Last month I had the privilege of turning 40 years old. Most of my friends also turned 40 this year, so together we have crossed over the invisible line into middle agedom. Although, all of my older friends asure me that 40 is really the new 30-blah, blah, blah. It all seems a thinly veiled ploy to convince new 40 somethings that we are not really aging.
However, as I sat on the floor with my 11 year old son this past weekend to play Monopoly, my aching back and knees proclaimed loudly and obnoxiously that I am definitely not 30! Another loud indication that I am no longer 30 occurred when my hairdresser called last night to remind me that I am due for an appointment to cover up my rapidly graying hair. I noticed in recent photos of myself that my once smooth and supple skin is now endowed with fine lines and subtle sags.
Yes, I am 40. There are some negatives to this aging process, no doubt. But, there are also some positives I have been discovering little by little. I am more confident and self-empowered than I was when I was 30. I will shamelessly argue with that 20 year old cosmetic girl who is trying to convince me that I would look good in flourescent, sparkly green eyeshadow! I will boldly make a nasty hand gesture at that 25 year old boy in his souped up mustang who thinks I'm not driving fast enough and dare him to hit me because I know I have better insurance than he does. Being 40also means that I can say "NO" to people about things I don't want to do and not have to feel guilty about it. I love that one!
You know what? I think I'm going to like my 40's. The benefits are looking pretty good. Being 40 may bring with it a lot of freedoms that I couldn't comprehend in my earlier years. I'm grieving the inevitable loss of my young face and body, but at least I'm rewarded with a deeper knowledge of who I am on the inside. So, Middle Age, bring it on, I think I'm ready.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
The bed you made...
Recently I was working with a client (I'll call him Jacob)who was in the process of divorce. It was a familiar scenario to many I've heard in the past and that's why I felt this would be a good story to share.
Jacob told me his love story and it's eventual demise. He and his wife had married young and had practically grown up together. They each came from broken homes and were very familiar with each other's family histories. He said he fell in love with her immediately and thought they'd grow old together - unlike the pattern in their original families. Jacob stressed how he never wanted to put his children through the pain of divorce that he had suffered, yet it was happening anyway.
Jacob admitted that he had made the typical mistakes of a young married man in that he spent too much time working to increase their wealth and not enough time paying attention to his wife on a personal level. He worked two jobs and renovated their fixer-upper home in his spare time. His new wife also worked full-time and attended school. He said he thought he was doing the right things in providing for them and trying to make their home a nicer place. They had all the nice toys a young couple could want. He admitted he never asked her what she needed from him, he just assumed all was well.
Thirteen years and three children later she told Jacob she was done with their marriage and there was nothing he could do to undo all she felt he had ruined. He claimed she listed one offense after another dating back to the beginning of the marriage. He stated, "I was flabbergasted because I couldn't even remember half of what she said I had said to her that hurt her feelings. I wish she had told me then and I would have fixed it." Apparently, one of the offenses was that he had told her she'd better never get fat. He admitted that he probably made that insensitive statement within the first two years of their marriage when he was young and stupid. He said he'd never say that now, but she holds it against him as if he just did.
The couple attended several couple's therapy sessions in the past year, but she conveyed to him in their last session together that there was no hope in saving the marriage no matter how hard he tried. It's true that he couldn't fix their marriage all by himself and it seemed obvious that she wasn't willing to take ownership for her own mistakes. At that point in our session, he teared up as he said to me that he never got a chance to say what he wanted to her. He wanted to tell her that he loved her more than anything and was willing to do anything to make her happy again. He wanted them to grow old together and be grandparents. It never got said because she made it clear on that day that she was already gone.
I have interviewed many elderly, married couples over the years who have stressed to me that the secret to their lasting relationship is forgiveness and fortitude. One couple said they live by the sage counsel handed down to them by their grandparents, "You made your bed and now you have to lie in it. It's your responsibility make it work for yourselves and for your families." I know this sounds rigid, but I have to agree with the exception of extenuating circumstances.
Truthfully, we all, men and women, make stupid mistakes within our relationships. We make insensitive and hurtful statements and act out our most selfish and bad behaviors with each other. The keys are to call each other out on it (in an adult manner), work diligently at adjusting our own behaviors, live in the present, let the past be the past, and encourage growth as individuals and as a couple.
Before considering divorce, ask yourself if there's really anything that can't be rectified or forgiven? Will the grass really be greener on the other side? Is the financial havoc worth it? If you have children, is it worth their emotional well-being?
The bed you made may be messy, but lie in it, even wrestle in it until you find the position that you fit.
Jacob told me his love story and it's eventual demise. He and his wife had married young and had practically grown up together. They each came from broken homes and were very familiar with each other's family histories. He said he fell in love with her immediately and thought they'd grow old together - unlike the pattern in their original families. Jacob stressed how he never wanted to put his children through the pain of divorce that he had suffered, yet it was happening anyway.
Jacob admitted that he had made the typical mistakes of a young married man in that he spent too much time working to increase their wealth and not enough time paying attention to his wife on a personal level. He worked two jobs and renovated their fixer-upper home in his spare time. His new wife also worked full-time and attended school. He said he thought he was doing the right things in providing for them and trying to make their home a nicer place. They had all the nice toys a young couple could want. He admitted he never asked her what she needed from him, he just assumed all was well.
Thirteen years and three children later she told Jacob she was done with their marriage and there was nothing he could do to undo all she felt he had ruined. He claimed she listed one offense after another dating back to the beginning of the marriage. He stated, "I was flabbergasted because I couldn't even remember half of what she said I had said to her that hurt her feelings. I wish she had told me then and I would have fixed it." Apparently, one of the offenses was that he had told her she'd better never get fat. He admitted that he probably made that insensitive statement within the first two years of their marriage when he was young and stupid. He said he'd never say that now, but she holds it against him as if he just did.
The couple attended several couple's therapy sessions in the past year, but she conveyed to him in their last session together that there was no hope in saving the marriage no matter how hard he tried. It's true that he couldn't fix their marriage all by himself and it seemed obvious that she wasn't willing to take ownership for her own mistakes. At that point in our session, he teared up as he said to me that he never got a chance to say what he wanted to her. He wanted to tell her that he loved her more than anything and was willing to do anything to make her happy again. He wanted them to grow old together and be grandparents. It never got said because she made it clear on that day that she was already gone.
I have interviewed many elderly, married couples over the years who have stressed to me that the secret to their lasting relationship is forgiveness and fortitude. One couple said they live by the sage counsel handed down to them by their grandparents, "You made your bed and now you have to lie in it. It's your responsibility make it work for yourselves and for your families." I know this sounds rigid, but I have to agree with the exception of extenuating circumstances.
Truthfully, we all, men and women, make stupid mistakes within our relationships. We make insensitive and hurtful statements and act out our most selfish and bad behaviors with each other. The keys are to call each other out on it (in an adult manner), work diligently at adjusting our own behaviors, live in the present, let the past be the past, and encourage growth as individuals and as a couple.
Before considering divorce, ask yourself if there's really anything that can't be rectified or forgiven? Will the grass really be greener on the other side? Is the financial havoc worth it? If you have children, is it worth their emotional well-being?
The bed you made may be messy, but lie in it, even wrestle in it until you find the position that you fit.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Traces of leaves
Over the Labor Day weekend, I was doing some Fall cleaning and tackled one of my closets in an effort to become better organized. I found a mound of old notebooks and memorabilia dating all the way back to my high school days. I sat on my floor for hours reading old newspaper articles that I had written for my high school paper, old college essays, class notes, etc. It was a surreal walk down memory lane. I'd forgotten how naive and idealistic I was back then.
For instance, I found an autobiographical obituary I'd written for one of my journalism classes and was surprised to find I had once thought that I would write 12 novels by the time I was 63 years old. I even had two titles picked out and one of the titles, Traces of Leaves, was going to win me a Pulitzer Prize. I'm a little behind!
My goal for this past weekend, however, was to de-clutter my life a bit and let go of unnecesary stuff. It was tough, but I tossed out 90 percent of all that clutter I'd been holding on to for twenty years or more. Afterwards, I felt a deep sense of relief to not let those material things take up space in my closet or my head. I realized I don't have to keep old school notes/tests to remind myself how smart I used to be. I'm still smart and, even better, I'm wiser. I don't have to win a Pulitzer prize to make an impact on the world. Every time I smile at a stranger, actively listen to a troubled client, help my son with his homework, I'm leaving traces of leaves on the world that last.
I encourage you to let go of the clutter, either in your mind or in your closet, and focus on what's important to today.
For instance, I found an autobiographical obituary I'd written for one of my journalism classes and was surprised to find I had once thought that I would write 12 novels by the time I was 63 years old. I even had two titles picked out and one of the titles, Traces of Leaves, was going to win me a Pulitzer Prize. I'm a little behind!
My goal for this past weekend, however, was to de-clutter my life a bit and let go of unnecesary stuff. It was tough, but I tossed out 90 percent of all that clutter I'd been holding on to for twenty years or more. Afterwards, I felt a deep sense of relief to not let those material things take up space in my closet or my head. I realized I don't have to keep old school notes/tests to remind myself how smart I used to be. I'm still smart and, even better, I'm wiser. I don't have to win a Pulitzer prize to make an impact on the world. Every time I smile at a stranger, actively listen to a troubled client, help my son with his homework, I'm leaving traces of leaves on the world that last.
I encourage you to let go of the clutter, either in your mind or in your closet, and focus on what's important to today.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Letting Go of Trauma
A colleague and I recently attended a seminar on rapid trauma recovery. I relish learning new methods of treatment and gaining new perspectives. The concept of this therapy is to help the client tell his/her story several times until it becomes just a story about the facts without attaching meaning to the facts anymore. Each time the client tells the story, the counselor encourages the client to be specific with the details and facts and refocuses him so that he doesn't get lost in the feelings of terror. The client is reminded over and over again that she's in a safe place now and that the traumatic event is in the past.
Most PTSD sufferers get stuck at the most terrible moments of the trauma and can't get past that section. The feelings then take over and cripple him and the cycle keeps repeating itself. Counselors can teach a patient to focus only on the specifics of the event while encouraging her along the way and reassuring her that she is safe. Thereby, creating successful desensitization and moving past the traumatizing moment.
Wouldn't it be nice to yank the power away from the event/offender and give it back to yourself? The traumatic event is in the past and should remain there. It only has power if we give it up. A traumatic event, as terrible as it might have been, doesn't define us unless we allow it to do so. It's so freeing to focus on today and all of the possibilities of today. It's completely useless and energy draining to let the past control every future moment. Why not let it go? What do you have to lose by smiling and having a good day? Nothing, really. Except the ball and chain of the past. Let it go and let it sink into the past where it belongs. Take a chance and decide now to have a good day!
Most PTSD sufferers get stuck at the most terrible moments of the trauma and can't get past that section. The feelings then take over and cripple him and the cycle keeps repeating itself. Counselors can teach a patient to focus only on the specifics of the event while encouraging her along the way and reassuring her that she is safe. Thereby, creating successful desensitization and moving past the traumatizing moment.
Wouldn't it be nice to yank the power away from the event/offender and give it back to yourself? The traumatic event is in the past and should remain there. It only has power if we give it up. A traumatic event, as terrible as it might have been, doesn't define us unless we allow it to do so. It's so freeing to focus on today and all of the possibilities of today. It's completely useless and energy draining to let the past control every future moment. Why not let it go? What do you have to lose by smiling and having a good day? Nothing, really. Except the ball and chain of the past. Let it go and let it sink into the past where it belongs. Take a chance and decide now to have a good day!
Friday, June 6, 2008
Naysayers, beware!
Last month my son was completing his fifth season of little league baseball. I admit to being a typical biased parent when I state that, in my eyes, my son is a talented baseball player. I attend every practice and every game with great enthusiasm. I also suffer the inevitable ups and downs of our teams progress throughout the season along with all of the other hopeful future MLB parents.
During one of the last games, my husband and I were faithfully planted in our lawn chairs stuffing our faces with hot dogs and cheese fries while intermittently shouting, "Go, Padres," in hopes of inspiring them to do something other than play with the dirt under their spiked shoes. Our team wasn't fairing so well as the score was 6 to 1 in the third inning with no outs. Our son plays short stop, first base and third base extremely well and occasionally has been called on to pitch at the end of a game when the main pitchers have met their pitch quotas. However, he has a tendency to crack under the pressure after two or three batters, so pitching has never seemed to be his forte even though he wants it to be so with all of his heart.
On this day, the coach decided to put my son in to pitch. My husband and I nearly choked on our cheese fries as we watched our son lope from short stop to the pitching mound and take the ball from his coaches hand. My husband stood up and said, "I can't watch this! The pressure is too much for me." He strolled over to one of the assistant coaches and said, "What is he doing?! Jack won't be able to handle this pressure!" The asst. coach gestured for my husband to settle down and said the coach knows what he's doing and it'll be alright.
Obviously, my husband and I were projecting our inability to handle the pressure of our son being under such scrutiny in,what seemed like at the time, such a harrowing situation. He was completely unaware of our doubt and if he had any self doubt, he overcame it successfully. Our son deftly proved us completely wrong by striking three batters out in a row! His team came back to score three runs and he continued to pitch like a pro over the next inning keeping his cool and the opposing team from running up their score. The Padres still lost by two runs, but they rallied spectacularly and my son was at the center of it.
I was so ashamed for doubting my son's ability and learned a valuable lesson about being a 'naysayer.' My husband's and my overreaction to our son being put on the mound came from our own of fear of failure as well as a natural, parental inclination to protect our son from public ridicule or failure. When we buy into our own fears and stand in the way of our children trying new things, especially when its not their 'forte,' we deny them the experience that can lead to success even if it's through failure. I pledge to do my very best not to engage in naysaying again. I may relapse occasionally, but I know the key is being aware of this human flaw which makes it more likely that I will recover from it more quickly.
My goal is to be a naysayer, no more!
During one of the last games, my husband and I were faithfully planted in our lawn chairs stuffing our faces with hot dogs and cheese fries while intermittently shouting, "Go, Padres," in hopes of inspiring them to do something other than play with the dirt under their spiked shoes. Our team wasn't fairing so well as the score was 6 to 1 in the third inning with no outs. Our son plays short stop, first base and third base extremely well and occasionally has been called on to pitch at the end of a game when the main pitchers have met their pitch quotas. However, he has a tendency to crack under the pressure after two or three batters, so pitching has never seemed to be his forte even though he wants it to be so with all of his heart.
On this day, the coach decided to put my son in to pitch. My husband and I nearly choked on our cheese fries as we watched our son lope from short stop to the pitching mound and take the ball from his coaches hand. My husband stood up and said, "I can't watch this! The pressure is too much for me." He strolled over to one of the assistant coaches and said, "What is he doing?! Jack won't be able to handle this pressure!" The asst. coach gestured for my husband to settle down and said the coach knows what he's doing and it'll be alright.
Obviously, my husband and I were projecting our inability to handle the pressure of our son being under such scrutiny in,what seemed like at the time, such a harrowing situation. He was completely unaware of our doubt and if he had any self doubt, he overcame it successfully. Our son deftly proved us completely wrong by striking three batters out in a row! His team came back to score three runs and he continued to pitch like a pro over the next inning keeping his cool and the opposing team from running up their score. The Padres still lost by two runs, but they rallied spectacularly and my son was at the center of it.
I was so ashamed for doubting my son's ability and learned a valuable lesson about being a 'naysayer.' My husband's and my overreaction to our son being put on the mound came from our own of fear of failure as well as a natural, parental inclination to protect our son from public ridicule or failure. When we buy into our own fears and stand in the way of our children trying new things, especially when its not their 'forte,' we deny them the experience that can lead to success even if it's through failure. I pledge to do my very best not to engage in naysaying again. I may relapse occasionally, but I know the key is being aware of this human flaw which makes it more likely that I will recover from it more quickly.
My goal is to be a naysayer, no more!
Friday, May 16, 2008
Meet the Author Day
Yesterday, I attended my son's school for a "Meet the Author" day. The kids in my son's class had each written a book and were sharing it for the first time with their parents. I admit that I was a bit frazzled and impatient when I arrived as I was in between clients and feeling a little put out in the middle of the day. Then, the look of joy that spread across my son's face at the surprise of seeing that I made it was enough to engender gladness despite the inconveniences for me.
His teacher began with clapping her hands and the children followed suit as they turned their attention to her. We parents just stood in bewilderment at her ability to control our children so efficiently. She gave us instructions about where to gather to share our children's stories and then pointed out the refreshment area (of which I was thrilled to see chocolate there)! I sat down at my son's desk and noticed the inside of it looked alarmingly similar to his messy bedroom. I felt the urge to start cleaning it out for him, but resisted and folded my arms over the desk so that I couldn't see the broken crayons hanging over the edge. He stood next to me and proudly opened a white book illustrated with a large, black spider. The story began with a man innocently purchasing a spider at a pet store and bringing it home to his two daughters. Obviously, no mother exists in this story. The spider grows inexplicably during the night and then devours the father. The girls get away, but are then charged with trying to save the town from the fate of their father. At the end, there are bloody, spider parts and human body parts being blown up and flying over the heads of the girls as they run for their lives. My heart couldn't take much more as my mind raced over all of the names of my therapist colleagues to determine who could see him the quickest. In my state of panic I almost missed it when he read the part called "About the Author" with his innocent looking picture above it. He explains to his readers that he and his father share a terrible fear of spiders and this book was a way of facing his fears! How amazing is that?!
He looked to me for approval and I smiled the smile of the proudest parent in the room. I also felt a pang of shame at nearly overreacting. His teacher approached us and asked me what I thought about his book. I told her I liked his attention to detail, his illustrations were very nice, and above all - it was scary. She winked at me and my son smiled as if he felt his job was done. I wondered if I had just gotten a glimpse of a mini Stephen King in the making. I grabbed several chocolate cookies from the refreshment table and determined I'm keeping that list of colleagues close at hand.
His teacher began with clapping her hands and the children followed suit as they turned their attention to her. We parents just stood in bewilderment at her ability to control our children so efficiently. She gave us instructions about where to gather to share our children's stories and then pointed out the refreshment area (of which I was thrilled to see chocolate there)! I sat down at my son's desk and noticed the inside of it looked alarmingly similar to his messy bedroom. I felt the urge to start cleaning it out for him, but resisted and folded my arms over the desk so that I couldn't see the broken crayons hanging over the edge. He stood next to me and proudly opened a white book illustrated with a large, black spider. The story began with a man innocently purchasing a spider at a pet store and bringing it home to his two daughters. Obviously, no mother exists in this story. The spider grows inexplicably during the night and then devours the father. The girls get away, but are then charged with trying to save the town from the fate of their father. At the end, there are bloody, spider parts and human body parts being blown up and flying over the heads of the girls as they run for their lives. My heart couldn't take much more as my mind raced over all of the names of my therapist colleagues to determine who could see him the quickest. In my state of panic I almost missed it when he read the part called "About the Author" with his innocent looking picture above it. He explains to his readers that he and his father share a terrible fear of spiders and this book was a way of facing his fears! How amazing is that?!
He looked to me for approval and I smiled the smile of the proudest parent in the room. I also felt a pang of shame at nearly overreacting. His teacher approached us and asked me what I thought about his book. I told her I liked his attention to detail, his illustrations were very nice, and above all - it was scary. She winked at me and my son smiled as if he felt his job was done. I wondered if I had just gotten a glimpse of a mini Stephen King in the making. I grabbed several chocolate cookies from the refreshment table and determined I'm keeping that list of colleagues close at hand.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
A Man Named Blue & A Dog Named Cashew
My husband has decided that he wants to be called Blue and he is asserting that he has a dog named Cashew that doesn't actually exist. Yes, I know, this sounds a lot like an identity problem and possibly a psychotic break. However, I think it's more about crossing into his forty's (i.e., midlife crisis), a bit of boredom, and even more about getting under my skin.
My son, husband, and I took a mini-vacation over spring break to visit the Kennedy Space Center. At the end of a long, educational, and fun-filled day, we stumbled upon a wonderful restaurant in Cocoa Beach for dinner. My husband grunted as he considered the specials on the menu and then, with a gleam in his eye and a bit of spittle at the corner of his mouth, he proceeded to describe to me the prime rib special topped with blue cheese and butter sauce that he intended to order. The redneck drawl he affected indicated to me that "Blue" was in the house. Over the past month, my husband has adapted this alter ego he affectionately calls Blue. He insists that if I were to call him by this new nickname that the power of suggestion would cause everyone to do the same. He has always wanted to be a quirky, mysterious character who derives wonder and awe from the ordinary people in the world. Now he has a name for this character.
Our conversation about Blue gorging himself on the fattiest meat of the cow sparked a new conversation about the differences between delusional disorder and schizophrenia. As I tried to explain the difference between the two disorders, I realized how similar and confusing these illnesses can look, even to a counselor. Criteria for schizophrenia includes "bizarre" delusions, like aliens living in the closet and performing surgery on you every night. Whereas, delusional disorder is characterized by nonbizarre delusions, such as having a dog no one else has seen. Just because no one has ever seen the dog doesn't mean it doesn't exist somewhere. My husband has been insisting to myself and our son that we have an invisible dog named Cashew. Now, we do have a real dog named Peanut who considers me the Alpha dog in the family. Therein lies the rub. My husband doesn't like not being the Alpha dog, so he has invented Cashew the dog to be Alpha dog to. He asserts that if he suggests enough to us that we have a "Cashew," then I will accept it as true, get a real puppy he can name Cashew, and Cashew will, by default, choose my husband as Alpha dog and overthrow my reign!
As bizarre as this all seems, this actually is a mini power struggle between myself and my husband, also known to himself as Blue. So, my womanly wiles and psychological training thrust into overdrive. I smiled prettily, as he stabbed his bloody, blue cheese covered cow, and assured him that he is the Alpha male of my heart as well as this whole family. And, as the grease dribbled down his chin, I added, "Honey, I think we should increase the life insurance policy on you, Blue and your dog named Cashew."
My son, husband, and I took a mini-vacation over spring break to visit the Kennedy Space Center. At the end of a long, educational, and fun-filled day, we stumbled upon a wonderful restaurant in Cocoa Beach for dinner. My husband grunted as he considered the specials on the menu and then, with a gleam in his eye and a bit of spittle at the corner of his mouth, he proceeded to describe to me the prime rib special topped with blue cheese and butter sauce that he intended to order. The redneck drawl he affected indicated to me that "Blue" was in the house. Over the past month, my husband has adapted this alter ego he affectionately calls Blue. He insists that if I were to call him by this new nickname that the power of suggestion would cause everyone to do the same. He has always wanted to be a quirky, mysterious character who derives wonder and awe from the ordinary people in the world. Now he has a name for this character.
Our conversation about Blue gorging himself on the fattiest meat of the cow sparked a new conversation about the differences between delusional disorder and schizophrenia. As I tried to explain the difference between the two disorders, I realized how similar and confusing these illnesses can look, even to a counselor. Criteria for schizophrenia includes "bizarre" delusions, like aliens living in the closet and performing surgery on you every night. Whereas, delusional disorder is characterized by nonbizarre delusions, such as having a dog no one else has seen. Just because no one has ever seen the dog doesn't mean it doesn't exist somewhere. My husband has been insisting to myself and our son that we have an invisible dog named Cashew. Now, we do have a real dog named Peanut who considers me the Alpha dog in the family. Therein lies the rub. My husband doesn't like not being the Alpha dog, so he has invented Cashew the dog to be Alpha dog to. He asserts that if he suggests enough to us that we have a "Cashew," then I will accept it as true, get a real puppy he can name Cashew, and Cashew will, by default, choose my husband as Alpha dog and overthrow my reign!
As bizarre as this all seems, this actually is a mini power struggle between myself and my husband, also known to himself as Blue. So, my womanly wiles and psychological training thrust into overdrive. I smiled prettily, as he stabbed his bloody, blue cheese covered cow, and assured him that he is the Alpha male of my heart as well as this whole family. And, as the grease dribbled down his chin, I added, "Honey, I think we should increase the life insurance policy on you, Blue and your dog named Cashew."
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Acts of Kindness
Most counselors will agree that the married couples we see on average usually seek counseling for the same reasons albeit the details of the circumstances may differ slightly. Some of those reasons tend to be feelings of betrayal, disconnectedness, boredom, and loneliness.
When we originally were attracted to our mates, we were attentive, open, caring, giving, and thoughtful of their needs. We went out of our way to make sure our significant other knew we loved them as often as possible. But, then marriage comes and babies and life. Now we are more focused on the children, work, the household, bills, plumbing problems,etc. When was the last time you said "I love you" out of the blue or gave a funny greeting card just because? I bet it's been a long time.
Think about how you treat your friends? You call your best friend on the phone daily to just say "hi." But, you call your spouse only when you need an errand run for you. When friends come over to visit, you hide all the clutter in the closet and make a special dinner just for them. Your spouse comes home and you get mad because he/she wasn't there all day to help clean up and then he/she expects dinner. How backwards is this?
Familiarity breeds contempt doesn't it? Think about how nice we are to our friends and even strangers, but how thoughtless and mean we can be to our own spouses. What if we used some of that kindness on our spouses instead? What if we could remember to treat our spouses like they were friends instead of the enemy? Isn't that what we strive for in life, to pick a life long mate who we can sit on the front porch with and share our most sacred thoughts, past regrets, future hopes and dreams?
Mutual respect and friendship are the most valuable benefits of marriage. Yet, we destroy them and then wonder why our sex life has diminished and loneliness and despair prevails. Repairing a relationship isn't as hard as we make it out to be. Little acts of kindness go a long way in building the love connection we all crave.
When we originally were attracted to our mates, we were attentive, open, caring, giving, and thoughtful of their needs. We went out of our way to make sure our significant other knew we loved them as often as possible. But, then marriage comes and babies and life. Now we are more focused on the children, work, the household, bills, plumbing problems,etc. When was the last time you said "I love you" out of the blue or gave a funny greeting card just because? I bet it's been a long time.
Think about how you treat your friends? You call your best friend on the phone daily to just say "hi." But, you call your spouse only when you need an errand run for you. When friends come over to visit, you hide all the clutter in the closet and make a special dinner just for them. Your spouse comes home and you get mad because he/she wasn't there all day to help clean up and then he/she expects dinner. How backwards is this?
Familiarity breeds contempt doesn't it? Think about how nice we are to our friends and even strangers, but how thoughtless and mean we can be to our own spouses. What if we used some of that kindness on our spouses instead? What if we could remember to treat our spouses like they were friends instead of the enemy? Isn't that what we strive for in life, to pick a life long mate who we can sit on the front porch with and share our most sacred thoughts, past regrets, future hopes and dreams?
Mutual respect and friendship are the most valuable benefits of marriage. Yet, we destroy them and then wonder why our sex life has diminished and loneliness and despair prevails. Repairing a relationship isn't as hard as we make it out to be. Little acts of kindness go a long way in building the love connection we all crave.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
The Wisdom of the Rooms - Book Review
I just read a new book,The Wisdom of the Rooms, by Michael Z. It's a wonderful book of weekly reflections with inspiring messages that can apply to anyone and everyone whether you have an addiction problem or not.
One of my favorite quotes from this book is "there are no victims, only volunteers - you always have a choice." How many of us have become victims in our lives at one time or another and voluntarily give up our power to a harmful vice, situation, or another person? Michael Z's words help us to hold the mirror up and face the truth so that we know it's in our power to choose differently.
Another favorite quote is "my mind is like a bad neighborhood - I don't go in it alone." This made me laugh out loud because there are days when I'm obsessed with my own disturbing thoughts and it would be better for me to get out of my own head, or take a muscle bound friend in with me to beat down the monsters!
So, I'm recommending this as a MUST READ! It's simple, yet chock full of wisdom in every room. Also, check out his website at www.theWisdomoftheRooms.com for more of his weekly quotes.
One of my favorite quotes from this book is "there are no victims, only volunteers - you always have a choice." How many of us have become victims in our lives at one time or another and voluntarily give up our power to a harmful vice, situation, or another person? Michael Z's words help us to hold the mirror up and face the truth so that we know it's in our power to choose differently.
Another favorite quote is "my mind is like a bad neighborhood - I don't go in it alone." This made me laugh out loud because there are days when I'm obsessed with my own disturbing thoughts and it would be better for me to get out of my own head, or take a muscle bound friend in with me to beat down the monsters!
So, I'm recommending this as a MUST READ! It's simple, yet chock full of wisdom in every room. Also, check out his website at www.theWisdomoftheRooms.com for more of his weekly quotes.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Nature vs. Nurture?
For several years I have been interested in criminal psychology and have pondered whether people are born "bad" or created by their environment. One of my guilty pleasures is reading psychological thrillers and one of my favorite authors of that genre is Jonathan Kellerman. However, lately I have been even more intrigued with the idea of nature vs. nurture. I've been reading "Evil Genes" by Barbara Oakley as well as another book about the personality similarites of several infamous serial killers. Both authors discuss the possibilities how "bad" people become the way that they are and the impact on society.
I have to admit that I am wondering why I'm so fascinated with this subject. But, I think that it boils down to wanting to understand the workings of the human mind and determining how much control, if any, we truly have over our emotions, personalities, reactions, good/bad behaviors, etc. It seems that we like to believe that we are such unique individuals in control of who we are and what we do; and, yet also like to attribute so much of our makeup to Aunt Jean or Great-Granpa Albert. How is it that most of us are driven to be good people and have such loud consciences that we can't possibly ignore? Yet, there are also those people in the world who couldn't care less about harming others and go out of their way to do so. Are we born with this or did we learn it from Uncle Pete?
The evidence seems to be some combination of the two, nature vs nurture, that make us who we are. Some people seem to be genetically pre-disposed to rage, poor judgment, and limited conscience. Add to that a dysfunctional family environment and a time bomb is created amongst us. The challenge is how do we recognize them before they wreak havoc on our society.
I have to admit that I am wondering why I'm so fascinated with this subject. But, I think that it boils down to wanting to understand the workings of the human mind and determining how much control, if any, we truly have over our emotions, personalities, reactions, good/bad behaviors, etc. It seems that we like to believe that we are such unique individuals in control of who we are and what we do; and, yet also like to attribute so much of our makeup to Aunt Jean or Great-Granpa Albert. How is it that most of us are driven to be good people and have such loud consciences that we can't possibly ignore? Yet, there are also those people in the world who couldn't care less about harming others and go out of their way to do so. Are we born with this or did we learn it from Uncle Pete?
The evidence seems to be some combination of the two, nature vs nurture, that make us who we are. Some people seem to be genetically pre-disposed to rage, poor judgment, and limited conscience. Add to that a dysfunctional family environment and a time bomb is created amongst us. The challenge is how do we recognize them before they wreak havoc on our society.
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