September summarized
A Summary of September at the end of October? Yes, Why Not?
I’m starting with the end of September, because I can and because it sets the tone for the other two topics in this blog.
Health conference
On September 27th, I was fortunate enough to participate in the annual health conference held by FFO Vestfold and Telemark, and FFO Viken on September 27-28 at Quality Grand Hotel Kongsberg.
FFO, or the Norwegian Federation of Organizations of Disabled People, is an umbrella organization for 88 member organizations with nearly 400,000 members in total.
They are organized with headquarters in Oslo and county branches in all of Norway’s counties, in addition to some municipal branches.
“We mobilize our collective strength toward one goal – a free and equal society for all people with disabilities.“
I was invited to present part of my talk about growing up with siblings with special needs, and I couldn’t have asked for a more grateful audience. There was both seriousness, laughter, and tears, which I would claim is a success when giving a presentation. One of the most rewarding things was all the people who came up to me afterward to share their stories and thank me for sharing mine. The day was, in other words, a great success, and I’m already looking forward to next time.
Generational trauma
One thing I talked about in my presentation in Kongsberg was this serious expression “generational trauma.” Just the word itself is complicated to spell, and its meaning is so profoundly deep and overwhelmingly vast.
I’ve heard the expression before, but the word and its meaning hadn’t quite stuck with me. But when I had a quite deep conversation with a friend this summer, the expression came up again, and that’s when its weight really hit me. The sentence he said was: “I’ve spent a lot of time and energy shaking off and changing these generational traumas that my old man suffered from. All those things he got from his father and which he, in many ways without being aware of it, tried to pass on to me.”
He put words to things I’d actually been thinking about myself but never properly articulated. The fact that we learn ways of being from our parents is obviously nothing new, but it also applies to other more profound things as well.
This conversation led to a small deep dive into articles and research done on generational trauma, and what I found gave me an even better insight into why we humans sometimes are the way we are.
One of the things that emerged was that trauma doesn’t just come from environment, but also from inheritance. Meaning that a trauma inflicted on a person can have such a big impact that it’s passed on genetically to the next generations in the form of higher risk for anxiety and depression.
There will be a more in-depth article about this at some point on this blog, as I find this an extremely fascinating topic.
Maximum lifting capacity
Then there was the beginning of September. Or at least the part that had any content other than work.
I went under the knife. Nothing dramatic, just a couple of hernias in the naval region that had become quite uncomfortable and needed to be dealt with. It was an incredibly efficient affair at Volvat Stor, and I could go home the same evening.
What I hadn’t taken into account, but which was stated in the information sheet I had received, was that I couldn’t lift anything more than 1-2 kg for the next four weeks. And that applied, of course logically enough, from the moment the operation was finished, not when I had first gotten home. That meant I couldn’t even carry my own luggage that I had brought to Oslo. I therefore had to ask for assistance from a friend in Oslo who came to Storo and carried my luggage down to the subway, took it with me down to Oslo S and carried my luggage all the way onto the train to Drammen. Once there, I got help from the conductor to carry the luggage out to a bench on the platform, where I waited until my lovely wife came and carried my luggage into the car.
That day and the following four weeks were a trial for me, especially since I’ve always been the person people ask when they need help lifting, pushing, or pulling large and heavy things. It actually surprised me how much of my identity was tied to being the big and strong one who can handle all such tasks alone.
It also gave me a small insight into how people with various disabilities might feel sometimes. And I say small insight, because the procedure I had was just for two small hernias. I can’t even imagine what it’s like for people who need the same type of help all the time, not just for four weeks. Great respect to all those who depend on help for daily tasks. It must require so incredibly much to have to ask for or even demand the help you need and are entitled to. But also great respect to all those who choose to have as their job helping those who need it. There are unfortunately far too few of them.
Is there perhaps something you can contribute with? If enough people take on helping out a couple of days per month, it could mean a world of difference for those who need the help.
Think about it.
//Stay strong and Rock on!
//Stig