That’s the main headline on the front of today’s evening paper. It means “4-year-olds learn numbers and letters”. Some kids in daycare are already learning letters and numbers, and if city councilman Torger Ødegaard gets his way, this will become standard practice.

I’m glad to see that some educators here are finally allowing kids’ natural interest in learning to blossom. Previously the attitude here has been that reading, writing, and arithmetic are too stressful subjects for kids. Kids should be allowed to be kids for as long as possible, which for some reason seems to mean that we shouldn’t be teaching them to read. It seems that skepics are afriad that too much structure will turn the kids off from learning. They see learning numbers and letters as “preparation for school”. In my opinion, it’s not preparation for school, it’s preparation for a life of curiosity and learning. The view that reading is something that occurs only in a pedagogical context is precisely the attitude that turns people off of what might otherwise be a lifelong love affair with books. This attitude makes me sad.

Thankfully, though, according to the newspaper, teaching kids to read in first grade is no longer seen as controversial. First graders here are seven, AFAIK–it’s just beyond me that teaching seven-year-olds to read was ever controversial!
I’ve never understood this Norwegian attitude, that reading and childhood somehow don’t mix. I started learning to read before I was three and had a grand old time with it. I just recently chatted online with my friend’s just-barely-four-year-old child. Granted, the chat didn’t consist of much more than “fox” or “pig”, but we both had fun. Kids are as smart as you allow them to be, and reading is only stressful if adults make it seem that way. I’m glad to see Norwegians publicly acknowledging that kids are interested in learning to read, and glad to see the school system developing in favor of this interest.

Speaking of “health nazism”, I’m noticing lately that health standards here in Norway are considerably more strict than they are in the US. Health standards–not weight standards. I had an appointment with a nutritionist the other day to discuss my high cholesterol and B12 deficiency. I went in prepared to be recommended a weight-loss diet, but it turned out that the nutritionist was happy to hear me say that I’m only interested in making changes to affect my health and not my weight, and that I do not have weight loss as a goal (the truth of that statement can be debated!). She had a strong HAES stance, something which I find is pretty common here. When she asked me about my exercise, I told her that I walk about three hours a week and do yoga twice a week. She said this was fine, but later in the conversation she said something like “Since you exercise so little…” I found that amusing, and a little frustrating, too. In the US, the amount of exercise I do would be considered pretty good, at least amongst my socioeconomic class. Here, I’m a lazy bum. It seems like here you’re expected to do a few hours of strenuous exercise a week to be considered fit. Health profiles ask how many hours a week you spend on exercise where you get out of breath and sweaty. That’s the standard here. When we went on a hike on summer vacation, my MIL explained to me that she’d chosen that particular hike for me because her friend with MS could do it–nice! I can walk all day, I’m strong as an ox, and I can do a backbend, but I’m not considered fit by a long shot.

These high health standards aren’t limited to exercise, either. After I went to the nutritionist, I decided to quit drinking so much coke because she suggested that my high sugar intake was the source of my high cholesterol, since nothing else in my diet could be causing it. I told my shrink about my decision to quit, and she praised me in a very patronizing way. She repeated “there are 25 sugar cubes in a glass of coke”–after all, stupid fat me, I thought it was health food! Good thing she enlightened me, otherwise I’d be brushing my teeth with the stuff! She expressed concern about my health, and fear that I’d get diabetes (science lesson, y’all: it’s a genetic disorder, and if you don’t have the gene, you won’t “get” it!). I reassured her, and mentioned that I’m drinking juice instead sometimes. She didn’t think that was any better. She seemed to think that juice is actually bad. Well, fuck that shit! People in this country have been majorly brainwashed by the Atkins empire. Juice is not bad. Juice does not have the same kind of “bad” sugar as coke. Juice has lots of nutritional value. No one, at least no one who’s not diabetic, needs to fear juice. Juice is healthy. People really need to chill out about sugar. I’m so sick of the catastrophizing associated with it!

The thing that makes me most angry is that none of these fearmongers seem to grasp the importance of depression when it comes to health. It’s not sugar that’s going to kill me. I’ll probably die from cardiovascular disease brought on from the stress that depression causes my body. When I’m depressed, I have almost no chance of doing things that are healthy for my body. It seems rational to me to get rid of the depression so I can do healthy things instead of harping at me for not doing the healthy things when my depression makes them nigh on impossible. My depression is going to kill me way before anything else does, not to mention that it completely destroys my quality of life here and now. IMO, stressing out about sugar or my activity level is asinine. Stress is the last thing I need. I wish I could make the people close to me understand this issue.

One of my biggest pet peeves is when people are afraid to use particular words. Just now my use of the term “health nazism” in a BFB post has ruffled some feathers. One person says “A few thoughts here, SJbrodwall. Even though ‘nazism’ has entered the vernacular, it would be nice to avoid such charged language”. The forum moderator (whose job it is to keep the peace, so I don’t blame him too much) follows up with “please, please, please, please do not use the word Nazi or any derivatives. This is a big language, and there are other suitable words that can be used. I really don’t want that word thrown about here by anyone”.

I’m sorry, but… What. The. Fuck!!!!!

Why do words have power? Why? Because people grant them power. Words are nothing outside the minds that use and perceive them.

“Nazism” is a noun. It’s not a slur. It is the name of a political movement. Some shit happened last century, and Nazis did a lot of that shit. It was bad shit, very bad shit, and I don’t condone it. However, using a noun does not fucking condone the actions perpetrated by that noun’s extension! Because some people once did some bad shit, does that mean that I am not allowed to construct an analogy using one of the most historically important events of modern history? Just the invocation of the name of some bad guys is enough to make peoples’ panties get in a knot?

What about rape, then? A helluva lot more people have been raped than were affected by what the nazis did. Am I no longer allowed to use the term rape in anything but its most literal sense for fear of offending people? No rape of the land by the oil industry, no rape of the middle class by the Bush government?

I have to be so fucking careful of every random person’s psyche that I cannot use an apt analogy involving anything negative that might have ever happened to any person, ever? Or wait, I guess the holocaust is sooo fucking special, that it gets privileged status when it comes to taboos. It happened to Westerners, after all, and not brown people. Is that it?

It’s this kind of BS that gives liberals a bad name. This is mindless political correctness, and I’m not having any of it. Not to mention that it’s particularly ironic on a fat acceptance blog called Big Fat Blog. In this movement we have been taught to take back a term that has been used against us–a term that is still used as a slur. We are taught about how the power of language works, and that names cannot hurt us if we don’t let them. I was called fat when I was a kid, and it hurt, even though I was fat–because I was ashamed to be fat. Now I use the word to describe myself, proudly and accurately. Proudly because I have overcome the word’s intended tyrrany, not because I am proud to be something caused by genetics and bad psychotropic drugs. Accurately because fat is a term that describes my appearance. Not “Rubenesque”, not “BBW”, not “curvy”–fat. I have disarmed the word “fat”, and my life is better for it.

The more fear you have of a word, the more power you give it. When you bristle any time the word “nazism” is used in any sense but the most literal, you’re giving that word enormous power. If the language is charged, it’s the sensitive who are charging it. Why would anyone want to be involved in the creation of weapons to be turned on themselves? This is so beyond me.

Sometime I’ll write my thoughts about people who disparage cussing and imply that the cusser suffers from an impoverished vocabulary. But don’t even get me started on “nigger”.

OK, I’m feeling pretty pissed off, frustrated, and hopeless right now. Today I had another appointment with my pdoc. I have regular appointments now, because she wants me to do that whole traditional “analysis” thing: lying on a couch, dream interpretation, unconscious motivation, free association, etc. I was skeptical at first, but decided that I may as well give it a go, since I’ve never tried this kind of therapy before. I have read before that the best predictor of a good outcome in therapy is whether or not the patient trusts and respects the therapist. I figured that since I trust my pdoc and have felt that she’s doing a better job than most other therapists I’ve seen, her methodologies would be of only secondary importance, so I should just go with the flow.

Today I wanted to talk to the pdoc about my sleep. Since I’ve been on the Lamictal, my sleep quality has been terrible. I’m still taking 15 mg Remeron for sleep, because it had been helping marvelously with my sleep. Not anymore, though. The pdoc wants me to regulate my schedule, come hell or high water. I haven’t been able to do this this past week because my sleep is so bad. I told her that I wouldn’t be able to regulate my sleep until my sleep quality improved, either by my getting used to the Lamictal or by using some other med for sleep.

She said that I have to do it anyway, just make myself do it. She gave me another benzo, Sobril (Serax in the US), to take as needed for helping me get to sleep, but she wasn’t happy about it. She says she doesn’t believe that we’ll get anywhere with this therapy unless I force myself to regulate my sleep. Now, bear in mind, this is something I’ve never been able to do successfully. Never. My moods go haywire when I’ve done it in the past–extreme anxiety and extreme depression. Very ugly. My life was barely able to withstand it then; now things are even shakier.

The major problem with my sleep is dreams. The Lamictal is giving me extremely vivid dreams. I mentioned this to the pdoc, and she asked what I’d been dreaming about. I did remember a dream from the other night, so I told her. She began to dissect the dream. What might I have in common with the people in the dream? Because all dreams are about us, she said. How did I feel about what happened in the dream? She suggested that I think about my dreams and maybe keep a notebook by the bed to record keywords to help me remember them. They are the best gateway to the unconscious, she says.

*sigh* Now my skepticism returns. I’ve been reading a lot lately about depression. Currently I’m reading Peter Kramer’s latest book, Against Depression, and I highly recommend it. Based on what I’ve read in this book and elsewhere, depression is considerably more biological than we previously thought. Modern neuroscience has gone beyond the whole neurotransmitter theory of depression; the theory now in vogue has a lot to do with genetic susceptibility and life stressors. It appears that a depressive’s genetic inheritance makes her brain particularly susceptible to damage by stress. When stress occurs, the brain is less able to protect itself from damage, and less able to repair the damage that occurs. This leaves the depressive even more vulnerable to damage from stress in the future. So depressive episodes cause brain damage that make more depressive episodes likely to occur in the future. Because of this, it’s extremely important to nip depressive episodes in the bud with effective treatment. The longer and more severe an episode, the worse the brain damage. And actual, physical brain damage, both at the cellular and structural level, as verifiable with MRI’s and microscopes, is occurring.

These theories mesh very well with my experience of my depression. My biological mother and her mother have depression. So do my biological half-siblings; they have circadian issues, too, just like me. My depression does not seem to be related to external events; it doesn’t even seem to be caused by my thought processes. Then there are those times when I can be depressed and crying, while at the same time laughing because the rational part of me is observing this physical breakdown and can see that it’s not attached to anything. Aside from the depression, I’ve had a good life. No trauma, a close, loving family, plenty of opportunities that I’ve taken, etc. I seemingly have no reason to be depressed.

So needless to say, I’m concerned. I’m concerned that I’m not being medicated properly, and I’m concerned that this therapy is barking up the wrong tree. I’m concerned because my pdoc says that I might get worse before I get better. I’m concerned because she’s instructed me to do something that has previously set off major anxiety and depressive episodes. She says that it won’t be so bad this time, because the Lamictal will help stabilize my mood–but I’m not on a high enough dose of Lamictal for it to be having that effect yet. I’m concerned because I know that being on hormonal birth control makes Lamictal 40% less effective, and my pdoc has never asked about whether or not I’m on hormonal birth control (which is, as a matter of fact, another potential cause of depression).

I decided to read online about psychoanalysis. Here’s a statement from CBS Cares that’s representative of what I’ve found:

It used to be believed that the roots of depression were in childhood experiences. According to this belief, medication could serve only as a band-aid, and it was necessary to undergo extensive psychotherapy to correct the underlying causes of depression. Depressed mood and anxiety were also considered to be the results of intra-psychic conflict, and therefore it was seen as necessary to resolve the conflict in order to truly treat the depression and anxiety.

Much of this thinking has been revised over the past 20 years…

…psychoanalysis is a multi-year, in-depth exploration of how a person experiences themselves and other people, relying on detailed understanding of early life experiences and examination of unconscious thoughts and feelings as revealed in free association, dreams, and other avenues. While it can be effective in helping people develop stronger and more mature personalities and making better decisions in life, it is not a treatment for depression.

Most statements about psychoanalysis aren’t even so generous as to allow that it might help patients develop as a person. In any case, from my research, not to mention my experiences with therapy in the US, it seems like the majority of Norwegian therapy, including that which I’m undergoing now, is based on pseudoscientific theories that are at least 20 years out of date. So, I’m concerned. I’m depressed now, and not getting better. I’m afraid for my brain, not to mention my body. So many of the symptoms of my depression are somatic: poor memory, problems concentrating, messed-up sleep cycles… You should read Kramer’s book; what he has to say about depression as a somatic illness is just terrifying. Well, for a depressive. I’m concerned that my therapy now is little more than medical malpractice, and that there’s nothing I can do because this entire fucking continent is 20 years behind the times.

I want a second opinion. I want to talk to a fucking scientist. A neurologist, or a psychopharmacologist. I just cannot help but think I’m being forced to wander down the garden path here, and I fear I simply haven’t got time for that kind of bullshit.

Blandinavia!

Very interesting article on a Brit’s perception of life in norway as contrasted with the fact that Norway’s been voted as the best country to live in for the fifth year in a row.

Because of my recent weight gain, I’ve been forced (forced, I tell you) to order some new clothing that actually fits me. Trying to force myself into too-tight clothes that I’d been able to wear comfortably just a few months ago was getting to be a real drag, and would often ruin an outing for me before it even started. Because there are a few plus-sized ladies reading this blog, I figure I’ll give a review of what I learned.

Zaftique is a store I’d never ordered from before. Previousl I remember their clothing being frumpy and poorly organized on the site, so I’d never bothered with them. They seem to have revamped their information architecture as well as their target demographic, so I figured I’d give them a try. I ordered a total of six items from them, all tops–I went a little crazy because their stuff is relatively cheap. I was unfortunately disappointed with every single item that arrived, however. When synthetic material was used, the material felt cheap, sort of like a slightly-heavier version of a wal-mart half-slip. One top consisted of a synthetic plus synthetic lace, but the lace somehow seemed to pull at the rest of the material, ruining the line of the garment. The more natural fabrics all had some synthetic in them; they felt nice to the touch, but I always fear pilling with fabrics that contain a mix of synthetics and natural fibers. Otherwise, my biggest beef with all the items was the proportioning. The armholes on the garments extend below my bra-band! This is not so much of a problem for non-armless shirts, except it ruins the entire line of the shirt when you raise your arms. Plus it’s always nice to have well-fitting armholes to prevent as much skin-to-skin contact as possible, especially on parts of the body that tend to sweat a lot. In addition, shoulder-lines were designed for male linebackers. The tank-top straps were entirely too widely sdpaced, as were the shoulders of a top with a wide v-neck. My conclusion is that in general Zaftique has some nice design ideas for cheap, but they’re poorly executed.

I’ve ordered from JJill before several times, and while I’ve not always been pleased with the fit and proportion of their garments, I’ve always been very happy with the style, fabrics, and quality. This is the first time I’ve ordered pants from them, and since pants are my hardest-to-fit item, I was nervous about ordering from overseas. Thankfully, though, it seems that their proportion and fit have improved. The sleeves on the structured jacket I ordered from them were long enough, and the two pairs of structured pants I ordered from them fit like a dream. The sweater I ordered, like many of the sweaters I’ve gotten from them, was a little boxy, however. Overall I was very satisfied, and am looking forward to ordering more pants from them in the future.

I’d love to hear from other about experiences they’ve had with these retailers or others.

Trosser legens råd - Aftenposten.no

What is it with Norwegians? For those of you who don’t read Norwegian, the above article is about Norway’s king refusing to chill out and not work so much, in direct violotion of his doctor’s advice. My husband and his family are exactly the same. My MIL, for example, hurt her knee skiing a few years ago, and now the wear-and-tear on the knee is starting to catch up with her. She told me the knee is making funny noises, causing her a lot of pain, and that she thinks she’s going to need surgery. Despite this, she refuses to let the pain from the knee “hinder” her in her daily activities (focus on the active–she is a woman who does it all and then some). Me, I take pain as a sign that I’m doing something wrong, and lay off whatever it is that I was doing. Not the Myrstad-Brodwalls, however. There are many doctors (and mental health professionals, and lawyers) in the family, but I get the idea that this family is the people who help those in need–not those who are in need. I remember once asking for a painkiller when I was over at their house because I had a headache; they didn’t have any. Not to mention that my husband has never taken a sick day for as long as I can remember, and we’ve been together our entire adult lives.

I have to admit that that family seems to be blessed with amazingly good health, both physically and otherwise. On the one hand I think it’s good, but I also think that it results in a lack of comprehension of what life’s like for those of us who are not so lucky. I take it easy when I’m sick or in pain, either physically or mentally…and that means I take it easy a lot. My experience is that “working through it” just doesn’t work for me. The thing that irritates me is that I feel negatively judged by my in-laws, husband included, when I first have a health problem and second choose to baby myself rather then power through. I’m sure that some of that negative judgment comes from myself, too, but I never felt that way before I started living in Norway. That kind of thing is really a bummer when you’re in a foreign country and have no other support system than your in-laws. Don’t get me wrong–they’re wonderful people and I feel lucky to have married into such a strong, close family–but they just don’t understand. Husband included.

What I’m wondering is if this is a Myrstad-Brodwall thing, an upperclass Norwegian thing (Johannes’s grandfather was doctor to the previous king, after all, and continued working until shortly before his death at 83), or simply a Norwegian thing in general. Any ideas?

No, I have not blogged about Katrina. I have no idea what to say. From Norway, the US looks like a third-world country run by an uncaring, incompetent idiot. This footage from Fox News, which my father described as one of the most moving pieces of jouralism he’s seen, tells you all you need to know. The federal government should be ashamed of itself. Too incompetent to help its own people, and too filled with hubris to allow others to help. I am certainly ashamed to be an American right now.

The Norwegians have a saying “ingenting så ille at det ikke er godt for noe”. It means that nothing’s so bad that it’s not good for something. I hope that this travesty will wake people up, and cause them to realize that the US needs to take care of its own people and infrastructire before trying to remake foreign countries. What’s a country for if not to take care of its own people? But I guess that poor blacks don’t count as people to this adminstration. To quote Respectful of Otters, “small-government conservatives have now seen their vision of how America should operate fulfilled”. Indeed. Is this wake-up call loud enough?

The calcium tablets I bought from the health food store here the other day for 177 kroner cost $5.69 from Amazon. 177 kroner is almost 30 dollars, in case you didn’t know. God, I love this country!