Your False Intuition

The curse of “intuition” in Data Science - Towards Data Science

You can’t listen to your intuition all the time. You have to have a healthy dollop of distrust for your own inner voice. The siren’s song of our inner self to isolate and “do it on your own”, however dulcet and powerful, are dooming.

When Marsha suffered a dramatic loss in the stock market, she became crippled by anxiety and irritability. It had the further outcome of estranging her from her spouse and friends. She spent all her clean, controlled, but lonely time, alone, like a many thorned beautiful rose in a glass vase.

Marsha and I tugged with this concept, like holding onto different ends of a rope. She did not want to go to therapy. She did not want to disrupt her flow.

Sometimes our lives are “in flow,” but it’s not a healthy flow. We are doing some healthy behaviors, such as exercising, getting our sleep, eating well. However despite this, our emotional disease progresses, unchecked by uncomfortable deliberate efforts. Sometimes we are medication adherent even, and yet our behaviors and emotions are not kind to ourselves. We remain in a condition of suffering, isolated; unable to connect to self and others.

During these times, we need to disrupt the flow. It is laminar, even lovely in its quiet arc, that dishonestly soothes. We need in this case, turbulence and a different direction.

If what you are doing isn’t working, add turbulence and do what is uncomfortable. In Marsha’s case, we both laid the rope down, (smile,) and she pursued a day hospital where she worked on changing her automatic thoughts toward those that were kind to herself. When something triggered her, how she responded, and before she even knew she was thinking about it, was healthier.

Question: Have you ever been misguided by your own thoughts? How do you safeguard against an intuition that may not be kind? Please speak and tell us your story?

Self Care Tip: Don’t let your own intuition be your only voice of reason. Be a friend to yourself.

NAMI – in case you want to join us…

Maintaining Your Mental Health During
COVID-19 Crisis
Due to COVID-19 Public Health protocols NAMI Temecula Valley will be hosting our Mental Health Forum online.
Wednesday May 20th 2020. 


 Our Guest Speaker:    Dr. Johnson-Quijada 

This is from the NAMI website:

Wed, May 20, 6pm – 8pm

Description: The forum begins with sharing, and resources. Following this, every month a pre-selected guest speaker will take the podium and share their expertise with you.
All questions and answers will follow the Mental Health Forum. The forum is held monthly on the third Wednesday and is open to individuals 18 yrs. and over.  DURING COVID-19 CRISIS JOIN US ONLINE.
JOIN ZOOM MEETING
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/89884260271?pwd=NllEOXkvRmlNdERWUXVtelRHTzhPUT09

Meeting ID: 898 8426 0271
Password: 417783
One tap mobile: +16699009128, 89884260271#, 1#, 417783# US

Dial by your location. +1 669 900 9128 US (San Jose)

Some notes: Share and care will begin at 6pm, and the presentation will begin at 7pm.

 Install and test Zoom ahead of time at the following link: https://support.zoom.us/hc/en-us/articles/201362193-Joining-a-Meeting

Dealing with it! Covid and Mental Health

Let me tell you a story.

Once there was a young man who couldn’t negotiate the world around him well. He ostracized his peers with his behaviors. He was easily offended. He didn’t enjoy much and people could sense that, like a divining stick whenever he was around. Do you recognize him? Have you heard this story before? 

Let me tell you another story of a middle-aged woman who lost her son suddenly to asthma. He was sleeping in his apartment in New York far from home. They spoke the night of his death on the phone, not knowing that it was their last conversation. This mother was awoken the following day by her son’s wife who screamed at her that her son was not breathing. This mother spent the next three years in seemingly mental silence. She felt like she turned off. She did not understand how this could have happened. She was not forgiving. She was called aloof by others. Other people did not remember her son like she did. Other people did not feel it inside of their bodies; feel it inside of their emotions; feel it inside of their spirit. Other people did not stop hearing God. Other people did not, as she did, and it left her very alone. Have you heard the story? Do you know her?

Once there was a teenager at work. Her boss pressured her to drink while on a break, and then keep drinking until she was drunk. He was her boss. She was afraid. Afraid of losing her job. Afraid of him. He forced himself on her and although intoxicated at the time, she did not blackout. She remembers over and over and over. She remembers, almost like rewatching a movie. Scenes from that day intrude during school. They intrude when she is with her parents. They intrude when she is trying to sleep. This teen avoids anything that reminds her of his stink. She avoids stores with bells that chime over the doors upon entry. She unfortunately hasn’t avoided alcohol though and that has been another form of misery to her. Do you know her? Maybe you have met.

There once was a boy who kept getting in trouble because he couldn’t focus. There once was an elderly man who only remembered his younger days and nothing new would stick. There once was a worry wort who couldn’t get out of her head. There once was… 

There once was you.  What is your story? And how do you deal?

We are currently in a quarantine. (There’s news! Smile.) And people want to know how to cope during this time of unanticipated stress.  

I’d like to ask you. How have you dealt with your emotional pain so far, apart from quarantine? All these stories could have potentially isolated us in our suffering. There’s nothing quite as potentially isolating as mental illness. It destroys our ability to see ourselves. We become disconnected from self and others. We lose empathy, trapped in our own suffering. We are called “selfish” because no one can give what they don’t have. We lose our ability to chose freely, because the mental illness chooses for us. But you know that you have come up with coping skills to deal. You have brought your suffering into the space of your healthy and become more whole doing it.

These are the same coping skills to fight the tendency toward emotional isolation in quarantine. 

Questions: What are your super-power coping skills you swear by? Please tell!

Self-Care tip: Fight the isolation from quarantine with the basics you already know, if you ask yourself. Keep on!

Mother’s Day – tied to a horse

Sometimes I don’t want to respond to the, “Happy Mother’s Day’s,” as I keep feeling all the many conflicting but authentic bits of motherhood under me, like thumping behind a free willed horse I’m tied to, who’s aiming through Nottingham Forest. There’s so much pressure to be the cherubic woman on Mother’s Day. Really? Heals! Whilst roped to a horses bum!

Look! There’s Marian! She’s sagging and her right boob is slung over her shoulder. Nifty!

“Way to go Marian! You look terrific!”

See. We all lie for love. 

Marian responded with a rude gesture but she was smiling. Oh, the inconsistencies women wrestle must be expressed!

There’s the number one: Being a mother is the best freaking thing of my life! I’m so glad I’m a mommy! And, thank you for making me breakfast. Yum! Once a year. 

Get away from my babies, world! You can never love them like me!

But numbers two through ninety-nine are always rudely jostling for position. Motherhood is like a stutter on repeat of, it’s really not about you!

Or wait, it is! If they fail, ie, turn into a collage of psycho-murderer blended with a throw-up fake and furry do-gooder, it’s all on me! Like getting ticketed when your kid shoplifts Snickers at Target. All time low. (I know you’re asking if that happened to me.)

One hundred stays quiet, squat and permanent: Those kids will leave you in the end. And then you are old.

But I think the reason we yell, “Happy Mother’s Day!,” to each other (and please don’t forget the apostrophe! There’s nothing that reminds us of what failures we are as mothers than bad grammer! Or is it gramm-ar?), is so that we remember, we have each other. We are really not alone.

Happy Mother’s Day, Peeps! You look great!

(Ow! Don’t throw things at me!)

And if you don’t get it, than you don’t get. Maybe read this again in ten years.

Self care tip: Stay connected. You are not alone.

Questions: Tell us about your Mother’s Day. Boys too! We want to hear you.

Connection in Loss

Visiting Mom today, we were separated by a window. Our mobiles were our speakers, like a microphone between a jail cell and her visitors. She put her hand up and splayed her fingers over the glass. Mom so wanted us to be glad visiting, not bummed by her condition, that while crying about the many things worth crying over, she pushed laughter out, and tossed her hair back and animated herself. Her act of love. Literally.

This month, my brothers, cousins and I have been closing down my parents house. We go in turns, distantly from each other, to do what our bodies can. My folks moved there, to Crown Ranch, more than fifty years ago. There’s been a lot to work through. Because of the quarantine, Mom hasn’t been allowed to participate. And so, through these two weeks since Dad died, she, and we have been saying goodbye in foreign ways. Goodbye Dad. Wave at Crown Ranch. Eyeball each of our individual idea relationship constructs, like the person with her suitcases would before moving to a different country. Awkwardly. Lumps of emotion in closed throats.

Mom was crumpled in her chair, crying. I, and my family, were on the other side of the glass.

“It’s all gone.” Mom’s voice came through the speaker phone. Her hands covered her face for a moment. We quietly sat on the other side.

I want to talk to you about loss and connection but I’m not able to do much more than tell you bits of this story. Finding connection through loss is a win though. And as we always say here at, Friend to Yourself, we are created for connection.

Mom received Dad’s belongings from the nursing home last week. When we left her today, she said, “I’m going to go smell Daddy’s clothes.”

We put our hands up against hers for a moment. And we were glad. She did it.

Questions: What have you lost?

What do you remember? 

Self care tip: Find your connection even through loss. You are not alone.

Briefly Loved

I used to gather rocks shiny stones precious metals and things, I thought had permanence, but now I will only go for cuttings with stems just so, bright red or pink I think on top

I like to look at hunks of wood, see the life-rings layered, a round embrace, years upon years in evidence

I like to see a cloud well formed in a frameless sky, or wispy shapes of nothing but Cyrus percolating droplets, hints rain

I once liked mountains and property, a deep footed house surrounded by trees, I once liked, permanence

now I prefer the open, unlined, spaces that cannot be so easily defined

I like to remember that I am temporary as was my father dead now, his ashes are breath behind my ear, dead like my niece some 15 years ago dying like my mother whose days blow down the sidewalk, crumpled leaves

I like to see things of beauty that are short-lived reminding me why pretend I am more than just barely, I thought barely a moment barely worth reckoning in fact nothing at all, wetted pages of Mozart or Chopin I’ll reach for them and watch them tear in my hand

I want to see a mood a whim and other changing things give me nothing that stays or I know you lie you are not any greater than Babylon nor am I

I am nothing but for who made me, else to pretend I want not, I have an old set of China from my mother’s wedding day you can finish that thought

When I was young my legs were strong my joints did not hurt my hair was thick I had potential like you I had use I had years ahead like a thick bank roll of quid and now my neck has wrinkles and I am gray and

my dad died a week ago today

I don’t want anything more than a flower than the truth that we are this this creature this creation this borrowed bit

I will holler louder come Lord Jesus come I will shake my fist it’s just temporary anyways like this

This is enough, “Carry-on,” the officer said, “nothing here to see,”

my dad died a week ago today 

and even that is over please delete when you are done, no tip on self care just a poem. Keep on.

Blessings surround me

David Robert Johnson, MD

Hello Friends,

Thursday, Redlands Community Hospital was able to make an exception and allow us to spend three ultimate hours with Dad In the ICU. He was smiling and attentive. Interested and listening. He had a happy day. We told him our thoughts. Read to him your many notes of love. He especially perked up with my cousin’s report of starting to read a Bible Dad had apparently given him some time ago. That kind of thing has been his and my Mom’s life passion and I don’t think there was much of a better way to say goodnight.


Dad was getting tired. He had started to grimace. There was blood coming out if his ngtube. His pressures were rising and his heart rate was up. Dad said he was ready for his fentanyl. Then he fell asleep.


Around 2am the next morning, Friday, we are told, Dad was asleep and then he wasn’t.


This is the “time,” and he’s not suffering. We are all glad about it. But there is so much of me that still wants him here. My right-arm feels like a knife is in it. My joints hurt. I have a headache. Even in the condition he was in, I would take him if I could.

I will be waiting my whole life for him; for that fortune of being loved by him again. The ground will never be the same under my feet.
Today my Dad died.

There’s never been an Easter weekend like this for me. I’m super grateful for the many layers in our experiences. I feel like blessings surround me. Goodness and mercy follow me all the days of my life and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Thank you for being a reader here and sharing in life with me so well. We will wait together.

Goodnight for now Dad.