by Heather Gudenkauf
A Madness of Sunshine by Nalini Singh
The Maid by Nita Prose 
The Hacienda by Isabel Cañas (This is also supernatural and historical fiction.)

Fantasy:
The Book Eaters by Sunyi Dean (feminist topics)
The Gilded Ones and its sequel The Merciless Ones by Namina Forna 
The Midnight Library by Matt Haig
The primary four books of The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater

Historical Fiction:
The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek by Kim Michele Richardson (but not so much its sequel)
Matrix by Lauren Groff 
The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab (This also is supernatural.)
The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett

Romance:
Instructions for Dancing by Nicola Yoon 

Memoir:
Somebody's Daughter by Ashley Ford 

Fiction:
The Last Karankawas by Kimberly Garza 
The Hero of This Book by Elizabeth McCracken 
Honor by by Thrity Umrigar 

©2023 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

A few weeks ago, I went to an appointment with a new pain specialist. The appointment, from start to finish, was a royal disaster. The receptionist was rude, the nurse who checked me in and took my vitals was demeaning, and the doctor spent three total minutes with me before telling me that he refused to accept me as a pain patient because… wait for it… I have chronic pain. You can’t make things like that up. As I left the office, I was devastated by how things had gone. I felt as though the world was rejecting me.

I had some time before my next appointment, so I decided to do some self-care by walking a labyrinth. The Westlake United Methodist Church was on my path to my next appointment, so I stopped there. It’s a labyrinth I’d walked several years previously, and I knew it was by the entrance and parking so I wouldn’t have to walk too far on a day when my pain levels were high (and rising due to stress).

When I got to the parking lot, I was greeted by a surprise that I didn’t remember being there the previous time I’d visited. In addition to the legally required disabled parking spots, there were also a large number of parking spots labeled “For The Less Mobile RESERVED.” I almost cried. While I have a disabled parking permit, there are often not enough disabled spots at large event venues. I’m guessing this church has an aging population that knows they need more disabled parking available. They also probably recognize that not everyone with limited mobility has a disabled parking permit. When I was eight months pregnant with twins, my mobility was very limited but I was not legally disabled at that point nor did I have a disabled parking permit. I definitely would have been grateful for a closer parking spot, though!

Since I was there on a weekday morning, the parking lot at Westlake UMC was almost completely empty, and I had my choice of parking spots. However, knowing that this church recognizes those with disabilities and physical limitations and not only accepts them but makes them feel welcome was incredibly powerful. I had just come from a medical office which shunned me for having the very medical condition they treat, yet this church welcomed me with open arms before I had even gone through the doors. The wording on the signs in their lot is compassionate and accepting to all those who might need a little extra assistance in the form of closer parking. If I were looking for a church, this is the type of thing that would let me know that my presence was very much wanted in their community.
​
©2017 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

Like many in this nation, I’ve been using denial as a coping technique over the past two months. I’ve been trying to believe that somehow, miraculously, the shift in power we were dreading would not happen. I was hoping that it was all a bad dream or a horrible joke. It’s not, though. Our lives are about to change drastically.

The night of the election in November 2016, my 16 year old daughter came downstairs to the family room at about 10 pm from doing homework. Her twin and I were watching the returns come in with dismay. She had just received a text from her boyfriend about the ominous news. Her only words were, “Tell me it’s not true.” I had to tell her it was. She then asked, “Can we move to Canada?” Given that we have family there, it’s not too outrageous of a request.

My daughter’s reaction left me thinking. Her boyfriend is a darker skinned racial minority whose parents were immigrants to the US. Her best friend is transgender. Her mother is disabled. She is almost a woman. Her world is going to be drastically impacted by the changes that result from the election.

My life is also going to be impacted as well; the obvious is that I am a woman and I am disabled. Both of those groups have been declared targets of hatred in the new era, and I personally have already experienced it. I fully expect large parts of the Americans with Disabilities Act to be repealed because the ADA costs money to businesses in order to make them fully accessible, and in the new order, corporate money is far more important than those with disabilities.

There are other places where the new dawn is going to impact me. Without the Affordable Care Act, I am no longer insurable due to the past 14 years of health issues. I face insurance companies refusing to cover my medical bills because of my pre-existing conditions. Healthcare is going to be the most obvious place where I will feel the change.

Other places are less obvious at first glance, but they are real threats. I have never had an abortion in this life, and I hope I never have to. However, Roe v. Wade has ensured that abortion has always been an option in my lifetime. Now I am at a point in my life where I would have to terminate any pregnancy I might unintentionally conceive because of health issues, yet I expect Roe v. Wade to either be eliminated or heavily restricted in the coming year. If that is the case, I will have to limit my sexual partners to men who have had vasectomies or are otherwise sterile. I’m a little more than angry about (primarily older white men) deciding whom I can have sex with.

There are bigger fears, too. I spent the first part of my life living with a narcissist, and having a narcissistic man who uses gaslighting as one of his primary methods of communication in national power is triggering for me and for many others. Watching someone so ill-qualified and so mentally ill about to assume command of so many life-or-death decisions is truly terrifying, especially if one knows how fickle and dangerous narcissists can be.

I’ve spoken with my spirit guides, and they have assured me that the new Narcissist in Chief will not be pushing the big red button. However, they have also affirmed my fears that we are facing an ugly uphill battle in the near future. As a friend of mine phrased it, we are facing at a decision where we as a nation have to decide if we will be governed by fear or governed by love. As things stand now, we are heading toward being a nation governed by fear.

I choose not to live my life in that way, though. For me, the first question to any decision is always “What is the healthy decision?” That question is always accompanied by other similar supporting questions: “What will bring the most love into my life and the world?” “What will bring the most compassion to me, to others, and to humanity?” “What is the right thing to do even if it is the hardest?” I will continue to strive to hold those values dear even when the world around me is leaning in the opposite direction.

So for me, January 20th, 2017 is a day of mourning. I’m dressing in black, the traditional color of mourning in our culture. I’m letting myself grieve as hard as I need to, but I also am holding my heart in a place of love rather than a place of fear. While I can’t change the national or the global situation, I can keep working to enact change around me, helping those who aren’t accepted by others. I can keep working to get compassion enacted in our society on personal and legal levels.

The final words from “Memories” from the musical Cats have been echoing my head all day, prompting me to write this post. We are facing the new day, the new dawn, but we must hold tight to the memories that bring us hope and love.

Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life 
And I mustn't give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory, too
And a new day will begin
​
©2017 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(Apologies in advance for an insanely long blog post. ~Elizabeth)
 
I am a huge Josh Groban fan. I’ve loved his music since I first saw one of his earliest PBS specials. When I came out of my years of silence, his was some of the first music I found myself able to tolerate. On the nights when I was going through horrible intestinal pain that would last for untold hours on end but my now ex-husband was unwilling to be there to hold my hand and support me through that hell, it was the music of Josh Groban (and others) that I played on repeat all night long to keep myself as calm and relaxed as possible. His albums are still my default when I am dealing with pain that medication and meditation cannot control.
 
I have been battling health issues for 13 years; I was all but bedbound for two of those years and homebound for six. Slowly I have been fighting my way back to health. After successfully attending an event at a local church in September, I realized that I probably could start attending live theater and concert events again. This was something that I hadn’t expected to do be able to do for another several years, and it is a huge milestone for me in my healing journey. Fortuitously, my 15 year old daughter is taking a costuming class as an elective this year, and she’s required to go to a live performance every six weeks, anything from a free one person poetry reading in a coffee shop to a Broadway musical. As I looked for options for her (and me) to attend this school year in Austin, I found that Josh Groban was coming to Austin in October and that tickets were all but sold out (two individual tickets available in different balcony sections). I was crushed. I was talking about this with one of my health practitioners who encouraged me to look on Craigslist or to just show up the night of the show to find tickets from someone who needed to sell.
 
So back in October the week before the concert, I was looking at Craigslist for tickets to see Josh Groban. I was thoroughly annoyed at the number of businesses scalping tickets, but after a few days I eventually I found some seats on Craigslist for original purchase price located in the back of the orchestra section that were being sold by someone with a death in the family. As I sat there debating buying them, I got an intuitive hit to go check the concert hall website where I'd unsuccessfully looked for tickets previously: When this happens, it feels like there is someone in my brain loudly saying, “GO LOOK AT THE OFFICIAL SITE!” When I searched this time on the official site, there were two adjacent front row orchestra seats available (plus two adjacent seats a few rows back from that). This was actually fourth row seating because the pit was covered and three rows were added, but it was still close enough that my daughter commented after the show that Josh had a loose thread hanging from the back of the blue suit jacket he wore in the first act that was bugging her. (Yes, she is Type A, and yes, I do know which parent she got it from. Sigh. :) )
 
Josh Groban got seriously ill with a lung infection in October and had to reschedule the Austin concert. I knew when he canceled his New Orleans show a few days before that there was a huge chance that he would cancel Austin as well; I began praying for a reschedule because I didn’t want to lose those amazing seats I had gotten! When the rescheduled concert was set for December 19th, I looked at the calendar and discovered that my ex had just bought Star Wars tickets for the exact same date at the same time for the kids. Fortunately my daughter was able to grasp the concept that she could see Star Wars any time but Josh Groban wasn’t going to be available to sing at any other time. Her cousin took her Star Wars ticket, and our girls’ night was back on, just delayed by two months.
 
Last night, after overcoming all the hurdles of a disabled individual trying to attend an event at a major auditorium, my daughter and I were finally in the theater. Honestly, I sat there in shock for a bit with my hands shaking, so amazed that I was actually in Bass Concert Hall once again. A few years ago I would have said that this might never be possible. If Josh Groban had decided not to sing, I would have been disappointed but I still would have gone home incredibly happy because I simply made it into the theater. That’s how huge of a deal it was that I went last night.
 
Fortunately, though, Josh Groban performed last night despite a “full-blown sinus infection” which he claimed had him performing at only 86% though I don’t think anyone in the audience would have noticed if he hadn’t shared that information. I certainly wouldn’t have! His music was every bit as amazing as I expected it to be in person, and I enjoyed every minute of the evening. I didn’t take notes as I wanted to be fully present in and enjoying the moment, so my retelling of the evening probably has the setlist in the wrong order though it’s somewhat close to the original experience.
 
While I was expecting to be powerfully moved by this concert since Groban’s recordings can leave me in tears depending on the day, what I didn’t expect to happen was that the evening became a life review for me. As song after song unfurled, images from my life, past, present and future, marched through my mind’s eye. Some of the songs that weren’t favorites before suddenly took on totally different meanings as I found new, deep, and very emotional acceptance about parts of my life.
 
Josh Groban walked onto the stage opening with “Pure Imagination” from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a song that speaks to me of the innocence of childhood. I spent my childhood with my head in a book, the safest and happiest place for me to be, though I was actually kind of freaked out by most of Roald Dahl’s books. Groban followed this with “Try to Remember” from The Fantasticks which was the school musical in my sophomore year of high school. While our El Gallo sounded nothing like Groban, the memories still flooded back to me of that time in my life when I was the stage manager and one of my still current friends ran one of the spotlights, terrifying me by scrambling up to its rather unsafe perch. This, too, was a time of partial innocence. While my life was far from happy, I still had my health, and in no way could I foresee the struggles ahead of me in life. Only three months after that production, I began my 22 year relationship with my now ex-husband.
 
After these first two songs, Josh Groban began talking to the audience. My daughter had asked before the concert started if Groban would be doing anything about Donald Trump like he did on Jimmy Kimmel. I told her that I doubted it, and while she was disappointed in that answer, she was not at all let down by the other humor that Groban amused his audience with between songs. During this first round of talking, he explained that he knew that Bass Concert Hall was probably named after someone with the last name of Bass, but he preferred to think of it as one of those talking bass fish like the ones he gets from his aunt for Christmas each year. After having an amusing conversation with an imaginary talking bass, Groban then said for the first of two times that evening that he was highly medicated. I still can’t imagine being able to perform that well while medicated!
 
From there, Groban sang “Old Devil Moon” accompanied by an Austin trumpeter. The song has been going through my head since then including when I woke up during the night. Groban was subsequently joined by the incredibly talented singer Lena Hall for the duet “All I Ask of You” which he sings with Kelly Clarkson on the Stages album. Hall performed a solo afterward, singing “It’s a Man’s, Man’s, Man’s World” originally sung by James Brown. I could tell my daughter was really impressed with Hall’s singing as she was Googling Hall during intermission. I listened to the song thinking about the strong woman I have had to be to survive this life and knowing that my daughter is also a strong young woman, filled with self-confidence, who is going to be able to make her way in a world where women often still aren’t treated as men’s equals.
 
As he had promised earlier yesterday on Twitter, Josh Groban began a few of the songs that he has not performed on tour or in recent history starting with “Dulcinea” from Man of La Mancha. That was probably the low point of the evening for me; both my daughter and I found the red moving images on the curtains behind Groban to be disorienting and distracting. Groban also sang the first of two Christmas songs he performed last night, “The Christmas Song.” He introduced the song by saying that his album Noël (2007) had been very successful, but after its success, he was very Christmased out and didn’t want to sing Christmas songs again until now. I found this amusing because when I announced to my sons that I had bought tickets for Josh Groban in concert, my youngest asked, “Is that the guy who sings Christmas songs?” It made me realize that I play Noël around my kids far more often than any of Groban’s other albums though it’s not the album I listen to most often by any stretch of the imagination.

To close out the first half of the evening, Groban sang “What I Did for Love” from A Chorus Line. This song was one of the most moving parts of the evening as the song touched a pain in me I hadn’t known was there. As I had been thinking about my love of theater throughout the evening, I realized during this song that it was something that my ex-husband had never truly shared. He came with me to various events, but he never understood the joy they brought to me nor the passion they ignite in me. Like many other things in our relationship, that power of music and theater was something that I abandoned, and now I am regaining that lost part of my life again. Yet despite what I gave up in my relationship with him, I looked at our beautiful daughter sitting next to me, and the lyrics “Won't forget, can't regret/ What I did for love” hit me hard. Everything I put myself through in my relationship with him and everything I sacrificed was worth it for the three amazing children we are raising. Though I wish I hadn’t gone through so many years of emotional pain in a toxic relationship, I would never give up the blessings of my children.
 
The second half of the evening was no less entertaining than the first. Josh Groban began after the intermission by singing his medley of “Children Will Listen/Not While I’m Around.”  This opened a whole new level of emotional processing for me. As I had dressed for the evening, I tried putting on a labradorite pendant, but I couldn’t do it. I was intuitively being told that I had to wear my clear quartz pendant. I didn’t understand why until this medley when my heart chakra began aching terribly as the music released a great deal of stored emotional pain and the crystal helped fill the emptiness it left with healing white light. The release continued through the next few songs. This medley in particular forced me to acknowledge how horribly painful it has been for me not to have had someone on the journey who would tell me “Nothing's gonna harm you/ Not while I'm around.” This journey has certainly been one where “demons are prowling everywhere,” yet it’s one that I have had to fight without the support of a partner.
 
Rejoined by Lena Hall in a different sparkling dress than she wore before, Groban sang the duet of “If I Loved You” with her; I actually enjoyed their version more than the one with Audra McDonald on the Stages album. As I listened to these lyrics, once again I was shown some of the happiness that awaits me in the second half of my life just around the next bend. I am impatiently waiting for the day when I have a partner for the first time in hundreds of years who will love me in the way captured so beautifully in the lyrics of this song. Lena Hall then followed this with another solo singing “Maybe I’m Amazed” by Paul McCartney and which she had recorded in honor of her father, a huge Beatles fan.
 
Moving on to another set of songs not on the Stages album, Groban announced he would be singing another Christmas song. Someone from the audience screamed out, “O Holy Night” which would have been my choice had I been able to vote on the song selection. To accommodate that request, Groban instead offered up a short version of Eric Cartman of South Park singing “O Holy Night.”  It was truly remarkable; Groban is a better Cartman than Cartman I think. (I also believe this is the point where Groban again blamed his medication again for his actions.) Having somewhat satisfied the audience member’s request, Josh Groban moved on to “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” which he dedicated it to the troops who are not able to be home for Christmas as he does on Noël. During the song (which is actually my least favorite on Noël but which I enjoyed last night), I was flooded with an understanding that Christmas will never again be for me what it was in the past. It’s still a very fun event with my children who so far this year have put R2-D2 in the manger in lieu of the Baby Jesus, but it will never be the Christmas of my childhood again.
 
The next offering was “Unusual Way” which is from the musical Nine. As Groban related yet another one of his very amusing stories which in no way is captured by my summary, he said that this song was recorded but not released on the Stages album. He had seen Nine live with Antonio Banderas, and he was close enough to grasp one of Banderas’ chest hairs (ok, not really) and make a wish on it and now he was on a stage in Austin singing this song. “Unusual Way” is a song which I had never heard before but which is now on my playlist of favorites. I hope Groban releases the recording of it on a future album! This song again lead me to reviewing scenes from my past while simultaneously having an understanding of what is to come in my future.
 
When I was leaving my house for the concert, I had meant to put a wad of facial tissues in my purse because I was afraid that if Groban sang “Anthem,” I would melt into a puddle because his rendition of that song makes me cry every time without fail. Fortunately or unfortunately, “Anthem” was not on the setlist since I forgot to stock my purse. However, one of the last songs was the one which left me in tears, and not too unsurprisingly it was “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables” from Les Miserables. Groban dedicated it to the victims of Paris, San Bernardino, and all affected by the recent terrorism and violence in the world. For me, it brought on a reflection of all those from my life who are no longer alive, a melancholic reflection that often happens for me around the holidays anyway.
 
As his closing song, Josh Groban sang, “You’ll Never Walk Alone” from Carousel. If the tears hadn’t already started during the previous number, they would have commenced here. This was a song that had never particularly hit me when listening to the Stages album, but it’s now my favorite. Over the past year and especially in the last months, I have struggled with how lonely my journey back to health has been. Few of my friends have been strong enough to make it all the way through the years of illness. When I was separating from my ex-husband 4.5 years ago, I was terrified by the prospect of being alone in fighting the health problems, but what I rapidly learned was that I had already been facing it all on my own for a very long time. It was actually easier to fight the health battles without him in the same house as me draining away more of my energy. Yet that still hasn’t made it easier to walk this path alone. Finding faith and hope that I’m not truly alone has been the hardest challenge for me, especially in the recent months.
 
I’m also at a point where I’m deciding if I am going to be able to go forward in life without a wheelchair. I can walk, but on my bad days, trying to go more than a few feet is draining in an inexplicable way for those who haven’t traveled this same path I am on. So hearing Groban singing about walking, even in the metaphorical sense, prompted more tears. If the choice were just between attending events like this amazing one or not attending them, then I would have no hesitation in getting a wheelchair. However, it’s so much larger of a decision with so many other implications and issues attached that the decision isn’t simple. Thus, I was hearing something in the song that I suspect most other people in the audience didn’t hear: I was trying to understand if the “golden sky” is just around the corner or if I’m going to be living with this level of limited mobility for the rest of my life even once my health battles are done.
 
As the audience gave the first standing ovation and waited for Josh Groban to return for an encore, I couldn’t believe the show was over. It was like I had blinked and the evening was over. I felt like Groban had only sang a few songs until I came home and listed everything and realized it was really a longer evening than I thought! I also went into a bit of shock again. I had done it. I had attended a concert from beginning to end at Bass Concert Hall. I was so amazed and proud of myself for having conquered this hurdle. All I had left to do was get home which actually turned out to be easier than I feared.
 
Josh Groban returned for an encore with “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” This song has never been the same for me since it was used for Mark Greene’s death on ER in 2002; it now carries a connotation of heaven and the afterlife. I’m sure Judy Garland’s youngish death also impacts the association of the song for me. Yet somehow I left this song with an impression and a hope that the second half of my life is going to lead me to happiness that I’ve never experienced in the first half. My journey through hell is almost over and I will be emerging on the other side, somewhere over the rainbow, in a much better place than I’ve ever lived in.
 
When Josh Groban returns to Austin, I will definitely be going to see him again. The privilege of hearing him sing in person was more than words can describe. Hopefully the next time he returns, the struggles I faced in getting to the concert last night will be a distant memory, replaced with an abundance of health and love.
 
© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

Bass Concert Hall is one of the the major performance venues on the campus of The University of Texas at Austin. I first entered its doors in 1991 in my first semester at UT as an undergrad to hear Maya Angelou speak. I had no idea whom she was before attending, but everyone I was friends with was going, so I went too (for free!) and experienced an unbelievably powerful evening that I will never forget.

Since then, Bass Concert Hall has been the site of many memorable events in my life. In 1996, my now ex-husband and I went to a Spanish guitar concert on gifted tickets from someone at the church I worked at. In 1998, we went to see an opera on gifted tickets from friends that were in the second to last row of the second balcony; we left after two hours because we were utterly bored and because my vertigo had become so horrific at that point. Feeling like Scarlett O'Hara, I vowed never to sit in the balconies there again! In 1999, my ex-husband walked across Bass’ stage to receive his doctorate, and I did the same in 2001. When our twins had weaned, we finally had a night out, going to see Les Miserables in 2002. We also saw Blues Clues Live with our kids. (Not exactly the best show I’ve ever seen, but our kids loved it.) In 2003, the last time I was at Bass Concert Hall, I was 37 weeks pregnant with my youngest when we went to see Dora the Explorer Live. As my 15 year old daughter and I sat within the walls of Bass Concert Hall last night waiting to hear Josh Groban sing, I was telling her the stories about all of those events as well as others in other theaters.

Since 2003, I have been terribly ill. For two years I was all but bedbound, and for six of those years I was homebound. I still am restricted by extreme fatigue, very high levels of pain and chemical sensitivities. This triumvirate has left me disabled and limited in where I can go and how long I can stay once I get there. Live theater productions have simply not been an option for me in a very long time. Only in the past few months have I reached a point where I can go to large gatherings such as a concert without getting very sick afterwards due to liver problems. However, my newest challenge in life is being able to gain access to buildings when my body is struggling to move. Despite the 25 year old Americans with Disability Act, many buildings still are not very accessible to the disabled.

Parking is a challenge for anyone on the UT campus. This is a fact of life that any Austinite knows well. When we arrived on campus a full hour before the concert, my daughter asked if there was a game at the stadium adjacent to the concert hall. I explained there is no way to hold stadium and concert hall events simultaneously at UT. There simply isn’t the parking. The chaos she was seeing was only for the concert hall. However, despite the fact that everyone deals with this situation, parking for the disabled is even more challenging when it comes to UT’s campus.

After I bought the tickets to see Josh Groban in concert, I looked into parking to see what disabled options there were. As I looked at the parking website, there were absolutely no instructions for people who are disabled as to what to do or where to park. When I looked at Bass Concert Hall’s website, there were no instructions there either even though one page claims to have “directions, parking, and accessibility info.” This is something that is free and easy to fix if one knows how to update a website. There’s really no excuse for a major venue not having instructions for disabled parking and assistance on a website.

I then called the 1-866 number for the parking website and got a customer service assistant who told me that I should buy a parking ticket in the San Jacinto garage. I asked him if he was in Austin, and he confirmed my guess that he was not. Anyone who knows anything about UT and/or disabilities would not have made that recommendation. Hence, I called Bass Concert Hall, and the woman there said that they tell people with disabilities to buy in the Dedman Drive lot (which is what I had planned to do but I was verifying my instinct). To my horror, the woman at Bass Concert Hall also confirmed there was very limited disabled parking and there was no way to buy or reserve disabled parking spots even with a state disabled parking permit. So while I had just spent $352 on two concert tickets, there was absolutely no guarantee that I would be able to get parking that would guarantee my ability to have access to the building. This seems outrageously wrong.

The day of the concert, I did almost nothing. I ran two loads of laundry so I would have clothes to wear. I ate food that didn’t require much preparation. I napped and otherwise stayed on the couch all day. This is what I have to do in order to have enough energy to attend an event like this. I stayed on the couch until 6:15 pm with my legs elevated and braced to reduce pain. I got ready to leave and departed the house at 6:30 pm. On the way there, we encountered not one but two accidents delaying our arrival time to 7:05 pm, almost a full hour before the concert. (And today, the day after, I don’t even have the energy to run a few loads of laundry. The couch is my best friend again for the entire day.) 

When my daughter and I arrived at the Dedman Drive parking, there was only one disabled spot left and only about 10 spots total available in the vicinity of Bass Concert Hall; all were quickly filling. The non-disabled spots had orange cones in front of them to reserve them for concert permit holders, so one had to get out of the vehicle to move the cones to park in them, another layer of difficulty for a person with disabilities who may or may not have an able-bodied plus one in the car. I chose not to park in the sole remaining disabled spot but instead parked a short distance away because I was in good enough shape that I could walk it that night, plus I knew it would make our departure easier by parking in the correct direction facing to get off of the campus. However, that one remaining disabled spot was filled by the time we had walked past it after parking.

When we got to Bass Concert Hall itself, my daughter and I went to the restrooms where there was already a line out the door for the women’s. The men’s, of course, had no such queue. The women’s restroom is on the total opposite corner of the building from where our tickets were. In future, I will try to buy tickets on the other side of the building. There really is only one women’s restroom on the main floor, something I wish could have been remedied during renovations a few years ago, but space doesn't exist to put one elsewhere. I knew there was no way I was going to make it back to the restroom during the intermission because I couldn’t have stood in a line of the length that would have been there at intermission. It’s simply not physically possible for me.

My daughter and I headed toward our seats at 7:15 pm. The auditorium, however, was locked until 7:30 pm. There was nowhere left to sit at this point as the benches lining the hall were filled. I am not capable of standing for 15 minutes, so my daughter and I sat on a staircase in a way that I was able to put my legs at a comfortable angle. At 7:30, we were able to take our seats and remain comfortably there until after the show was over.

I have three major suggestions for Bass Concert Hall, The University of Texas at Austin, and the services they subcontract with in order to be more disability friendly for patrons of events.

1. Put directions for patrons with disabilities on your website and/or include a phone number of a contact for those needing additional assistance.
2. Allow patrons to designate themselves as disabled when they purchase tickets or create a system of allowing patrons with disabilities to identify themselves upon arrival. Those who have done so should be allowed to have priority seating for events before 7:30 just as those who are disabled get early boarding for planes. This solves the problem of there not being enough seating in the halls for those who are disabled yet who have to arrive an hour early in order to get parking for an event. There was also a woman in my aisle who arrived later who normally used a walker; it was very difficult for her climb over all the people already in the row. She could have benefitted from advance seating as well.
3. Please designate the entire Dedman Drive lot immediately adjacent to Bass Concert Hall as disabled parking only until fifteen minutes before the event. Patrons should be required to have a state issued disabled parking permit or license plate to park in this area before that time. Tickets sold in advance for this area should require patrons to enter a disabled permit number or disabled license plate number. The current disabled parking available is severely insufficient for the number of patrons with disabilities (especially at events like last night’s which had a median age of about 50).

I have tickets to attend The Sound of Music at Bass Concert Hall in February with my daughter, and we are both excited about that. Last night’s experience will help me to have a better idea of what to do for attending this next event, but it would be nice if patrons with disabilities didn’t have to learn these lessons the hard way.
​
© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

​(This is another really long post. Apologies in advance!)

On September 25th, I attended “An Evening with Spirit” hosted by James Van Praagh. I had read his most recent book, Adventures of the Soul, earlier this year, so I was intrigued by the idea of hearing Van Praagh speak when my mentor alerted me to this event. The event was held at Unity Church of the Hills in northwest Austin, just 10 minutes from my home.

As I have had issues around disability accommodation in recent months (in particular trying to see another psychic medium), I was concerned about being able to access this event without challenges. In particular, there were no paper tickets issued for the event. Instead, one had to show one’s driver’s license to gain admission. I feared that this would mean a huge line at the door to get in, and right now, I am not physically capable of standing for any extended amount of time. Thus, I contacted the ticketing company through their website the week before the event. I received no response. A few days before the event, I tried contacting the organizing company through their website. When I didn’t get a quick response, I tried calling the church. A volunteer named Joan answered the phone, and she responded with compassion and friendliness. I felt completely welcomed by her. She didn’t know the answers to my question and the paid staff was in a meeting, but she called me back within an hour with answers. She told me that there were benches in the lobby and that there would be church volunteers in the lobby who could assist me if I needed help with the line. I would be able to hand one of them my driver’s license and they could get me checked in. I felt so relieved by this information. 

When I did eventually get a response from the organizing company, and it was far from adequate. The email I sent read, “I sent a message last week through your website but never heard back from anyone. I require disability assistance for the event and need to talk to someone who can assist me.” The woman who responded said, “The church is fully handicapped accessible, but we are not equipped to provide personal assistance.  What kind of assistance were you looking for?” That response is a “no” in advance of knowing what I need which legally is the wrong answer under the ADA. Public events like this are required to provide reasonable accommodations. I was not asking for personal assistance, but the woman responding made assumptions before finding out the situation. My response to her was, “‘Fully handicapped accessible’ is relative; it actually doesn't encompass several of my disabilities. What that means in most cases the building is wheelchair accessible. I am mobility impaired but not in a wheelchair and need different accommodations.” Mercifully I had already talked to the church who had given me a compassionate response unlike the event organizers who said no in advance of finding out what I needed. This is the kind of thing that is VERY frustrating for someone who is disabled and has found the strength to ask for the help that they need to attend an event.

The evening of the event, I arrived at the church at 6:57 for a 7:30 pm event, and when I drove up to the parking lot and a volunteer attendant, I held up my disabled permit. The volunteer had me stop and roll down my window. He informed me that all the disabled parking was already taken, and I felt my heart sink and my stomach clench in a panic. However, he quickly remedied the issue: The parking attendant “created” a disabled spot for me by having me pull on the grass next to his own truck not far from the door to the church. Had we been in Central Austin, I would have been concerned about getting towed for such a maneuver, but I decided to trust this man. On my way out, I noticed that he had done the same for several other disabled attendees who arrived later than me. Clearly the church was aware of the problem of having more disabled attendees than spots and had worked through this issue before. I was grateful.

Walking into the lobby of the church, there were six volunteers standing at podiums, each with a portion of the alphabet. That meant that there was absolutely no wait, and I did not have to stand for any length of time. I went straight up to the “G” person, was checked in, and got my wristband to enter the auditorium. It was that simple. Once again, I was so grateful. While I wanted to browse the offerings in the lobby including an amazing looking gift shop, I knew I had to sit down and save my energy just to get through the night. I pulled out a book and read for a great deal during the wait for the event to start. The people in front of me were pretty heavily saturated with fabric softener, and the woman had on some perfume as well, but I was doing ok. Another woman was wandering around looking for a seat, and I invited her to sit next to me as I could tell she wasn’t loaded with fragrance. While my skin felt mildly irritated from the fabric softener in the air around me by the time I left, overall my body did well handling all of the chemicals it faced that evening. I was so pleased with how my body did under circumstances that would have left me in horrid pain for days afterward.

James Van Praagh was a far more entertaining speaker than I had expected. The person who introduced Van Praagh noted he has been doing this for thirty years, and when Van Praagh took the microphone, he noted, “Thirty years. Wow I am old. And I’m still short.” He called himself a comedium (a comedian plus a medium). Van Praagh said that he works in the Light, but he also has to keep it light, and his humor throughout the evening did help prevent the event from becoming overwhelmingly deep and depressing. He also noted that life on the road is just him and the dead people, so he has to do something to amuse himself. He made puns on sicko, psycho, and psychic as well. I agree with him that spending so much time in contact with the spirit world definitely gives one a different perspective, and it has changed my sense of humor as well. I find many things funny that I never would have laughed at before.

While most of the evening was talking with souls on the other side, Van Praagh also presented some philosophical and spiritual ideas. He said that the two biggest illusions most of us have is a sense of separation and death. We are all one: We are drops in the same ocean. In addition, death is not an end. It’s just a change. The spirits are still alive. They refer to us as “the living dead” because so many of us don’t actually live our lives but instead act out of fear. In addition, Van Praagh stressed that thoughts are real things. We create our own heaven or hell based on thoughts and vibrations. Most importantly, Van Praagh brought a message of love, stressing how important it is that we love and be guided by love.

By this point in the evening, my heart chakra was hurting terribly. I couldn’t figure out why. I was in a good mood and was feeling so blessed that I had actually made it into the event without any major problems. However, when Van Praagh mentioned empaths, I wanted to do a facepalm. Der! It wasn’t my heart hurting. It was everyone else around me who was wanting so desperately to hear from their loved ones. I was picking up on that and feeling heartache. I worked to boost my shield a bit and offered thanks that I was not in a place of personal pain and grief as so many clearly were.

When Van Praagh asked how many people had been to a reading with a psychic medium before, I wasn’t sure what to do. I ended up raising my hand. I’ve never been to a reading with another psychic medium, but I talk to the dead on a regular basis myself and I receive messages for other people. That counts, right? A large number of people there were first timers, and it was obvious from the energy in the air that many were very excited to be there.

Van Praagh took questions from the audience before he began receiving messages from the spirit world. Someone asked if they could set up signs with a loved one before that person died so that they could know that the other person was around. Van Praagh said that it was absolutely possible, but it was easier in some ways to do it after the loved one died. In that case, one would simply ask the loved one to send butterflies or raccoons or whatever to show that the loved one was around them.

Someone then proceeded to ask a question about reincarnation which led to Van Praagh wandering a bit in his answer. However, it was the most interesting thing for me all evening. Van Praagh very much believes in reincarnation. He believes we are souls having human experiences. This is only one world, one communication. In comparison to the rest of the Universe, the Earth is only a grain of sand on the beach. Van Praagh also believes that only 20% of the soul is in the body, and 80% is outside. He thinks this is how one can experience several lifetimes simultaneously. He believes that we are experiencing far more than what is going on in our bodies right now and we just aren’t aware.

Before Van Praagh began receiving messages from the other side, he emphasized that what he does is a three way conversation between the other side, him, and the audience. It is communicating in different language that is thought based, and it is very different than spoken language. He was the translator for all of us. I realized why he gave such a strong preface once the readings were under way because Van Praagh often makes comments to the spirits saying things like “slow down” or “I don’t know.” He definitely serves as a channel, often speaking in the first person as if he were the spirit who is coming through. I found it fascinating to watch him work.

Also before beginning receiving messages for loved ones in the audience, Van Praagh lead the group in a mediation which was a great way to calm the energy of the room a bit. However, this was the one and only time during the evening where I strongly disagreed with what Van Praagh did and said, but that is influenced by my personal experiences. I can understand that others who have walked a different path don’t see the world in the way that I do, and Van Praagh’s experiences may be very different than mine. The meditation was based on the idea that the heart is the center of the soul, and idea I had no problem with. However, in the middle of the meditative exercise, Van Praagh encouraged people to let spirits around them merge with their bodies so that they could feel their deceased ones’ love for them in a deep and personal way. As someone who had many unhappy and unhealthy souls attached to me which we had to clear in my journey to health, this made me cringe. I don’t invite others to randomly share my body space if I don’t know whom I am working with, and most people in the audience had no idea whom or what they were inviting in (though they certainly wanted to feel the love of family and friends). Unless the setting were one where I knew that everyone was properly grounded and shielded, I would not lead an exercise like that because of the negative consequences it could have for less than spiritually prepared individuals.

From there, Van Praagh began receiving messages. In between messages, he would often take a metaphysical break, talking a bit about important topics related to what he had just related from the other side. Some of his wisdom included:

• Memories create our experiences.
• Prayer is unconditional love. It doesn’t matter what words come out.
• LIfe is a series of choices: We can act out of love or fear. When we work from a place of judgment, that is a place of fear, and that creates a false ego.
• After we die, love and thoughts live on. After death, we all have a life review when we discuss what we did and didn’t do with others who were part of our lives. We judge ourselves in the life review.
• We are works in progress.
• We should give unconditionally even if we know we’ll never get it back.
• We shouldn’t waste time. We should make the most of it.
• Van Praagh feels the movie Ghost is very true about presence of the dead. Also based on that movie, Van Praagh wants us not to think of our loved ones how they died. If we think about their deaths, we make them die every day. Instead, think of how they lived.

I didn’t take a lot of notes on the messages he brought through, in part because I was so captivated and in part because they felt very private even in a room of 500 people. One of the most poignant was a widow whose late husband came through. Their love for each other was palpable even across the divide. When the husband told her that he cuddles her in bed every night, the whole room let out a sigh because it was such an emotional sentiment. In another message, Van Praagh was bringing through someone who had committed suicide with a gun. When he said that, eight people stood up, to which Van Praagh made a comment along the lines of, “Oy. Texas and its guns” which caused the entire audience to laugh. When Van Praagh added that this person had a collection of guns, only two people sat down. Clearly Texans do love their guns. The other memorable message for me was a twenty-something son coming through for his mother (and his father who was not there). The young man was an empath who didn’t know how to deal with the energy he was feeling in this life which lead to him eventually overdosing. On the other side, he was helping animals who had crossed over alone, another comment that deeply moved the audience on an emotional level. Van Praagh asked the mother to remember this side of her son, the young compassionate man who rescued animals, not the man who died an unfortunate early death.

For me, the biggest takeaway from the evening was to be reminded how I am so blessed with my metaphysical gifts to be able to connect with the dead. It has given me a sense of power over death that many others don’t have. Watching people who don’t have such strong gifts connect with Van Praagh’s help was deeply moving, and it made me realize how much I undervalue on a personal level what I can do. I also realized during the evening that I really didn’t have anyone I *needed* to come through. For a moment I thought my paternal grandfather might be coming through because Van Praagh was in my area talking about one of the health issues that my grandfather had and that he was a veteran of WWII, but as he progressed, it was clear that it wasn’t for me. That was fine by me. I am comfortable with where my loved ones are. I’m fairly certain that my daughter has reincarnated, so I didn’t expect or need to hear from her either. Anyone else I might want to hear from, I have. As a result, seeing others connect with ones they needed to get closure with was a far more powerful gift than receiving a message for me.

I am grateful that I was able to make this event. I appreciated having such a great experience with Unity Church of the Hills which has made me quite willing to go back to other events there. I was thrilled to watch Van Praagh in action. I didn’t attend the rest of the events that weekend, but I am sure they brought a great deal of healing, hope, and education to those who did.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

I am still at a point in my recovery where my health (or lack thereof) occasionally overrules my desire to participate in events. Most of the time, it’s no big deal. I just don’t end up going to whatever Meetup or festival I had in mind. It’s disappointing, but I understand that it is still my reality. The bigger problem comes with buying tickets for events that will sell out before the night of the activity or performance. I’ve unfortunately had it happen to me more times than I would like that I am not able to use a ticket for an event that I really wanted to attend. It feels like insult added to injury. It is hard in that situation to find happiness for others when not only am I in pain, but my body is denying me the chance to go to a live event I really wanted to go to. One of the ways I find to soften the blow is by finding someone who really wants my ticket and giving it to them.

Several years ago, Susan Piver was in Austin for a small discussion on meditation. As the evening approached, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to attend. As I was getting ready to find a friend to give my ticket to, Piver sent out an e-mail stating that there was a waiting list for tickets, and if anyone knew they couldn’t attend to please let her know and she would issue a refund so that someone else might use that ticket. I thought that her offering a refund was incredibly generous, and definitely not something most people would have done. I had already made peace with losing the cost of admission, though. So when I e-mailed her letting her know my spot at the evening was available again, I also let her know that I didn’t need a refund and I would prefer she gave my spot to someone else, asking them to pay it forward in return. She was happy to do so. Thus, even though I was disappointed not to attend the event, I was left with a feeling of happiness knowing that someone who had wanted to attend was not only getting to attend but was attending for free, and hopefully in turn that person would be passing on the love to someone else in the future.

This week, my practitioners and I have opened up a new level of healing for me. As we clear out a bunch of stored trauma from my body, I am going through very intense pain in my psoas muscles and my lumbar vertebrae where the psoas attach to the spine. Despite having seen my acupuncturist, craniosacral therapist, massage therapist and chiropractor on Tuesday and Wednesday, my back was still spasming and making life a little (ok, a lot!) less enjoyable. I am not enjoying this process, but I know that once this trauma is removed from my body, my health is going to be able to move forward immensely.

Wednesday night, though, I was having to accept that I was not going to be able to attend Stephen Jenkinson’s lecture promoting his new book, Die Wise: A Manifesto for Sanity and Soul, on Thursday night. I have been talking about this event for weeks to people I know because I was so excited about it. Our society does death so poorly, and I was looking forward to hearing someone speak who clearly understands that there is a good way to die. As I was struggling with my reality, an e-mail from the organizers of the event came in. It stressed the level of parking difficulty for the event. I pretty much knew I was sunk at that point. I sent an email asking if extra disabled parking had been allotted for the event because of the population that the talk was likely to draw, but I got no response. I was going to have to show up over an hour early to get parking next to the event rather than a few blocks away, and then the event itself was two hours long. Combined with the hour commute, it would have been a four hour evening. I knew my body simply could not do it in the condition it is currently in.

One of the people whom I had discussed the event with was my backup massage therapist. The tickets for the event had been sold out for quite a while when I talked with her about it, but I could tell she was very interested in it. She talked about a similar course she had taken that really enabled her to just be with her aging grandmother on her last visit. So when I accepted the fact that I could not go, she was the first person I thought of to offer the ticket to. She fortunately had no plans and was happy to take the ticket off my hands. She looked for a copy of one of his other books for me, texting me before the event started, though there were none to purchase. We’ve ordered some of his books from Canada, and I’m looking forward to getting together with her to hear more about the evening. Her getting to attend the event helped lessen my pain of not being able to.

Time passes, and speakers often returns to Austin. Susan Piver will be in Austin at the end of November to discuss her new book, Start Here Now. I am determined to be there this time! I’m going to be reading Stephen Jenkinson’s books which I have ordered, and I will watch his Griefwalker video online. While I was disappointed to miss events like these, knowing that someone else got to enjoy the event instead really helped soften the blow for me.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC ​

Several years ago, I began changing my Facebook usage. I realized that most of my 300+ “friends” were actually people whom I had no real contact or relationship with. Some lived out of state and rarely checked Facebook. Others were people whom I felt like were gawking at my life like a trainwreck: They wanted to watch the pain in my life to comfort themselves that their lives weren’t nearly as bad as mine. Those people had very little desire to actually be involved in my life. When I asked someone to help, they were never there for me. Having confronted the reality of how much time social media was taking from my life, I pared my “friends” list down over several cuts eventually landing on a list of less than 45 people.

More recently, I became aware of a very disturbing pattern among the remaining people on my friends list. Very few of the people whom I let see my most intimate posts were able to support me in my disability discrimination struggles. When I post about being discriminated against, there were crickets chirping on a regular basis. Had I posted that I had been told to cover up while breastfeeding, a large portion of of them would have been outraged and would have called for a nurse-in. They would have stirred up online protests and would have gotten the media involved. Had I posted that I was stopped by the police for driving while black, another large portion would have been up in arms, ready to protest against racial discrimination. But when I post that I am experiencing disability discrimination, almost none of my “friends” could be bothered to say something to me either on or off of Facebook.

To me, that is very telling. Friendship is supposed to be in good times and in bad. Friends are supposed to want to celebrate your joys and support you in your suffering. As Stephen and Ondrea Levine state in their book Embracing the Beloved, “To be in relationship is to open to the life pain of another on the way to yourself.” I am someone who gives to the limits of my being when others are hurting, yet I often do not find people who want to give in return. Furthermore, it is very hard to find friends who want to support you when your issues are not a hot cause or something they can identify with personally. Perhaps they are too influenced by the media and choose to only support causes that are popular right now such as #blacklivesmatter or #breastcancerawarenessmonth (not that those aren't extremely valid causes). 

Let’s have a reality check: Every single person in this world who is not disabled is only one major accident or infection away from being disabled themselves. Perhaps that is why no one wants to see the blatant ongoing discrimination I and many others face on a daily basis in our society. They are too scared to recognize that someday they, too, may be disabled and in need of assistance. If you have ever told yourself that disability discrimination is an issue that doesn’t affect or matter to you, stop and ask yourself: Why don't you actively support the disabled in our society? What are your prejudices? What are your fears? What makes you potentially unable or unwilling to support this problem even on the very local level of saying, "I'm sorry you got treated like a second-class citizen" to one of your friends when they experience disability discrimination?

So many people have told me, “But I don’t know what to say.” That, too, is an indication of personal work that they need to do. When these friends see other friends or acquaintances struggling with personal troubles, the death of a loved one, or another life challenge, they have no problem offering support. They offer up generic words of encouragement: "I'm sorry you're facing this." "I am sorry you hurt." "I hope things change for you." "I wish you weren't having to go through this." Using the examples above, even when friends don’t understand struggles on a personal level because they aren't black or they haven't had breast cancer, they still know how to say, “I’m sorry you are having a rough time” or even "That sucks!" It's Basic Friendship 101. That is part of what being a friend is about. If they chose to, they would be able to apply the same skills to their disabled friends and their struggles. However, with the topic of disability discrimination, people, even those who purport to be my friends, want the issue to be invisible. They don’t want to have to face it.

The sad reality is that I’ve done another Facebook purge as things like this show me clearly who my friends and acquaintances really should be. They are the ones who understand that my life is a roller coaster, just like most other humans', and if they want to be my friend, they have to be there for both the ups and the downs. I have found that fair-weather friends are abundant in this world, and I really don’t have a need for them. It’s the friends who are with me through thick and thin that really count.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(Apologies in advance for the super long post!)

Three years ago when Jenny Lawson published her first book, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir), I was still mostly homebound, not yet well enough to attend social functions. The night Lawson read at BookPeople, I threw myself a pity party as I sat at home staring at the clock knowing that just 20 minutes from my house there was an event happening that I wanted to attend but my health would not let me be at. It was crazy making for me.

This time around, my life is very different both personally and professionally. I am so grateful to be in a much better place. I’m still not able to do nearly what most people do on an ordinary day, but I am doing so much more than three years ago. Hence, I made plans to attend Lawson’s reading of her new book, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things, switching custody nights and various appointments so that I would have enough energy to attend the event. Yesterday afternoon, my body tried to give me a migraine, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from attending. I took the drugs I can take for migraines and headed out.

As I sat waiting to turn left onto Lamar to get to the bookstore, my stomach started churning with nervousness. Despite how much better I am doing, there’s always the fear that I will get to an event and not be able to physically handle it. I do still have to leave certain situations when the chemical fragrance is more than I can handle. After the issues I had last week around disability accommodations, I was really worried about what the Universe might throw at me. It’s still a physical challenge for me to get from point A to point B, and sometimes I just can’t do it no matter how much determination I have.

When I arrived at Bookpeople, the parking lot was full but mercifully the two disabled spots closest to the door were still available. Once in the building, I debated the stairs versus elevator issues I have, and I decided to take the stairs mainly because it was what other people were doing and since I haven’t been in BookPeople for 11+ years, I wasn’t sure where I was going. When I arrived at the top of the stairs at 6:40 for a 7 pm reading, it was already standing room only. There were no chairs available in my vision nor were there any places to sit on the floor anywhere within visual range of the podium. I approached a store employee and asked him if they had disabled seating; I let him know that I could sit on the floor but I couldn’t stand for the event. He asked if I had called ahead, and I had not because it hadn’t dawned on me to do so. I now know for next time! However, they had a few extra seats set aside as reserved for those who needed them. The reserved seats were in the first and second rows. At first, former Catholic that I am, I tried to sit in the second row (because Catholics never sit in the front row in church unless it’s the only available seating, and even then, sometimes they prefer to stand). However, I quickly discovered that I couldn’t sit in that second row because the seats were too close to the row in front of them and I couldn’t bend my legs at an angle that was relatively painless. So I moved up to the front row between another woman who was likely in her 20s or 30s and a senior citizen couple. None of them were loaded with perfume, thank heavens, so I was ok for the entire reading.

While we were sitting there waiting for the presentation to begin (15 minutes late), the older couple next to me were chatting with each other. To preface this, I have to say that I have issues around fame and people’s private lives being in the public eye. I had to do a great deal of personal work before I could be comfortable with having a website with my picture on it on the web. So part of me still feels strongly that what people choose to share publicly should be respected as the limit; paparazzi, reporters and fans should respect those limits. However, this couple next to me were talking about Hailey and Victor, Jenny Lawson’s daughter and husband, in a weird way that sounded like they knew everything about the Lawsons just from her blog. It was kind of freaking me out that I had managed to end up seated next to a couple of senior citizen stalkers who seemed to think they were actually part of Lawson’s life. It also was a reality call for me to recognize my own prejudice that stalkers are only young people. These senior citizens were teaching me otherwise.

Before the reading began, a BookPeople manager came over to our section with another employee and told us that he would be escorting us upstairs via the elevator to get our books signed first. I actually had not bought a book because I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to handle the full evening and because waiting to get it signed at the last book signing I attended at another store was hard on my body. If I had known that BookPeople was aware of this kind of issue for the disabled, I definitely would have pre-ordered one; I now know that for future events as well. However, I’m actually grateful I didn’t order the hardcover because after listening to Lawson read two chapters last night, I really want to listen to the audiobook. I’m not a fan of audiobooks 99.9% of the time which makes this is an exception to my norm. Lawson also mentioned during her “no pants party” on Tuesday night that there is an extra chapter in the audiobook, so there’s that incentive as well.

When Jenny Lawson finally made her appearance, she looked around with grateful and amazed tears in her eyes and said, “Holy shit, you guys! There are so many of you here." She was greeted with a raucous round of laughter that along with her comment set the tone for the whole evening. It was a truly amazing crowd; I’d bet there were 250-300 people there. Lawson’s phone wouldn’t let her take a panoramic of the whole crowd because it was too big! (My leg is on the far right of the top photo; I’m cut out of it mostly, though.)

Lawson began by reading two chapters from Furiously Happy. After reading one in which she describes the advantages of passing out with a speculum in one’s vagina, she commented that she had been practicing looking up and making eye contact while she read about her body parts at the gynecologist’s office. When she actually did look up during the reading, she saw her grandparents listening to her read about her vagina. She then said, “Hi Granny and Pop-Pop!” and waved at the senior citizens sitting next to me. Oh. No wonder they sounded like they knew the Lawson family so well. They weren’t actually crazy stalkers after all! Not even once did it dawn on me that they might be relatives of hers even though she lives in central Texas.

Moving on to the Q&A session, Lawson began by addressing a question about parenting with mental illness; she gave a similar answer during her No Pants Party. She said that the amount of openness one can have with a child about one’s condition is going to depend on the age and personality of the child. Lawson said that her daughter Hailey knows now that she has mental illness, but Hailey knows that no matter how bad things are for Lawson that Lawson will always have time for her. Even if all they can do is watch Doctor Who or Miss Fisher’s Murder Mystery Series together on the couch, it’s still time spent together. Lawson does not allow her daughter to read her blog though many of her daughter’s friends do. Hailey does get to read anything written about her and has veto power about what is said. There are some things about Hailey that Lawson doesn't share because she doesn't want her to be tormented by mean 14 year old girls. When Lawson does share something to Hailey, she reads the blog entry out loud so she can censor the language in it. Lawson believes that most kids are far more perceptive than we realize when it comes to what is going on around them.

Another woman from the audience asked how one balances taking care of one’s self when dealing with a mental illness and still actually managing to get writing done. Lawson responded that a great deal of it is about respecting the need to not write at times. She admitted that writing about certain topics can be triggering for her, especially the darkest parts. At those times, she had to give herself permission not to write and just take care of herself. She said her editor helped her to see that sometimes the best breakthroughs for writer’s block come when engaged in recreation such as when she was refilling her creative cup such as watching Doctor Who or reading. In addition, Lawson mentioned the phrase, “If you can’t write, just sit down and write.” She said that while that used to make no sense to her, she’s learned that some days that she has to write stuff that’s not very good but which will eventually evolve. Lawson said she’s got a thousand pages of stuff that may someday actually be good enough but they’re not there yet.

On a lighter note, someone asked Lawson if there was a piece of taxidermy she really regretted not buying. Lawson said that she limits herself in that the pieces must not be too expensive, they must have died a natural death, and they need to be old. She said the one piece that she is still haunted by is a unicorn at Paxton Gate in San Francisco which is actually a French horse head. She said it’s not white like the typical unicorn but brown and actually rather jinky looking. The unicorn is missing some of its teeth and is “so messed up.” From there, Lawson went on a very long-winded and extremely funny diversion about her Bank of America credit card recently being put on a fraud suspicion hold because Victor had bought a taxidermied beaver for her at Paxton Gate while he was there with a friend. Any transcript of the story would simply not do justice to Lawson’s fabulous storytelling ability. She’s just one of those people you could listen to for hours while she talked about almost anything because she could find a way to make it funny.

When asked which author Lawson herself would line up to meet, she said that she still has difficulty doing this because she’ll get in line to meet an idol and then panics when she gets close to the front. She said she is a fangirl of anyone who manages to finish anything, but more specifically she loves Neil Gaiman whom she got to meet backstage at an event. She also loves David Sedaris but she hasn’t met him; her friend Dylan Brody opened for Sedaris and got him to autograph a book to Lawson which says, “Any friend of Dylan’s is a whore.” (See comment 68 here). Most of all, she would bring Ray Bradbury back from the dead because he really does it for her.

A more recent fan asked Jenny Lawson why she began the Bloggess. Lawson said that many years ago she was working at a non-profit in human resources ironically teaching people how to act appropriately. She had actually started writing as a child as an outlet for her anxiety disorder. Eventually another mom blogger in Houston decided to quit her job because that blogger didn’t think one could be a good blogger and a good parent. Lawson decided she must be the crappiest parent ever because she volunteered to not only write on that blog but to do it for free. However, she was frequently getting in trouble for what she wrote, so eventually she started her own blog where she could write whatever she wanted without censorship. She said she now blogs to read the comments because the humor from her readers makes her laugh quite often. (And it's true. While I generally abide by the rule "never read the comments," I love reading the responses on her blog.)

Lawson ended the evening with a great question from a man in the audience: “What do you think of The new Doctor [Who]?” Lawson asked if they couldn’t discuss something easier like abortion. After loud laughter from the audience, Lawson said that she is still getting used to him. She thinks that it is an interesting take on The Doctor, and he is “way alien” but doesn’t make a very good human. He’s definitely not her favorite, but for her the pinnacle was Doctor Donna. And with that, Jenny Lawson closed the Q&A and headed upstairs to beginning the signing portion of the evening.

After 75 minutes sitting in the same chair, my body was definitely ready to leave. So much has changed for me physically since just four months ago when I went to see Chris Harrison's book release. When I left the book signing this time, I could feel that my body was exhausted, but I wasn’t having many of the symptoms I had when I walked out of the last event. I didn’t go into a lot of pain last night (aside from the migraine I was already trying to fight off), and I slept really well-- no fibro flares or any other assorted misery. I am so happy that my health is finally returning to a place where attending events like this is a reality for me. It was a wonderful evening filled with great people watching an abundant laughter. I was also incredibly grateful to have a positive experience around disability accommodation thanks to BookPeople instead of the obstacles I’ve encountered in so many other places of late.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(This article is the second in a series of articles on living life with disabilities. The first can be found here.)

For most people who are able-bodied, they don’t have a perspective of what it is like to be disabled. Some may have taken care of an elderly parent or disabled child, and those people are far more likely to understand the issues that the disabled face. When I was in seventh grade, I injured my foot and was in a wheelchair and/or on crutches for over a month. I also worked in a nursing home as a volunteer and a paid employee when I was in grades 9-11. Yet even those experiences did not prepare me for the full reality of what it is like to be a disabled person.

Oftentimes, I think that able-bodied people will make poor decisions around disability issues out of ignorance. Quite often these people are incredibly well-meaning, but they just haven’t stopped to think through the reality of what their decisions or words will mean to a disabled person. Take, for example, a popular internet saying by Zig Ziglar: “There are no elevators to success. You have to take the stairs.” I understand that Ziglar was trying to make the point that no one can be lazy and successful: He believed that hard work in line with the American Protestant work ethic that dominates popular thinking in our society is the way to be successful. Since he was a Republican and a Christian, it makes sense that this ideology was part of his belief system. (I disagree with that philosophy, but that’s a whole different blog post.)

However, I would bet that Ziglar did not truly think through what his words might mean to a person with mobility impairment. For those who can’t climb stairs, this quote becomes almost insulting. It insinuates that those who take the elevator are lazy or cheating or not working hard. Yet it may take a person with mobility impairment a lot more time and effort to get to the second floor of a building in a literal sense, even if that person does take the elevator. In a figurative sense, the person with physical disabilities may also have to work much harder than an able-bodied person as well because of prejudice in our society that closes off many opportunities to the disabled.

There are other times when I feel like selfishness, narcissism or stupidity are actually the roots of an able-bodied person’s decisions to not help those who are mobility impaired. In some cases, people with disabilities actually can have those same dastardly problems and will make decisions that impair or harm others with disabilities. Decisions like those seem hypocritical to me. The current governor of Texas, Greg Abbott, lost the use of his legs in an accident more than thirty years ago and now requires a wheelchair for mobility. However, despite having personally endured the hardships of being disabled, Abbott has time and again fought against rights for the disabled. As the former Attorney General of Texas, Abbott repeatedly argued that the state should be immune from lawsuits regarding the ADA. He even argued that a woman who was missing a leg was not disabled because she had a prosthesis. Now, as the legislature is about to cut funding for therapies for children with disabilities on Medicaid, Abbott supports the decision as a fraud preventing measure even though he himself underwent necessary intensive physical therapy after his paralyzing accident.

A lot closer to home, I keep encountering different people who make ignorant or narcissistic decisions that impact those with disabilities. Even though my knees are in horrific pain right now, I went to Whole Foods last night to buy groceries for my family. I’ve had Instacart do the shopping the past few times, but I really wanted to go myself this time since I find it hard to flush out a grocery list for others to buy everything we need. I also really enjoy picking out things like produce and flowers myself. By the time I finished a full large cart of grocery shopping and headed out to the car, I was exhausted, sweating, and in screaming knee pain. I had parked in a disabled spot, the third one in the row. As I walked out the door and toward my car, I watched a young, beautiful stylish woman finish loading her groceries into her trunk. She was probably 25ish, and she was dressed very stylishly but casually (which is about as much as you can expect for a Friday night in Austin). As she closed her trunk, she walked two feet away, and then shoved her empty grocery cart… straight into an empty disabled parking spot. That meant that when the next person with disabilities arrived at the spot, s/he/ze would have to get out of the car, move the cart, get back in the cart, and then pull in. The woman watched the cart roll forward for a few more seconds and then turned to get in her car.

At that point, I saw three options. I could do nothing which was not an option for me even with as tired and painful as I felt. I could confront the young woman politely, explaining what she had just done. While it would be rude to leave the cart in any empty spot rather than a cart lane, leaving it in a disabled spot is even more inconsiderate because of the difficulties some individuals with mobility impairments have when it comes to getting in or out of cars. However, given the week I had just had, I was fairly sure the young woman would tell me to mind my own business (if not something less polite and/or more physically aggressive). That left option three: Once I finished unloading my cart, I would move the other cart into the holding lane with mine even though I am disabled and in pain, unlike the very healthy looking young woman who put her cart in the disabled spot.

Mercifully for me, a car with disabled plates pulled up to the spot while I was unloading my groceries. Thankfully for them, they had three people in the car, so one was able to get out and move the cart on behalf of the person in the car with a mobility impairment. However, even if that person who moved the cart was fully able-bodied, it was still a rude move on the part of the woman who pushed her cart into the disabled spot. It would have taken her 10 or 15 seconds longer to put the cart in a holding lane rather than in the disabled spot, but because of her own seemingly narcissistic behavior, she couldn’t be bothered to do so.

I feel like our world would function a lot better if we all made an effort to be more considerate of others around us. Just because you have a janitor who cleans the bathrooms at work doesn’t mean you can’t wipe down the splashed water on the counter with your own dirty paper towel. Just because you hate changing toilet paper rolls, it doesn’t mean you should leave it empty for the next person in the stall. If someone has their arms full, then by all means, take the extra few seconds to hold the door open for that person. And just because you had a long day at work and want to get home, it doesn’t mean you should leave your cart in a much needed disabled parking spot when it would only take you a few seconds longer to put it in the holding lane adjacent. By attempting to make another person’s life just a little easier, we can raise the vibrations of the world in a very powerful way. Compassion and friendliness go along way towards positive change.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

Recently the Universe has started throwing disability accommodation challenges at me again. When something like this happens, there is always a reason. However, like many people, I often have a hard time seeing what the Universe wants me to see, do or learn. Oftentimes challenges appear in our lives to get us to change our behavior and actions. In this case, I can’t stop being disabled, so that’s not exactly what the Universe is after. Sometimes the Universe wants us to confront the issue, but in this situation, I am well aware that I am disabled and the impact it has on my life. Sometimes the event is a bit of karma in action, teaching us that something we’re doing isn’t right. However, I strive to make my businesses as accessible to all people as possible, so I don’t feel like the way I treat others with disabilities is the problem.

At times being disabled feels like you’ve lost the Unpopular Discrimination Olympics. Right now in my social circles, gay rights are a hot issue. Transgender issues are as well. Discrimination on those fronts is loudly frowned upon. Discriminating against minorities is also a topic of frequent conversation and outrage. It’s not ok that young African-American men die at rates much higher than the rest of the population, and it’s also not ok that the schools and police treat Muslims of Middle Eastern origins differently than Caucasian Christians. I am totally in support of the outrage at injustice in our society. If you really want to get one of my social circles stirred up, talk about a breastfeeding mama being told to put her breasts away or cover up. The lactavist mamas come out in droves to support other mamas who were mistreated under Texas law.

And then there are the times when I post about disability discrimination, something I face at least monthly, often weekly, and yesterday, twice in one day from two different sources. That’s when the crickets chirp. The challenges of the disabled are not a popular cause at this moment in time. No one wants to acknowledge how widespread social prejudice is against the disabled. No one wants to believe that the disabled don’t get treated equally. 

Part of the "problem" with discussing disability discrimination is that it doesn't play into the cultural myth of the disabled in America. Our society doesn't want to know the reality behind life as a person with disabilities. Rather, what society wants to see is a person who has lost both their original legs yet has learned how to use prosthetics and wins marathons, defeating those who have their original two legs. They want a heart-warming hero story. The American public wants everything to be a pretty picture where good defeats evil. They don't want to acknowledge the reality of what that person with disabilities goes through before they learn to run marathons on prosthetic legs. Most of all, the public doesn't want to face the bitter truth that all it would take is one battle with cancer or one car accident, and they, too, could be that person with disabilities struggling to use prosthetics. 

People point to the ADA, the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) believing that it has made society fully accessible for the disabled. Just two months ago, President Obama gave a speech lauding the changes that have happened under the ADA in the past 25 years. He acknowledges that those with disabilities still don’t have equal employment opportunities, but that’s barely the tip of the iceberg of the problems those with disabilities face. As a person with a disability, I have to say that the ADA often feels like a lip service law, one that sounds lovely and politically correct but is actually powerless when it comes to making significant change. The reality is that many companies and businesses do not follow ADA regulations. Many government organizations don’t either; my problems have included the Social Security DISABILITY Office refusing to accommodate my disabilities even when it is entirely possible for them to do so at no additional cost and very little hassle. More often than not, when I seek disability accommodations, I have to mention the word “lawyer” or “lawsuit” before people will even entertain the idea of meeting my disability needs. That’s not what a society should look like where the ADA was truly embraced.

Since the Chinese New Year (February 21st for the event in question) of 2015, I’ve repeatedly experienced disability discrimination or difficulties. I have written drafts and outlines of the incidents that have happened, but I have not posted them on my blog. I’ve wanted to keep my blog from being a complaint center. I have wanted to keep it realistic but hopeful. I want people to see the positive side of what changes can happen when one is dedicated and works hard on their personal issues. Yet one thing I can’t directly change is the way others act in response to my disabilities. I can file complaints with various government organizations. I can leave negative Yelp reviews. But for all I can do, I can’t actually make people understand that their actions are discriminatory against the disabled unless they want to see how their actions and words hurt other people.

As I’ve asked my spirit guides what it is that the Universe wants me to do as these disability issues are resurfacing again, the only answer I have gotten is “change the obstacle.” I am working on healing my illness as fast as I can, but I have no idea how disabled my body will remain once the infections are gone from my body. Likewise, there are millions of other people in the world who can never change their disabilities as they are permanent barring major science breakthroughs or impossible miracles. Disabilities are not obstacles that can leave this planet. So I’m contemplating that “change the obstacle” means using my blog to bring social awareness to what I and many others face in the world as people with disabilities. Maybe it will help in some way to bring about some social change in the way that the disabled are treated. 

My daughter was recently looking through my junior high and high school yearbooks. I was healthy and pain free back then. In my senior yearbook, I was voted “the most likely to raise hell.” My daughter thought that was hysterical because it’s still true now. I’m not ok with standing by and letting injustices occur. I believe in speaking out, and I believe in changing what needs to be changed. I really do not want to be the central Texas disability discrimination coordinator. I don’t want to spend so much of my energy and time trying to overcome disability barriers. But if I don’t speak out about what I am encountering, no one is going to do it for me. When I write about and file reports about what I experience, it also sometimes helps others to say, “Hey! Me, too! I didn’t like that it was happening to me, but now I know I’m not alone and that this is not an ok situation.” The process of discussing it and of filing those complaints doesn’t feel so positive for me in the short term, though.

As a result of all of this, I’m starting a blog series for as long as it takes for me to write the blog posts about the discrimination I’ve encountered in the past year as I've begun functioning in society more often. I’m also going to try to balance it out with some posts about people who’ve been amazing in going above and beyond in helping to meet my needs. I hope that these posts help bring about change in some way. Selfishly, I also hope that they get the Universe to stop putting so many disability obstacles in my path!

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

When I first enrolled at UT as an undergrad, one of my hopes was to blend into the crowd. I had graduated from a class of 51 at a small Catholic girls' school that had about 600 students in grades pre-K through 12. Everyone seemed to know everything about what you didn't want them to know. At one point as a senior I went to the business office to drop off a tuition check, and the women working there commented on something going on in my life. I didn't know these women's names, but they knew what I thought were relatively private things about me.

Thus, I figured by enrolling in a university with approximately 50,000 students, I would be able to disappear into the crowd. Surely no one would know whom I was there. I took a few "weed out" classes my first semester: huge lecture sections which required students to perform well enough to survive the college experience. They were meant to fail those who couldn't handle advanced work in the future. My government class was one of them. It wasn't a class I wanted to take, but it was a degree requirement. After the first exam, we had to go up to the various TAs and claim our blue books. As I said my name to the TA who had my paper, she looked at me and said, "Oh. You got the highest grade on the exam." My response was not what the typical response would have been at that point. The one word that went through my head was "CRAP!" I wanted to blend into the crowd, not be easily identified by a TA who had never met me before. This was exactly what I had been hoping to avoid!

As I have gotten older, I have noticed something that has changed greatly in my world. I'm now an overweight, middle-aged and disabled woman. When I am attending events in person, I seem to disappear from the sight of those around me, especially middle-aged men. Some days I start to question if I am even visible even though I am pretty sure I am still in flesh and blood form. There's a popular story in natural healing communities about the arrival of Columbus' ships in the West Indies. Supposedly the only natives who could see the ships were the shamans. This was because the other natives were not used to seeing something that their mind could not identify. Rather than seeing the ships as something unusual or different, the natives saw nothing at all. While I'm skeptical about the authenticity of the story, it illustrates a powerful point: Some of us only see what we want to see. All other things disappear. Thus, as I am a woman who is not in my prime of beauty or fitness, parts of society would prefer not to see me and often try to avoid me.

I experienced this most recently at the event I attended last Friday night. I have attended this group once before about two years ago, I think. There are over 1000 members on this group's Facebook page, so it's not a small membership. I had forgotten that they have the awful custom of calling out newbies and focusing attention on them. While I realize that many people think this is a great way of recognizing and welcoming new members to make them feel wanted and to get them to return, for introverts it is often undesired attention. Once introverts have found the strength to attend a new group of people they don't know, the last thing they want is to be singled out for attention. However, one of the leaders asked during a momentary break who was new there that night. One of the young men was, and he was happy to engage with the leader. The leader then moved on to the man next to the new attendee who was someone who had not attended in a long time. After that, the leader looked around at the remaining people who happened to be all female and said, "All of you are regulars" or something to that effect. I was puzzled. While I was grateful not to have been singled out for attention, I was also surprised at how I had once again managed to disappear from the sight of this man. 

This is not an unusual occurrence in our society. There are many people whom our society would prefer not to see. The homeless, the disabled, and many minorities are at the top of the list. These groups make many feel uncomfortable. A lot of people think that by avoiding their gaze, these "undesirables" will vanish if not literally, at least long enough to pretend they don't exist. As an overweight, disabled, middle-aged woman, I've unfortunately experienced this "disappearing trick" many try to play with me in hopes that by avoiding my gaze, they won't have to admit that I am there. It's a sad state of affairs when our society wants to pretend that many people who are a part of our human family don't exist. Those people are there, and no matter how much you try to ignore them, they will not go away. The only thing individuals prove by diverting their gazes is that they have much personal work to do in the area of acceptance.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

One of our society’s common reactions to difficulties, struggles, and challenges is for people to respond, “At least….” So if you have had your foot amputated, a friend might tell you, “At least you didn’t lose your whole leg.” If you are struggling with finding a job, you might be told, “At least you still have a roof over your head.” If you were emotionally and sexually abused during a bad marriage, you might get told, “At least he didn’t beat you.” If you are suffering from health problems, you will  very likely get the statement, “At least you don’t have cancer.” If you experienced the death of a baby, someone might respond, “At least you won’t have to raise a severely disabled child for the rest of your life.” (Yes, I did get the last two personally.)

On one hand, there’s an element of truth in these statements that could lead a person to issue gratitude for what they do have rather than what they do not have. However, all of the statements are judgmental and opinionated. They deem to know better than the struggling person what would be worse for that person. To me at the time of my daughter’s death, the prospect of raising a severely disabled child seemed far less daunting than facing a future with no child at all.

Furthermore, this method of comparative trials can be devastating for those who are suffering with the “at least” situation. You may be telling your friend that they are blessed that their child died rather than ending up severely disabled, but what about all those who are raising severely disabled children? What is their comfort in this situation? What if someone has been physically abused? What about all of those people who do have cancer or who have lost multiple limbs or who are homeless? What does the “at least” statement that puts them in the worst case scenario do for their self-esteem, their confidence, and their motivation as they wrestle with difficult challenges in life?

It also can seem that when someone creates purportedly worse scenarios, their examples actually downplay the suffering that people have endured. Trauma is trauma, and all of it is devastating to those who are undergoing it. While it might seem comforting to some to pretend there is a worse case scenario, the reality is that the person undergoing challenges doesn’t need to hear those comparisons. What they need to hear is support for them in their own struggles. They need to come to terms with what they are dealing with, not what someone else has endured. What they need is not to be unintentionally judged for not suffering enough to merit sympathy or empathy.

The reality is that every human on this planet endures challenges and issues throughout their lives. Each of us has our own struggles, and each of us handles them differently. There really is that there is no better or worse when it comes to suffering. The reality is that the challenges we all endure are just different. The differences may lie in the type of trauma, the severity of the trauma, and the response of the individuals to the traumas. All of the various elements create unique situations. Each of the people involved must work through these struggles on their own but hopefully with a lot of support of those around them. As we work through these traumas, sometimes successfully and sometimes not, our souls grow and change. In my belief system, these are the struggles we are each meant to face to help us become the best people that we can be.

One of the hardest comments I had to endure in my time of being homebound and mostly bedbound was the statement from clueless people that they would think their lives were challenging until they looked at mine and then realized how much worse it could be. (Yes, they said this to me directly.) These people made me into the the worst case “at least” scenario, and they used my suffering to bring themselves dysfunctional comfort about their own struggles. That doesn’t feel great when you are the one at the bottom of the heap. Rather than making such awkward and painful comments to those you know who are struggling, the best thing to say is “I’m sorry you are struggling.” Or grieving. Or hurting. Or fighting for your life. Whatever it is that the person is enduring that you wish they didn’t have to go through, tell them that you wish they weren’t undergoing such a difficult challenge. Then, if you really want to show your support, ask them what you can do to make their burdens lighter during their time of need. Those are the kind of friends people need when they are in crisis.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(This post is based on an Advance Reader Copy of Upside won through Goodreads’ First Reads program.)

As I read through Upside: The New Science of Post-Traumatic Growth by Jim Rendon, I had plenty of thoughts that didn’t necessarily fit in my official review of the book. The book certainly prompted some thinking and questioning on my part; I always appreciate it when a book stimulates my brain cells. Some of these questions I’m asking probably haven’t been answered by studies yet, so I can’t fault the author for not including things that don’t yet exist! The following are some of those thoughts shared in a rather random order.

- It wasn’t until very late in Upside that a divorce was mentioned among the case studies of those who have undergone trauma. However, I suspect that this representation is not accurate. Chronic illness and PTSD were major contributions toward my divorce, and I know I’m not alone in that. I’d be curious as to what the actual divorce rate is among those who suffer from PTSD as well as what the divorce rate is among those who suffer from PTSD but have come to a place of positive growth. Further questioning would ask how many people saw their divorce as a part of their positive growth (as I definitely do).

- As I read the chapter on family support, I questioned, “What about those who didn’t have family support?” I would like to see a study of how support for patients with cancer compares to those with other illnesses. Because Rendon focused on cancer, he may not be aware that other diseases actually can cause families to abandon loved ones. This certainly was my situation with extended family, and again, it was a contribution to the end of my marriage. In my experience with late disseminated Lyme disease which is legally diagnosed as fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome, compassion and support was not overwhelming. In many cases, friends and extended family abandoned me and my family unit. One extended family member pointed out to me not so subtly that two other family members with type 1 diabetes and gallstones had REAL health problems (implying that mine were not significant, real and/or valid despite the fact that I was homebound and mostly bedbound at that point).

- While Rendon completely failed to discuss the problems surround childbirth and infant loss as they apply to women, he did devote a chapter to a group of dads who have lost children. This is a rare perspective that is often ignored in our culture, and I appreciate that he shared this reality with the world. Too often, men’s grief is poorly processed and disregarded contributing to the ongoing problem in our society of men who are out of touch with their emotions including grief.

- I felt like the chapter on religion and spirituality was one of the weakest. From what was written, I suspect that the author does not identify with religion or spirituality and may in fact be hostile towards them. I felt like he neglected the major differences between religion and spirituality, for they are two different things. It is very possible to be spiritual without being religious. I also wondered as I read the chapter how many people with PTSD experience a radical change in their beliefs or spirituality. In my life I went from being Catholic to being agnostic to experiencing PTSD and becoming highly spiritual without identifying with any religion (and in fact shunning most of them). I suspect I am not alone in this process of spiritual growth that is a part of personal growth with PTSD. This spiritual growth I experienced is a far different experience than someone becoming more vested in an established religion or turning to their pastor for counseling.

- Rendon argues that support groups are instrumental in the personal growth of individuals because they allow those with PTSD to be with those “who get it.” On one hand this is very true. However, I am curious about the reality of support groups for a wider population. I actually found that the pessimism and negativity of many support groups were pulling me down and were impeding my personal growth. They weren’t “better-informed optimists” as Rendon writes. Instead, they were people filled with unhealthy attitudes, bitterness, and often ignorance. I switched to digest for many online groups to avoid reading the posts of the worst offenders; some groups I left altogether. The two health related in-person groups I tried attending, one for those who had lost a baby and one for those who were chemically sensitive, I quickly left because the energy in them was awful. My better-informed optimism did not fit there. Thus, I would be curious about studies that showed that support groups actually have an ability to hamper personal growth rather than assist it. My experiences show that this is a potential reality.

- I cringed at the idea of 46 pills being a lot as Rendon dramatically presents when discussing a cancer patient. I currently take 14 Western medical pills per day plus 65 pill supplements, seven doses of liquid supplements, and a nebulizer treatment per day. At times my pill total has been well over 100 a day. This is what it has taken to get me functional and to continue to heal. I look forward to dropping back to “only” 46 pills and then the day when I need less than 20 per day to maintain my health. Again, if Rendon had talked to people with other health issues outside of cancer, his perspective would have been broadened and enlightened in many ways.

- Rendon has an implicit (and very valid in my opinion) judgment of how deficient psychological treatment is for soldiers and vets with PTSD. He also notes how others involved in other traumas also received very little or no psychotherapy as part of their recovery processes. It would be great to see what the studies show about why this happens other than the lack of funding for mental health care that is an endemic problem in our nation.

- I appreciated the way Rendon approached the topic of “gratitude as a way of life.” As I’ve noted in another blog post, gratitude is the only way I got through many days when my illness was at its worst. I think most people who have not undergone a major trauma understand what gratitude really is and what it can do for us.

- The chapter on activity and exercise as healing was very frustrating to me. I think this is a concept that is fairly well understood in our society as almost all less-than-informed healthcare practitioners I have worked with over the years have pushed exercise as one of the main solutions to healing. However, there is an important distinction between using exercise during a time of hellish illness and using it after one has regained significant health. Rendon discusses women who have survived breast cancer and now row together; he mentions but does not dwell on the fact that they could not have done this kind of activity when they were in the worst phases of their treatment. That distinction is very important for those undergoing health trauma because the overwhelming pressure to exercise when they are too sick to do so can be very emotionally defeating. As someone whose Lyme disease has caused chronic fatigue syndrome, I have had to deal with the conflict that exercise can actually cause more damage than good a great deal of the time, and our society does not seem to understand that because it is so pro-exercise as the cure to all that ails you.

- I really loved that Rendon stressed the importance of not pushing post-traumatic growth on those with PTSD. This book would have been devastating to read in the worst years of my illness; I was not ready to hear its message. I definitely would not give the book to someone who was at a point when they were at rock bottom. The lesson of “bitter blessings” is one that each person has to come to individually on their own time.

- When discussing one person who has survived brain cancer, Rendon reveals the very unhealthy brave face platitudes that are a very problematic part of emotional health in our society. However, Rendon doesn't expand on the problem that "the brave face" ideology creates in relation to PTSD. Rendon writes, “[The patient with brain cancer] maintained a brave face, but beneath it all he was terrified. ‘He never once said, “This really sucks,”’ said [his best friend]. ‘But you could see it in his eyes, you could see him thinking, Holy heck what am I going to do?’” Society expects those with chronic illness to hide behind those brave faces. They’re expected not to show the pain they’re in or the suffering they’re enduring. If they do show that illness, that fear, that pain, that loss, then they risk losing those around them who are unwilling or unable to deal with the realities of health challenges including the possibility of death. This only contributes to the issues surrounding PTSD when one is expected to put on a brave face but is actually falling apart inside.

- I would be curious to see studies about those who manage to achieve positive post-traumatic growth without most of the key items that Rendon cites as contributory factors. I am someone who is lacking in extended family support. I was isolated and alone because of my chemical sensitivities. I was the person whom others looked at and said, “It doesn’t get much worse than that.” Yet somehow I have grown in ways I never would have believed possible. I wonder how other characteristics such as personality and intelligence factor in for those whom growth seemed to be unlikely to happen even according to the standards Rendon establishes.

- Finally, in the last paragraphs of Upside, Rendon writes, “And given that they came so close to death, that they lost so many things they once took for granted, they understand on a much deeper level, in a much more informed way, what it means to be alive.” This association of PTSD with facing death is a flawed one, and it’s something that contributes to a large portion of people enduring PTSD not seeking appropriate help in my opinion. Our society erroneously interprets PTSD to mean former soldiers or those whose lives were endangered. Yet as Rendon demonstrates throughout the book, for many people, PTSD does not result from a life threatening event. I would have added a clause to this sentence about how “some have come so close to death.”

(I do have another upcoming blog post motivated by Upside that I will link to once it publishes.)

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

(I am reviewing an Advance Reader Copy of this book won through Goodreads’ First Reads program.)

I came to Upside: The New Science of Post-Traumatic Growth by Jim Rendon as a woman who has endured PTSD caused by multiple sources: abuse, childbirth, health trauma, and if you believe in past lives, World War II. I have been able to achieve major healing with most of my wounds through alternative therapies; conventional therapy was only serving to retraumatize me. Yet as someone with a Ph.D., I have a great deal of respect for science and the advances it can help bring. Rendon's work questions why so many people who have endured traumas and PTSD are able to come to a place of positive growth through examining the influence of personal narratives, community support, honest communication, optimistic thinking, religion, creative outlets, physical exercise, fellow sufferers, and therapy. The studies and examples Rendon cites demonstrate that these factors can all contribute to a lifelong positive change.

Rendon’s work is firmly grounded in scientific studies which demonstrate how trauma can lead to growth. The book is well-researched, fluently integrated and easy to read. Rendon’s writing style makes academia accessible to the general public. Despite the heavy topic, I breezed through Upside much quicker than I read most nonfiction books. The stories Rendon relates about others who have suffered traumas are painful to read, but only one was horrifying to me because of the explicit violence it contains. (For those who are highly sensitive like me, I recommend skipping the details in the last chapter on Jake Harriman's trauma, an event that occurred in the war in Iraq.)

Rendon was drawn to the topic of post-traumatic growth because his father was a Holocaust survivor; he makes no indication of having endured major trauma in his own life either explicitly or implicitly. There were times where I felt his text would have benefited from an extra reading and feedback before publication by those who have lived through trauma themselves because Rendon’s perspective sometimes doesn’t quite grasp the full reality. However, for the most part, Rendon does an excellent job of vividly relating the pain and the growth that his subjects experienced. He also gives one of the best summaries I’ve read about how PTSD creates a hypersensitive response in individuals whose “fight or flight” response is perpetually in overdrive. The first few chapters of the book could be incredibly helpful to someone trying to understand their loved one’s new reactions to the world.

If one were to survey the trauma-inducing events that Rendon discusses in detail, one would conclude that trauma is caused by cancer, accidents, warfare, and natural disasters. I realize that Rendon had limited space in his book, but he chose to relate cancer patient after cancer patient’s experience. This is typical of our culture which actually creates additional trauma for those who aren’t enduring cancer: they are second class citizens in the world of medical trauma. This blog post discusses how Lyme patients like me are abandoned by friends and medical practitioners in their search for health while simultaneously being told, “At least it isn’t cancer.” By not addressing other illnesses beyond cancer and accidents, Rendon contributes to the cultural mythologies of what illnesses “should” look like.

My largest complaint about Upside is that it contains a blatant disregard for women’s traumas. It was not until chapter five that Rendon discussed a female case study; from there on, women were mentioned fairly regularly in the book. However, Rendon does not discuss a single case of rape, sexual harassment, or abuse in detail. These are major causes of trauma, but they are barely mentioned in passing and there are no specific examples of them in the text. Most frustrating to me was how Rendon described trauma from childbirth: “People can be traumatized from the happiest of situations: childbirth.” While on one level this is a true statement, on another level it shows a total lack of understanding for the epidemic proportioned reality of what most women still endure during childbirth in our nation. There are two primary times when no doesn’t mean no: when a woman is being raped or when she is in labor. Had Rendon taken the time to talk with women who have experienced what is known as “birth rape” in some circles or tbose who have lost their babies, he would not have made such a flippant comment about the joy of childbirth, and the trauma around childbirth would likely have merited more than a few brief paragraphs in this work.

I will definitely recommend Upside to many clients, primarily the family members and friends of those enduring traumas around war, cancer, or accidents. I will also recommend it to individuals who, as Rendon notes in the text, have already come to the recognition on their own that their traumas can serve for positive growth. The book would serve well in a college classroom of psychology, medical, nursing or social work students trying to begin to understand trauma. However, for those who are dealing with childbirth trauma, rape, or abuse, Upside is not necessarily the best place to find information about healing.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

One of the quickest ways to piss me off is to tell me directly or indirectly that my pain is not real. I’ve spent the past 12+ years living in chronic pain. I don’t function in the world in the way most people can because of that pain and the associated disabilities that come along with it. No part of my life has been untouched because of what I have endured. Yet despite knowing I am a much happier and better person now than I was 12 years ago, I wouldn’t wish the hell I’ve been through on anyone; the only exception to that is when someone tells me that my pain doesn’t exist. Then I would like those people to spend a month in my body. I would bet you anything that when they came out of my body after having spent a month literally walking (or unable to walk at all on some days) in my shoes, they would be singing a very different tune.

Today, I managed to let someone push this button of mine yet again. In a discussion about the overprescription of antidepressants in our society on Facebook, I put up a links to blog post I had written that talks about Lyme patients being erroneously misdiagnosed as depressed and put on antidepressants rather than the physicians actually looking for the real problem. I also linked another post I had written about how depression is sometimes caused by issues beyond brain chemistry but that most Western doctors are ignorant of those other causes. One of the people involved in the discussion, clearly not my lifelong friend, immediately responded that chronic Lyme does not exist and there’s no scientific proof that it does. Wow. You mean like this recently released study from a researcher at Northeastern University talking about the biological mechanism through which borrelia burgdorferi survives the standard antibiotic doses recommended by the CDC? That kind of evidence?

This is the point at which I hit the block button on Facebook. I have a zero tolerance policy for people who will directly attack me or my life. If you want to believe differently than I do, that’s your choice, but don’t tell me directly and rudely that my diagnosis doesn’t exist and that the pain I’m in isn’t real. What was most stupefying to me was that this person stated that she has a mental illness that requires antidepressants. I would bet that at some point at her life she has been told that she just needs to pull herself up by her bootstraps and she’ll be fine. Mental illnesses are still not accepted by our society, and they are poorly understood. However, that doesn’t give this woman the right to turn around and tell others their diseases don’t exist either. Compassion to all who are suffering is appropriate even if you don’t agree with their diagnosis or choice of medical treatment.

The cyberbullying that our culture continues to foster in this regard is amazing. So many people believe that they are anonymous on the internet. They don’t have a problem spewing hateful words and demeaning obscenities at total strangers. Somehow the internet creates a situation that causes people to forget their basic manners. Most of the time strangers are polite to each other in public, but the internet removes that civility and results in a great deal of anger and pain.

Last week on The Bachelorette: The Men Tell All, host Chris Harrison and bachelorette Kaitlyn Bristowe addressed the problem of cyberbullying. Bristowe has made choices that not everyone agrees with this season, and she has been the recipient of a lot of vitriolic criticism as a result. During the show last week, Harrison read some of the worst of the tweets that Bristowe has received including death threats. As he read the tweets (with the usernames blacked out to protect the not-so-innocent), Bristowe’s eyes filled with tears. A great number of the comments on Twitter at that point were in support of The Bachelorette’s decision to address cyberbullying. However, many were not. Even some people whom I usually find to be fairly level-headed and rational disparaged the decision to discuss this topic. I read quite a few attacks on Harrison for “torturing” Bristowe by reading those comments out loud. From what I can tell of Harrison, he is a genuinely nice guy who did not pull this discussion about cyberbullying out of thin air. I’m positive he had Bristowe’s consent before he started especially based on the quiet comments he made to her as they went to commercial break. Bristowe’s genuine tear-filled response was important for America to see even if (or especially because) it makes us uncomfortable. Those users on the internet whom the cyberbullies are attacking have real feelings and real emotions. The tears and pain are real, too. The mere fact that so many people bristled against this discussion shows how desperately it is needed. If television stars and societal leaders aren’t willing to speak up against this kind of bullying behavior, change will be much slower in bringing about its end.

I’ve mentioned before that I left online dating, tired of the rude behavior and horrid comments about overweight women. What was clear to me in the world of online dating and again today on Facebook is that cyberbullying is real. Compassion is sorely lacking on the internet. Our world is full of so many wonderful reasons for living, and the internet brings about so much positive change in the world in ways that couldn’t have happened before its existence. It is long past time for that change to include an end to discriminatory words, hateful posts, and demeaning responses. We can be better than this as a society.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

Two weeks ago, I was watching a suggested YouTube video featuring psychic medium John Edward on a recent trip to Australia. As I watched, I thought about how I had wanted to attend a John Edward event in the past, but my health and others had prevented me from going. The first year that I wanted to go, I allowed another intuitive empath to talk me out of going. She had been to see him during one of his previous trips to Austin. She thought she had shielded herself well, but the energy from all of the people who were so desperate to hear from deceased loved ones as well as the energy of the souls was just too much for her, and she ended up spending the night vomiting from all of the metaphysical stress.

The second year that I wanted to go, I allowed another psychic to talk me out of going. He said that he was horribly disappointed and got nothing out of it when he went. Since I trusted him, I decided that it wasn’t worth the expense of going. I regretted that decision.

As I watched this video two weeks ago, I realized that my health was now in a place that I could attend a John Edward event, and this time, I wasn’t going to let anyone talk me out of it because the desire to go was still so strong for me. I went to John Edward’s website and discovered that his next event was actually in Austin on July 9th! I was amazed at the synchronicity of this and decided it was finally meant to be. I purchased a ticket and then contacted the ticket agency to help me with disability accommodation arrangements under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).

There, my disappointment began. The first request was met with an absolute “we won’t meet your disabilities” type response; I was offered a refund. I was horrified. The ADA doesn’t allow this kind of blatant discrimination against the disabled, and yet, everywhere I turned this week, I’ve found disability discrimination. I tried again with the ticketing agency who were acting as a middleperson with John Edward’s staff; the second response was better but still was clear that they were not willing to work with me. Feeling emotionally defeated, I contacted my guides and decided to accept the refund. I just didn’t have it in me to fight for the chance to see John Edward.

After the refund processed, I sent the following note through John Edward’s website. I don’t expect to hear back from Edward himself; I expected that an intern or administrative assistant would receive it and send me a form letter telling me that it would be taken into consideration (and then probably discarded without action or change, though they wouldn’t say that to me). To my disappointment, I have not gotten any kind of response, though. I remain disheartened that a psychic medium who focuses on healing clients could possibly allow his organization to discriminate against those who are disabled.

**

To John Edward:

I am aware that at this point, you do not run the day-to-day issues with your business. However, as your business is selling your name and your reputation, I feel you should be aware of my experiences with those you employ or subcontract with.

I was disabled at the age of 28 in 2003; For 12+ years, I’ve dealt with severe health problems which left me homebound for many years. I’ve been able to regain health over the past few years and am now able to function in society with minimal accommodations. I am not able to stand for extended amounts of time: the line at the grocery store is about all I can handle. As I can usually walk short distances without issues, I don’t use a wheelchair. I have a state issued disabled placard for the days when walking is more difficult. I am also very sensitive to fragrances. When I am in public, I have to avoid those wearing perfume, cologne, etc. I also can’t tolerate cigarette smoke residue. This means that if someone has one of these items on them, I have to move away. It’s a relatively minor hassle in the perspective of life.

When I purchased my ticket to your Austin event, I requested disability assistance through Etix. I asked that my message be passed on to the appropriate people on your staff so that I could have direct contact with them. I’ve learned from past experience that trying to arrange disability accommodations through a third party results in a less than entertaining version of the “telephone game.” Etix refused to get me directly connected with a member of your staff who is in charge of handling individuals who need disability accommodation. They insisted on continuing to be the middleperson. The result was confusion and an initial refusal to accommodate my disabilities at all. The second round resulted in a slightly better response but it was still far from satisfactory. At that point, I decided that I wasn’t going to keep fighting with your staff. I just don’t have the emotional energy to engage in this issue this week. I accepted a refund and the fact that I was not going to be welcomed at your event.

From a karmic viewpoint, I am certain that you can understand that not meeting the needs of the disabled is not a great idea. Basic compassion for those who are challenged is often lacking in our society, but it is not something I would expect from your organization.

From a legal standpoint, I am sure as a former hospital administrator you can understand that your staff’s immediate “No, we won’t work with you” response was illegal under the Americans with Disabilities Act. The ADA exists for good reason, though I’ve found that I often have to mention the “L” word of lawyer or lawsuit before most organizations will even consider providing disabilities. I don’t like having to use that word; I’d prefer people functioned from a place of compassion and understanding.

I am requesting that you designate a disability contact on your staff for your events that are on the road. I am asking that any time someone with a disability requests assistance in attending your events that the designated staff person responds directly to the individual with disabilities and does their best to ensure that the person with disabilities has a positive experience in gaining access to your events.

The irony of this all is that I wasn’t coming to your Austin event hoping to receive a reading. I clearly set the intention when I purchased the ticket that I not be read because I know others need to have the experience far more than me. If I want to talk to the other side, I can do that for free from the comfort and convenience of my own home. I am having a hard time articulating why I wanted to attend, but it is somewhere along the lines of wanting to observe your energy while you work as well as the energy around you. My guides assure me that the result of failing to get accommodation to your event is part of a greater life lesson, but at this point I’m not sure what it is yet.

I hope that your brief stay in Austin is a good one and that the event will bring healing to many people.

Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D.
Green Heart Guidance, LLC
Austin, Texas

The people who don’t want me to heal are some of the most fascinating people for me to observe in my life but simultaneously one of the most difficult for me to experience. The closer I get to completely regaining my health, the more I see various individuals trying to deny my improvements. As with many challenges, the reactions of others towards my healing says more about them than about me. Their responses are not something that I take personally even though they seem to be directed toward me on a surface level.

There’s one group of people who refuse to allow me to heal because of their particular mindset. They continue to insist that I am highly incapacitated and am unable to do things that I am actually now able to do. While in the past my poor health limited my abilities, healing has allowed me to regain what I have lost. So even as I am attending events and participating in activities that I previously could not, these people around me continue to insist that I am not able to do so.

I’ve had to ask myself why these people won’t believe the evidence in front of them that I am healing. I’ve found a few different reasons. The first subgroup of people who refuse to believe that I am healing are others with chronic illnesses. For them, it is understandably frustrating that I am no longer sicker than they are. They see my progress and healing and outpacing their own recovery, and jealousy fills them. I used to be the one whom they would look at and say, “Thank heavens my health isn’t that bad!” Now that I have been able to heal in ways they haven’t, they can no longer console themselves by seeing me as beneath them. They are having to shift their world views because of my healing, and that’s too much for most of them to handle. Hence, they refuse to admit my life and health have changed.

The other subgroup who can’t accept my healing are those around me who have used my illness to define whom they are. They need me to be sick in order to be my caretaker, my hero, my healer. If am better, they no longer are needed in that same capacity, and therefore their self-definitions must change. This is simply too much for many people to handle. They’re set in their ways and roles. They don’t want to grow and change along with me. Unfortunately, that’s resulted in me having to leave some of these people behind as I move forward.

The last group is the most puzzling group to me. They are people who are very open-minded, very smart, and very important in my life. However, they’ve defined me as ill or disabled for so long that they have forgotten that I can change. They try to peg me into this role even when I’ve healed beyond it. I’ve been able to call many of these people out on their behavior toward me, and most of them are unaware they are even doing it. Once I’ve pointed out to them how they are treating me, most choose to evolve and allow me to be a healthy person.

My experiences in healing and recovery are one of the reasons I adamantly believe that individuals should not define themselves by their illness and/or disability. If their lives change in any way and they lose that part of their self-definition, it can be a huge challenge in living with whom they truly are. Fortunately my battle with Lyme and its associated troubles has forced me to figure out who I actually am. That person is not someone who is defined by the malleable parts of me including disability, and I refuse to allow others to define me in any similarly unhealthy way if they want to remain in a relationship with me. Were I to have defined myself through the illness that I experienced and if I had let others force me to believe that I couldn’t heal because of their personal needs for me to be ill, then my chances of recovery would have been close to nil. Instead, I was able to overcome a terrible uphill battle because I understood that I was not my illness. I am an amazing soul who had to face the challenge of a major illness in order to find my true self, but that illness is not whom I am at my core. All of us are much more than the challenges we face in life. 

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance, LLC

When one struggles with major health issues, especially ones that have been as life changing as the ones I have faced courtesy of late disseminated Lyme disease, one learns to find the bitter blessings in places that one never would have previously found them. When faced with struggles and challenges, the silver lining almost always seems to be present if you can set your mind to find it. It’s that ability to see the “little” things that can make it possible to accomplish what seem like insurmountable difficulties on a daily basis. Those challenges include simple outings that most wouldn’t see as a big deal at all.

Earlier this week, my Bachelor/ette watching buddy in New York and I were alerted to a book signing with Chris Harrison, the host and one of the producers of the show, from our favorite blog on the show. The Barnes and Noble bookstore in Austin at which it was being held is only ten minutes from my house. As we messaged back and forth, my friend helped me get the enthusiasm to face the possibly insurmountable challenge of attending Wednesday night. Quite honestly, if the treatment I am undergoing right now hadn’t hit a breakthrough point on Monday, I couldn’t have gone; last week it would have been impossible. Next week it might be impossible again, but on Wednesday at around 5 pm, I realized my health was actually going to allow me to do this.

However, I’ve had false starts with many events in the past. I don’t get my hopes up until I am actually engaged in the event. I know all too well that it could all fall apart before I get there due to health-based logistical complications. Furthermore, I haven’t attended an indoor event with a large crowd of random people in a chemically saturated environment since 2004. That’s 11 years. The last time I walked in a bookstore was also probably in 2004. While I’ve been able to do much more over the past two years than I previously could, especially than in the six years that I was homebound and the two that I was almost bedbound, I still had no idea if my body was going to be able to handle it. I was worried about parking (because anyone who lives in north Austin can tell you that the parking lot at the Arboretum is weird and often overcrowded). I was concerned about too large of a fragrant crowd wearing perfumes that my body can’t tolerate, and I worried about the store itself being more than my chemical sensitivities could handle. As a result, I took my grocery list with me since Whole Foods is only a few blocks away. Then, if I had to leave without attending the book signing, I would not feel like the effort of getting dressed and heading out was a complete loss. I’ve learned from past events that this is one of the things I need to do to find a silver lining when an event falls through for me.

When I arrived at the parking lot, all of the five or six disabled spots were taken, but someone walked up to his car in one of them as I pulled up. I offered gratitude to whatever higher powers gave me the closest possible parking spot and headed in hoping that was a sign of good things to come. It was. I was able to tell from the parking lot and the noise level when I walked in the store that the crowd was not huge; at that point it was probably only 50 people though by the end of the night it was likely closer to 125. Feeling confident, I bought a copy of The Perfect Letter, and then headed to the second floor area where the signing was taking place. Here I met the first challenge of the evening: The escalators to the second floor were either broken or turned off. So I was left with a choice: Either walk to the far end of the store where the elevator is and then traverse back to the gathering area, or climb the escalators manually. Which was least taxing on my body? Since my knees weren’t in bad shape last night, I opted for climbing the escalator which my body handled.

Upon reaching the second floor balcony area, I faced the next major challenge: There were no more available chairs. It was already standing room only with about ten people mulling around. Given the pain and issues in my lower half of my body right now, standing right now for more than about five minutes is a physical impossibility for me. I approached an employee, let her know that I am disabled, and verified that it was ok to just sit on the floor. I’ve been at other events at other locations in the distant past where employees get very snippity about fire marshall rules and not sitting: SRO means literally standing. However, this employee didn’t seem to care, so I sat next to a bookcase where I could get partial back support. In retrospect, I wish I’d brought my backjack, but it’s a lesson learned for similar future events I might attend. At past points in my life, I would have been very self-conscious about the fact that I was the only person sitting on the floor, but after so many years of bodily limitation, I’ve learned to do what I need for my body and ignore any judgment, verbal or nonverbal, that comes my way.

After Chris Harrison spoke for an hour, the area was rearranged for the actual book signing which was done in order of wristband grouping. I was somewhere in the middle of the crowd, but there was no way I could stand in the line to wait. I approached the employee who was the gatekeeper for things, let her know my situation, and asked if I could go sit in a chair until it was my turn. She was quite friendly and willing to accommodate; I know she’d seen me sitting on the floor through the earlier part of the event. When my group got to the front of the line, I let her know that I was willing to wait until the end of that group if she would just call me up when it was my turn. Most mercifully, she immediately plopped me at the front of the line at that point since I’m guessing my face was starting to show my pain and fatigue levels at that point. I got my photo (above) and my book signed and headed out, walking back down the escalators.

The recovery process began when I got to my car as I had to just sit there for a few minutes and let my body decompress from the work it had just done for me. Once I got home, I began doing the things I have to do to support my liver in detoxification to ensure that I wouldn’t get a migraine or a fibromyalgia flare from the event.  By the time I headed to bed two hours later, my body was very cranky about what I had put it through, though after an hour of in ice pack on the worst pain, I was able to fall asleep. The next morning my body was very sore, but I can’t tell how much of the pain I have was from the event and how much was from the therapeutic treatments I had on Wednesday morning.

So after all that, was it worth it? Absolutely. I picked a great speaker for my return to book events. It’s not always the case that someone who is a good author or a great tv star makes an equally entertaining public speaker, but in this case, Chris Harrison is just as successful in front of a crowd as he is in front of the camera. I never know how much other people perceive of what I pick up on, but to me, it seemed as though Harrison was actually a bit nervous for the first few minutes as he began talking. By the time he switched to the question and answer part of the evening, Harrison was totally in his element. The fabulous sense of humor that we see glimpses of on The Bachelor/ette came through loud and clear as he talked extemporaneously on whatever topics the crowd quizzed him on. Harrison also maintains a grounded sense about him despite the circles he travels in. When he discusses people such as Matthew McConaughey or Nicholas Sparks, he isn’t dropping names or showing off. He’s just talking about the guys he’s spent some time with.

The evening was filled with a great deal of laughter, and I felt like I came away from it with a better understanding of the behind the scenes efforts that go into making The Bachelor/ette. I would have loved to engage with Harrison about a few of the issues I have with the show, but given that I was on the floor in the back and that I know my questions aren’t the typical ones, I just chose to enjoy others’ questions instead. I was thoroughly engaged for the entire evening. If I’d had to pay an admission price beyond the optional buying of a book, it would have still been worth it. An evening with Chris Harrison makes for fabulous entertainment!

Part of why I enjoy The Bachelor/ette so much is because of the allure of the travel. The idea of international or even domestic travel is still a fantasy in my life, so watching others enjoy their travels gives me hope for when I am able to travel as well. Even though attending this book signing might seem like a small step toward travel to most, my closest friends recognize what a huge step forward it was for me in the long journey of my recovery. As part of that slow movement forward, I find great pleasure in rediscovering the world around me that I haven’t been able to engage with for so long. I would bet money that I was the only one at the book signing who found incredible awe and pleasure in the setting. Seeing so many books on the shelves was a truly amazing sight for me, almost as though I had never walked in a bookstore before. I am so grateful for this illness-induced perspective on life that lets me find the wonder in things that most people wouldn’t think twice about. This awe for our society and the world around us is one of the things I hope that I carry away from living with chronic illness and keep with me for the rest of my life.

UPDATE 5/28/15: I sent this post to the manager at this location of Barnes and Noble who was in charge of the event. He responded quickly and politely, apologizing for the first bookseller who did not follow the proper procedure for helping the disabled; he will be addressing the issue with her so that she is fully informed for future events. He let me know that there are always additional seats held back for situations like mine so that I should not have needed to sit on the floor. He also explained that the store has wheelchairs available for helping to get customers to the second floor area, a courtesy I would not have expected. Finally, he said that the escalators are always turned off for events like this because of noise issues but that they are easily turned on and off at a moment's notice for a situation like mine. I appreciate all of this information so that any future experiences I have at that store will be much more accessible for me.

© 2015 Elizabeth Galen, Ph.D., Green Heart Guidance

For the longest time, I would not accept that I needed a disabled parking placard.  I rarely went anywhere, and when I did, I was usually able to find close parking.  However, that all changed when my Lyme doctor moved into a medical complex for which most of the parking was on the next block.  I quickly got him write the prescription for the permit.  Years later, another friend with Lyme taught me to quit looking at it as disabled parking but instead to refer to it as “rock star parking.”  The humor of that idea makes the need for the permit a little easier to accept.

I am now truly grateful for that permit as it enables me to save precious energy and limit my pain. The city of Austin also offers extra benefits to those with disabled permits including free parking and no time limits at any city parking meters.  However, those benefits are often negated by the fact that parking is not available. The city does have disabled parking spots scattered around downtown, but they’re rarely where I need them to be.  In one location, there are five disabled spots all clustered together on one block with no important buildings on it—in other words, inconveniently located.  I’ve also had times where the nearest parking I can find is four or six blocks away from where I want to go, and since walking even a block can be difficult for me, that’s not close enough.  I end up having to go home without attending the event I wanted to go to.

The same is true at many big public events such as those held at Zilker Park or various farmers’ markets.  It’s clear that those planning the events assume that all who are disabled are in motorized wheelchairs or have people to push them in their wheelchairs.  They don’t realize that many of those who are disabled are mobility impaired without a wheelchair. Even though they provide the closest parking for the disabled, it’s still not close enough at some events.  It means those events are inaccessible for me.

Murphy’s law dictates that there is sometimes a surplus of disabled parking spots when there are no other parking spots to be found such as at a shopping center.  However, there never seem to be enough at Whole Foods when I am at the downtown store, the Gateway store, or at the Domain. 

I’ve also run into major problems with not enough disabled parking at one of my doctors’ offices.  When I have appointments there that are after 8 a.m., I often cannot find flat surface parking, and the building is situated on one of the few hills in Austin.  That means that if I can’t find a flat surface spot, disabled or not, I can’t park my car and I can’t get in to my appointments.  I’ve asked the building management to add additional spots, but I was ignored.  As a result, I contacted the Texas Department of Licensing and Regulation to discover that any medical building built since 2012 or which has performed any sort of renovation on the facility since 2012 is required to designate 20% of their parking as disabled.  Individuals can file a complaint with TDLR to start an investigation into violations.  Unfortunately, however, the grandfathering clause on this code means that many medical buildings are exempt from this requirement.

So why is this lack of disabled parking a growing problem?  I’ve rarely seen abuse of disabled parking spots in terms of those without permits using them.  I’ve also never seen offenders ticketed for parking illegally despite the hefty fines they would face if caught, so I’m sure that does motivate some people to abuse the system.

I think the larger problem is with the aging baby boomer population which is increasing the number of individuals who genuinely need disabled parking, yet the laws are not being changed to increase the number of spots available.  I also think there are doctors who will liberally dispense placards without justification merely because patients ask.  Furthermore, in Texas, each disabled individual can get two placards at a time when no person really needs more than one:  I used to easily move my only one between our two cars when my ex-husband and I still lived together.  By distributing an extra placard to each disabled person, the system is setting up an easy way to commit fraud.  Disabled parking permits definitely have a black market value:  One friend had her car broken into and the only thing stolen was her placard.  Even if individuals don’t sell their extra placard, they could illegally gift it to a friend.  While one is required to provide ID showing that the permit is his/hers/hirs if questioned by an officer, I’ve never seen this happen, either.

Disabled parking is vital to those of us with chronic and extreme health issues.  I’m grateful it exists.  However, it’s a far from perfect system that needs a great deal of updating and revision to keep up with the changing demands of our current world.

© 2015 Green Heart Guidance

 (As always, I am not a medical doctor.  This information is based on my personal experiences and should not be substituted for medical diagnosis or treatment.  Please speak to your health care providers about your personal situation.)

My introduction to yoga came when I was pregnant with my first baby.  My midwife asserted that the women who took yoga classes did the best during labor; that was enough to motivate me to sign up for really wonderful hatha prenatal yoga classes with a fabulous instructor.  I loved yoga and did it through my twin pregnancy as well as some postpartum yoga.   And my midwife was right:  The techniques I learned in prenatal yoga were fare more useful for me during labor than those I learned in my Bradley childbirth class.

More recently in my life as I was trying to raise myself up out of my chronic illness, my chiropractor started encouraging me to meditate daily.  I was open to the idea, so one day I laid down in shavasana and tried.  I couldn’t do it.  The only thing I could think was, “I need to do yoga first before I can do this.”  So I found the video reviewed here on Netflix streaming (no longer available), and I began.  I was quite pleased with what I had found in this video that was at exactly the right level for me and my physical restrictions.  My chiropractor was thrilled that I had not only begun meditating but had gone back to yoga as well.  He didn’t mean to accomplish quite so much in one try!

The video I discovered was Healing Yoga for Aches and Pains by Lisa Bennet Matkin and Charles Matkin.  In addition to currently being available for short term rental on Amazon Instant Video, the cheapest place I found it for purchase on the web is Target.  There are also more expensive copies on Amazon and Ebay. 

The video is designed for individuals with mobility impairment.  It presents some very common yoga asanas (positions) that have been adapted to make them easier for someone who is physically weak or in pain.  One does need to be able to stand, sit, and lay on the floor, or you could skip that particular section if you can't get into those positions.  A yoga mat is recommended but not required; one also needs a chair to work with, though I’ve used the footboard on my bed for parts of it.   Many times the instructors in the video refer to people with arthritis, but I think the video is great for fibromyalgia or Lyme, both of which I have.   The video is really low key and isn’t suitable for someone who is in prime physical condition, but for those of us with limitations, it can be perfect.

If you have never done yoga before, I’d recommend starting with a private tutor or classes before using a video; then you can use the video instead of or to supplement classes.  I recommend starting with an instructor so that you can learn how the positions are supposed to work so that you don’t hurt yourself.  Yoga may look easy, but it’s actually quite strenuous at times, and it is possible to hurt yourself.  Case in point:  The first time I watched this video, I went into a lunge, something I could easily do when I was healthy.  A split second after I started the asana, I had the thought, “My knees can’t handle this,” and I collapsed to the floor as one of my knees gave out.  Fortunately, it wasn’t anything my chiropractor couldn’t fix easily, but it illustrates my point.  If you’ve got a particular weakness in your body, learning the dangers first is really important to preventing injury.

My only complaint about the video is that the shavasana (or relaxation) at the end is way too short.  I’d like to have at least 15-20 minutes of instrumental music available at the end to extend my meditation period.  I’ve worked around this by hitting pause on the DVD and hitting play on a music machine (iPod, CD player, etc.) of some sort that I have sitting nearby.

One of the advantages to doing a yoga video at home is the that the hotter I get, the more I can just take off clothes.  While there is an all-male naked yoga studio in Austin, that’s not really my thing for many reasons!  If I’m stripping, I want to be in the privacy of my own home.  The video also allows me to pause it if I need a break or if I need to go to the bathroom.  I can start whenever I feel up to it, and I can stop when my body says it’s done.  While it doesn’t have the benefit of socialization with others and the added instructor guidance, for someone who is homebound and disabled, this video offers a way to partake in yoga.

© 2014 Green Heart Guidance

I am disabled.  It took a long time for me to accept that and to be able to say it without a second thought.  Now it’s as easy for me to say as, “I am 40,” or “I have three living children.”  However, I am one of many who have invisible disabilities.  That means that people look at me and say, “But you look healthy.”  Looks can be very deceiving.  You can’t usually see the pain that is wracking someone’s body unless it’s acute rather than chronic.

When people ask me how I am doing, I will sometimes answer honestly and say, “I’m not doing well at all,” and for most people, that’s not the answer they want to hear.  They want to hear that everything is hunky-dory.  So their response is often, “Well, you look great.”  That’s not very helpful, and sometimes it’s hurtful because it feels like they are trying to negate what I just said about feeling terrible.  It also feels disingenuous to me on a very basic level:  I’ve also gained almost 100 pounds due to my illness, and that doesn’t ever look or feel good to me.  The “you look great” response feels like a platitude.

The better answer when someone says they aren’t feeling well is to acknowledge their pain.  It’s best to reply to them, “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.  Is there anything I can do to help you out?  I’m happy to listen (or run errands or whatever you can do).”  If you’re not prepared to respond in a compassionate way, then it’s really best you not even ask the question of how someone is doing.

© 2014 Green Heart Guidance

For most humans, our instinct is to be independent.  For those who are parents, we see this starting in our children starting at a very young age.  By the time most kids are two, they are very determined to do almost everything by themselves, a frustration for parents who don’t want to be slowed down by toddlers whose skills don’t match their desires for independence.

Our society promotes that independence as well.  The Protestant work ethic which is engrained in our nation’s consciousness dictates that everyone should work long and hard to achieve financial, career and social success.  Strength is rewarded; the weak fall to the bottom of the heap.  Darwinism confirms it.

Beyond those messages, the broader ideas of feminism have shaped many of us as we came of age.  Feminism taught us that women don’t need men to be whole people.  Women don’t need to be dependent on men. Women can do anything they set their minds to.

Except when they can’t.

All of us need help at times.  When our arms are full, we generally don’t cringe at the idea of someone holding a door for us:  We generally appreciate it.  But what happens when we need someone to hold that door open for us all the time because our arms are too weak to open heavy doors? What happened to the idea of the independent, able-bodied woman who didn’t need a man (or any other person) to open doors for her?

For many people, the aging process can be scary, and elderly people are downright terrifying.  Aside from fears of death, the general fear of the elderly is in part because it is so hard for us to see the decline of those we love.  We remember those people as able-bodied providers who took care of us when we were young.  They could do anything, or so we thought.  And now that they are older, it’s unbelievably hard to watch that role change.  For those who are losing their ability to care for themselves, unless they’ve lost their cognitive abilities along the way, it’s a very defeating situation to require so much help.

Most of us accept that the elderly need help despite our discomfort with it.  Yet very few of us really imagine that in our twenties we might be disabled and require assistance at a similar level.  Asking for help can become a very big challenge.  One is still youthful but no longer independent.  Suddenly help is necessary for almost everything in life. 

For me, during the worst years of my disability, I was unable to go grocery shopping or shopping at all for that matter.  I didn’t enter a store for six years.  When I finally was able to go back into Whole Foods for a brief trip, it was such an amazing wonderland.  I still have weeks when I don’t have the energy to handle a trip through Whole Foods and have to get someone else to do it for me.  Even now, after I’ve been in stores again for four years, I still value each trip and see it as such a privilege that I am able to buy groceries for me and my children without physical assistance.

The need for help often extends further for those dealing with chronic or acute illness.  Most of us have struggled with a jewelry clasp at some point, but when one’s hands become arthritic, help is necessary any time one wants to wear jewelry.  And it goes further.  Zipping zippers.  Tying shoes.  All these seemingly little tasks suddenly require asking for help.  When it extends to even more personal things such as getting in and out of the bathtub, asking for help can be truly demoralizing to the person now faced with disability.  The disabled individual must surrender their dignity and their independence in order to survive.  That’s very difficult to do on an emotional level.

It becomes even harder to ask for help when requests are met with bitterness or when it seems like offers aren’t genuine.  Some well-meaning people offer help only to then turn requests for help into means of applying guilt trips.  Caring for the disabled can be a taxing job, one that most people don’t knowingly sign up for.   It’s not hard to understand how one can run out of patience with helping someone who used to be self-sufficient, but it’s likewise very easy to know why being that person who has to ask for help is just as much of a life challenge.

The best ways to help those who are disabled are with genuine, specific offers.  If you’d like to help a friend by listening, then tell them that you’re available whenever they want to call, text, e-mail or Skype.  If you want to help by going for groceries, let them know that you go to the grocery store almost every Saturday and are happy to pick up what they need.  Specific offers generally are more likely to be accepted than general offers of “if you need something, let me know.”  Likewise, if someone asks you for help in a way you just can’t give right now for whatever reason, it’s ok to say no.  You have to take care of yourself and your family first before reaching out to others.  If you can help them find someone else to assist them, that’s often helpful, though.

Likewise, don’t presume disabled people always need help.  Ask before you push someone’s wheelchair without their consent.  Ask before you start cleaning someone’s house while visiting.  The person may be having a rough day but may feel confident they can take care of the tasks before them tomorrow.  Having other people presume they always need help can be demoralizing to those who are disabled.

I’ve also found that higher level help—from spirit guides, angels, and whatever higher sources of power you might believe in—is there, though not always in obvious form.  I’ve learned that we often can’t access that help without asking.  My spirit guides are always willing to assist me with things that will help in my protection or growth.  However, because free will comes into play, they often won’t step in until I explicitly tell them, “I really need your help with this issue.”  I have to make the choice to let them help me.

I have always found it so much easier to give than receive.  My disability has forced me to surrender to accepting help from others.  I still stubbornly try to do things on my own on occasion when I’d be better off asking for help, but I have gotten much better about accepting help when I desperately need it.

© 2014 Green Heart Guidance