Like many people, when my first child was born, it took me a very short while to figure out that my life had drastically changed. I remember a big realization while doing dishes: Dishes have to be done. Oh yes, and laundry must be done. And folded. Also, things must be clean in the house. Also, more dishes must be done and put away and more laundry needs washing and folding. No more procrastinating. No more blowing off chores to watch Oprah. No more getting a cold and lying on the couch all evening. Here's more or less what I began telling myself: It all depends on me. Everything seemed to suddenly become very serious, with serious consequences.
So, you might think this is weird, but I made up a game for myself to stay motivated. I thought, "Katy, you're in Pioneer Times now. All your chores and tasks are as necessary to our family's survival as anything Ma Ingalls ever did." Banish from your mind, "I'm just too tired." Maybe that's not SO weird - I know another mom who used to pretend it was WWII and her husband was a soldier on the European Front.
As I've mentioned, I love imagination as a tool for coping. Frankly, for me, being a mom to infants was a time I needed both imagination and coping. This internal game of pretend worked okay as my kids were toddlers, too.
But, I think it backfired in a couple ways. Actually, I think we all give ourselves certain messages and/or create certain thoughts during times of stress or periods of our lives and these thoughts don't serve us well later. I work with a lot of women and I see that many of us spend time trying to overcome the following thoughts: 1) If I don't do it, no one will. 2) I can't rest or relax because it will appear that I am not taking what I do seriously.
This eventually leads to bigger problems - not thoughts exactly, but a way behaviours are manifest - I don't know how to have fun, I don't know what gives me pleasure, and finally, the things I do to cope are pleasurable in the short run, but unhealthy in the long run.
As I've been getting my thoughts together for this post, I heard Toni Bernhard, the author of a book, How to Be Sick, talking on Morning Edition - she has some kind of long term illness that keeps her often at home and more often than she'd like, in bed. She's found comfort in a Buddhist meditation practice (more info at http://www.npr.org/2011/01/31/132675079/learning-to-live-a-full-life-with-chronic-illness) and quoted a Buddhist saying, "If you don't have compassion for yourself, your compassion is incomplete."
I love it! One way to have compassion for yourself is to say nicer things to yourself and allow yourself to enjoy life.
Sometimes I begin to remind myself of George Costanza from Seinfeld - there's a great episode in which, as usual, he's having difficulties at work - if I'm remembering right, he has a job, but isn't sure what he's supposed to be doing exactly. He discovers that if he just walks around looking harried, worried, sighing, and moves at a quick pace, everyone thinks he's the hardest working guy around.
Okay, could this sometimes be me?
Let's be honest. I'm not living on the prairie in the 1800s. These days, I'm working on telling myself different things, things like: It's okay to ask for help. It's okay if the house doesn't look perfect when the babysitter comes over. It's okay to watch Oprah's 25th Year: Behind the Scenes in a two to three hour marathon. Why not? It's okay to enjoy the little things in life. And it's probably okay to take myself less seriously, too.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
parenting, mindfulness, and the Dude
Here is what my morning was like. Let me say this first: I'm not proud.
I got up at 5:20 to check email and write. This is what I do every morning. My husband, who'd been out of town for 6 days got in last night at midnight. I'd slept okay, but a couple of bad dreams. I got ready to go to the gym at 6:15. Before I could go, the dog needed to go out, my daughter needed to go to the bathroom and help dressing her doll and she wanted to chat a bit. I remembered that I should set the alarm for my husband so that he would get up and get the kids going for school. I got home from the gym at 7:25. I made two kids' lunches, showered and dressed, helped my kids pick out clothes and get dressed. I drove my son and the neighbor children to school. It was 8:40 when I got home from that, because the traffic was bad. My daughter is due at school at 9. I wasn't going to make that, I knew, but I figured 9:10. I am generally punctual, so it stresses me to be late, but I've given in to the 10 minutes late to pre-school thing. We're almost ready to go, but my daughter starts being tempermental. I start being tempermental. I can't find her mittens or papers for her school. Now I'm really mad and not acting like a very nice mom. When I get mad, I tend to stomp around and yell. I look in the basement for her mittens and find that a cat pooped on the carpet. I am about to blow my top. I've switched into quiet seething mode. We get in the car and there's been a wreck and two lanes are closed on the highway. I know I'm supposed to think about inner peace and mindfulness and gratitude. Unfortunately, curse words are what I'm thinking of. Also, my daugher wants to listen to Les Miserables, the musical, which we have listened to EVERY DAY for 3 weeks. I say, "let's listen to something else for a song or two." It must be the electric anger behind the quiet tone of my voice: she agrees. The song that comes on: Bad Moon Rising by CCR.
This was the game changer. I get a weird amount of pleasure from that song. My husband loves the movie "The Big Lebowski," a movie that is kind of a stoner classic, but also promotes the awesomeness of CCR. I'm just not that mellow of a person, but I wish I was, so I have a hard time connecting with the Dude. The one part of him that I do connect with is his love of Creedence Clearwater Revival. I take this as a sign of hope, a sign of balance. Maybe I could do with a little more Dude influence on my life.
I don't mean not caring or smoking pot or blowing off responsibility, but maybe a clarifying of priorities and choices. Today, Bad Moon Rising made me laugh at myself and think about what I could do to alleviate this pattern in my morning, a pattern of stress that comes out directed at my kids and at myself. The solutions seem simple: get up a little earlier, make lunches the night before, have them pick out clothes the night before, make sure all supplies are ready to go the night before. It's not brain surgery. I'll also be a more pleasant mother and person for it.
There's been a lot of coverage of a new book about motherhood recently - Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, by Amy Chua. (here's a review... http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/20/books/20book.html?_r=1). I haven't read the book, but I've heard a number of interviews with her - her premise is that the American/Western style of parenting that focuses so much on self-esteem can be to the determent of our kids. She says Asian parents tend to approach parenting from a stance that "my kids are strong, they can take it". It being 3 hours a day of piano practice or criticism for poorly made Mother's Day cards, etc. She also says that this style of parenting worked very well for her oldest child (and for her self), but not for her youngest. She had to change her approach slightly with the youngest child because by adolescence, they were growing estranged.
It takes a lot of creativity and humility to change the game plan. To feel unhappy about something - parenting in particular is what I'm thinking of today - and change what you're doing. I think this is what is one of the things that is meant by mindfulness - not that you have a state of inner peace, free of turbulence, but that you remain open to all your choices and trying something new doesn't seem like defeat.
So, I vow to be a nicer mom in the morning by being a mom that plans ahead, a mom that realizes that time limits me as it limits us all, to not blame my kids for being kids when I am the one running late.
Also, maybe I need to download some CCR to my ipod.
I got up at 5:20 to check email and write. This is what I do every morning. My husband, who'd been out of town for 6 days got in last night at midnight. I'd slept okay, but a couple of bad dreams. I got ready to go to the gym at 6:15. Before I could go, the dog needed to go out, my daughter needed to go to the bathroom and help dressing her doll and she wanted to chat a bit. I remembered that I should set the alarm for my husband so that he would get up and get the kids going for school. I got home from the gym at 7:25. I made two kids' lunches, showered and dressed, helped my kids pick out clothes and get dressed. I drove my son and the neighbor children to school. It was 8:40 when I got home from that, because the traffic was bad. My daughter is due at school at 9. I wasn't going to make that, I knew, but I figured 9:10. I am generally punctual, so it stresses me to be late, but I've given in to the 10 minutes late to pre-school thing. We're almost ready to go, but my daughter starts being tempermental. I start being tempermental. I can't find her mittens or papers for her school. Now I'm really mad and not acting like a very nice mom. When I get mad, I tend to stomp around and yell. I look in the basement for her mittens and find that a cat pooped on the carpet. I am about to blow my top. I've switched into quiet seething mode. We get in the car and there's been a wreck and two lanes are closed on the highway. I know I'm supposed to think about inner peace and mindfulness and gratitude. Unfortunately, curse words are what I'm thinking of. Also, my daugher wants to listen to Les Miserables, the musical, which we have listened to EVERY DAY for 3 weeks. I say, "let's listen to something else for a song or two." It must be the electric anger behind the quiet tone of my voice: she agrees. The song that comes on: Bad Moon Rising by CCR.
This was the game changer. I get a weird amount of pleasure from that song. My husband loves the movie "The Big Lebowski," a movie that is kind of a stoner classic, but also promotes the awesomeness of CCR. I'm just not that mellow of a person, but I wish I was, so I have a hard time connecting with the Dude. The one part of him that I do connect with is his love of Creedence Clearwater Revival. I take this as a sign of hope, a sign of balance. Maybe I could do with a little more Dude influence on my life.
I don't mean not caring or smoking pot or blowing off responsibility, but maybe a clarifying of priorities and choices. Today, Bad Moon Rising made me laugh at myself and think about what I could do to alleviate this pattern in my morning, a pattern of stress that comes out directed at my kids and at myself. The solutions seem simple: get up a little earlier, make lunches the night before, have them pick out clothes the night before, make sure all supplies are ready to go the night before. It's not brain surgery. I'll also be a more pleasant mother and person for it.
There's been a lot of coverage of a new book about motherhood recently - Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, by Amy Chua. (here's a review... http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/20/books/20book.html?_r=1). I haven't read the book, but I've heard a number of interviews with her - her premise is that the American/Western style of parenting that focuses so much on self-esteem can be to the determent of our kids. She says Asian parents tend to approach parenting from a stance that "my kids are strong, they can take it". It being 3 hours a day of piano practice or criticism for poorly made Mother's Day cards, etc. She also says that this style of parenting worked very well for her oldest child (and for her self), but not for her youngest. She had to change her approach slightly with the youngest child because by adolescence, they were growing estranged.
It takes a lot of creativity and humility to change the game plan. To feel unhappy about something - parenting in particular is what I'm thinking of today - and change what you're doing. I think this is what is one of the things that is meant by mindfulness - not that you have a state of inner peace, free of turbulence, but that you remain open to all your choices and trying something new doesn't seem like defeat.
So, I vow to be a nicer mom in the morning by being a mom that plans ahead, a mom that realizes that time limits me as it limits us all, to not blame my kids for being kids when I am the one running late.
Also, maybe I need to download some CCR to my ipod.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
thoughts on forgiveness
I think forgiveness is one of the most misunderstood virtues. (If you can call it a virtue - maybe it's more of a 'quality.' Still, it's misunderstood). For what it's worth, my opinion is that forgiveness is not: 1) the feeling that everything is fine; or 2) the feeling of being happy with the person you've forgiven..
In fact, I think forgiveness is probably not a statement.
In church Sunday, the minister talked about Process Theology - a theological concept in which God is understood as a process. God, rather than being a person-like, but spiritual being, is a verb and is continually "happening." Martin Luther King, Jr. studied and considered Process Theology, but ultimately put his faith in a more personal God, an image of God that is in a sense more 'human' - and certainly in which humans are created in His image. All interesting ideas and not to be wishy-washy, but on any given day, God to me, can be any and all of these things/ideas.
But the idea of PROCESS and forgiveness is what's hitting home this week, as I continue to think about the shootings in Tucson, ongoing racial and gender injustice in our world, and also the personal/interpersonal concerns of my own life.
One amazing example of large scale forgiveness can be found in Rwanda - where in 1994 in 100 days over 1 million minority Tutsi's were massacred. I encourage you to take a look at this abstract from a 2009 New Yorker: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/05/04/090504fa_fact_gourevitch
Basically, because those who committed genocide are living side by side in villages with victims of the genocide, the state has implemented a policy of forgiveness courts. Here, perpetrators stand before families of their victims and their communities and publicly ask for forgiveness. Their apology is publicly accepted. Those involved seem to report that they just go through the motions, but that this gives them a place to start. Having a place to start the process is better than not having a place to start.
As I think about what kind of a world I want my kids to inherit and I think about what brings me peace I am more convinced that as crazy as it sounds, justice must look like forgiveness. Forgiveness doesn't mean saying, 'what you did is okay,' it means saying - what you did to me, I'm not going to do back to you - literally or figuratively.
A couple years ago, I remember feeling kind of proud of myself because I felt like I had reached a place of forgiveness with someone that I'd found it difficult to forgive. I'd been reading some codependency literature and liked this idea of detachment - it's said, "detach with anger or detach with love, but just detach." In this particular case, I felt that I was able to detach with love. In reflecting on it, I was both proud and very, very aware that I was standing on a metaphorical thin line of forgiveness - kind of like, "You and I are good now, but if you hurt me again, this whole forgiveness thing goes out the window!"
Maybe that's why I feel that affinity for forgiveness as a process, rather than a point we reach of enlightenment and some sort of inoculation against being hurt by others. Forgiveness is often tenuous and I believe we can move in and out of it, but our intention to forgive is really, very important.
So. A day late, but here's to Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., whose message of nonviolent protest and vision for people of all races is still happening.
In fact, I think forgiveness is probably not a statement.
In church Sunday, the minister talked about Process Theology - a theological concept in which God is understood as a process. God, rather than being a person-like, but spiritual being, is a verb and is continually "happening." Martin Luther King, Jr. studied and considered Process Theology, but ultimately put his faith in a more personal God, an image of God that is in a sense more 'human' - and certainly in which humans are created in His image. All interesting ideas and not to be wishy-washy, but on any given day, God to me, can be any and all of these things/ideas.
But the idea of PROCESS and forgiveness is what's hitting home this week, as I continue to think about the shootings in Tucson, ongoing racial and gender injustice in our world, and also the personal/interpersonal concerns of my own life.
One amazing example of large scale forgiveness can be found in Rwanda - where in 1994 in 100 days over 1 million minority Tutsi's were massacred. I encourage you to take a look at this abstract from a 2009 New Yorker: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/05/04/090504fa_fact_gourevitch
Basically, because those who committed genocide are living side by side in villages with victims of the genocide, the state has implemented a policy of forgiveness courts. Here, perpetrators stand before families of their victims and their communities and publicly ask for forgiveness. Their apology is publicly accepted. Those involved seem to report that they just go through the motions, but that this gives them a place to start. Having a place to start the process is better than not having a place to start.
As I think about what kind of a world I want my kids to inherit and I think about what brings me peace I am more convinced that as crazy as it sounds, justice must look like forgiveness. Forgiveness doesn't mean saying, 'what you did is okay,' it means saying - what you did to me, I'm not going to do back to you - literally or figuratively.
A couple years ago, I remember feeling kind of proud of myself because I felt like I had reached a place of forgiveness with someone that I'd found it difficult to forgive. I'd been reading some codependency literature and liked this idea of detachment - it's said, "detach with anger or detach with love, but just detach." In this particular case, I felt that I was able to detach with love. In reflecting on it, I was both proud and very, very aware that I was standing on a metaphorical thin line of forgiveness - kind of like, "You and I are good now, but if you hurt me again, this whole forgiveness thing goes out the window!"
Maybe that's why I feel that affinity for forgiveness as a process, rather than a point we reach of enlightenment and some sort of inoculation against being hurt by others. Forgiveness is often tenuous and I believe we can move in and out of it, but our intention to forgive is really, very important.
So. A day late, but here's to Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., whose message of nonviolent protest and vision for people of all races is still happening.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
wisdom to know the difference
It's been a hard week to try to keep up with the blog. I think mostly because of the intensity of the coverage of the shootings in Tucson, the aftermath of that and the ongoing dialogue about what factors caused or allowed such a thing to happen. I've felt that there isn't a whole lot more to say, I guess.
The playing and replaying and covering and re-covering of the shootings in AZ seem to me a natural human response to grief, though. In my work, I notice this especially with traumatic grief - an event that carries with it the inital element of utter shock. This happens on the microlevel (one's personal experience - like when I hit and killed a deer this year, I thought repeatedly about the moments leading up to it, trying to make sense of the 'whats' and 'hows' in my mind) and it also happens on the macrolevel, as we witness now regarding this tragedy.
I think this is our way to try to regain some sense of control or try to feel that there is any control at all. I know I wrote a bit about prayer in the last posting -about Rabbi Kushner and When Bad Things Happen to Good People. Another prayer comes to my mind, which many people know as the Serenity Prayer - this is written originally by Reinhold Niebuhr and adopted by most 12-step programs, like Alcoholics Anonymous. I'll post it below - with just one more thought, first.
In my deepest heart, I think control is overrated and somewhat of an illusion. Yet, many of us dedicate our lives to it. Many people believe that writing itself is a way to assert control- to make order out of chaos. "In the beginning was the word..." So, we will continue to strive because we are human. But, let's also try to be humble and mindful that we are limited. To that end:
The Serenity Prayer
God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
The playing and replaying and covering and re-covering of the shootings in AZ seem to me a natural human response to grief, though. In my work, I notice this especially with traumatic grief - an event that carries with it the inital element of utter shock. This happens on the microlevel (one's personal experience - like when I hit and killed a deer this year, I thought repeatedly about the moments leading up to it, trying to make sense of the 'whats' and 'hows' in my mind) and it also happens on the macrolevel, as we witness now regarding this tragedy.
I think this is our way to try to regain some sense of control or try to feel that there is any control at all. I know I wrote a bit about prayer in the last posting -about Rabbi Kushner and When Bad Things Happen to Good People. Another prayer comes to my mind, which many people know as the Serenity Prayer - this is written originally by Reinhold Niebuhr and adopted by most 12-step programs, like Alcoholics Anonymous. I'll post it below - with just one more thought, first.
In my deepest heart, I think control is overrated and somewhat of an illusion. Yet, many of us dedicate our lives to it. Many people believe that writing itself is a way to assert control- to make order out of chaos. "In the beginning was the word..." So, we will continue to strive because we are human. But, let's also try to be humble and mindful that we are limited. To that end:
The Serenity Prayer
God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
thoughts on the shootings in Arizona
When hatred paired with insanity appears to have had a victory, like most people, I feel deep dismay and grief. The shooting Saturday in Arizona that resulted in six deaths and appears to have political motivation fits this description for me. And, in the next days and weeks, I feel confident that the news media will not stop covering a plethora of information on the shooter and making a variety of speculations about his motivation for this terrible and sad act.
Unless he speaks for himself (and even then) I don't think we can really know "why" something like this happens. What I mean is, there are not usually one or two reasons, because reasons would be logical and this is an illogical act. I mean that a myriad of circumstances accumulate over usually a long period of time that result in such a tragedy.
Yet, our human instinct is to make sense and meaning. The one aspect of this incident that appears to be resonating with the media and the public is the vitriol of political coverage and the way this might stir up violence.
My worry about the tone of public discourse is certainly a motivation for me to have started writing Thirteen Ways - to offer choices (at least as I see them and about topics that are important to me) to "us vs. them" thinking. To make it more okay to be comfortable with the answer, "I don't know."
I jotted down three points in my journal yesterday as a response to the aspect of this tragedy in Arizona which may have its roots in the risks of free speech: 1) language is vitally important and those who control public language have a huge responsibility; 2) while it feels great in the moment to be righteously indignant or even right, in the long run, little movement is made toward a solution to a given problem and this can be damaging for all; 3) There will always be differences of opinion - passionate ones - between people, but as Jon Stewart, says, "I think we always have to remember that people can be opponents, but not enemies. And there are enemies in the world. We just need the news media to help us delineate. And I think that's where the failing is, that the culture of corruption in the media doesn't allow us to delineate between enemies and opponents."
In examining these terribly sad and senseless moments of life, the religious/spiritual part of me is always left still lamenting, "why." I read an excellent book in the past couple of years, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, by Harold Kushner. To paraphrase - he says that we will never know, but that the only appropriate prayer is one for strength to face what it is that has happened - to survive and go on.
I'll close with thoughts and prayers for strength - for the families and friends of the people who were killed or injured in Arizona, for the politicians and media to have the strength to find a different way to speak to us and for us, for us to consider our words and find the intent and strength to use more gentle words with one another. Or even to consider when it is appropriate to choose silence, as President Obama is doing; leading the nation in a moment of silence this morning.
Unless he speaks for himself (and even then) I don't think we can really know "why" something like this happens. What I mean is, there are not usually one or two reasons, because reasons would be logical and this is an illogical act. I mean that a myriad of circumstances accumulate over usually a long period of time that result in such a tragedy.
Yet, our human instinct is to make sense and meaning. The one aspect of this incident that appears to be resonating with the media and the public is the vitriol of political coverage and the way this might stir up violence.
My worry about the tone of public discourse is certainly a motivation for me to have started writing Thirteen Ways - to offer choices (at least as I see them and about topics that are important to me) to "us vs. them" thinking. To make it more okay to be comfortable with the answer, "I don't know."
I jotted down three points in my journal yesterday as a response to the aspect of this tragedy in Arizona which may have its roots in the risks of free speech: 1) language is vitally important and those who control public language have a huge responsibility; 2) while it feels great in the moment to be righteously indignant or even right, in the long run, little movement is made toward a solution to a given problem and this can be damaging for all; 3) There will always be differences of opinion - passionate ones - between people, but as Jon Stewart, says, "I think we always have to remember that people can be opponents, but not enemies. And there are enemies in the world. We just need the news media to help us delineate. And I think that's where the failing is, that the culture of corruption in the media doesn't allow us to delineate between enemies and opponents."
In examining these terribly sad and senseless moments of life, the religious/spiritual part of me is always left still lamenting, "why." I read an excellent book in the past couple of years, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, by Harold Kushner. To paraphrase - he says that we will never know, but that the only appropriate prayer is one for strength to face what it is that has happened - to survive and go on.
I'll close with thoughts and prayers for strength - for the families and friends of the people who were killed or injured in Arizona, for the politicians and media to have the strength to find a different way to speak to us and for us, for us to consider our words and find the intent and strength to use more gentle words with one another. Or even to consider when it is appropriate to choose silence, as President Obama is doing; leading the nation in a moment of silence this morning.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Are you selfish? That's probably not the right question.
Well, you knew it had to come from a blogger. A blog about selfishness. Oy vay. But, I'm going to give this a try. I read an article this week about what makes a happy, contented marriage vs. what just makes a long marriage.
Here's the main point of it from the NYT: "Dr. Aron and Gary W. Lewandowski Jr., a professor at Monmouth University in New Jersey, have studied how individuals use a relationship to accumulate knowledge and experiences, a process called “self-expansion.” Research shows that the more self-expansion people experience from their partner, the more committed and satisfied they are in the relationship." The rest can be read at http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/02/weekinreview/02parkerpope.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=the%20happy%20marriage%20is%20the%20me%20marriage&st=cse .
Self-expansion. Hmmm. Marriage that benefits...me. The article says that this is rather counter to what most people think. Most people think marriage has some emotional base in taking care of the other person. So, to think about marriage like, "what can I get out of this?" would be a way to mentally reframe what we might seek out of a lifelong partnership. I tend to think people are not so simple-minded in their approach to marriage, but that's not really the point. The point, I think, is about "healthy selfishness," which is a phrase I'm borrowing from my friend and colleague, Dr. Anthony Castro, who wrote a book, Creating Space for Happiness , which you can get a better look at at http://www.dranthonycastro.com/CreatingSpace.html .
A lot of our religious and moral upbringing warns us against selfishness, yet we live in a terribly selfish culture. So, what are real the pros and cons to 'selfishness'? When are we 'taking care of ourselves? When are we self-expanding in a positive way that recharges us and helps us actually be more giving and creative in the world? When are we giving too much or too other-centered and therefore become resentful and martyrs? Good questions with probably as many answers as there are readers of this blog.
I like the idea of marriage as a partnership of self-expansion. I know that I've learned a lot from my husband - about skiing, about different areas of the country where he has family roots, about cooking, about music- and those are the superficial things. In fact, I think the article focuses on outward expressions of self-expansion. Self-expansion focused inwardly is also a worthy purpose and may be a tool to help us evaluate our relationships.
It kind of reminds me of when I was a kid and I used to worry about whether I wanted to be a good person for the sake of being a good person or did I just want to go to Heaven (which I judged to be a bad motivation for 'being good.') As I got older, I finally thought: who cares. Just be a good person and don't worry about motivation.
Here's the main point of it from the NYT: "Dr. Aron and Gary W. Lewandowski Jr., a professor at Monmouth University in New Jersey, have studied how individuals use a relationship to accumulate knowledge and experiences, a process called “self-expansion.” Research shows that the more self-expansion people experience from their partner, the more committed and satisfied they are in the relationship." The rest can be read at http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/02/weekinreview/02parkerpope.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=the%20happy%20marriage%20is%20the%20me%20marriage&st=cse .
Self-expansion. Hmmm. Marriage that benefits...me. The article says that this is rather counter to what most people think. Most people think marriage has some emotional base in taking care of the other person. So, to think about marriage like, "what can I get out of this?" would be a way to mentally reframe what we might seek out of a lifelong partnership. I tend to think people are not so simple-minded in their approach to marriage, but that's not really the point. The point, I think, is about "healthy selfishness," which is a phrase I'm borrowing from my friend and colleague, Dr. Anthony Castro, who wrote a book, Creating Space for Happiness , which you can get a better look at at http://www.dranthonycastro.com/CreatingSpace.html .
A lot of our religious and moral upbringing warns us against selfishness, yet we live in a terribly selfish culture. So, what are real the pros and cons to 'selfishness'? When are we 'taking care of ourselves? When are we self-expanding in a positive way that recharges us and helps us actually be more giving and creative in the world? When are we giving too much or too other-centered and therefore become resentful and martyrs? Good questions with probably as many answers as there are readers of this blog.
I like the idea of marriage as a partnership of self-expansion. I know that I've learned a lot from my husband - about skiing, about different areas of the country where he has family roots, about cooking, about music- and those are the superficial things. In fact, I think the article focuses on outward expressions of self-expansion. Self-expansion focused inwardly is also a worthy purpose and may be a tool to help us evaluate our relationships.
It kind of reminds me of when I was a kid and I used to worry about whether I wanted to be a good person for the sake of being a good person or did I just want to go to Heaven (which I judged to be a bad motivation for 'being good.') As I got older, I finally thought: who cares. Just be a good person and don't worry about motivation.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
request for input, courage, etc.
I don't want to spend overly much time reflecting on myself and this blog, but after "blogging" for about a month, I first wanted to thank the people who have been reading. It's been fun to run into or hear from friends who have been following. It's taken me a while in life to think of myself as a writer (and I feel more comfortable as a poet than as a prose writer), but I am having fun with this and I feel good hearing that others enjoy it.
One aspect of what I envisioned for this blog was a bit more interactivity with readers. If you are reading my posts and thinking, "I read an article, I bet Katy'd find it interesting" or "I'd like to see X topic addressed", please feel free to let me know. I can't guarantee that I will be able to use everything, and I might even ask you to make a 'guest appearance' yourself, but the interactive component makes me even more energized - creativity needs solitude, but in my experience, it also needs input.
To that end...my husband emailed me an NPR story: First Responders, Rescuers Come Forward With PTSD
http://www.npr.org/2010/12/30/132476507/first-responders-rescuers-face-ptsd-struggles?sc=emaf . First, I just think it's a compelling story. It also made me think about all my colleagues from hospice - nurses, social workers, massage therapists, art therapists, doctors, who similarly face ravages to the human body in the 'line of duty.' Cancer, cancer treatment, and the end of a disease process, can be strangely unnatural to witness and even shocking. We don't live in a time when the average person encounters dying and death with much frequency, so perhaps the vision of a very sick person is even more unsettling. Also, medicine has elongated the dying process - people used to die faster and now we tend to make choices where we languish in illness. Anyway. This is just to say that I was only rarely aware of being shocked by the sight of one of my patients, but I was nearly always deeply saddened by their physical changes and suffering. I was often amazed to see pictures a patients from a time they were healthy. It seemed like that must be a different person.
Since leaving my work in hospice, I've had two upsetting dreams which brought me to an awareness that I must have been more impacted by the 'trauma' of what I witnessed than I let myself be aware: in both dreams someone died. I knew someone died, and I said aloud in the dream, "I can't see another dead body." It felt powerful in the dream and I've thought since about how time changes our perspective. If I were still working in hospice, I don't think I would have had those dreams. I think I would just be 'doing the work.' I imagine this is what Michael Ferrara from the NPR story did for a long time too.
There are two sides to this coin: many of us do difficult things 'in the line of duty' - for our work, for our families - we do them. We show up. We give it our all. This both is and isn't courageous. Many of us take the point of view, "you just do what you have to do." Sometimes we might give ourselves a little pat on the back. But, we don't measure the difficulty of our situation, because maybe then we couldn't show up every day. I don't know what to say about this. Ultimately, in the flip side of the coin, I think healthy people need to do a little reflection. Michael Ferrara eventually went to therapy. Of course, I think therapy can be a good, helpful tool to enable people to live fuller, more contented lives. I think religion can do this. I think art can do it. I think meaningful relationships with healthy people can do it.
So before wrapping up today, I also feel like I should emphasize that like any diagnosable condition, to have PTSD, a person must meet several criteria outlined in the DSM (a diagnostic encyclopedia, of sorts, for mental health professionals.) PTSD is a serious difficulty, for which there are several very effective treatments.
As with this post, or any other, if you feel so compelled, let me know what you think.
One aspect of what I envisioned for this blog was a bit more interactivity with readers. If you are reading my posts and thinking, "I read an article, I bet Katy'd find it interesting" or "I'd like to see X topic addressed", please feel free to let me know. I can't guarantee that I will be able to use everything, and I might even ask you to make a 'guest appearance' yourself, but the interactive component makes me even more energized - creativity needs solitude, but in my experience, it also needs input.
To that end...my husband emailed me an NPR story: First Responders, Rescuers Come Forward With PTSD
http://www.npr.org/2010/12/30/132476507/first-responders-rescuers-face-ptsd-struggles?sc=emaf . First, I just think it's a compelling story. It also made me think about all my colleagues from hospice - nurses, social workers, massage therapists, art therapists, doctors, who similarly face ravages to the human body in the 'line of duty.' Cancer, cancer treatment, and the end of a disease process, can be strangely unnatural to witness and even shocking. We don't live in a time when the average person encounters dying and death with much frequency, so perhaps the vision of a very sick person is even more unsettling. Also, medicine has elongated the dying process - people used to die faster and now we tend to make choices where we languish in illness. Anyway. This is just to say that I was only rarely aware of being shocked by the sight of one of my patients, but I was nearly always deeply saddened by their physical changes and suffering. I was often amazed to see pictures a patients from a time they were healthy. It seemed like that must be a different person.
Since leaving my work in hospice, I've had two upsetting dreams which brought me to an awareness that I must have been more impacted by the 'trauma' of what I witnessed than I let myself be aware: in both dreams someone died. I knew someone died, and I said aloud in the dream, "I can't see another dead body." It felt powerful in the dream and I've thought since about how time changes our perspective. If I were still working in hospice, I don't think I would have had those dreams. I think I would just be 'doing the work.' I imagine this is what Michael Ferrara from the NPR story did for a long time too.
There are two sides to this coin: many of us do difficult things 'in the line of duty' - for our work, for our families - we do them. We show up. We give it our all. This both is and isn't courageous. Many of us take the point of view, "you just do what you have to do." Sometimes we might give ourselves a little pat on the back. But, we don't measure the difficulty of our situation, because maybe then we couldn't show up every day. I don't know what to say about this. Ultimately, in the flip side of the coin, I think healthy people need to do a little reflection. Michael Ferrara eventually went to therapy. Of course, I think therapy can be a good, helpful tool to enable people to live fuller, more contented lives. I think religion can do this. I think art can do it. I think meaningful relationships with healthy people can do it.
So before wrapping up today, I also feel like I should emphasize that like any diagnosable condition, to have PTSD, a person must meet several criteria outlined in the DSM (a diagnostic encyclopedia, of sorts, for mental health professionals.) PTSD is a serious difficulty, for which there are several very effective treatments.
As with this post, or any other, if you feel so compelled, let me know what you think.
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