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Tag: compassion

  • 5 Ways To Practice Compassion Among Your Family and Friends Through the Holidays

    5 Ways To Practice Compassion Among Your Family and Friends Through the Holidays

    No matter how you give and give back this holiday season and beyond, stay mindful about those in need.

    The holidays are a time when families come together to celebrate the season of gratitude and while the season is often marked by abundance, it can also be a time of great need.

    It can be easy to assume that everyone is doing well during the holidays, but even in seemingly stable families, there exist struggling college students, extended family who may be going to the food bank for the first time, moms who are secretly going through a divorce and wondering how to get by during the coming year, and family members facing a diagnosis that will require hospitalization.

    Why not use this time together to look for and help your friends and family that could use an extra hand this holiday season?

    Here are five ways to weave compassion – for yourself and others – into the coming holidays.

    1. Check In: Don’t Assume It’s All Okay

    Do you have a friend or family member that you think might be going through something? Check in and ask. Offer to take them out to lunch, send them a card or a text. Make a phone call. You don’t have to pry into their life but be there and listen to what they have to say. The holidays can trigger all kinds of feelings and are a good time to touch base, especially amid the flurry of holiday cards and photos.

    2. Listen to Understand

    There’s a difference between “listen to talk” and “listen to understand.” Listening to understand means you’re actively listening to the other person. You’re not in the “problem solving mindset,” you’re in the “exploration” mindset. Your friend may simply need to talk. Or they might need advice or a second opinion. Whatever it is, you won’t know unless you practice listening to understand. Creating space for those story-telling family members is a great place to start – studies show that recounting stories improves self-esteem in seniors.

    3. Care for Yourself

    Maybe you’re the one who is always there for everyone and always showing up when people need it most, and maybe this year, you’re going through struggles of your own. Tell someone you need to talk and make the time to do it, whether it’s a friend, a family member, a therapist, or counselor. Your needs are valid and important and your family and friends will respect that you know how to ask for and get the help you need to live your best life. Make it the gift you give yourself this year.

    4. Find Causes That Speak To You

    Find nonprofits and causes that you can make an ongoing part of your life. Why? Because when a cause speaks to you, you’re more likely to look for creative ways to help it. When you’re actively involved with a cause you believe in, you’re more likely to talk about it with your friends and encourage them to give back in ways that are meaningful in their lives. Giving Tuesday is just one day, but a great day to start.

    5. Get Organized

    When you know someone who is going through a hardship, like a loved one in the hospital, the birth of a new baby, a sick child, or the death of a loved one, organize your friends and family to help them. This can be done with online tools like Give InKind that help you coordinate financial contributions, calendar tasks, chores, and more on a dedicated page that helps the person in need get exactly what they need. Time spent with family is a great time to pull together and make a plan for supporting someone you love.

    No matter how you give and give back this holiday season and beyond, stay mindful about those in need. May we all be lucky enough to not need, but when we do, may we all have the support of our loved ones and community to help us through.

    Laura Malcolm is the CEO and Founder of the social support network, Give InKind.

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • Small Town Tackles Opioid Crisis With Treatment, Compassion

    Small Town Tackles Opioid Crisis With Treatment, Compassion

    Despite its small size, Little Falls has taken control of their drug epidemic in by allocating $1.4 million in grants in the past five years.

    As a 25-year-old in Little Falls, Minnesota, Monica Rudolph would steal money from her parent’s savings, little by little, so she could support her heroin use. 

    Eventually, according to BuzzFeed News, the money was gone. Monica’s parents discovered the empty box in their home, and that’s when her mother began calling treatment centers. But she kept hitting head ends — treatment centers saying they were closed for the weekend, or that they could not take Monica for a few weeks. 

    That’s when her mother decided to call the local hospital—and it worked. Monica was connected with a substance abuse counselor and was told to come in the next day to begin treatment.  

    “My hometown of 8,000 people was the one place in the state that picked up the phone,” Monica said. “Think of all the people like me who don’t have that hometown.”

    Despite its small size, Little Falls has taken control of their drug epidemic in by allocating $1.4 million in grants in the past five years, BuzzFeed News reports. The money has been spent on limiting refills, increasing the access to medications to treat substance use disorder, putting treatment ahead of jail and taking basic public health measures. 

    The efforts paid off. BuzzFeed News reports that visits to the ER for painkillers—once the top reason for visits—isn’t even in the top 20 now. The hospital now has 100 patients on substance use disorder medications and has helped 626 people taper off opioids. 

    “One thing led to another,” Kurt DeVine, one of Monica’s doctors, told BuzzFeed News. “We realized we had to do a lot of things we weren’t doing, and that we had to do them together, or it wasn’t going to work.”

    Now, DeVine and his colleague, Heather Bell, lead online seminars about how Little Falls has tackled the opioid crisis. They help towns to think bigger than just one thing.

    “They get Narcan, or they get one little project and they think that is going to fix it,” DeVine tells BuzzFeed News. “There is no easy answer. It is a lot of work. If we were doing only one thing, just Narcan, our problem would be as bad as anywhere else. You have to do it all.”

    In Little Falls specifically, the hospital formed a “Care Team,” made up of a social worker, a nurse, two doctors, and a pharmacist. The team’s focus is to help patients like Monica. They have also changed their thinking from treating substance use disorder as a crime to considering it a disease. 

    “If you find a person’s urine has a bunch of meth and not their pain meds, you make the assumption they are selling their pain meds to get meth,” Bell told BuzzFeed News. “But we don’t kick them out of our clinic. We say, ‘OK, what is going on? Do you need help?’ Then we get them into treatment.”

    Now, Monica is taking the opportunity to give back to the community that helped her recover. Through training in a federal program, she will now serve as the hospital’s first “peer” counselor. 

    “My life has come full circle,” she told BuzzFeed News. “I’m really excited to give something back.”

    View the original article at thefix.com

  • You Can't Keep It Unless You Give It Away

    You Can't Keep It Unless You Give It Away

    The responsibility to give honestly is my job; the responsibility to take honestly is theirs and not for me to determine. I could go crazy trying to decide which homeless person is worthy and which is not.

    It’s one of the odd truths about life in New York City that some days a homeless person might just be the only person who talks to you, especially if you work solo and live alone. During my months-long stay in New York this year, I walked alone, ate alone, sat alone at two plays, shopped alone, got lost alone, took the subway alone, all with no conversations and no interactions. Of course, I was partially to blame. In my zeal to be considered what I thought a real New Yorker was, I had an impassive face perfected and was proud of my aplomb. I wasn’t a tourist, after all. I was there taking a class, trying vainly to get the city out of my bloodstream so that I wouldn’t suddenly run away from my husband in Arizona and move there permanently.

    One of the things I had to do to be like a native was ignore the homeless. I took my cue from those around me, rushing to wherever I needed to be, looking impassively straight ahead when the solicitations started on my subway car. It was hard. Hands beseeching, cups outstretched, people sleeping in piles of blankets on the sidewalks, the distinction between blankets and human being inside not always apparent.

    This plan seemed to work. At least, until my depression recurred and I began to feel I was dying. One night, before burrowing into my hotel room, I went to get some fruit from a market on Park Avenue, passing a man on the way there whom I thought was loudly ranting into his phone about “some woman.” Certainly none of my business so I knew I needed to paste on my impassive face and walk on by. But on the way back, carrying a bag of bananas and oranges, I listened more closely and I realized the woman he was ranting about was me.

    “Look at her with all that fruit. She can’t give me some. Don’t even care, walking on by with bananas and oranges, swinging that bag. She’s evil, don’t care about nothing and no one.”

    At my home in Arizona I carry money in my car’s center console in case I happen to be pulled up alongside a person with a sign standing in the center median at an intersection. I’m a little cautious so I move my purse away from the window, roll it down, look in the person’s eyes and wish them the best.

    But I was in New York and taking cues from real New Yorkers. Yes, the homeless problem was overwhelming here, so overwhelming that perhaps the only way to deal with it is not to encourage it. I understand I was dropped here out of the blue with no history and no understanding of the differences between the New York homeless problem and that of my home state.

    Back in my hotel room, the fruit put away, I was shaken. What did I think I was doing? My 12-step program teaches me that I am no better than any other human being on earth, and certainly no better than any possible person who may have a substance use disorder. It teaches me that judgement is poison for any addict. And that the responsibility to give honestly is my job; the responsibility to take honestly is theirs and not for me to determine. I could go crazy trying to decide which homeless person is worthy and which is not. I know from the program that if I hold something too closely I’ll lose it and only by living fearlessly and letting go can I be free. And I read somewhere that the universe, God, Higher Power – whatever – doesn’t handle money, that what we have in excess is for us to give.

    It turns out that it’s impossible to get New York out of my bloodstream. If anything, I fall more in love with it, with the grid lines of the streets and avenues, with the museums, with the crowds and food, and with the beauty of spring when it suddenly appears, and I find myself basking in the unbelievable sunshine at Bryant Park.

    I know all the controversy out there about the homeless and giving. I know that some say New Yorkers should only give to the Coalition for the Poor. Others say that giving only increases the homeless population, encouraging them to stay in certain neighborhoods. Some people give food, others nothing. It’s a seemingly unsolvable issue, even with nearly two billion dollars in the state’s budget to fix it.

    But the political became personal when I suddenly understood that I hadn’t become someone else when I came to New York; I had to stop pretending.

    I checked my wallet. Among some larger bills, I had nine single dollars. I folded them all and put them in the back pockets of my jeans, so they’d be easy to reach. The next day when I heard someone ask for help I looked into my fellow human being’s eyes and remembered that I’m one of them. It changed how I felt about the streets, the dread of the nonstop pleas. Suddenly I sought the encounter. I was waiting with their money in my back pocket.

    I never ran out of single dollars and each night I had more of them in my wallet to hand out the next day.

    In recovery programs, they say that what we’re doing by sponsoring people and doing service and putting ourselves out there is not so much to help others as it is to help ourselves, so we can stay sober. What I learned was that I wasn’t giving money to save all the homeless people in New York. I’m not that important and one dollar isn’t going to do that much. I was giving the money to save my own life. I was doing it so I could stay human.

    View the original article at thefix.com