Hello spring, you couldn’t come soon enough. We’ve all needed to lighten our loads. And what better way to start than by taking off our parkas? Like the shining moon hidden under the clouds, you’ve come from behind the cold for renewed hope.
The warmer weather feels like a gift. Being able to meet friends outdoors has been invaluable. Being comfortable because it’s no longer freezing, simply warms my heart. Walking this past week felt like a welcomed activity as if I haven’t been walking all along. Nonetheless, there’s an ease with Spring in the air. The city comes alive. The quiet streets are now a recent memory.
It can be a fickle season. Rain is abundant, storms are coming, and the warmth can be fleeting. But for today, I am grateful for the simple pleasure of Spring.
Clean Your Windows. Spring cleaning is a great start to the season.
Take a walk and see the new blooms
Grow herbs and/or flowers on your windowsill, in your garden, or even in a pot on a table. It helps to connect with nature, wherever you are.
I don’t really understand Instagram. I’ve heard it’s for boomers. As a Baby Boomer, I am virtually clueless on how to navigate this social media platform. I can send hearts to a photo, but opening attachments, or anything more than loving a post eludes me. I keep meaning to find a tutorial I can follow, but my time is spoken for, so learning how to use Instagram stays low on my to-do list. I post to Instagram weekly. I’m not sure if it goes through, or if people just see pictures but can’t open the attachments.
There have been many times in my life when I’ve had common usage issues. Learning the Dewey Decimal system in the public library meant that I couldn’t always find what I was looking for in my formative years. It felt like a win when I could go to the files to find whatever reading material I needed. Wearing a silk scarf still alludes me. Many people can carry off scarves wearing them seamless accessories. Not me. My knots are sloppy, and they never fall gracefully. What would naturally enhance a Zoom frame comes so unnaturally to me.
Circling back to Instagram, I’m not so proficient with other social media platforms, but I know the rudimentary skills and muddle along with that. Recently I noticed the amount of energy that I spend baffled. Acting with uncertainty. It’s tax season now and I have to pull together all my documents. I feel unsure if I collected them all. I’m insecure to send the needed information properly. The unease of using Instagram or attempting to be my own bookkeeper put me off balance.
I like to know things. Not knowing, or living with uncertainty, has me uncertain of myself. And that can lead me to be defensive. Sharing a few of the many things I don’t know may allow me the freedom to either learn the ins and outs of Instagram or not. But I don’t need to act as if I know more than I know. My uncertainty provides a level of compassion for others. Uncertainty provides an opportunity to learn to stay upright in a boat on choppy water. A skill useful on the high seas or on uneven ground.
I find it’s difficult to trust myself when I’m deep in uncertainty. I come face to face with my vulnerability when I confront my limitations. And living in my vulnerability brings compassion for myself and others. Though it’s an imperfect process, I do know that when I don’t immediately hide my vulnerability by armoring with defensive behaviors. Knowing that I don’t know opens the door to growth.
Ask for help when needed. Though it may be uncomfortable, asking from a place of vulnerability allows us to receive with graciousness.
What song makes you happy? Put it on your playlist or in a bookmark so you can go to it quickly and easily.
Think about some of the things that you don’t know in your life. Rate them to see which ones are worth learning and make a plan to learn them, or accept not knowing them.
The weather these past few days lightened our moods. With colder temperatures and snow today we may slip back to a shared discontentment. A week ago the general agitation was palpable. Wide-ranging reactivity was pronounced. Small misunderstandings caused friction. And this was among strangers. Relationships have been strained. Most are not able to keep up with inflation. Families are under-resourced, overly tired, and living with ongoing exasperation. Those who live on their own have bouts of loneliness, especially because the difficulty in getting together with others while Omicron was at its height kept socializing at bay.
Distress seems to be the mood of the moment. It’s been tiresome to put plans on hold again and again. Reactivity is at an all-time high. Patience is worn thin. Frustration and annoyance are way too common. So many are at their wit’s end trying to figure out a way ahead.
For a good number there is a relief that the mask mandates have loosened. For others it adds a new layer of fear. There’s the fantasy that we’ll get back to normal. But we are not going back in many ways. Whatever is ahead of us remains to be seen. And that can be scary.
Though it may take a good amount of time to recover physically and emotionally from all we lost these last couple of years, we can find pockets of hope and joy in the present. Yesterday I was helped by a thoughtful salesperson at a hardware store. In a time when customer tolerance is more prevalent than customer service, his assistance brightened my day. Smiles from strangers have taken on a new worth. And the unexpected generosity of friends has been priceless. I will be taking in any and all acts of kindness Now more than ever those moments provide the light that moves us forward.
Rub your hands together until you create heat, then gently place them on your eyes. This can provide a soothing moment.
Sing yourself a lullaby at night to lovingly put yourself to sleep.
Try a new toothpaste. It will help awaken you in the morning since it’s an unfamiliar flavor.
2021 was so, so long. In this last week I have little interest in reviewing this past year. The fact that I, that we, got through it is good enough for me.
The good news is that not looking back, at least for now, keeps me in the moment. My quandary is whether I‘ve chosen mindfulness or denial. If I choose mindfulness, then there’s space for my denial. If I go with a state of denial, then who cares? I will not decide. I will opt for a “both/and” rather than an “either/or” scenario.
The effort that goes into a binary dilemma is too great. We spend so much attention making an argument for our point of view. The more I defend a specific position I take, the less likely I am to learn something new.
So long, 2021. I will not miss you. I appreciate much from this past year. Larry and I moved to a nicer home. We didn’t know we could do it, yet here we are. I continue to enjoy a hybrid private practice, in-person and virtually. 365 sunrises and sunsets made for beautiful light. Being in touch with friends and family, when possible, brought love and laughter. Reading new essays, books, and articles enriched me. Not finishing books, no matter how highly praised by critics, was pure relief. And daily walks always expanded my vision. For those and many other gifts I am grateful.
However, having to reach to our depths to get through a full year of the pandemic unnerved most of us. Our tempers were shorter, our patience wanting. We are at the final stretch. It’s less than a week until we ring in the new year. For me it will be less of a new beginning than it will be a step forward. Another step into the unknown.
Take the pressure off New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day. If you have plans have fun and stay safe. If you don’t have plans, enjoy the simplicity of staying in.
Rather than making New Year’s resolutions, think of what you might like to let go of.
Regift. If what you received isn’t for you for any reason, find those around you who would appreciate it. Or donate. Either way, it’s a win-win.
I’m finding this holiday season to be quite odd. On the one hand, many of us are able to travel, visit with friends and family, and celebrate the holidays in person rather than on Zoom. On the other hand, our nervous systems have been taxed beyond what we thought possible as we forge ahead.
I so appreciate the invitations I’ve received for in-person celebrations. And, yet, I just don’t feel up to it. I am less inclined to have small talk. I like to see people, but not much is new in terms of life changes, and I don’t have the wherewithal to listen even though I’m interested. So I sit out the parties. Parties I yearned to attend in my 20s and 30s. Parties I will forego in my 60s while we still cope with a pandemic.
When we ask, “how much more can we endure?”, we’re simply given more. Plodding ahead, a bit slower than before. Sometimes I can delight in a small moment. Such as walking with a friend or enjoying a chance meeting in Central Park. Other times I am enraged by what would seem an insignificant event.
Today my face burned as I attempted to walk around a family who abruptly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to adjust something in their stroller. It wasn’t an emergency and they had plenty of room had they cared to walk a couple of steps moving closer to the curb. I have little patience for those who are not considerate of others. Simple kindnesses go a long way. I soften when someone is gentle or thoughtful. Later in the day a neighbor helped me with a package, and I could have cried from gratitude. Ambivalence and a general malaise have ruled these last months. It’s kind of like a throwback to my adolescence, or maybe even menopause. Two stages I would have preferred to leave in the past. Yet here I am, moody and grateful.
Smile to a stranger. Know that they, too, are going through a lot
Allow yourself to slow down. It’s easier to make room for your feelings, your process, or anything you’re experiencing when you slow down, take a breath, and say, “In this moment this is where I am.”
Take a bath. If you can, find some bath soap paint that washes away. Create art on your body, in the tub, then wash it away. It’s fun and it will be a reminder of the impermanence of our situation.
I’m teary this weekend. It’s hard to watch the news because my mind pivots to the many clients who spoke of their losses the days, months, and years post-9/11. As we commemorate the 20th anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11th, 2001, those of us who remember can clearly recall the exact circumstances when we witnessed or heard of the attacks. I am one of the fortunate who worked downtown, but I had taken the day off to attend a seminar. I never worked in the World Trade Center, but our social service center had a direct view. There were so many other stories like that of those who for unforetold circumstances were not in the towers when they fell.
I was out of social work school for three years when the planes crashed. Having had training in trauma, but not much experience, I was asked to work with employees in companies who were downtown. It was a quick, intensive training on mental health first response. I had the privilege of listening to individual stories in a new chapter in tragically disrupted lives. Each person I heard had so much courage. They came from all walks of life surviving while countless loved ones, coworkers, colleagues, and others did not make it.
I recall the kindness and caring that New Yorkers shared. There was a common grace for others. Sadly, I also remember the fear from Muslim friends and those from the Middle East who were harshly judged, misunderstood, or seen as the enemy. Their love of our shared country unacknowledged. On the one hand there were so many acts of kindness. On the other hand, there was so much blame going around.
So much sadness, so much anxiety. Both defined the days and months that followed.
Post-trauma can alter our nervous systems. Twenty years later we’re all familiar with that. The last eighteen months have played havoc on our nervous systems. Sometimes we are upset or act out which then affects others who are in a vulnerable state, and on it goes.
It’s a challenge to give someone else the benefit of the doubt when there is so little room to accept our own confused emotions. With practice we have a bit more patience, a bit more benevolence to get through these days without rushing to judgement of ourselves and others. I cried today. I could have gone on the defensive. Well, I did for a bit, then I cried some more, understanding that vulnerability was the strength I needed to harness rather than residing in a distrustful stance. So many moments leading to big changes.
When you react with anger, impatience or in an accusatory manner, take a moment to ask yourself what might be going on. Then, if you’re able, see if there’s something you can do to care for yourself. Perhaps a few minutes to regroup.
Stretch. It’s easy. And it can help to move to the next moment with ease.
Read a child’s book or poem aloud. Read it in a voice other than your own. Being silly and indulging in play is a mood changer.
It’s a rainy Sunday, overcast and wet outside. I ventured out early to capture the sunrise on the East River, instead I was welcomed with grey clouds and mist. Beautiful in its subtly, but not as majestic as even a partially cloudy day. A day like today can be difficult for those going through hardships, the bereaved, the infirmed, caregivers, those suffering from mental illness, parents with young children, parents with older children, the lonely, and anyone else who is dealing with their own life struggles. One of the worst questions, yet most often asked is, “How are you?” How do we answer that in a pandemic?
When we ask, “How are you?” we see the slight hesitation before the respondent says, “Fine.” The habitual question and answer are from pre-pandemic times. It’s automatic, but not current. I make mistakes from time to time and ask how someone is doing. I then double back, and qualify it by inquiring, “How are you given the pandemic?” At least then I’m acknowledging some hardship in our present reality. Nonetheless, the question remains flawed. Perhaps we can find other ways to connect.
We can ask “What’s new?” I’m joking. What’s really new when we’re still socially distanced? I’m more inclined to ask, “What are you reading?” “What are you watching?” “What are you enjoying these days?” “Do you cook or order in?” “Anything you can recommend?” I ask all of these to assess how my friends, colleagues, and family are doing.
I remember a neighbor who used to ask how I was. I’d always say, “fine.” However, her ask was more of an invitation to ask her how she was. When she answered she was long-winded. It surpassed the parameters of polite neighbor banter, and leapt into intrusive and annoying. Needless to say, I smile politely when I see her now, but I pass by quickly with no curiosity of her state of being. I merely feel relief that I dodged her socially-inappropriate bullet. Maybe we all feel a sigh of relief for the absence of similar encounters.
How are we? We’re tired, we’re grateful, we’re sad, we’re joyful, we’re frustrated, we’re patient, we’re absentminded, we’re mindful, we’re angry and we’re peaceful. It’s a veritable bouillabaisse of emotions. Perhaps no different than pre-2020, but probably more noticeable than in our recent pasts. Even so, we may not be able to tease out one feeling from another at any given moment. So please refrain from asking, “How are you?”
When speaking to someone, rather than asking them how they are, try another question or phrase. You could say, “Good to speak with you, or see you.” Or “Tell me what bores you these days?”
Write lists and cross off items as needed. We’ve been forgetting things, so writing lists help us to see what to do, and what we can forget about doing.
Watch “In and Of Itself.” It’s a magical theatrical performance now available on Hulu.
Find an app like www.myfridgefood.com to make quick, easy recipes for ingredients already in your pantry and refrigerator.
I have to admit that I wasn’t sure that the judge I watched numerous times on Law and Order was Fran Lebowitz. It looked like her, but was she a doppelganger, or was she, in fact, the writer? After watching “Pretend it’s a City,” Martin Scorsese’s excellent (in my opinion) docu-series of Fran Lebowitz, I was happy to learn that, yes, it was her as Judge Janice Goldberg in the original Law & Order.
The short series on Netflix was a delightful, laughter-filled escape from current events this past week. I learned a lot, evaluated my own thinking, and admired FL’s ability to speak her personal truths, thoughts I often have, but don’t share aloud. Somehow the cable show also had me pondering on the wonder of all I don’t know. I’m not even sure how I arrived at that thought trend, but once there, my mind wandered endlessly to all that is yet to be explored. I’m not speaking of subjects that vaguely interest me, but not enough to occupy my time, like physics or economics. I’ll leave that to the experts. Then I’ll simply read their selective theories. I’m more thinking about what curiosities I can discover in a day, or in a new place, or with those who think differently than myself. Am I willing to let go enough to be in awe of the newness of an experience, much like a young child? I’m willing to try. I’ll see how it goes. If nothing else, I’ll learn more about my curiosity or lack thereof.
I can’t say I was in child-like wonderment whilst I tried to learn two new computer programs today. It was more like initial confusion followed by adult frustration. My curiosity quickly morphed into baffled exasperation. Though I wasn’t as open as I would have liked, I was able to marvel at my reaction, and my limited ability to take in perplexing information. I will try again briefly today, but it appears I need more time and energy to learn these programs. May I say that the tutorials for both wrongly claim the ease in which one can get them up and running. What I didn’t fully appreciate before is that I cannot rely on old knowledge to magically create aptitude for new skills.
It helped to admit that I couldn’t figure out how to launch the programs. Though I was hoping not being able to master the first program, I could figure out the second one. Not having the bandwidth to take in anything new happens more now in the pandemic. And, if that’s not enough, even old facts leave me with limited mental access. If I once knew something but can’t recall it at a particular time, I’m more embarrassed than if I never knew it at all. Or, if I am familiar with a topic, but know no specifics about said topic, I’ve been reluctant to admit that. I am happy to eschew that behavior by proudly admitting all I don’t know. I certainly don’t know how this will go, but I’m curious to find out. In the meantime, I’ll reread Fran Lebowitz’s essays.
Admit that you don’t know something. It’s better to learn by not knowing than to be uncertain of what you might know.
Make room for making mistakes, it’s bound to happen, and it helps us grow.
Shape recommendations or suggestions to accommodate your life rather than shaping your world to acclimate to specific advice.
Watch Netflix’s “Pretend it’s a City,” or something else true to your sense of humor.
Place a light fragrance on your wrist, sniff it periodically, to get you through tough times.
Yesterday I hit the wall. Before I lost all steam, I had lofty plans. I had research to do. There is always cleaning and organizing. I was behind on my writing. Yet, by the time I was three fourths of the way through a walk in Central Park, I felt as if I was dragging my leaden legs on the southern arc of the Reservoir. When I finally reached home, I couldn’t get my sweats on fast enough. Then Lucy had to go out. I love her, and also dearly wished there was someone else who would have taken her out. I was able to speak with a friend from the other coast, and that gave me a pleasurable energy shot. Though life in California is as fraught as it is in New York and throughout the world.
This past week brought to the forefront the negative results of anger and hate. Those are human experiences, but when those feelings are unchecked, then further fueled, they become destructive. I hope we can learn from this, rather than take sides with defensive righteousness. I certainly see how my own unexamined anger hurts Larry, Alex and probably others. Once I see that I’ve hurt them, I have to consider what changes I can make so that we share joy rather than pain. It’s an ongoing process of patience and kindness mixed with tools to calm my agitated soul.
Was it possible that I had no energy to calm myself after Wednesday’s attack on the Capitol? That played a part in my exhaustion, nonetheless, having witnessed it from afar, it’s not the only reason. From what I’ve heard I am not alone in running out of steam in this time of Coronavirus. We are all frayed. We have been faced with challenges that have pushed us beyond our known limits, while still having to conduct our lives on a daily basis.
I imagine yesterday’s pause was essential. It meant I missed attending my first Zoom party. It was only this morning that I even remembered that it was last night. I think of my friends and family daily. I so appreciate what they are doing to brighten others’ lives. Though it’s an internal reflection since I rarely reach out these days, I am grateful that they are in the world and in my thoughts.
Here we go into another week. What will it bring? We’ll see. For me, I plan to get more rest. I’m hopeful that will make room for added patience and kindness.
Light a candle. Whether it’s a small birthday candle or a luxurious scented candle, light a candle to brighten these dark winter nights.
Compliment someone. It’s easy to think nice thoughts, but it’s invaluable for someone to hear that you noticed.
Look up. Sometimes we see things we would have otherwise missed.
Go for a walk, short or long, it can be an essential calming tool
Pause. Check your breath and survey your body. Coming back to ourselves, even 30 seconds at a time, is another way of acquiring calm.
We just took a trip to a resort in Punta Cana, in the Dominican Republic. It was beautiful. The weather was warm and clear, and everyone was friendly. I wanted to enjoy this vacation. Last year was hard and I was looking forward to some R&R. But the food, though plentiful, went from bland to awful. The amenities promised were elusive or not as advertised. The other travelers seemed to be content, but I couldn’t help notice the missing details, the absence of my desired holiday away. I would go for a run on the beach, grateful for the easy breeze, and the laps of the ocean. Yet, I kept thinking of all the things I didn’t like about being there. I was angry at myself for booking and paying hard-earned money for this trip. I kept playing back other vacations I should have taken. I was blaming myself for not being able to let it go. Why couldn’t I simply enjoy what I had. Why was I so upset? Why couldn’t I be a more spiritual being? There are so many who are scared for their families and loved ones. There are those dealing with death, health challenges, immigration issues. And, I am feeling sorry for myself for not enjoying the beautiful resort I was in. What kind of person am I? And, the self-criticism was relentless. I am not grateful. I am not selfless. I am not worthy.
This is not a new theme for me. I have a long history of being hard on myself. I understand that it’s not productive, yet I don’t seem to stop. In fact with the time and space on vacation, I seemed to swim a little in the outdoor pool and swam constantly in a state of condemnation. As the week continued, I’d have moments of peace, thinking that this will be a really funny story with some distance. And there were other times when the inner monologue chattered on.
“I am not a published book author, I’m not a size 8. I’m not a home owner. I’m not a multi-millionaire. I’m not a doctor. I’m not organized. I’m not young. I’m not coordinated.” The list could easily continue. I am clearly aware of what I’m not. In fact, sometimes my mind is so crowded with what I’m not, there’s no room for what I am.
What I am is a mother and a wife. I’m happy with my work. I have a private practice and work with amazing individuals. I’m a friend. I’m a sister and a daughter. I am a theater and arts lover. I’m a subscriber to theater companies and a member to a number of varied museums. I’m a walker. I love walking the city. I’m a Manhattanite. I’m funny at times, and critical at other times, I’m a foodie. Life is good. But it won’t always be good. Sometimes a vacation turns out to be a vacation from what I love. And being away gives me greater appreciation of what I have.
So I’m thinking this vacation was about taking vacations every day from self-criticism. It taught me to spend less mind-space on what I’m not, and celebrate more on who I am. Maybe this bad vacation can have a good outcome.
If nothing else, I’m blogging again. So, yeah, I’m a blogger, too.