Grief Shaming

Posted on November 24, 2015 by janetgzinn

Last week on Facebook I had changed my profile picture to one with a transparent French Flag on top of my face. When I was in college I had gone to school in Paris one summer studying Art History and French. The art history stayed with me, the French, not so much. It was a seminal summer for me. Memories surged after the bombings and I responded based on my relationship to my past and those in my present. Yet, shortly after that, so many people started writing pieces or making comments about how wrong it was to change our profile pictures when so many more had been tortured and killed in Damascus, Beirut, Jerusalem, Sierra Leone….. And the shaming began.

I would much rather see a way in which we can educate and inform rather than tell one another that what has moved us isn’t good enough, or is racist or wrong. We’re all served well to learn more. But nothing is accomplished when we’re shamed into feeling bad about what matters to us.

The irony is that often it’s in an attempt to create tolerance. Instead it creates a rift. “My way of seeing the problem is better than what you’re doing,” is the implication. And, though we see it online, we also hear it in our lives. There are so many times that clients will tell me that they’ve been criticized for the manner in which they’ve mourned a loss. If someone is relieved that a parent has died, they are considered cold-hearted. Alternatively, people who mourn for a year or two are asked when they’ll get over it. If someone loses a dear pet, eyes roll. Why are we so dismissive of how others handle loss? And, what have we lost as a result of that?

The Last Word on The Marathon

Posted on November 4, 2015 by janetgzinn

So, I’ve been writing a lot about planning on running the marathon, training for the marathon and running the NY Marathon. Not only was the run a personal endeavor, but having written about it, it became a shared event. I secretly think it was self-centered of me to do this, and perhaps even more so in writing about it, but it’s a risk I’m taking. That said, I do want to complete this cycle, so I’m writing what I believe will be my final chapter on this subject. As selfish as I was in working towards and running the marathon, I have been acutely aware of how kind-hearted and generous my friends and family have been.

In fact, more than anything else I’ve gained from my experience running the TCS 2015 New York City Marathon is that I’ve gained an appreciation for all the good will out there. Even though I trained for the marathon, I’m not a serious runner. I started running five years ago, treading lightly to avoid extra knee pain. I’ve always loved walking but never in my dreams did I think I could run. Nonetheless going at my very slow pace, I could maintain a runners gait. After a couple of years running from time to time for a couple of miles or so, I thought I’d enter a race. I didn’t care about my time, and resented those who kept encouraging me to pick up my pace. I am usually a private person, so I was uncertain about the yelling that took place. “You can do this!” “Go, go go!”

Instead I put on my head phones and finished the race noticing people 10 years older pass me by. I didn’t check my time, and was happy to have done it on my own terms. From there I entered other races. I still had a “leave me alone” attitude, but I was proud to be in the races, increasing my distances. For my first half marathon, which was the More Half, I liked that there was a mix of women all ages, shapes, ethnicities and sizes. I felt like my unique running style was perfectly suited for me and for the event.

A friend said if I could do a half marathon I could do a whole marathon. But I thought getting through half a marathon was all I would ever be able to do. I loved going to First Avenue year after year to cheer the runners on the first Sunday of November. I always cried because I was moved by their determination and stamina. But they were runners. I was not. I contemplated walking the marathon. And when I thought of that it seemed doable. At some point I decided I will try to run the marathon. Maybe not completely, but as best as I can. My friend Jeannette was very encouraging. She had gotten into the marathon and was committed to her training. Zena, another friend who lived in Chicago until recently, was a complete champion of my running. She gave me a half-marathon necklace to commemorate my first half. She gave me advice about running. And when she was in New York she ran a race at my pace even though she is twice as fast.

Then there were my friends who would compliment me. I didn’t always take in the comments, replying, “Well, I’m really slow.” But people were kind. When I did announce that I was going to do the marathon, I got so many encouraging and enthusiastic comments. In the past I might have felt that I was now obligated to run because I said I would. And, what would people think? But instead I felt grateful. I was happy reading comments from friends and family. I felt supported.

And, as I thought about it, I knew if I showed up I would complete the marathon. I just had to show up. So, Sunday morning I got up early, got dressed took the subway to the Staten Island Ferry, took the Ferry and a bus to the Verrazano Bridge, where I would start the race. It was unseasonably warm. For me the weather was perfect. I prefer to be warm rather than cold. As a slow runner I don’t get as sweaty as those at faster paces.

I was in the last group of runners. Many were running for the first time, so there was a friendly yet nervous energy in the air. I had my playlist on. Fabulous music for 10 hours created by Larry. The gun went off and I started at the pace I kept throughout the race. When I was in pain I walked. I only stopped to use the porta-potties. I drank the Gatorade. I like luxury bathrooms and I don’t like energy drinks, but that was a small price to pay to do this race.

What was most amazing to me were the crowds of onlookers. I painted my name on my shirt. I knew I needed encouragement to do this run. Partyers would chant, “JANET, JANET.” I would hear my name from balconies, from strangers, from tourists and cops. It kept me going step after step. At mile 15 I was sure it was mile 16, and felt deflated for that mile. But then came mile 16 and I knew I could do 10 more. After 16 I was met by friends, first Zena and Seth, with an awesome sign as I entered Manhattan from the Queensboro Bridge, one of five. Then later Larry and Emma with our dog Lucy. They were with our other friends we met through Lucy, Just down the street stood more friends with another sign and a banana. From there I was met by many strangers wishing me and the other runners well. It was amazing energy.

In some ways the psychological training was more significant than the physical training. I had to get out of my own way. I had to learn to be less judgmental, at least for the duration of the race. I had to let in others’ enthusiasm. I had to appreciate the love shared. Don’t get me wrong, I had my moments. At two separate times I thought, “Fuck You,” when marathoners who wore tee shirts stating all the marathons they had run were condescending to me, a mere novice. They were nice in that fake way that lets me know they have “Experience.” But those moments were fleeting. Mostly I felt and continue to feel grateful.

Even though I ran this race for me because I wanted to do it, a bucket list item, everyone was so amazing. And that is what kept me going. I am surprised at myself for enjoying such a positive experience. I can latch onto the gaps in life complaining about what I don’t like. Yet for one day, one very long race from morning until night, I was smiling. A true reflection of all that was given with love and generosity. It brought out the best of New York City and the best in me. So thank you. I am now a proud New York Marathoner.

To Run or Not to Run

Posted on October 26, 2015 by janetgzinn

I don’t like when I get sick. Nor do I know anybody who does. For the last few days I was well enough to do a few things but sick enough to sleep a lot and eat very little, feeling weak and dizzy. Next weekend is the NYC Marathon. I’m scheduled to run, well, mostly walk. And, this weekend was slated as a pivotal training weekend. All my plans were opportunities to run miles to my destinations. That didn’t happen. I cancelled plans.

I’ll gage the week to see how I feel. I plan on entering the marathon and completing it with my slow jog. It will be dark and late, but that’s my plan. I was scheduled to run last year but an injury prevented me from running. I rescheduled for 2015.

It’s hard to know whether my body is informing me that it will be compromised if I attempt 26.2 miles. Or, is it a reaction to my fear, challenging me to overcome obstacles? It’s hard to know what lesson is in front of us.

There have been many times I misread the signs. I would have a funny feeling about making a plan. I would then think I’m just not open and accepting enough, so I’d go, trying to be okay about it. But in the end it was a lesson on setting limits not on expanding them.

When it comes to fitness I’ve learned a lot about myself. I don’t like boot camp classes, or instructors or trainers who yell and push. I like gentler, kinder trainers who encourage and gently prod me to try more. I want to enjoy my workout. I don’t expect to enjoy the entire marathon, but I’m going to do my best. Larry, my husband, created an awesome playlist. I’m writing my name on my shirt so I can take in the encouragement. I trained throughout the year, learning new stretches, and exercises to strengthen me physically.

If I don’t do the marathon, I gained a great deal this past year. I love to run, something I dreaded most of my life. I know that after next week 4 to 5 miles is my sweet spot, and I will maintain that, choosing not to run longer runs, unless something changes. I got comfortable doing something just for me. So, it was a year well spent.

In this next week I’ll do my best to listen closely to how I feel. I will respect my body whether that means a marathon, or it means starting it and not finishing, or, even if it means opting out. Even though my age (56) may be a contributing factor of my lack of speed, my age also gives me the advantage of making a choice that’s right for me. No matter what, I’ll do my best.

Something for Nothing

Posted on October 18, 2015 by janetgzinn

I am easily seduced. Obtaining a bargain, or being given the possibility to win something is an easy hook. But now, after years of winning nothing of substance, I am on email lists for any number of companies who want my business. Most of the emails get deleted without a second glance. On the one hand, I have a Pollyanna view of life, hopeful that things will turn out. On the other hand, I’m a sucker. I want something for nothing. And the something I get is an overabundance of emails luring me to go on vacations, acquire luxury products, or donate to another crowd-funding start-up.

This is nothing new. My father has always loved a good deal. He chose his present home, a two-story town house in an over-50 community because it was priced to sell. A Pollyanna himself, he didn’t figure in stairs as a deterrent for a couple in their 80s. While growing up he always brought home dented appliances because of their low price tag, while my mother scoffed at the impaired item. No matter how much my mother begged him to buy at a regular store, he couldn’t stop himself from scouring the off-brand warehouses popular in the 60s & 70s.

And, so, in my father’s footsteps I get excited when I see that I could win a trip to Tahiti, or win a shopping spree on a site that probably doesn’t accommodate for my curves or my age. I did stop myself from purchasing a membership to the Oprah Club. The ad promised free give-aways and deep discounts. As much as I love to get something for free, I decided that the price of the club wasn’t worth it.

Nonetheless, I have spent more time than I’d like to admit filling out surveys for a chance to be entered into a special drawing for one thing or another. I did win a free bag and a $25 gift card to Trader Joes once. But it wasn’t because I entered anything, I merely brought my own bags for shopping and was entered into their drawing. I like Trader Joe’s because they always have great prices even though it’s not a discount store. And, since I always bring my own bags for shopping, I can enter the drawing with the hope of winning another $25 gift card.

But no more online contests. Luckily my Dad doesn’t own a computer. So my parents dodged this bullet. And now now I’m spending my time unsubscribing from email lists. I don’t want the temptation of a big win to get in the way of living my life. My time is dear. I can use it enjoying what I already have.

Delayed Flight

Posted on September 15, 2015 by janetgzinn

I’m at La Guardia’s newly refurbished Delta Terminal. I’m on my way to Charleston. Everyone says what a great town it is. I look forward to getting there, but with the rain, the short runways, and delays, I’m at an iPod café ordering a dinner that will be a stark contrast to the wonderful cuisine to be had in Charleston.

This is a wonderful people watching opportunity, and if I would look up from my laptop I might enjoy the many fellow travelers in my midst. We have any number of head coverings. The guy furiously texting has a grey cap turned with the lid to the back. The woman across from him is wearing a black burka. Across the aisle is a business woman with a pair of sunglasses she’s wearing as a band, It’s been raining all day and it’s dark out now. But I assume she must have her reasons . A tall fellow with a salt & pepper beard is sporting a yamaka, while carrying his fancy black hat. A bald gentleman is reflecting the fluorescent light coming from above. There’s a pair of shiny red earphones on another bald man, though he purposely shaved his head. It wasn’t an accident of fate. One man with a kind smile has his long hair tied back in what looks like a large bun. No hat for him.

It’s nice to travel in the middle of the week. Mostly people are calm, unlike the many family trips we took President’s Week, when families act out loud voices, agitated, and not shy to display their bad moods. Needless to say their children are misbehaved. But none of that tonight. For that I am grateful, and I’m willing to let the hours go by while I wait for our plane to show up.

I’m at the airport to go on a solo vacation. I wasn’t stressed when the delays came because I’m making up the trip as I go along. I did get stressed when they changed the delay from 10:30 PM to 8:06 and it was after 6 PM, and I was still home with no cars available for another 30 minutes or so. I did get a yellow taxi, silently thanking Uber for my good fortune in the rain. Pre-Uber I never would have been able to snag a cab. And then after a long wait on the FDR drive, we made it to the RFK Bridge. I wasn’t aware that I was holding my breath until I received another text saying the flight was postponed until 8:30. I could finally unclench my jaw and breath a sigh of relief. Since the cab ride, it was delayed twice more. This after the back and forth in the afternoon. It feels like working with a really erratic patient on the Psych ER telling me, “We’re being invaded by aliens.” No, I mean Romanians. No Wait, I mean a covert ops organization with our government. No wait…” All I know is to stay alert and listen for what’s next. And, what’s next is a smooth night flight, non-stop to Charlston.

My Shade of Gray

Posted on August 2, 2015 by janetgzinn

Some changes are easy. Changing my clothes after a walk on a hot day, changing my mind, when I go for a walk rather than a yoga class, easy. Changing my hair, not so much. I’ve sat in many salon chairs, tears in my eyes, feeling helpless while scissors cut away the vision I tried to communicate to the hairdresser. Conversely, I loved the artists who gave me so much more than I had hoped. But the last few years I’ve gone back and forth about going completely gray or continuing my once a month trek to my local salon, tediously covering my roots.

Like my dad, I went gray at an early age. Like my mom, this wasn’t something I wanted to share publicly. So by my mid-twenties I dyed my hair any number of shades of brown, auburn, chocolate, and other colors not easily found in nature. This past year I made the decision to stop dying my hair. I came to this decision partly because I don’t enjoy going to the salon, and mostly because I’m working on not doing things that aren’t pleasurable to me, if I can help it. Dying my hair fell into the category of something I could help.

silk jacket dyed green; hair dyed dark auburn.

At first it was uncomfortable to walk around with gray roots. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been because my hair is curly and I don’t usually part my hair. Nonetheless, it wasn’t the style that I wanted to sport. But I let it grow and grow, walking around as a two-toned woman. And then last week I cut it all off. I hadn’t imagined the freedom I’d experience. I feel unburdened. I can’t explain it, but I feel liberated. I cut away a part of my past and am embracing my present. I am fully gray and proud of it.

two-toned

latest cut

Tooting

Posted on July 29, 2015 by janetgzinn

Fart was a curse word growing up in our household. If I “passed gas,” the only acceptable phrase I could utter, I was in a lot of trouble. I was banished from the scene and, best-case scenario, I could come back once I had gone to the bathroom and washed my hands. My mother would yell, “Go to the Bathroom!” It never made sense to me because once I had expelled my gas I was done. But as far as she was concerned it was only an introduction to a much dirtier deed.

So imagine my surprise when I would go to my friends’ homes and they would laugh, or make an off-handed comment should someone fart. It was not a big deal, and they acted like it was the most natural thing. I didn’t dare fart in public believing I’d be perceived as uncouth and socially immoral. As a very young child I thought my mother was an authority on manners. And, it was my job to exemplify her fine status, learning to say please and thank you even under duress.

‘Was that you?’

There was one time in particular when I simply mortified my mother. She was an avid tennis player and had a group of friends at the tennis club. I came with her at the age of 10 to sit and watch because I was off from school due to a professional development day, even though we called it a school day for teachers in 1970.

Bad moments in skiing.

“Janet, this is my friend Mrs. Stein.”

My mother said in her formal yet genteel tone. I was facing a fit woman about my mother’s age of 32 with dark full hair and what looked to be an expensive white and yellow tennis outfit.

“It’s so nice to meet you.” I said in my most polite voice.

I smiled and surprisingly expelled a slightly squeaky fart. It totally snuck up on me. I turned a shade of pink, while my mother turned beet red.

“Janet!!!” She said in horror.

Mrs. Stein had a closed lipped sneer. Two peas in a pod.

“Pardon me. I’m so sorry,” I said meekly.

I knew I would get in more trouble later. But my mother quickly left the offending area to play another match with Mrs. Stein.

It wasn’t until I was pregnant that I fully embraced the intelligence of my body. I couldn’t contain all the gas. Thanks to those 10 months, farting is no longer an off topic. And, I’m happy to say that, though I am not the ladylike woman my mother hoped to raise, I am more at ease with the ways and means of my digestive system. What once was forbidden is now an affirmation of a working body.

Milestones

Posted on June 1, 2015 by janetgzinn

May and June seem to bring important moments in our lives. Just this weekend we traveled to celebrate three graduations, a graduate degree, a bachelor’s, and a high school graduation. My parents celebrated 60 years of marriage. My oldest friend celebrated his daughter’s Bat Mitzvah, and my husband ended his 24 years as an audio-engineer on The Late Show with David Letterman. No matter where he goes next, he won’t be working on David Letterman’s show. These are all major milestones that impact not only the lives of the celebrants, but also of their families, colleagues, and loved ones.

Milestones are so important as they indicate a moment in time when something in our lives shift. We move beyond where we’ve been. But what does it take to reach our milestones? I believe we all have markers that may or may not be more significant than major life events, but they do get us through the day to day so that we can reach our goals. They are the times we just don’t feel like getting up to go to school. Or, it’s a time we had to push ourselves to get a paper done. It could be we don’t understand something and have to ask for help, though don’t really want to have to get that help. We all challenge ourselves in some way or another. We push past our own limitations to get to a better place. Or we have to get up after falling down, sometimes publicly.

I believe in these seemingly small moments we extend ourselves, and we grow. They are the steps needed to reach our milestones. And, as we struggle to learn what we have to do to live a satisfying life, we create moments in which we can privately be proud of ourselves. Sometimes I just don’t feel like getting up, yet once I’m in the park jogging, I revel in the greenery and people I encounter. There are days I haven’t a clue what to write, and I go through drafts of dead-end pieces until I find my voice, even if it’s warbly. My parents may have had to disagree hundreds of times, but they stayed together understanding that the conflicts were not the only aspects that defined their marriage. My husband was fortunate to work with musical legends, but he had to go to work each day knowing there was something new to learn since the guests changed daily. And he showed up even though he wasn’t always certain he’d give them what they wanted.

As we all know going to school isn’t always a picnic. Whether we have to take courses in which we are not secure, or whether we have to see people that aren’t nice to us, showing up and getting through the days can be challenging. Yet, in the end, I know Anne and Jake graduated with awards and honors, having faced their own trials. I am proud of them for their accomplishments. Yes, they graduated, but they did so much more on their journey to graduation. And I am proud of Larry for all he accomplished personally and professionally. It takes work to reach our lives’ milestones, and we can congratulate ourselves for all we do, large and small to reach the end of each day. Each of these days carries us through, creating and shaping our achievements.

Why Don’t I Like Her?

Posted on May 18, 2015 by janetgzinn

Ms. Garcia was fussy. She was tense and persnickety. She was one day old when I met her and addicted to meth. Understandably, she was not easily soothed.

Some of my best teachers were infants. There was a time years ago when I held babies at St. Luke’s Hospital in the nursery. It was a wonderful program initially created for newborns who were at risk for AIDS. But as crack grew to epidemic proportions, the program expanded to include drug-addicted infants. Most of the nurses were wonderful, but their work load was full, so they enlisted volunteers to help with the holding and feeding, giving the babies human touch when their families were unable to be there.

What I found fascinating about the infants was that instinctively they felt more comfortable in some arms rather than others. While Ms. Garcia would allow me to feed her, Mr. Brown did better in the arms of Cindy, one of the pediatric nurses. We all had our favorites. Because so many of the infants were taken from their mothers following the birth, they were referred to as Mr. and Ms. So & so since few had been named.

One important lesson the babies taught me is that we are drawn to some people and not others. Prior to that, I worked so hard to have others like me. I was not a popular kid. The more I tried to fit in, the further down the social ladder I fell. It never occurred to me to check in with myself to see if I liked them. So from the time I was in elementary school I measured my self-worth by the acceptance of others. Not a winning strategy.

The babies taught me to trust my instincts. To listen to the feelings I have when around others. We all come up with reasons why we don’t like one person, or why we like another. But what I saw in the hospital nursery was that the reasons came later to us. We like whom we like. We see it most in dating. I dated a lot in my twenties. I met a lot of people who were very nice, but I still wasn’t interested in them. When I asked, I would say, “he was boring,” or, “we didn’t have the same interests.” But the truth was, it just wasn’t right. Not because of our interests, that was incidental to my initial experience with the date.

As a psychotherapist this lesson has been invaluable. Since I see psychotherapy as a path back to trusting oneself, the relationship matters. When asked for recommendations, I suggest meeting with a few therapists so a potential client has a chance of getting a good feeling about their prospective therapist. This might be the first step in learning to trust themselves.

I learned to trust myself after working with the infants, observing how and with whom they bonded. I am grateful to the Misters and Ms.’s for this important lesson. The babies I held are in their twenties now. And I’m hopeful that they are returning to their natural state of being, in touch with their instincts. After all they gave freely and unknowingly, they deserve that, and so much more.

Mother’s Day, 2015

Posted on May 11, 2015 by janetgzinn

“We are all married to the same man.”

Judy Mannarino, Talented Artist, www.judymannarino.net

Mother’s Day is a day fraught with mixed emotions. We’re parents, but we’re not mothers. We wish to be mothers but we’re not. We’re mothers, but we wished we weren’t. We love our children, but we get frustrated sometimes. Our mothers are no longer here. Our mothers are here, but we’re not sure how we feel about that. We’re indebted, we’re sad, we’re expectant, we’re disappointed. We’re ambivalent.

This morning I woke up, took my shower and came into the living room/dining area when I saw a card and gift. For the first few years of motherhood, Larry, my husband, wasn’t aware that Mother’s Day meant something to me. I could say I taught him, but it would be more accurate to say I shamed him into buying cards and gifts for this very Hallmark holiday.

Today he bought me a perfect gift, a pair of high-end earbuds from Future Sonics. As a walker, good earphones make all the difference. My only issue was that he had already given me the exact same gift this past Hanukkah. I loved them then. I was neither generous of heart nor gracious when I opened the gift. I wish I could say I had a sense of humor about it. I did not. I was petty.

It’s been difficult these past few months, and I wanted an easy day. I felt hurt, and I shared that fact. I know I’m so fortunate to have a husband who wrapped a gift and made an effort, yet I felt deprived, sad, in some unexplained way. I went for a long walk. I bought some earrings as compensation. And, yet, yet, when I came home I wanted attention. Larry was preoccupied, and I again felt as if he hadn’t apologized for the gift, nor gone out of his way to make this day special for me.

He says that whatever he does isn’t good enough. And, I say that he doesn’t really go out of his way to think about what would be meaningful to me. It’s a lose/lose for both of us. One would think we could disengage from this cycle, but we don’t. I measure his love by his gifts, and he measures my love by my approval or disapproval.

By tonight can I see that I use him as a way not to face my own limitations. I had a beautiful day. I walked the city. And, I love New York. I came home, and he had helped with an email issue. He did the laundry. I am working on my inclination to lean towards deprivation rather than abundance. While working on this, I will say, today I was abundantly small-minded. Maybe, just maybe, soon I will be able to say I am abundantly grateful. Until then, I will employ patience, first with myself, and then with Larry, and, Emma, our daughter.

janetzinn

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Category Archives: mindfulness

Grief Shaming

The Last Word on The Marathon

To Run or Not to Run

Something for Nothing

Delayed Flight

My Shade of Gray

Tooting

Milestones

Why Don’t I Like Her?

Mother’s Day, 2015

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