Sex Offender Registration

This post may end up being my least popular one yet.  But it's something I feel strongly about, and frankly, it's tough to get me to sthu about something I feel strongly about.

I am all for protecting children in whatever fair ways we can.  I am totally against doing it in a way that is unfair and doesn't make sense.

In Oregon, if you have a kidnapping I or II offense against a minor who is not a relative, you must register as a sex offender, even if no sexual offense occurred.  Don't believe me?

Source: http://www.oregon.gov/osp/SOR/pages/or_reg_sex_crimes.aspx
(Scroll down almost to the last statutes, to 163.225 and 163.235.)

For anyone out there who is a parent or who cares about one or more children they know, the thought of one of those sweet innocents being taken somewhere against their will is probably one of the most horrifying things you can imagine.  And I don't know why this law went into effect.  Perhaps there was some research and some correlation between kidnapping and having a motive for sexually offending the victim.

BUT--what about people who have committed an admittedly horrible crime, but did not sexually offend the child?  What if the kidnapping was due to believing the child was in danger?  Also, if you look at the legal definition of kidnapping, it could be refusing to let someone else's child leave a certain space, against their will.  If you think about the crazy things humans do, you can probably come up with lots of scenarios in which this is less serious than it sounds, and someone decides to press charges due to a personal vendetta.

What I am NOT saying is that there needs to be no consequence for kidnapping.

What I am saying is that it doesn't make sense to force someone who is not a sex offender to register as a sex offender.

If this rings true with you, please join me in writing your local congressperson about this issue.

Thank you.

I'm not his perfect match

In less than a year, I am getting married to the love of my life.  And I am not his perfect match.

He is neat as a pin, and likes a place for everything, and everything in its place.  Clutter doesn't really bother me.

His idea of a great night is watching a movie or some TV shows and eating dinner.  Too many nights like this, and I start to fidget, and get stir crazy, and bug him to take me on adventures.

He likes a comfortable, indoor environment, without the hassle of big crowds.  I drag him to big weddings and family get togethers, many of which are outside in the summer heat.

We both like sports; I am grateful that he has become a fan of my Beavers, and I think he is happy to have a fiance who likes sports so much.  However, he prefers to get to the stadium an hour early after a nice, indoor meal.  I like to tailgate with my family for several hours, rain or shine, and get to my seats about 20-30 minutes before kickoff.

Guess what else?  Sometimes we argue.  Presumably comfortable in finally gaining some official-ness or stability in our relationship, our first fight was about 1 week after we first said "I love you."  The first 4-5 months of being together (together 2,000 miles apart!) was trial by fire.  We argued about everything you can think of.  Some of those things were understandable, and some of those things were a little more petty.  (This is for another post, but I actually think this is one of the healthiest things about our relationship.  We were defining our contract, so to speak.)

There are many things I love about my fiance, and there are many things we agree about.  But it is not in spite of not being "perfect matches" that our love and commitment is so strong; it is precisely because of them.

Our relationship has been fun, uplifting, satisfying.  But equally, it has been hard work.  And it should be.  Love does not "feel good" all of the time.  And it shouldn't.  Love should make you more selfless.  Love should make you a better person.  Love should be deeply satisfying, but it is not free of cost.  Because you get what you pay for.

The way movies influence us...

The first time Zach came to Oregon, I was telling him everything I could possibly think of to make his first experience with air travel happen as smoothly as possible. After all, I wanted him to get here, be relaxed, have fun, and want to do it again.  So I did my very best not to sugar-coat things.  I wanted there to be no surprises.

I told him about checked bags vs. carry-ons, "pink tags", and how you board a Southwest flight.  I told him about getting there early, what to expect going through security, and how tiny and cramped planes are.  I explained that the aisles are very narrow, and that the bathrooms barely give you enough room to spin a full circle.

A couple of things surprised him.  First of all, his layover was in Kansas City, and depending which gates you must use it can be a horrible place for a layover.  He had to leave the area behind security and go back through it.  But he made it.

Secondly, nothing I said convinced him just how cramped airplanes are.  "That's not how it looks in the movies!" he said.

We know movies and TV are not reality, but if we are not vigilant and questioning, we may allow them to fill in the blanks for things we really know little about.  I remember when I was in 9th grade, my English teacher brought to our attention how incongruous the lifestyles of sitcom families were with the professions of the parents and what their income realistically would be.  She highlighted how this kind of thing creates this perception about what kind of lifestyles we should be able to afford.

I don't even know what got me started thinking on this.  I think I was thinking about how sometimes I like a little brain candy after a hard week of work, so I will laugh it up at stupid mindless comedy movies.  In the summer of 2009, I saw The Hangover four times.  It cracked me up, came up with ridiculous situations and predicaments, and gave me an escape from a stressful job for a couple of hours.  And it got me excited for what would be my upcoming trip to Las Vegas.

I guess it was sometime after that, I started to think about the characters.  The four main ones are a bunch of good old boys...and they are all white.  Hey, you know, there's nothing explicitly wrong with that.  Then I began to think of some of the other characters...the families and significant others of the main characters--also all white.  So I started to think about whether there were any characters that were from any minority groups.  As follows:

Leslie Chow, an Asian gangster who acts in bizarre ways and is a major antagonist in the plot
Mike Tyson, who acts violently by punching a main character
"Black Doug" who sells drugs

So how does this fill in the blanks for folks, especially people who live in very non-diverse places, like just about anywhere in Oregon?

What do people think?  Does this movie perpetuate harmful stereotypes?  I mentioned racism, but does this movie also perpetuate harmful stereotypes about women and men?

And why, 3 years after the fact, am I the first person I know of to be asking these questions?

Comfortably Numb

Tsunamis.  Katrina.  Earthquakes.  Haiti.  More tsunamis.  Now another hurricane is set to hit Louisiana.  And it's not fair.  That region has not yet begun to recover, and now they are trying to prepare for more.

And you know what?  It's bringing out something in me that I'm not proud of.

I can't bring myself to care.

I just can't dwell on it.  I can't.  I avoid the news to avoid hearing about it.  I might say a general prayer for people around the world in harm's way, but I can't even bring myself to pray directly for these big disasters.  I don't know what I'm afraid of.  I can't think about what those people are going through, I can just barely acknowledge that there is some big disaster going on and that lives are going to be turned upside down.

What is wrong with me??  I've formed the beginnings of an entire career around caring about people who are hurting the most.  Why is it so hard to give some of my attention to these big disasters that affect so many?

Maybe it's a control thing.  In the jobs I've had, I may not have ultimate control over the outcome of anything, but at least I can do things to directly impact a hopefully more favorable outcome.  

These big disasters just seem insurmountable.  I feel powerless to do anything about them.  So I cut myself off of caring about them, and it's awful.  When the tsunamis in Japan were happening, I was working in residential treatment for kids with mental illnesses.  I remember sitting in a classroom where the teacher was showing the kids video footage of the earthquakes and water rushing up from the ground.  I went to the bathroom like 3 times during that hour, not because I had to go, but because I just didn't even want to be in the same room as those videos playing.

Am I the only one?  Does anyone else avoid these things?  Or has anyone else experienced the same feeling I have, and found a way to get over it, to open themselves up to caring more?

Respect

Lately, I've been hearing a lot of degrading of others' personal views.  Mostly on facebook, where of course it is easier to confront others.  My fiance calls this phenomenon "Keyboard rambo."  Ha.

Examples: posting cartoons and comics about why religion (usually Christianity) sucks.  Posting about how stupid all the "libs" are and how they are ruining the country.  Posting about how evil and heartless all the republicans are.  You could probably consider this statement as being a "keyboard rambo" myself, but so be it:  I think all of this is extremely childish.  It shows a simplistic understanding, at best, of another person's worldview, without any consideration that this may be something deeply held and treasured to the other person.

And I'm not just being sensitive about others attacking my own views.  I make it no secret that I'm Catholic, and I try to make it no secret (and I hope the way I live my life speaks for itself although  I'm not proud of everything I do) that I take that very seriously.  It is my foundation not only in my life, but in my career.  I have the Prayer of St. Francis tacked up in my cubicle and I meditate on it every time I anticipate a difficult meeting/session with a patient.  But I will defend the beauty in your own spiritual beliefs whether you are Protestant, Islam, Sikh, Zoroastrian, or anything else including having spiritual beliefs that are not tied to a specific religion.  If you ask me where I fall politically, well, that is a much longer conversation than just answering "conservative" or "liberal."  I may disagree with you on a particular topic or stance, but here's the thing:

I believe in the goodness in others.  I believe that even if what you advocate runs directly counter to what I advocate, it is coming from a good place, and you are following your conscience to the best of your ability.  If someone post something along the lines of "the libs do this" or "Christians are hateful because they xy and z", it makes me think that person is either simply reacting emotionally or hasn't really done their homework.

Some peoples' religious and political beliefs are so personally deeply held and cherished that if you are going to make a simplistic, derogatory, blanket statement about those beliefs, you may as well be insulting that person's significant other or parents or younger sibling.  How is that ever going to be a productive conversation?  You're going to get that much more resistance from them, and they are never going to want to see your side.  Or maybe that's the effect you're going for; maybe you want them to react that way so you can make a point about how you want to see them.

As a final note, I realize a lot of you have been hurt by something a particular belief or value system has done, and you have every right to be angry.  Just please be aware of how you could be hurting someone by cutting them down rather than trying to understand them.

Vicarious (aka Secondary) Trauma

Anyone ever have something pop up in their memory a bunch of times within a short span?  I keep thinking about a particular incident, and since I naturally have a lot of friends who've done similar work as I have, I felt that this was an important thing to check in on.  Also, if it kept popping up in my mind, it may be for a reason.

So this memory is from about 3 years ago.  It was within my last few weeks living in Corvallis before grad school.

One thing my Corvallis/college/Dixon Lodge/Blue House friends and I loved to do sometimes as cheap entertainment was take a walk out to the Covered Bridge.  The Covered Bridge is, well, a covered bridge that spans a creek that runs across a path through an agricultural area of Oregon State University's campus.  It is a peaceful spot at night to go out and watch stars.  Not to say that you won't likely encounter a couple other people, but it stays fairly quiet.

Well, both Chris and I were moving away from Corvallis at roughly the same time (within a week of one another) so he, Caitlin and I decided to go for one last Covered Bridge walk (sniff sniff..those were good times!).

I was working in Child Welfare at that time, and my first go-round with Child Welfare was a little rough.  I wasn't as fast a learner as my first supervisor had hoped, and I went through a period where my future there was a little uncertain.  I made it through that period, but a combination of some lingering concern about that due to some conflicting communication styles between my supervisor and I, and the nature of the work itself, had an impact on me and to some degree on my functioning.

So we were walking along this path, which is pretty sparsely lit, just talking and having a great time.  Since we always just kind of strolled along and enjoyed ourselves, it was pretty common for someone who was out for a workout to pass us from behind.  This happened this time, a man was on a jog and passed us as he got close to us.  But for some reason, that one time, it triggered something really odd in me...it startled me so badly that before I had a chance to even realize I'd been startled, I was suddenly on the ground, protecting my head with my hands, screaming bloody murder.

That poor guy...

Anyway, once I realized what happened, I looked up at Chris and Caitlin, who paused briefly to look puzzled before bending over in gut-splitting laughter.  I cracked up too, because the whole situation was (and is!) pretty comical.  But my heart was still racing. 

It is only now,  few years later, that I can recognize this as a sign of Vicarious (or Secondary) Trauma, hereby shortened to VT.

VT is something that occurs to some people who work in helping professions.  One thing it is not is having a trauma reaction to seeing something or hearing something specific: that is actual trauma.  VT can have some similar symptoms to trauma, but it is not the effect of any one thing.  Instead, it is a reaction to an accumulation of being witness to others' suffering.  It happens especially when you feel a responsibility to have a positive impact on others' suffering, and even more so when you feel hopeless or powerless to do so. (One of the best explanations I have read on VT: http://headington-institute.org/Default.aspx?tabid=2648 )

Several months before, I remember feeling really weird about life.  Maybe a little anxious, not exactly numb, and I wasn't depressed, but something had just felt "off" for awhile.  I tried to explain this sensation to a great friend/co-worker.  I had mentioned that something felt "off" and she tried to help me un-pack it, but I couldn't really even talk about it because I didn't fully understand it.  In retrospect, I saw the lives of lots of my clients crumbling and felt partially responsible...which made me feel guilty.  I also just felt really sad about all the suffering I was seeing.  In a word (or two): Vicarious Trauma.

Now, I had heard of Vicarious Trauma before I experienced this, and I knew a little about it.  But I didn't know enough about it to know that's what I was going through, and I certainly didn't have the words to talk about it.  I think if I did, that would have helped.

Instead, I got a little untrusting and easily irritated for a period of time.  (This also happened to be the period of time in which my now-fiance and I were getting to know one another.  Lucky for me he stuck around to get to the better part!)

I had a break from this all when I went to grad school, but after a few months of being back into Child Welfare, I started feeling that way again.  Armed with at least the knowledge that I shouldn't feel that way, I began seeing a counselor.  She was good for me and a calming force, but she started exploring the concept of attention deficit with me.  I thought this was interesting, and that it might help account for some of my disorganization, but I ran it by a couple of people who have known me since I was a kid, and they said they never would have thought that about me.  So it made me really question that, since attention deficit isn't known for having an adult-onset type.

Really, what it boiled down to was leftover VT from working Child Welfare previously.  And once I realized that, I was able to process it...which in turn reduced my work-related anxiety, and helped me be much more productive.

Now, I want to say that I do not tell this story as a "poor me, look what I've been through, show me pity" thing.  I wouldn't trade my life for anyone's.  I've had it easier than anyone I know, and I could fill 100 pages with blessings for every page I could fill with hardships about my life.  I am telling it because if there is someone else out there who has felt this way...you are not alone.  It's a pretty normal reaction to working in any sort of helping profession, and you should talk to someone you trust.  And you are welcome to talk to me.

Switch to a more political/philosophical topic

I believe in privilege and power and the role it plays in our lives.

I was talking today to someone who thinks completely opposite of me.  Which is a valid position to hold, even though I disagree with it, but it fascinates me how something that I see everywhere--some see nowhere.

Are our lives a product of our decisions?  Well, yes, but the decisions we make depend on what choices are available to us.  And if you ask me, there is a VAST variety of the range of peoples' choices.

For instance--I am white.  I am German, French, Dutch, Belgian, and maybe just a little Scotch.  Therefore, I can easily ignore race.  In this country, especially in my little corner of it, if somebody is not white and only white, race is not something they can ignore.  Being not white makes them "different" or "other" and they are confronted with it on a daily basis.

Because I work in such a freakishly un-diverse county, poverty is something that plays a huge role in the differences between people.  The amount of money someone has contributes so much to his or her power, status, and privilege.

For instance--we all make better choices in life when we are not stressed out.  But if you don't know where the next meal is coming from for you and your kids, and you are a single mother, you might latch on to a man--ANY MAN--who can help you get non-negotiable necessities.  You might even think you are being a good, resourceful parent for doing so.  And you may not have the resources to check what his background is like.  Once you start adding in factors such as addiction, having been neglected or abused or molested in your own childhood...well, unless you've been there you probably can't imagine what it is like to try to make all the right decisions for your family while everything is all muddled.  On top of that, let's say you have a state agency on top of you telling that you are doing things wrong and you better shape up or else your kids will get taken from you...how do you not just blow a gasket?  Have a psychotic break?

And here's the question I perpetually struggle with--If I, the holder of privilege and power, am charged with helping 15+ families recover from these kinds of situations, and have 40 hours per week to do so, where the heck do I draw the boundaries??  I can't get enough work done in 40 hours to be considered social justice.  But the state doesn't want to pay us overtime anymore, and I also don't want to work for free.  But should I, in the name of social justice?  Where does my work end and I begin?  How do people in positions of power who want to affect social justice in an overworked system manage?