Let's Talk About Meth

Meth—a stimulant drug kind of like amphetamines that makes you feel good, gives you energy, keeps you awake and then sky rockets your blood pressure and heart rate, gives you skin sores, meth mouth, causes cognitive decline, and makes you look old and often sickly. According to the 2012 Monitoring the Future study, a NIDA funded survey of teens in grades 8, 10, and 12, 1% of 8^th and 10^th graders, and 1.1% of 12^th graders had abused meth at least once in the past year. That doesn’t sound like a lot but after working for 5 months at the Juvenile Delinquency Center, specifically in a residential drug and alcohol treatment unit, I can tell you that 1% is enough to morph the lives of too many youth.

Typically the unit had about 15 kids ranging from 12 to 17 years old at any given time. Many of the children had been through the program once before, or twice. Nearly all of the children reported having seen meth growing up in their homes, a history of chronic homelessness, domestic violence, poverty, and poor attendance at school. In a conversation with one exceptionally intelligent youth (he taught himself calculus on the computer in his free time), I was told it was better to have a roof to sleep under and friends to take care of you at the cost of using meth then to be all by yourself and homeless.  With all the scientific evidence we have that points to the importance of peer groups and social acceptance, it was difficult to suggest this young man was in the wrong.

To add further complexity, what we know about the teenage brain suggests that it develops unevenly starting in the back and moving towards the front. Because the prefrontal cortex (the very front of your cortex and in charge of judgment) has yet to be fully developed, impulses are nearly impossible to control and risky behaviors are ultimately the consequence. Meanwhile, the amygdala (in charge of emotions) and the nucleus acumbens (motivation) are developing more quickly than the prefrontal cortex. Therefore, while the teenage brain begins to reel with emotion and be highly motivated to work towards whatever they deem important, there is no regulator to find what is appropriate or safe.

So what does this all mean for the kids I got to know? For starters, it means that just as a result of normal development, teenagers are at a deficit which is often compounded for children by poverty, violence, poor parenting, limited mentors, and lack of education. It means that to understand how to bring the 1% of teenagers using meth to 0%, we need to educate ourselves more on how the brain works and understand that children at risk often times play a smaller role in their addiction that the judicial system would like to admit. We label these children as delinquents, force them to live in isolation for 6 months, and expect them to be done with drugs forever. How does this line up with what we know scientifically?

Even more so, decreasing teenage drug use is not limited to stronger rehabilitation research. We need to reverse cycles of poverty and violence that plague our most marginalized citizens. In this way, issues of homelessness, adult drug addiction, food insecurity, the social isolation of homosexual youth, poor education requirements, and the expensive cost of living are exceptionally related to the children that are using at such a young age. So to the reader that finds their actions are unrelated to youth sitting in a concrete room at the delinquency center, your actions today can influence them greatly. In the words of Margaret Mead, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” Today is the day for you to become a member of that group of thoughtful committed citizens.

Ever Heard of Mary Seacole?

Mary Seacole

Yesterday, the hospital celebrated Florence Nightingale. For most of us, Florence’s name rings a bell as she is attributed with founding nursing as a profession and the creator of the pie chart. A Victorian heroine, she set up and ran a hospital in Scutari during the Crimean War, organized an association of nurses, and made strides in improving hospital care. Celebrated for leaving her life of luxury and working in the trenches with the soldiers, Nightingale is often a symbol of unconditional empathy and care for those she served.

While I am a long ways from being a historian, I do know that the 1800’s was victim to horrible race relations. It was a time in Europe that while black citizens may have been free, they had few civic rights. Meanwhile in the US, the North and South were at war with slavery being a key tenant of the struggle. Just last week, I finished a novel by Lois Leveene, The Secrets’ of Mary Bowser, which is a fictional narrative about the historically true heroine, Mary Bowser. Leveene pulls deeply from historical records to piece together what may have been reflective of the life of Mary Bowser, a woman that began her life as a slave, was educated, set free, and later became a spy pretending to be a servant for the Confederate President as she fed information back to Lincoln’s administration. So how is all of this connected?

With Mary Bowser in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder, was Florence really alone in the founding of nursing as a profession? Turns out, while Florence should be applauded for the good she did, she too continues to collect the fame that arguably should be attributed to Mary Seacole, a black woman that nursed patients alongside Florence Nigtingale in the Crimean War but was forgotten until only 20 years ago.

Mary Seacole, similar to Florence Nightingale, had no professional training but was equipped with healing knowledge because of her Jamaican mother. After the War Office denied her request to help nurse the dying soldiers, Mary Seacole sold all of her belongings to pay for an independent trip towards the front lines where she too nursed the soldiers on the battlefield and set up a hospital. In short, Mary’s career rivals that of Florence Nightingale’s despite the tremendous adversity Mary faced as a mixed race woman. After the war, Mary returned to England in ill health and destitute. During this time, she published her memoirs, “The WonderfulAdventures of Mrs. Seacole in Many Lands” (a free downloadable book on amazon!) which is attributed to being one of the first autobiographies written by a black woman of mixed race.

Perhaps my history textbooks had a missing chapter, but I think it is safe to assume that the majority of us have yet to learn about Mary Seacole, or as she was lovingly referred to, Mother Seacole. Perhaps it is easy to say that Mother Seacole flew under the radar because of the time period she lived within, that if it was today she would be given the credit she was due. But more difficult is the sobering truth that even today, despite the efforts of historians and sociologists to revive her name, Mary Seacole and others like her are forgotten in celebration and conversation.

It is hard to not draw comparisons between the two women. Despite both of their efforts towards social justice and health, it doesn’t take an academic to understand that while Florence did leave a home of luxury for the front lines, Mary Seacole left a life of hardship with the courage to change the world despite her social position and what could be more heroic or courageous than that? For me, Mary Seacole’s life story is an inspiration to continue to work towards the good no matter your position but also, that the voices of minority men and women have yet to be given the credit they deserve in both the past and the present. I believe that by sharing the stories of heroines like Mary Bowser and Mary Seacole, we are making steps towards a more equitable future. With that being said, spend five minutes of your day sharing Mary Seacole’s story with someone you know, read her book, or Google search her picture. In educating ourselves about the shameful secrets of the past, we are paving a world of justice for our future!

Let the Next Chapter Commence!

Happy Graduates and Dr. Baillet

I spent this last weekend reflecting on the gift my education has been as I celebrated Commencement with the rest of my UP class of 2014. I find myself so fortunate to look back on the last four years with a heart filled with gratitude. Despite the excitement, I couldn't help but feeling a great loss as well. Looking around at the crowd of caps and gowns I realized that my chapter here was closing and with it the free time spent with friends, nights roaming dorm rooms, and professors that mentored me towards adulthood.  

Even as a child I was good about having a plan for the future. When I was nine I decided I wanted to be a psychologist and it is almost laughable that my nine-year-old plan has more or less begun to pan out just the way I had hoped. But as gifted as I am at planning for the future, I am often quick to forget to reminisce on the joys the past brought. So today, I am taking a break to recollect those simple joys that marked my college years, the lessons learned, and the little moments that made all the difference.

1. Gratitude- Positive psychology research has found time and time again that the secret to happiness is not so much of a secret. We all know it feels good when someone is grateful for something we have done; college taught me that the reciprocal is true too. Expressing gratitude is the #1 lesson learned in my time at UP. There is nothing more powerful than sharing with those that support you that their support means something. Gratitude lets you notice the beautiful people, things, and moments that often go unnoticed. Gratitude introduced me to evening walks in the slug garden, Saturday mornings at the Down Town Chapel, and sharing a meal with good friends.
2. Power of a Letter- If gratitude is the ultimate lesson, the letter is its medium. College taught me to always have a box of blank notes on the ready to send a thank you for a professor spending extra time coaching me through a class, for a roommate with a bought of homesickness, a Valentine for my grandmas, or a “just because”.
3. See ya laters- Perhaps one of the most difficult lessons will be saying goodbye to the friends that have formed the person I have become. I am so blessed that many of my friends I met at the airport on my first day continue to be my very closest companions. Hiding in the midnight adventures, Disney movie sleepovers, neurobehavioral all-nighters, and Commons brunch on a Saturday is the poignant truth that at some point, we all move on to jobs with new cities and miles separating us. The pain of saying goodbye is one of the most beautiful sufferings life can bring. Henry Nouwen said, “The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.” These are the friends I have begun to say goodbye to as they move abroad, begin their careers in the airforce, or back home where visits will be less frequent. It is in the pain of the physical distance that will separate these intimate friends that there is also a visible beauty of the strength our friendships have formed.
4. Teachers that meant more than that- UP is filled with good professors but the ones I will remember are those that moved beyond a teacher and became a mentor, friend, and trusted advisor. The moments of kindness that you can’t write on a professor’s eval are what made the class time worth it.
5. Service-Recent research found that serotonin (the neurotransmitter that makes you happy among other things) is used more efficiently by people who have just engaged in an act of kindness.  Service has shaped the person I am becoming and given me eyes to see a world of great suffering but moments of kindness and love. Service extends beyond the positive biological attributes of happiness and creates a world moving towards peace and justice. Service brought me out of myself and taught me to walk with humbleness and compassion. Service brought me friends from all walks of life and without service, I am certain that many of my experiences would have been devoid of meaning. Service connected classwork to my reality.
6. Fundamental Attribution Error-is the tendency to emphasis internal characteristics to explain someone else’s behavior rather than external factors. This means that when the jerk cut you off on the freeway, it is because he is an insensitive narcissist instead of perhaps considering that he is late to the biggest job interview of his life and he’s been unemployed for two years and trying to raise a family of three kids. When I took the time to resist against this very human error, I found I was happier, and I could make the people I was around happier.
7. Good Food and Good Sleep- they’re important. Enough said.
8. A Family on Thanksgiving and a Home to go Home to-The reality of choosing a college that is 992 miles away from home is that I spent Thanksgiving away from home. It also meant that when grandparents grew sick or siblings were born odds are I would have to send my love through a phone call or a letter. Despite the challenge of feeling distant from the people I love most I was blessed to have families that brought me into their homes and treated me like one of their own.  At the same time, I learned to appreciate the vacations spent back home soaking up all the nighttime snuggles of my siblings, hikes with my mom and aunt, long runs with my yellow lab, crafting with my grandma, and movie nights with the whole family.
9. Family that Visits-College is hard not just because of the academics and new social territories but because for lots of us family is far away. One of the most wonderful gifts friends and family gave me over the last four years was coming to visit. It is so special to share the city that you live, your home, and your friends with those that you care about back home. I will never forget spending the last night in the dorms with my mom in the bunk underneath me, having my sister and brother come visit to celebrate my 21^st birthday, enjoying the worst rainstorm of all my time in Portland with my cousin Eric at Autzen Stadium where it “never rains”, and touring a high school friend’s grandmother’s house where she use to feed the soldiers of WWII. In short, life is sweeter when you can share it with those you love!
10. A Good Book- When all else fails, a good book and a long day in bed transformed any rainy day into a day that felt like a beach day in OB. In college, I discovered my love for Virginia Woolf and her Bloomsbury counterparts, Paulo Freire, pushed my way through Vonnegut, and memorized the first few lines of The Canterbury Tales. Each of these  were able to draw me out and bring me somewhere else for a short respite.

All this to say that joy doesn't just happen; we have to choose joy. Before leaving for Portland four years ago my Auntie Kim reminded me that we have a gift everyday but we choose whether we will accept it. The gift of happiness is always ours for the taking and with it comes joy. Joy is a gift I am happy to have accepted numerous times during my time on the Bluff. Choosing happiness lead me to be more flexible, empathetic, creative, and resilient. I’ve learned to laugh at myself a little more, and to do things that feel good. I enjoy nature more than I ever had before--I take time to watch the birds feeding out my window, wait for the flowers to bloom, soak up the sun while my dog rolls in the grass. So as this book closes and a new volume begins, I find comfort is sitting with the good times that pulled me through and look forward to the moments in the future where I will choose happiness again.