Art Therapy

Managing pain through art therapy last night:

Mental Health Disability & Keeping Your Job

Answering the question:  How can I cope with a mental illness or disability without losing my job? 

This issue can be the trickiest to navigate in employment. This is how it’s supposed to work if your employer is honest and willing to follow the law known as the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA):

First, ask yourself if your mental health issues are affecting your ability to do your job. If not, there is no need to tell your employer about your condition.

Second, if it does affect your job, ask yourself in what way(s). Being honest with yourself here is very important. Once you have identified its impact on your work, speak with your therapist or medical provider. Ask them to briefly write a note or letter stating that you have “X” medical limitation(s) due to your disability that require reasonable accommodation on the job. It does not need to include the specifics of your diagnosis—only that you are receiving treatment for a ongoing medical condition that causes these limitations. It is often better not to disclose your specific diagnosis as your employer does not have a need to know.

Some examples: 1) You take medication that impacts your ability to get to work by 8 a.m. due to side affects. Your accommodation request is to start at 10 a.m. instead of 8 a.m. 2) Your condition makes you unable to work 40 hours per week. Your accommodation request is to work a reduced work week.

By law, if your limitation does not prevent you from doing the essential functions of the job, your employer is required to accommodate you. This means that if your job is to call customers and the accommodation does not prevent your ability to call customers it should be accommodated.

Once you have the doctor’s note, you should meet with a representative of Human Resources or Personnel to give them the doctor’s note and discuss your request for reasonable accommodation. If you do not have ideas how to accommodate your limitation, a good resource is the Job Accommodation Network for accommodation ideas listed by condition or to ask questions of an accommodation specialist.

Third, if you believe your condition does prevent your ability to perform the essential functions of the position, you can request your employer assist you in finding vacancies in the organization for which you qualify at or below the same pay rate and can perform the essential functions with or without reasonable accommodation.

This entire process can be daunting and stressful. Make sure you have supportive resources including doctors, therapists, social workers, case managers, friends, and family members to help you advocate for yourself and get your needs met. If your employer is wiling to work with you and follow the ADA, it can help you be a successful, contributing member of the workforce which is the point of accessibility laws. I have worked through this process with hundreds of employees including myself to successfully meet the needs of employer and employee by creating a win/win for both.

Joceile Moore 

Reasonable Accommodation Specialist

Wait for It

The hurting, often constant when I’m not distracted, drives me to write. To express my frustration and alarm without actually screaming. Is it good to have such a keen motivator?  I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I have always been motivated by pain of one sort or another since I was a very small child. It’s not the life I would have wanted but I have no option but to just deal...and write. 

Many, many years ago when I was in my twenties and I knew even less about the human condition than I know now, I was eating in Denny’s with a friend.  When my friend went to the restroom, I noticed a man and woman sitting at the next table.  They were a fair bit older than I and talking together.  I saw pain register repeatedly on the woman’s face.  It appeared to be physical pain.  They kept talking and eating with the pain appearing to never let up for the woman.

When my friend returned, I pointed out the couple to my friend.  “How can he just sit there and talk to her when she’s obviously in so much pain?”  It was confusing to me.  I have never forgotten it.  Now, I know that you can’t let pain stop you from doing things.  It could be that the couple was used to the woman’s state of pain. I’ll never know.  But, it made an unforgettable impression on me.  

Whenever my physical pain catches me unaware and I know it shows on my face, I quickly look at the person I’m talking with to see if they noticed.  If they have, I give a brief little smile with raised eyebrows and a quick shake of my head to let them know it’s not worth remarking on or disrupting the conversation.  Part of me thinks I might now know what was going on with that woman.  I’m certainly clear on what’s going on with me.

Pain has pushed me to chase my mental health. Pain has pushed me to go to work so stubbornly. Pain has made me do things that I might otherwise be too scared to do. It’s not my lot in life to sail through the trials without being highly motivated by pain. What a weird way to live and eventually succeed in life. This wasn’t the outcome I was hoping for. 

I’m sorry to say that in some brief moments of pain ending it all seems like an obvious choice. But, I refuse to entertain that path causing it to only briefly flicker across my consciousness. It would transfer all my pain to those I love. This would not be an act of love nor an exchange I am willing to make. I will die exactly when I’m supposed to and not a minute before. It’s a comforting thought and also unyielding. 

I have died many times in my dreams. My thought is always, “Ah, so this is how it happens.”  I am interested in the big mystery of when and how it occurs. I feel patient for it to arrive exactly when it is supposed to. No sooner and no later.

I don’t know that I believe it is preordained but rather just as all things come—exactly when they do. It gives me an odd sort of patience. Everything happens eventually. “Be patient,” I tell myself. “There is no hurry.”

I think this way about many more things than my pain and death. My partner’s eventual death. The outcomes of my daughter’s life. My dog’s passing.  I see changes in my yard, my work, my country, my earth.  Things happen. The world continues to move. I cannot stop it nor control the movement. I can only nudge it in the direction I want and wait...for what’s next and adapt. 

In pain and depression management, one therapeutic direction is to “just notice.”  It’s not a requirement to act or respond despite the fact that my fight or flight instincts are screaming at me to Do Something.  “Just notice” also comes up in our dog training when our dog is over threshold and her fight or flight instinct is engaged.  “Yes, we see that person.  We’re safe.  Just look at that,” followed with a treat.

At work, I am patient in observing what I need or want to learn.  I don’t have to ask what I’m not supposed to know.  In the stillness of my watching, I learn things.  People communicate so much more by their behavior than by what they actually say.

I’m aware that there’s far more going on than I can ever hope to understand in the world and in the universe. I can only do my best, be patient, and wait. Everything happens eventually. I don’t always know what that means but that’s what I feel.

I hear myself say, “Wait for it.”  The rest is out of my control.  I watch, act, listen, and wait.  It all happens eventually.

L’Chaim. 

Joceile 

5.15.19

May 19, 1972-2019

I am approaching the 47th anniversary of my going into Child Study and Treatment Center which is the youth portion of Western State Hospital.  May 19, 1972.  Some folks might wonder why this anniversary is so important to me year after year.  I have written a letter to myself on most May nineteenths marking my growth and noting my successes.

Going to Western State Hospital was a defining moment of my childhood.  It was a bridge between the years marked by intense sexual, physical, and emotional abuse to an awakening in the second half of my childhood when I went to live with my grandparents where I was mostly safe, fed, and well cared for. Many survivors mark the end of the abuse in one form or another.  I am lucky enough to have an actual date.  One which I celebrate each year when I woke up to the here and now and escaped from the relentlessness of constant abuse and began the long road to recovery.

I have not forgotten the warm summer of that year including the music of the era.  “Stairway to Heaven.”  “Daddy Don’t You Walk So Fast.”  “Alone Again (Naturally).”  “Last Night I Didn’t Get to Sleep at All.”  “Doctor My Eyes.”  “I Can See Clearly Now.”  I met The Stylistics, The Temptations, The Chi-lites.  I was almost entirely unaware of the politics of the day.  I had spent all of my life energy to that point merely trying to survive.  Music managed to filter into my consciousness.  

I bought my first record album and listened to it endlessly on a portable record player that lived in my room in Western. Neil Young’s Harvest.  I can still feel the texture of the album cover and almost smell it.  It was my transition from being at the whim of DJ radio to listening to what I wanted when I wanted. This was a reflection of no longer being subjected to my parents’ abuse timeline. I could start making my own choices. Part of this new awareness, of course, has been a long, long learning about how to make good choices. Not an easy thing to learn. 

I’ve made my share of poor choices. But, the underlying passion has always been continuous learning and growth. I am not particularly ambitious career wise. I’ve been lucky to have found a career that suits me and feeds into my personal mission to spread the word of acceptance and growth.  If you look at my life, though, you would see someone incredibly ambitious with a life mission to do justice to the trials of that 14 year old me in Western that summer as well as all the other younger versions of me. 

I visit that 14 year old in my mind. I look at her picture. I thank her for her hard work and say, “Look at me. We made it.”  I’m alive. I thrive despite the curve balls life throws at me. I love. I care about doing my best. What more could I ask?

Across from Western is a lake and park. The other girls, our counselors, and I walked around that lake almost daily that summer. My counselor would say to me, “What do you want Joceile?”  I imagined some far off time when things might make more sense. I’d be older and confident. It was hard to put that image into words then. But, I had it in my mind’s eye. 

I used to go back to Western and the park every May to visit myself.  Now, I do it in my head. I walk around the lake and see my 14 year old self walking towards me. She is awed by what I’ve become. I hug her and say, “We made it. You’re not alone. I’m here.”

She looks at me as if she’s seeing a miracle. I look back at her and smile because I know she’s right. It is a miracle to survive and be well in myself. It doesn’t have to look perfect. I just have to know I’ve done good. 

L’Chaim. 

Joceile 

5.9.19

[Picture of me at 14 at the beach with ocean waves behind me wearing my father’s brown coat and light blue pants.]

Art in the Office

My buddy, Lonnie Spikes, is an artist.  We are fortunate that he shares his pictures on the walls of our offices.  I’m pretty sure we have more art on our walls than most any other offices.  I realize how blessed we are when I see other offices with nearly bare, blank walls.  Here is one of his latest.  I find it’s one of my favorites.

To see much of his art, here is his website:

https://www.imagekind.com/MemberProfile.aspx?MID=e1b82c74-8e37-4a75-a4dd-5429dff18aae

I am so grateful to have him share his art with us.  I’ve learned much about noticing art by sharing with him what I see and asking questions about what he sees.  Sometimes, our impressions are similar.  Other times, not so much.  

Thanks, Spikester.

Joceile

[Picture of abstract art by Lonnie.]

Is My Pocket Commercial Real Estate?

Well over a year ago, Apple trashed my iPhone 6.  I’ve been an Apple fan since well before they became their modern version of success and have always been interested in cutting edge technology.  However, iPhones have been getting bigger and bigger.  I am not a fan of giant phones but was tolerant of my iPhone 6.

Apple updated their operating system which purposely slowed down my iPhone 6 due to the aging of its battery.  Apple did not notify consumers of this implementation.  It came as a very sad surprise when my iPhone 6 slowed down instantly and dramatically.

At first, Apple stonewalled and wouldn’t admit the impact on older iPhones.  Finally after admitting the slow downs, they offered to replace iPhone 6 batteries for $29.  The catch was there was a three month waiting list or I could do without my phone for a week and mail it in.  Going without my phone was not an option.

I have always liked smaller phones.  While impatiently waiting for my new iPhone 6 battery, I began coveting the older, smaller phones.  I figured if my phone was going to be slow anyway I might as well have an older size phone I like. 

It turns out there is a big market for older iPhones.  Older iPhones are far easier to repair and refurbish than new iPhones.  In fact, brand new older model iPhones can be purchased on line.  eBay is my favorite resource for new, overstock, or refurbished iPhones.  I ended up purchasing a brand new smaller iPhone SE that was actually faster than my iPhone 6 even before the new operating system issues and far cheaper.

I was finally notified that my iPhone 6 battery was available at the Apple store.  Ronnie and I both trooped in with our iPhone 6s. Mine was replaced without incident.  The repairer came back with hers saying it had a “thermal event” and she would be given a brand new phone for the $29.  It would take a little longer to get her new iPhone downloaded with her information.  We looked at each other thinking, “What the heck is a thermal event?”  

I said, “It means it caught on fire.”

He nodded adding, “It was placed in a sand bag which was placed in our fire proof vault according to our protocol.”

Ronnie asked, “Does this happen very often?”

He said, “Not that often.”

I added, “But, often enough to have a fire protocol.”  He nodded.  Ronnie and I imagined the protocol would keep from evacuating the entire mall every time an iPhone had a “thermal event.”  We joked that forest fires would now be called “forest thermal events.”

With its new battery, my iPhone 6 kicked back into gear.  I, on the other hand, had become attached to my smaller phone and protective of my pocket space.  Ronnie is now using my iPhone 6 for her work phone.

In this technology driven world, I know we are constantly having our personal data and space leveraged for corporate commercial use.  There is an ongoing tension with demands for our eye balls, our focus, our thinking, and my new found pocket real estate.  I have rebelled in a small way.  I’m not going bigger.  I’m not going newer.  Refurbished iPhones from a reputable seller last nearly as long as new iPhones and cost 20% of the price.  I don’t need the latest bells and whistles.  I need well functioning basics.  At $200 versus $1000, I can buy an older iPhone every other year for ten years before I pay the price of the “latest and greatest.”

I’m exhorting us all to pick our place in this land of choices and make a stand.  The alternative is to continue to be swept away with the tsunami that is modern technology.  We all have to make choices.  Otherwise, we’re all in danger of losing more than our pocket space.

L’Chaim.

Joceile

5.1.19

[Picture of iPhone 6 with ruler and iPhone SE]