"The heart of authenticity is the courage to be vulnerable."
~Brene Brown
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Sunday, October 10, 2010
“You’re weirder than I am!”
“That is my job” I replied. I realized when my client made the weirdness comment, that my job is to be weirder than my clients. Let me put it another way—my job is to help people push the boundaries of what is “normal” for them.
“Normal” behaviors and thought patterns are no longer working for my clients, or they wouldn’t be in my office. I help them move out of their comfort zone, to find new ways of thinking, feeling and acting in the world. Which means I have to be able to push my limits of normal. (See the previous post.)
A therapist cannot take their clients where they are not comfortable going themselves. So I took my client’s comment today as great praise. Thank you!
“Normal” behaviors and thought patterns are no longer working for my clients, or they wouldn’t be in my office. I help them move out of their comfort zone, to find new ways of thinking, feeling and acting in the world. Which means I have to be able to push my limits of normal. (See the previous post.)
A therapist cannot take their clients where they are not comfortable going themselves. So I took my client’s comment today as great praise. Thank you!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
My summer vacation (sort of)
This summer was one of the most intense times I have ever experienced.
For me, one of the responsibilities of being a therapist is doing my own work of examining the beliefs and patterns that get in my way, so I can be clear with my clients’ issues. Well, this summer I went into it whole hog, as it were. This last weekend, in particular, reminded me of what it is sometimes like for my clients.
There are times when we see the thoughts and behaviors that we want to change in their full glory. We do the work to become acutely aware of how often we think and do the things that cause us pain—and we don’t yet have the tools or knowledge to make the changes we desire. It can feel overwhelming, to put it mildly. We can feel hopeless, weak and incompetent.
It is these times that I get most hopeful as a therapist because I see the absolute courage of my clients as they face what they have avoided. This is when change is most possible.
These are the times we need to know we are not alone and we are lovable, even with our imperfections at their most prominent.
This summer and last weekend, I was reminded of the fear, the hopelessness, and the need for connection and reassurance as we go through the process. I was also reminded of the strength of hope, and the power of moving through fear to get to the joy of change and self-compassion.
My clients who choose to see themselves in all their imperfections *and* perfections inspire me to continue my work with them and with myself. To you I give my gratitude.
For me, one of the responsibilities of being a therapist is doing my own work of examining the beliefs and patterns that get in my way, so I can be clear with my clients’ issues. Well, this summer I went into it whole hog, as it were. This last weekend, in particular, reminded me of what it is sometimes like for my clients.
There are times when we see the thoughts and behaviors that we want to change in their full glory. We do the work to become acutely aware of how often we think and do the things that cause us pain—and we don’t yet have the tools or knowledge to make the changes we desire. It can feel overwhelming, to put it mildly. We can feel hopeless, weak and incompetent.
It is these times that I get most hopeful as a therapist because I see the absolute courage of my clients as they face what they have avoided. This is when change is most possible.
These are the times we need to know we are not alone and we are lovable, even with our imperfections at their most prominent.
This summer and last weekend, I was reminded of the fear, the hopelessness, and the need for connection and reassurance as we go through the process. I was also reminded of the strength of hope, and the power of moving through fear to get to the joy of change and self-compassion.
My clients who choose to see themselves in all their imperfections *and* perfections inspire me to continue my work with them and with myself. To you I give my gratitude.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Perfectionists can change too
As I was going to sleep last night, I was reviewing in my head what I had said to a client earlier that day. I started to wonder if I chose the best tact, and then promptly thought “I did the best I could at the time.” I realized, in that moment, that thought is not unusual for me.
This realization made me sit straight up in bed. You see, for much of my life I second-guessed myself. I almost constantly mulled over past decisions, conversations, and actions, trying to figure out how I could have done better.
I am a perfectionist at heart. We perfectionists tend to be very hard on ourselves; “I did the best I could at the time” is not a phrase most perfectionists believe applies to them. So the fact that I realized I now frequently say that to myself, and believe it, came as quite a shock.
Almost every client who walks through my door is a perfectionist. They believe they can make themselves better by beating themselves up for thoughts or actions they deem less than perfect. (Let’s face it, that is almost everything.) I tell them they’ve come to the right place; I know what constant self-castigation feels like. I also know the great gift we can give ourselves, and others, by letting that belief in perfection go.
This realization made me sit straight up in bed. You see, for much of my life I second-guessed myself. I almost constantly mulled over past decisions, conversations, and actions, trying to figure out how I could have done better.
I am a perfectionist at heart. We perfectionists tend to be very hard on ourselves; “I did the best I could at the time” is not a phrase most perfectionists believe applies to them. So the fact that I realized I now frequently say that to myself, and believe it, came as quite a shock.
Almost every client who walks through my door is a perfectionist. They believe they can make themselves better by beating themselves up for thoughts or actions they deem less than perfect. (Let’s face it, that is almost everything.) I tell them they’ve come to the right place; I know what constant self-castigation feels like. I also know the great gift we can give ourselves, and others, by letting that belief in perfection go.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
My true religion, my simple faith is in love and compassion. There is no need for complicated philosophy, doctrine, or dogma. Our own heart, our own mind, is the temple. The doctrine is compassion. Love for others and respect for their rights and dignity, no matter who or what they are - these are ultimately all we need.
~Dalai Lama
~Dalai Lama
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
"The first and foremost thing is to be loving towards yourself. Don’t be hard; be soft. Care about yourself. Learn how to forgive yourself — again and again and again — seven times, seventy-seven times, seven hundred seventy-seven times. Learn how to forgive yourself. Don’t be hard; don’t be antagonistic towards yourself. Then you will flower." -Osho
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Love Can’t be Measured
It is all love.
If that is true
love can’t be measured
It is all love.
That gives me no basis
for insecurity
All that is left
is curiosity and wonder and
love
If that is true
love can’t be measured
It is all love.
That gives me no basis
for insecurity
All that is left
is curiosity and wonder and
love
Monday, May 24, 2010
Space—the Elusive Frontier
How many of you out there only slow down when you get sick? I know that is true for me. (Though I am still surprised when what I consider really busy people tell me they can't believe how busy I am.) I said I was bored once last year and I shocked myself. I don't think I've said that since I was in my 20's. We are talking decades.
Low and behold, I got sick for a week at the end of March. I read two books, watched 5 movies, and still had plenty of pondering time. I hadn’t written anything for this blog in over two months. My “Musings” blog consists of thoughts I quickly right down when inspired. I need space to be inspired, and I hadn’t been giving myself that space.
After sitting around for a week, I came up with about 5 topics, many of which I have already posted.
The experience reminded me of the power of giving ourselves time—time to ponder, to rest, to grief, to play. When I give myself that time, I am continually surprised by the benefits I reap.
Low and behold, I got sick for a week at the end of March. I read two books, watched 5 movies, and still had plenty of pondering time. I hadn’t written anything for this blog in over two months. My “Musings” blog consists of thoughts I quickly right down when inspired. I need space to be inspired, and I hadn’t been giving myself that space.
After sitting around for a week, I came up with about 5 topics, many of which I have already posted.
The experience reminded me of the power of giving ourselves time—time to ponder, to rest, to grief, to play. When I give myself that time, I am continually surprised by the benefits I reap.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
When is enough, enough?
My friend hit it on the head. “It is not about being ‘special’; it is about worth.”
How many of us desire to be special, whether it is through a partner, our friends, our job, our art, our possessions, or something else? When we want to be recognized as special, we are actually asking to be seen as worthy.
How many of us need ongoing reassurance of our worth? All the evidence we accumulated in the past is either not acknowledged, not seen as “true”, or forgotten…by us.
When is enough evidence enough?
It is enough when the “evidence” comes from our own self, rather than from others. How does that happen? I wish I had an easy answer. I know by pondering the questions, we create openings for our own answers. Answers that *will* be enough for us.
How many of us desire to be special, whether it is through a partner, our friends, our job, our art, our possessions, or something else? When we want to be recognized as special, we are actually asking to be seen as worthy.
How many of us need ongoing reassurance of our worth? All the evidence we accumulated in the past is either not acknowledged, not seen as “true”, or forgotten…by us.
When is enough evidence enough?
It is enough when the “evidence” comes from our own self, rather than from others. How does that happen? I wish I had an easy answer. I know by pondering the questions, we create openings for our own answers. Answers that *will* be enough for us.
Monday, May 3, 2010
What happens if there is enough?
What a radical concept.
Many of us unconsciously believe if another person has an abundance of love, money, friends…whatever, that means we won't have enough. How would our lives be different without that thought? Too often, when another person has what we feel we lack, we get envious, angry, or simply judgmental. We ask "Who are they to be so rewarded?" What we are really asking is, "Who am I to not be so rewarded?"
How would our lives be different if we rejoiced at another person's good fortune to have what we desire? That might be a path to knowing we are enough.
Talk about a radical concept...
Many of us unconsciously believe if another person has an abundance of love, money, friends…whatever, that means we won't have enough. How would our lives be different without that thought? Too often, when another person has what we feel we lack, we get envious, angry, or simply judgmental. We ask "Who are they to be so rewarded?" What we are really asking is, "Who am I to not be so rewarded?"
How would our lives be different if we rejoiced at another person's good fortune to have what we desire? That might be a path to knowing we are enough.
Talk about a radical concept...
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Testing Reality—Theory vs. Facts
How many of us test our view of reality? By the time we have reached adulthood, most of us have pretty firm ideas about how the world works. The problem is, often those beliefs are based on what we think is happening, based on past experience, rather than what is really happening.
I recently went to a discussion of inclusion and exclusion. Several people spoke of situations they felt left out. However, when they actually talked to the people they perceived to be excluding them, they discovered their assumptions were wrong. In other words, their theory did not fit the facts.
How many times do we do that? Almost always, I would wager. If we approach situations with an air of curiosity about what is really happening, we stand a chance of changing old theories that keep us stuck.
Reality is usually kinder than what we are telling ourselves (our theories.) When you think about it, if our thoughts in our heads are making us feel bad, the chances of the facts making us feel worse are amazingly slim. There is a much better chance that the facts are kinder than our theories.
When we are willing to test our theories against reality, we often find our risk is beautifully rewarded. In fact, I’m going to do that right now. Wish me luck!
Addendum--I am happy to report that, indeed, in the case above, my theory was wrong and the truth was kinder than my thoughts. Yea!
I recently went to a discussion of inclusion and exclusion. Several people spoke of situations they felt left out. However, when they actually talked to the people they perceived to be excluding them, they discovered their assumptions were wrong. In other words, their theory did not fit the facts.
How many times do we do that? Almost always, I would wager. If we approach situations with an air of curiosity about what is really happening, we stand a chance of changing old theories that keep us stuck.
Reality is usually kinder than what we are telling ourselves (our theories.) When you think about it, if our thoughts in our heads are making us feel bad, the chances of the facts making us feel worse are amazingly slim. There is a much better chance that the facts are kinder than our theories.
When we are willing to test our theories against reality, we often find our risk is beautifully rewarded. In fact, I’m going to do that right now. Wish me luck!
Addendum--I am happy to report that, indeed, in the case above, my theory was wrong and the truth was kinder than my thoughts. Yea!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Great Expectations…not so Great
Maybe Dickens had it wrong. Maybe expectations aren’t so great. Maybe…if we don’t have expectations, we can more easily see the gifts in our life.
Case in point…I recently held a party at my home. A friend told me he wasn’t feeling social, so he likely wouldn’t linger more than ½ an hour. As a result, I did not expect him to stay—but he did. Every once in awhile I saw him and exclaimed, with a big smile on my face “You’re still here!” Because I did not assume he would remain, I was delighted every moment I noted his presence.
Reflecting back on the experience, I realized every person’s attendance was a gift to me. Yet the friend who stood out, was the one I didn’t think would stay. So the next time I throw a party, I’ve decided to have the same delight for every person’s presence, no matter how short, or long, they gift me with their time.
Case in point…I recently held a party at my home. A friend told me he wasn’t feeling social, so he likely wouldn’t linger more than ½ an hour. As a result, I did not expect him to stay—but he did. Every once in awhile I saw him and exclaimed, with a big smile on my face “You’re still here!” Because I did not assume he would remain, I was delighted every moment I noted his presence.
Reflecting back on the experience, I realized every person’s attendance was a gift to me. Yet the friend who stood out, was the one I didn’t think would stay. So the next time I throw a party, I’ve decided to have the same delight for every person’s presence, no matter how short, or long, they gift me with their time.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Shame, Shame, Shame
I’ve been pondering how much we shame ourselves lately. Frankly, it’s pissing me off.
Shame is appropriate if we do something to purposefully hurt someone. The problem is, too many of us our shame ourselves willy-nilly. I was in a group earlier this week and some of the members expressed shame because they did not accomplish their goals. Why? They didn’t hurt anybody. None of the other members were damaged because they didn’t accomplish the tasks. I can understand disappointment; they didn’t keep their word to themselves. That is disappointing, but shameful? No.
We have taken the usefulness of shame and splattered it across our lives. Instead of using shame to prevent us from taking dishonorable action, we have elevated shame to everyday use. We essentially are saying to ourselves “Because I did not do (insert whatever here) I am a dishonorable person.” To put it simply, this keeps us small and stuck.
I’ve seen in my life, and the lives of my clients, how much more can be accomplished when we have compassion for ourselves. It is time to take the sledgehammer of shame out of daily use and put it back in its rightful place.
Shame is appropriate if we do something to purposefully hurt someone. The problem is, too many of us our shame ourselves willy-nilly. I was in a group earlier this week and some of the members expressed shame because they did not accomplish their goals. Why? They didn’t hurt anybody. None of the other members were damaged because they didn’t accomplish the tasks. I can understand disappointment; they didn’t keep their word to themselves. That is disappointing, but shameful? No.
We have taken the usefulness of shame and splattered it across our lives. Instead of using shame to prevent us from taking dishonorable action, we have elevated shame to everyday use. We essentially are saying to ourselves “Because I did not do (insert whatever here) I am a dishonorable person.” To put it simply, this keeps us small and stuck.
I’ve seen in my life, and the lives of my clients, how much more can be accomplished when we have compassion for ourselves. It is time to take the sledgehammer of shame out of daily use and put it back in its rightful place.
A Meaningful Life
I’ve been pondering how to quickly explain the purpose of my groups for women over 40 who never had kids. I believe I have found it—to delve into the meaning of life without children, or more precisely, how do we make meaning of our lives as they are?
I’m reading “The Second Half of Life” by Angeles Arrien (a fabulous book so far!) In it I found the following quotation:
The Bushman storytellers talk about two kinds of hunger.
They say there is physical hunger, then what they call
the Great Hunger.
That is the hunger for meaning.
There is only one thing that is truly insufferable,
and that is a life without meaning.
There is nothing wrong with the search for happiness.
But there is something great—meaning—
which transfigures all.
When you have meaning you are content,
you belong.
Sir Laurens van der Post in the documentary “Hasten Slowly”
Women who end up without children can sometimes wonder where they belong. Having children usually engenders a sense of belonging and a purpose for life (though, to be fair, many parents yearn to create meaning beyond parenthood.) For people without kids, that meaning needs to be consciously created. The exercises, rituals, and conversations that take place in my groups are tools to help women go deeper into understanding who they are, and what they desire in order to live a meaningful life.
So, next time someone asks me what my groups are all about, I’m ready!
I’m reading “The Second Half of Life” by Angeles Arrien (a fabulous book so far!) In it I found the following quotation:
The Bushman storytellers talk about two kinds of hunger.
They say there is physical hunger, then what they call
the Great Hunger.
That is the hunger for meaning.
There is only one thing that is truly insufferable,
and that is a life without meaning.
There is nothing wrong with the search for happiness.
But there is something great—meaning—
which transfigures all.
When you have meaning you are content,
you belong.
Sir Laurens van der Post in the documentary “Hasten Slowly”
Women who end up without children can sometimes wonder where they belong. Having children usually engenders a sense of belonging and a purpose for life (though, to be fair, many parents yearn to create meaning beyond parenthood.) For people without kids, that meaning needs to be consciously created. The exercises, rituals, and conversations that take place in my groups are tools to help women go deeper into understanding who they are, and what they desire in order to live a meaningful life.
So, next time someone asks me what my groups are all about, I’m ready!
Endings & Possibilities
Lately, there have been numerous “endings” in my life, and in the lives of those near to me. Many of those “endings” were break-ups of relationships.
I’ve noticed when a relationship ends, we tend to globalize its meaning. A single break-up confirms why all our other relationships didn’t work out, *and* it confirms that all our future partnerships will similarly “fail.” Our present grief infuses our past and our future. Frankly, that is a lot to place on one event. It is no wonder break-ups are so miserable!
I wonder how our lives would be different if we chose to keep the scope of an event to *that event.* What if, instead of seeing misery extended through-out our life, we would salve our hurt, learn our lessons, and let go?
I’m not proposing that we experience no pain, or hurt, or loss. Frankly, that would be silly; those feelings are natural responses to an ending. What I am proposing is to fully feel our grief, and to take advantage of that moment of vulnerability to go deeper inside ourselves, to find the learning--and the possibilities--that end began.
I’ve noticed when a relationship ends, we tend to globalize its meaning. A single break-up confirms why all our other relationships didn’t work out, *and* it confirms that all our future partnerships will similarly “fail.” Our present grief infuses our past and our future. Frankly, that is a lot to place on one event. It is no wonder break-ups are so miserable!
I wonder how our lives would be different if we chose to keep the scope of an event to *that event.* What if, instead of seeing misery extended through-out our life, we would salve our hurt, learn our lessons, and let go?
I’m not proposing that we experience no pain, or hurt, or loss. Frankly, that would be silly; those feelings are natural responses to an ending. What I am proposing is to fully feel our grief, and to take advantage of that moment of vulnerability to go deeper inside ourselves, to find the learning--and the possibilities--that end began.
Death & Girl Scout Cookies
Apparently, endings, and the aliveness that death brings us, are on my mind.
I was talking with a friend who is over 50. He commented on the poignancy he experiences because, now that he sees death is on the horizon, life feels more precious. People, experiences, and nature are all more beautiful because they are no longer perceived as there forever.
Yet another strange gift of death (see last week's post).
Which brings me to Girl Scout cookies. (Stay with me here.) Girl Scout cookies are available only once a year. I will do everything in my power to corral a Girl Scout so I can get my Thin Mints and Do-si-do's each spring. Because I know the time to procure them is finite, those cookies are precious.
When we know something is ending, we more fully appreciate it. When my attention is focused on gratitude for something, I am more alive. The possibility of death, then, makes me more alive. A strange gift indeed.
I was talking with a friend who is over 50. He commented on the poignancy he experiences because, now that he sees death is on the horizon, life feels more precious. People, experiences, and nature are all more beautiful because they are no longer perceived as there forever.
Yet another strange gift of death (see last week's post).
Which brings me to Girl Scout cookies. (Stay with me here.) Girl Scout cookies are available only once a year. I will do everything in my power to corral a Girl Scout so I can get my Thin Mints and Do-si-do's each spring. Because I know the time to procure them is finite, those cookies are precious.
When we know something is ending, we more fully appreciate it. When my attention is focused on gratitude for something, I am more alive. The possibility of death, then, makes me more alive. A strange gift indeed.
The Strange Gift of Death
A dear family member is dying. I am calling her frequently and flying out to see her. And I am missing her. I'm already anticipating grieving her after her death. I am making sure I have left nothing unsaid and unsettled between us.
There is the strange gift of death.
We don't have forever in this life; by being born, we sign up to die. When we are conscious of this, we tend to get our proverbial butts in gear to accomplish what is important to us, whether that is to open up to love, travel to Australia, find meaningful work, make contact with that long-lost friend, or simply say goodbye to those we love.
When I make goals that are meaningful to me a focus of my life, my heart is more at ease. I have peace, knowing that I am making progress on (or have completed!) what is truly important to me.
If I had a gazillion years in this life, I *might* watch more t.v. Because I likely don't have more than 100 years, I chose to risk, and to live. Do me a favor, remind me of that next time you catch me watching reruns of "I Love Lucy."
There is the strange gift of death.
We don't have forever in this life; by being born, we sign up to die. When we are conscious of this, we tend to get our proverbial butts in gear to accomplish what is important to us, whether that is to open up to love, travel to Australia, find meaningful work, make contact with that long-lost friend, or simply say goodbye to those we love.
When I make goals that are meaningful to me a focus of my life, my heart is more at ease. I have peace, knowing that I am making progress on (or have completed!) what is truly important to me.
If I had a gazillion years in this life, I *might* watch more t.v. Because I likely don't have more than 100 years, I chose to risk, and to live. Do me a favor, remind me of that next time you catch me watching reruns of "I Love Lucy."
Grief & Freedom
Not having children does not have to mean unending grief.
I received a phone call from a woman in another state. She will likely never birth a child of her own, and she called because I was the only person she found on the web who expressed a hopeful view of life without children of one’s own. She had read story after story of women who constantly grieve their childless life. She wanted assurance that there is another way to live. There is.
I shared with her my own story. I left a wonderful relationship at the age of 40 because I knew I needed to try to find a partner with whom I could have children. I knew it was a gamble at my age (I have been known to take risks…). At 44, I realized my chances were waning and I decided to let go of that dream. I went through a ritual, grieved intensely for awhile, and bought myself some beautiful jewelry to symbolize the shift in my life plans. I felt a weight drop off my psyche, and I felt a new freedom to move forward with my life.
I still have tinges of regret sometimes. Overall, though, I am content with my life, and I appreciate the freedom my life gives me.
Every woman deals with her loss of dreams differently. In the groups I have the privilege to run, I see women who are coping in many different ways. What they all have in common is their determination to move through life as consciously and gracefully as they are able. They inspire me with their courage.
So yes, there is a way other than unending grief. There are many ways of courage, strength, hope, and freedom.
I received a phone call from a woman in another state. She will likely never birth a child of her own, and she called because I was the only person she found on the web who expressed a hopeful view of life without children of one’s own. She had read story after story of women who constantly grieve their childless life. She wanted assurance that there is another way to live. There is.
I shared with her my own story. I left a wonderful relationship at the age of 40 because I knew I needed to try to find a partner with whom I could have children. I knew it was a gamble at my age (I have been known to take risks…). At 44, I realized my chances were waning and I decided to let go of that dream. I went through a ritual, grieved intensely for awhile, and bought myself some beautiful jewelry to symbolize the shift in my life plans. I felt a weight drop off my psyche, and I felt a new freedom to move forward with my life.
I still have tinges of regret sometimes. Overall, though, I am content with my life, and I appreciate the freedom my life gives me.
Every woman deals with her loss of dreams differently. In the groups I have the privilege to run, I see women who are coping in many different ways. What they all have in common is their determination to move through life as consciously and gracefully as they are able. They inspire me with their courage.
So yes, there is a way other than unending grief. There are many ways of courage, strength, hope, and freedom.
It's Not About Me
“It’s a good thing we aren’t dating huh?”
He was right.
My friend asked me to call him to make sure he was awake to pick me up for a 6 a.m. trip to the airport. He wasn’t…and his phone was turned off. I was nervous, but not angry. My energy went into problem-solving mode to make sure I didn’t miss my flight.
If we were dating I might have been angry—angry because he obviously didn’t care enough to make sure he would be awake. He didn’t care enough not to make a mistake. Because he is a friend and not a partner, I could see the situation for what it was—He forgot to leave his phone on—simply that. It was not about me. His mistake did not reflect our depth of friendship.
I realized after hearing him say “It’s a good thing we aren’t dating huh?” how much we can make others’ actions a reflection of us. I also realized how much happier I am when I take people's actions and words at face value. They are acting according to their desires. I get to decide if I like the actions, but I don’t get to decide the motivation behind their actions. (I have plenty on my hands analyzing my own actions!)
So when I get perturbed or flummoxed about something someone else says or does, I repeat “It’s not about me.” That simple phrase gives me peace of mind.
Oh, the airport ride? He picked me up at 6 a.m. on the dot.
He was right.
My friend asked me to call him to make sure he was awake to pick me up for a 6 a.m. trip to the airport. He wasn’t…and his phone was turned off. I was nervous, but not angry. My energy went into problem-solving mode to make sure I didn’t miss my flight.
If we were dating I might have been angry—angry because he obviously didn’t care enough to make sure he would be awake. He didn’t care enough not to make a mistake. Because he is a friend and not a partner, I could see the situation for what it was—He forgot to leave his phone on—simply that. It was not about me. His mistake did not reflect our depth of friendship.
I realized after hearing him say “It’s a good thing we aren’t dating huh?” how much we can make others’ actions a reflection of us. I also realized how much happier I am when I take people's actions and words at face value. They are acting according to their desires. I get to decide if I like the actions, but I don’t get to decide the motivation behind their actions. (I have plenty on my hands analyzing my own actions!)
So when I get perturbed or flummoxed about something someone else says or does, I repeat “It’s not about me.” That simple phrase gives me peace of mind.
Oh, the airport ride? He picked me up at 6 a.m. on the dot.
It is Time
Last week the third group for women over 40 who never had kids was completed. Each time this series ends, I leave my office with a sense of gratitude and a sense of loss.
I am grateful for the women who chose to participate, and the bravery it takes to make the decision to take part. I am awed by the creativity with which these women chose to live their lives; and I am heartened by the hope they have for their future, even when they hold grief, or confusion, or anger.
I also feel a sense of loss because I look forward to seeing them every week and hearing about their lives. Though the sessions, a container is created in which women share and bond. A connection is made, and then we disperse.
So I've made up my mind.
It is time to do what I've desired since the first group ended. I will now offer monthly drop-in groups for women over 40 who never had kids—to gather, share, and connect. It is open to women who have taken part in my groups, and to women who haven’t but are curious.
I am grateful for the women who chose to participate, and the bravery it takes to make the decision to take part. I am awed by the creativity with which these women chose to live their lives; and I am heartened by the hope they have for their future, even when they hold grief, or confusion, or anger.
I also feel a sense of loss because I look forward to seeing them every week and hearing about their lives. Though the sessions, a container is created in which women share and bond. A connection is made, and then we disperse.
So I've made up my mind.
It is time to do what I've desired since the first group ended. I will now offer monthly drop-in groups for women over 40 who never had kids—to gather, share, and connect. It is open to women who have taken part in my groups, and to women who haven’t but are curious.
Meeting Triggers
I had an exhausting weekend working with triggers.
Do you ever respond to something that, on the surface, seems relatively minor, yet your response is immediate and intense? Further, your response is not how you would like to respond, given a choice? That is how you know you have met a trigger.
I just spent my entire weekend training in Lifespan Integration with Peggy Pace. It was intense. The basic concept is that when we have experiences that are traumatizing to us in some way, our self at that age becomes a part of us that is not integrated. That part continues to vigilantly watch out for similar situations, a.k.a. triggers, so we can protect ourselves. The problem is we protect ourselves from the perspective of our age during the original incident, rather than the mature adult we have become.
Lifespan Integration is about letting go of those triggers. I can't explain how it works in this blog--I just spent two whole days learning it--but suffice to say it is powerful.
I can tell you one thing that was reinforced this weekend. The presence and confidence of a therapist is central. The therapist's role is to convey "there is a new way--and I am here to shine the light to help you find that new way." My work is to not only inspire hope in my clients that change is possible, but to truly know that change can, and will, come.
That, is powerful work.
Do you ever respond to something that, on the surface, seems relatively minor, yet your response is immediate and intense? Further, your response is not how you would like to respond, given a choice? That is how you know you have met a trigger.
I just spent my entire weekend training in Lifespan Integration with Peggy Pace. It was intense. The basic concept is that when we have experiences that are traumatizing to us in some way, our self at that age becomes a part of us that is not integrated. That part continues to vigilantly watch out for similar situations, a.k.a. triggers, so we can protect ourselves. The problem is we protect ourselves from the perspective of our age during the original incident, rather than the mature adult we have become.
Lifespan Integration is about letting go of those triggers. I can't explain how it works in this blog--I just spent two whole days learning it--but suffice to say it is powerful.
I can tell you one thing that was reinforced this weekend. The presence and confidence of a therapist is central. The therapist's role is to convey "there is a new way--and I am here to shine the light to help you find that new way." My work is to not only inspire hope in my clients that change is possible, but to truly know that change can, and will, come.
That, is powerful work.
Groups are wonderful things to leave
Let me tell you why I say that.
Today I "processed" out of a group for women who are business owners (run by Mikelann Valterra http://www.womenearning.com/). I have been part of the group for almost three years. I have received many gifts from taking part in that group of women. I am sad to leave, and it is time.
One of the reasons I started my groups for women over 40 who never had kids was because of the power of Mikelann's group. Being in a community of women with whom I can share my fears, struggles, enthusiasm, and successes is powerful.
Many of my clients feel they are alone in their struggles. Groups help us see there are kindred souls sharing our journey through this magical, and sometimes mystifying life.
So why do I say groups are wonderful things to leave?
Two reasons--First, in the conscious process of deciding to leave, we realize how much we have learned over the time of our participation. We come to see the value of our time, effort, and energy. Second, we can hear how others in the group see us. Most of the time we walk around blithely ignorant of our effect on those around us. It is when we leave that we find out. (If I had my way, that would be different.)
So, I will continue to participate in and, when the time is right, leave the wonderful supportive, and life-giving culture of groups.
Today I "processed" out of a group for women who are business owners (run by Mikelann Valterra http://www.womenearning.com/). I have been part of the group for almost three years. I have received many gifts from taking part in that group of women. I am sad to leave, and it is time.
One of the reasons I started my groups for women over 40 who never had kids was because of the power of Mikelann's group. Being in a community of women with whom I can share my fears, struggles, enthusiasm, and successes is powerful.
Many of my clients feel they are alone in their struggles. Groups help us see there are kindred souls sharing our journey through this magical, and sometimes mystifying life.
So why do I say groups are wonderful things to leave?
Two reasons--First, in the conscious process of deciding to leave, we realize how much we have learned over the time of our participation. We come to see the value of our time, effort, and energy. Second, we can hear how others in the group see us. Most of the time we walk around blithely ignorant of our effect on those around us. It is when we leave that we find out. (If I had my way, that would be different.)
So, I will continue to participate in and, when the time is right, leave the wonderful supportive, and life-giving culture of groups.
“You could make your name in Swelled Head Therapy.”
My response—“I would *love* that!”
My client and I were talking about the propensity for parents to tell their kids “don’t get a swelled head”. Many of us in this society grew up believing that being proud of ourselves was a bad thing.
How do you respond when you get a compliment? Do you try to brush it off—“Oh, it’s nothing” or “I had a lot of help”, or do you say “thank you” and really mean it?
The other day a couple of colleagues told me they were impressed that I’d turned something in two weeks ahead of time. My response was “Thank you! I’m impressed with myself too!” We all laughed.
One of my goals in therapy is to help my clients have more compassion for their inevitable human mistakes, and to put it bluntly, celebrate themselves.
The problems with boasting come when we brag because we don’t understand our worth, and we try to convince others of what we don’t believe ourselves. That gets annoying.
When we truly value ourselves and we share that enthusiasm with others, people tend to celebrate with us, and everyone feels happier.
Let’s celebrate our swelled heads!
My client and I were talking about the propensity for parents to tell their kids “don’t get a swelled head”. Many of us in this society grew up believing that being proud of ourselves was a bad thing.
How do you respond when you get a compliment? Do you try to brush it off—“Oh, it’s nothing” or “I had a lot of help”, or do you say “thank you” and really mean it?
The other day a couple of colleagues told me they were impressed that I’d turned something in two weeks ahead of time. My response was “Thank you! I’m impressed with myself too!” We all laughed.
One of my goals in therapy is to help my clients have more compassion for their inevitable human mistakes, and to put it bluntly, celebrate themselves.
The problems with boasting come when we brag because we don’t understand our worth, and we try to convince others of what we don’t believe ourselves. That gets annoying.
When we truly value ourselves and we share that enthusiasm with others, people tend to celebrate with us, and everyone feels happier.
Let’s celebrate our swelled heads!
Inner Knowing
I was recently listening to a speaker who asked us what we would share, if we knew we had one minute to live. What is the most important thing we know? I realized I would tell people to listen to yourself for your answers. As long as we look to others for answers, for our sense of worth, we will always be off balance.
I spent much of my life believing others knew what was best for me. I remember a watershed moment, about 10 years ago, when I first questioned that belief. I was on Edisto Island, in South Carolina, with four dear friends from college years. Several of them were offering me advice on how to get a relationship, or have children, or something along those lines. I realized they were offering me their answers. I also realized they did not know what was best for me. That was the first time I consciously held that knowledge.
Since then my trust in my own knowing has continued to grow. I still have times of confusion, and times when I ask others their opinion, but I no longer believe they know me better than I know myself. Their thoughts can spark new ideas, or point out something I had forgotten, but they cannot give me my answers.
With that knowing I have come more into my own sovereignty—and my friends no longer are burdened by figuring out what I need to do.
I spent much of my life believing others knew what was best for me. I remember a watershed moment, about 10 years ago, when I first questioned that belief. I was on Edisto Island, in South Carolina, with four dear friends from college years. Several of them were offering me advice on how to get a relationship, or have children, or something along those lines. I realized they were offering me their answers. I also realized they did not know what was best for me. That was the first time I consciously held that knowledge.
Since then my trust in my own knowing has continued to grow. I still have times of confusion, and times when I ask others their opinion, but I no longer believe they know me better than I know myself. Their thoughts can spark new ideas, or point out something I had forgotten, but they cannot give me my answers.
With that knowing I have come more into my own sovereignty—and my friends no longer are burdened by figuring out what I need to do.
Poems and Quotes that Inspire Me
"The effect of one good-hearted person is incalculable."
Oscar Arias
He who binds to himself a Joy,
Does the winged life destroy;
He who kisses the Joy as it flies,
Lives in Eternity's sunrise.
William Blake
"We are fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance."
Japanese Proverb
What is this group magic…
The humility to be real in front of others
when we speak, we speak for many...
when we hear, we hear for many...
Jennifer Wells
"When death finds you, let if find you alive."
African Proverb
"He who knows others is clever;
He who knows himself has discernment."
Lao-Tzu (604-531 B.C.)
Grief and Transcendence
There is magic
in sitting in the wild, raging,
ravishing stillness of grief.
BG
"When you try to control the outcome, you lose the potential for wonderment."
Gerry Gramek
I catch
the maple leaf
then let it go.
John Wills
"Wellness is not about health--It is about attitude."
Bernie Segal
"One does not discover new lands without consenting
to lose sight of the shore for a very long time."
Andre Gide
Thirst
The uses of Sorrow
(In my sleep I dreamed this)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this too was a gift.
Mary Oliver
Oscar Arias
He who binds to himself a Joy,
Does the winged life destroy;
He who kisses the Joy as it flies,
Lives in Eternity's sunrise.
William Blake
"We are fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance."
Japanese Proverb
What is this group magic…
The humility to be real in front of others
when we speak, we speak for many...
when we hear, we hear for many...
Jennifer Wells
"When death finds you, let if find you alive."
African Proverb
"He who knows others is clever;
He who knows himself has discernment."
Lao-Tzu (604-531 B.C.)
Grief and Transcendence
There is magic
in sitting in the wild, raging,
ravishing stillness of grief.
BG
"When you try to control the outcome, you lose the potential for wonderment."
Gerry Gramek
I catch
the maple leaf
then let it go.
John Wills
"Wellness is not about health--It is about attitude."
Bernie Segal
"One does not discover new lands without consenting
to lose sight of the shore for a very long time."
Andre Gide
Thirst
The uses of Sorrow
(In my sleep I dreamed this)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this too was a gift.
Mary Oliver
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