When people get into therapy, they often say, “I haven’t been the same since …” and they name some life-changing event.
Personally, I haven’t been the same since …
my first heart surgery at age 10,
I got my first cat,
I got my first car,
I rode a bicycle for the first time,
my heart valve replacement surgery last September,
my son was born,
my son went away to school in Scotland,
my son returned home for Christmas,
my son went back to school yesterday,
I took my first disco dance lesson,
I met my husband,
my divorce,
my cardiac pacemaker was recalled in 1975,
my cardiac pacemaker/defibrillator was recalled two weeks after my valve replacement surgery in September,
President John F. Kennedy was killed,
Bobby Kennedy was killed,
Martin Luther King was killed,
John Lennon was killed,
I went away to college,
I was attacked by a rapist outside my apartment in Cambridge, Massachusetts,
I first got into therapy,
I went to film school,
I became a therapist,
Barack Obama was elected President of the United States,
Donald Trump was elected President of the United States,
I met my boyfriend Michael,
I first saw Gene Kelly dance,
I heard my first pun,
I made my first pun,
I attended Berklee School of Music for a summer program when I was in high school,
I worked on the recruitment tape for Berklee College of Music in the 1990s,
I did stand-up comedy at an Open Mic,
my son performed stand-up comedy at an Open Mic,
I had my first cup of cocoa with marshmallows,
my father died,
my mother-in-law died,
my mother died,
my father-in-law died on Friday,
I encountered Mexican food for the first time,
I had my first black raspberry ice cream cone,
I saw my first palm tree,
I started blogging,
I got my first comment on this blog,
I bought my first personal computer during the 1980s,
I wrote computer manuals in the 1970s,
I slept out under the stars in Monument Valley,
I went cross country by bus,
I attended the Edinburgh Festival Fringe,
I heard Pat Metheny play guitar,
I sang in front of people,
I met every person who is important to me,
I saw my first Stephen Sondheim musical,
I first heard the band Steely Dan over the sound system at a Cambridge store, playing this song …
and countless other events.
I haven’t been the same since all those things happened and yet I’m still the same person.
I haven’t been the same since I took all these photos:
Give the happiness of a comment and I will end up happy.
I haven’t been the same since I first learned to express gratitude, so many thanks to all who helped me create today’s post and to you — of course! — for being changed and yet the same, every moment.
es·sence
ˈesəns noun
the intrinsic nature or indispensable quality of something, especially something abstract, that determines its character.
“conflict is the essence of drama”
synonyms: quintessence, soul, spirit, nature
PHILOSOPHY
a property or group of properties of something without which it would not exist or be what it is.
plural noun: essences
an extract or concentrate obtained from a particular plant or other matter and used for flavoring or scent.
synonyms: extract, concentrate, distillate, elixir, decoction, juice, tincture
Yesterday, I had an interesting discussion about essence with Newell, Lisa, and Michelle …
… showing their essences there, left to right.
Newell — who arranged last night’s reunion of people who worked together for years at a psychiatric day treatment program — broached the subject of essence almost immediately, which reflects the essence of Newell. Newell told us he essentially believes we all have an essence that never changes. I noted the essence of irony there, since our work focused on the essence of change. I also wondered whether our essence was immortal.
My essence loves the essences of the three people in that photo.
Earlier in the day, I experienced the essence of several things, at Whole Foods Market …
… my local Honda dealership …
… and a watch and clock shop.
I’m thinking that one of those clocks might have the perfect essence for my new office in Newton, Massachusetts. Which clock would your essence choose?
Finally, here’s the essence of Lisa’s adorable dog …
Bella.
What do you think is the essence of this post? Does “My Immortal” by Evanescence capture its essence?
Here and now, I’m happy to share the essence of my gratitude for Newell, Lisa, Michelle, music, animals, time, things that change and things that stay the same, and — of course! — you.
I found that very becoming, because I was already thinking about how things can become other things, like a spoon becoming a pen …
… caring becoming worry (and vice versa) …
… a slinky becoming something else…
… “busy” becoming other things…
… and my work computer screen becoming upside down, yesterday.
I was also thinking how Larry David had no trouble becoming Bernie Sanders on SNL this past Saturday, but had unexpected trouble becoming George Costanza (a character unbecomingly based on himself) on Curb Your Enthusiasm.
I believe it is becoming and healing to let go of shame, guilt, fear, worry about the future, regret about the past, and outdated thought patterns. However, as many becoming people have said in my office,
That’s easier said than done.
I know that, but saying the change can be the first step to becoming it.
Today, I will not be coming into the Boston teaching hospital where I work as a psychotherapist. Instead, I will be coming to a conference on innovation in medical practice.
Who knows what will become, on this day in October? I know this: another blog post will be coming your way, tomorrow.
I am becoming grateful to every person, place, and thing that helped this post become what it did today. I’m becoming especially grateful to you — of course! — for becoming, here and now.
Now that we’re into the month of September to the extent that it’s hitting people that we’re really into September, here’s what I’m noticing:
The topic of “perfectionism” keeps coming up, in therapy groups and elsewhere.
People (at least in the Northeast section of the U.S.) seem more confused than usual about what to expect from the outside environment.
People (at least in the Northeast section of the U.S.) seem more confused than usual about what to expect from themselves.
Those are some things I’m observing. (Although, as I often hear people say, “Maybe it’s just me.”)
How about a photo to end this post?
The first thing I do, when I decide to use a photo, is to check my iPhone, to see if there are any photos I’ve taken that I haven’t used in a blog post yet.
Nope, nope, nope, nope. (Perhaps I’ll have to go to Google Images, this morning.)
Wait! Here’s one I took several weeks ago:
Why do I think this is a great photo for this post?
There’s a specific reference to the month of September.
There’s a mistake within the photo.
This reminds me that mistakes can make people smile (not just annoy them).
The sign, despite the mistake, still got the job done.
And, last but not least, the sign shows that all things, especially inconveniences, will come to an end.
When I was a kid, I had lots of scary experiences in the hospital, all by myself, because my parents weren’t allowed to be with me.
I remember listening to the beeping sounds of heart monitors, in the darkest part of the night, feeling frozen.
I’m writing this blog post from a cot in a hospital room, next to my amazing 15-year-old son, who is recovering quite nicely from a procedure, this afternoon, to correct a “spontaneous pneumothorax.”
Earlier, this was the view from his hospital room as day turned to night:
It’s the darkest part of the night, right now. The only sounds I hear in this room are reassuring ones, including those of my son’s undisturbed sleep.
The first week I blogged here, back in January, I shared the introduction of a book I’m working on, which described a wonderful, useful way to look at your healing journey through life.
I can use the word “wonderful” with all due modesty, because it’s not my idea. Carl Jung came up with this soulful and true metaphor, which matches so many people’s experience of learning and growth.
This is what Jung said: While we may expect ourselves to learn and proceed through life in a linear fashion, like this:
The human experience is more like this:
(And yes, that is a picture of a Slinky!!) (Which I’m thrilled to have found this morning on-line, especially since several people I work with have bought Slinkies, to remind themselves of this concept.)
Look at that beautiful Slinky. THAT is how we grow. We move around in circles, learning similar lessons over and over again.
Of couse, that kind of path can feel discouraging at times … like we’re moving backwards. Like we’re relearning things we should know already.
But here’s the good news. We’re always moving up. Each time we go around, we have new wisdom and experience. Even when we move back around into periods of pain, confusion, or hopelessness, we will turn another corner and continue to move forward.
We can’t fall back. We can’t unlearn. It’s impossible.
It make take us several go-rounds to learn something “well enough” to change, but we’re always building, in some way, on what we’ve experienced.
Why did I want to revisit this ascending coil, this morning?
Because when I woke up this morning, facing some difficult challenges — some new opportunities that scare me, I had this thought, which helped tremendously:
Today, I am more equipped than I’ve ever been in my life, to tackle what’s ahead of me. Because, no matter what I’m doing, I’m further along, on this mortal coil.
Jonathan Hilton, a blogger I follow and really appreciate here, recently did a great post about worrying. What I found most helpful about that post were the numbers he quoted about worry.
Here were his Worry Mathematics: After subtracting (1) future-oriented worries about things that never happen, (2) past-oriented worries about things we can’t change, (3) needless worries about our health, and (4) petty miscellaneous worries, the post concluded that 92% of what we worry about is wasted energy.
92% of worry is needless, said Jonathan.
I’ve said, to people, that worry never does any good, but I certainly believe that 8% of time spent worrying is “legitimate” (involving financial and other survival issues). However, as Jonathan pointed out, worry is different from concern. As he wrote “Worrying has never fed a child or ended any trouble.”
In any case, I know that seeing such a low number, in Jonathan’s post — plus his specific dismissing of different types of worry — has stuck with me, in a helpful way. I’m doing an even better job, since I read his post, of letting go of worry (which is an old and well-practiced habit for me).
Here are some other things that are helping me let go of worry, these days:
Having faith in my own process.
Assuming the best, instead of the worst.
Letting go of concern about what other people are thinking.
Being more present in the moment.
My sense is, though, that I’ve probably written about all of the above, before. And I’m not sure how helpful such general, oft-cited statements might be, for you.
So I’d like to write a little about some specific improvements I’ve noticed lately — related to letting go of worry — in a particular area.
Losing things.
My mind seems to have an infinite capacity to lose track of objects.
That’s an old and familiar story, for me. My mother used to say that I would lose my head if it wasn’t attached.
However, there are many things that are NOT attached to me, and most of those I lose, regularly. These include my keys, my cell phone, directions to places I need to be NOW, sales receipts, the one ingredient that I just bought at the supermarket that I need for cooking, the nail or screw I need to put something together, that one piece of vital information I need for something incredibly time-sensitive and important, and so on and so forth.
And I lose things in such creative ways! I’ve oft stated that my brain seems to want to make my life more interesting, exciting, and challenging, misplacing necessary objects at exactly the wrong time. If something is really important, I tend to carry it around with me and then — BAM! — just when I’m ready to leave the house, it’s gone. Then, when I’m looking for it, it’s clear that I’ve hidden it, with clever and unmatched skill.
It’s like I’m the best magician possible, making things disappear, even when I think I’m paying close attention.
THAT routine never gets old, I have to say. I just watched it again, and LLOLed (Literary Laughed Out Loud), the whole way through.
He was so great.
Anyway, I haven’t lost track of my point: Here’s how things have changed, lately, for me.
Now that I’m worrying less, being more mindful, and having more faith in myself and my capabilities, I’ve gotten a lot better at finding things.
I’m still losing these important things, mind you. But when the cell phone, keys, directions, and banana guacamole are gone, right when I need them most, I don’t berate myself. Instead, I accept, with forgiveness and humor, my human tendency to Do That Losing Thang. Then, my mind is clear from self-judgment and regret, and I can usually find what I lost, pretty quickly.
It’s like I’m accepting and even loving the quirky way my mind works. Which is wonderful. I’m also letting go of anxiety about being late (which losing things might worsen). And I’m having faith that the lost things are there, waiting to be found. (As my friend Eleanor said to me recently, when I described losing and finding my keys, “You knew they were still on the planet.”) And, even if things do seem to be lost forever, I’ve been realizing that I can survive without them.
As a result, I’ve been finding things much more quickly. And I’m on time, more frequently.
So, dear readers, I’m going to wrap up this post … to give myself time, if needed, to find my keys, cell phone, lunch, and my head — in whatever places I might hide them — before I leave for work.
Thanks to Jonathan Hilton, George Carlin, Eleanor, and you, for finding your way here today.
A few days ago, I wrote a post called “To Tweet or Not to Tweet (is that the question?),” where the “real” topics included aging, resistance to change, fear of the new, embracing life, dealing with illness, and the d-word (death).
However, Twitter was definitely in there. And several of the much-appreciated comments I got on that post (including a few from fellow blogger Charmin) have kept Twitter On My Mind.
And then, in another peep of synchronicity, Twitter sent me a friendly, freakishly timed e-mail saying, “Hello, Ann! We haven’t seen you in a while!”
Because I did sign up for Twitter a while ago. (My memory is that my son was interested at that time, and we had some kind of mass, household sign-up).
And I have Tweeted twice before, I realized this morning.
The first tweet, quite a while ago, was something related to “Top Chef.” (I confess: I love me some reality shows where the contestants — or in this case, “cheftestants” — are good at and passionate about what they do.) (Note to self: possible future blog post topics: (1) Reality Shows, (2) Passion and Skill, (3) Made-Up Words and What They Do To Our Souls.)
The second tweet was A Celebrity Tweet. I had tweeted my guitar hero, Pat Metheny, thanking him for the music he’s given us. (I expressed that intense gratitude to him in person, too, many years ago, at this building:
which used to be a Tower Records.) ( I re-encountered that building, in April, when I felt ready to walk down Boylston Street, after the Boston Marathon bombings.)
Today, I did a Tweet With A New Attitude. The new attitude was less tentative, less Twitter Toe In The Water. (That idiom — putting your toe in the water to indicate trying something carefully, reminds me of a FABULOUS blog I encountered here recently: Toemail, where people send in wonderful pictures that include a toe somewhere in the scene.)
This time, I jumped in with both feet. I sent a Tweet, Intentionally, to reach people. (The content of the tweet doesn’t matter. Suffice to say: it was goofy. I love me some goofy.)
Whenever I do that: try to reach people — whether it’s through blogging, speaking, tweeting, writing, mailing, calling, at my work, or in my dreams — it can be hopeful, exciting, rewarding, frustrating, and scary, too.
What are my fears about doing this?
I don’t have messages that are important enough, that justify asking for people’s attention . I don’t want to “bother” them, in the midst of all the other things they need to pay attention to.
And, I can experience shame, too, when I act like I AM important enough (to send messages, bother people, etc.).
(And here’s another one, that my friend Joe just reminded me about, in his explanation of not accepting my invitation to join Twitter. If I send a message, will kind and thoughtful people be concerned about my reaction, if they decide to set a limit and not to engage in this way?)
But these are all things I’m working on this year, dear readers.
And I guess I’m making progress, because I’m Bothering People here in the Blog-o-Sphere, every single day! (And who knows how often I’ll be bothering people through Twitter?)
Thanks for reading, for not being bothered, and for spending your valuable, important time with me.
