If you are someone who knows me well, you probably have heard me say for a number of years - 'This is the year I am going to do less.' 'This is the year of saying NO.' By now, you probably laugh at me and roll your eyes (I hope you roll them in an affectionate way).
One of my character flaws is to over-commit to various activities and then run around like a maniac and complain that I don't have enough time to enjoy my very full life. If you haven't read a children's book call Owl At Homeby Arnold Lobel - you should. It's so funny - it's a series of vignettes about a neurotic owl. Perhaps my favorite is the one where Owl runs upstairs and downstairs. 'Owl, are you Downstairs? ' he calls to himself? 'No,' he replies to himself, 'I am Upstairs'. Then he runs Upstairs trying to catch himself. This happens again and again. Finally he says, 'I can't be both upstairs and downstairs at the same time. All I am is exhausted.'
Maybe you are not an upstairs, downstairs person. One of my dearest friends says she is a one thing a day person. Amazing! But maybe you are a person who would like to make a particular change, but this change seems to not fully happen. Maybe you make a little progress and then fall back into 'old ways.'
Another friend, Laurie, has often been my 'upaguru' (I just learned what this means - it means 'the guru next to you.') Her life has been full of experiences and relationships and she's been a student of both life and death, having worked in home hospice and bereavement for many years. She is one of those friends that after every time we have lunch or meet for coffee, I find myself mulling over something she said or some unique perspective she shared and it's as if I'm a better person for having spent time with her.
This Fall she visited me at home and we sat in the kitchen drinking tea - the afternoon sunlight warming us through the windows. My family and I had recently moved and as I may have mentioned here, this stirred up many things, including the painful aspects of the Upstairs, Downstairs part of me.
As I was talking with Laurie about this, she asked me, "what does your Deep Knowing want you to know?" Wow. What a question. Laurie is so awesome because she asks questions like this and really wants to know the answer.
I pondered her question many times this Fall and early Winter. The word that kept coming to me was 'Quiet.' What did it mean? I kept listening to this place in myself that we'll call Deep Knowing, and what I believe is this - for these several years, I've been saying, 'I'm going to say NO, I'm going to cut back on activities' and what I really needed to do was whittle down to the essence what I need. When I ask my Deep Knowing what it wants me to know, its this: my Self, my inner core, needs more Quiet time.
That's just my answer. You have a Deep Knowing too, that may be trying to tell you something. Does a particular theme keep coming up in your life? A problem relationship? Is there a certain change you keep trying to make, but find it so hard and exhausting to make that change?
Maybe it's been difficult because you have been keeping yourself at the surface of the problem. Maybe it is time to listen to your own Deep Knowing. To give yourself the time and space, not just one day, but maybe over several days or weeks. Or months. Ask yourself, 'what does my Deep Knowing want me to know?" Write about it. Talk with a trusted someone else about it. I believe you have the wisdom and courage you need inside you.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Dream Bigger
I have been with many, many people in the last days of their life on earth. I try to be a comfort to others in their grief. I believe we honor those who have gone before us by the way we live our lives. In our love, their legacy is love; in our compassion, they live on in compassion; in the joy and beauty we find in life, we honor their memory and this is one way their spirits continue. I believe we can do this for people in our family, I also believe we can do this for those we don't know personally, like the children and adults who lost their lives last Friday in Newtown, CT.
I am reading Letter from a Birmingham Jail by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. In the introduction, by his daughter, Rev. Bernice King, she says that her father did what was necessary to eliminate the "Triple Evils of Poverty, Racism, and War." At the end of his letter, Dr. King concludes, "Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear-drenched communities and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all of their scintillating beauty." Dr. King's words and visions inspire me just as much as his awesome actions in life.
So, this is what I want you to do to transform your sorrow. I want you to dream bigger. Dream bigger for yourself, but also dream bigger for this world and all its people. Don't be embarrassed or sheepish.
When I was in elementary school, I wanted to be the first woman President of the United States. My fifth grade teacher told me that women couldn't be President. This didn't dash my dream, but it shows how life can start muddying up our dreams so we can't see them anymore.
My dreams have changed since 5th grade. It feels vulnerable to write my dream, but it is a true one: When I give someone my full attention, I see what is loveable in them. Sometimes I see what is loveable in them before they see it in themselves. I dream to shine a light on that loveable thing, so that the person can feel it and see it for themselves. I dream of a world where each person can feel that loveable part of themselves and interact with the world from a place of love and confidence and not from a place of fear or insecurity. That is my dream. It's a big dream.
You probably have a dream too. Take some time to think about it today, about how your life honors those who have come before you, about how you may have forgotten that you can clean off those muddied up dreams or create new ones. Think about that dream and then dream a little bigger.
A quote attributed to the Buddha is this: "In this world, hate never yet dispelled hate. Only love dispels hate. This is the law, ancient and inexhaustible." After grieving, may your dreams be created in love.
I am reading Letter from a Birmingham Jail by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. In the introduction, by his daughter, Rev. Bernice King, she says that her father did what was necessary to eliminate the "Triple Evils of Poverty, Racism, and War." At the end of his letter, Dr. King concludes, "Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear-drenched communities and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all of their scintillating beauty." Dr. King's words and visions inspire me just as much as his awesome actions in life.
So, this is what I want you to do to transform your sorrow. I want you to dream bigger. Dream bigger for yourself, but also dream bigger for this world and all its people. Don't be embarrassed or sheepish.
When I was in elementary school, I wanted to be the first woman President of the United States. My fifth grade teacher told me that women couldn't be President. This didn't dash my dream, but it shows how life can start muddying up our dreams so we can't see them anymore.
My dreams have changed since 5th grade. It feels vulnerable to write my dream, but it is a true one: When I give someone my full attention, I see what is loveable in them. Sometimes I see what is loveable in them before they see it in themselves. I dream to shine a light on that loveable thing, so that the person can feel it and see it for themselves. I dream of a world where each person can feel that loveable part of themselves and interact with the world from a place of love and confidence and not from a place of fear or insecurity. That is my dream. It's a big dream.
You probably have a dream too. Take some time to think about it today, about how your life honors those who have come before you, about how you may have forgotten that you can clean off those muddied up dreams or create new ones. Think about that dream and then dream a little bigger.
A quote attributed to the Buddha is this: "In this world, hate never yet dispelled hate. Only love dispels hate. This is the law, ancient and inexhaustible." After grieving, may your dreams be created in love.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
anger is a tooth
When I was still in social work school back in 1999, I was tasked by my practicum at Kids In The Middle with teaching a court mandated class on co-parenting for divorcing parents in the city of St. Louis. My supervisor and friend, Jen taught it with me. We were about 27 years old and neither of us were married. Nor had children. We were not stupid enough to think we knew exactly what we were talking about, but we did think we were kind of awesome considering the circumstances. I remember walking away from the class thinking, "I actually think that went pretty well.' We must have had some really nice, kind people we were speaking too, because I can only imagine what we looked like to our 'students' - there is no other way to say it - we were young, inexperienced white girls with a good deal of guts, but no street cred at all.
And just like with so much of life, we don't always know where our lessons will come from and which ones will stick with us. Here's one that continues with me today, 13 years later - it was part of the curriculum - something I was supposed to be teaching on those Tuesday nights so many years ago. It's so simple, it's almost childlike:
Anger is a tooth with two roots: sadness and fear.
If you think about it, almost every time you're angry you can examine the roots of that anger in sadness and fear. When my kids are bugging the hell out of each other and I finally lose my temper with them, I am sad, wondering if they will ever get along or I am fearful that I will not have a moments peace or I am fearful one of them will get hurt by the other. When I am mad at the guy who cut me off driving, at root, I am scared I will get hurt or scared that I will be late. When I have a client who is angry with her father, it may be because she is afraid she will never have the relationship with her father that she longs for. When I talk with a client who is angry with his wife, it may be because he is really sad that he doesn't know how to ask for his needs to be met.
I believe it is Thich Nhat Hanh who says that living with anger is like living in Hell. I don't think all anger is bad - in fact I've written about it before. I've read that anger is like a warning sign, a flashing light that tells us, "Pay attention. There has been a violation of some kind." Once we pay attention, I don't think we need to just throw out the anger and tell ourselves that if we're emotionally healthy we just 'get over it.'
But, I do recommend sitting with the anger for a few minutes before you respond. Try imagining that tooth. What are the roots. Are you sad? Are you fearful? If you have time, write down all the parts of that situation that might make you sad or fearful. I guarantee that when you respond, when you address the violation, you will be addressing it in a more honest way and you will feel better about how you handled that situation.
And just like with so much of life, we don't always know where our lessons will come from and which ones will stick with us. Here's one that continues with me today, 13 years later - it was part of the curriculum - something I was supposed to be teaching on those Tuesday nights so many years ago. It's so simple, it's almost childlike:
Anger is a tooth with two roots: sadness and fear.
If you think about it, almost every time you're angry you can examine the roots of that anger in sadness and fear. When my kids are bugging the hell out of each other and I finally lose my temper with them, I am sad, wondering if they will ever get along or I am fearful that I will not have a moments peace or I am fearful one of them will get hurt by the other. When I am mad at the guy who cut me off driving, at root, I am scared I will get hurt or scared that I will be late. When I have a client who is angry with her father, it may be because she is afraid she will never have the relationship with her father that she longs for. When I talk with a client who is angry with his wife, it may be because he is really sad that he doesn't know how to ask for his needs to be met.
I believe it is Thich Nhat Hanh who says that living with anger is like living in Hell. I don't think all anger is bad - in fact I've written about it before. I've read that anger is like a warning sign, a flashing light that tells us, "Pay attention. There has been a violation of some kind." Once we pay attention, I don't think we need to just throw out the anger and tell ourselves that if we're emotionally healthy we just 'get over it.'
But, I do recommend sitting with the anger for a few minutes before you respond. Try imagining that tooth. What are the roots. Are you sad? Are you fearful? If you have time, write down all the parts of that situation that might make you sad or fearful. I guarantee that when you respond, when you address the violation, you will be addressing it in a more honest way and you will feel better about how you handled that situation.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
U.S. drones in Pakistan and other wake up calls
I dreamed about war last night and weapons. I think this may be rooted in information shared this past week in the Spirituality class I assist at Wash U. After a student presentation about spirituality in the military, another student, who is from Pakistan said, 'I'd like to share something about the U.S. use of drones in Pakistan.' She went on to explain that most Americans don't know about drone use there, but drones are unmanned aircraft that are controlled remotely. They are used to bomb sites where suspected Muslim extremists may be gathering. Unfortunately, there are many inaccuracies with such a remote system and many, many civilians - including women and children have been killed.
The woman who shared this anecdote is a lovely, intelligent, and thoughtful young woman. I had a deeper sense of both connection to her and also a sense of guilt and culpability after she talked. I have heard her describe her city, her mother, and now how her fellow citizens are hurt by the actions of my government. I just read a statistic online that nearly 75% if Pakistanis consider the U.S. an enemy. For a pretty balanced report, I've attached a Wikipedia entry on 'u.s. drones in Pakistan.' http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drone_attacks_in_Pakistan
I can't tell you how many times before this I'd heard about drones on the news or read about them. At least the word 'drone'. Why did I not pay more attention? Why have I not used my curiosity to find out more about what my government is doing and where, as a representative of me? What does this have to do with emotional health?
Two things: 1) how many of us go through life, or at least parts of our life, rather drone-like ourselves. As if we are unmanned vehicles just operating by some remote pilot. We don't pay real attention to our environment, the people around us, the colors of the trees, the road we are driving on, the expression on a friend's face. We zone out and don't listen and aren't fully alive. What are we missing out on? 2) We are individuals and we have an individual emotional/mental health - but we are also a society and we have an emotional character as such. What do we want that emotional character to be? Can we help shape that? If so, how? Paying attention is one way to start.
It reminds me of a quote that I've heard attributed to Adam Horovitz of the Beastie Boys. When asked about the way the band's image changed from frat party boys, to politically conscious activists, he said, "I'd rather be a hypocrite to you, than a zombie forever."
So whether zombie, drone, the matrix or whatever you want to call it - I don't want to contribute to a world in which we say, 'that's just the way it is and I can't make a difference.' That's not good for MY mental health. In a time of year where we are getting ready to pay special attention to giving thanks, I'd like to give thanks for moments that make me uncomfortable. The moments that wake me up.
The woman who shared this anecdote is a lovely, intelligent, and thoughtful young woman. I had a deeper sense of both connection to her and also a sense of guilt and culpability after she talked. I have heard her describe her city, her mother, and now how her fellow citizens are hurt by the actions of my government. I just read a statistic online that nearly 75% if Pakistanis consider the U.S. an enemy. For a pretty balanced report, I've attached a Wikipedia entry on 'u.s. drones in Pakistan.' http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drone_attacks_in_Pakistan
I can't tell you how many times before this I'd heard about drones on the news or read about them. At least the word 'drone'. Why did I not pay more attention? Why have I not used my curiosity to find out more about what my government is doing and where, as a representative of me? What does this have to do with emotional health?
Two things: 1) how many of us go through life, or at least parts of our life, rather drone-like ourselves. As if we are unmanned vehicles just operating by some remote pilot. We don't pay real attention to our environment, the people around us, the colors of the trees, the road we are driving on, the expression on a friend's face. We zone out and don't listen and aren't fully alive. What are we missing out on? 2) We are individuals and we have an individual emotional/mental health - but we are also a society and we have an emotional character as such. What do we want that emotional character to be? Can we help shape that? If so, how? Paying attention is one way to start.
It reminds me of a quote that I've heard attributed to Adam Horovitz of the Beastie Boys. When asked about the way the band's image changed from frat party boys, to politically conscious activists, he said, "I'd rather be a hypocrite to you, than a zombie forever."
So whether zombie, drone, the matrix or whatever you want to call it - I don't want to contribute to a world in which we say, 'that's just the way it is and I can't make a difference.' That's not good for MY mental health. In a time of year where we are getting ready to pay special attention to giving thanks, I'd like to give thanks for moments that make me uncomfortable. The moments that wake me up.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
thirteen ways of looking at citizenship
I started this blog a couple years ago with the philosophy that we are healthier - emotionally, mentally, spiritually, when we let ourselves look at life from many different angles - when we allow ourselves to open ourselves up to possibilities. I've been interested over these years in the number of times I've found myself writing about citizenship and 'current events.' I am surprised to find that I believe our role as 'citizen' actually impacts our emotional life and health.
So here's a blog that's been cooking since August (maybe that's why it's so long).
In the August 6, 2012 New Yorker, Ryan Lizza profiled Paul Ryan. The following quote was attributed to Mr. Ryan: “Only by taking responsibility for oneself, to the greatest extent possible, can one ever be free,” he wrote, “and only a free person can make responsible choices—between right and wrong, saving and spending, giving or taking.” http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/08/06/120806fa_fact_lizza#ixzz2B3vsd5DZ
I've done a lot of thinking about this. I am juxtaposing the thinking about freedom Mr. Ryan has done as a politician and the thinking I have done about freedom in my work as a therapist.
I should probably back up.
I have to confess my political leanings, in case you haven't guessed. I lean toward liberal. In the past, I have been probably what I would call a 'knee jerk' liberal. My father, a Republican in my childhood, and now maybe an independent, used to accuse my mother of brainwashing me during my naps as a child by playing Peter, Paul, and Mary and the Kingston Trio and other peace and love hippie music. Certainly FDR was a big, big hero on my mom's side of the family and therefore, to me. And of my generation, I was influenced by the Cold War, the threat of nuclear holocaust - does anyone else remember, "The Day After" ?!?
Then, I spent over the last decade of my life as a social worker. In that time, I have seen nearly every kind of social problem, every kind of illness, every kind of ruinous living condition that you can imagine, but not as many of those situations as some of my colleagues. As you know, the problems are staggering, and the answers are inadequate. It can feel overwhelming. If I found it depressing to visit a crack house to deliver adult diapers to a dying man, I couldn't begin to imagine being the ex-girlfriend who took care of him. I saw that government programs existed, but didn't always help. I saw people on disability and food stamps carrying cell phones and smoking cigarettes. I saw children who were abused and the government system did not keep them safe.
And then I think about freedom. About taking responsbility for oneself, as Paul Ryan says. And in the face of vast suffering, I can at least consider how and why it might feel like the best answer to whittle complexity down to a simple belief, i.e., "This country is founded on freedom, not collectivism. If each person or family took care of his or her own, and left the next to take care of his or her own, we would not be subject to paternalistic and cumbersome policies and in a state of freedom, social problems would diminish and people/enterprise would flourish." I can understand that thinking in a way that I used to not understand it.
Yet in this, I come back to wondering about definitions of freedom - freedom to do what? Freedom from what? Are we talking about the freedom to make money? Are we talking about free access to healthcare? To marry who you want to marry? Who's freedom?
There are many different kinds of freedom, which makes this discussion even more nuanced.
I have no delusion that government is the answer to every problem, or even the one answer to any one problem. But, I want to continue to raise the question about meaning - what can we mean by freedom? When Republicans and Democrats talk with one another, are they using the same understanding of the word, "free?" Before we judge 'the other guy' or 'the other position', it might be good to figure out if we're even talking about the same thing.
One thing we can agree on is that because we have this democratic society, we can talk about these issues publicly and without fear of retribution, and we can make the most well-thought out choices we can when we vote on Tuesday.
I am not a knee-jerk liberal any longer. I am a liberal who is willing to consider with respect a more conservative outlook. Back in the day, my dad used to accuse me of being naive, mostly due to my dove-ish tendencies, but I don't feel naive. I feel like I am compelled to think and learn about every point of view and reach my own conclusions. I hope you will feel that way, too.
So here's a blog that's been cooking since August (maybe that's why it's so long).
In the August 6, 2012 New Yorker, Ryan Lizza profiled Paul Ryan. The following quote was attributed to Mr. Ryan: “Only by taking responsibility for oneself, to the greatest extent possible, can one ever be free,” he wrote, “and only a free person can make responsible choices—between right and wrong, saving and spending, giving or taking.” http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2012/08/06/120806fa_fact_lizza#ixzz2B3vsd5DZ
I've done a lot of thinking about this. I am juxtaposing the thinking about freedom Mr. Ryan has done as a politician and the thinking I have done about freedom in my work as a therapist.
I should probably back up.
I have to confess my political leanings, in case you haven't guessed. I lean toward liberal. In the past, I have been probably what I would call a 'knee jerk' liberal. My father, a Republican in my childhood, and now maybe an independent, used to accuse my mother of brainwashing me during my naps as a child by playing Peter, Paul, and Mary and the Kingston Trio and other peace and love hippie music. Certainly FDR was a big, big hero on my mom's side of the family and therefore, to me. And of my generation, I was influenced by the Cold War, the threat of nuclear holocaust - does anyone else remember, "The Day After" ?!?
Then, I spent over the last decade of my life as a social worker. In that time, I have seen nearly every kind of social problem, every kind of illness, every kind of ruinous living condition that you can imagine, but not as many of those situations as some of my colleagues. As you know, the problems are staggering, and the answers are inadequate. It can feel overwhelming. If I found it depressing to visit a crack house to deliver adult diapers to a dying man, I couldn't begin to imagine being the ex-girlfriend who took care of him. I saw that government programs existed, but didn't always help. I saw people on disability and food stamps carrying cell phones and smoking cigarettes. I saw children who were abused and the government system did not keep them safe.
And then I think about freedom. About taking responsbility for oneself, as Paul Ryan says. And in the face of vast suffering, I can at least consider how and why it might feel like the best answer to whittle complexity down to a simple belief, i.e., "This country is founded on freedom, not collectivism. If each person or family took care of his or her own, and left the next to take care of his or her own, we would not be subject to paternalistic and cumbersome policies and in a state of freedom, social problems would diminish and people/enterprise would flourish." I can understand that thinking in a way that I used to not understand it.
Yet in this, I come back to wondering about definitions of freedom - freedom to do what? Freedom from what? Are we talking about the freedom to make money? Are we talking about free access to healthcare? To marry who you want to marry? Who's freedom?
There are many different kinds of freedom, which makes this discussion even more nuanced.
I have no delusion that government is the answer to every problem, or even the one answer to any one problem. But, I want to continue to raise the question about meaning - what can we mean by freedom? When Republicans and Democrats talk with one another, are they using the same understanding of the word, "free?" Before we judge 'the other guy' or 'the other position', it might be good to figure out if we're even talking about the same thing.
One thing we can agree on is that because we have this democratic society, we can talk about these issues publicly and without fear of retribution, and we can make the most well-thought out choices we can when we vote on Tuesday.
I am not a knee-jerk liberal any longer. I am a liberal who is willing to consider with respect a more conservative outlook. Back in the day, my dad used to accuse me of being naive, mostly due to my dove-ish tendencies, but I don't feel naive. I feel like I am compelled to think and learn about every point of view and reach my own conclusions. I hope you will feel that way, too.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Don't give up. Keep going.
Several dear friends and family members have said to me, particularly since I went into private practice, that some of the 'craziest' people they know are therapists and psychologists. I don't take this personally, because I am certain they are not talking about me. I mean, I am at total emotional peace and ease, 100 percent of the time, so the comment could not possibly apply.
Well...ok... ask my sister or husband how I did with our recent move. I found myself incredibly frustrated and sad to see that a couple of the 'issues' that I'd worked on for myself over the years just seemed to crop up again and I didn't seem to be able to get the brakes on it. Maybe the biggest for me is 'overwork.' That doesn't mean literally just work, it's like workaholism that runs the gamut of housework, errands, in this case - packing, calling and dealing with all the various people who deal with house and moving stuff. Under stress, I tend to get to where I won't take a break. I resent going to the bathroom, because it takes me away from my tasks. This is what my sister and I call the "rat on cocaine" gene. I have no idea how we came up with this phrase (so evocative of me running around the house packing boxes and refusing to take a bathroom break!), but obviously, we have to blame our parents for our issues, so we've determined that it's genetic in origin. Mom and Dad, I really am just kidding about blaming parents and/or the genetic part.
Here's the problem for me - something I see in the human condition in general, whether it's my clients or my friends or myself: the unhealthy behavior is not a new thing. I've seen overwork in myself and seen that it makes me feel burned out, exhausted, and resentful. Why am I doing it again? Why, when I know better, do I let stress trigger me into doing stuff I know doesn't work out well for me in the long run? Why do any of us, when we know better, do the same thing over and over again, whether it's overworking, overdrinking, overworrying, sticking our heads in the sand to avoid problems, picking fights when we really know we shouldn't, etc., etc.?
Oh yeah...we are human. If you have been bumping up against the same issue again and again in your life, that's okay. It's what we tell ourselves about our patterns and how we get out of them once we're in that we can pay attention to. \
One thing I liked about how I handled this particular moving situation is that I knew what was happening while it was happening. I didn't wake up 3 months later and go - 'Hey Katy, you really were a rat on cocaine during that move. Why did you do that?" I knew I was doing it as I was doing it. I also like that I asked for help quickly. I started telling some family and friends, "I am not doing so great."
The other thing that helped was a chance encounter with an inspiring woman who works at the Juvenile Detention Center in St. Louis. I accompanied some students from the class I help with at Wash U to a service project they're doing at the detention center. The woman who gave us our tour of the facility is a social worker and it was clear she loves the kids she works with. She said that the positive adults who work and volunteer with these youth (who are adjudicated because of a variety of possible crimes from petty theft to murder), are planting seeds. She said, they might not remember a whole lot about the youth leaders on down the road, but years later, they may say, "that lady at the detention center. She told me not to give up. Keep trying. Keep going."
In our own moments when we feel frustrated, angry, or down because we are looking the same issue in the face again, we'd do well to remember these words. Don't give up. Keep trying. Keep going.
Well...ok... ask my sister or husband how I did with our recent move. I found myself incredibly frustrated and sad to see that a couple of the 'issues' that I'd worked on for myself over the years just seemed to crop up again and I didn't seem to be able to get the brakes on it. Maybe the biggest for me is 'overwork.' That doesn't mean literally just work, it's like workaholism that runs the gamut of housework, errands, in this case - packing, calling and dealing with all the various people who deal with house and moving stuff. Under stress, I tend to get to where I won't take a break. I resent going to the bathroom, because it takes me away from my tasks. This is what my sister and I call the "rat on cocaine" gene. I have no idea how we came up with this phrase (so evocative of me running around the house packing boxes and refusing to take a bathroom break!), but obviously, we have to blame our parents for our issues, so we've determined that it's genetic in origin. Mom and Dad, I really am just kidding about blaming parents and/or the genetic part.
Here's the problem for me - something I see in the human condition in general, whether it's my clients or my friends or myself: the unhealthy behavior is not a new thing. I've seen overwork in myself and seen that it makes me feel burned out, exhausted, and resentful. Why am I doing it again? Why, when I know better, do I let stress trigger me into doing stuff I know doesn't work out well for me in the long run? Why do any of us, when we know better, do the same thing over and over again, whether it's overworking, overdrinking, overworrying, sticking our heads in the sand to avoid problems, picking fights when we really know we shouldn't, etc., etc.?
Oh yeah...we are human. If you have been bumping up against the same issue again and again in your life, that's okay. It's what we tell ourselves about our patterns and how we get out of them once we're in that we can pay attention to. \
One thing I liked about how I handled this particular moving situation is that I knew what was happening while it was happening. I didn't wake up 3 months later and go - 'Hey Katy, you really were a rat on cocaine during that move. Why did you do that?" I knew I was doing it as I was doing it. I also like that I asked for help quickly. I started telling some family and friends, "I am not doing so great."
The other thing that helped was a chance encounter with an inspiring woman who works at the Juvenile Detention Center in St. Louis. I accompanied some students from the class I help with at Wash U to a service project they're doing at the detention center. The woman who gave us our tour of the facility is a social worker and it was clear she loves the kids she works with. She said that the positive adults who work and volunteer with these youth (who are adjudicated because of a variety of possible crimes from petty theft to murder), are planting seeds. She said, they might not remember a whole lot about the youth leaders on down the road, but years later, they may say, "that lady at the detention center. She told me not to give up. Keep trying. Keep going."
In our own moments when we feel frustrated, angry, or down because we are looking the same issue in the face again, we'd do well to remember these words. Don't give up. Keep trying. Keep going.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
moving and blessings
First, I want to acknowledge that I've been 'gone' from the blog for longer than I intended. As a family, we moved homes almost two weeks ago, and I can safely say I've had yet another 'learning experience.' Learning experiences are really a mixed bag, aren't they? The upshot is this: when someone asks you if they can help you, you should say 'yes.'
But what I wanted to write about, really, came as surprise yesterday as I was preparing for a presentation I'm making to the Spirituality and Social Work class I assist with in the Fall semester at the Brown School at Wash U. Some of you may have seen that I sent out on facebook an 'ask' for my Jewish friends and family to write a little to me about how they connect with their religion and where they find meaning in their tradition (oh, yeah - my presentation is on Judaism and Social Work).
After the fb post there was a mild flurry of activity. I was totally thrilled at the enthusiasm and joy in the responses. As an unforeseen bonus, I was connected with the cantor, Leslie Caplan, at Central Reform Congregation, and had a delightful conversation with her. In the context of a bigger story, she shared with me the idea of blessing, which I will attempt to re-share with you all because I found it touching. Also, my apologies if I'm not getting it totally accurate (I hope it's the spirit of the law, if not the letter of the law).
A blessing is when we act in a way that demonstrates some essence of another person and in a sense honors that person. When we do this, we bless that person. I imagine, in the origination of the word and it's meaning, a blessing would be a serious thing. For example, my Uncle Warren, who died almost ten years ago this Christmas was a person known to me to make very kind, unexpected and thoughtful gestures. I remember in college when he learned that I was taking a metaphysical poetry class, he sent me his metaphysical poetry book from Yale with a very thoughtful note. When I make kind, thoughtful, unexpected gestures for others, this is a blessing on my uncle. We can do this for those who are living or dead, as I understand it.
I feel a sense of awe when I think about that, which by my way of thinking is a spiritual feeling. I wonder also if we bless people in more mundane, but still meaningful ways - when my sister makes my grandmother's icebox rolls at the holidays or when my husband hushes us in church out of deference to his grandfather, the minister. We have all been greatly influenced by the people we love -if feels good to praise them through our actions and pass along the best of them.
Thanks to everyone who is helping me with this presentation by sharing their stories and making these connections with and for me.
But what I wanted to write about, really, came as surprise yesterday as I was preparing for a presentation I'm making to the Spirituality and Social Work class I assist with in the Fall semester at the Brown School at Wash U. Some of you may have seen that I sent out on facebook an 'ask' for my Jewish friends and family to write a little to me about how they connect with their religion and where they find meaning in their tradition (oh, yeah - my presentation is on Judaism and Social Work).
After the fb post there was a mild flurry of activity. I was totally thrilled at the enthusiasm and joy in the responses. As an unforeseen bonus, I was connected with the cantor, Leslie Caplan, at Central Reform Congregation, and had a delightful conversation with her. In the context of a bigger story, she shared with me the idea of blessing, which I will attempt to re-share with you all because I found it touching. Also, my apologies if I'm not getting it totally accurate (I hope it's the spirit of the law, if not the letter of the law).
A blessing is when we act in a way that demonstrates some essence of another person and in a sense honors that person. When we do this, we bless that person. I imagine, in the origination of the word and it's meaning, a blessing would be a serious thing. For example, my Uncle Warren, who died almost ten years ago this Christmas was a person known to me to make very kind, unexpected and thoughtful gestures. I remember in college when he learned that I was taking a metaphysical poetry class, he sent me his metaphysical poetry book from Yale with a very thoughtful note. When I make kind, thoughtful, unexpected gestures for others, this is a blessing on my uncle. We can do this for those who are living or dead, as I understand it.
I feel a sense of awe when I think about that, which by my way of thinking is a spiritual feeling. I wonder also if we bless people in more mundane, but still meaningful ways - when my sister makes my grandmother's icebox rolls at the holidays or when my husband hushes us in church out of deference to his grandfather, the minister. We have all been greatly influenced by the people we love -if feels good to praise them through our actions and pass along the best of them.
Thanks to everyone who is helping me with this presentation by sharing their stories and making these connections with and for me.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
the downside of team sports
One of my friends came home from being out this weekend to see that the Cubs flag he hangs in front of his St. Louis house had been burned. As a lifelong St. Louisan, it's embarrassing. But, I know it's not uniquely embarrassing behavior on the part of fans from my hometown. I can also can tell you the story of a petite little lady I know who went to Chicago for a Cardinals/Cubs game and made the mistake of wearing her Cardinals ballcap on the El. I kid you not when I tell you that she got cold-cocked in the face by a drunk Cubs fan.
I don't get it. I suck at being a fan. It makes me feel sheepishly un-American, but I literally don't understand how people feel these deep personal attachments and therefore a sense of identity linked to these attachments. I enjoy watching athleticism, but I don't feel affiliated with a 'side.' I can enjoy watching a Chinese diver just as much as an American diver. I have no sense that I am more important or cooler or more talented because someone from 'my side' wins.
Yet, working in hospice, I truly appreciated how being a Cardinals fan and watching the games brought some life and enjoyment to people who were very sick. The history of the team gave a lot of elderly people a feeling that was almost like family. It was very sweet. But, I didn't get it in a way that felt personal for me. I didn't feel it in my heart.
That may just be the way I'm wired, and I've probably lost a lot of readers here, because they're like 'well, I don't get YOU.'
But, here's where I get stuck. The flag burning and cold-cocking. Most team sports are fun to watch, but sometimes 'fanaticism' reduces 'the other person' into 'the other.' And as humans, we tend to be afraid of and angry at 'the other' - whether that is the Cubs fan, the Democrat, the Republican, the Russian, the Chinese, the gay, the atheist, the Muslim.
If I am a fan of anything, it may be that I am a fan of 'thinking for yourself.' Let's all wonder about our own beliefs - do we have traditions, fears, or blindspots that shape our choices of how we treat or avoid other people? Do we want to hold onto those or let them go?
Thinking for yourself is an individual sport. As a runner, I highly recommend it. We really don't need blind affiliations to any group to have a sense of identity and purpose. When I run, I need very little. I have my shoes, the quiet of the street at dawn, the moon fading and the sun rising, and my own thoughts, which often lead me to more questions than answers.
I don't get it. I suck at being a fan. It makes me feel sheepishly un-American, but I literally don't understand how people feel these deep personal attachments and therefore a sense of identity linked to these attachments. I enjoy watching athleticism, but I don't feel affiliated with a 'side.' I can enjoy watching a Chinese diver just as much as an American diver. I have no sense that I am more important or cooler or more talented because someone from 'my side' wins.
Yet, working in hospice, I truly appreciated how being a Cardinals fan and watching the games brought some life and enjoyment to people who were very sick. The history of the team gave a lot of elderly people a feeling that was almost like family. It was very sweet. But, I didn't get it in a way that felt personal for me. I didn't feel it in my heart.
That may just be the way I'm wired, and I've probably lost a lot of readers here, because they're like 'well, I don't get YOU.'
But, here's where I get stuck. The flag burning and cold-cocking. Most team sports are fun to watch, but sometimes 'fanaticism' reduces 'the other person' into 'the other.' And as humans, we tend to be afraid of and angry at 'the other' - whether that is the Cubs fan, the Democrat, the Republican, the Russian, the Chinese, the gay, the atheist, the Muslim.
If I am a fan of anything, it may be that I am a fan of 'thinking for yourself.' Let's all wonder about our own beliefs - do we have traditions, fears, or blindspots that shape our choices of how we treat or avoid other people? Do we want to hold onto those or let them go?
Thinking for yourself is an individual sport. As a runner, I highly recommend it. We really don't need blind affiliations to any group to have a sense of identity and purpose. When I run, I need very little. I have my shoes, the quiet of the street at dawn, the moon fading and the sun rising, and my own thoughts, which often lead me to more questions than answers.
Friday, August 31, 2012
what happens when an adversary becomes a teacher
I am thinking about an old boss of mine. I was young, the office was small (three people), and she was an exacting perfectionist. The work was intense - 'special events' - and sometimes I worked as many as 80 hours in a week. Because the office was so small, sometimes the work felt personal...almost like a family. My boss scared me. She was so perfect. And controlled. And never seemed to flinch at the number of hours we worked. She never broke character. At least this is how I interpreted her with my 24 year old brain. I tried really hard to live up to her expectations of me (which I felt were to be just like her). I knew I failed when I ended up crying in the supply closet. When she discovered me there crying, she yelled at me and sent me home. I found another job in the next few months.
I'm thinking about this because of a note I found written in a journal of mine - in the past few months, a friend of mine said, "the people who bring us the greatest challenge and pain are our greatest teachers."
I know my old boss didn't bring me the "greatest challenge and pain" in my life, but she brought me some. I never knew whether I wanted to hate her, for her to like me, whether she was my friend or adversary. How confusing! What did I learn from her? What did she teach me? It's an interesting way to look at someone who is bringing you now (or brought you in the past), hurt, discomfort, anger, unrest or grief. I think it can be a way to learn from everyone in our lives from bosses, to crushes, to our own parents or children...what is it that I am learning about myself , about what I need or want from this person? I am being taught by a teacher, that I never expected.
I think about my old boss now. What did I learn? At that time I was taught lessons that fit with my 24 year old self: I learned that the job felt bad, because it was bad for me - not because there was something wrong with me that I needed to fix to make myself fit the job. I learned that it wasn't good for me to be around a person that made me feel like I needed to lie. Now, I think as an older woman - how I want to mentor and nurture and teach younger people. Also, as my older self, I see that I have a little of her in me, and that is a part of me that isn't as healthy as it could be. I can be exacting and hard on myself (ouch! it's not easy to find honest answers to our questions).
Maybe someone is challenging you right now. Our most important relationships tend to be complicated. It might be interesting to take a few minute and ask yourself, "what is this person teaching me?" Take enough time to write your answers down. It may be that you not only are enlightened by what you find, but that your relationship with that person lightens up too.
I'm thinking about this because of a note I found written in a journal of mine - in the past few months, a friend of mine said, "the people who bring us the greatest challenge and pain are our greatest teachers."
I know my old boss didn't bring me the "greatest challenge and pain" in my life, but she brought me some. I never knew whether I wanted to hate her, for her to like me, whether she was my friend or adversary. How confusing! What did I learn from her? What did she teach me? It's an interesting way to look at someone who is bringing you now (or brought you in the past), hurt, discomfort, anger, unrest or grief. I think it can be a way to learn from everyone in our lives from bosses, to crushes, to our own parents or children...what is it that I am learning about myself , about what I need or want from this person? I am being taught by a teacher, that I never expected.
I think about my old boss now. What did I learn? At that time I was taught lessons that fit with my 24 year old self: I learned that the job felt bad, because it was bad for me - not because there was something wrong with me that I needed to fix to make myself fit the job. I learned that it wasn't good for me to be around a person that made me feel like I needed to lie. Now, I think as an older woman - how I want to mentor and nurture and teach younger people. Also, as my older self, I see that I have a little of her in me, and that is a part of me that isn't as healthy as it could be. I can be exacting and hard on myself (ouch! it's not easy to find honest answers to our questions).
Maybe someone is challenging you right now. Our most important relationships tend to be complicated. It might be interesting to take a few minute and ask yourself, "what is this person teaching me?" Take enough time to write your answers down. It may be that you not only are enlightened by what you find, but that your relationship with that person lightens up too.
Friday, August 17, 2012
this I believe: love
The weekly ritual after our team meeting when I worked in home hospice: We dimmed the conference room lights and lit a candle. A colleague (usually a chaplain), read the names of those who died that week in our care. If any of us had worked with that patient, we were encouraged to say a few words about the person, their family, or our experience as a caregiver. I'll never forget the story a young nurse told. She was a beautiful, intelligent woman. Tall and red-headed and possessing that air of competency and compassion that we all want in a nurse or doctor. She had a quick, warm smile. I'll call her Kate. Kate worked in the poorest neighborhoods in St. Louis - the areas where we occasionally needed security escorts, where there were stop signs on corners covered in posters and decorated with teddy bears because it's where a kid had been shot and killed.
On this day during our memorial time, Kate told about a poor man, dying virtually alone. He was in his early twenties - younger than we were! He had a place to be, a 'home', but the people around him were not coping well with his care. I don't remember if they were family or friends, but in his weakened and confused state he kept throwing himself out of his bed onto the floor. They were angry and frustrated with this. In hospice, we call this 'terminal restlessness', and odd, restless behaviors are not necessarily uncommon. One day, Kate walked in and he was on the floor again. Something dawned on her - he was so terribly weak, so wretchedly frail. "He wants to die on the floor," she realized. And she got down on the floor and put her arms around him. After a short time, he died on the floor, in her arms.
I will always be awed by her love. To me, this was an act of spontaneous love and mercy. I witnessed and was a part of many such moments during my work in hospice. It made me into, what Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. might call, an extremist for love. There are many uncertainties in this life, but I know that we are put here to love one another. To grow to be unafraid of loving one another. To grow to be unafraid of feeling the love others have for us, and knowing we are loved.
Recently, I have been saddened to witness and be touched by violence and death, both in my community in and my professional life. I am humbled by the healing we all need.
Violence and death pull up many uncertainties in us. Yet, if I had to say I believed only one thing, I would have to say this: Love. I believe the boy who died in Kate's arms experienced some type of healing and peace through love and her willingness to overcome internal fears, and conventional rules and norms.
I have friends from every spiritual and non-spiritual system of belief...but, it's hard for me to write about love without writing about God. Almost daily, I witness something more powerful and profound, more miraculous than the many hard times that can be a part of our lives. I call this "God." And there's not much I can know about God for sure, but I have experienced love.
In dark moments love may come to you in unexpected forms and places . You are also an agent of love. This I believe.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
National Alliance on Mental Illness - www.nami.org
I woke up this morning to a slow rain and faraway thunderstorm. It feels good after all this dry and heat. And there's also something melancholy about the rain and a dawn that is dark.
I am aware that there is a funeral in my small community this weekend. As has been reported in the news, a mother in our area, who'd apparently suffered from terrible depression, killed her children and herself.
We live in a world full of the unknown and the unknowable. Several people this week have asked me, as a grief therapist, "why?"
There are not simple answers. In this time that is so grievous to so many, I don't know how much room there is for hope. I think it is insensitive to ask people to 'hope' before they are ready. Yet, as a grief therapist, and someone who has been around death and dying for much of my professional life, as someone who has worked with survivors of a loved ones' suicide, or homicide, and even murder-suicide, what I hear again and again from survivors is that they wish there was more public knowledge, information and understanding about mental illness.
If you or someone you love has mental illness, please know that there are resources and help. The National Alliance on Mental Illness www.nami.org is a great place to start.
There are many kinds of mental illness. Some kinds feel terrible to the person who is suffering. Some, oddly enough may look like suffering to us on the outside, but the person with the mental illness, doesn't feel bad or they aren't aware that they're putting themselves in danger.
Sometimes, when we hear about or are touched by terrible and sad events in our communities and our world, we feel for an instant that it is an outrageous thing to hope. Yet, I must dream of a time where these types of tragedies, whether it is in my community or in Aurora, Colorado are, literally NOT. Hope can be found where there is love and understanding, where we all know that we are not alone, and that our suffering does not need to be a secret or a source of shame.
I am aware that there is a funeral in my small community this weekend. As has been reported in the news, a mother in our area, who'd apparently suffered from terrible depression, killed her children and herself.
We live in a world full of the unknown and the unknowable. Several people this week have asked me, as a grief therapist, "why?"
There are not simple answers. In this time that is so grievous to so many, I don't know how much room there is for hope. I think it is insensitive to ask people to 'hope' before they are ready. Yet, as a grief therapist, and someone who has been around death and dying for much of my professional life, as someone who has worked with survivors of a loved ones' suicide, or homicide, and even murder-suicide, what I hear again and again from survivors is that they wish there was more public knowledge, information and understanding about mental illness.
If you or someone you love has mental illness, please know that there are resources and help. The National Alliance on Mental Illness www.nami.org is a great place to start.
There are many kinds of mental illness. Some kinds feel terrible to the person who is suffering. Some, oddly enough may look like suffering to us on the outside, but the person with the mental illness, doesn't feel bad or they aren't aware that they're putting themselves in danger.
Sometimes, when we hear about or are touched by terrible and sad events in our communities and our world, we feel for an instant that it is an outrageous thing to hope. Yet, I must dream of a time where these types of tragedies, whether it is in my community or in Aurora, Colorado are, literally NOT. Hope can be found where there is love and understanding, where we all know that we are not alone, and that our suffering does not need to be a secret or a source of shame.
Friday, July 20, 2012
off and on the Zen wagon
I have a dear friend and colleague, Charli Prather, who writes a blog called Military Zen Mom http://militaryzenmom.com/ - she is the mom of a son in the military and he's often in perilous parts of the world and cannot communicate with her. He's great at his work, which certainly makes it more perilous. As you can imagine, it's hard to be 'zen' when your kid, even your adult kid, is a soldier. I admire her a whole lot!
I, too, imagine that I have some inner 'Zen.' Zen mom, Zen therapist, Zen wife, Zen daughter, Zen driver in traffic, Zen grocery store shopper, Zen help the kids get ready for school person. I imagine that there is this person in me with an intrinsic ability to be spontaneous, to see and understand the big picture, to be accepting of my own foibles and the foibles of others.
Oh yeah, and then there's real life. That other lady is kind of in my imagination.
In my family, we are currently in the midst of making some big decisions - happy ones, but they feel weighty. Some parts feel out of my control. This little sentence: 'some parts feel out of my control' - is a big trigger for me.
Under duress, here's what I do: 1) I start worrying. 2) I makes lists (look, even this is a list) 3) I cross things off my list as I do them and then add 5 more for every one I do. 4) I get irritable 5) I get overtired 6) I get mad at myself for getting irritable and overtired and distracted from what I know is really important, i.e. the health and welfare of those I love and also just loving them.
I know I'm not the only one.
Ok, so I'm doing something new and it's kind of working. I am not going 100% Zen in some moment of enlightenment. No. I am talking myself into moments of letting go of control. I say to myself, 'Listen, Lady, you've seen enough of life to know that most things turn out okay in the end.' I feel a little sense of calm. Maybe that lasts 1/2 hour. Then, I go back to list-maker extraordinaire mode. Then, I remember that I am not the most powerful force in the universe and I feel better for a while. Then, I monkey with the to-do list again. And so on.
I notice a lot of us don't start to make changes in how we think or act even though we suspect we could feel differently or better in our lives. Sometimes, we know clearly what we could do to feel a greater sense of well-being, but the changes seem overwhelmingly big. Or, we 'fall off the wagon' with whatever the thing is and we don't get back on for a long time.
Here's my idea. Make the change - even if it's for 5 minutes. This week, facing 'BIG DECISIONS', when I fall off the Zen wagon, I'm just getting back on. Even if it's 10 times in the same day. I feel better.
I, too, imagine that I have some inner 'Zen.' Zen mom, Zen therapist, Zen wife, Zen daughter, Zen driver in traffic, Zen grocery store shopper, Zen help the kids get ready for school person. I imagine that there is this person in me with an intrinsic ability to be spontaneous, to see and understand the big picture, to be accepting of my own foibles and the foibles of others.
Oh yeah, and then there's real life. That other lady is kind of in my imagination.
In my family, we are currently in the midst of making some big decisions - happy ones, but they feel weighty. Some parts feel out of my control. This little sentence: 'some parts feel out of my control' - is a big trigger for me.
Under duress, here's what I do: 1) I start worrying. 2) I makes lists (look, even this is a list) 3) I cross things off my list as I do them and then add 5 more for every one I do. 4) I get irritable 5) I get overtired 6) I get mad at myself for getting irritable and overtired and distracted from what I know is really important, i.e. the health and welfare of those I love and also just loving them.
I know I'm not the only one.
Ok, so I'm doing something new and it's kind of working. I am not going 100% Zen in some moment of enlightenment. No. I am talking myself into moments of letting go of control. I say to myself, 'Listen, Lady, you've seen enough of life to know that most things turn out okay in the end.' I feel a little sense of calm. Maybe that lasts 1/2 hour. Then, I go back to list-maker extraordinaire mode. Then, I remember that I am not the most powerful force in the universe and I feel better for a while. Then, I monkey with the to-do list again. And so on.
I notice a lot of us don't start to make changes in how we think or act even though we suspect we could feel differently or better in our lives. Sometimes, we know clearly what we could do to feel a greater sense of well-being, but the changes seem overwhelmingly big. Or, we 'fall off the wagon' with whatever the thing is and we don't get back on for a long time.
Here's my idea. Make the change - even if it's for 5 minutes. This week, facing 'BIG DECISIONS', when I fall off the Zen wagon, I'm just getting back on. Even if it's 10 times in the same day. I feel better.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
in praise of idleness and imagination
I almost bought a 1978 Ford F100 this week. While out running, I'd seen the truck on the street with a For Sale sign in it. It was beat up and rusted and it looked like something Tim Riggins would drive in Friday Night Lights (one of the best tv shows ever). Something about that truck was calling me. I have never in my life wanted a 'toy' - not like that. I never have given myself the room and frivolity to even consider a toy. Something about that truck was beautiful to me and I wanted it. And my sweet husband (who likes trucks), said, "why don't you call the guy and we'll test drive it."
I felt tingly inside, rejuvenated, just thinking about that truck. I imagined driving down the road to work with my hair blowing in the breeze. I imagined friends calling me to help them move stuff. It would be awesome. I liked the feeling that I surprised myself. When was the last time you surprised yourself? If you're a dutiful adult, it's probably been a long time.
One of the reaons, I think, we don't surprise ourselves, we don't see and feel the adventures and possibilities in life, is that we're too busy, a la the well-written op-ed from Tim Kreider in the past week's NY Times http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/06/30/the-busy-trap/?smid=fb-share about the pitfalls of busy-ness, and our false notions that busy-ness equated to our life's meaning and importance. I liked the article, though the tone is kind of scold-y.
I'll give you a couple less scold-y resources in praise of idleness and imagination - one of the best books, most uplifting fun and inspiring I've read- Brenda Ueland's, If You Want To Write. She praises idleness, but distinguishes it from laziness, "But if it is the dreamy idleness that children have, an idleness when you walk alone for a long, long time, or take a long, dreamy time at dressing, or lie in bed at night and thoughts come and go...with all my heart I tell you and reassure you: at such times your are being slowly filled and recharged with warm imagination, with wonderful, living thoughts."
You see, I think our imagination - me imagining myself in some new way, in the truck for example, is something that feeds our health and humanity. And we don't have to imagine ourselves, I think we could imagine anything - I am certain that Steve Jobs was a great imaginer. Our leaders in government would probably be serving us much better, if they were less 'busy' and more imaginative.
I am currently reading another book, My Stroke of Insight by Jill Bolte Taylor, PhD. She was a brain scientist who had a massive stroke in her mid-30s. She writes, "as members of the same human species, you and I share all but .01 percent of identical genetic sequences...Looking around at the diversity within our human race, it is obvious that .01 percent accounts for significant difference in how we look, think, and behave.
I love that! I think that idleness, followed by imagination leads to our soul's expression (if you don't believe in a soul, I really just mean the unique thing that is YOU).
So, you may be disappointed to know that I didn't get the truck. Not that truck. I am certain the right truck for me is in my future. And I also figured out that possessing the truck is not the important thing...it was the surprise of a mind (my mind) that was open to possibility, to imagining myself in a different way, of expressing myself in a different way, and in that imagining, feeling the wind and sun on my face, the open road ahead of me, feeling free.
I felt tingly inside, rejuvenated, just thinking about that truck. I imagined driving down the road to work with my hair blowing in the breeze. I imagined friends calling me to help them move stuff. It would be awesome. I liked the feeling that I surprised myself. When was the last time you surprised yourself? If you're a dutiful adult, it's probably been a long time.
One of the reaons, I think, we don't surprise ourselves, we don't see and feel the adventures and possibilities in life, is that we're too busy, a la the well-written op-ed from Tim Kreider in the past week's NY Times http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/06/30/the-busy-trap/?smid=fb-share about the pitfalls of busy-ness, and our false notions that busy-ness equated to our life's meaning and importance. I liked the article, though the tone is kind of scold-y.
I'll give you a couple less scold-y resources in praise of idleness and imagination - one of the best books, most uplifting fun and inspiring I've read- Brenda Ueland's, If You Want To Write. She praises idleness, but distinguishes it from laziness, "But if it is the dreamy idleness that children have, an idleness when you walk alone for a long, long time, or take a long, dreamy time at dressing, or lie in bed at night and thoughts come and go...with all my heart I tell you and reassure you: at such times your are being slowly filled and recharged with warm imagination, with wonderful, living thoughts."
You see, I think our imagination - me imagining myself in some new way, in the truck for example, is something that feeds our health and humanity. And we don't have to imagine ourselves, I think we could imagine anything - I am certain that Steve Jobs was a great imaginer. Our leaders in government would probably be serving us much better, if they were less 'busy' and more imaginative.
I am currently reading another book, My Stroke of Insight by Jill Bolte Taylor, PhD. She was a brain scientist who had a massive stroke in her mid-30s. She writes, "as members of the same human species, you and I share all but .01 percent of identical genetic sequences...Looking around at the diversity within our human race, it is obvious that .01 percent accounts for significant difference in how we look, think, and behave.
I love that! I think that idleness, followed by imagination leads to our soul's expression (if you don't believe in a soul, I really just mean the unique thing that is YOU).
So, you may be disappointed to know that I didn't get the truck. Not that truck. I am certain the right truck for me is in my future. And I also figured out that possessing the truck is not the important thing...it was the surprise of a mind (my mind) that was open to possibility, to imagining myself in a different way, of expressing myself in a different way, and in that imagining, feeling the wind and sun on my face, the open road ahead of me, feeling free.
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
saying what you mean, listening to what's said
How many of us have ever found ourselves being on one end or another of this conversation:
Person 1: "What's wrong?"
Person 2: "Nothing."
Person 1: "Oh, it just seems like something's wrong."
Person 2: "Well, there's not."
How many Person 1's have walked away from that conversation not believing Person 2? How many Person 1's start looking for ways that Person 2 is actually mad, but just not saying it.
What is this all about? Why is this so common? In how many ways is this unhealthy for all of us?
I'm going to posit a theory that I notice from both my own life and from my experience in my work. Person 1 has usually had a formative experience with an original Person 2 who was an indirect communicator.
Let's make this more concrete...if, for example, my first serious boyfriend who I was 'with' for four years from ages 16 to 20 was an indirect communicator, I may have asked, "what's wrong?" sometime when we were driving to a party. "Nothing," he might have said, but then at the party he gave me the silent treatment or flirted with other girls.
Or, for example, if I asked my mother, "what's wrong?" and when I was 9 years old, and she said, "Nothing," but then stomped around the house and slammed kitchen cabinets and was very short-tempered, and this was part of a longstanding pattern, I might have learned to not trust her verbal information and try to read very carefully her non-verbal information.
Some people might say the Person 2 in these examples is 'passive aggressive," and I agree that might be a convenient label. More generously, we might also say that these particular Person 2's are not in touch with their feelings or how their feelings might impact their actions. Or, they might simply be very, very afraid of conflict and unable to directly address whatever is wrong.
So now we have sussed out a little of a common pattern in relationships - the WHY of this situation.
Here is what I'd like to consider to improve the emotional health of Person 1s and some Person 2's everywhere.
Person 1 - listen to me, now. Don't generalize whatever you picked up from your 'passive aggressive' relationship onto other relationships! Live in the present, not the past! You may actually be dealing with a Person 2 who is being honest when they say 'nothing is wrong.' If nothing is wrong (and it probably isn't), you must relax. Stop paying attention to every nuance of Person 2's behavior, voice inflection, breathing. Take them at their word. It's their responsibility to let you know if something is wrong.
Now, if you are a Person 2 who finds that you actually, well, yeah, sometimes take things out on someone you care about without explaining why you're mad, or punish them just a little, or kind of enjoy that they come to you and kind of have to kiss up to you...stop it. Speaking honestly is one of the most important components of self-respect. If someone asks you if something's wrong, you might simply want to answer, ' I don't know. Let me think about it and I'll tell you when I have a clear idea about what's going on.' We don't always have to have an immediate answer to every interpersonal interaction.
If you're a Person 2 who really means nothing is wrong...what can I say...try to have patience with your Person 1. Understand you have a great opportunity to help heal something that is painful.
I must confess that in my life, I have tended to be more of a Person 1 - a caregiver, a reader of non-verbal cues. I don't think I am as much this way now - certainly not in the same ways I was when I was younger and struggling more with interpersonal relationships. Now, I tend to use my skills of intuition, reading non-verbal cues, tone of voice, understanding of human nature, in my work and writing. This is part of my healing. And in the end, much of what I think we all can imagine and hope for, is to really live in the PRESENT and not the past. To understand the moment, our relationships, our loves and ourselves as we are NOW, and not in the shadows of past pains.
Person 1: "What's wrong?"
Person 2: "Nothing."
Person 1: "Oh, it just seems like something's wrong."
Person 2: "Well, there's not."
How many Person 1's have walked away from that conversation not believing Person 2? How many Person 1's start looking for ways that Person 2 is actually mad, but just not saying it.
What is this all about? Why is this so common? In how many ways is this unhealthy for all of us?
I'm going to posit a theory that I notice from both my own life and from my experience in my work. Person 1 has usually had a formative experience with an original Person 2 who was an indirect communicator.
Let's make this more concrete...if, for example, my first serious boyfriend who I was 'with' for four years from ages 16 to 20 was an indirect communicator, I may have asked, "what's wrong?" sometime when we were driving to a party. "Nothing," he might have said, but then at the party he gave me the silent treatment or flirted with other girls.
Or, for example, if I asked my mother, "what's wrong?" and when I was 9 years old, and she said, "Nothing," but then stomped around the house and slammed kitchen cabinets and was very short-tempered, and this was part of a longstanding pattern, I might have learned to not trust her verbal information and try to read very carefully her non-verbal information.
Some people might say the Person 2 in these examples is 'passive aggressive," and I agree that might be a convenient label. More generously, we might also say that these particular Person 2's are not in touch with their feelings or how their feelings might impact their actions. Or, they might simply be very, very afraid of conflict and unable to directly address whatever is wrong.
So now we have sussed out a little of a common pattern in relationships - the WHY of this situation.
Here is what I'd like to consider to improve the emotional health of Person 1s and some Person 2's everywhere.
Person 1 - listen to me, now. Don't generalize whatever you picked up from your 'passive aggressive' relationship onto other relationships! Live in the present, not the past! You may actually be dealing with a Person 2 who is being honest when they say 'nothing is wrong.' If nothing is wrong (and it probably isn't), you must relax. Stop paying attention to every nuance of Person 2's behavior, voice inflection, breathing. Take them at their word. It's their responsibility to let you know if something is wrong.
Now, if you are a Person 2 who finds that you actually, well, yeah, sometimes take things out on someone you care about without explaining why you're mad, or punish them just a little, or kind of enjoy that they come to you and kind of have to kiss up to you...stop it. Speaking honestly is one of the most important components of self-respect. If someone asks you if something's wrong, you might simply want to answer, ' I don't know. Let me think about it and I'll tell you when I have a clear idea about what's going on.' We don't always have to have an immediate answer to every interpersonal interaction.
If you're a Person 2 who really means nothing is wrong...what can I say...try to have patience with your Person 1. Understand you have a great opportunity to help heal something that is painful.
I must confess that in my life, I have tended to be more of a Person 1 - a caregiver, a reader of non-verbal cues. I don't think I am as much this way now - certainly not in the same ways I was when I was younger and struggling more with interpersonal relationships. Now, I tend to use my skills of intuition, reading non-verbal cues, tone of voice, understanding of human nature, in my work and writing. This is part of my healing. And in the end, much of what I think we all can imagine and hope for, is to really live in the PRESENT and not the past. To understand the moment, our relationships, our loves and ourselves as we are NOW, and not in the shadows of past pains.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Like Facebook
I've been intrigued by what facebook has done for our mental health. As a therapist, I cannot tell you how often fb comes up as a topic.
Here's what I notice primarily: Facebook can be socially really rough for some people. It is a source of constant social comparison. At a simple level, "how many friends do I have" compared with other people? In a more nuanced emotional expression, I notice that many people are both cynical of how their 'friends' present themselves publicly as well as jealous and insecure (i.e., her family looks like they have so much fun! Joe goes on better vacations than I do!, or all my friends in Seattle are having the best time together, they're not going to care about being friend with me anymore!). I would say this is easily the most negative outcome for a lot of folks.
But I also see ways fb influences us that are kind of 'in-between' - neither wholly good nor wholly negative... something we can stay aware of and curious about. Sometimes we feel a sense of anxiety or disconnection - fb can be an easy fix to feel connected again. "I burned my chocolate chip cookies!" Or "my kid had the flu" - it's a great feeling to have a bunch of friends offer their quick support - I know I've truly appreciated it, when I've reached out over fb in that way. We also want to share and connect in celebration - I think most of us mostly enjoy the opportunity to celebrate and acknowledge our good friends. On the other end of the spectrum, we may miss out on connecting with people who are with us, physically, including our kids, when we are getting such instant gratification from fb. We feel lulled by sometimes surface relationships and find it easy to ignore people who are there with us. Most people I know who are on fb lament what a time suck it can be. I'm a person who gets on fb 4-6 times a week, but whenever I am, I'm like "Oh my gosh, I've been on here a half hour and I had no idea!"
I also think it's interesting the way fb brings our past into our present. We are easily able to be in community in immediate and accessible ways with people, who even ten years ago would have been sort of marked in the compartment of our 'past.' Recently, I've had a couple really meaningful reconnections with friends, who 'pre-fb' might have been much harder to find. Yet, I wonder if kids graduating from high school in 2012 will find the same meaning in looking at different times in their life that people in my generation and older have had. Again, I don't condemn this or long for an earlier time, I just believe that if fb is not a 'fad' and will be a tool that all of us utilize on into our old age, it will impact our sense of time, nostalgia, and the very meaning of our own 'past.' What will that be like?
In the end, I just want us to be curious and thoughtful about fb. I would love to instruct all my 'young' clients to: STOP COMPARING YOURSELF TO EVERYBODY ON FACEBOOK. If you find that you're one of these people, I recommend scaling way back on your usage. A phrase many of us have heard and is worth repeating is, "you can't compare your insides to somebody else's outsides."
We are all more interesting, complicated, flawed, and gifted than our fb profiles. Thankfully.
Here's what I notice primarily: Facebook can be socially really rough for some people. It is a source of constant social comparison. At a simple level, "how many friends do I have" compared with other people? In a more nuanced emotional expression, I notice that many people are both cynical of how their 'friends' present themselves publicly as well as jealous and insecure (i.e., her family looks like they have so much fun! Joe goes on better vacations than I do!, or all my friends in Seattle are having the best time together, they're not going to care about being friend with me anymore!). I would say this is easily the most negative outcome for a lot of folks.
But I also see ways fb influences us that are kind of 'in-between' - neither wholly good nor wholly negative... something we can stay aware of and curious about. Sometimes we feel a sense of anxiety or disconnection - fb can be an easy fix to feel connected again. "I burned my chocolate chip cookies!" Or "my kid had the flu" - it's a great feeling to have a bunch of friends offer their quick support - I know I've truly appreciated it, when I've reached out over fb in that way. We also want to share and connect in celebration - I think most of us mostly enjoy the opportunity to celebrate and acknowledge our good friends. On the other end of the spectrum, we may miss out on connecting with people who are with us, physically, including our kids, when we are getting such instant gratification from fb. We feel lulled by sometimes surface relationships and find it easy to ignore people who are there with us. Most people I know who are on fb lament what a time suck it can be. I'm a person who gets on fb 4-6 times a week, but whenever I am, I'm like "Oh my gosh, I've been on here a half hour and I had no idea!"
I also think it's interesting the way fb brings our past into our present. We are easily able to be in community in immediate and accessible ways with people, who even ten years ago would have been sort of marked in the compartment of our 'past.' Recently, I've had a couple really meaningful reconnections with friends, who 'pre-fb' might have been much harder to find. Yet, I wonder if kids graduating from high school in 2012 will find the same meaning in looking at different times in their life that people in my generation and older have had. Again, I don't condemn this or long for an earlier time, I just believe that if fb is not a 'fad' and will be a tool that all of us utilize on into our old age, it will impact our sense of time, nostalgia, and the very meaning of our own 'past.' What will that be like?
In the end, I just want us to be curious and thoughtful about fb. I would love to instruct all my 'young' clients to: STOP COMPARING YOURSELF TO EVERYBODY ON FACEBOOK. If you find that you're one of these people, I recommend scaling way back on your usage. A phrase many of us have heard and is worth repeating is, "you can't compare your insides to somebody else's outsides."
We are all more interesting, complicated, flawed, and gifted than our fb profiles. Thankfully.
Friday, May 18, 2012
allowing other people to change
I've always said my son is hot-tempered. He has red hair and since he was a toddler has known how to tantrum with the best of them. As he's gotten older, of course this looks different than throwing himself on the grocery store floor and screaming, but still. I've worried for him that he wouldn't find a way to control and focus his anger/aggression or even just loosen up on it. So, I was amazed and my heart filled this week when I got to see him spar for one of the first times in karate. He was awesome. He was focused, unafraid, but controlled. He kept his sense of humor, even when he got hurt. With the guidance of their teacher, he and his sparring partner helped one another become better. One of the reasons it was so cool for me is that I saw how my definition of my child, this "hot head" might not be so accurate anymore. He is changing and as a mom I can see that the qualities of focus and sense of humor together will help him in his whole life.
It reminded me, in a way, of a time when my sister was about 19 and I was 23. She was in college and I lived in DC. I had always been a pretty 'mature' older sister...rather parental toward her. One day we were talking on the phone and she got irritated with me (I still remember where I was sitting - at my office desk for "Special Events of Union Station") and she yelled, "I'm not a child anymore! It's time you stopped treating me like one." It was a total lightbulb. She had changed and I wasn't seeing it and I was treating her in old ways that didn't work anymore.
We do this all the time with people. Our parents, our spouses, our friends. We define them in certain ways - some unflattering - "she's the friend who never calls back" "she's the wife who is critical." Sometimes people change and we're so stuck in the past that we don't see what's right in front of us.
I remember telling someone a few years ago that a man I'd known for a long time was an 'a**hole.' Then I thought what a damning thing that is to say. Maybe he's not an a**hole anymore, I thought. I checked it out. Guess what? He wasn't an a**hole. Maybe he never had been and it was my lens of looking at the world that made him seem such. Well, live and learn.
I recommend observing. For a little bit, listen and watch people you are in relationship with as if you were just getting to know them. Maybe they've changed and you haven't noticed. Just like we all want to be seen and known for who we are, so do they.
It reminded me, in a way, of a time when my sister was about 19 and I was 23. She was in college and I lived in DC. I had always been a pretty 'mature' older sister...rather parental toward her. One day we were talking on the phone and she got irritated with me (I still remember where I was sitting - at my office desk for "Special Events of Union Station") and she yelled, "I'm not a child anymore! It's time you stopped treating me like one." It was a total lightbulb. She had changed and I wasn't seeing it and I was treating her in old ways that didn't work anymore.
We do this all the time with people. Our parents, our spouses, our friends. We define them in certain ways - some unflattering - "she's the friend who never calls back" "she's the wife who is critical." Sometimes people change and we're so stuck in the past that we don't see what's right in front of us.
I remember telling someone a few years ago that a man I'd known for a long time was an 'a**hole.' Then I thought what a damning thing that is to say. Maybe he's not an a**hole anymore, I thought. I checked it out. Guess what? He wasn't an a**hole. Maybe he never had been and it was my lens of looking at the world that made him seem such. Well, live and learn.
I recommend observing. For a little bit, listen and watch people you are in relationship with as if you were just getting to know them. Maybe they've changed and you haven't noticed. Just like we all want to be seen and known for who we are, so do they.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
say anything
One of the most absurd memories I have from being a hospice social worker is going to start out sounding rather callous. Please bear with me. It was when I got a nurse's report that one of my male patients in his nineties might be planning to kill himself. His family feared it and didn't know what to do. So, the nurse calls me and asks me to go do a suicide assessment.
I find the man in bed, nearly too weak to get up, and very hard of hearing. A suicide assessment can't be that nuanced a thing...it's not a matter you really tiptoe around. This one lacked any subtlety whatsoever. Here's what I had to do: get in bed with the 90 year old man and shout in his ear, "ARE YOU PLANNING TO KILL YOURSELF?!"
This is what he answered, "Are you one of those goddammed do-gooders?!?"
That makes me laugh even now, 6 years later. I certainly hadn't expected that answer.
He told me he'd thought about killing himself, which for many patients with a terminal diagnosis, is perfectly normal. He didn't do it. And while I could tell he'd been a difficult and imposing character for his family for his whole life, I did admire orneriness.
But this post isn't about suicidality. It's about how I've found my life transformed because I've been forced to have so many difficult conversations with people. I've had to discuss taboos, name the 'elephant in the room,' strong arm people to go to the hospital, challenge many an 'old man' (not easy for many of us who grew up to respect our elders.) But, it's really been a wonderful learning experience for me, because what I've learned and been able to take into my personal life is that you can really say anything - it's just how you say it.
Many of us have imaginary conversations in our heads because we've been hurt by someone, are worried about something, or assumed the other guy was thinking something but we're not sure. In my private practice, I see that many interpersonal hurts and grudges are perpetuated needlessly because many people are reluctant to check in with others about difficult things.
Here's what I've learned about saying hard things:
1) Be curious. Don't assume you know. Ask, rather than make an accusations.
2) Have a sense of humor, not a sarcastic one, but a gentle sense of humor and be able to laugh at yourself.
3) Have a loving, compassionate intention. Hard conversations seem to be called for most urgently when we are angry or worried. Starting from a place of saying to yourself, "I am a person just trying to do my best in the world and most likely this other guy is just a person trying to do his best in the world too." You have compassion for yourself and the other person before even starting the conversation.
This is not all there is to it, and I know I will continue to learn, but what talking with people about difficult things has done for me is open up my relationships to be deeper and more real. I don't hold little grudges and just keep my relationships on the surface in order to protect myself. I also find myself less shy about expressing my love and gratitude for people in my life...this can feel vulnerable and even difficult for some people too, but for me, I've never regretted it.
I find the man in bed, nearly too weak to get up, and very hard of hearing. A suicide assessment can't be that nuanced a thing...it's not a matter you really tiptoe around. This one lacked any subtlety whatsoever. Here's what I had to do: get in bed with the 90 year old man and shout in his ear, "ARE YOU PLANNING TO KILL YOURSELF?!"
This is what he answered, "Are you one of those goddammed do-gooders?!?"
That makes me laugh even now, 6 years later. I certainly hadn't expected that answer.
He told me he'd thought about killing himself, which for many patients with a terminal diagnosis, is perfectly normal. He didn't do it. And while I could tell he'd been a difficult and imposing character for his family for his whole life, I did admire orneriness.
But this post isn't about suicidality. It's about how I've found my life transformed because I've been forced to have so many difficult conversations with people. I've had to discuss taboos, name the 'elephant in the room,' strong arm people to go to the hospital, challenge many an 'old man' (not easy for many of us who grew up to respect our elders.) But, it's really been a wonderful learning experience for me, because what I've learned and been able to take into my personal life is that you can really say anything - it's just how you say it.
Many of us have imaginary conversations in our heads because we've been hurt by someone, are worried about something, or assumed the other guy was thinking something but we're not sure. In my private practice, I see that many interpersonal hurts and grudges are perpetuated needlessly because many people are reluctant to check in with others about difficult things.
Here's what I've learned about saying hard things:
1) Be curious. Don't assume you know. Ask, rather than make an accusations.
2) Have a sense of humor, not a sarcastic one, but a gentle sense of humor and be able to laugh at yourself.
3) Have a loving, compassionate intention. Hard conversations seem to be called for most urgently when we are angry or worried. Starting from a place of saying to yourself, "I am a person just trying to do my best in the world and most likely this other guy is just a person trying to do his best in the world too." You have compassion for yourself and the other person before even starting the conversation.
This is not all there is to it, and I know I will continue to learn, but what talking with people about difficult things has done for me is open up my relationships to be deeper and more real. I don't hold little grudges and just keep my relationships on the surface in order to protect myself. I also find myself less shy about expressing my love and gratitude for people in my life...this can feel vulnerable and even difficult for some people too, but for me, I've never regretted it.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
what LSD and 12-step programs have in common (it might not be what you think)
It's my observation that one of the greatest sources of pain for humans is a feeling of isolation and alone-ness. I remember in my early 20s, living in Washington, D.C., and trying to begin to find my way as an adult, I felt very strongly that we all might as well face the harsh reality that, "you come into this world alone and you die alone." Don't forget to cue the dramatic music when you say things like this.
As an almost forty year old woman, I feel very differently. I've observed many, many people over my 13 years as a social worker. People from vastly different socio-economic backgrounds, religious traditions (or lack thereof), ethnic variation, etc. I've read many books, listened to CDs, and taken classes from many wise people. I've come to believe that our sense of isolation is a selfish kind of illusion. Kind of like a bad hair day in junior high school, when you think, 'God, everyone is probably looking at me and wondering how she can let herself out of the house with that ugly hair.' The truth, as we get older is that no one cares about our hair as much as we do. When we feel oh-so-alone we get a sick kind of pleasure out of it - 'no one understands me!' I don't think we allow ourselves to see things as they really are - that in many important ways we are connected with one another and, at the risk of sounding hyperbolic, with we are connected with everything.
Two pieces of media in the past week were illuminating to me along these lines. First, an interview on Talk of the Nation last Thursday: http://www.npr.org/2012/04/19/150974004/crack-addict-aspires-to-ninety-days-of-sobriety
with Bill Clegg, who wrote Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man, a book about his experience as an alcoholic and drug addict, and his sobriety. He talks about the 12-step community and wishing that every un-addicted person could experience the same sense of community that people in recovery do. His 12-step community provides him a place to check in with other people who remind him that he is not alone in his struggles. His community keeps him humble as he faces addiction.
Kind of ironically, I found another great article that talked about experiencing a spiritual sense of community/communion as part of cutting edge palliative care for people dealing with life-threatening illness or actually facing the end of life. In very controlled, clinical settings, psilocybin, the active ingredient in 'magic mushrooms' is being used to assist people with facing their fears surrounding their own end of life. The article is from the New York Times Magazine on Sunday, http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/22/magazine/how-psychedelic-drugs-can-help-patients-face-death.html?ref=magazine
This is research that I've been reading about for several years and it looks good - that the controlled use of this substance in a clinical setting can profoundly and positively reduce anxiety and fear related to facing end of life. I like what Dr. John Halpern says (he is head of the Laboratory for Integrative Psychiatry at McLean Hospital in Belmont, MA), "you have an experience in which you feel there is something you are a part of, something else is out there that's bigger than you, that there is a dazzling unity you belong to, that love is possible and all these realizations are imbued with deep meaning." This is a transcendent experience. Many very spiritual people (yogis, contemplative nuns/monks) experience this without using substances...but to me, this speaks to the mystery and the draw to unnameable sense that many of us have, "I don't know what it is, but there is something very good, and bigger than anything I can possibly understand."
In the end, we must allow for paradox. We are comforted in being unique and we are comforted in feeling and knowing that we are interconnected. Do we need magic mushrooms to get there? Do we need support groups? I don't know. I just encourage you to look at the world around you, listen to all different kinds of people. Your compassion will increase, your sense of connectedness - with yourself and with others. The world will be less scary and far, far less painful.
As an almost forty year old woman, I feel very differently. I've observed many, many people over my 13 years as a social worker. People from vastly different socio-economic backgrounds, religious traditions (or lack thereof), ethnic variation, etc. I've read many books, listened to CDs, and taken classes from many wise people. I've come to believe that our sense of isolation is a selfish kind of illusion. Kind of like a bad hair day in junior high school, when you think, 'God, everyone is probably looking at me and wondering how she can let herself out of the house with that ugly hair.' The truth, as we get older is that no one cares about our hair as much as we do. When we feel oh-so-alone we get a sick kind of pleasure out of it - 'no one understands me!' I don't think we allow ourselves to see things as they really are - that in many important ways we are connected with one another and, at the risk of sounding hyperbolic, with we are connected with everything.
Two pieces of media in the past week were illuminating to me along these lines. First, an interview on Talk of the Nation last Thursday: http://www.npr.org/2012/04/19/150974004/crack-addict-aspires-to-ninety-days-of-sobriety
with Bill Clegg, who wrote Portrait of an Addict as a Young Man, a book about his experience as an alcoholic and drug addict, and his sobriety. He talks about the 12-step community and wishing that every un-addicted person could experience the same sense of community that people in recovery do. His 12-step community provides him a place to check in with other people who remind him that he is not alone in his struggles. His community keeps him humble as he faces addiction.
Kind of ironically, I found another great article that talked about experiencing a spiritual sense of community/communion as part of cutting edge palliative care for people dealing with life-threatening illness or actually facing the end of life. In very controlled, clinical settings, psilocybin, the active ingredient in 'magic mushrooms' is being used to assist people with facing their fears surrounding their own end of life. The article is from the New York Times Magazine on Sunday, http://www.nytimes.com/2012/04/22/magazine/how-psychedelic-drugs-can-help-patients-face-death.html?ref=magazine
This is research that I've been reading about for several years and it looks good - that the controlled use of this substance in a clinical setting can profoundly and positively reduce anxiety and fear related to facing end of life. I like what Dr. John Halpern says (he is head of the Laboratory for Integrative Psychiatry at McLean Hospital in Belmont, MA), "you have an experience in which you feel there is something you are a part of, something else is out there that's bigger than you, that there is a dazzling unity you belong to, that love is possible and all these realizations are imbued with deep meaning." This is a transcendent experience. Many very spiritual people (yogis, contemplative nuns/monks) experience this without using substances...but to me, this speaks to the mystery and the draw to unnameable sense that many of us have, "I don't know what it is, but there is something very good, and bigger than anything I can possibly understand."
In the end, we must allow for paradox. We are comforted in being unique and we are comforted in feeling and knowing that we are interconnected. Do we need magic mushrooms to get there? Do we need support groups? I don't know. I just encourage you to look at the world around you, listen to all different kinds of people. Your compassion will increase, your sense of connectedness - with yourself and with others. The world will be less scary and far, far less painful.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
it's just a movie
"Life is a comedy for those who think, and a tragedy for those who feel." - Horace Walpole
In college I went with my roommate to see the movie, "Awakenings" with Robert De Niro and Robin Williams. It was about Dr. Oliver Sacks, who worked with institutionalized adults who awoke, briefly, from persistent, nearly vegetative existence. I bawled my eyes out. As the lights rose and people began to exit the theater, my dear roommate, Krissie, looked at me very matter of factly and with near disdain and said, "It's just a movie."
You know, life changes you. Experience shaped me from being a feeler to a thinker (that thinker was probably in there all along, but that's another part of the story).
Mary Pipher is a psychotherapist and author, who I admire a great deal. She wrote Reviving Ophelia and Letters to Young Therapist, among other books. In Letters to a Young Therapist, she conveyed that people have three functions: THINK, FEEL, and DO (ACTION). Most of us are out of balance toward one of these things.
Now, as I said, I am a thinker. Sometimes I imagine that my brain is my main sensory organ, with fingers of thought that reach out and experience the world. Whether it's a first impression or a gradual understanding, I am very aware of my thoughts. For me, it's probably easiest for me to "do", next. I think that's something I enjoyed about working in hospice, where an emergency or unpredictable situation could come up at any moment - it's not hard for me to think, then act. I guess, something akin to people who work in an ER.
So at this moment in my life, my biggest challenge, the place I most have to pay attention, is my feelings. I am so busy thinking and doing, that I don't always take the time to feel. I notice this particularly under stress - at my worst, I can turn into kind of automaton, a la Mr. Spock from Star Trek. I don't think this comes across to people on the outside, but I've realized that this is what can happen inside.
But, as always, it seems like what we all need is: First, AWARENESS/INSIGHT and Then, BALANCE. Poetry has become an important way for me to pay attention to, and feel my feelings. Journaling is something else that helps me. Listening to music, going to movies, taking time for silence and meditation, these are ways for me to not turn off my feelings (or trick myself into thinking they're turned off).
Maybe your wife is a feeler and you're a thinker. Maybe you're a feeler and your boss is a do-er. You can see where these differences can sometimes be wonderful and complementary and other times lead to conflict! I've found that it's worth considering whether we tend to be thinkers, do-ers, or feelers. Not only can it help us begin to get a better sense of balance, a steadier place to come from, it can help us understand where we might be having differences with people we love.
In college I went with my roommate to see the movie, "Awakenings" with Robert De Niro and Robin Williams. It was about Dr. Oliver Sacks, who worked with institutionalized adults who awoke, briefly, from persistent, nearly vegetative existence. I bawled my eyes out. As the lights rose and people began to exit the theater, my dear roommate, Krissie, looked at me very matter of factly and with near disdain and said, "It's just a movie."
You know, life changes you. Experience shaped me from being a feeler to a thinker (that thinker was probably in there all along, but that's another part of the story).
Mary Pipher is a psychotherapist and author, who I admire a great deal. She wrote Reviving Ophelia and Letters to Young Therapist, among other books. In Letters to a Young Therapist, she conveyed that people have three functions: THINK, FEEL, and DO (ACTION). Most of us are out of balance toward one of these things.
Now, as I said, I am a thinker. Sometimes I imagine that my brain is my main sensory organ, with fingers of thought that reach out and experience the world. Whether it's a first impression or a gradual understanding, I am very aware of my thoughts. For me, it's probably easiest for me to "do", next. I think that's something I enjoyed about working in hospice, where an emergency or unpredictable situation could come up at any moment - it's not hard for me to think, then act. I guess, something akin to people who work in an ER.
So at this moment in my life, my biggest challenge, the place I most have to pay attention, is my feelings. I am so busy thinking and doing, that I don't always take the time to feel. I notice this particularly under stress - at my worst, I can turn into kind of automaton, a la Mr. Spock from Star Trek. I don't think this comes across to people on the outside, but I've realized that this is what can happen inside.
But, as always, it seems like what we all need is: First, AWARENESS/INSIGHT and Then, BALANCE. Poetry has become an important way for me to pay attention to, and feel my feelings. Journaling is something else that helps me. Listening to music, going to movies, taking time for silence and meditation, these are ways for me to not turn off my feelings (or trick myself into thinking they're turned off).
Maybe your wife is a feeler and you're a thinker. Maybe you're a feeler and your boss is a do-er. You can see where these differences can sometimes be wonderful and complementary and other times lead to conflict! I've found that it's worth considering whether we tend to be thinkers, do-ers, or feelers. Not only can it help us begin to get a better sense of balance, a steadier place to come from, it can help us understand where we might be having differences with people we love.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
walking a mile in another man's shoes
In 9th grade English class, we read To Kill a Mockingbird, and in addition to the paper that we had to write on the theme "conscience", I most remember our bubbly little teacher, Mrs. Campbell, repeating Atticus Finch's words "you can never really know a man until you walk a mile in his shoes." (Atticus is such an awesome dad).
So, this week I tried that out, in a more specific way. In theory, I'm forever walking a mile in another man's shoes, or at least trying to, because as a therapist, empathy is one of my more important tools. But this week, I found myself considering empathy in amore personal way - an issue came up with someone in my life - and in many ways, I felt I couldn't understand where that person was coming from.
I'm a big advocate of journaling - so I was journaling about this issue and suddenly the idea came to me about walking a mile in another man's shoes. I decided to write a letter to myself as if I were that other person, a letter that had me addressing the conflict to ME, but from THAT person's point of view entirely.
It really helped. For me, it didn't help because suddenly I understood something about the 'other side' that I didn't understand before. I could have told you all the facts before I wrote the letter. What it helped me do was feel the other person's feelings. And when I felt those feelings, my heart opened up a little. The whole situation feels a little looser to me now, the conflict doesn't feel like a conflict.
So, this week I tried that out, in a more specific way. In theory, I'm forever walking a mile in another man's shoes, or at least trying to, because as a therapist, empathy is one of my more important tools. But this week, I found myself considering empathy in amore personal way - an issue came up with someone in my life - and in many ways, I felt I couldn't understand where that person was coming from.
I'm a big advocate of journaling - so I was journaling about this issue and suddenly the idea came to me about walking a mile in another man's shoes. I decided to write a letter to myself as if I were that other person, a letter that had me addressing the conflict to ME, but from THAT person's point of view entirely.
It really helped. For me, it didn't help because suddenly I understood something about the 'other side' that I didn't understand before. I could have told you all the facts before I wrote the letter. What it helped me do was feel the other person's feelings. And when I felt those feelings, my heart opened up a little. The whole situation feels a little looser to me now, the conflict doesn't feel like a conflict.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
you are already whole
A lot of us like to armchair diagnose ourselves - "I'm so OCD." "I think I have generalized anxiety disorder." "Depression runs in my family and I have the gene."
And if you look at, listen to, read our popular media, much of it plays into our inkling that we are deficient, flawed, or less than. I've had many clients want affirmation from me when they says things like, "Aren't I sick?" or "I'm really f'ed up, aren't I?"
I want to say, no, no, no. Don't say that to yourself. This lens of sickness and diagnosis, these words that put you in a definition, are most often self-created prisons that prevent us from experiencing the reality of our lives.
What would be like if we all would take time to imagine that we might already be whole and healthy. That there is a healthy "you" just waiting to be discovered and allowed to interact with the world. I really believe that mostly, the whole person, the whole spirit, the healthy version of us already exists within us. We do possess the inner wisdom of who that person is - that's why it feels so uncomfortable when that version of ourselves isn't able to engage in life. What we most need is courage to let that healthy version of ourselves emerge. Our healthy selves can make others around us feel judged or threatened, because they aren't ready to be healthy yet. We must overcome our need to sacrifice ourselves to make other people feel comfortable. We can be our healthy selves in loving ways in the world and it can give other people courage to do the same.
And if you look at, listen to, read our popular media, much of it plays into our inkling that we are deficient, flawed, or less than. I've had many clients want affirmation from me when they says things like, "Aren't I sick?" or "I'm really f'ed up, aren't I?"
I want to say, no, no, no. Don't say that to yourself. This lens of sickness and diagnosis, these words that put you in a definition, are most often self-created prisons that prevent us from experiencing the reality of our lives.
What would be like if we all would take time to imagine that we might already be whole and healthy. That there is a healthy "you" just waiting to be discovered and allowed to interact with the world. I really believe that mostly, the whole person, the whole spirit, the healthy version of us already exists within us. We do possess the inner wisdom of who that person is - that's why it feels so uncomfortable when that version of ourselves isn't able to engage in life. What we most need is courage to let that healthy version of ourselves emerge. Our healthy selves can make others around us feel judged or threatened, because they aren't ready to be healthy yet. We must overcome our need to sacrifice ourselves to make other people feel comfortable. We can be our healthy selves in loving ways in the world and it can give other people courage to do the same.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
after red flags...heroic questions and why I care
I wrote the other week about the Invisible Children/Kony 2012 video and I wasn't the only one. I've been interested to see how it's played out in the media, what others have made of it - positive and negative. It continued to ripple with me in several ways:
I intended Red Flags as a a cautionary piece about who and what we trust as sources of information and inspiration. Who do we make our heroes? What is heroic about them?
Being a public person or putting yourself out there as a potentially public persona is a responsibility and one in our culture that pretty much all of us should think about in some way - with FB, Twitter, blogging, etc, almost everyone has some version of a public face. I think we must constantly ask ourselves why we do what we do, say what we say, choose to be public with certain aspects of ourselves.
Why do I write this blog? Is it for ego? Is it to feel important or worthy? I must always be honest with myself, even if the answers are unflattering.
I used to feel critical of blogging...I thought it was kind of narcissistic and representative of a culture of reflection, i.e., "I exist because you see me existing. I am important because you (the viewer/reader) tell me I'm important." Yuck. Here is how I changed: I worked in hospice and I began writing. I feel a sheer pleasure from writing and attempting to have my thoughts organize themselves in a cohesive form. I also realize (this is the tricky, ego part), that my work in hospice gave me a unique perspective on life, mental health, and spirituality - my experiences shaped my thoughts and my thoughts shaped how and what I wrote about. I found that I had things I wanted to say and I felt it was okay to publicly claim that my voice and perspective might be helpful, might be worthy of being heard. I must check this voice constantly to make sure I am responsible with it, that I am true to myself as best I know myself at the moment I am writing.
My sister sent me a link http://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2012/03/the-white-savior-industrial-complex/254843/?single_page=true to this piece from The Atlantic; also a ripple from the Kony business. I try to be careful with my words and tone, but that doesn't mean I don't experience rage at times. I've found that rage is a step and sometimes a necessary one on a path. Some things are worthy of rage. I felt the rage from Mr. Cole's piece, particularly his tweets, and I understood it. I don't think he ends in rage, and I know I can't stay there either. Rage is it's own kind of enthusiasm (something Mr. Cole is quite critical of) and it's an emotion that we should treat with respect and caution.
I admire Mr. Cole's truth, his nuanced exploration of his response to the "White Savior Industrial Complex." I like that he raises more questions than he has answers. This is the type of thinking that is heroic to me.
Also for me, I must ask myself- what does this have to do with mental health? Emotional well-being? Here is one part of an answer: our media is a great part of how we experience this world we live in. It shapes our thoughts, feelings, actions. It is powerful in our lives. The more I write, the more I feel that media and politics are vehicles to explore what kind of people we are, and what kind of world we want to help create. That sense of being active participants and creators - not just receivers of information- is integral to our healthy and whole experience of our lives. That's what I'm thinking today.
I intended Red Flags as a a cautionary piece about who and what we trust as sources of information and inspiration. Who do we make our heroes? What is heroic about them?
Being a public person or putting yourself out there as a potentially public persona is a responsibility and one in our culture that pretty much all of us should think about in some way - with FB, Twitter, blogging, etc, almost everyone has some version of a public face. I think we must constantly ask ourselves why we do what we do, say what we say, choose to be public with certain aspects of ourselves.
Why do I write this blog? Is it for ego? Is it to feel important or worthy? I must always be honest with myself, even if the answers are unflattering.
I used to feel critical of blogging...I thought it was kind of narcissistic and representative of a culture of reflection, i.e., "I exist because you see me existing. I am important because you (the viewer/reader) tell me I'm important." Yuck. Here is how I changed: I worked in hospice and I began writing. I feel a sheer pleasure from writing and attempting to have my thoughts organize themselves in a cohesive form. I also realize (this is the tricky, ego part), that my work in hospice gave me a unique perspective on life, mental health, and spirituality - my experiences shaped my thoughts and my thoughts shaped how and what I wrote about. I found that I had things I wanted to say and I felt it was okay to publicly claim that my voice and perspective might be helpful, might be worthy of being heard. I must check this voice constantly to make sure I am responsible with it, that I am true to myself as best I know myself at the moment I am writing.
My sister sent me a link http://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2012/03/the-white-savior-industrial-complex/254843/?single_page=true to this piece from The Atlantic; also a ripple from the Kony business. I try to be careful with my words and tone, but that doesn't mean I don't experience rage at times. I've found that rage is a step and sometimes a necessary one on a path. Some things are worthy of rage. I felt the rage from Mr. Cole's piece, particularly his tweets, and I understood it. I don't think he ends in rage, and I know I can't stay there either. Rage is it's own kind of enthusiasm (something Mr. Cole is quite critical of) and it's an emotion that we should treat with respect and caution.
I admire Mr. Cole's truth, his nuanced exploration of his response to the "White Savior Industrial Complex." I like that he raises more questions than he has answers. This is the type of thinking that is heroic to me.
Also for me, I must ask myself- what does this have to do with mental health? Emotional well-being? Here is one part of an answer: our media is a great part of how we experience this world we live in. It shapes our thoughts, feelings, actions. It is powerful in our lives. The more I write, the more I feel that media and politics are vehicles to explore what kind of people we are, and what kind of world we want to help create. That sense of being active participants and creators - not just receivers of information- is integral to our healthy and whole experience of our lives. That's what I'm thinking today.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
red flags
As a therapist, some of what I do is help people learn to recognize red flags. What makes another person trustworthy or not trustworthy. If you grew up in an emotionally or physically violent family, it's possible that the cues aren't clear for you, because danger and love are mixed up together.
So, sometimes, I try to help people slow down before they put their trust in someone. To listen to, rather than ignore their intuition. To ask themselves, does something about this other person or situation make you uncomfortable? Before we proceed with that relationship, let's just sit with the uncomfortable feeling and try to figure out where it comes from.
So I found myself employing this technique with myself as I watched this viral video from Invisible Children last night. Many of you may have already seen it - I'm linking to the NPR story which will also take you to the viral video: http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/03/07/148146240/ugandan-warlord-joseph-kony-under-spotlight-thanks-to-viral-video
As I slowed myself down and sat with my feelings of discomfort (it's a great cause - why was I getting that skeptical, yeah right, feeling!?!?), here is what I came up with:
1) This is propaganda. Propaganda, even for a good cause, is emotionally manipulative. I want to ask the maker of the film, "why don't you trust me to act based on simply the presentation of facts, which are horrific enough?" Political propaganda has been used in many terrible ways in human history. Even if you're on "my side," I am uncomfortable with this technique.
2) Near the beginning of the video the voiceover says something like, technology has made it a new world. The older generation is afraid of it/us. That is a rough paraphrase and the voiceover is coupled with footage of some kind of congressional hearing. I don't like pitting one group of people against another. The implication is that the older generation is somehow dumb/useless/out of it/in need of a swift kick in the ass. This is a slippery slope and the type of meaning and language that I find dangerous.
3) The use of your young child for emotional impact in your propaganda video. This is a red flag to me about lack of sound judgment. I was uncomfortable with the film maker's child in the video.
4) Using the slogan, "Make Kony Famous." I know this is shorthand, but it's sloppy. Again, there's a slipperiness to fame and it raises questions in my mind about mature judgment and clarity of purpose.
So, support Invisible Children or this other guy, http://visiblechildren.tumblr.com/''; that's not for me to say. As best I can, I will lend my voice to causes that will work to make children safe.
I just wanted to point out that the red flags of this propaganda piece raised red flags for me. In personal relationships as well as community/sociopolitical relationships, I think it's wise to go slow and proceed with open, clear eyes and ears.
So, sometimes, I try to help people slow down before they put their trust in someone. To listen to, rather than ignore their intuition. To ask themselves, does something about this other person or situation make you uncomfortable? Before we proceed with that relationship, let's just sit with the uncomfortable feeling and try to figure out where it comes from.
So I found myself employing this technique with myself as I watched this viral video from Invisible Children last night. Many of you may have already seen it - I'm linking to the NPR story which will also take you to the viral video: http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/03/07/148146240/ugandan-warlord-joseph-kony-under-spotlight-thanks-to-viral-video
As I slowed myself down and sat with my feelings of discomfort (it's a great cause - why was I getting that skeptical, yeah right, feeling!?!?), here is what I came up with:
1) This is propaganda. Propaganda, even for a good cause, is emotionally manipulative. I want to ask the maker of the film, "why don't you trust me to act based on simply the presentation of facts, which are horrific enough?" Political propaganda has been used in many terrible ways in human history. Even if you're on "my side," I am uncomfortable with this technique.
2) Near the beginning of the video the voiceover says something like, technology has made it a new world. The older generation is afraid of it/us. That is a rough paraphrase and the voiceover is coupled with footage of some kind of congressional hearing. I don't like pitting one group of people against another. The implication is that the older generation is somehow dumb/useless/out of it/in need of a swift kick in the ass. This is a slippery slope and the type of meaning and language that I find dangerous.
3) The use of your young child for emotional impact in your propaganda video. This is a red flag to me about lack of sound judgment. I was uncomfortable with the film maker's child in the video.
4) Using the slogan, "Make Kony Famous." I know this is shorthand, but it's sloppy. Again, there's a slipperiness to fame and it raises questions in my mind about mature judgment and clarity of purpose.
So, support Invisible Children or this other guy, http://visiblechildren.tumblr.com/''; that's not for me to say. As best I can, I will lend my voice to causes that will work to make children safe.
I just wanted to point out that the red flags of this propaganda piece raised red flags for me. In personal relationships as well as community/sociopolitical relationships, I think it's wise to go slow and proceed with open, clear eyes and ears.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
why our election process might be bad for our mental health
Here is what I LONG to hear a candidate for President of the United States say: "I've got some good ideas for what I think will make this country strong, prosperous, and healthy. My opponent has some ideas, too. They're fine ideas, but I happen to disagree with some of them. The American people are smart people - listen to my ideas and listen to my opponent's...whichever ideas you think are better - vote for that candidate."
The way candidates typically speak to us in the election process in particular is not healthy for us as a country. It assumes that we are either too dumb or too angry to make an informed choice based on facts. It's demoralizing to be spoken to this way and it corrupts the democratic process. It incites fear, when fear is rarely a helpful response.
I've come to think that one of the greatest assets to our emotional well-being is to know and feel that we have a choice. In theories of job satisfaction, autonomy/a sense of having freedom of choice in your workplace procedure,s is one of the top indicators of satisfaction. Or in love - don't we feel more satisfied in our relationships when we feel we choose to be with someone or do something for our loved one, rather than that we're forced or obligated to? What about when we get up in the morning...if we pay attention, we know that we can choose our approach to the day - positive or negative - and it makes a difference. Even the language that we use. I chose to start this blog writing about what I would like rather than simply complaining about what I don't.
I wonder what campaign speeches and debates were like in the 'old days' - did Abraham Lincoln call his opponent names or insult his religious background or personality? I somehow doubt it. As a nation, we will be better served to try to ignore candidates who appeal to our snarky and angry side. Just like in 'real life', paying a lot of attention to this type of person gives him or her more power than we really want to give them. We should also not forget our freedom to speak and ask for what we want - and I want a candidate who speaks the truth, which is: Almost always, ideas are just ideas - they are not inherently good or bad. I want to be spoken to as the emotionally mature person that I am. I want to make a choice to vote for or against ideas without being made to feel angry or afraid of the other guy or the other side.
The way candidates typically speak to us in the election process in particular is not healthy for us as a country. It assumes that we are either too dumb or too angry to make an informed choice based on facts. It's demoralizing to be spoken to this way and it corrupts the democratic process. It incites fear, when fear is rarely a helpful response.
I've come to think that one of the greatest assets to our emotional well-being is to know and feel that we have a choice. In theories of job satisfaction, autonomy/a sense of having freedom of choice in your workplace procedure,s is one of the top indicators of satisfaction. Or in love - don't we feel more satisfied in our relationships when we feel we choose to be with someone or do something for our loved one, rather than that we're forced or obligated to? What about when we get up in the morning...if we pay attention, we know that we can choose our approach to the day - positive or negative - and it makes a difference. Even the language that we use. I chose to start this blog writing about what I would like rather than simply complaining about what I don't.
I wonder what campaign speeches and debates were like in the 'old days' - did Abraham Lincoln call his opponent names or insult his religious background or personality? I somehow doubt it. As a nation, we will be better served to try to ignore candidates who appeal to our snarky and angry side. Just like in 'real life', paying a lot of attention to this type of person gives him or her more power than we really want to give them. We should also not forget our freedom to speak and ask for what we want - and I want a candidate who speaks the truth, which is: Almost always, ideas are just ideas - they are not inherently good or bad. I want to be spoken to as the emotionally mature person that I am. I want to make a choice to vote for or against ideas without being made to feel angry or afraid of the other guy or the other side.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
when old definitions of 'you' don't fit
We all have songs, books, pop culture moments that resonate with us and help us have a sense of connection in the world.
Alan Ball, the creator of Six Feet Under and True Blood is a touchstone for me in this way. A few years ago I heard him interviewed, maybe on the Actor's Studio? Anyway. He talked about Six Feet Under as a response to death and dying in his own life and the heaviness of that project. He then compared that to his later work, True Blood - how these vampire/supernatural stories are a metaphor for becoming most fully who you are or want to be or are meant to be in the world.
This resonates with me in two ways - as a hospice social worker, death, dying and grief permeated my being. My answer to it - I didn't even know I had an answer - was my poetry. And the second part of it is this: when I transitioned from hospice social work to private practice, I had a strong celebratory sense - that I was becoming, changing, growing into some important part of me that I had previously been unsure of or reluctant to let myself explore.
It makes me think about how we all define ourselves and where those definitions come from. An example from my own life is a statement about me that I grew up being told from the outside and incorporating in to a sense of my early adult self: Katy is cute. Cute. c-u-t-e. I accepted that statement from the outside. Cute meant, sweet, funny, loveable, easy to be around, non-controversial, dimunitive, not very assertive and certainly not aggressive. There came a moment in my life where that was uncomfortable. I didn't like it. It didn't feel like me. It was like some clothing that I'd outgrown. It was hard to overcome this definition though. Here is a place where poetry gave me an outlet for practicing how to redefine myself. Through my poetry, I expressed myself in ways that were angry, aggressive, sexual, embittered, resentful, faithless. A lot of it came from facing so much death. That wasn't so cute. And to make matters more complicated, I made myself get up and read those poems in front of rooms full of strangers. It was totally freeing! I began to realize that cute was fine, but that it didn't define me. That I could define and broaden my realization of myself and it wasn't up to anybody else to do this for me. In fact, I didn't have to accept anything that anyone else told me about myself and not just in this one aspect - in any aspect.
I think it's worth considering what you believe about yourself. Statements you unconsciously live by that define you. Where did those come from? Do they fit anymore? If they don't...how do you want to go about redefining yourself? What fits better now? Are there secret, wonderful parts of you itching at you to let them out?
I think it can be fun - we are not one way and always one way. We grow and change over time and sometimes parts of ourselves contradict ourselves. There's room for it all and it's a happy thing to become the person you want to be in the world.
Alan Ball, the creator of Six Feet Under and True Blood is a touchstone for me in this way. A few years ago I heard him interviewed, maybe on the Actor's Studio? Anyway. He talked about Six Feet Under as a response to death and dying in his own life and the heaviness of that project. He then compared that to his later work, True Blood - how these vampire/supernatural stories are a metaphor for becoming most fully who you are or want to be or are meant to be in the world.
This resonates with me in two ways - as a hospice social worker, death, dying and grief permeated my being. My answer to it - I didn't even know I had an answer - was my poetry. And the second part of it is this: when I transitioned from hospice social work to private practice, I had a strong celebratory sense - that I was becoming, changing, growing into some important part of me that I had previously been unsure of or reluctant to let myself explore.
It makes me think about how we all define ourselves and where those definitions come from. An example from my own life is a statement about me that I grew up being told from the outside and incorporating in to a sense of my early adult self: Katy is cute. Cute. c-u-t-e. I accepted that statement from the outside. Cute meant, sweet, funny, loveable, easy to be around, non-controversial, dimunitive, not very assertive and certainly not aggressive. There came a moment in my life where that was uncomfortable. I didn't like it. It didn't feel like me. It was like some clothing that I'd outgrown. It was hard to overcome this definition though. Here is a place where poetry gave me an outlet for practicing how to redefine myself. Through my poetry, I expressed myself in ways that were angry, aggressive, sexual, embittered, resentful, faithless. A lot of it came from facing so much death. That wasn't so cute. And to make matters more complicated, I made myself get up and read those poems in front of rooms full of strangers. It was totally freeing! I began to realize that cute was fine, but that it didn't define me. That I could define and broaden my realization of myself and it wasn't up to anybody else to do this for me. In fact, I didn't have to accept anything that anyone else told me about myself and not just in this one aspect - in any aspect.
I think it's worth considering what you believe about yourself. Statements you unconsciously live by that define you. Where did those come from? Do they fit anymore? If they don't...how do you want to go about redefining yourself? What fits better now? Are there secret, wonderful parts of you itching at you to let them out?
I think it can be fun - we are not one way and always one way. We grow and change over time and sometimes parts of ourselves contradict ourselves. There's room for it all and it's a happy thing to become the person you want to be in the world.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
loosening up and letting go
In my ongoing quest to practice what I preach and not be a hypocrite when it comes to mindfulness, self-care, non-dualism, etc, etc, I made the New Year's resolution to explore some aspects of spirituality and philosophy in more experiential ways. In that vein, I decided a couple weeks ago to take my first yoga class in 5 years.
It was on a Thursday morning, a time I don't usually work. I have, for the first time in 8 years, ostensibly, a large swath of time on that day that I can do whatever I want. Driving to the yoga class, I had some anxiety. I have to turn off my phone for an hour and a half in class and this isn't something I normally do. Even in my work day, I have my phone on silent, but check every hour to see if there have been any urgent calls or calls from family. I talked myself out of this anxiety, "Katy," I said to myself, "That is just your anxiety. It's time to let that go." (See...trying to practice what I preach, gentle self talk).
When I got to the class, the very earth-Mothery instructor said, "Hey, we've sort of spontaneously made this class 2 hours long - will that be okay?"
"Sure." I answered, but internally my anxiety ratcheted up again. Again, I spoke to myself, "Everything is perfectly fine, Katy. You may take this class for two hours. This is time that you do have."
I didn't feel that great during the class. When it was done I checked my calls and had 14 missed calls. Yes - 14. One from the school nurse and several from my husband, sort of like this, "Hey honey...where are you? Our daughter is sick and I guess I'm going to go pick her up? Where are you?"
For the first time since 2009, I had a kid sick enough to get a call from the nurse's office and it happened while I was in my big moment of spiritual woo woo/New Year's resolution-ness.
What can I say? I cried. I cried because I felt like a cruddy mom and wife who was off shirking her responsibilities and I felt simultaneously resentful that I couldn't take one damn yoga class without the world seeming to fall apart.
I also realized as I was crying that all that stuff is kind of bull. None of it is true. I am a good wife and mom and I can take yoga classes and everything will be fine. It might be better to take yoga classes on Saturday or Sunday when my husband can be with the kids, though.
The truth is, the last few weeks have been really full. Full of unexpected changes, deviations from the plan and routine.
I've had to loosen up. For me, this means loosening up, even on ways that many people find admirable, in which I try to take care of myself. I am loosening up on running. I am loosening up on New Year's Resolutions (at least my original interpretation of New Year's Resolutions). I am loosening up on my rules about writing, about not procrastinating. I am just having to go with the flow.
I've written before about changing your strategy - I am finding that at least at this moment in my life, it's better not to have a strategy. Or maybe my strategy is a balance between my 'agenda' and spontaneity. Sometimes you can be going along feeling like life is adhering nicely to your agenda, but that's kind of an illusion.
In hospice, I thought a lot about the people who seemed, in the end, to be able to let go. They had a certain grace in facing death and often, to tell you the truth, seemed to die more quickly, which is often a blessing. I noticed other people who clung dearly to life, who tried not to let go.
Well, it's getting later in the evening, a time my brain tends to wander and I guess I'm thinking that one thing relates to another. Sometimes we have to loosen up and let go of little things, sometimes we are called to loosen up and let go of big things. I guess I've always wanted to be someone who can figure out which way the wind is blowing, someone who can change plans, be spontaneous, and let go when that's the way things are going anyway.
It was on a Thursday morning, a time I don't usually work. I have, for the first time in 8 years, ostensibly, a large swath of time on that day that I can do whatever I want. Driving to the yoga class, I had some anxiety. I have to turn off my phone for an hour and a half in class and this isn't something I normally do. Even in my work day, I have my phone on silent, but check every hour to see if there have been any urgent calls or calls from family. I talked myself out of this anxiety, "Katy," I said to myself, "That is just your anxiety. It's time to let that go." (See...trying to practice what I preach, gentle self talk).
When I got to the class, the very earth-Mothery instructor said, "Hey, we've sort of spontaneously made this class 2 hours long - will that be okay?"
"Sure." I answered, but internally my anxiety ratcheted up again. Again, I spoke to myself, "Everything is perfectly fine, Katy. You may take this class for two hours. This is time that you do have."
I didn't feel that great during the class. When it was done I checked my calls and had 14 missed calls. Yes - 14. One from the school nurse and several from my husband, sort of like this, "Hey honey...where are you? Our daughter is sick and I guess I'm going to go pick her up? Where are you?"
For the first time since 2009, I had a kid sick enough to get a call from the nurse's office and it happened while I was in my big moment of spiritual woo woo/New Year's resolution-ness.
What can I say? I cried. I cried because I felt like a cruddy mom and wife who was off shirking her responsibilities and I felt simultaneously resentful that I couldn't take one damn yoga class without the world seeming to fall apart.
I also realized as I was crying that all that stuff is kind of bull. None of it is true. I am a good wife and mom and I can take yoga classes and everything will be fine. It might be better to take yoga classes on Saturday or Sunday when my husband can be with the kids, though.
The truth is, the last few weeks have been really full. Full of unexpected changes, deviations from the plan and routine.
I've had to loosen up. For me, this means loosening up, even on ways that many people find admirable, in which I try to take care of myself. I am loosening up on running. I am loosening up on New Year's Resolutions (at least my original interpretation of New Year's Resolutions). I am loosening up on my rules about writing, about not procrastinating. I am just having to go with the flow.
I've written before about changing your strategy - I am finding that at least at this moment in my life, it's better not to have a strategy. Or maybe my strategy is a balance between my 'agenda' and spontaneity. Sometimes you can be going along feeling like life is adhering nicely to your agenda, but that's kind of an illusion.
In hospice, I thought a lot about the people who seemed, in the end, to be able to let go. They had a certain grace in facing death and often, to tell you the truth, seemed to die more quickly, which is often a blessing. I noticed other people who clung dearly to life, who tried not to let go.
Well, it's getting later in the evening, a time my brain tends to wander and I guess I'm thinking that one thing relates to another. Sometimes we have to loosen up and let go of little things, sometimes we are called to loosen up and let go of big things. I guess I've always wanted to be someone who can figure out which way the wind is blowing, someone who can change plans, be spontaneous, and let go when that's the way things are going anyway.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
why should friendship be a problem?
I just read this article today in the NYTimes http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/29/fashion/its-not-me-its-you-how-to-end-a-friendship.html?_r=1&hpw about how to 'break up' with friends, in the age of Facebook and "unfriending."
I found 90% of this article kind of silly. The part that I didn't find silly or useless is what I've observed of my clients who are in the age of about 20 to 30 years old. Some of them have had difficult life experiences, especially death or other great loss, and they feel out of sync with their peers- as if they've matured 20 years in the span of only a few. Even without grief and loss, I can understand that feeling of isolation when typical social 'bonding' begins to feel empty. I am not thinking so much about that type of change here in this blogpost.
Here's more from the Times article: Psychologists consider it an inevitable life stage, a point where people achieve enough maturity and self-awareness to know who they are and what they want out of their remaining years, and have a degree of clarity about which friends deserve full attention and which are a drain. It is time, in other words, to shed people they collected in their youth, when they were still trying on friends for size.
I found 90% of this article kind of silly. The part that I didn't find silly or useless is what I've observed of my clients who are in the age of about 20 to 30 years old. Some of them have had difficult life experiences, especially death or other great loss, and they feel out of sync with their peers- as if they've matured 20 years in the span of only a few. Even without grief and loss, I can understand that feeling of isolation when typical social 'bonding' begins to feel empty. I am not thinking so much about that type of change here in this blogpost.
Here's more from the Times article: Psychologists consider it an inevitable life stage, a point where people achieve enough maturity and self-awareness to know who they are and what they want out of their remaining years, and have a degree of clarity about which friends deserve full attention and which are a drain. It is time, in other words, to shed people they collected in their youth, when they were still trying on friends for size.
The winnowing process even has a clinical name: socioemotional selectivity theory, a term coined by Laura L. Carstensen, a psychology professor who is the director of the Stanford Center on Longevity in California.
"Shed people they collected in their youths." That is kind of yucky. This is maybe where the article begins to plunge into a worldview that doesn't exactly jibe with mine.
I've found that as I get older, many friendships have an ebb and flow. When I was younger, I of course had the experience of rejection when I felt more interested in spending time with someone who just did not seem to have as much time for me. This was usually due to the life circumstances of the one friend changing (I remember when my friend H got a serious boyfriend and moved in with him - I hate to say it but my next 'boyfriend' was probably someone I dated in part to fill up the empty time that I'd previously spent with her. Ugh. The embarassment of youth!). Over 25 years, H and I have had very close times and times where we haven't spoken as frequently, but because the friendship has lasted so long, we both know and trust that we will always be friends.
This is the great advantage of letting go of 'defriending' someone or having to place a label - time unfolds and a deeper form of friendship has room to take root. I also think it's a good idea in friendships, not to just have one best friend. Evidence that the one best friend thing is a bad idea usually starts accumulating in about 6th grade.
I'd like to propose that we all just relax a little. Give ourselves and other people room to change and grow. Have a sense of humor. Most of the time we don't have to make dramatic moves like 'ending' a friendship. It can be a hard world at times; I think it's good to value all kinds of friends and friendships.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
rachel hasper therapy: Mindfulness on "Science Friday"
rachel hasper therapy: Mindfulness on "Science Friday": NPR's "Science Friday" hosted clinical psychologist from Oxford University, Mark Williams, to discuss the practice and benefits of mindfulne...
Hi Readers - my friend and colleague Rachel Hasper linked this to her blog - I didn't hear it, but definitely plan to check it out.
Hi Readers - my friend and colleague Rachel Hasper linked this to her blog - I didn't hear it, but definitely plan to check it out.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
some thoughts about love and freedom
I was an animal loving kid, but not surprising for those who know me, I loved them mostly by reading books about them. I must confess that I went through a pretty big marine mammal stage, probably around 3rd grade. I was a little torn, because the boy I had a crush on loved chimpanzees, so I also felt a like I needed to brush up on primates. Still, dolphins were really my thing. Then, I read Born Free and it moved me right into a lion stage (probably exacerbated by the Chronicles of Narnia.)
I loved Born Free, the story of Joy Adamson and her husband, George, naturalists living in Kenya. They raised an orphaned lion cub, Elsa. I was enthralled by how they cared for her, the affection between such a wild creature and humans. And then, after raising her to adulthood, how they slowly set her free into the wild. They helped her learn what would have been instinctual had she been raised by a lion mother - to hunt and kill, to protect herself, and socialize with other lions. Eventually, the humans who loved Elsa mostly just watched her from afar - the lion fully integrated into a wild pride.
Ooh, I still get choked up thinking about it.
It makes me think about love. What is real love?
In my deepest heart, I believe that loving other people means giving them room to make choices, including the choice to have space from us.
We want people to love us like we love them. We want to be reassured of their love. When we become anxious that they are going away or we don't have them as close as we want them we try to get them to reassure us. Sometimes we do this by throwing a tantrum, sometimes we do this by playing games, trying to make them jealous. Sometimes we even go away ourselves, maybe, to make them chase us. This is really just a way to control someone else's behavior. Real love is given feely.
If we want to give our love, we should give our love, but remove our expectation that it will be given back in the exact way we want it to be given. Real love is not manipulating another person's choices. Real love is honoring the other's freedom, and our own.
I loved Born Free, the story of Joy Adamson and her husband, George, naturalists living in Kenya. They raised an orphaned lion cub, Elsa. I was enthralled by how they cared for her, the affection between such a wild creature and humans. And then, after raising her to adulthood, how they slowly set her free into the wild. They helped her learn what would have been instinctual had she been raised by a lion mother - to hunt and kill, to protect herself, and socialize with other lions. Eventually, the humans who loved Elsa mostly just watched her from afar - the lion fully integrated into a wild pride.
Ooh, I still get choked up thinking about it.
It makes me think about love. What is real love?
In my deepest heart, I believe that loving other people means giving them room to make choices, including the choice to have space from us.
We want people to love us like we love them. We want to be reassured of their love. When we become anxious that they are going away or we don't have them as close as we want them we try to get them to reassure us. Sometimes we do this by throwing a tantrum, sometimes we do this by playing games, trying to make them jealous. Sometimes we even go away ourselves, maybe, to make them chase us. This is really just a way to control someone else's behavior. Real love is given feely.
If we want to give our love, we should give our love, but remove our expectation that it will be given back in the exact way we want it to be given. Real love is not manipulating another person's choices. Real love is honoring the other's freedom, and our own.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
everybody's under pressure - but how do you release it?
My clients are really, really good people. In fact, I think I probably have nicer, kinder, more compassionate, and plain old good clients than any other therapist in St. Louis and maybe in the United States. I say that only partially tongue in cheek. I think there's a little bit of truth to it, and also a little bit of my own bias. Of course I'm biased - I've gotten to know them and when you get to know people, without judgment, you get to see how awesome and beautiful they are on the inside. I think of my clients as both trying to enjoy or get more fulfillment out of their lives and/or find ways of coping with life's difficulties and grief. But this isn't just my clients, this is the human condition - both longing for fulfillment and trying to triumph over challenges and times of sadness or pain
When we try very hard to do and be our best, whether as employees, as parents, as friends, as spouses, sometimes the pressure builds up and often we find release valves for all that pressure without stopping to think about it. Maybe we yell at our spouse or kids, maybe we get drunk/high, maybe we are promiscuous, maybe we overexcercise, maybe we overeat. Sometimes we find healthy ways to release pressure to - we go hiking, write a poem, watch a sad or really funny movie, spend an hour with our friend or sister on the phone.
I think most of us, whether we're in therapy or not, would benefit from answering the questions - what are my release valves? How do I try to let go of some of the pressures of life? Are these the release valves I want to have? Are they helping or hurting me?
When we can answer these questions fully and truthfully, we can be more aware and make sure the choices we are making are the ones we really want to make. We can understand some of our actions, even our actions we don't like, in a more compassionate way. And, we can appreciate our time hiking or painting or going to listen to our favorie band, in a deeper way.
On a somewhat other note, I'd like to share a quote I received on email today from Pema Chodron, a Buddhist monk. She's written many books and I subscribe to a weekly 'thought' exerpted from one of her publications (here's the link http://www.shambhala.com/heartadvice/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=HA%201/19/12 ):
Have a good week, everybody!
When we try very hard to do and be our best, whether as employees, as parents, as friends, as spouses, sometimes the pressure builds up and often we find release valves for all that pressure without stopping to think about it. Maybe we yell at our spouse or kids, maybe we get drunk/high, maybe we are promiscuous, maybe we overexcercise, maybe we overeat. Sometimes we find healthy ways to release pressure to - we go hiking, write a poem, watch a sad or really funny movie, spend an hour with our friend or sister on the phone.
I think most of us, whether we're in therapy or not, would benefit from answering the questions - what are my release valves? How do I try to let go of some of the pressures of life? Are these the release valves I want to have? Are they helping or hurting me?
When we can answer these questions fully and truthfully, we can be more aware and make sure the choices we are making are the ones we really want to make. We can understand some of our actions, even our actions we don't like, in a more compassionate way. And, we can appreciate our time hiking or painting or going to listen to our favorie band, in a deeper way.
On a somewhat other note, I'd like to share a quote I received on email today from Pema Chodron, a Buddhist monk. She's written many books and I subscribe to a weekly 'thought' exerpted from one of her publications (here's the link http://www.shambhala.com/heartadvice/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=HA%201/19/12 ):
BEGIN WITH KINDNESS TO YOURSELF
We are all in this together. So when you realize that you’re talking to yourself, label it “thinking” and notice your tone of voice. Let it be compassionate and gentle and humorous. Then you’ll be changing old stuck patterns that are shared by the whole human race. Compassion for others begins with kindness to ourselves.
Have a good week, everybody!
Monday, January 9, 2012
some gentle thoughts about change
Most people go to therapy because they want to change something. They want to feel better, they want to make better choices, they want relationships to be more fulfilling. Just because I'm a therapist doesn't mean I don't have stuff like that too. In 2011, I wrote several blogs about things I wanted to 'work on' and I am holding myself accountable: how am I doing with my own ideas about change?
In July I wrote about trying to be a more mindful eater - thinking about the environmental impact of what I eat, buying or trying to buy organic, finding out more about what ingredients are going into processed foods that I may eat (or choose not to eat), finding out more about farming, etc. Actually, there's a pretty funny send up of this kind of thing from a show on IFC, Portlandia - http://www.hulu.com/watch/208808/portlandia-ordering-the-chicken-part-1. I know, it's funny. It's funny to be self-serious and solemn and it can all be excessive, at times. Yet, one of my underlying values of life is that little things make a difference. So with a wink at my inner Portlandian, I ask myself: how did I do? Am I caring about chickens and their happiness as I eat them? Am I voting with my dollars about what kind of farming I support? Saying with my choices that I want farming to be sustainable and good for the people not just of my generation, but generations to come?
Answer: I am doing ok only. We are buying organic milk and eggs consistently (I know, I know I read the NYT article, too, about how the term "organic" is being misrepresented). I read many more labels now and am much less apt to buy anything with high fructose corn syrup in it. I often use as a guide, especially in choosing snack foods, "Would my grandmother recognize this as a food?" That's the good news. The not as good news is that we rarely buy organic meat. We have not yet bought a share of one of those local farm co-ops (a goal for 2012?!), and during the holidays, in particular, I didn't think a whole lot about whether what I was eating matched my stated values at all. So, this story is still unfolding.
And, at last, my final follow up from 2011 (really, 2010!): Last December I wrote about snapping at my family during unwrapping Christmas gifts. I wrote about choices and being aware of what our choices are when we interact with people (our families especially) with whom we have old 'scripts' of words and behavior. This, I feel was a success for me. Here are a couple things I did that worked, and maybe you can use them too.
First, when someone close to me upset me this year, the first thing I reminded myself was: That person is not trying to upset me on purpose. Most people are not trying to upset us on purpose, they're just living their lives. Second: I used a sense of humor. Not a mean one, just a sense of humor - both with myself and with the other person. A lot of little irritating situations, like being overwhelmed by family demands at the holidays can be funny, if you give yourself room to see the big picture. Third: if I needed to, I talked with the other person about it. I tried not to yell, assume or accuse. I adopted an attitude of curiousity, of wanting to understand how to fix a problem.
I would say this was my biggest interpersonal success this year, because I felt that all my close relationships actually felt more genuine. I felt like I could be myself and that I could be spontaneous in my interactions.
In the end, I want to make a case for gentleness as we try to change. That's something I like about Portlandia, or the Muppets, or the music of Emmylou Harris - we can feel strongly, we can be funny, but we can still be gentle. We can keep up efforts to change, to grow into who we want to be in our lives and do it in a way that is gentle with ourselves and others.
In July I wrote about trying to be a more mindful eater - thinking about the environmental impact of what I eat, buying or trying to buy organic, finding out more about what ingredients are going into processed foods that I may eat (or choose not to eat), finding out more about farming, etc. Actually, there's a pretty funny send up of this kind of thing from a show on IFC, Portlandia - http://www.hulu.com/watch/208808/portlandia-ordering-the-chicken-part-1. I know, it's funny. It's funny to be self-serious and solemn and it can all be excessive, at times. Yet, one of my underlying values of life is that little things make a difference. So with a wink at my inner Portlandian, I ask myself: how did I do? Am I caring about chickens and their happiness as I eat them? Am I voting with my dollars about what kind of farming I support? Saying with my choices that I want farming to be sustainable and good for the people not just of my generation, but generations to come?
Answer: I am doing ok only. We are buying organic milk and eggs consistently (I know, I know I read the NYT article, too, about how the term "organic" is being misrepresented). I read many more labels now and am much less apt to buy anything with high fructose corn syrup in it. I often use as a guide, especially in choosing snack foods, "Would my grandmother recognize this as a food?" That's the good news. The not as good news is that we rarely buy organic meat. We have not yet bought a share of one of those local farm co-ops (a goal for 2012?!), and during the holidays, in particular, I didn't think a whole lot about whether what I was eating matched my stated values at all. So, this story is still unfolding.
And, at last, my final follow up from 2011 (really, 2010!): Last December I wrote about snapping at my family during unwrapping Christmas gifts. I wrote about choices and being aware of what our choices are when we interact with people (our families especially) with whom we have old 'scripts' of words and behavior. This, I feel was a success for me. Here are a couple things I did that worked, and maybe you can use them too.
First, when someone close to me upset me this year, the first thing I reminded myself was: That person is not trying to upset me on purpose. Most people are not trying to upset us on purpose, they're just living their lives. Second: I used a sense of humor. Not a mean one, just a sense of humor - both with myself and with the other person. A lot of little irritating situations, like being overwhelmed by family demands at the holidays can be funny, if you give yourself room to see the big picture. Third: if I needed to, I talked with the other person about it. I tried not to yell, assume or accuse. I adopted an attitude of curiousity, of wanting to understand how to fix a problem.
I would say this was my biggest interpersonal success this year, because I felt that all my close relationships actually felt more genuine. I felt like I could be myself and that I could be spontaneous in my interactions.
In the end, I want to make a case for gentleness as we try to change. That's something I like about Portlandia, or the Muppets, or the music of Emmylou Harris - we can feel strongly, we can be funny, but we can still be gentle. We can keep up efforts to change, to grow into who we want to be in our lives and do it in a way that is gentle with ourselves and others.
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