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I read the following passage from a colleague: My research has gotten me thinking about how burnout has shown up in my own life, and in those of my colleagues. One definition felt particularly useful in helping me to discriminate between stress and burnout - “stress is having too much. Too many tasks, too many working hours, too many responsibilities. Burnout is having too little. Too little energy, too little motivation, too little care for the work you do.” As a clinician, I can absolutely relate to the experiences of “too much” that are associated with stress- too many back-to-back sessions, unsigned notes, phone calls to be returned. However, this kind of stress - even chronic stress - does not necessarily lead to burnout. During the pandemic I really had myself fooled.  Because I never got Covid until Winter 2023, I thought I had special powers.  I was in high demand from a young adult and teen population that I never dreamed would need my particular services.  Leaning into it, I thought, I finally made the grade.  It turns out I was only feeding a very hungry tiger (Tiger is my Chinese zodiac - as well as my daughter's).  The tiger wanted more and more of what I was good at: giving, supporting and nurturing.  So why not do more?  Also note it was only the second time in my life I made a decent wage other than my stint in the Internet world (dot-com bubble we called it).  Then that burst.  I found myself in an enviable position: turning away work faster than I was getting it.  As the demand increased even more, I just went on -- what else was there to do? At last I had found my groove only there was one piece missing - me!  So cheesy, I know.  Self-care was for others.  My advise was stale as yesterday's bread.  So what I trained to become a Yoga teacher.  So what I got a certificate in Trauma Studies.  Or as my therapist would tell me, "having more patients doesn't make you a better therapist."  I soldiered on. Now it was post-pandemic and I hadn't made any changes, au contraire, I had adopted a robotic way of life, relying heavily on routines until I couldn't bear it any longer.  I invented small trips, even errands, to get out of the house.  I took up pickleball.  At my age, things are starting to ache more.  So this felt like a grand effort.  For every pickleball match I would need a day off to rest my quadriceps.  Who knows if my legs hurt because of a statin (I was told), or due to some unforeseen aging process?  Because my husband has had years of chronic pain issues, I was in utter oblivion about my own slog toward old age.  Wake up calls started coming.  Sleeplessness, anger, irritability, resentment, and just plain worry.  My anxiety (especially around driving) went through the roof.  My friends started saying, you're always working.  But the real wake up came when my clients started asking, don't you ever take a vacation?!  Summer, I said.  In Summer I most definitely will.  But how does Summer help me now, in darkest February? Putting off my own self-care, not recognizing even the need, denying my own burn-out got me to a place of constant low-grade dissatisfaction.  My friends were traveling whilst I was still working on this ever-present, long-ass, never-ending to-do list.  My kids said, Mom, your whole life is one long to-do list.  I even told my therapist I needed a break, as I was sick of my own complaints.  So self-care is more than a manicure.  It's making difficult changes right now.  Changing your work hours, taking on new challenges (in my case, more Supervision, fewer Client Hours).  And personal changes too - not just getting my butt to the gym but taking time off, connecting with old friends, even dedicating a day to just wander around without a plan.  I found I could only read for spans of 45mins - the length of a session!  I found when on the phone with friends I couldn't form sentences, so tired was I from talking all day.  Finally I decided to up my game, invest in myself, look for ways of getting passive income.  I can go to the beach too!  I can do things too!  No more poor me.  More leaps of faith, which made me more resilient throughout my life.  My life was not what I bargained for.  Whose is?

In therapy 3's are dangerous.  The potential for triangulation is rife.  Three means exclusion, secrets, pairs and pains.  Like the original three (mom, dad, baby), or in religion; jealousy or competition.  I learned a hard lesson about three many years ago when two of my friends "boxed me out" because of some nonsense with the kids.  I was mortified.  It took me years to get over it.  I still get nauseous when I see them out together, so I can only imagine how a teenager must feel, seeing friends on social media without even an invitation. My client yesterday informed me that this very thing had happened. She marched right up to those girls and demanded, why was I not included?  I don't think I would have had the guts to do that in high school. Then again, we didn't have exclusive, hierarchical  "friend groups."  You were free to float to your heart's content, and that worked well for me. As a social creature, I could manipulate things so that groups overlapped and I was never too lonely.  It worked as an insurance plan against feeling left out.  Why being on your own is so awful, it's hard to say.  I wasn't particularly bothered about being alone at times in my life.  In fact, I think I'm the rare exception - I could be an introvert or an extrovert on many occasions.  But knowing you were deliberately left behind is surely torture.  As my 10th grade client from an affluent suburb said, "I looked like I had no friends."  What does that mean?  Why does it matter what it looks like? Kids really and truly think that people are watching them.  It's no wonder they're upset and paranoid. Three came up in another instance in my work with a younger child, a middle schooler.  I had been working with this highly verbal and precocious child for close to two years.  Whenever I suggested we were done, she insisted, no-- call me next Wednesday.  Here was a kid who was being asked by her mom to be a kind of investigator-in-training against dad, and his problems.  She could describe in minute detail his every move, whether at home or out at a party.  How many drinks he had, how many times he went to the restroom, how many times he lost his balance, where he hid his keys, etc. "She's good at it," said mom.  The kid is 12!!  Do you think this job contributes to her anxiety? (I wondered rhetorically).  Now I'm the detective. Finally, after several weeks of me not sleeping, I asked the mom, with whom I have a relationship, could we have a family meeting.  "I'm too stressed out," she replied.  "I can't nail him down," she replied.  On my third attempt, she blew me off completely.  I asked the child permission to reach out to dad.  Upon calling him, and putting him at ease, I explained my concerns.  By elevating the child to the triangle she essentially was too scared to do anything but her mother's bidding. By alerting the dad, he spoke with her and alleviated her responsibilities in this regard.  "You're fired!" he said to her.  With my help, he also told her, if it happens again, simply say, I can't do it anymore, I'm busy.  When I next talked to her, she was beyond relieved.  It was as if she was experiencing childhood again.  She was taken out of triangulation and put squarely into 7th grade again.  Let the dyad work it out.  And note to therapist/self: do not wait to engage parents when you get a red flag.  Soon you'll be triangulated if you don't!

The year we spent in China was life-altering.  We learned to rely on each other in very specific ways, my husband for his stature (holding doors for me as the throng of Chinese pressed us forward), and me for a few musical talents (singing the language was paramount).  We zigged and zagged and became stronger for it.  The yin/yang of our marriage carried us through many a rough patch, and continues to provide some emotional safety in the balance of years.  But what if my story was different.  A parallel universe in which I made different choices and relied on different rules.  Narratives in therapy mean a lot.  It gives us the opportunity to re-write our histories, and offer ourselves a little grace for the wrong turns.  Because our memories somehow favor novelty, bad things seem to envelope us more than ordinary goodness. It's the big things that seem to define us, but the little things matter too. What if as the child of a Publisher I went on to work in the world of books and new media (which I did for a time), became an editor, met someone placid and benign.  We would buy a house with a white picket fence, produce 2.5 kids and a dog, then do all the right moves as we aged in place.  I would have worked out my abandonment (by my narcissistic father) issues earlier and taken fewer risks, spent time with the kids, gone on more vacations, and had nicer knives.  Instead, because of my husband's creative and entrepreneurial spirit, and his derailing spinal fusion surgery, however, we mostly did not afford those kinds of luxuries.  There were many ups and downs, such as the devastating loss of my mother to cancer at the age of 63, and I had to reinvent myself again and again to stay afloat.  Instead of telling myself it's better that my mom didn't see 9/11 or Oct. 7th or a tragic family loss - I tell myself: it's not better when you lose the one and only person in your corner. I leaned into what I was good at. Then came the pandemic.  Never before was I so in demand as an experienced therapist to teens and young adults.  Like Lisa DaMour, I counseled hundreds of young girls to gain more motivation and resiliency.  It worked!  I developed a style that was relatable, not preachy or condescending, but encouraging and calm.  Not knowing what to call this, I simply became the nice lady who had a busy practice and was gaining traction.  My husband claims he encouraged me to do it, even when I doubted myself.  I kept changing with the changing landscape.  I joined every panel and peer group.  I was good with computers (not so good with paper).  I also grasped a whole new level when I started educating myself about trauma. I'm worried about aging out of relevance.  As a cusp Boomer, I am getting closer to the time when things wind down.  But what else would I do now?  Yes more travel, more pickleball.  More time with friends. Less time glued to screens.  But until I really know when to stop, I just keep swimming.  My story isn't finished.  I can still be a success. I can still write the final chapter. Our kids exceeded all expectations.  I am grateful for my husband's faith in my abilities.  He saw it when I couldn't. I always say to him, you're the smart one, figure it out!  For some reason, now, it comes down to me.  I have to figure it out. I struggled with feelings of inadequacy, insecurity, depression, trauma, anxiety and panic, particularly in my early 20s.  Yet perhaps I did something right.  It's never too late to shine. Happy Year of the Wood Dragon. 新年快乐 Xīnnián kuàilè

Going through your younger years in isolation from peers and family is the ultimate loneliness.  When young people tell you I didn't leave my apartment in NYC for EIGHT months, do you have any idea what that means?  Do you understand the concepts of fear, friendship and failure?  Imagine yourself going through that.  I honestly can't.  I rely on my friends for kindness, support, connection and advice.  I rely on my family for social and spiritual continuity.  If you have no narrative of your life, who are you?  You cannot be defined by loneliness.  Loneliness has to be a passing phase but it's also been defined by the surgeon general as an epidemic. When a teen's mother is listening in on or interrupting the sessions, you can be there are boundary issues. When a teen's father is drunk at a stadium and can't get the kids home, you can bet there's an alcohol problem. When a teen's family doesn't allow any outings or independence, you can bet it will backfire in rebellion. When a college student lies about going to class, you can bet he has missed more classes. When a young adult doesn't refill her prescriptions while at school, you can bet she is going to crash. When a college student is behind in all assignments at this time of year, you can bet she will fail one class. It's like if you give a pig a pancake................................... Common sense therapy involves speaking to the parents honestly and directly. Common sense therapy means asking yourself, if this were your kid, what would you do? Common sense therapy says stay with the process. Common sense therapy means more appointments not fewer. Common sense therapy means not continuing the case if it's not for you. Common sense therapy is giving the crisis text line number to every single teenager. (www.crisistextline.org) Remember to have hope. Remember life isn't fair. Do it anyway.

IF my life was described nowadays, it would be soooo different.  The story of my life would be A. Trauma, B. Trauma Bonding C. Abandonment & Insecurity D. Anxiety and Depression E. PTSD F. Body Dysmorphia G. More Trauma Bonding H. Making poor choices I. Getting involved with Narcissists J. Repetition Compulsion K. Adulting L. CANCER DIVORCE INFERTILITY M. Being gaslit  N. Self-Doubt O. Never Losing Motivation P. Being manipulated Q. Overworking/Overthinking R. Seeking clarity S. Realizing the Body Keeps the Score T. Finding Nemo U. Aging under financial strain. V. Raising two remarkably beautiful daughters W. Wondering how it went so fast X. Panic Y. Health anxiety/Driving anxiety Z. Social Media. Disclaimer: We might have said that I was oblivious but for all the anxiety and negative emotions. FAQ: Why do I need a diagnosis?  I don't. Why do friends change?  It's inevitable. Why do I get excluded.  See B. Why does loss/grief show up at the weirdest times?  That's life. What is Radical Acceptance?  Focus on breathing and you will see. What if I don't know what I want in life?  Be patient. What is the difference between disassociation and psychosis?  A lot. Social media ruined my child what should I do?  Take the phone away at night. What exactly takes away panic?  Tapping What if I don't know everything/I'm imperfect?  Making mistakes is the way we learn. What if I can't change?  Change one thing. What if I don't like my job/parents/boss/friends/partner?  Change one thing. What if nothing changes?  Change one thing. What to do with anger/depression/grief/disappointment and shame?  Yoga and exercise. So there's no magic pill for life's ups and downs?  No. Terms and Conditions:  Just keep swimming and don't ever stop!! :-)

During a poetry therapy workshop I recently took, I wrote the following: Fear and change are part of the inevitability We shape the narrative We name the poem Whatever magic can supply - well, sprinkle it like snow But know that magic is not your voice You are your voice Check the food, take a walk, meet a friend, say no These are the ingredients of change These are the days of your life This is the time; not later Like orange in Autumn seize the spark in you I literally got inspired on a walk around my neighborhood.  While I cannot travel the world like some of my friends, I can travel my street, the leaves that change from splashes of yellow to hues of gold light up my brain like a piece of chocolate.  You can harness that light through your senses.  Sit a while. Walk through sorrow and suffering which are part of life.  Change is the only constant. Young adults don't seem to know this.  Their ideas of predictability and perfection are woefully out of touch with reality.  This is because their brains only know how to process in the extremes.  More subtle but invaluable tools are yet to come.  Tools like seeing the grey areas; having to wait or work for something imperfect and hard; realizing that you have to talk to someone else about something difficult and you may not like the answer; understanding that patience is part of growth; figuring out that what your partner/boss/boyfriend/inner child/inner critic/parents want can fluctuate; taking a risk to grow and not be guaranteed every outcome; knowing that loss may also involve welcoming something new; caring about someone who doesn't reciprocate; developing trust when your childhood lacked it; these are all things young adults can MASTER if they try.  Lying under the covers will get you nowhere. I know that the world is becoming extreme. That the Internet & Social Media, with its great promise for equality and freedom for many, has turned out to be a disappointment - its emphasis on false data and hate.  How enlightening it would have been if we had used it as a source for good, democracy, decency and fairness. Perhaps true equality is yet to come, if we don't demolish our institutions before it's too late.  I get the despair and the hurt of so many.  My life wasn't half as secure as my kids' and yet - we must agree it was a simpler day and age.  I try to hold space and patience for myself.  It's hard when I'm grieving about so many things. Here is a teen brain vs. adult brain: Now tell me why we put so much pressure on the most vulnerable.  The brain takes its time to develop and form connections, as we know.  Many areas of executive function such as planning, judgment, consequences, organization and peer relationships are all still growing over these critical years.  Add to this, the costs of the middle class not keeping pace with the price of gas, healthcare, and food, we are hemmed in by our choice to go to college or help our aging parents or have time to be part of our communities, spending time with our kids.  We have been locked out by a society based on greed, leaving many young adults alone, isolated and lagging behind. We can focus on the colors; we can say a prayer.  But stopping at black and white is not leading us anywhere.  Be the brightness of solstice light.  That's why we love our routines - they ground us as the world turns.

This past week, with the assault on Israel's way of life, will change the course of history.  A millennium old conflict will now be insured for another generation of pain and suffering.  We grieve for all humanity. Nobody wants innocent people to be murdered in their own homes.  Every Jew on the planet now feels a little less secure.  It's real.  It's inter-generational TRAUMA.  Make no mistake about that.  We carry it in the cells of our bodies and we will never forget. Half of my Jewish friends and colleagues want Israel (and USA) to level Hamas to the ground.  Why shouldn't we want to eliminate terror?  Think Bin Laden.  But the other half want not to kill thousands of poor, oppressed, regular Palestinians.  We can ask why their Muslim brethren never want to help them. But it will be moot.  Throughout history the Jews have been persecuted yet held to a higher standard. People are making this far too black and white.  The long arm of history will tell you that everyone lays claim to the hallowed ground that is Jerusalem, the cradle of civilization.  And if someone came and shot your child at a peace concert, you can be sure you would want to blow his head off.  But meeting might with might is never the answer. We know it just perpetuates fear. I was heartened to see old friends from my trip to Israel in 1983 together again, trying to assist the families whose children are taken hostage.  I am comforted that my friend, the President of her small temple, is fielding the factions of dissent among her congregation.  I am humbled that my daughters participated in modest ways toward loving peace through words and language and not hate.  Nobody is saying that revenge will work as a long term strategy.  But Hamas is a terrorist group whose only goal is to eliminate Israel.  Why shouldn't Israel protect itself?  Its very existence? These are complicated times. You can love America and hate Trump. You can love Haaretz but hate Netanyahu. Contradictions are everywhere as the world becomes more polarized.  As the polarizers take no accountability and think they're above the law.  These disrupters, (I blame Trump) want nothing but their own self-aggrandizement.  How tragic for us all. I saw this field in my town, named for the good witch, Billie Burke, from the Wizard of Oz.  The sun was setting and children were carefree, playing ball, without the burdens of the outside world. What freedom we have!  Let's pray that extremism doesn't find its way here.

Working as a consultant for a local suicide prevention group, I have been exposed to harrowing stories and heartbreaking losses.  Especially concerning is childhood trauma.  The guru of this work is Bessel van der Kolk, whom I was lucky enough to meet in 2020 at Kripalu.  He says ours is a violent country with a gun-loving history from the gun lobby's interpretation of the 2nd amendment, which says nothing about an individual's right to own guns (only a militia). Safety is something we cannot take for granted anymore. School shootings are a significant focus of our pathology as a culture. 1. Buckle up - if you asked me ten years ago if I would want to work in this space I would have said unequivocally, "hell no!" - it's scary.  You need a sense of being grounded.  I believe I have finally reached the right level of age and experience to handle it.  Being practical in your mind is an essential skill. To weed through the stories to the steps to recovery takes mental discipline. Otherwise you, too, are lost in trauma. 2. Universal experiences - many people now (1 in 5?) are exposed to gun violence, even on TV.  I have seen my own husband, a peace-loving person, watching movies where renegades tote AK-47s, whose only function is to mow down humans.  I can't watch.  Long ago I thought this could never happen here/be real - especially at such a beloved sanctuary as school.  But war has become a way of life for our country.  A war of authoritarianism and fear.  Thank you Trump, the disrupt-er extraordinaire. 3. Connection to impulsivity - many people can delay their distress long enough for it to pass.  That's why they have a net at the bottom of the Golden Gate Bridge.  Just wait.  If you can, perhaps the idea will pass.  But those who can't wait, especially men, carry through at a staggering rate.  Why are they so out of control?  Alienation from society is the path for answers.  It's systemic.  Perhaps JD Vance, author of Hillbilly Elegy and now a R Senator, had the right idea.  The origins of male self-destruction are in systemic addiction/loss of employment/family breakdown and despair in the heartland. Nothing new here except now everyone is armed. 4. Survivors - living in a space where ordinary things freak you out, PTSD survivors have the daily experience of pain in the body - (The Body Keeps the Score).  They cannot connect back to themselves after the brain goes offline.  They can't shut down one part without shutting down another. Our treatment is inadequate for this experiential phenomena. Then the task becomes numbing. Too depressed to care. Take a pill, cut yourself, the past is over, but you don't know that. Like a train off the rails, you only know acceleration. 5. Listening for themes - in my survivor's group I begin to hear themes.  The telling theme is: shock, fear, memory and paralysis.  What is the meaning of life without the only person who ever cared? How can I come back to meaning?  The first job is to surrender to the process. It is possible that only these people can understand.  The client's whole demeanor changes once she realizes she is not alone. Of course this is true of ALL groups. We are fundamentally a species wired for connection. 6. Trauma/PTSD - You don't know the past from present - van der Kolk shows slides of MRIs of the frontal lobes of traumatized patients which highlight there is NOTHING lighting up.  NADA.  In other words, there is scientific proof that the part of the brain supposed to help us with higher level functions is gone!  It's like trying climb Mt. Everest without oxygen!  BY DEFINITION, you cannot utilize the very thing that's needed to survive. You split from your true self.  Even Prince Harry said, I don't recall what happened.  It's a zombie existence. 7. Hopelessness - the other thing that older members tell newer group members is that there can be hope.  I told it to a client yesterday.  She thought her life was over at 35 because she was not able to continue a pregnancy.  I tell her there is hope (I should know).  And yet, she cannot hear me.  She is not fully back online yet. The therapy will be SLOW.  Please remember this.  If it took a whole lifetime to submit to the suffering, it will take some patience to release it.  You did what you could.  Emotions bubble up to the surface that have long been suppressed. 8. Self-care for therapists - some therapists say it's BS.  Blaming ourselves for the failures of our institutions to help veterans, victims of gun violence and societal ills, and those that help them instead of laying the problem at the feet of the society that continues to stigmatize. I never made any money until the pandemic. It would be nice if we could acknowledge that the helpers need help too. We also need health insurance!!  As an independent contractor, I don't need a manicure, I need a doctor! 9. History happens - van der Kolk says besides the lateness of the DSM-v to the arena of trauma, we have seen throughout history the devastation of PTSD.  How about we start with the crusades!!  As a Jew, I can tell you, we have been running our whole lives. It's no wonder we are anxious people!  So when we see whole swaths of children who are crouching in the position of a wounded animal we should not be surprised that this is a natural response to terror, annihilation, shame. 10. Gun control - if it's the last thing I do with my passions it will be to somehow advocate more for gun control. Half the people in my group would still have partners/children/friends if it weren't for one bad decision and a gun.  If only we could find a way to institute common sense measures.  It's not that shocking!, as my softball coach used to say about catching the ball.  Other countries have done this incredibly well.  We just need a will and a way.

Welcome to my hometown where the breathtaking views of the Hudson only caution the inability to dip in. Life requires self-discipline and consistency. Show up for yourself. I have been telling my clients for years to be on the lookout for your true self and make the commitment. I walk into the deli; in comes one of my very first clients. She screams, "Donna, you saved my life!" and proceeds to buy me a turkey sandwich and tells me that a teenager she referred to me is doing incredibly well!!  (A kid who not long ago couldn't leave her room). What more could I ask for? But am I an egomaniac? I little bit don't believe her. I don't deserve the projection of her progress, her readiness, her motivation. Imposter? What is she referring to that I did for her? Provided space, support? Big Whoop. I witnessed, I cared, I guided, and challenged. The rest is so entirely hard to put into words. The experience changes you. You learn to care about yourself but not be a narcissist. Therapy lets you tolerate your pain, be objective, and cry. Or in my case, stop the rumination and pivot. My patients worry that they're "not enough" - that means someone abandoned them. You're not good enough for someone to stay. I have patients who won't show up to work, or drink themselves to death's door, or lost someone to suicide or had such a chaotic childhood there's no surface from which to repair. You can't shut down one aspect without shutting down all - that's trauma. There's no such thing as selective shutting. Anxiety eats away at you. I started shaking the other day when I had to change my health insurance. This country is maddening: no socialism!!  But give me my Medicare!  We learn to be like animals - sell yourself to the capitalist beast; but it's never enough. When I go to other cities I remind myself that parking is not the Hunger Games. We are conditioned to be cogs in the moneyed wheel but we can't get out of the middle class. We smolder there while kids of the privileged squander all with abandon - no repercussions. Why is everything so hard? Anxiety because it's too far to fall.  Anxiety because it's too hard to reach. I look at the stacks and stacks of books that my father collected, then my husband. All the love I had for those babies is now reflected back to me as: heaviness and mold. My father wanted to make it, he almost had us all fooled. Something about an American Dream, the youngest executive to grace publishing. The clippings, the Mad Men, the parties. But you can only lie to yourself for so long. If you don't make changes, nothing changes. Life of the party. Life of dreams. Heaviness and mold. I eat the sandwich that my former patient bought for me. The warm wonderful feeling is so good, then it's gone. I pause. It's my job...

Everything is fine.  Anxiety - check, depression - check, trauma - check.  So why do I feel so bad? What if you just realized that your whole life was a lie?  That the love bombing and narcissistic abuse, and discard, and smoke and mirrors were the crux of it, and the very thing you longed for, a decent, fine family didn't exist or you were better off without it? My patient says her best friend became religious and rejected her for being gay and getting married to a woman.  How can this be?  Can someone you love be so cold?  What about your own parents?  Do they not understand "wokeness?"  Apparently you can talk the talk without really walking the walk.  It's easy!  But what a cop out.  The sense of pain and loss and separation and insecure attachment (Bowlby) follows you around.  But taking steps to heal is meaningful.  And you will. The alternative is staying stuck in the groove of: who will love me, take care of me, show up for me or hurt me next?  Who indeed.  You start repeating the cycle of betrayal and chaos.  You cannot see yourself because you are, by definition, too close to it all.  Our brains get stuck.  Our Vagus Nerve is frozen in time.  There is no future.  When life is a bowl of trauma, you don't make lemonade.  You make due.  You compromise and twist yourself into a pretzel to be seen and heard.  You shout from a silenced voice inside.  You hide yourself.  After a time, you no longer know how to be and you collapse into a permanent state of shut-down, dissociation and disconnect.  Why don't I feel alright?  Because you don't dwell in peace.  You dwell in self-protection.  You are on high alert until your battery drains.  What charges it up again? No way around but through. Thank you, Bessel Van Der Kolk for making this available to all people. Thank you Gabor Mate for making it okay.  Thank you Tara Brach for your calm.  Thank you friends and family for being rich in spirit.  Thank you kind neighbors and trusted colleagues.  Thank you Irvin Yalom for normalizing family conflict.  Thank you Murray Bowen for working through it.  Thank you Annie Lamott for making life funny again.  Thank you Paul Thereaux for lighting the way with adventure.  Thank you husband and children for allowing me to love you through acts of service.  Thank you Brene Brown for lessons in vulnerability.  Finally, thank you Lisa Damour for caring about young people the way I do - by caring about the nuances of being a teen in today's awful, violent, intolerant world. Go through your pain and see what surprises await.  Your daughter shows up with wine, friends and generosity of giving.  Your child gets her top pick law school/law firm.  Your friends come to the class you're teaching.  You turn 60!  Who knows.  Greece?  Ireland?  Moving?  We'll see what I make happen as I release the chains of deceit.  Not by magic.  By effort.Everything is fine.  Anxiety - check, depression - check, trauma - check.  So why do I feel so bad? What if you just realized that your whole life was a lie?  That the love bombing and narcissistic abuse, and discard, and smoke and mirrors were the crux of it, and the very thing you longed for, a decent, fine family didn't exist or you were better off without it? My patient says her best friend became religious and rejected her for being gay and getting married to a woman.  How can this be?  Can someone you love be so cold?  What about your own parents?  Do they not understand "wokeness?"  Apparently you can talk the talk without really walking the walk.  It's easy!  But what a cop out.  The sense of pain and loss and separation and insecure attachment (Bowlby) follows you around.  But taking steps to heal is meaningful.  And you will. The alternative is staying stuck in the groove of: who will love me, take care of me, show up for me or hurt me next?  Who indeed.  You start repeating the cycle of betrayal and chaos.  You cannot see yourself because you are, by definition, too close to it all.  Our brains get stuck.  Our Vagus Nerve is frozen in time.  There is no future.  When life is a bowl of trauma, you don't make lemonade.  You make due.  You compromise and twist yourself into a pretzel to be seen and heard.  You shout from a silenced voice inside.  You hide yourself.  After a time, you no longer know how to be and you collapse into a permanent state of shut-down, dissociation and disconnect.  Why don't I feel alright?  Because you don't dwell in peace.  You dwell in self-protection.  You are on high alert until your battery drains.  What charges it up again? No way around but through. Thank you, Bessel Van Der Kolk for making this available to all people. Thank you Gabor Mate for making it okay.  Thank you Tara Brach for your calm.  Thank you friends and family for being rich in spirit.  Thank you kind neighbors and trusted colleagues.  Thank you Irvin Yalom for normalizing family conflict.  Thank you Murray Bowen for working through it.  Thank you Annie Lamott for making life funny again.  Thank you Paul Thereaux for lighting the way with adventure.  Thank you husband and children for allowing me to love you through acts of service.  Thank you Brene Brown for lessons in vulnerability.  Finally, thank you Lisa Damour for caring about young people the way I do - by caring about the nuances of being a teen in today's awful, violent, intolerant world. Go through your pain and see what surprises await.  Your daughter shows up with wine, friends and generosity of giving.  Your child gets her top pick law school/law firm.  Your friends come to the class you're teaching.  You turn 60!  Who knows.  Greece?  Ireland?  Moving?  We'll see what I make happen as I release the chains of deceit.  Not by magic.  By effort.

Now my big girl is turning 25. She is off to big law which means you continue law school knowing you are scooped up into a world of allure and grinding hard work. She left and I fell to pieces. She fulfills our hopes and dreams and sacrifice. But there is something final here that all my friends are murmuring and grieving about. It is the inevitable passage of life. In order for them to succeed it means we by definition are getting old. There's no escaping it and as my father always said, Beats the alternative. Still the cost of parenting is letting go. We know we have to. The cost of worrying about their safety is grey hair. The cost of a life, priceless. My price is sorrow and loss. For a lifetime of doubt and confusion, adjustments and should haves and what ifs and fear of abandonment; it's over now. I must not let myself be bitter or defined by it.  There just may be a little space left for allowing. Having good work, a loyal partner, loving, kind kids, no matter the fact that there's a constant struggle for money and stability, is its own reward. I had tons of help and privilege; and I had none. It kept coming and going; learning, changing, re-inventing. For the first time, I imagine not being around anymore. There's a bit of relief in that, and I'm only 60+! No, I am not suicidal! I am wistful about the circle of life and all it's damn cliches. I miss jumping in the lake, not having to check my phone. First love. First job. I miss the hope and potential. You see I lived in a fantasy where things were supposed to be a certain way. Your grandparents waved goodbye from the driveway. Their lives had meaning. I am only now growing up. Nothing is owed us. My daughter goes out the door and with her goes my heart.

7.27 IN my family of origin, birthdays were big deals.  My Dad always called and said, "how could you be this old - that makes ME old!"  My Mom always sent 3 cards and many kisses!  Being a summer bday kid, there was some sadness about not being around family and schoolmates, but camp was my happy place. Give me a lake and a tennis court and some cheers and teams - I'm set.  I was a good kid and I had many friends and activities. We washed our hair in the lake at camp.  We went to tournaments, sang our heads off, rode on the back of a pickup truck, got in trouble, liked boys.  We bought pukka beads at Weir Beach.  We shared an orange cream soda.  What an innocence! Now it's my birthday again.  But now too, after all the peaks and valleys of my life, and there have been many, I realize it's just one big cheesy experience.  You travel through and the days go slow, the years go fast and whoosh, you're in a new decade and you're suddenly  grateful to just be here.  You give less advice and more compassion; you let the client meet you where she is.  You wait more; you give yourself patience. You get your eyelashes tinted.  My father would say, ah, it will pass.  My mother would say, take it 15 mins at a time. Struggles come and go.  I miss my parents so deeply.  My mother was the most loving and generous there was.  My father was the most fun, funniest, my buddy, my pal.  My mother said stay close - my father said go far. I think that learning about how trauma is stored in the body was my biggest breakthrough as a lifelong learner.  I think that therapy helped me get out of my over-worn grooves of rumination.  I say YOGA has allowed me physical freedom and mental spaces I never imagined.  Aging has given me more aches and pains, but life experience has given me more equanimity.  I really pray that this year all of us can have a little more peace of mind.  The world may be dismal right now, but still, I have hope.