updates from 2011: parenting, mindfulness and The Dude

I like to be accountable. 
I have the audacity to offer thoughts and ideas about life, emotional health, and spiritual growth, so I think I better be accountable.  I decided to take a few ideas I pondered in the past year and see how I'm doing with them.

Today I want to look at Mindful Parenting.

In Feb. 2011 I wrote about me having a conniption fit ignited by getting my kids ready for school and  trying to get out the door in the morning, on top of hundreds of repeat plays of Les Miz on the CD player.  At that time,  the song Bad Moon Rising happened to come up on 103.3 and it was like getting a bucket of groovy water thrown over my head and I was able to put life in perspective and realize that with a little mindful planning and less rushing for me and the kids, we could all have a happier morning. 

In essence, I suggested that we could all be more mindful parents.  So how did I do with this?  Better!  I think I made vast improvements, and here's what I did different, and I think I can summarize it in three words:  I gave up. 

Yes, I think I gave up a little this year.  I admitted defeat in some aspects of parenting. 

It's not as bad as it sounds...let me explain.  I grew up with a pretty traditional parenting style - authoritarian.  Not like beat your butt authoritarian, but "I'm the adult and you do it because I say you will do it" authoritarian.   Without setting out to have an existential battle, I ended out this way because of my not really realizing that my own parenting style is, essentially not that.  I wanted it to be that.  It worked for me as a kid!  But, I am too goofy a person and too much of a touchy-feely social worker to truly make that work.  I've spanked my kids a total of 3 times and I tried for a 4th, but I started giggling, looking at my son's tushy trying to run away from me. 

I also realized that the tension between these two parts of me - the voice that said, 'Katy, you should discipline like your mom and dad, this is what they expect or because you see so and so parenting that way" and the voice that said,  "Katy, you can do it a different way and it's still legitimate"- that tension was making me kind of unhappy, not to mention confusing my kids.  It made me think of that old comedy video, Bill Cosby, Himself.  As a parent, I think of the clip, where he says, "My wife was a beautiful woman until we had children and now her face is permanently like this" and he makes this totally strained face with veins popping out of the neck.  I am pretty sure I looked like that a lot of the time and all of a sudden it dawned on me that I didn't have to be like that.

So I gave up.  Even my mom noticed.  Our whole extended family went on vacation this year and my kids were acting up and I was talking to them very calmly away from the dinner table.  I returned to the  dinner table, looked over at my mom and said, "I've given up."  She said, "Yes, you have." 

But, it's actually working better.  Our household is more humorous, less angry, and I think my kids are 'getting it" better.  Maybe because they are not getting mixed messages from me about expectations and what will happen when they are in trouble.  Maybe because they are getting older, too.

I still get mad, of course. But now, I think about it more...I slow down.  I even yelled, "Dammit - I'm tired of this!" the other day, but ( this is true!) I thought, 'hmmm...saying dammit will really get the little buggers attention'.  My kids think rough words and cussing are like cardinal sins, so it's totally eye-popping for them for me to cuss.  Also, it gave me a little humor too, dammit. 

So, that's an update on mindful parenting from my end...somebody said that nothing dies harder than a bad idea, and I feel like we have some ideas about our parenting or what parents are supposed to be and it's okay to let them go.

new year's prep - the resolution to work on the blog

Hi everybody -  As a social worker, I've really meandered slowly into the 'world of technology.'  I pretty much entered a technology black hole from 1999 to 2010.  I'm working on it.  Anyway, I'll be doing a little re-vamping of the blog in the next month or so, so this in not a real, 'real' post.  Just a test.  More to come...

ode to becoming: yes, virginia, that is all there is

On Thursday, I received my weekly email update/letter from my church minister.   In the hopes of encouraging congregants to attend a service on Christmas Day, he wrote,

I confess that I sometimes have a feeling of emptiness and incompletion on Christmas Day. The presents are opened, and now what? Do I turn to football or a nostalgic movie? This is Christmas Day, yet the magic of the season seems already gone. How I wish for a brief time of real meaning, contemplation, for the spirit of the season in company with those who will be glad to see me.

Now, I think it's interesting to compare that sentiment to some lyrics from Peggy Lee's song, Is That All There Is:

And when I was 12 years old, my father took me to the circus, the greatest show on earth.
There were clowns and elephants and dancing bears
And a beautiful lady in pink tights flew high above our heads.
And as I sat there watching the marvelous spectacle
I had the feeling that something was missing.
I don't know what, but when it was over,
I said to myself, "Is that all there is to a circus?"

Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing
Let's break out the booze and have a ball

Actually, all the lyrics are pretty interesting.  http://www.lyricstime.com/peggy-lee-is-that-all-there-is-lyrics.html

The thing is, I think a lot of people, whether they are traditionally religious or not, have this feeling (not necessarily about breaking out the booze and having a ball). There's a lot of build up for something to happen - maybe Christmas, maybe a vacation, maybe a new job, maybe just a night out with friends. There's preparation, planning, hoping for and anticipating the best...and then when it happens, it's kind of like one of those "dud" fireworks on the Fourth of July. 

It's notable to me that probably a half dozen to a dozen of my patients when I worked in hospice talked about the song, Is That All There Is? as they faced their own deaths.  We feel that let down about individual events in life, but as Peggy Lee points out at the end of her song, we don't want it to end either.

One idea, a way of approaching the Moments of life (with a capital M) links, for me, with a theology that I learned about from another minister; it's called Process Theology.  Here's the gross oversimplification (so please forgive me if you know more about this than I do):  the idea is that God is Becoming, that God is a process.  If you don't believe in God, I think it still works...we hear it all the time, even at the Hallmark store:  the journey is the destination.

I'll give this Christmas season as an example - like many of us, I've had a ridiculously long 'to do' list.  Ever since Thanksgiving, there's been this momentum.  Also, irritations - for example, I yelled at my son this afternoon for hitting his sister with a kebab skewer.

But, I'd like to propose that the momentum, the build up, is just as much Christmas as what I'll celebrate with my family on December 24/25.  I am not building up for some moment to happen, the moment is happening.  So rather than feel harried and resent my obligations and think, "I can't wait for Christmas to get here, then I'll know this effort is all worth it," it's much more content and enjoyable for me to soak in what I'm actually doing at the moment as part of what I hope for when I think of what I love about a holiday:  traditions, family time, good food and music, appreciating one another, feeling connecting to and honoring something bigger than ourselves. 

We can even draw this out to our sense of self.  If we think, one day I'll be the person I want to be, we're missing out.  We are becoming who we are and/or who we want to be!  It's happening right now.  It's not always comfortable, but I think that is so cool.

I am trying to keep in mind that every moment is "all there is.".  I've enjoyed myself this month, including all the running around.  But maybe I better go just now, I think I heard the kitchen drawer open.  The one where we keep the kebab skewers.

Happy Holidays and Love to Everybody!

the flipside of the corrections: our legacy as children

When I wrote the other week about 'the Corrections' and raising kids, I knew I'd get a good amount of feedback from readers and friends, because I think we are all fairly comfortable talking and thinking about what parts of parenting challenge us. 

As I've thought more about the parents-eye view, I've become reflective on another aspect of family life.  Maybe it's the end of the year, a feeling of wrapping things up, of looking back and looking ahead.  It definitely has something to do with writing this blog, which challenges me to use my own experience to connect with other people - many of whom I know, and some I don't. 

So, in this spirit, I'd like to talk about what I guess is the flipside, or even just another side of what we get from our parents.  'Corrections' parenting is a way we, as adults, might define ourselves AGAINST something.  It's a way some of us might like to show, 'I'm doing it different.'  But it's hard to know ourselves fully when we only are certain of what we are not (or what we don't want to be).  

Writing this blog has brought into relief for me a way of knowing who I am in relation to where and who I came from.  My parents.  I am a parent now, but I am also somebodies' kid.  In my writing about emotional and mental health, I find myself often thinking not just about what I might do differently than my parents (both in child-rearing and otherwise) I also think about where I might be similar to them. 

These parallels and connections with my parents, in some ways, surprise me.  My parents separated within 6 months of my graduating from college and moving halfway across the country.  Within another 18 months, they'd divorced. This was a tough thing for all my family, but I'd say one part that made it tough for me was that, in many ways, I'd defined myself by my family.  To my mind, my family was strong, stable, loving, sturdy.  My friends all loved to hang out at my house when we were teenagers.  My parents were firm, but kind.  The doors to our home were open and there was always a hot meal and a laugh.  We did things together, we were affectionate, we didn't often scream and yell.  So, the turmoil was sudden and surprising to my brain, which was barely out of adolescence.  My folks' divorce, for a time, negated much of the good stuff I thought I'd grown up with.  Suddenly, I questioned my own history.  Was it a lie?  If my memory and experience wasn't true, what in the world was?

I've spent some serious emotional and mental energy working that out over the years.

Here's what I've come to:  I like the person I am and... I came from somewhere.  I came from my parents, who for a time came together and taught me some good stuff - be responsible for your community, freedom is worth fighting for, be of service when and where you can,  listen to music (who doesn't feel better when they listen to "Oldies"?!)  From my mom in particular, I inherited values of tradition, being humble, a sense of family history, a sense of and love of the Divine.  From my dad I inherited intellectual curiousity, the desire to challenge and be challenged, a sense of rebellion and adventure.

I appreciate this legacy.  I love my folks.  And though I try really hard not to curse in this blog, one of my mental health mantras is (and I mean this with no irony or angry undertone) "shit happens."  In fact, that might be a whole other blog.

The point is, we are made of many parts, influences, and life experience.  Some stuff I probably came up with on my own (isn't that very American - to be self-created in many ways?).  But, I hope, as we all get ready to probably spend some time with our parents, if they are living, over the holidays, I hope it might be helpful to think about the legacy of their influence.   To extend graciousness and love - for them, and by extension for ourselves.

I heard a piece on NPR just after Thanksgiving about decorating the White House for the holidays.  Apparently, you can nominate yourself or someone else to have the opportunity to help with this tradition.  This year, along with many others, an elderly immigrant man was nominated by his son and they were both chosen for this honor.  The older man spoke of his son in his radio interview - "I just pray that he has a good life." 

Who could say it better than that - whether you're a parent or a kid? 

the corrections, or LESS extreme parenting

I just watched about 3/4 of Lisa Ling's Our America - Extreme Parenting.  It reminded me a little of my take away from Jonathon Franzen's book, The Corrections:  as parents we often try to 'correct' for how we perceive our folks messed up with us.  At some point along our developmental path, we become determined not to make the same mistakes they made. 

In fact, this is the premise of a new TV show, called I Hate My Teenage Daughter on Fox.  It's about two moms who had been bullied as young teens, but who 'parented' their own girls into becoming just the types of girls who tortured them when they were younger.  Ugh. Sounds awful.  

Anyway - for better or for worse, much of the reputation of psychotherapy is that it will lead clients to eventually blame their parents for something.  For example, if your parents were very lax about education and expectations regarding grades, you might grow up to think, "they didn't push me hard enough.  I wasn't challenged enough.  I'm not going to make that mistake with my kids.  My kids will be challenged to meet high expectation set by me.  They will be successful.  They will reach their potential."  Or maybe you had a parent who really favored one of your siblings.  You might think, "I will be totally fair with my kids.  Each will be offered the same opportunities as the other.  They will get the same number of hugs.  They will have equal chores.  No one will feel slighted."

Maybe it sounds crazy, but I've made a connection between this approach to raising children and some of what I learned working in hospice:  we have less control than we think.  Case in point - I remember the sisters in my neighborhood growing up who weren't allowed to watch TV and always had to eat the crusts of their bread.  They didn't turn out much different than the rest of us as far as I know.  Conversely,  I know another good friend of mine who was raised in a pretty lax household compared to mine (Beatles poster on the dining room wall - Gasp!)  and he went to undergraduate and grad school in the Ivy League. 

I'm not saying there is a direct correlation.  I am saying there is NOT a direct correlation.  Our kids are born with many innate traits, which we can support and love and nurture.  I've also read and wrote a little about the Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, a book that was published about a year ago.  The author, a mom/professor, advocates the "Chinese Way" of raising children.  Very structured and disciplined.  She goes on to say one daughter was able to bend to this discipline and another rebelled against it. 

What I'd like to propose is that if we have some aspect of raising our kids that we are really digging in our heels on, like anything, it's good to look at it a little closer to make sure we're really doing what we want to do.  It's worth looking at whether we are seeing the child in front of us, or seeing our own selves as a kid.  If we're seeing only ourselves and the hurt we felt, it might be that we are trying to get our own needs met through our kids.  Talk about needing therapy later. 

In raising our children, I am in no way advocating an all laissez-faire approach all the time.  I'm just saying that in raising children, like in all things, we usually have more choices than we think and less control than we imagine. 

what's your code?

I saw a PBS special this week on TV Crusaders.  The creators and actors of characters like Hawkeye Pierce, House, and even Xena, Warrior Princess were interviewed.  It was fun and interesting.  On my 'to watch' list for life is the HBO series, The Wire.  This Crusaders special showed some bits of a character named Omar Little.  He was a gangster and he killed a lot of people, I guess, but he never killed anyone who wasn't in 'the game' (drugs).  He was talking with a cop in one clip they showed and the cop says, 'Everybody's got to have a code.' 

I was thinking about that and I like it.  It made me wonder what my code is and who influenced it.  One thing in particular has come to mind this week - maybe because of Thanksgiving, which I find to be the most patriotic holiday.  I was thinking about my dad and some influence he had on me - his code, I guess.  My dad was shaped by the military - he went to military school, was in college ROTC, the Army Reserves.  He'd tell you today that a guiding principle of his life is Duty, Honor, Country. 

Duty and honor are concepts that interest me a lot - I find that there are many ways to be a warrior, and not all of them are literally military.  Through my work in hospice, and of course, as a therapist, many of the warriors I witness look like caregivers.  They get up every single day to battle fatigue, grief, someone else's disease process or despair.  They commit themselves to the well-being and health of others -whether it's their kids or their aging parents, their patients, or community members.  They find honor in living this way and they are steadfast in their duties. 

When my kids were really little, I remember kind of thinking the word duty was funny because it was resonant to me of 'doo - doo.'  Always, highbrow humor at our house!  Some days, I felt like all I was doo-doo doing was duty.  I had to doo-doo the never-ending laundry, doo-doo the never-ending dishes, doo-doo the baths and diaper changes, doo-doo my paperwork for work, doo-doo taking care of the animals, doo-doo church commitments, etc., etc..  Why did I doo-doo all this, I asked myself?  Because I LOVED these people- my kids, my husband, my patients, my church friends.  Or I was supposed to.  Or I think I thought I did.  Oh, no!

See, somehow in all the duty, the responsibility,  I truly had lost touch with the love that was supposed to be motivating me toward all this action. 

Sometimes I get disgusted with gooey self-help words like self-care.  But here's what I think it means.  To be a grown up in the real sense of the world, I think we have to have an understanding of our own freedom.  The literal truth is that we have a lot of freedom.  When we take care of ourselves it gives us room, it gives us a sense of space, time, and freedom.  When we have this space, time and sense of freedom, we can get back to our 'duties', but we can do it with love and not resentment or rote operations.  My husband would tell you, 'I'm a simple man.'   (That might be his Code).  So this is what he says about my topic today: 'if you do something because you want to do it, it's just easier.'

Out of the mouths of babes.  You know, I don't know if I have a one-sentence code, but I know that I value being honorable and dutiful.  I also value being loving and having fun.  In fact I recommend the following:  honor, duty, loving and fun. And at least for today, that is my code.

Happy Thanksgiving and much LOVE to you and your families!

advice from a mentor

It's been a very busy month and I have really just been keeping up with my 'tasks' without much time to think, make connections between one thought and another, and then write about it.  Some times are just like that, but I feel like I am moving out of it now.

In the thinking I have been doing, some advice I received recently is popping up frequently as I go about my days...but maybe the advice isn't the right place to start..I'll start here:  in the last blog I wrote about the Marsha Linehan Mindfulness, Willingness and Radical Acceptance workshop I attended.  She began her seminar with a slide, which read something like this:

Avoidance of suffering leads to more suffering.

I am a skeptic of authority, for the most part, so the first thing I thought, was "Do I agree with that?" 

Here is my answer:  mostly I agree with it.  In my experience, if we avoid the internal experience of our own hurts, anger, grief, rejection, loneliness, this can be a decent immediate means of coping, but if we think we've managed to escape without dealing with the feelings we are wrong - they come back later, and sometimes nastier.

So, it's from that point of view that I will share some advice I was given.  A couple weeks ago, I had lunch with a professional mentor of mine.  I shared with him some feelings of discomfort I have and questions about how to do my job as a psychotherapist.  "Therapy" is a big umbrella and people approach it with diverse points of view.  When my point of view bumps up against someone else's point of view, it is uncomfortable.  Just like in 'real' life - when you're talking with somebody about Occupy Wall Street, or how to raise children, or God, or what changes might improve your marriage, or whatever -  and your essential viewpoint differs from someone else, it's uncomfortable.  For me, I never go to a place of digging in my heels on my opinion, it's just not my nature - I go to a place of questions - whose authority do I accept?  should I try to change the other person's opinion?  what does it mean about them that they think X?  what does it mean about me that I think Y?  It feels sticky, irritating, and like something I might like to avoid.

But here is what my mentor said, something I know and that typically I do, but sometimes it's good to get a reminder or even a directive:  When you are uncomfortable with something, lean into it.  (isn't that great, therapist-y advice!)

That means examine it like a discovery, look at all sides, make notes on it, ask it questions.  Feeling and leaning into discomfort doesn't necessary lead to answers (though sometimes it does), but it will lead to a deeper knowing of yourself and others.  Rather than more suffering, it will lead to less.

Sometimes we don't even realize we are avoiding something.  I think the first place to start is to acknowledge what and when we feel uncomfortable with a person we know and love, a person we don't know well but feel we don't like, an event in our past, a thought about the future.  Do I feel uncomfortable when I think of it?  If the answer is yes, it might be worth taking some time to 'lean into it' and see what we find out.