Archives for posts with tag: mindfulness

Something’s wrong

August 19, 2014 //

It has happened so many times over the years that I don’t have a particular patient in mind as I write this. My first contact with a family is usually the mother of a patient. We usually talk on the phone for anywhere between 15-45 minutes so that she can get information from me and a sense of whether I am competent. And I get information about whether the referral is appropriate for me as well as a head start on honing the focus of my assessment. Mom usually tells me a list of concerns about her child. Things that don’t seem right. Things that seem harder than they should be. I am a child and adolescent clinical psychologist. Parents don’t want to meet with me if they think there is nothing wrong.

However, parents often tell their children, in front of me, “There’s nothing wrong with you.” It is meant to be a reassuring statement. It is not, even when it is said in all sincerity. (“There’s nothing wrong with you. The problem is that your school does not know how to teach you.”)

When a parent says this, it is damned confusing to a child or a teen. I mean little kids have fun when they come to my office. I play with them and mix in silly questions like, “If you had three empty swimming pools and could fill each with a different food or drink, what would you put in each one?” I also ask about things they would change about themselves if they could, questions about painful feelings, and other more heavy questions. Interviews with young children are not so much about questions and answers as how they interact with me and whether I can get a flavor for their personality and general cognitive level.

The other kids know. They know that they are struggling in school. They know that they are not getting invited to birthday parties. They know that they are getting yelled at by their parents. They know that their grades are bad. The older ones know which teachers actively dislike them.

This way of communicating sends the message that to have something wrong with oneself is too bad to speak of and must be avoided. It is a layer of non-acceptance that can make happiness very difficult. The confusion of being told that “nothing is wrong” when it is patently obvious plants the seeds of externalizing blame and/or internalizing shame, neither state being compatible with taking responsibility for one’s own life. Is it so bad to say something like, “Everyone has things they are good at and things they have to work on. You have a hard time making good choices sometimes. We will help you with this.”

This is part of the reason that the message I saw on Facebook the other day, “There’s nothing wrong with you” got me fired up. It is a seed that can grow into much unhappiness. I see so many wonderful people in my professional and personal life who struggle with perfectionism, never being satisfied that they are worthwhile and good people. I see very successful and outwardly happy people who I can tell, due to my own empathetic skills and life experience, seem like they are faking it. Pain has a way of bubbling to the surface, even when well hidden.

My own perfectionism, which has waned over the years, seems so unnecessary now. The part that remains is fairly stubborn but I will keep working on it. I know that parenting cannot stem the tide of the influence of our culture. But parenting matters and it matters a lot.

I try not to be preachy in my blog because I have tried to focus on my own personal experience. That tone is the most healthy for me. I was kind of preachy yesterday. But that’s okay. You can handle me being fired up every once in awhile. I also did not want to make my blog into a “psychologist’s blog” including advice. But today, I would like to share what I think is the very most important way to teach our children self-acceptance.

Work on your own self-acceptance. I have decided that not only am I not perfect but that perfection is a goal that is unworthy of me or of my family.

I deserve better. And so do you.

Tags mindfulness, Parenting, self-acceptance

Categories Mindfulness, Parenting

Nothing wrong

August 17, 2014 //

I had an entirely different idea for a post today. Then as I was closing Facebook in order to write it, I saw another one of those inspirational quotes that has come to make my skin crawl. There were examples of how potentially negative attributes have positive implications, as well. The ending of the quote was, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Why do so many feel it necessary to say this? I believe it is very unhealthy.

Everyone and I mean everyone has faults. Lots of personality qualities have both positive and negative implications. The positive implications don’t erase the negative or vice versa.

Why do we need to convince ourselves that we are somehow perfect?

We aren’t. It’s a lie. It’s an utter and outright lie.

The problem is not being imperfect. The problem is not accepting that we are still good and worthwhile despite imperfections.

There are lots of things wrong with me. There are mostly things right with me.

There are ugly things about me. There are mostly beautiful things about me, and I’m not talking about pretty.

There are dishonest things about me. I am mostly honest.

There are selfish things about me. I am mostly fair and generous.

If I have to tell myself that I am perfect to feel better about myself, how will I ever look at myself honestly, trust myself, value myself, and grow as a person?

Finally, let me put it this way. I am a clinical psychologist. My job is to help children and teens be happier and healthier. I know of no effective treatment that involves my telling my patients lies or teaching them to lie to themselves.

Honesty is the best policy and a keystone of self-acceptance.

Tags emotional honesty, imperfection, mindfulness, self-awareness, self-worth

Categories Mindfulness

Learning my ABCD’s

August 11, 2014 //

There’s a famous developmental model in clinical psychology developed by Drs. Mark Greenberg and Carol Kusche. It is rooted in the larger cognitive behavioral model. The model is called, “ABCD”. It refers to Affect (emotion), Behavior, Cognition, and the Dynamic interplay among them. Because it is a developmental model, it refers to this interplay not only in a particular moment, but across time.

Sometimes AB and C work together in cohesion. Often they work at odds with one another. Sometimes they work in cohesion but in a way that is not healthy. “I am angry with you and I’m beating the shit out of you because I believe I am entitled to beat the shit out of anyone I don’t like for any reason.”
I know that many of us strive to live more peaceful, loving, and cohesive lives. And for extra credit, we are decent and upstanding people. I have worked hard over the years to live a life that is cohesive and healthy. I have focused on this in particular in my mindfulness practices in the last couple of years.

I am pretty happy. In general, I live a pretty balanced and cohesive life that makes sense. To be perfectly honest, I sometimes watch people I love say they want to be a certain kind of person, living by certain values, and then make choices that totally contradict their stated goals without apparent knowledge of this discrepancy. I have tried to make a habit of turning inward at these times. I am getting better at it. Bit by bit.

I decided a few weeks ago to dig deeply into the parts of myself that I try to avoid. To be honest, it is a narrow part of me but it runs very deeply, and when I hit it, it is very painful.

I know I am a good person who does mostly very good things. But there are areas in which I fail. Areas in which I let fears, irrational thoughts, and habits drive behaviors that are very much out of line with my values.

I lose my temper with my husband. I respond to situations as if they are much bigger than they really are. Sometimes, I let other people’s unhealthy behavior toward me define my own sense of worth. At times, I take on a love one’s hurt not only as if it were my own but as if it were my responsibility to fix. Sometimes these misfires of affect, behavior, cognition, and their dynamic interplay are brief. Other times, they play out over the years, like increasingly gnarled tree roots underground. I can feel them. I know they are there but I can’t see them.

I know I am not alone in this. No one is perfect. But I’m tired of feeling happy and balanced so much of the time only to find myself acting grouchy, ridiculous, and sometimes outright mean, when I pass my stress tolerance. I used to live my life very near or at capacity so I stressed very easily. It’s not so easy now so I figure this is a particularly good time to work on this.

There is a concept of “radical acceptance” in mindfulness meditation. In my understanding, it means observing our own painful thoughts and feelings and allowing them to be, instead of resisting them.

This is why my blog sometimes reads like a confessional. I am, however, not seeking reassurance or absolution. I am trying to better understand myself and be a more balanced person.

I am also trying to show that it is possible to be a happy person without being a perfect person. Over the past year, I have begun to view a lot of coping statements people use as being counterproductive for me. I don’t like telling myself “beauty is only skin deep” or “fat is beautiful” when I am not feeling good about my body. Similarly, in terms of aging, I don’t want to tell myself, “I’m only as old as I feel” or “age is only a number.” I would like to keep working to a point where I say things to myself like, “I am overweight. That may not be the greatest for my health. What do I want to do?” Or, “I am getting older. I’ve had a serious illness. I’m living a pretty healthy life now, doing the best that I can. I think I will get on with my day.”

I am working to get to a point where self-examination is objective and leads to serenity or agency. I am getting there but I still have much further to go. I am trying to take apart the mechanism, bit by bit, that turns self-examination into doubts of worth.

I used to think that having a balanced life meant almost never feeling stress and shuffling through the states of joy, bliss, serenity, faith, hope, and resolve. I actually had a friend years ago who practiced mindfulness, who seemed this way. Then there was the day I tried to say something empathetic about her stress level because we were all working hard. She quickly and somewhat sharply told me that she “never” got stressed. Then I knew. She was one of the rest of us.

People are complicated. Life is complicated. We spend our whole lives at A, B, C, & D. And thank goodness. I want to live a long life and how boring would it be to have it all figured out.

Tags ABCD model in clinical psychology, mindfulness, radical acceptance, self-examination

Categories Breast cancer, Family, Marriage, Mindfulness

Infractions

August 10, 2014 //

I am generally a patient and polite person. There are a few situations, however, that can get me fired up in a hurry. One of them is when people don’t take “no” for an answer. If you call me at home and are trying to sell me something, I will say “No, thank you.” If you keep talking, I will say, “Please put me on your do not call list” and hang up.

If you are the outreach director for a private tutoring and one-on-one school, who calls me repeatedly to set up a meeting even though I have told you I cannot do so, due to cancer treatment, I will be irritated with you and tell you that your calls aren’t welcome and to please stop. Guess what happened today? The same woman showed up to my office, uninvited. Do you know how many uninvited visitors I get in my little office with it’s discrete location? About one per year. I told her, “No, I am not able to meet with you. I know about your school. I asked you not to contact me.” She replied, “But I thought that you just didn’t want me to CALL you.”

“Coming to my office uninvited is even more intrusive than calling. Please don’t contact me again.” She apologized and left.

Keep in mind that I ordinarily accept meetings with people from private schools and tutoring businesses. But this woman happened to call when I was going through intensive cancer treatment. I told her that, also told her that I would contact her in the future if I wanted to meet. But she kept calling and today, she showed up on my doorstep. I have actually referred families to this school and I will likely continue to do so because the person who does marketing is not the same as the people who provide the educational services.

Honestly, I feel mean when I set limits like this. But I also feel justified in being firm and direct. These hard sell tactics rely on people’s inclination toward politeness and needing to be seen as “nice”. The strategy is one that takes advantage of most people’s positive nature. I know the people who are not taking my “no” for an answer are probably not thinking of it that way. But the strategy itself is extremely disrespectful.

Hmm, is it really “extremely disrespectful”? It is disrespectful for sure. But the fact that my heart rate is still slightly elevated and I still feel residual anger about this intrusion tells me that it is time for me to explore why this situation set me off so.

I am by nature, a generous and helpful person. My parents are also generous people. But I also remember growing up, thinking that they had trouble saying “no” when asked for a favor. (It doesn’t seem this way so much now, so I wonder if I remember correctly.) It was like it was bad to even ask because my parents would say “yes” unless it was a telemarketer. (When vacuum cleaner salesmen called, my mom would always say, “I have dirt floors.” Ha!)

When I am asked for something, my initial inclination is to give it. But I have learned over the years that this is not always a good idea and in some situations, it is downright unhealthy. I can take time and energy away from my family, friends, patients, and from myself. I have also learned that there are people in life who will ask over and over again, giving nothing in return. And then there are the people who don’t even ask, they just take.

When I say “no”, I have already gotten myself to do something that I am not typically inclined to do. When the “no” goes unheeded, I feel unheard. Oh dear, there’s a trigger. I hate it when I don’t think people are listening to me. When I am unheard, I start repeating myself, I get stern, I may interrupt. I don’t feel generous. I feel in need of protection. The word that keeps popping into my head but I haven’t yet written it down because it feels too strong is “violated”. I feel violated. Do I feel helpless? No, I don’t but I feel very very wronged and that I may lose something of myself, the years to building up assertiveness and confidence, if I back down.

I often used my writing on this blog as a way to figure out a puzzle. I think I have gained insight in writing this but really, I am only scratching the surface and there is much to be uncovered. I think that this triggering experience comes from some kind of combination of my personality, my experiences as an individual, and my experiences as a woman. I’m not really sure and I will never really know. I do know that my tendency toward strong reaction negatively impacts my relationship with my daughter and with my husband. With my professional life, I am able to regain external composure even if feel internal strain.

I will keep working on this.

Note: I actually wrote this post several days ago and didn’t publish it because it felt unsettled. I am currently exploring the situations that are most triggering for me, “buttons” that when pushed, elicit an irrational response. I am trying to shrink these buttons. As I say, I will keep working on this, as unfinished and unpolished as it is. But it is as it is.

Tags emotion management, emotional triggers, interpersonal boundaries, mindfulness, self-assertion

Categories Feelings, Marriage, Mindfulness, Parenting

Twinge

August 8, 2014 //

About five minutes ago, I was trying to remember why this date is important. “Is today someone’s birthday?” I looked at the calendar. August 8th. The memory came to me accompanied by a small visceral twinge. Two years ago today, I had a right side mastectomy. Last year, the date took me by surprise, too. But when I remembered, I sobbed uncontrollably, on and off, for three days.

The sensation in my pectoral muscles has returned somewhat. I can feel pressure beneath my reconstructed breast. My kittens reminded me of this yesterday when they were chasing each other around the house, tearing through the living room. They both used me as part of their race track and kept running across my chest.

My abdomen is still numb, though this continues to dissipate. The plastic surgery nurse, who had the same reconstructive surgery as me, a TRAM, told me that the numbness lasted about three years for her. I also noticed that although my body doesn’t feel the same way it did before, it feels like mine.

I’ve noticed other physical changes. Last night, my husband went out for a late dinner and a walk along Alki Point, a beautiful seaside area. Along the walk, we were able to see the downtown skyline, the water, and two mountain ranges. We walked about two miles to a restaurant on the other side of the point, ate on a balcony overlooking the Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains, and then we walked back two miles to where our car was parked. John had to pick up our daughter from band practice, so we were in a bit of a hurry walking back.

As usual, I had my camera with me and as usual, there were interesting photo opportunities along the way. We agreed that John would just keep walking, at his normal pace and I would stop to take photos whenever I wanted as long as I could run and catch up with him. That way, he wouldn’t be late. I have a long hate-hate relationship with running. Actually, it is just strong dislike. But I thought I could probably do it.

There was one spot that was particularly photogenic, so I took several shots. Then I needed to run to catch up with my long-legged man. It took me awhile to catch up. When I did, I noted to John, “Hey, I’m not breathing hard.” After complimenting me, he said, “What’s it been, about five years since you’ve run that far?” I laughed. “John, it’s been about twenty years since I ran that far!”

Breast cancer is awful, there’s no doubt. Cancer is powerful and destructive. It is nice, however, that healing and resilience are also powerful.

The “flower houses” at Alki Beach.

Our view at dinner. Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains.

Seattle skyline across Elliot Bay.

Tags Breast Cancer, exercise, Mastectomy, mindfulness, physical recovery from breast cancer

Categories Breast cancer, Mindfulness

Participant

August 6, 2014 //

As you know, I love photography. I mostly take nature photography, but I also take photos of people. My people shots are usually informal but occasionally I try to take a good portrait. I have come to view the goals of nature and portrait photography differently. In portrait photography, the goal is usually to capture a human image that looks better than a person usually looks in day to day life. If you think about it, people have ever changing appearance due to our changing mode of dress, use of make-up, but even more importantly, we have muscles and our bodies, especially our facial features are in motion. When I’ve had my portrait done professionally, the photographer puts effort into getting me to hold my body in a particular way, tilt me head just so, look at the camera, and usually, to smile. Backdrops and lighting are used.

I think the goal of nature photography is to capture the subject as it ACTUALLY LOOKS. I have taken so many photos only to think, “That looked so much better in real life. Because I try to capture natural subjects as they actually look, I don’t typically rearrange the environment to make a better photo. Occasionally, I use a flash and on the rare occasion, I might move a twig out the way that’s blocking the shot. When I move a twig out the way, I actually feel like I’m cheating, I try to remove myself from the photo except for choosing what part of what is actually there is going to fill the frame.

In this way, I think of taking portraits as requiring being more of a participant in the photo and of taking natural shots as being more of an observer, standing back so as not to mar any of the natural beauty before me.

A common way that I try to take myself out of my flower photos is when my body casts a shadow on the flower. I will move to take the shot from another angle or occasionally, I duck my body down, keeping my arm raised and snap. The latter approach doesn’t work particularly well but if I can’t take the shot otherwise, I often give it a try.

A few days ago, I was taking close-ups of roses, something I love to do. Roses are not just beautiful from a distance. They are mesmerizing up close. The texture of the petals, some creamy, some satiny, some velvety. And their multi-petal form creates interesting light and shadow and well as patterns within their overall forms. It was mid-day and the sun was overhead. I leaned over to snap a photo and I saw my shadow. I was about to make some attempt to remove my shadow when I realized, looking down through the view screen on my camera that my shadow actually added interest to the rose. It looked like it belonged and it actually enhanced the beauty of the bloom by showing contrast of light and shadow.

I often write in this blog about how much healthier I am when I feel connected to nature. Every time, it fills me up a little more. Over time, I am more frequently able to carry a feeling of joyful serenity for a little longer.

Mindfulness sneaks up on me with gentle waves that ebb and flow but still manage to build a reservoir.

Tags mindfulness, nature photography, photography

Categories Flora and Fauna, Mindfulness

Hello, my old familiar

August 2, 2014 //

In the early 90’s, John and I drove to rural Pennsylvania from North Carolina. His research adviser, a computer science professor at UNC-Chapel Hill, was throwing a 50th birthday party for his wife, who was an English Professor at Syracuse University in New York. They owned a Mennonite farmhouse from when they were both professors at Penn State University. He had a pilot’s license and a small plane. This was the house he flew to when he and his wife spent time together.

The distance between North Carolina and Pennsylvania is sizable. We were newly married and both in graduate school. We didn’t have a lot of money and hence, no form of reliable transportation. But we wanted to go to the party. So we rented a car, packed our bags, and drove north.

The drive was really quite beautiful especially through Appalachia. If you have never been through the eastern U.S., the Appalachian Mountains are beautiful and old. Because they are old, they are worn. They are not snow-capped. I’ve always thought of them as lovely broccoli-green hills speckled with charming farm houses and old grain mills. Ah, there are also the fireflies that light up the hillside.

It was so beautiful. Ahhhhhhhhh. The drive was so relaxing, so breath taking… And then I took a look at the gas gauge. “Hey, John, you’re down to a quarter of a tank.”

“That’s plenty of gas”, he replied.

“John! We are out in the middle of nowhere!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I relaxed and as I get ever so slightly car sick, I fell asleep. I awoke to John frantically saying, “There’s something wrong with the car! We’ve lost power.”

“John. We. Ran. Out. of. Gas.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“OH-MY-GOD! I-TOLD-YOU-THAT-YOU-WERE-LOW-ON-GAS-YOU-BLEW-ME-OFF-AND-NOW-YOU-BLAME-ME-I-CAN’T-BELIEVE-YOU-WHY-IS-EVERYTHING-MY-FAULT-AND-YOU-CAN’T-TAKE-RESPONSIBILITY-FOR-ANYTHING!”

This was before cell phone days and we really were out in the middle of nowhere. We hitched a ride to the nearest gas station (‘OH-MY-GOD-YOU-MADE-US-HITCH-HIKE!!!!”), bought gas and hitched a ride back to the car. Then we drove to a gas station. I would say that we went upon our merry way. I mean, we actually had a wonderful time on that trip, in the end.

But in the mean time, we had what has become an age-old argument between the two of us:

Me: “There’s a problem coming; here’s what you need to do.”

J: “There’s no problem. Stop worrying about it.”

Me: “See? There was a problem. You don’t listen to me!!!!”

J: “I could have handled it. You are treating me like a child. Also, whatever problem MIGHT occurred is your fault, anyway.”

Me: “Don’t you remember that time I TOLD YOU that we were running out of gas”…

There are many versions of his argument. Since it’s my blog, I started out with an example of a time when John truly did blow me off and then blamed me for the outcome.

Oh, I so dislike it when he does that! It is so frustrating and then the “and it’s your fault” part really hurts.

But there are other versions of this fight, ones that I am not as likely to remember.

E: “I am feeling anxious. Anything could be a problem right now. Hey look, there’s a problem. DON’T YOU SEE THE PROBLEM! HEY, YOU NEED TO RESPOND TO ME. THERE’S A PROBLEM!!!! SEE THE PROBLEM!!!! HEAR THE PROBLEM!!!!”

J: (Actually trying to get his wife to CALM THE HELL DOWN): “There’s no problem. Don’t worry about it. I will handle all of this.”

E: “BUT YOU’RE NOT LISTENING TO ME!!! HOW CAN YOU UNDERSTAND THE PROBLEM IF YOU CAN’T HEAR ME!!! YOU’RE NOT PAYING ATTENTION!!!! REMEMBER THAT TIME WHEN I TOLD YOU THAT WE WERE RUNNING OUT OF GAS IN PENNSYLVANIA?”

And then it ends up that the problem didn’t occur.

E: (Thinking to herself) “Wow, good thing I went ape shit there. Otherwise, WE WOULD HAVE HAD THAT PROBLEM I KNEW WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.”

Those are two versions. In one version, John is not at his best. In the other, I am not at my best. Of course, there are many other versions of this conversation. But they are not as memorable because they are healthy and functional.

Most of our communication is healthy and functional. And what I mean by most, is the vast majority. But we do get stuck on those two examples, the first of John’s under-responsiveness and the second of my insistent and anxious problem solving.

I have no tidy answers for this communication problem. I am describing it as part of my mindfulness practice in hopes of continuing to chip away at the way these conversations trigger strong emotional reactions from each of us.

I do know that we have had versions of these arguments hundreds of times in our 27 years together. I have learned in studying marriage and marital therapy that there are perpetual arguments that even happy couples have. There is a difference in how these perpetual arguments are handled, however, John and I are working hard.

If I keep working hard, I know that he will FINALLY start doing what I tell him to do.

I kid, I kid, I kid!

Tags conflict management, Marriage, mindfulness, perpectual arguments

Categories Marriage

The Hive

August 1, 2014 //

Some animals, like bees, are eusocial. They live in highly organized social groups, each with a job to do, and all for the survival of the group. Adult bees are drones, workers, and for one unlucky female, the Queen.

This would all seem so complicated except for one thing. Bees have tiny brains and they don’t live very long. In other words, it is unlikely that more than the tiniest bit of learning goes into this process and I’d say it’s safe to say that no thinking goes into it. Bees follow instinct. They do their jobs, they don’t change roles, and when they communicate, they send messages that are easy for everyone to understand.

People are also social animals but from an evolutionary standpoint, we are driven for individual survival, not group survival, a quality the ethologist Richard Dawkins called the “selfish gene“. Evolution is not everything. There are other forces at work and some of them even motivate us to get along with one another and nurture each other for the greater good.

But people have big brains and live a long time! We learn to play many roles and carry out many responsibilities. And these roles and responsibilities are not predetermined at birth. Unlike bees, we are not born into an inflexible caste.

Living in a group is really complicated. We communicate with our words and other behaviors. We don’t always say what we mean. We don’t always know what we mean. Our roles overlap and our goals may be at cross purposes.

Bees have very organized relationships. However, they don’t have intimate relationships. People bump and scrap with each other all of the time. We protect ourselves from real and perceived slights. Most of us put a lot of energy into individual survival as well as to helping our loved ones.

I try to live a peaceful life. I try to be a helpful and nurturing person. I try to belong to the community of humanity and to contribute to its health. But I often fail to do so and sometimes spectacularly so.

I am a nice person but I am not always nice. I am a caring person but sometimes I try to protect myself at the expense of others. Sometimes, I use my intellect to come up with fancy justifications for my behavior when in my heart of hearts, I know that I am doing wrong. I am a happy person but sometimes I am irritable and sometimes I lose my temper and yell at the very people that in my hearts of hearts, I love the most.

Almost every time this happens it is because I have neglected my self-care. I have pushed myself too hard, worked too many hours, not eaten well, not taken time to myself, and not exercised. When I think of myself last, it is because I am looking outward to what I think my family needs, ignoring cues from myself that a good deal of my distress is simply because I am not caring for myself.

It is at the times I make these seemingly altruistic sacrifices, I am most prone to behaving selfishly.

I am not perfect. That is okay. Expecting myself to have no needs is not okay. Being selfish is not okay. I am not perfect. That is okay.

Tags altruism, ethology, evolution, Mental Health, mindfulness, self care, selfish gene, selfishness, stress

Categories Family, Feelings, Marriage, Mindfulness

Something out of nothing

July 26, 2014 //

I come from an Italian American family on my mother’s side. Her great grandparents were farmers in northern Italy who immigrated to the U.S. to raise children and work the coal mines near Seattle. In other words, they were not fancy people. They were poor. But they were smart, hard working, life loving, and resourceful. They not only loved food but had a lot of mouths to fill. They knew how to “make something out of nothing”.

My mom knew how to do this, too. It wasn’t as if we were poor but money was tight and there were a lot of people to feed in a family of eight. Mom is also masterful at re-purposing leftovers into new meals so that food is not wasted.

The week has continued to exhaust me. I rallied in the writing of my last post, only to have an extremely fragmented and stressful evening, during which my irritability peaked, and I became quite irrational. My daughter had gotten rather angry with me because she told me that she had another parade the next morning and I had reminded her that I had asked her to tell me about all of her events and she had just told me, “Don’t worry about it, Mom.” I was not able to sacrifice half of a work day to get her there. She got very angry. It was kind of a last straw for me and I mostly took it out on my husband because she had treated me extremely disrespectfully and he left the room instead of backing me up. Realistically, he was probably doing what he needed to do to keep from yelling, with which I was already doing a good job.

I spent a good deal of the early part of yesterday fighting the urge to go back to bed. I have not had a day like this in a very long time. My brain and my heart were utterly exhausted despite the fact that it was a gloriously beautiful summer day in which I had much to do. I forced myself to stay out of bed. By late afternoon, I was sitting on the couch with a head both full of everything and nothing, swirling in eddies of acute pain and numbness.

My husband came home early from work and asked what I wanted to do for dinner. I said, “I am not doing well at all. I know I will be okay. Right now, I can’t think. I can’t answer questions. I need 15 minutes to finish up work.”

Then I started on my unfinished progress notes, one by one, and with the completion of each one, I gathered a tiny but noticeable bit of energy. In about 45 minutes I was done. I had accomplished something. I told John, “Sorry, that took longer than 15 minutes. I’m going to cook dinner.”

I walked into my kitchen. I had a perfectly ripe mango, a perfectly ripe avocado, and some limes. They were not planned for a particular meal. In general, that is often the way I shop. I just buy what looks good. In my freezer, I had some large shrimp. I also had a bit of simple salad left over from another meal. It was made from jicama, radish, and lime. I thought that might be a nice textural and flavor contrast with sweet mango but I wasn’t sure but I started getting excited to try. And as I sliced, zested, crushed, sauteed, and mixed, my spirit continued to lighten and I felt myself filling up again. When I tasted, I could tell that I’d made a lovely summer salad full of good things. My husband and I had a nice meal together, which led to a nice evening.

I had been depleted and feeling in utter need, just an hour before. I needed to give myself an experience of creating from start to finish, to remember that I am capable of making wholes and not just carrying an armload of loose fragments, which keep falling to the ground, and then others fall as I stoop over to pick them up.

Remember what you have and make use of it.

That is my meditation for today.

Shrimp and mango with lime, avocado, radish, and jicama.

Shrimp and mango with lime, garlic, avocado, radish, and jicama.

Here is the recipe:

About 1 pound of large shrimp, peeled and deveined with tails left on.
1 lime, zested (put zest to the side), then cut into quarters.
1 large ripe avocado, peeled, pitted, and cut into large dice. (Squeeze one of the limb slices on it so it doesn’t discolor).
1 large ripe mango, peeled, pitted, and cut into large dice. (If you have not cut up a mango, read some directions on doing it. It’s not hard but it’s different than other fruit.)
1/4 of a jicama, peeled and cut into matchsticks.
3-4 mild-flavored radishes, peel on, sliced thinly. (I used a small portion of a large watermelon radish, which was about the size of my fist and cut it into match sticks.)
3 cloves of garlic, peeled and crushed.

1. Put all of the ingredients into a bowl except for the shrimp, garlic, half of the lime zest, and all of lime wedges into a bowl. Add salt and pepper to taste and the juice from 2-3 lime wedges. Mix gently with your hands so the avocado does not lose its shape.

2. Heat 1 teaspoon of oil and about 2 teaspoons of butter in a large saute pan, on medium to medium high, taking care not to burn the butter. Add garlic and cook for about a minute, stirring frequently. Add the shrimp and cook for a minute or two on each side until curled up and opaque, but not rubbery!

3. Put the salad into a serving bowl and top with the shrimp. Sprinkle the remaining lime zest on the top so it looks pretty!

Tags cooking, creativity, Family, Marriage, mindfulness, Parenting, stress

Categories Family, Feelings, Marriage, Mindfulness, Recipes

Getting a head

July 23, 2014 //

Last week I dreamed about my kittens. (Yes, I know, despite my formative years as a “dog person”, I have become a “cat lady” in my middle age.) My kittens are litter mates, brother and sister, both with pure black coats.

In my dream, they were conjoined twins. People looked at them and remarked, “Oh, look at the cute kitties!” Then the heads of the kitties started looking in different directions and the front right and left feet did the same. The kitties looked distressed. They were not working as a team.

When I awoke from the dream, I thought, “I need to use this image in a blog post.” Yes, really I did. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I am not someone who makes fancy dream interpretations. But I do think about my dreams, especially when I think they signal distress. At the time I was having the dream, I was concerned that John and I were not parenting as a team as well as usual and that we were having trouble communicating about the logistics of our lives. I think that is probably what the dream was about.

I have been pretty stressed during the last couple of weeks. I am an energetic extrovert. Nonetheless, I don’t function well if I am pulled in a hundred directions, living a fragmented life. I am not good at perpetually switching gears. That’s one of the reasons I was attracted to pursuing a research career rather than a career as a clinician. Clinical work means switching gears between people, situations, and goals, quite frequently. When I did research, I worked on one or two projects for years at a time. But I ended up being a clinician and thank goodness, I learned how to switch gears much better than I did previously.

Right now my workdays consist of switching constantly among work, driving my daughter around, getting to my healthcare appointments. My daughter has needed to be driven to one to three locations all around Seattle, every day, starting in the middle of the day. She takes the bus when she can but there are logistics to be worked there there, too.

Yesterday, I reminded her of what time she needed to be home from school (she is volunteering each morning to help with a band program for younger kids) so that I could take her to an activity at 2:00 pm in northeast Seattle. (We live in southwest Seattle.) The original plan had been for her to take the bus downtown and then take a transfer to get to the office. However, we’d tried that the day before and she missed the bus. Since it was mid-day, there was not another bus for an hour. I cancelled my annual physical so that I could come home from work and drive her. Seattle is not an easy city in which to get around. It is long, narrow, surrounded by water, and hilly, for starters. This means that there are a rather limited number of highways and streets available to get from one place to another.

As I complain frequently, I find driving to be taxing and stressful. I am a good driver and it is not that I feel really anxious when I am driving. It’s mostly that I have to think so hard. And it’s not that figuring out bus schedules and directions is that hard, especially with the Internet. It’s hard to remember to do it and to make sure my daughter has the information she needs and understands where she is supposed to be at what time and how to get there. (This is one time when I kind of wish we’d allow her to have a smartphone, but I digress.) Riding the bus involves a surprising number of steps and also, some background knowledge that a non-driver doesn’t necessarily know. Consequently, I need to break it down in my mind and then make sure she knows things I would otherwise take for granted. For example, “You have a parade after your appointment. It is north of where you will be. Do you know what side of the street to be on to take a northbound bus?” The answer is “no”. And she does not yet know north, south, east, and west. When I was her age, I didn’t either. Then there are the fragmented questions I throw out, “Remember your bus pass!” “Remember to pack a lunch!” “Remember your phone!” “Remember your band uniform. You’re not going to have a chance to come back home before the parade!”

If you are a long reader of this blog, you will know that I live with some rather forgetful people who actually need frequent reminders, even if they are not always happy to receive them, in the moment. And by the way, it is not enabling if your child is actually getting better at remembering these things on her own, which is the case for her. But she is only up to remembering these things about 50% of the time. Think about what your daily life would be like if you were not where you were supposed to be with the what you needed, half of the time. Also, you carry your bus pass in an old eyeglass case and your money in a ring box. And this is a major improvement in organization from years past. Finally, you don’t drive. See, having a nagging mom would be annoying but handy.

About two paragraphs, I was telling you about one example day. Then I veered off course. What you don’t know if that while I’ve been writing this post, I’ve stopped and started it many times. I actually wanted to write it last week when I had the dream. Right at this moment, I am fighting the impulse to walk out and investigate the bird sounds I am hearing.

When I am switching gears too much, coordinating multiple goals, I find that it is hard to stop switching gears. I find even more goals and they aren’t priority either. Instead of being a two-headed cat, I turn into a creature with an ever changing number of heads, all on one body. There is effort to do things but none of the cohesion required to get things done in an efficient way.

The first thing that happens to me is that I start getting forgetful. Then I start making mistakes. Then I start getting anxious that I am making a lot of mistakes and I am so distracted that my level of self-awareness waxes and wanes. Then I make more mistakes. Then I start a flurry of unecessary reassurance seeking. “Are you sure you have the bus pass?” “Hey, friend, did I just treat you badly?”

There is an expression that people use referring to feeling “centered”. It is a positive thing but honestly I can’t exactly articulate what it is. But what I can tell you that at this time, I don’t feel centered or “grounded”, another common description that people use to refer to a state of balance.

I don’t feel centered. I don’t feel grounded. I feel like I have an infinite number of heads and none of them contain good working brains. Now, these are subjective feelings. In reality, I am functioning. I am carrying out my life with competence. But I feel icky in the process.

My natural inclination is to think of the happy, balanced, reasonable, bright, organized, empathetic, and energetic version of myself as “the real me” and the other times are aberrant.

I am becoming increasingly, aware, however of how unreasonable this belief really is. I am always me. Who else would I be? The person who gets irritable with her husband because she is overwhelmed and fragmented? That’s me. The person who asked her husband to take care of a responsibility this morning because she was exhausted, even though she’s been irritable with him? That’s me. The real me is not that perfect and it is unhealthy for me to maintain a vision of myself as needing to meet that standard in order to be “real”.

The person who is feeling a little more grounded and centered after having sorted through her thoughts and feelings while writing this post?

That’s me, too.

I have goals in my life. Some day, my life will end. But my life, itself, is not a goal or an end point.

My life is an experience, with lines of continuity as well as flux.

What else would it be?

Tags identity, Marriage, mindfulness, Parenting, stress management

Categories Breast cancer, Family, Feelings, Marriage, Mindfulness, Parenting