Life is hard, you know, and laughter is how we come to terms with all the ironies and cruelties and uncertainties that we face.
Desmond Tutu

“To write is human, to receive a letter: Divine!”
― Susan Lendroth
Yesterday evening I dropped a card off at the midtown east post office. I was late in sending it and the post office was close to my plans for the evening. For years I’ve passed by the public sculpture out front. But I didn’t expect sculptures inside the post office. It was a nice surprise.
I love when life throws a curve ball and I’m there to catch it. It’s a rare occasion. Yet every so often, like last night, I was able to enjoy some unexpected art. I shouldn’t have been surprised. The artwork of the stamps have become more beautiful as time has passed. Long gone are the days of blue rolls of five cent George Washington portraits.

I recently purchased a sheet of RGB stamps. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. My current favorites are the 2024 love stamp, the waterfalls, the deco style railroad stations stamps, the most recent Hanukkah stamp, marine sanctuary stamps, and women’s rowing team stamps. The designs are easy inspiration to send cards through the mail. There’s nothing like getting a handwritten note among the bills and junk mail. Snail mail may be old school, but sometimes something old school brings new surprises.
Self-Care Tips:
“Just do what works for you, because there will always be someone who thinks differently.” Michelle Obama
I love quotes. When I first started my psychotherapy private practice in the mid-90s before there were iPhones and Facebook, I had an answering machine, and the recording included quotes on there. I changed them monthly or so, and it felt nice. But I was a new therapist and I wanted to do things right. It felt right to me. Nonetheless, I was told by a senior therapist, one who I respected, that I might want to rethink having something so personal on my outgoing message. The common practice was to be as neutral as possible. Her thinking was that a chosen quote could possibly be sharing unnecessary private information about me or, it might be misconceived.
I regretfully took it off my machine. I wanted to do the right thing, and as someone new to the field I thought a more seasoned therapist would know better. Over the subsequent years I have come to believe that I can share quotes should I choose. If a potential client feels uncomfortable with that, or they are not fond of the quote, then they are given important information and can move on to find the right therapist for them. And those who align with whatever quote I post, may feel good about sharing in that philosophy. Whatever the case, I have the freedom to express myself as long as I am also responsible for managing whatever consequences my actions may have.
That therapist was trying to help. I don’t think she was judgmental or bossy. This is how she learned to practice and was simply passing on specific expertise. I was too insecure to do what felt right for me, so I ignored my desire for self-expression is the service of doing what was deemed professional. Now I understand that professionalism comes in many forms. My office, described as shabby chic by one client, will not feel welcoming to someone who prefers a more neutral setting. I wanted a homey feel. It does impart information about me, whether in the artwork on the walls or from the books on my bookshelves. And so be it. For me this is a welcoming space, but not for everyone.

It’s taken me years to feel good walking in my own shoes. They are not the worn tennis Tretorns my mother passed down to me in my teens and early adulthood. Nor are they the stiff leather oxfords my dad brought home for me in my childhood and preteen years when they didn’t sell at his store. They are shoes I’ve chosen on my own, colorful, wide, and comfortable. I walk in them like the New Yorker I am, at a clipped pace walking around those who might slow me down.
“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose.” Dr Seuss
Self-Care Tips:
We are at the end of 2023 and yet life goes on with all its difficulties, complications, wonders, and joy. As we change the calendar year perhaps there is a better way to move forward. We traditionally make resolutions. Maybe we call them something else, but so many of us want to better our lives and a new year can feel like a blank slate.
I am all for making changes. I’m hopeful to be kinder and more compassionate with myself. This is a hope I’m carrying from this past year, day to day, and moment by moment. I find hope is not enough, though. It takes a daily practice of bringing compassion especially in times of struggle. To that end, I am relying on my experience that a daily practice of compassion or kindheartedness can change our lives in unexpected ways. Our hearts open up. We can listen from a place of curiosity rather than assumptions. We can better tolerate discomfort as we work to ease our pain. And we experience possibility rather than imposing past negative beliefs.
If we look back, we can all see that when we were encouraged, we blossomed. In college, Dr. Jones was a tough grader, but she was so uplifting, believing in her students’ ability to think for themselves. I wanted to do well in her class and did the hard work required. Conversely, in my creative writing class with a published author, I felt defeated as she had a very specific idea of good and bad. As an insecure 18-year-old, I quit before I even got started based on her condemnation. What was always a pleasure as a young teen turned into a shame-based exercise in her class. Two English professors with the same student and very different results.
As we set off into early 2024 let’s do what we can to encourage ourselves and others. If we find we’re having negative thoughts or words, perhaps we can see that we’re feeling stuck, and we can try again. There is always an opportunity for compassion. Whatever the year, compassion never goes out of style.
Self-Care Tips:

This week I’m sharing some past sunsets. Seeing sunrises and sunsets makes me smile. Sunsets remind me that nothing is permanent. And sunrises are an apt metaphor that we always have a chance at a new beginning. Both sentiments give me some peace. And we could all use peace.

Too often when thinking of global peace we think it’s up to world leaders. Or we can feel the futility of hoping for peace. It’s easy to feel powerless when there are wars in too many regions of the world. When anger and hate fill our media outlets peace can seem allusive. As a child, as with many of us, we learned the lyrics “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me.” I sung that song by rote. I didn’t really think of what I was saying. I found the tune bland. I was not inspired. And, yet, now when I hear talk of peace, and other songs referencing peace, I’m uplifted.

Perhaps we can start with a smile. It’s a small act, but it’s something we can offer. There is a happy meditation that suggests we smile when we breath. It changes our perspective and allows us to feel a bit lighter in the process. And when we share a smile it brightens up someone else’s day. In the past I might smile from time to time, feeling good when people smiled back. Admittedly I was resentful, as if I wasted a smile, when a blank stare or an unsmiling face looked back at me. But I can’t really know if it was a wasted smile. They may have had a delayed reaction. In that case, I wouldn’t have been privy to a positive impact. These days, I do my best to simply smile. I don’t always get a smile in return, but when I do, I am doubly happy.

I suggest we all start smiling. It may be an act of disruption since there has been a trend towards frustration, ire, and apathy. But we can pierce through the murkier emotions and land on a piece of peace.

This is not to say we should deny our feelings and err on the side of looking on the bright side. That does nothing but perpetuate the murkiness. Instead, we can acknowledge how hard it’s been and still share a smile with ourselves and others. News cycles always use fear and anger as their hook. Let’s lead with a smile, letting kindness be the hook. Let’s nourish our joy rather than feeding our fears. It’s a small step that can lead to collective inner peace.

Self-Care Tips:
As the year approaches its end, forgiveness is on my mind. I find that forgiveness is a process, though I used to imagine it was a one and done affair. I earnestly believed that I could forgive someone and then I’d be okay with them. I found that not to be the case. It was easier to forgive if the person made changes. Meaning they either stopped the offending behavior, or they started acting in a way they had avoided prior.
When I was younger, probably, post three-years-old and before I was forty, when I did something that was not thoughtful of another and then was found out, I begged for forgiveness. I needed to be forgiven to feel I could go on. This may have come because my mother, known to others as being kind, was particularly unforgiving to her daughters. One year I snuck into her bedroom closet to see if she got me a smart doll I coveted. I couldn’t find it, but she found me in the walk-in, and then I made up a pathetic lie.
When Hanukkah arrived the following week, I watched my sisters and brother open their gifts as I craved something to unwrap. For seven evenings I sat with them hoping that night would be the night I would be forgiven and be handed a present for the holiday. She begrudgingly gave me a gift-wrapped box on the final night. And I acted as if the plaid pajamas was the nicest thing I owned.
Now I understand that she was raising four children on her own since my father worked so many hours. And I had robbed her of one of the few joys she had as a mother, surprising us with gifts she secretly picked up while we were in school. Plus, she was an honest person and lying was something she couldn’t abide. I don’t know if she ever forgave me, or if my father pressured her to give me one gift. Or, if neither were true and I simply needed a new nightgown, but I hugged her as if my life depended on it.
I understood the power of forgiveness. I made a point of forgiving, or acting as if I had forgiven as I soothed my soul until I could forgive. And then I learned how forgiveness is something we give ourselves. It takes away the negative feelings we harbor. It releases us from the past so we can live lighter having unencumbered ourselves of umbrage. My mother and I enjoyed that freedom as I matured, and I was able to appreciate all she had given me.
Forgiving is not forgetting. Forgiving is about not weaponizing past behaviors, of others or ourselves. Forgiveness is an act of self-love. We care enough about ourselves that we will not allow the past to hold us down. And, yes, it’s a process. Sometimes I have forgiven Larry, my husband, because he hadn’t thought of me when I wanted to be considered. But I was not ready to let him know I forgave him. I was still processing that forgiveness. I knew I was in the final stages when I found my sense of humor and could own my part in our dynamic.
And, though there is so much more to forgiveness, please forgive me for this short set of thoughts at the end of this year when too many have experienced way too much hurt. For more on the subject, Harriet Lerner’s Why Won’t You Apologize is an excellent book on the subject.
May we all find lightness of being by unshackling the burdens of our resentments. Warm wishes this holiday season wherever you are in your path of forgiveness.
Self-Care Tips:

I’m sitting here watching Barbra Streisand on PBS in her Back to Brooklyn concert. The first time I heard her voice was in 1968 when the movie Funny Girl came out. I was enthralled, though I wouldn’t have known that word as an eight-year-old. Since then I’ve been a fan, attending her movies, and watching her tv specials. I only had the opportunity to see her in-person once when she came back to Brooklyn in 2016. It was magical.


This week I had the great privilege of attending a performance of the Alvin Ailey Dance Company at City Center. It’s been a while since I saw them last. The powerful bodies dancing with strength and beauty is a sight to behold.

The arts are essential. Not only do they transform us to higher heights, but they expand our sense of self and the world. I’ve been on a high this week after attending the dance performance. And now, to listen to Barbra’s voice, I am in awe.
There were a number of boring afternoons in elementary school when we went on field trips to the Philadelphia Museum. However it piqued my curiosity about the artwork that spoke to me, like Rodin’s The Thinker, and Van Gogh’s Sunflowers. Since then I’m an avid museum and gallery goer.

I’m so grateful to live in one of the best cities in the world, especially when it comes to the arts. I still get excited to attend the theater, enter a gallery, or see live music. I believe that the eight-year-old in me finds her joy when I take her to the movies, a show, a concert, a dance performance, or an art exhibit. And my present self joins her in joy and gratitude.
Self-Care Tips:
Napping was my top priority this past week. They were usually twenty to thirty minutes max. They made a tremendous difference in my mood. I was able to get through the week with a greater capacity for patience. I had more room for the things that usually get under my skin, like loud car horns in grid lock, or the annoying overspill from packages protected with shredded paper or other messy stuffing.
There’s nothing like a good nap. It can be rejuvenating, especially when it’s been a long day and I’ve been short on sleep. This past week rest was in order. Life is full, which is wonderful, however, I need to pace myself. Previously the learning curve has been slow going when it comes to pacing. So, to get into a supportive pace I took naps where and when I could fit them in.
I know I need the sleep when it’s so easy to fall asleep and I feel refreshed upon waking. For years I’ve prioritized movement over rest. Now I’m working on finding a balance so that I am energized when in motion and I am naturally tired at the end of the day, allowing for a restful night. Stress can interfere with sleep. And there’s been no lack of stress for so many of us these last months and even years.
I may not be able to control the amount of stressful circumstances that come my way, but the napping helps me to handle it better than when I’m sleep deprived. As a moody person, I will continue to minimize the low moods by getting the naps I need.
Self-Care Tips:

I spilled my coffee earlier this week. And I then let out a loud string of expletives to vocalize my frustration. I cleaned up the mess and then rushed to work. Not the way I had wanted to start my day. My reaction, though provoked, made it clear that I need some down time. It may not be the vacation that I’ve fantasized, but even an evening in, or a task free afternoon will do at this point.

To that end, this will be a brief post. I will not be replying to comments. I will be choosing to do less. Since I have a history of blurry boundaries, stating this upfront may seem clumsy, but at least I’m stating what I need.

Too many of us, particularly women and marginalized populations, try to keep up, which can keep us down. I invite you to join me in taking time off, even a fifteen-minute break. Perhaps if enough of us did that we would see less negative reactivity in our worlds. Less acting out.

Taking a time out, which for this adult is a gift not a punishment, will allow me the space and time to regroup. So if I spill my coffee again, I may be able to offer one expletive, rather than an endless string. Then I hope to simply get a towel and soak up the liquid.
