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from Anxiety Agoraphobia Bipolar Disorder Evaluations and Treatment in Boise, Treasure Valley, Idaho http://ift.tt/1lVc7uV
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GPS for the Soul - The Huffington Post
How You Can 'Grow' Your Mental Health
Despite our advances in understanding and treating emotional problems and the more serious mental disorders, we don't know much about what mental health is, in contrast. I've been thinking about this lack for the last several years, and it was brought to mind again recently by the comments of two psychotherapy patients. As I reflected on them, in relation to some recent research findings from outside the mental health field, it struck me that we can identify some features of a psychologically healthy life in today's tumultuous, stressed out, digitalized world.
In fact, there's a great deal of information that you can use and apply in your daily life to increase your mental health. But you're more likely to find it from outside the mental health profession than within it.
To explain, consider this 40-year-old woman. Her career and family life feel to her like running on a permanent treadmill. She's been depressed for years, and her long-standing use of anti-depressant drugs doesn't make much of a dent. Moreover, they create many side effects. Nonetheless, she won't consider how some research-based alternatives suggest ways she might help herself. She's terrified that she'll become more depressed if she tapers off her medications.
Then there's the man with a successful career and seemingly stable marriage. He tells me that despite feeling "pretty normal," now -- he had several years of therapy in the past that helped him with some lifelong relationship issues -- he experiences a kind of dullness in life. He works hard, is engaged with his wife and children, but feels little spark or excitement about his day-to-day existence, now or in the future.
Neither person knows what a fully healthy life would look like, or that they might be able to "grow" it. That's understandable: Ironically, the mental health field doesn't really deal with mental health.
My profession has done a great deal to sharpen diagnosing and identifying psychiatric symptoms. And it's helped enormously to de-stigmatize seeking help and encourage greater resources for treatment. But the mental health field has become immersed in describing symptoms of emotional disorder, to an extreme. Along the way it's lost sight of what mental health is, beyond healing. Beyond effective management and control of early trauma and other experiences that give rise to symptoms like anxiety and depression, which so many people bring into psychotherapy. Consequently, the public assumes that keeping symptoms quelled and dysfunction well-managed is equivalent to health.
But it's not. Creating a vision of what psychological health looks like in today's world -- and what it requires for your bio-psycho-social being (these dimensions are all interconnected) -- is a challenge. But it's possible, if we look at some unlikely sources. These include a variety of research findings and other sources of information. Most aren't directly related to mental heath, but many coalesce into some indicators about what a psychologically healthy life looks like, and how you can "grow" it. Some examples:
People who experience positive emotions also have greater longevity, as do those who express self-determination in life. Also, those who enjoy life maintain better physical condition as they age.
Happiness is highly linked with self-awareness, self-acceptance and compassion towards oneself and towards others.
People who practice transparency and authenticity in their relationships have more successful, sustained romantic connections with their partners. Moreover, how you relate to your partner affects your long-term overall health.
Brains are hard-wired for empathy and human connection. One example: When a person experiences social pain in another, a region of the brain associated with physical pain is aroused. Also, when a spouse experiences chronic pain, the other spouse may develop health problems.
You can learn to alter your brain functioning, your consciousness, attitudes and behavior. Research using functional MRIs shows that meditative practice strengthens areas of the brain associated with self-regulation of emotions, calm, cognitive focus, and empathy towards others.
Practicing mindfulness -- paying attention to your current thoughts and feelings, and observing them in a non-judgmental manner -- improves self-knowledge.
In the business realm, being able to see, understand and deal effectively with others' perspectives is key to successful leadership.
Workers who report greatest happiness and fulfillment describe a culture of opportunity for growth, learning, and having impact on something larger than just their paycheck or career advancement. The venture capitalist Ben Horowitz has emphasized the importance of "the contribution you can make, that you're being part of something bigger than yourself."
Successful companies provide a culture of nimbleness, collaboration, and support of out-of-the-box thinking. Their employees respond flexibly to disruptive innovation and changing conditions with openness and non-defensiveness.
Happy workers have higher productivity and creativity than less-happy workers. Another study found that productivity rises in the presence of bosses who support learning and growth.
A direct relationship exists between diet and brain functioning. Specifically, an anti-inflammatory diet has significant impact upon one's mental state, both cognitively and emotionally. Chronic inflammation is the cause of such illnesses as heart disease, many cancers, and Alzheimer's disease. Certain foods contribute to it, while some substances, such as turmeric, cause significant improvements in cerebrovascular dysfunction.
A Convergence Of Themes
These seemingly unrelated studies suggest some elements of a psychologically healthy life in today's world. First, it's important to realize that you're not imprisoned by your genes. Epigenetic research shows that how your genetic tendencies are expressed -- or aren't -- is shaped by your choices and life experiences. The depressed patient I described above, afraid of life without her medication, unwilling to consider how she might create a more emotionally fulfilling life, keeps herself imprisoned, unnecessarily, by her belief that she's "fixed" in this way.
Nor does one have to live within a state of comfortable deadness, as the man I described who sees no other way of being. Yet there are pathways to greater vitality, aliveness and creative pleasure in life that people do experience and create for themselves, in personal life and in their careers.
One theme connecting many of the above findings is that your internal wellbeing and external success are linked with serving something larger than just your own wants and desires. Having impact on something greater than just yourself is key. It might be the relationship between you and your partner, as a third entity in it's own right. Or positive engagement with others aimed at success with the joint mission or project. Or more generally, engaging with others in with mindful awareness that we're all interdependent and interconnected in this complex, ever-changing world.
Overall, this general theme points to a psychologically healthy life as a state of integration: Of self-regulation of emotions; cognitive focus, moment-to-moment; values, attitudes and behavior that support wellbeing in both yourself and others; and physical-dietary practices that are linked with them.
These are just some initial thoughts. We mental health professionals need to focus much more on identifying and emphasizing what psychological health really means in our current world. And, how we can help people learn to build it in daily life.
Douglas LaBier, Ph.D., is director of the Center for Progressive Development, and writes its blog, Progressive Impact. dlabier@CenterProgressive.org. For more about him on The Huffington Post, click here.
In fact, there's a great deal of information that you can use and apply in your daily life to increase your mental health. But you're more likely to find it from outside the mental health profession than within it.
To explain, consider this 40-year-old woman. Her career and family life feel to her like running on a permanent treadmill. She's been depressed for years, and her long-standing use of anti-depressant drugs doesn't make much of a dent. Moreover, they create many side effects. Nonetheless, she won't consider how some research-based alternatives suggest ways she might help herself. She's terrified that she'll become more depressed if she tapers off her medications.
Then there's the man with a successful career and seemingly stable marriage. He tells me that despite feeling "pretty normal," now -- he had several years of therapy in the past that helped him with some lifelong relationship issues -- he experiences a kind of dullness in life. He works hard, is engaged with his wife and children, but feels little spark or excitement about his day-to-day existence, now or in the future.
Neither person knows what a fully healthy life would look like, or that they might be able to "grow" it. That's understandable: Ironically, the mental health field doesn't really deal with mental health.
My profession has done a great deal to sharpen diagnosing and identifying psychiatric symptoms. And it's helped enormously to de-stigmatize seeking help and encourage greater resources for treatment. But the mental health field has become immersed in describing symptoms of emotional disorder, to an extreme. Along the way it's lost sight of what mental health is, beyond healing. Beyond effective management and control of early trauma and other experiences that give rise to symptoms like anxiety and depression, which so many people bring into psychotherapy. Consequently, the public assumes that keeping symptoms quelled and dysfunction well-managed is equivalent to health.
But it's not. Creating a vision of what psychological health looks like in today's world -- and what it requires for your bio-psycho-social being (these dimensions are all interconnected) -- is a challenge. But it's possible, if we look at some unlikely sources. These include a variety of research findings and other sources of information. Most aren't directly related to mental heath, but many coalesce into some indicators about what a psychologically healthy life looks like, and how you can "grow" it. Some examples:
People who experience positive emotions also have greater longevity, as do those who express self-determination in life. Also, those who enjoy life maintain better physical condition as they age.
Happiness is highly linked with self-awareness, self-acceptance and compassion towards oneself and towards others.
People who practice transparency and authenticity in their relationships have more successful, sustained romantic connections with their partners. Moreover, how you relate to your partner affects your long-term overall health.
Brains are hard-wired for empathy and human connection. One example: When a person experiences social pain in another, a region of the brain associated with physical pain is aroused. Also, when a spouse experiences chronic pain, the other spouse may develop health problems.
You can learn to alter your brain functioning, your consciousness, attitudes and behavior. Research using functional MRIs shows that meditative practice strengthens areas of the brain associated with self-regulation of emotions, calm, cognitive focus, and empathy towards others.
Practicing mindfulness -- paying attention to your current thoughts and feelings, and observing them in a non-judgmental manner -- improves self-knowledge.
In the business realm, being able to see, understand and deal effectively with others' perspectives is key to successful leadership.
Workers who report greatest happiness and fulfillment describe a culture of opportunity for growth, learning, and having impact on something larger than just their paycheck or career advancement. The venture capitalist Ben Horowitz has emphasized the importance of "the contribution you can make, that you're being part of something bigger than yourself."
Successful companies provide a culture of nimbleness, collaboration, and support of out-of-the-box thinking. Their employees respond flexibly to disruptive innovation and changing conditions with openness and non-defensiveness.
Happy workers have higher productivity and creativity than less-happy workers. Another study found that productivity rises in the presence of bosses who support learning and growth.
A direct relationship exists between diet and brain functioning. Specifically, an anti-inflammatory diet has significant impact upon one's mental state, both cognitively and emotionally. Chronic inflammation is the cause of such illnesses as heart disease, many cancers, and Alzheimer's disease. Certain foods contribute to it, while some substances, such as turmeric, cause significant improvements in cerebrovascular dysfunction.
A Convergence Of Themes
These seemingly unrelated studies suggest some elements of a psychologically healthy life in today's world. First, it's important to realize that you're not imprisoned by your genes. Epigenetic research shows that how your genetic tendencies are expressed -- or aren't -- is shaped by your choices and life experiences. The depressed patient I described above, afraid of life without her medication, unwilling to consider how she might create a more emotionally fulfilling life, keeps herself imprisoned, unnecessarily, by her belief that she's "fixed" in this way.
Nor does one have to live within a state of comfortable deadness, as the man I described who sees no other way of being. Yet there are pathways to greater vitality, aliveness and creative pleasure in life that people do experience and create for themselves, in personal life and in their careers.
One theme connecting many of the above findings is that your internal wellbeing and external success are linked with serving something larger than just your own wants and desires. Having impact on something greater than just yourself is key. It might be the relationship between you and your partner, as a third entity in it's own right. Or positive engagement with others aimed at success with the joint mission or project. Or more generally, engaging with others in with mindful awareness that we're all interdependent and interconnected in this complex, ever-changing world.
Overall, this general theme points to a psychologically healthy life as a state of integration: Of self-regulation of emotions; cognitive focus, moment-to-moment; values, attitudes and behavior that support wellbeing in both yourself and others; and physical-dietary practices that are linked with them.
These are just some initial thoughts. We mental health professionals need to focus much more on identifying and emphasizing what psychological health really means in our current world. And, how we can help people learn to build it in daily life.
Douglas LaBier, Ph.D., is director of the Center for Progressive Development, and writes its blog, Progressive Impact. dlabier@CenterProgressive.org. For more about him on The Huffington Post, click here.
I Contracted a Flesh-Eating Bacteria and Lived to Tell
This story was written and performed by Karen Soltero for the live, personal storytelling series Oral Fixation (An Obsession With True Life Tales) at the AT&T Performing Arts Center in Dallas, Texas on Jan. 27, 2014. The theme of the show was "Silver Lining."
Oral Fixation creator Nicole Stewart says, "Karen boldly takes us deep into the unfathomable experience of life changing in an instant."
I thought it was the flu. I had all of the classic symptoms that Thursday afternoon last spring. A fever, chills and those body aches that squirm up and down your spine, telling you you're in for it. I took some Tylenol. When that didn't work, some ibuprofen. I didn't have time for the flu. An emergency appendectomy in December had knocked me down, and I was just now back in the game. My new fitness studio needed me. I was teaching seven classes a week and working at the front desk. My new relationship, teetering on the "are we or aren't we" precipice of real commitment, needed me. And I had a half-marathon to run on Sunday. I didn't have time for this. I needed to kick the speed up a notch faster.
It was around 10 p.m. when the pain in my leg first snaked its way around my left knee, stretched up my IT band and settled into my hip with defiant certainty, forcing me to question mine. This wasn't on the flu menu. Hour by hour, the pain in my leg increased, and then there was vomiting and diarrhea. I didn't sleep. I was crying. I repeated over and over, "Something's not right."
By morning, I couldn't walk, so I crawled into the car and my parents drove me to Baylor Hospital. I was tachycardic; my heart rate never fell below 150 beats per minute. I was in kidney failure and septic shock. My white blood count was sky high.
"It's an infection," the first doctor said, looking down at me with all kinds of doctor-y authority. Duh, I thought. I was hopped up on enough IV pain meds to keep a heroin addict happy for a week, and I could have told myself that.
"Probably bacterial gastroenteritis," he said. "But the pain in my leg..." I said. "Pulled muscle, I suspect. You said you're a runner, right? We'll get you on antibiotics right away. Your CT Scan came back okay, so you'll probably be home in a couple of days," he said. He was pompous, and, something told me, wrong, but I let out my held breath. I called Greg, my "is he or isn't he," and told him it wasn't too serious and that I'd be out in a day or two. I had wanted to call him all day, but we were so new. I didn't want to burden him. "I'm coming up to see you," he said. "I'll be there soon."
That afternoon, another doctor came to see me. He was mad scientist-like, running in and out of my room, asking questions. He zoned in on my leg. Had I been out of the country? In any strange bodies of water? Did I, no judgment here, use any recreational drugs involving needles? I answered no, over and over, while the gears turned in his head. "I'll be back," he said. It was then that I started asking my mom, my dad, the med student who came by to study me, and really, anyone in the vicinity, if I would still be able to run the half-marathon on Sunday.
There are moments in life when everything goes in slow motion, even as it's happening. I can still see it unfold in my head, over and over. Doctors and nurses flooding into the ICU room. Greg coming to the doorway and getting stopped by whoever was acting as the gatekeeper. "I'm her boyfriend," I heard him say. Someone looked at me for confirmation and I nodded, vaguely registering that in the midst of the chaos, I'd just gotten an answer to a very big question.
He came in, sat down and held my hand. Someone asked me if I had a living will, and if I wanted extraordinary measures. I signed over power of attorney to my father, who was standing across the room. When he looked at me, the normal smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes were gone, replaced by a loose, haunted look. It scared me more than all the needles, the relentless pain and the paperwork put together. It told me what no one had said to me in so many words: "You could die."
Someone hugged me. The chief resident and another doctor tried to stab a central line in my neck. I bit my lip and clenched my hands. While my head was turned sideways and they held pressure on their failed attempt, an orthopedic trauma surgeon sat down in my field of vision and told me what was really wrong.
Necrotizing Fasciitis. I rolled the words around in my head. Bacteria, strep A, I would later learn, had found it's way into my healthy body. Through a bug bite, maybe a scratch, I'll never really know. Once in my blood stream, it found a happy place to settle in my left hip and leg, and went to work -- eating connective tissue, sucking up fluid from muscles, leeching nutrients from tissues, in effect, killing the host it was trying to feed off of. If it isn't caught and treated in time, necrotizing fasciitis is always fatal.
Amputations are common. They would cut me open from hip to knee. When I went under for the first time, I didn't know if I would wake up with a leg or not. I didn't know if I would wake up at all.
I spent three weeks in the hospital. They ran four different kinds of antibiotics into my bloodstream, one tasted metallic, like I was sucking on a penny. It was nine days before I could stand at the side of my bed and transfer to a bedside toilet and relieve myself in private. Six weeks before I took a real shower instead of a sponge bath. I had two wound vacs to suck fluid from my open wound, first a big one at the foot of my hospital bed and then a portable one I carried around at home like a purse. Seventeen days before I walked across my hospital room on crutches.
I had 11 surgeries. It's been almost 10 months now. I still don't know how to run, and things still hurt. I still have a ways to go. My physical therapist told me to stop thinking about my rehab in days and weeks and start thinking about it in seasons. In summer, I began to find my way back, pedaling in slow circles on an old fashioned upright bike. In fall, I built up tiny new muscles along my left leg where they all had been severed and sewn back together.
It is now winter. I teach a few classes a week. I can empathize in new ways when class is a challenge for my clients, because of illness, injury or lack of physical fitness. They tell me I inspire them to try harder, which is enough to get me there on my toughest days. I am working my way back to cycling and yoga, to being an athlete. I'll get there, but it might be another season or two before I do. This, like so many things, takes time. I remind myself often that you don't have to be the best or get it all done on day one. There's time. There's plenty of time.
It's another story, but 13 years ago, my younger sister was killed in a robbery. Since then, I started to believe you have to hurry and fit it all in, because who knows how much time you really have. When mine almost ran out too, I learned that sometimes you've got to slow down.
During those first days in the hospital, when I was lying in a bed in ICU with a wide open leg and swollen toes squished together like fat Vienna sausages, Greg handed me a card. The front of it read, "One day at a time, one step at a time, you can make it." Inside he wrote, "We'll get through this... one step at a time," and then he told me that he loved me. A lesser man with his triathlete skills might have been pedaling hard and fast in the opposite direction. But he sat by my hospital bed and held my hand and waited for me to get better.
Greg, my family, my friends, they all stayed with me for hours at the hospital when I couldn't come home and I was way to sick to be interesting. When I learned to walk again, and I was slower than my 96-year-old grandmother on a bad day, they matched me step for step. I'm faster now, and Greg marks my distance on his triathlete watch, cheering on each extra mile as I get stronger.
And for each mile, our relationship grows stronger. My illness taught us to take the time to celebrate each step of the journey. A journey I almost didn't get the chance to have. I'm tired, but I'm happy too. The challenges are good, the victories are sweet, and there is, in fact, time to get it all done. And if I ever get impatient, get in too much of a hurry, and need a reminder, I've always got one with me. The scar threaded into my skin. The straight line running like a seam from my knee to my hip, curving just at the top, is still red in places, but ever so slowly turns pale, shining against my skin, like silver.
Oral Fixation creator Nicole Stewart says, "Karen boldly takes us deep into the unfathomable experience of life changing in an instant."
I thought it was the flu. I had all of the classic symptoms that Thursday afternoon last spring. A fever, chills and those body aches that squirm up and down your spine, telling you you're in for it. I took some Tylenol. When that didn't work, some ibuprofen. I didn't have time for the flu. An emergency appendectomy in December had knocked me down, and I was just now back in the game. My new fitness studio needed me. I was teaching seven classes a week and working at the front desk. My new relationship, teetering on the "are we or aren't we" precipice of real commitment, needed me. And I had a half-marathon to run on Sunday. I didn't have time for this. I needed to kick the speed up a notch faster.
It was around 10 p.m. when the pain in my leg first snaked its way around my left knee, stretched up my IT band and settled into my hip with defiant certainty, forcing me to question mine. This wasn't on the flu menu. Hour by hour, the pain in my leg increased, and then there was vomiting and diarrhea. I didn't sleep. I was crying. I repeated over and over, "Something's not right."
By morning, I couldn't walk, so I crawled into the car and my parents drove me to Baylor Hospital. I was tachycardic; my heart rate never fell below 150 beats per minute. I was in kidney failure and septic shock. My white blood count was sky high.
"It's an infection," the first doctor said, looking down at me with all kinds of doctor-y authority. Duh, I thought. I was hopped up on enough IV pain meds to keep a heroin addict happy for a week, and I could have told myself that.
"Probably bacterial gastroenteritis," he said. "But the pain in my leg..." I said. "Pulled muscle, I suspect. You said you're a runner, right? We'll get you on antibiotics right away. Your CT Scan came back okay, so you'll probably be home in a couple of days," he said. He was pompous, and, something told me, wrong, but I let out my held breath. I called Greg, my "is he or isn't he," and told him it wasn't too serious and that I'd be out in a day or two. I had wanted to call him all day, but we were so new. I didn't want to burden him. "I'm coming up to see you," he said. "I'll be there soon."
That afternoon, another doctor came to see me. He was mad scientist-like, running in and out of my room, asking questions. He zoned in on my leg. Had I been out of the country? In any strange bodies of water? Did I, no judgment here, use any recreational drugs involving needles? I answered no, over and over, while the gears turned in his head. "I'll be back," he said. It was then that I started asking my mom, my dad, the med student who came by to study me, and really, anyone in the vicinity, if I would still be able to run the half-marathon on Sunday.
There are moments in life when everything goes in slow motion, even as it's happening. I can still see it unfold in my head, over and over. Doctors and nurses flooding into the ICU room. Greg coming to the doorway and getting stopped by whoever was acting as the gatekeeper. "I'm her boyfriend," I heard him say. Someone looked at me for confirmation and I nodded, vaguely registering that in the midst of the chaos, I'd just gotten an answer to a very big question.
He came in, sat down and held my hand. Someone asked me if I had a living will, and if I wanted extraordinary measures. I signed over power of attorney to my father, who was standing across the room. When he looked at me, the normal smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes were gone, replaced by a loose, haunted look. It scared me more than all the needles, the relentless pain and the paperwork put together. It told me what no one had said to me in so many words: "You could die."
Someone hugged me. The chief resident and another doctor tried to stab a central line in my neck. I bit my lip and clenched my hands. While my head was turned sideways and they held pressure on their failed attempt, an orthopedic trauma surgeon sat down in my field of vision and told me what was really wrong.
Necrotizing Fasciitis. I rolled the words around in my head. Bacteria, strep A, I would later learn, had found it's way into my healthy body. Through a bug bite, maybe a scratch, I'll never really know. Once in my blood stream, it found a happy place to settle in my left hip and leg, and went to work -- eating connective tissue, sucking up fluid from muscles, leeching nutrients from tissues, in effect, killing the host it was trying to feed off of. If it isn't caught and treated in time, necrotizing fasciitis is always fatal.
Amputations are common. They would cut me open from hip to knee. When I went under for the first time, I didn't know if I would wake up with a leg or not. I didn't know if I would wake up at all.
I spent three weeks in the hospital. They ran four different kinds of antibiotics into my bloodstream, one tasted metallic, like I was sucking on a penny. It was nine days before I could stand at the side of my bed and transfer to a bedside toilet and relieve myself in private. Six weeks before I took a real shower instead of a sponge bath. I had two wound vacs to suck fluid from my open wound, first a big one at the foot of my hospital bed and then a portable one I carried around at home like a purse. Seventeen days before I walked across my hospital room on crutches.
I had 11 surgeries. It's been almost 10 months now. I still don't know how to run, and things still hurt. I still have a ways to go. My physical therapist told me to stop thinking about my rehab in days and weeks and start thinking about it in seasons. In summer, I began to find my way back, pedaling in slow circles on an old fashioned upright bike. In fall, I built up tiny new muscles along my left leg where they all had been severed and sewn back together.
It is now winter. I teach a few classes a week. I can empathize in new ways when class is a challenge for my clients, because of illness, injury or lack of physical fitness. They tell me I inspire them to try harder, which is enough to get me there on my toughest days. I am working my way back to cycling and yoga, to being an athlete. I'll get there, but it might be another season or two before I do. This, like so many things, takes time. I remind myself often that you don't have to be the best or get it all done on day one. There's time. There's plenty of time.
It's another story, but 13 years ago, my younger sister was killed in a robbery. Since then, I started to believe you have to hurry and fit it all in, because who knows how much time you really have. When mine almost ran out too, I learned that sometimes you've got to slow down.
During those first days in the hospital, when I was lying in a bed in ICU with a wide open leg and swollen toes squished together like fat Vienna sausages, Greg handed me a card. The front of it read, "One day at a time, one step at a time, you can make it." Inside he wrote, "We'll get through this... one step at a time," and then he told me that he loved me. A lesser man with his triathlete skills might have been pedaling hard and fast in the opposite direction. But he sat by my hospital bed and held my hand and waited for me to get better.
Greg, my family, my friends, they all stayed with me for hours at the hospital when I couldn't come home and I was way to sick to be interesting. When I learned to walk again, and I was slower than my 96-year-old grandmother on a bad day, they matched me step for step. I'm faster now, and Greg marks my distance on his triathlete watch, cheering on each extra mile as I get stronger.
And for each mile, our relationship grows stronger. My illness taught us to take the time to celebrate each step of the journey. A journey I almost didn't get the chance to have. I'm tired, but I'm happy too. The challenges are good, the victories are sweet, and there is, in fact, time to get it all done. And if I ever get impatient, get in too much of a hurry, and need a reminder, I've always got one with me. The scar threaded into my skin. The straight line running like a seam from my knee to my hip, curving just at the top, is still red in places, but ever so slowly turns pale, shining against my skin, like silver.
Weird News - The Huffington Post
Woman Mugged On TV While Giving Interview On Street Crime (VIDEO)
Talk about mugging for the camera.
A Rio de Janeiro woman was getting interviewed about street crime by Brazil's RJTV when a man ran up and attempted to steal her necklace, in footage published by Globo TV on Wednesday.
In the video, a reporter asks the woman if she is worried about crime in the city center just before an unidentified man pops into the frame and snatches her gold necklace, according to NPR.
The apparent thief rips the necklace off, but the woman manages to hang onto her jewelry. The reporter briefly pursues the young hooligan, but fails to catch him.
The would-be necklace thief was later reportedly apprehended by cops.
A Rio de Janeiro woman was getting interviewed about street crime by Brazil's RJTV when a man ran up and attempted to steal her necklace, in footage published by Globo TV on Wednesday.
In the video, a reporter asks the woman if she is worried about crime in the city center just before an unidentified man pops into the frame and snatches her gold necklace, according to NPR.
The apparent thief rips the necklace off, but the woman manages to hang onto her jewelry. The reporter briefly pursues the young hooligan, but fails to catch him.
The would-be necklace thief was later reportedly apprehended by cops.
#mentalhealth
http://bit.ly/13Y6UVy
from Anxiety Agoraphobia Bipolar Disorder Evaluations and Treatment in Boise, Treasure Valley, Idaho http://ift.tt/1lVc7uV