Tag Archives: mindfulness

Hurt by Half, The Thirty-Sixth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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I was ten years old.  The person who I had considered my best friend was in the Stafford School auditorium with her class, and I was with my class for a school-wide assembly.  Assemblies felt important.  Usually the principal spoke.  He was a tall, somber man who communicated in hushed tones lending an atmosphere of solemnity to childhood gatherings.  

I was nervous.  I had called the friend a few times and she never came to the phone I racked my brain for what I might have said or done to cause her avoidance.  It hurt me to the core.  I was not a popular girl and her purposeful neglect threatened my fragile sense of self.  

When I gently approached her with hopeful steadiness, after going back and forth as to what I might say, I said, “I hope we can play sometime.”
My warbly voice betrayed my erect posture.  Immediately, and without looking at me, she said, “Janet, get off my back.”    

My shoulders slumped and I followed my class to my seat as she stepped in single file to sit with her classmates.  I was devastated.  Yes, I had huge needs.  I was lonely and could be clingy.  But did I deserve that treatment?  At the time I thought I did.  I reviewed our friendship and thought of all the times I said something that got her mad.  I thought of all the ways I had desperately done what she wanted so we could play together.  I had lost a friend and I was blaming myself for that loss.  Even if it wasn’t a healthy friendship, I liked having a playmate.  

We often multiply our suffering by two.  First, we go through something difficult.  Then we fault ourselves for the hardship imaging all the ways we might have avoided it.  I’m not saying it’s not useful to see our contributions to what we go through, but there’s a difference between learning a lesson and being cruel to ourselves in the perceived service of getting over the hurt.  

What if we fold in compassion?  It won’t make the difficulties disappear, but it will reduce our suffering if we can be kind and caring to ourselves while enduring hardship.  I may have been hurt at age 10 by my ex-friend’s thoughtless response, but I carried it with me far longer than the quick exchange in the auditorium.  Nonetheless, in the 50 plus years since that time, I have been able to learn and not feel the deep shame of my childhood when I do say or do something that is not a match to a given moment.  

It may take practice to be self-compassionate.  It’s not a get-out-of-jail-free card.  It’s more of an embrace when feeling trapped.  Age and perspective help, as does patience.  And having the ability to tolerate hard feelings makes a huge difference when we’re going through something rough.  I suppose that experience was one of many exercises in building tolerance for managing difficulties.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • When going through something difficult, see what you need.  Soothe yourself with soft fabrics, clothes, sheets, or a piece of fabric to rub.  Or find music that matches your mood.  Move in ways that feel expressive.  Use your senses to bring calm.  
  • Take an electronic pause.  Read a hardback or a paperback book.  Walk without a device.  Take in the scenery.  People watch rather than viewing a screen.  
  • Walk with a friend.  You can share a view rather that drinks or a meal.  

Labor Day Weekend, The Thirty-Fifth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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When I was growing up summer was always book ended by the academic year’s completion in June and a new school year following Labor Day.  In between were hot days at camp, or at home in the backyard under the sprinkler, with regular trips to Hidden Lake or the Haddontown Swim Club for substantial wet reprieve from the beating sun.  

Here we are at this 2023 summer’s finale on this Labor Day weekend.  The air is cooler as if a declaration that summer is at its end.   In my teen and preteen years I would have been working at my father’s shoe store ringing up saddle shoes for the cheerleaders, parochial oxfords for local children attending Catholic schools, and Buster Browns for the public elementary school crowd. 

There was anticipation in the air.  We went to Korvettes or Grants to load up on school supplies, including Lego-sized sharpeners for our number 2 pencils.  Figuring out what to wear on the first day was a pressing matter after first grade.  Oh, how I loved my plaid wool skirt, with red fringe and a large gold-plated safety pin as an adornment.  It was worn with a Danskin ribbed turtleneck, and red tights that never stayed up, causing me to waddle home at the end of that first day.  I didn’t care.  I loved that 60s fashion trend.  

Now in my 60s, I appreciate those memories, and miss the clear delineation of seasons as signified by the school year.  Time now is not marked by classes and tests.  The year is of my making.  Though I appreciate the freedom that allows, I do wax nostalgic for the endless summers and the structure of school in session.  

As I let go of this summer and welcome Autumn in all its glory, I hope you, too, can enjoy sweet memories while relishing the transformative Fall season.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Give yourself a break.  If you have a “should” for this weekend or week, pause to see if it must get done, or whether you can put the “should” on pause and do something restful and/or fun instead.  
  • Learn a new word, and when possible, use it.   I can recommend “WordDaily.com. However, there are a good number of vocabulary apps and sites.  This week featured the word “Disembogue,” meaning a river or stream flowing into the sea or a larger river.  
  • Delete unwanted or unused app or apps from your phone.  Or you can unsubscribe from  mailing-lists you find annoying.  Letting go of the junk emails, and ignored apps can feel like a reset.  

Mundane Day, The Thirty-First Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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What am I doing this weekend?  Nothing special and everything essential.  In an Instagram world of glamourous posts, my weekend is the antithesis of awesome.  I started early to ensure I could easily access the washing machines needed for the weekly laundry.  Luckily for me, it was a ghost town before 7 am, and I peacefully and quietly secured my machines and loaded them from the full hampers.  

After I put the laundry in the dryer, bringing the hang-dry bag up to the apartment to, you guessed it, hang dry, I took Lucy out for a walk before the sun was beating too strongly on the sidewalks.  It’s pleasant enough, but the humidity still clung in-between my skin and my summer cottons. 

Then I ran some errands.  I was at the post office, which was empty due to it being the first summer since the pandemic in which everyone is running to escape the city on weekends.   Thank you, travelers, it’s so nice to enjoy a quiet corner of the city for a change.  Next was a stop at the local farmers’ market.  It seemed as if everyone who stayed in the city was buying up produce and baked goods.  The lines were long.  Some shoppers have routines in which they step in and out of line yet don’t communicate so those of us partially-patient while waiting are to assume they had a place somewhere and are now happy to go in front of us to procure their staples. 

I got enough sleep last night and Lucy was set with treats, so I felt less agitated by those farmers’ market patrons.  Sometimes, though, I can get annoyed. It was nice to have skipped over my reactivity this morning.  Carrying my load, Lucy and I took the short walk back home.  From there it was time for food prep.  There’s something straightforward about cutting fruit and chopping vegetables.  

Boring days like today are necessary to get through our lives.  However, it’s only boring as a story.  While ticking off these daily chores, it’s nice to accomplish small tasks.  It’s satisfying to finish one small project and then the next.  I was never bored.  In fact, I appreciated the quiet time getting everything done.  The mundane is not necessarily dull.  

Self-care tips:

  • The next time someone asks, “What’s new?”  See if you can easily and proudly share what you’ve been up to without having to exaggerate or only speak of the highlights.  
  • Find the extraordinary in the ordinary.  Often little things make a big difference.  
  • Find something that combines humor and art.  It could be poetry, fine art, a film, literature, or another type of artistry.  It’s so much fun to laugh and be inspired simultaneously.  It could be a Charlie Chaplin film, a Dorothy Parker poem, a Victor Borge video, any Judy Holliday movie, or choose something that suites your particular sense of humor.  

Optical Illusion, The Thirtieth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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I was out for an early walk to beat the heat.  Ahead of me I could see a large pile of dog excrement, and my mind went on a rampage.   I got angry at the unknown dog walker or owner who was selfish at best, and a menace to our neighborhood, as far as I was concerned.  I righteously congratulated myself on my dog etiquette and my thoughtfulness in always making sure I have enough bags and I clean up after Lucy.  I railed at the many dog owners in the city who don’t think of others, which then got me on a mental rant about those who let their dogs go leashless in the parks and on the sidewalks.  I had really worked myself up by the time I passed what I thought was poop but turned out to be an errant dark sock.  

My condemnation of others and the easy assumption of others’ guilt based on an unsubstantiated conjecture was fascinating to me.  How had I become so judgmental so quickly?  What has happened that I assume the worst in others rather than think the best of them?  I know there have been times when I was misunderstood, and the worst was thought of me.  It is not a good feeling.  So, why am I making that same mistake?  

I seem to have selective grace for others.  I judge those I don’t know.  Or I make fast determinations when I’m uncomfortable with my own thoughts and feelings.  Sure, I, like most New Yorkers do not take kindly to those who don’t pick up after their dogs.  But not liking something as opposed to working myself up into a tither are very different sets of circumstances.  

When I get upset that quickly about perceived slights, then I know I need to take a step back to assess what might really be upsetting me.  And, if I find there’s nothing in particular that’s distressing, then I know I may be tired, hungry, or burnt out.  Luckily, I had the rest of my walk to discover what was underneath my rant.  And, even more fortuitous, I was able to get a nap in so that I didn’t spend the remainder of the day tied up in knots.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • When you get agitated quickly, take a breath, and check in with yourself to see if there is an unmet need, such as nourishment, more sleep, down time, connection, or anything else.  Have compassion for yourself, no matter your previous reaction, and see if it’s possible to provide what is needed.  
  • Check out Tony Bennett on YouTube, whether it’s his classics or the many duets he sang.  The videos can be mood changers.
  • Make someone’s day.  Thank those who you encounter during regular daily business hours and beyond.  Give thanks to cashiers, sanitation workers, postal workers, anyone who is kind enough to hold a door, caregivers of others, wait staff, and whoever you see providing a service.  

Lost in Brooklyn, The Twenty-Ninth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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I set out to go to The Brooklyn Museum to see the Africa Fashion exhibit.  I had intended to see it twice before but got waylaid, so my determination to get there yesterday was fierce.  My plan was to slowly jog in Prospect Park getting out at the arch and walking the few blocks to the museum.  Once I made it to Prospect Park at an unfamiliar entrance, I opened up Maps on my iPhone and set off.  

I had slung a string backpack over my shoulder with my knee braces for the run as well as an umbrella for the unpredictable weather.  After securing my knees in place with the braces, I left the bench and turned back to the Maps app.  I was curious. Though not so familiar with Brooklyn, I would have thought I should go right on the drive rather than the left the app instructed me to take.  With a momentary pull of doubt, I started off on my slow jog, sun unexpectedly shining, bearing left on the path towards the drive. 

In just over a mile I was instructed to leave the park.  I was surprised I had been so close when the app indicated that I was miles away.  When I exited, I was nowhere near anything familiar, but I ended my run and continued on my journey walking to the museum.  Ninety minutes later, past a huge cemetery, on the edge of Prospect Heights, then into Fort Greene, ending in Gowanus, right by the newly constructed business area by the Gowanus Canal.  This was nowhere near the Brooklyn Museum.  Perhaps there was a Brooklyn Museum section of the Design Within Reach store that was where the app stated was my destination.  Ah, the limits of technology.  

I enjoyed seeing the new construction and the warehouse spaces that were a contemporary take on a Brooklyn aesthetic.  There were places to shop, and places to eat.  Young business people came and went, coffee in hand, trying to finish out their work week.  By the time I sat in an industrial style courtyard there, I wasn’t sure if I should just head home, or if I should circle back and view the exhibit.  

Hot, sweaty, and tired, I trudged to the closest subway station, still uncertain whether I was returning to Manhattan or finally seeing the month-old fashion show on display.  In the end I transferred to the IRT 2 train and got off in front of the museum.  I was disheveled yet determined.  I showed my ticket and made it in.  

It was less crowded than expected.  Good for me, as I could take my time and enjoy the beauty of the craftsmanship and the artistry.  I was not disappointed.  It spoke of history, joy, and cultural pride with all 54 African countries represented in one or more ways.  And, though my tour through Brooklyn was two hours more than expected, it is true of this weekend, that all’s well that ends well.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • The next time you get lost, rather than spend your time trying to get back on track (unless someone needs you to be somewhere on time), look to see what is around you and take in the unexpected surroundings.
  • If you’re in or around Brooklyn, take a look at the Africa Fashion exhibit.  It is inspired.  
  • Try something new.  It could be listening to a new artist, trying a food or dish you normally don’t eat.  It could be meeting someone new, reading something not familiar to you.  Whatever it is, see what you learn about the subject, and/or about yourself.  

Ai Instillation, The Twenty-Eighth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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I was tired, it was hot, and I was happy to be at MOMA, the Museum of Modern Art, on West 53rd Street.  The galleries were crowded, but I took my time enjoying new exhibitions and old favorites. After the slow perusal of four floors, I was spent.  But I still had almost an hour before our dinner reservation down the block.  

Lucky for me there’s an AI instillation that is a moving abstract representation, a curiously, animated piece, of the museum’s art collection. There are seats and cushions to view the instillation.  Fortunately I snagged a seat when a gentleman, probably my age, got up next to me.  I sat there mesmerized by this unusual data-infused screen.  

It was hypnotic.  The colors change constantly creating an unreal, but oddly familiar, explosion of hues.  It’s not quite like spattered paint, but more like a constantly morphing puff of colors that mimic what I imagine virtual clouds might look like.  It certainly held my gaze for just under an hour.  And, rather than exhaust me further, I found the piece to be uplifting.  

I was surprised that I enjoyed an AI instillation.  It may not be as inspirational as the Georgia O’Keefe exhibition on the third floor.  Nor was it as moving as the Van Goghs, or as stirring as the vast photography collection, but it held my gaze longer than even Monet’s Waterlily room.  The 24-by-24-foot instillation is called Unsupervised.  Rakif Anadol, the artist who conceived the piece, has used AI in his cutting-edge artwork for many years.  

I’ve been dismissive of AI.  I’m dubious of the impact to the arts.  But while I sat there mesmerized, I could see how AI can stand next to other modes of art.  Perhaps it can expand our minds.  Nonetheless, I will always want to go back to the fine and performing arts in which humans display their infinite creativity to uplift our souls.    

Self-Care Tips:

  • Look up an AI version of something you appreciate and see how it makes you feel.  You may be surprised how you respond. 
  • Do an art project.  It can be watercolors, a drawing, or dance to music, sing, play a piece of music.  Find a fun, creative outlet that you enjoy.  
  • Write a short thank you note to yourself for something you appreciate.  You can thank yourself for remembering something, or for your thoughtfulness.  We are told to practice gratitude, and here’s a chance to be grateful to and for yourself. 

Bickering, The Twenty-Seventh Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

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My son told me last weekend that he hoped he won’t have disagreements in his relationships like I have with my husband when he’s older.  It was interesting to hear, and as far as I understand he believes that with the amount of therapy, mindfulness practice, as well as the fact that I am a psychotherapist, I should be further along in my personal development, especially when it comes to my marriage.  There was a time I would have agreed.  I would have seen my defensiveness when my feelings are hurt, and that my feelings get hurt at all, as a fault in my character.  

I am not proud that I bicker easily, or that I am quick to react, but I am no longer ashamed that both are true.  Like Alex, I imagined that when I was in my sixties I would have life figured out.  I believed I’d be highly advanced in my communications, and I’d be able to easily respond with patience and self-reflection.  The truth is I am still learning.  I have more acceptance of the bickering, appreciating that our marriage has the strength to encompass unpleasant moments.  However, more time is needed to learn to have a sense of humor about myself, to find ease when I want recognition and appreciation, and to accept that my way is not the only way.  

In our twenty-six years of marriage Larry and I have been able to spend less time upset with one another. Repair is quicker and easier.  And we laugh a lot more together.  I am proud of that growth.  We married later in life, but we came together with much to learn about healthy relationships.  And we continue to learn.  Every conflict is a new opportunity.  

I appreciate Alex’s comment because it allows me to see how it looks from his perspective.  I can only imagine the impact our bickering caused him unable to escape it in his earlier years in our compact apartment.  Presently his opinion and my response to conflict allows me to find acceptance with the imperfections of being human.  Being a therapist does not mean I’m immune to familial disagreements.  It means that I am committed to learning and growing one quarrel at a time.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Take the same short walk three different ways.  Walk looking ahead on one walk.  Walk looking up.  And walk looking down.  How different are these walks covering the same ground?  This can be a metaphor for our memories.  Though we may remember the same experience, when we are in a different place in our lives, we might view it in a new way.  
  • When you have a disagreement, rather than seeing what is wrong with the other person, ask yourself what you need to feel at ease.  This way you address a need rather than trying to be right or change someone else. 
  • Take an analog and digital break.  Read a book or magazine, hand write in a paper journal, paint with watercolors, play with a real deck of cards, play a board game, knit, play ball, or find a concrete activity off-screen.    

Maine, The Twenty-Sixth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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Summers are not as warm in Maine as they are in New York City.  The air is fresh with ocean mists and the sun has been shy peeking out from the fog on this visit. We came to Portland to visit friends, enjoy lobster in any number of ways, and walk the charming streets in this compact city.  

The beauty of the coast is something else.  Cliffs making way to crashing waves is beautiful from the high land.  I imagine it was devastating for sailors of the past who found the shore inhospitable.  

Larry’s and my love of traveling together began over 27 years ago on a road trip through Maine.  We loved seeing the varying coastline, the New England inns that offered warmth and pure hospitality.  Of course, lobsters featured throughout that trip.  It is nice to be back.  And, even better to be back to enjoy it with our friends.  It was a gift to see how they built a home and a community in this wonderful place.  And they shared their love for Portland with us.  Their hearts are generous, and we are such fortunate recipients of their munificence. 

Taking this short trip reminds me again of the goodness in people, and the pleasure in leaving home to open my mind and my heart.  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Send an old friend a hand-written note.  It’s so nice to connect with someone who has made a difference in your life.  If you can’t see them in person a note or letter feels good when sending it and they enjoy receiving it.  
  • Introduce new herbs and spices into your food, and/or into your garden.  I just tried lovage for the first time and it had a unique yet familiar taste to it.  
  • We’re always told to go out of our comfort zones.  Instead, give yourself some time to create a comfort zone for yourself that is cozy and safe.  Know you can always go there when needed, no matter how many times you leave.  

Rest & Activity, The Twenty-Fifth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal

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It was a muggy day in the city.  I went to bed late and gave myself the luxury of resting in bed yesterday morning.  There was a lot to do, but my body craved relaxation, and rather than rush to place my feet on the floor, I lingered under the sheets, enjoying the ease of a restful morning.  

I’m usually a doer.  At some point in my development I got the message that being lazy was not a good thing.  I made a point of being busy. Rather than being busy when necessary and resting when needed, I seemed intent on proving I wasn’t lazy.  However, I had ongoing  jealousy for those who enjoyed life doing less.  That seemed impossible to me.  Thankfully, post-Covid, I have come to see the value in proper rest.  

Though I still have a long way to go to unwind the belief that one must be busy, I am glad that yesterday morning I could enjoy a restful dawning of the day.  It allowed me to find the energy early in the afternoon to go on a short jog.  It’s been a year since I’ve been able to run due to a sprained ankle.  Even though I knew that long distance running was part of my past, I’m aware that I really enjoy running as an ongoing activity.  So, I put on my ankle brace along with two knee braces, and I set out to run for a mile on East End Avenue asphalt.

Asphalt is easier on the joints and fairly level, which makes for a safer run.  It felt so nice to run.  Albeit I’m slower with less energy than last year.  But it was the act of running that felt freeing.  I look forward to running again today.  Luckily, I had a great night’s sleep, so I’m well rested for today’s slow jog.  And, after that?  Maybe a nap. 

Self-Care Tips: 

  • What activity or experience is pure joy, so much so that you lose track of time?  How do you feel thinking about it?  When you have a chance, try diving into the activity.  If there isn’t an opportunity, think about it for a moment and take note of how you feel while basking in that memory. 
  • Reflect on your week and make a note of anything that went better than expected?  Are you able to have gratitude for the better-than-anticipated experience?  If so, take a moment to be with that gratitude.  
  • Check in with your body.  Do you have an abundance of energy?  If so, do something physical to optimize that energy burst.  If not, take a moment (or more, if possible) to relax, letting your body know you’re listening.  

Fathers Day, The Twenty-Fourth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal

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Happy Father’s Day.  When I say that it conjures up so much for me and for so many others, I expect you included.  Many of us have had varied relationships with our fathers nothing like Father Knows Best, The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, Blackish, or even Home Improvement.  If only we could tune in for 30 minutes a week and enjoy the comical moments that focus on the highlights of the best parts of them, with a little silly thrown in.  

My dad was king when it came to bad dad jokes.  I would groan, embarrassed I had a dad who would even say “Don’t bother. Everything looks good this way,” every time I offered to clean his overly-smudged spectacles.  Larry, though fastidious with his eyewear, has taken on the torch of bad dad jokes.  Usually they’re groaners, but once in a while they make us laugh.  Maybe he’s not comedy ready, but the few good ones could be included in a non-existent situation comedy.  

Whatever our experience is with our dads, good, difficult, sad, troubled, no one is one dimensional.  I will always appreciate my father for working in his shoe store at age twelve and thirteen, my second job following babysitting.  I learned how to work the cash register, count backwards to give proper change, and people watch.  I could see when finances were tight, and the family was spending money they didn’t have to get back-to-school shoes for their children.  We always made sure they got a small toy to go with their purchase.  Of course, Buster Brown customers, the families who could afford new shoes for Autumn, in addition to maryjanes for special occasions, would get a molded replica of Tige, Buster Brown’s dog, or some other brand trinket.  

I recognized the lonely ladies who had difficult feet to fit who came in to find their next slip-ons, even though they would go home with nothing.  My dad worked as hard for them as any of his customers, even as he knew he needed to make his sales to keep his business afloat.  

I learned about hard work, and I learned about the unfairness of life while helping him out at the store.  I also learned how to clean a rug with an overused, old vacuum cleaner.  All valuable life lessons.  

Sometimes our dads inspire us to reparent ourselves.  Their best might not have been best for us.  So we muddle on learning from our mistakes, and theirs, so we can learn to care for ourselves better, as well as others others, if possible.  

Larry is a loving father.  He made sure that Alex benefitted from his music connections to see special shows and concerts.  He learned to love gently and learned acceptance as our son transitioned to a young trans man.  

Parenthood can be a lesson for all of us no matter who our fathers are or were, or even in their total absence.  Parenting is an ongoing process of love, patience, humility, joy, fear, sadness, awe, grief, and so much more.  But isn’t that true of all of life?  

Self-Care Tips:

  • Make a list of what you’ve learned from your father, good, bad or otherwise.  See how that imperfect relationship has shaped you. See if you are able to be grateful for something he/they brought to your life. 
  • Being caring to yourself today.  Reparent yourself in a way that embodies the parent you need at this time.  
  • Laugh.  It can be something dumb like a dad joke, but enjoy a moment of levity today.