Showing posts with label my life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my life. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 16, 2020

Strange Job Situations

I was on FB with some friends talking about the weirdest or oddest thing that had ever happened to us at work. Here's mine:

I'm a therapist and I used to work in my home town;
I switched from one agency in this small town to another agency in the same small town.

Starting this new job, I took over a caseload of clients that another therapist had been seeing. While I was reviewing and looking at the files of my new clients, I noticed that one my new clients was the best friend of one of my clients from the OTHER agency across town. I'd already met this new client of mine several times because the two girls would often be together when they'd "drop in" to chat with me in the office.

So I started reading my new client's file. It told of how the client and her friend were in love with and stalking the friend's therapist at the other agency.
 
Yes, ME.
They were stalking me.
 
 What's YOUR weirdest work story? 
 
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Tuesday, September 8, 2020

How Can I Convince Them?


I spend YEARS of my life trying to convince someone that they were wrong about me.

It was someone determined to believe what he wanted to believe. Reality, truth, emotion, evidence. NOTHING convinced him otherwise and, worse, he spread stories and his opinion about me far and wide. To this day, I still feel it in some people when I interact with them. There is very little I can to do change it.

Why am I talking about this?
Because I see it on Facebook all of the time.

HOW can I convince my loved one to see that BL really do M?
What can I say to explain to my loved one how horrible the current president and his administration are?

Good people are constantly looking for the perfect words and phrases to convince their loved ones of fundamental humanist beliefs, of the belief in the goodness of all people.

So what are those words?
I'm sorry, but the answer is there are no special words.

There is nothing you can say.
These people aren't lacking in evidence; they are lacking in desire to believe what you believe or know to be true.
That is racism and that is a choice.

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of the world.
All things break. And all things can be mended.
Not with time, as they say, but with intention.
So go. Love intentionally, extravagantly, unconditionally.
The broken world waits in darkness for the light that is you
.

~L.R. Knost


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Tuesday, June 30, 2020

Validation


The other day my client lamented, “I need validation. I shouldn’t.”

I asked him to sit back a moment and listen.

The baddest people on the planet need validation, I told him. Military people need validation. They get amazing arrays of pins across their chests, medals, awards, bars, patches, salutes, statues, commemorations, and accolades of all kinds. Performers need validation. There are dozens of award shows where performers and all of those people who work in those fields get nominations and awards every single year. Those shows get millions of viewers. Athletes need validation. They get rings and cups and awards and cash bonuses and signs and fanfare and parades and fans and social status. Wrestlers get a gold belt the size of a dinner plate, for goodness sake. People in business need validation. They get bonuses, fancy titles, extra time off, mention in the newsletter, certificates, staff/manager meetings, and all forms of recognition.

From hearts and flowers to cards and gifts, from toasts to roasts. We need our birthdays, cards, LIKE on Facebook, exploding fireworks on gifs, gaming coins for decent game playing, tips for workers, holidays, remembering, hugs, dates, play dates, public call outs on social media, private validations between people. Most online purchasing is rewarded by the sellers, much as we reward the sellers with validation. Who hasn’t asked you for a review of their product, service, or brand?

Humans are a validation-seeking species. Validation lets us know that we are accepted and approved of by our tribe; it lets us know that we are connected in to the life-giving groups that we populate. The genuine offering of kindness, love and approval makes our brains release the happy chemicals that light up our lives.

As we move through the complexities of our lives, expressing ourselves with our very lives, others noticing our actions is the glue that keeps us together as individuals, as dyads, as groups members. Acknowledging our loved ones efforts is considered the highest form of loving them. In fact, the human need for validation is so great that Abraham Maslow accounts for it on the essential hierarchy of needs for human beings for good mental and emotional health.

Interestingly, offering validation is a relationship skill that we seldom hear about, seldom practice, seldom value. But the absence of validation is the main reason many couples enter into therapy. Couples, families, humans seeking intimacy with others often have not learned the basics of validation in relationships and are frozen in their confusion and need. 

So how do I offer validation to others?

Answer: Honestly and often.
Take time regularly to see your partner, spouse, child, friend, coworker. Notice their efforts. Express sincere interest in their activities, emotions, efforts. Let them know that “I see you there.” Let them know that, just as they are in that moment, in all of their glorious vulnerability and imperfections, you love them and find value in them.

Great, now how do I elicit validation from others?
Ah, there is the rub. You cannot do this. Coerced or manipulated validation from others feels...invalidating. Instead, model validating behavior and, then learn to validate yourself.

  • Become the very thing that you need.
  • Begin to notice others around you.
  • Recognize effort.
  • Put everything down and listen.
  • Give generously of your time.
  • Respond to their energy, enthusiasm, passion.
  • Ask questions to learn more.
  • And do it again tomorrow.

Yes, needing to be validated by others is hard-wired into our brains. At the same time, it’s worthwhile to learn to validate ourselves too. Let’s celebrate that. Let’s get working on self-validating. Then we’ll always have enough.

My client was moved. He sat back and replied, “I’m ready.”

Monday, June 15, 2020

TEN Random Things About Me


TEN Random Things About Me Tonight
  1. Tonight I'm playing this song over and over and over again because I'm really REALLY in love with my husband.
  2. I went to make dinner tonight and there was NOTHING. So we had Chinese delivery and it was delicious!
    I had Chicken Egg Foo Young.
  3. I've been taking vitamins for hair and nails and I think I'm finally beginning to see some progress. My nails have been suffering since my new meds and treatments this year for cancer. I've been missing the easiness I've always had in growing long and strong nails.
    The things we worry about. LOL  😄
  4. This afternoon my son and I went out to the park for a couple of hours. There is no better company. 💙💚💜
  5. I'm trying a new style of underwear.
    Yes I am.
    I'm trying the boyfriend style.
    I just wanted more comfort.
    LOL  😁
  6. I'm currently reading a book called The Last Cabin in the World by Paul Tremblay. I'm about 2/3 of the way through it and I'm still thinking WTF is this book about.
    I was looking for something apocalyptic to read and this one came up on my library search.
  7. Screen shot
    from a video chat.

    With this quarantine, the WORST part for me: I miss my grandbabies and my sister Linda so much.
    We keep in contact every way we can!
  8. I just sent my grandbabies some surprise toys from Amazon.
  9. I'm doing all of my work on video chat with clients right now. I thought it would be very weird and awkward, but it turns out that it's pretty nice.
    It's very flexible and we can chat quite comfortably.
    On the other hand, I feel waaaay more tired after a night of teletherapy than I every did from a night in the office with clients face-to-face.
  10. It's 3am and I'm going to bed.

    Take care, ya' all. 💛

Friday, February 21, 2020

Pink Ribbon


So, I've been wondering about Social Media and how to manage your life on it. It's so weird. TMI, TLI? I don't know.
So, I decided to just share my stuff, the stuff going on because it makes sense to and because I care about my friends and family and I think they would care. I hate being the person who is the last to know...
Three weeks ago I was diagnosed with breast cancer, the good kind, IDC with no lymph node involvement, stage 1. If you Google it you will see that this form of cancer is highly-treatable and with good prognosis.
So I'm very optimistic about it.
I had a lumpectomy this week and I'll be getting radiation treatments for a couple of weeks, starting in about a month.
SO, I'm now status-post lumpectomy, some minor pain and discomfort, but mostly fine!
Geez, would you tell everybody like this? I have NO idea!


Friday, February 7, 2020

Grief and Eddie


Tonight I'm grieving Eddie Vedder.
Not because he died, he's still here!

I'm grieving him because I just discovered him!

I wasn't into Grunge in the 90s; I'm not really into it now. But I do remember just ignoring so much of the new music coming out because I was just too busy to pay it any mind. I vaguely recall my sister Linda trying to introduce her music to me. I was in graduate school in the 90s, then getting married, then mother to a newborn. I really didn't have any extra attention to pay. Besides, I was still rocking out to the 70s tunes.  🤣
Not really. I wasn't listening to much music at all. I mean, all I had was the radio and CD player...so when I think of music at that time, all I actually remember playing alot of was a favorite Kenny Loggins CD.

In the past couple of years I've also been exploring different movie genre', book genre', authors, art, all kind of interesting cultural experiences. I feel like the world is a smorgasbord and it's music time.


Anyway, so the other night I was just messing around on youtube listening to a variety of music. Lately I'm enjoying exploring other genres of music that I have never given time to. I guess I'm a bit bored with my own favorites. Though how one can be bored of Kenny and Luther after only thirty years of nonstop listening, I don't know.


So I was messing around and I kept thinking to myself, DANG, my memory stinks. Who is that one band that I keep meaning to give a listen to?  For several days in a row I tried to remember but just could not. Luckily, my son reminded me, it was Pearl Jam. I was listening to our local rock station KSHE a week or so ago when a song came on that had me quickly Shazamming the thing. It was Black by Pearl Jam.

Yeah. That one.
The lyrics, Man!

So, anyway, long story short, I pulled up some Pearl Jam last night and got lost in their songs, and, eventually, in everything by Eddie Vedder. Dude, I love him.

YES, he's hawt.
But he's SO COOL and so interesting and so real. I love his voice and his lyrics and his career. I listened to several songs he sang with other big singers and just...fangirled.


Then I started feeling super sorry for myself for not being mad for the guy for the last, what, thirty years? 🤣  I'm so late to the game!!! So, now, I'll be giving him his due. I plan on listening to everything: concerts, covers, interviews, covers, everything! And, certainly, looking at every possible image of this gorgeous dude. Fergoodnesssake! I didn't know!!!!!

So, if you've been awake these past few decades, I'm jealous. I've been missing so much great stuff...I wonder what else is out there???

Any suggestions? Send me your playlist! But, Girl, make it as amazing as EV!


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Monday, December 2, 2019

My Own Mind


I don't know if you've ever spent any time looking at the masthead on my blog, that part at the top of the blog page with my cheesy pic on the right, next to the quotation by Ralph Waldo Emerson. The quotation reads Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind. I chose that quotation in my life and for this blog very deliberately.

Emerson was a 19th century philosopher, writer, lecturer. He wrote and spoke about something called the Transcendentalism movement, a school of philosophy that gained some intellectual popularity in the early- to mid-1800s, probably in response to the anti-intellectualism brought on by various strains of religion. You can read about Transcendentalism in many great places online, so check it out if you are interested in this. Absolutely inherent in the belief system of Transcendentalism is a belief in the goodness of people and of nature. 

Furthermore, these folks believed that society and its institutions, mainly religions, actually impair and undermine the goodness of each individual. If you've ever read Emerson's series of essays called Self-Reliance, that is what he is referring to, the idea that individuals should rely upon their own thoughts, instincts, and opinions rather than conform to those of other institutions. Emerson would say that individuals are best when they are independent, that, were we, as individuals, to rely upon our own minds rather than those of past authors/philosophers/lecturers, we individuals would create our own independent thought and be better people, thus, self reliance.

Don't blindly follow the thoughts and beliefs of others, true independence comes from self-reliance, and nothing can bring you peace except for yourself. That's what Emerson was saying.

SO, I love the basis of Transcendentalism, though, naturally, I don't follow anyone or any doctrine...kind of like what Transcendantalism says to do.  LOL The quotation at the top of this page reflects exactly how I feel about the necessity for questioning, for continued learning, and for absolute respect for the process of exploration and of the unknown. 

The quote is an incitement, a catalyst, an inducement to myself and to all of those who read this blog to cultivate a life of free thought, of questioning, and of integrity.

Good night, Folks.

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Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Thanksgiving


This year I've been very, very proactive making healthy decisions in my life, removing people out of my life who are toxic or painful... Over these past few years I have taken many steps in my life, steps that I've needed to take, to make deliberate decisions about who is in my life. I just don't have the energy for that kind of toxic crap.

Regardless of how deliberate it is, it's still hard. I'm a Family Person. Although I'm generally very happy in my life and glad that I've made the decisions that I've made, there are certain times of the year when it starts to get to me. These holidays are those days for me.

It's already started. Lucky for me, I've got some truly wonderful and loving people under this roof and they've already been so supportive...

Today John was the one I was talking with. Among many other things he said to me, Mom, you ARE a family person. And, though we don't have other family now, we have us. And in a few years, there will be more of us, and you will always spend the holidays with my kids.


Like, yeah, he said that. He gets it.

In the meantime, I'm struggling a bit.
But Happy Thanksgiving to you.


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Friday, November 22, 2019

I'm Sensitive


You're too sensitive.
If I've heard it once, I've heard it, literally, a thousand times. Someone notices that my feelings have been hurt by something they've said or done so they shake their head, little frown, and say Aw, tip of the head, you're so sensitive.


I have spent a good deal of my life apologizing for being sensitive. I've had people minimize their own rudeness/unkindness by simply thinking it is my sensitivity that is the problem and not their own rudeness or their boorishness or their bull-in-a-china-shop-...ness.
This has been an ongoing and constant issue for me. Nearly everyone in my family did this, only my sister Linda did NOT do this to me.
So I've been quite ashamed of that part of me for years. But no more and never again.

The truth is, I am. I'm sensitive.
It's a huge part of who I am.
I own it and I'm grateful to it because it makes me the kind of person that I am proud to be. So I don't just accept that part of me, I celebrate it.

If this describes you too, take heart.

* I know I post about this issue alot...it's a thing for me...

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Monday, November 18, 2019

Name for It: Misogyny


Just a thing on my mind.
It's been on my mind for years.


When I was young, I got pregnant. Right?
I had so much pain and judgement from that. People who labeled me whore.

But it was like it happened to me alone. I carried the stigma. I lived with the so-called disgrace. I was humiliated in a million different ways, and for years. In my family, I was smeared and stigmatized...I became the pariah. It was actually weird because I clearly wasn't the worst kid in the world, but being sexually active...oh geez, we can't have that! I wasn't even the only kid in the family (sibs, cousins, others, etc) who was sexually active. I mean, really, the stories I knew about other people... I was treated like tramp even though I was in a long-term relationship with the guy. Sheesh.


Anyway, both during and after my pregnancy I was person who was labeled; I was the besmirched name; * I was the ne'er-do-well. 

Guess who didn't lose either face or reputation.
My boyfriend.


Oh sure, he got some crap up front. Sure, his mother gave him the omnipresent Catholic guilt, but over all he was fine. The long run? He went on with his life. No problems with work. No problems with friends. No lingering problems with his family. He didn't even seem to have any depression, as I did for years. And no names. He was called no names. Not a single one.

Why is that?
No, really?
Why is it that the mother gets to be, as his mother called me, The Whore of Babylon? Why was he allowed to just skip away? No, I care enough for him that I truly didn't want him to have this same problem, but why is it this way? I carried that letter
A for many years, many, many years, while he just walked away unscathed**

I don't know, just an old, never before voiced, rant.

In the meantime, the baby?
She was adopted as a newborn.
She's now 41 years old, married, mother of two. If she EVER comes here and sees this picture, she'll be angry. And rightly so. 

But here she is, my daughter and her beautiful family.   --------------------------->


* ME! I mean, do you know me? Geeeesh.
** Actually there is a name for this, it's misogyny, gender inequality, sexism.

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Sunday, November 17, 2019

I Know Who I Am


I'm all for the government staying out of my damn life, if it can also make sure that people in need have the support that they need to survive. I'm terribly extroverted, unless I'm not. I'm deliciously introverted, unless I'm not. I've got get out of the house; when I'm not snuggled up on the couch. I'm extremely friendly, unless I'm just keeping to myself that day. I'm feet on the floor, until those days that the existential thoughts, again, swirl my mind. And I'm connected to some exceptionally people, as well as being completely in my own bubble on some days. I feel tranquil, yet driven.

I'm all of these things.
And do you know why?
Because I'm finally me. Me, in all of my varying degrees of things.

For many years I'd thought that I'd really known myself...turns out, I had no idea! But I can say that I'm finally beginning to know me. How weird is that? Turning fifty was a real turning point in my life. It was such a freeing thing, such an empowering thing. I've often heard older women talk about feeling empowered in their fifties, but I simply could not conceive of such a thing, until now.


How could I know that the freedom of reinvention would become a real presence in my life, that the deep love that I feel for people in my life would deepen, widen, develop quiet violence? Rather then sliding down that slippery slope, I feel like the world is opening to me. Rather than paddling and paddling to stay in place, doors open to me and people welcome me in as legit, no need to prove myself anymore. I own literally every single thing that I'll ever need and have no need to accumulate any more stuff. I am both invisible and powerful beyond belief out in the world.


Yes, I am that person who talks to you in the grocery aisle. I'll drive up, roll down my car window and have a chat with you on the roadside. I'll stop and give you the time you need. I'll greet the mailman at the box. I'll drop everything to spend time with you, with your kids, with your kids' friends. I wear comfortable clothing, hair up in a do, eating healthy, wearing sneakers and a cozy, warm sweatshirt with dangling earrings. My sister Linda is my best friend. I'm fitting into the smaller sizes and I often choose to dress up just for fun. I think fondly of high school rather than thinking of it as a cesspool of neurosis. I look at my slightly-greying husband and fondly think He's getting to be a grumpy bugger. I can identify with several different generations and I feel like I fit in comfortably with almost everyone. But mostly, I don't give a FUCK what anybody else thinks.
 

Being in my fifties is wonderful and freeing and expanding and, as soon as this Advil kicks in, I'm going to kick my heals up and party like it's 1999!

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Monday, November 4, 2019

Pornography


Here's another grey area for you.

Actually, maybe it's not so grey after all...

When I was growing up, my dad has pornography in the house. On the walls. In the closets. Sitting out. In the john, of course.

This was a house with one young boy and three young girls. This was a house where Mom left (GEE, Wonder why? ) and the kids were raised by this man. This man who thought it was OK to have pictures of nude women hanging around, who thought it was OK to have pornography (not the classy kind) just sitting around, accessible to these young minds.


Yep. I looked at it.
Yep. I was affected by it.


This morning I was thinking about what I thought about it all of those years ago and how I was affected by it. How I am, in fact, still affected by it. Let's start with a thing that happened when I was in the second grade.

I was in my second grade class, talking to some boys. They mentioned naked women and I said, "I can show you lots of naked women!" So we organized a trip to walk over to my house (literally 100 steps from the classroom door) so that these boys could see the naked pictures. I remember it being at least two boys (Tom an Michael), but I know that there was at least one other boy. We walked over to my house and into the garage. I turned on the lights/ the boys eyes lit up! The walls were covered with pictures. I felt kind of proud, kind of knowing, kind of generous. That is, until Mom came out and scooted us out of the garage. Until that moment I had no idea that it was a shameful thing or that there was something untoward about having naked pictures on the wall. To me, that was normal.


When I first became curious about the books and magazines around the house, I guess I was pretty young, in elementary school. Somewhere I ran across this old black and white dirty magazine of sorts. While most of Dad's pornography was of young women, this thing had an image of a naked dude standing there with a huge penis. As a kid I remember looking at that picture and feeling horrified at that hideous thing. I kept that picture hidden for months just so I could look at it with disgust.

As I got older, the message was always something like "Women are either virgins or whores." So any sexual activity, regardless of how freaking normal that is, was viewed as being a whore, being sinful, being unlovable. In fact, as soon as my sex life became common knowledge in the family (thanks to my brother reading my diary when I was 16 or 17...), my dad moved about fifty miles from me emotionally. From that moment forward, he never acted loving toward me again, and he died almost forty years later...

Imagine that weird dichotomy. Pornography all over the place, but we're not supposed to be sexual or to have sexual experiences. I was effed up about that one for decades...
What's normal? What's real? What's healthy?
All of these issues have reared their ugly heads because of the normalcy of pornography in my life.


Anyway, more stuff in my teens...somehow my boyfriends were from very conservative families, resulting in mothers hating me. Whore.
Yep.


And the pornography?
Somehow it gave me a weird, fucked up vision of women, of femininity, of sexuality. Using and enjoying pornography doesn't bother me. Use it if you like. Be in it, if you choose to. Enjoy it. Just use your integrity...your principles.

And, forgoodnessake, keep it off of your walls!


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Thursday, October 10, 2019

ME: Across the Years


Check it outI've been scrolling through a few old pics tonight and found some that I absolutely have to share. These pics are all from different times in my life, times that bring back such love and warmth into my heart...
Interested in seeing them? I thought I'd just share them here because I haven't been writing here much lately from being so dang busy and these pics are so very special to me, thought I'd write a post with a real bang.  LOL



I decided to stick with pictures this time that I actually appear in simply because I'm feeling a bit reminiscent this evening and it's been making me feel incredibly happy, and isn't that nice?




This first one is a Polaroid pic (of course) that my sister took while I was taking my five month old daughter Elizabeth to meet my dearest great aunt, and Elizabeth's namesake, Aunt Elizabeth Becker. When I look at this picture I immediately get tears in my eyes. Aunt Elizabeth was super special to me. In this picture she was about 100 years old, living at home with her dear son taking care of her. Although this shot didn't catch Aunt Elizabeth smiling, she was usually in such high spirits and incredibly happy whenever family would visit. How much I wish I could visit her just once more...

I visited her at least once a week, more if I was able, and Aunt Elizabeth always loved and kissed on Elizabeth. Sitting here looking at this picture at this very moment...I'm choked up. See the smile on my face? That's because I always felt like I was presenting Aunt Elizabeth my dear baby girl as a gift to her somehow... At this point in life I was working part time, Elizabeth in daycare, still nursing her, and yearning for her so much during the day. I will always remember how loved I felt when Jerry suggested I stay home with her...how much I felt he understood my need to be there with her...


Yeah, this pictures brings me great joy.



This next shot was taking in 1980 when I was a Junior in high school. I remember this exact moment for some reason. Dad had a decent camera back in those days, an Olympus OM10, and he took lots of pics of my sisters and brother and I. He would take those pics to work, to every event he went to, shuffle through them, show us off to everyone. Yeah, Dad always had the camera and a stack of pictures with him all of the time...I remember this particular moment of sitting on that hideous chair in the summer time, feeling happy and in love with my boyfriend. LOL

Dad was teasing me and my sister was mad at me for wearing her shirt. At this point in time I was about, what 16-17 years old, feeling pretty optimistic, generally happy. When I see myself there, I want to tell that girl "Hang on, you're gonna make it!"



This last one was taken in 2017 when my dearest Elizabeth was graduating from community college. She and I were out running around taking pictures of her in her cap and gown...can you see how freaking BLUE her eyes are in this pic? If you've never noticed that before, for some reason this pic comes close to really showing how amazing her eyes are.

I remember this moment specifically because she was SO freaking happy and so in love with me in this moment.  lol We were in a gorgeous garden building here in St. Louis called The Jewel Box all by ourselves, just shooting pic after pic of Elizabeth in her cap and town...feeling so happy, accomplished, pretty ecstatic, actually. lol
I remember this moment because my heart was so full of love and pride for her...


I love pictures. I have often thought that, were my house to burn to the ground, my pictures are the only thing I would miss. I actually miss the days we would take the film, mail it away or drop it off for developing, waiting anywhere from 5-15 day to get them back, pay our $3 per roll, then have a handful of pictures to shuffle through...I loved getting my film developed. Now every single pic I've taken in the past decade or more are stored digitally somewhere and, now that I think of it, that's kind of sad.


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Monday, September 9, 2019

Pantyhose


Continuing a theme, I know. And possibly getting repetitive and boring, this theme of being 55... But this time I have a vow: I will NEVER ever EVER wear pantyhose again. I will never again select the so-called flesh tone (NO ONE is actually that color), purchase something that, in no conceivable way, one size fits all, pay way too much, pull each leg up, fingers-over-thumb, slip my toes in, repeat for the second foot and leg, pull them up gently but firmly with a high likelihood of running them, adjusting the restricting ultra-thin fabric over my legs, masking them completely, shimmy into the chafing control top, adjust the placement of the crotch area to the not-too-loose and not-too-tight itchy perfect spot, pull the binding band up and over the belly, deal with the continual roll down waist band all damn day, and the sit down/stand up adjustment.
 

I absolutely refuse. Just WTF.

Is the skin on my legs not perfect enough? Are they not smooth enough? Is my abdomen not tight enough? Is the color not uniform enough? To whom do I owe this effort to present a defect less leg? To whom do we owe such binding?

You know that some business spaces require pantyhose to complete a professional look. You know, to wear with the high heels. Some special or formal events have dress codes that presuppose pantyhose with your high heels if you are a female. Pantyhose are de rigeur in nearly every social etiquette situation.



Is this an issue of feminism?
Or of the ruling patriarchy?

Do we owe it to someone to have attractive legs? 

Whatever it is, I simply refuse it.
 

In fact, the last time I wore pantyhose, several years ago, they were so completely uncomfortable I tore them off the very second I got into the car. The restriction was just too much to bear any longer. Hot, itchy, binding, weird feeling, chafing.

Also, the name. Pantyhose. Ick.

Nope. I'm done.

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Friday, September 6, 2019

The Perks of Being 55


Last year I turned 55, the same number of the 1974 National Speed Limit Law*. I remember when that happened...it was crazy big news in 1974.

Anyway, I'm 55. As in Years Old.

Man, that's weird.

Inside, I often feel waaaay young. I think most of us feel this way, super young and vital and ingenue...until we walk past a large picture window... At the same time I feel 55. Totally 55. In fact, I think I've felt like I was 55 inside for most of my life.
Weird, huh?

I actually think I've felt 55 inside for decades, but I didn't know it until I turned 55. I've been a very responsible person for most of my life and I've been super-adulty since I was twelve years old, the year my parents split up. I mean, really, about the only reason a young person "acts adult" is because their adult person or people aren't doing their jobs. That was me.


And this is me.
I'm 55 and I love it.

It's so much more than AARP and senior discounts. 

  • I feel completely and authentically myself now.
    I feel so much more personally powerful than ever before.
  • I'm far more trusting of my instincts and ideas.
  • I'm healthier than I've been in years.
  • I get to be a grandmother.
  • I'm married to a gorgeous guy.
    (For 24 years now!)
  • I'm participating in volunteer work that I love.
  • I love my job.
  • I feel no need to apologize for ANYTHING I have chosen.
  • Or explain.
  • I'm better able to stand up for myself and for my needs.
  • I have confidence in my abilities.
  • I'm super, super completely happy.

I'm 55 and I love it.

* The National Speed Limit Law was repealed in 1995.

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Thursday, September 5, 2019

Marsha Linehan


Back in the 80s and 90s when I was practicing social work, things were SO different than they are now. I worked in many different places back in the day, but most of the jobs were in the mental health field. Back in those days I was mostly a student or a total newbie, always flying by the seat of my pants. I really had alot to learn.

I mean, don't we all.


But the great thing about those days is that I learned so much...totally in the trenches.

Time: Early 90s. One day I went to a random staff meeting and we were being introduced to a total new treatment model called DBT, Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, developed by a psychotherapist named Marsha Linehan. This treatment was focused on treating a particularly difficult type of problematic coping pattern style that is sometimes referred to as Borderline Personality Disorder. This disorder is one of pervasive and chaotic relational patterns (very unstable relationships of high intensity), dysregulation in emotion (very powerful, painful emotions that can feel out of control), and a distorted sense of self (I'm valuable beyond measure or I'm worthless, or both). Oh, and feeling suicidal. There's more to the disorder, but that's the gist.

Marsha Linehan developed this completely revolutionary treatment model for suicidality and borderline personality disorder; that amazes me because the mental health culture in those days, at least the culture that I knew of, was more shaming than helpful with this particular population. But we were confused and overwhelmed. That day in the early 1990s when I went to the staffing to learn about it, little did I know what a revolution I was being exposed to. I remember half of the room of clinicians scoffing at the so-called successful approach to treating this population and the other half of the room feeling excited about the new approach.

And then I moved away, took a job at a hospital, and proceeded to forget about DBT completely. But now I'm truly in awe of the wisdom and brilliance of Marsha Linehan and her treatment protocol called DBT.

Dr. Linehan spent the first part of her life being a client. And the majority of her adulthood being a student, doing research, and becoming an award-winning author, and, now, Professor Emeritus of Psychology in the Department of Psychology at the University of Washington and is Director Emeritus of the Behavioral Research and Therapy Clinics. And there is more to her, way more. She is truly brilliant.

Her DBT model is now considered the foremost, preeminent treatment for Borderline Personality Disorder and for some other disorders too. Now DBT is an evidence-based, structured approach to working with these clients who are so very challenged.


The more I learn and the more I read, the more I realize Marsha Linehan is a real hero.

In the 1990s, at that staffing, if you had told me I would be training to be swimming in the deep end of her pool, I would have never believed you. 
In 2019, I'm proud to be here.

Thank you, Dr. Linehan.

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Sunday, August 25, 2019

Weird and Honest: Death


When you lose someone in your life, in addition to entering into the so-called grief cycle, you also enter into a complete cover-up culture of your own thoughts and feelings. Let me explain what I mean, because, as usual, I have had to come to this awareness slowly... 

But first, please read the cautionary comment below.


 And please, be aware, this blog post might trigger you 
if you are in a place of grief...
yet it is a freeing post for me 
because I plan on being entirely transparent 
in my usual TMI, weird, awkward, honest way.


OK, let's first start with the so-called Grief Cycle. 
Look, I'm a huge fan of Kubler-Ross. I think she was brilliant. I've probably read far more K-R than most people have simply because of my field of study and because of my own interest. Her book On Death and Dying was a landmark book at the time because it, first, looked at an almost taboo subject, death, it also sought out to normalize what is, in fact, normal. I'm sure you have at least a passing knowledge of the stages of grief.

Her five stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance) are pretty universally accepted, though some offer criticism of these stages that the stages are not universal and, in fact, have no empirical evidence to support the theory. But most people, lay people and human behavior researchers alike, can acknowledge that the stages are very relatable. From the loss to death of a loved one, to one's own journey toward an expected death, to losses of all kinds, like moving from place to place, major breaks ups, loss of personal reputation, to loss of important objects, etc, the stages of loss tend to look pretty similar.

Other critics of K-R's Stages of Grief Theory simply suggest that the so-called stages are undefined and fluid and, therefore, not useful. The critics also remind us that the tasks of grief are never really behind us, as the concept of a stage might suggest, but remain ongoing in our lives for most loss. On other hand, their usefulness as predictive points of grief cannot be denied and have been a real comfort to me.


Before and After
Second, and I'll be brief here, the idea that the grieving process actually leads to a place, a place of new meaning, seems counter to my own experiences. Many losses really have no meaning. We each might have to move toward a new reality or understanding of ourselves in the world, but the idea that loss actually has intrinsic meaning...let's just say that I'm skeptical about this one.

Kudos to you if you have found new meaning. But please understand that that new meaning is not the purpose or the point of our loss; it is our own need to move forward into our continuing life without our lost person, object, or personal loss.  That idea of before and after a loss or major life-changing struggle. We do have to move forward, right?


So there's that, the fact that our grieving is never really over, never really past, never really apart from ourselves...but my next point is the real crux of this post, so beware. Be. Ware.



Ever since my parents' deaths, one of the thoughts that I have had in my head, in spite of trying very hard to push the thoughts away, is the propensity to imagine the actual physical stages of decomposition of my parents' bodies. In their metal, hot caskets. Under the ground. 

I know.
How can I actually say this one out loud?
I've given it alot ALOT of thought and I actually think that MOST people must have thoughts like this, but they do every single, solitary thing they can to push the thoughts out of their heads...I simply refuse to do that anymore. I acknowledge that I have obsessed about this because I've tried hard to push the thoughts out of my mind. I have looked on line for stages of decomposition of a body over time because I needed to know...for some reason.


Don't, DO NOT Google this subject unless you think you can handle the truth. The truth: the body decomposes in a very predictable, normal way. There are images of these stages of decomposition... No supernatural stuff. No fear. Nothing unnatural. Just the complete natural aspect of nature: non-living tissue breaks down into smaller and smaller particles until those particles disperse and become a part of the natural world around them.

And, actually, writing that just gave me sincere comfort because I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one. I'll bet more people experience these thoughts but are CERTAIN that they are weird or alone in this. When, in fact, why wouldn't we think of this? Right?

I'm sorry, I simply can't not say it and, as I was thinking about it again today, I decided to simply OUT myself as human. I'm sharing with you a thing that I've pushed out and pushed away and tried to eradicate from my thoughts for years now...with no success. The thoughts are still there and, this is key, I honestly think we all struggle with this part of our mortality. With the physical part of our own death which, of course, leads directly to decomposition.

But what a taboo thing to write, say, THINK.
It's dark but it's real.
And, here we are and I'm feeling a bit calmer now simply calling this out, simply writing the thing that has consumed so much energy to avoid thinking about...WOW. 



A glass thing
with ashes
And so, with this in mind, I've talked to my husband and kids and I've told them that I do not want to be buried. I don't want them to have these disturbing images in their heads as I have had...you know, the very real and predictable stages of decomposition. Sorry, you do know... Anyway, I told them that I wish to be cremated and to have my ashes either put into a cool glass thing or spread somewhere that means something to each person. It's their choice and they will have to live with it.

I THINK this will prevent each of them from having the potential gruesome thoughts that I, myself, have fought for so long...



What do you think?

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