A three-minute walk from our apartment stands a small lone cherry blossom tree. It’s located behind a dull brick building. On this seemingly empty city block the tree feels like a sign of hope. Hope that beauty can hold up in the face of asphalt and concrete.
As I walked on, I saw so many volunteers planting bulbs, clearing paths, and cleaning up both Carl Shurz and Central Parks. There is a friendly buzz among the volunteers as they give of their time and dedication to bring natural beauty to our city.
I am so grateful for the rare flowering tree on the curb side of the sidewalk. And how enchanting it is to walk through the parks and gardens that provide an abundance of natural splendor. The garden boxes on windows and the landscapes of certain buildings also provide color to our lives.
The city in springtime is a panoply of beauty, we just have to look to take in these delightful seasonal palates.
Self-Care Tips:
When outside, see if you can find and focus on new blooms. Notice how it feels to purposely take notice of what may have been background previously.
Bring flowers into your home. Do you like potted flowers or cut, or both? Where do you like to put them?
Find inspiration from this season. What might you enjoy now that’s different from other times of the year?
Life isn’t linear. I had always hoped I’d solve what I considered to be my problems, and then live a quality life. The truth is that we revisit issues time and time again. Even when we think we’ve beat it, it will show up unexpectedly. Perhaps it’s why the movie Groundhog’s Day resonates for so many of us.
We are trained early to think that we’ve failed if we have to repeat lessons. In school if we fail a grade, it must be repeated. We are not taught that relearning is nothing shameful. It would be much more helpful should we be told that repeating grades can be as useful as moving ahead. Can we learn that somethings bear repeating?
I have a difficult time learning steps. Dance classes did not come easily. I much prefer workouts that don’t include dancing. Yet, I love dancing on my own, when I can move my body to the music. In some cases, not on the beat, but with the mood rather than the tempo, I feel joyous. That joy is robbed when specific steps are introduced. I go into my head and my physical attunement goes out the door.
That doesn’t stop me from trying to learn. Luckily at this age I can laugh at my difficulties, at least as far as dancing is concerned. Of course, there are other lessons that I continue to struggle with, even if I understand what might help make it easier.
I put together a Seder for our small family. I didn’t over prepare. And I kept telling myself that I should write a list. I never did. I had forgotten to open the horseradish, which I then couldn’t find. I looked everywhere in the refrigerator. Larry kindly volunteered to go out and get a new jar. He had to walk a few blocks since we don’t live close to a food store. This all happened when we were about to begin our short Seder. During clean-up we found the horseradish on the counter where I left it to open it before the meal. Also, the spinach remained in the oven forgetting that, too.
It all worked out. We enjoyed the spinach yesterday. But I know myself. Through the years I’ve come to find that I am well-served keeping lists. Yet I refused to create one for Passover. The forgotten foods were a needed reminder that lists help me.
I will continue to face issues, big and small, that seemingly repeat again and again. While I used to berate myself for what I could or “should” know., now I am grateful that I can learn from ostensibly familiar mistakes. It may seem like the same old issue, but it is new in this never lived before time and space.
Self-Care Tips:
Try something that might seem difficult for you. See how it feels. Follow it by something that seems easy, and compare the sensations you experience, and the emotional response to what comes easy as opposed to what is more challenging.
Keep lists if you like. They are a terrific tool. It feels gratifying to cross thigs off your list as you complete them
When faced with a familiar life lesson, keep it in the present. In the same way you have never breathed that breath before, see if you can be in the moment with something that tends to take your mind into the past. Notice what is new or different in this
In my mind this weekend was filled with activity. I was going on long walks, I was starting to prepare for Passover, reading as research, writing, walking Lucy, finding items to give away, cooking for the week, and everything else that involves time and effort when not at work. I forget what is required to get so much done, especially when a nap is in order.
Even after over two years of a changed world due to the Coronavirus, I am still learning that I need more rest than I had a couple of years ago. That’s not exactly true. I probably needed more rest back then, but I thrived on the steady pace of work, perpetual plans, and a never-ending to-do list. Now, however, my to-do lists alone exhaust me. I aim to get so much done on the weekends, but I forget that I need more time to rest.
I am humbled by my limitations. They let me know that I am not super-human, I am simply human. I was never-super human. But due to my low self-esteem, I acted as if I had to justify my existance. To whom? I’m not even sure. Having high expectations for myself no longer serves me. Having realistic intentions helps me move forward towards my aspirations, slower than I’d like, but in the right direction.
My challenge is to continually adjust to the slower pace. I need to cooperate with the circumstances rather than going full steam ahead. I’ve learned that being busy may have suited my energy level at one time, but that is no longer the case. Leading a full life is not a series of crossing-off to-do list items. Full means being in the moment. Enjoying a sunset. Delighting in the spring flowers. Sharing meaningful conversations. Stopping to rest.
Self-Care Tips:
Rest. Your body and mind will thank you
When feeling overwhelmed, slow down. Take a moment to check in with yourself. If you’re able to take a break, do so. If not, be patient so that you can get through whatever is required of you.
Plan less. Having open times allows for creative thinking.
It was the summer of 1979. Thanks to a student loan I was in Paris studying French, which I didn’t retain and Art History, which I preserved with many future visits to museums. I felt so cosmopolitan sipping a café au lait while enjoying a freshly baked croissant before classes began. We sat at a café off of the Jardin du Luxembourg. Half the day was spent in classes. By afternoon I was walking for hours getting to know the city of lights.
Those were the highlights. Yet there was so much I didn’t know. Back in our dorm room we had a bidet. I was too insecure to ask how to use it or what it was for. I thought, since we were in a women’s dorm, that it was a douche. What I knew about douches I learned in Summer’s Eve commercials back in New Jersey. When my roommates from other college exchange programs asked if I knew how to use it. I lied. I said, “Yes.” Not knowing seemed as if it wasn’t an option for me.
As memorable as the summer of “79 was, I recall my insecurities as much as I remember the amazing gifts of that European summer. Over 40 years later and I still recall what my wonderful art history professor taught us every time I go on walks, recognizing the architecture. Or, appreciating a painting in a gallery or museum because of what she imparted in our classes and tours. I’m also currently enjoying the marvels of a bidet in our New York City apartment. It’s not a separate structure as it was in Paris. It’s attached to our toilet, a wonderful addition from Tushy. I use less toilet paper, reveling in the simplicity of continental hygiene. The focused stream of water cleans up beautifully.
I may now know what a bidet is and how I can use it effectively, but over the years I have learned to admit what I don’t know. I’d rather learn and grow than pretend that I’m more knowledgeable so someone else won’t judge me. We lose ground when we make believe we’re smarter than we are. I compromised my learning curve and the breadth of joy while in Paris because I couldn’t admit what I didn’t know. Thank goodness I know better now.
Self-Care Tips:
Think of something you have wanted to know or learn. Look it up. Or ask a friend about it. It feels nice to understand what we didn’t know before.
Make time to laugh. Do it purposefully. And laugh with abandon.
Be open to be inspired. Keep an open mind and go about your day. Whether you anticipate it from a known teacher, or whether it comes in an unexpected moment, being willing to be inspired is the open invitation to wonder and awe.
We just hit the two-year anniversary when our lives changed in unimaginable ways. At least most of us never imagined this. Although I had plenty of professional experience doing trauma work, that usually meant implementing tools to get through a time-limited traumatic event. We could count on the passage of time to dull the immediate impact of the trauma. This was much different. We had to live through uncertainty and constant change while continuing to navigate other, more personal hardships.
We found out we are resilient. We faced our vulnerabilities. There was acting out. And there were multitudes of kindnesses. Relationships were under a microscope. We lost friends and disconnected with family members. New friendships were forged. Old friendships were rekindled. More often than not, differences were highlighted. We experienced division. For some heartier individuals we worked through differences to find connection. In other cases, it was apparent hard work would not bridge the divide.
As for me, I am tired and grateful. The last two years wore me down. I also found unexpected gifts through walking, conversations, posts, and streaming. Life feels more precious, if also more tenuous. Spending less time with distractions it’s easy for me to see areas in need of growth. I can also better recognize a well-honed habit of self-criticism. I had thought I was further along on my spiritual journey. I was arrogant enough to think I actually knew what that looked like. But I am here, now, and it looks like this. Thank you for your part in accompanying me in this journey. I also appreciate you welcoming me on your journey. For my part, I couldn’t have done this alone.
Self-Care Tips
Be sure to thank those who have supported you. We all appreciate being thanked.
Smile when you feel inclined. We have missed smiles with masks on. And, if you are wearing a mask, smile. Remember, a true smile is in the eyes. Let that warmth melt someone else’s pain.
Review what lessons you’ve learned or how you’ve grown in the past two years. It’s important to acknowledge what you’ve been through.
I keep deluding myself into thinking I know the best formula for getting through these difficult times. I meditate twice daily. I make sure I don’t make plans more than once a week, except in special circumstances. I go for daily walks. I work. I try to make easy dinner a few times a week. I like doing all these things. While I’m doing them, I feel perfectly fine. But in other moments I am short-tempered. I am impatient. I long for more assistance. I understand how fortunate I am to have supportive people in my life. But we all need extra scaffolding, and since most of us are depleted, we have less inner resources from which to give.
When I get heated, lash out, or feel deflated, I know I am far from being balanced. I was never athletic, and I could barely do a cartwheel in gym class, but throughout school I felt comfortable on the balance beam. Not skilled, but able to stay upright. Now at a more advanced age, I feel at ease with balance stances on my yoga mat. But feeling steadied after a full day of work and a few minutes facing my to-do lists is not an available option these days. I am off-balance.
For months on end during the pandemic I was keen on regaining whatever balance I had before. That wasn’t working so I tried to find a new balance. Perhaps for some that’s a possibility, but I can only speak for myself, and I was nowhere near anything I could call balanced, beam or no beam. Now I’m not quite embracing the collective destabilizing forces, but I am doing what I can to live in it.
Yes, walking helps. True, carving out alone time makes a difference. Saying no when I don’t have the wherewithal. And saying yes when opening myself up to something out of my routine gives me renewed joy. All simple, but not always easy. I am grateful for laughter and art as balms in this uncertain storm. It allows me to come back to myself. A place in which I can be kind to myself and others, understanding most of us are a bit wobbly as we try to regain our footing.
Self-Care Tips:
Have a private Karaoke. Turn up a song and sing along loudly, releasing your inner artistic spirit.
Get a small plant while practicing loving discipline. Choose a commitment level by picking out a plant you can easily care for.
Read a short story. It gives you a sense of accomplishment without a long-term reading commitment.
Over fifteen years ago I organized a networking event for psychotherapists and others in related fields. I hosted it in my office garden and prepared a beautiful buffet of crudité and homemade dips and finger food. I received a lot of maybes, and about fifteen said they would attend. Of course, I over-estimated and prepared too much food. In the end I had five guests, two just stopped by.
It was an intimate event. The four of us were able to appreciate and understand what each of us offered clients, and it ended on a positive note. However, I was mortified that more people didn’t come. I was embarrassed for myself, and felt I let my colleagues down. It was challenging to stay focused with the other women who came. Instead I spent too much energy focusing on who wasn’t there.
It harkened back to parties in elementary school and junior high to which I was never invited. Or times when the red rope was not unhooked for me at Studio 54 and the Palladium. The rejection felt personal. I was not one of the chosen ones.
Since those times I realize I do better in small groups or one on one. I get too distracted at large parties. Yet, as I currently work on a book, mostly on odd weekends, I have been told by so many that I need a platform. That means that I must amass followers and readers. I always feel awkward when asking for others to read my work. Larry, my husband, may be the exception.
I like writing, but I don’t like marketing for myself. It feels too much like my 10-year-old-self asking to be liked. No, thank you. I will continue to create this book on getting through difficult times with self-care tips, slowly and painstakingly. I don’t know that I’ll get an agent or get it published. Nonetheless, I will proceed, trusting that I don’t need to be someone I’m not just to be popular. It is not in my best interest to consider numbers rather than you, dear reader.
Self-care Tips:
Affirm that you are enough. Write “I Am Enough” on post-its and place one on a corner of your bathroom mirror, and other places you view daily (inside a drawer, on your refrigerator door, etc.)
Learn a new song. It can be easier to remember things put to music. So learning a new song is a great way to exercise your brain.
Remind yourself that bigger is not necessarily better. When plans change and you have a smaller event (as in these past 18 months) find the sweetness in the intimacy of the experience.
As a young child I delighted in our Magnavox HiFi. I would sit on the scratchy green wool sofa in our den while listening to Rosemary Clooney. Her album, Rosemary Clooney Sings for Children with its pink background was a clear favorite. I loved the track, Betsy, My Paper Doll, because I was the lucky recipient of the Betsy McCall paper dolls hidden in the pages of my mother’s McCall’s Magazine. The other song that spoke to me was The Little Shoemaker because my father was in the shoe business. At six, it felt like Rosemary Clooney was singing to me personally. I hadn’t realized Rosemary Clooney was an icon until years later when I watched her sing with Bing Crosby in White Christmas on the Sunday Million Dollar Movie.
Recently I was reminded of that album while walking in Central and Carl Shurz Parks in this time of transition. On the grass are one- and two year-olds in a safely distanced semi-circle with their caregivers listening to Broadway level singers shaking egg instruments and leading the children in song. They are singing their hearts out to their young audiences who may or may not be singing along. Each performer grateful for any gig as theater crawls back from being dark.
How fortunate I was to have enjoyed the musical styling of a great songstress. And, how lucky these toddlers are to meet up with some of the best singers from around the country. It’s not clear if it’s simply a part of their activity schedule or if the family values the influence of music in our lives. Either way, I appreciate walking past them remembering the simple touch of my mother’s hand when placing the needle gently on the spinning album even when I asked to hear it again and again.
In addition to Rosemary Clooney, I heard Lena Horne, Harry Belafonte, Ray Charles, Bobby Darin, Julie Andrews, Judy Garland, and many more who allude my memory, crooning through our oak HiFi. On Sundays we listened to opera on the classical radio station. That’s when my grandparents visited. We all sat quietly on the same itchy green sofa or love seat. If we couldn’t be quiet, we had to go play in the basement. I favored Puccini and Mozart. The songs felt pretty to me. But not having an album cover to attempt to read was a limitation that had me go to the basement after an aria or two.
I’m not listening to enough music these days. It’s time to open-up iTunes and delight in Rosemary Clooney and friends.
Self-Care Tips:
Play music you used to enjoy. Take in the memories and notice how the songs and music impact you now
Take a walk and see what associations you conjure. What recollections come to mind?
Create new memories by sharing music with someone you respect. If possible, listen together. If you can’t, you can enjoy the association with the music.
This past week I posted a birthday wish for my 22-year-old child on FaceBook. So many share the downside of social media. And, yes, there are downsides, nonetheless, my most recent experience has been one of kindness and care. In the past I’ve been reunited with friends near and far with whom I had lost touch. Some have since passed away. And, social media, namely FaceBook, gave us a chance to reconnect, reminding us of the moments that have shaped us.
This past week I came out as a parent of a trans child. He has been out for years throughout the transition process. I stayed silent for the most part. I had much to learn from Alex and the community, and I didn’t feel ready to speak while I educated myself and grow as a parent, therapist and human. I have friends on FaceBook who share different religious beliefs. I have friends who live very different lifestyles than that of our urban world. Yet, the outpouring of love, support, care, and good will was extraordinary. I felt meaningful connections rather than disparity.
There are many times social media can seem like a window into a polished world. One in which I can find myself feeling a good deal of envy for milestones or experiences I haven’t achieved or may never know. It’s imperative that we live our own lives without measuring our successes based on others. Yet, I find that challenging, and often fall short. The responses to my most recent post remind me of the generous hearts far and wide.
Sadly, I can get caught up in the behavior of annoying strangers or hateful acts in the news. It’s easy to feel despairing of humankind. However, when I take in the love shared, I am filled with the healing power of kindness. My friends and family have reminded me that thoughtfulness is natural for most of us, and it always behooves me to live in that truth. I will endeavor to focus on the good will I see. And when I stray, much as my thoughts can stray in meditation, I will bring myself back to the reality of pervasive good will.
I’ve been confused. I thought I knew myself. Instead, who I knew was a woman who was highly influenced by the world around me. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, it just wasn’t representative of the totality of me. We’ve all been there. Whether we’re enticed by a product commercial, or whether we want to join in on experiences with those who surround us, we make choices based on an outside influence. Sometimes this works to our advantage. I’ve visited beautiful places based on recommendations. I’ve also spent a good amount of money on things I didn’t need, and ultimately didn’t want.
There are some things that have been a constant. I knew what I liked, theater, work, blueberry crumb muffins. I knew what I didn’t like, loud noises like relentless car horns in stuck traffic, or people who take up the entire sidewalk making it impossible to pass. Nothing has changed on those fronts. I have noticed that I like a lot more now, though, than my previous short list.
I like my garden much more than in the past. I’m enjoying it more, too. I’m a squeamish gardener at best. For some reason getting my hands dirty is not fun for me. For instance, as much as I love lobster, I am no fan of pulling it apart to secure the tender meat. But choosing flowers and enjoying a small and rare patch of green in the city is as good as it gets while I find my way back into the larger world.
I’m also much more appreciative of the small things. Kindness, whether from a friend who reaches out, or a stranger who keeps a door open, mean so much to me. I am grateful for Alex’s late night texts filled with bad jokes, and lots of love. I am grateful that Larry washed the dishes last night after a long day at work. He did it without me asking, or even before I could complain that I had one more thing to do.
There are many things that I would not have known about myself had the world not changed drastically. Surprisingly, birds have been nice to see. In the past I appreciated the bright red cardinals I’d pass, but I was nonplussed by other avian varieties. Now, when walking in the park I look up to see all sizes and colors of birds, enjoying the brief siting as I move through the now leafy spaces. Most importantly to me, I’m not missing the many activities that defined my evenings. I assumed I’d be bored if I did less. Not so. I am better rested. I feel more grateful. Letting go feels easier.
An unexpected benefit of this time of Coronavirus is being untethered from much of the external influences. Other than Netflix, along with other cable programming, choices are limited. That’s helped me and others make choices that feel personally authentic. It allows for a freedom we didn’t know possible. Our worlds grew smaller, and our hearts expanded.
Self-Care Tips:
Find something in your drawers you forgot you have but brings a smile.
Take a private moment to enjoy something that is fun for you, it could be dancing alone, singing in the shower, or drawing. It doesn’t matter if you’re good at it or not.
janetzinn 