Testimony...

So....last night at my workplace, I circled up 18 men and women to hear the testimony of one woman. Her story was 20 minutes long. She spoke of her addiction to crystal meth and the holes it had put in her brain, thus the reasons for the voices in her head. Voices she claimed were not hers. When her story was finished she was wanting to go. To be done and run away from the "hot seat" she was anticipating. I smiled at her reassuring, and opened it up for questions. As I could not participate, I encouraged the others to ask her anything that they may be pondering. The questions were few, yet the one that hit home was, "will you use meth again?" Her answer was,"If I do, I will be taken to a mental institution for the rest of my life." She was very clear about that.

I left feeling hopeless and helpless for this woman. Her story described her three children, their two fathers, and her betrayal of her current husband, who is fighting in Iraq. Of her rape and escape from being murdered years ago. Of the voices, telling her to use meth. The woman is young in her early thirties and very beautiful in appearance, yet her inner world is not so beautiful. There is potential for some major healing for this woman, yet the odds of her recovery are nauseatingly slim. The demons speaking to her have her outnumbered. This is her second 45 day visit in six months and she will most likely become a dire statistic.

Last year I bought a t-shirt that reads across the front, "Don't Piss Off The Voices." A shirt that I choose not to wear to work. Yet it is my work to rile up the voices, give them what they want in most cases to quiet them, and shut them up when they are saboteurs and demons. I am really fucking good at this as it is not only my training, but what I believe to be a Spirit given gift. Yet the gift has a couple of hooks in the aspect that my own voices are a virtual symphony of chaos and rebellion. My own voices some would call "the committee", which I am the chairman. The visual for me is best described in today's reality of Obama circled up with a bunch of Grand Dragons of the KKK. In other words, hard work akin to pissing in the wind at times.

On my drive home from work last night, 25 miles on relatively quiet back roads, music off and eyes peeled for ever present deer, a hawk snatched a rodent illuminated by my headlights. Had I not slowed down, the hawk would have been a grill ornament and a five minute stop in the middle of my adventure homeward. As I know that when a hawk passes in front of me, the message is to look closely ahead. As I proceeded somewhat slower than the 60 mph I was driving, around the next bend were two deer in the road dong the mosey. I honked, they bounded, and back to 60. I was grateful for the 45 second interlude that I was witness to. My mind recalling an event a couple of decades ago when I missed a deer by mere inches going 70 plus on my motorcycle, causing a sudden release of intestinal gas as I ramped down the shoulder into the roadside brush.

The woman with holes in her brain is in my heart today. I will put her name on a prayer request when I go to church. She will be held in the hearts of a few people who will hold loving intention for her. I will continue to hold the same as I detach from her emotionally as much as I possibly can. Detachment from those that I could assist in their healing is hard, yet I am harnessed in the aspect that I cannot counsel patients in my "bottom of the ladder" position where I work. As I work in the 3rd rated Native American treatment center in the country, whatever they are doing is working. I must be careful not to break what is not broken. Yet my voices tell me otherwise. They tell me to "break what is not broken."

Eyes open, watching for hawks........

Loon

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If I can get through the day without condemning, criticizing or complaining, it's been a good day. If I don't give advice, it's been perfect. - Flloyd Ashcraft