Posts Tagged With: groups

Day 109: 7:09 AM These guys are turning my world into a violent movie

Posted on April 19, 2013 by Ann Koplow

I live in one of those communities, shut down, right now, by the escaped Boston Marathon bomber being on the loose.

I’m writing this as I’m watching this on TV.  I assume many of you share this with me — seeing these scenes.

It’s hard to feel safe right now.  Again, as on Monday, I am getting messages from people who are NOT here, asking me if I’m okay.  I appreciate people reaching out.  That does help.

I just got a phone call from the local police, telling us not to leave our homes.  I am picturing this guy, roaming the streets, becoming more desperate, perhaps about to break in to my home.

My bf came downstairs, while I was in the kitchen, and I jumped. I jumped out of involuntary fear.

Every place that is shut down, right now, is a place where I’ve lived, worked, or gone to school.

As I am writing this, the media are showing “an unfolding scene” in Kenmore Square, another place I’ve spent many, many normal, pre-2013 Marathon Day hours.

The whole world is watching, as the media — right now — is filming this “movie”, this story, filled with speculation and fear, with “tension so high” (I am quoting the TV commentator, as I am watching too, right now).   I’m in a movie I didn’t choose — that I didn’t want — right now.

I recognize all the scenes they are showing, on TV —  as these two guys have been wreaking more havoc– these guys, whose movie I am apparently in, right now.

I’ll say it.

This feels traumatic, on some level.  This is — in the moment — changing my world in ways I cannot control. It is making my world look different  It is making my world — all these familiar touchstones of my entire daily life — look dangerous.

I am in the first stage of trauma, I guess. Shock.  Not understanding.  Trying to make meaning, in the midst of violent chaos which also FEELS VERY FAMILIAR, but in a new way. What’s being reported by the media — more bombings, shooting, escapes, chases — are familiar to me from movies.  The location, the geography, the visuals, are super familiar to me, from every day life.

I don’t know about you, but I get really affected, when I see a local scene I recognize in a friggin’ movie.

This is new, though. Not sure how it’s going to affect me.  I am aware of lots of people, all around me, being affected — being changed by a new experience.

This will have an effect, for a while.  I’ll see it in myself, in others who live where I live. I’ll see it, in my work, as a psychotherapist, who works at one of the affected hospitals.

I don’t know how this story is going to end, but I do know that I’ll be seeing the effects.

I know that I — and lots and lots of other people — will be trying to make meaning of this, in order to regain a sense of “enough safety.”

Like I am trying to make sense, right now.

I wrote on my Facebook page, earlier this week, the following:  “I’m grateful I live in a world where I can blog. Really.”  I wonder if people knew what I meant?  I wonder if that makes sense to you, right now.

When I was working with people in groups, yesterday, we were making lists of “What Helps Right Now.”  People named these things:  “Distracting,”  “Helping Others,” “Taking Care of Myself,”  “Not watching TV”, “Connecting with others.”

My addition to the list?  “Writing about it.”

Here.

Thanks for reading.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Day 108: Kindness can make me cry, even harder

Posted on April 18, 2013 by Ann Koplow

These days, lots of things have been making me cry.

I’m definitely a person who cries and laughs a lot, perhaps more than the “average person” (whoever that is). And, during 2013 (which I’ve designated as a year where I work on the process of letting go of judgment), I’ve been crying more than my own personal average (whatever that is).

There are lots of reasons why I’ve been crying more this year. Since Monday and the Boston Marathon, I’ve got more reasons.

I feel like I’m learning a lot this year. Some of these lessons are wonderful and hope-inspiring. Some of these lessons are terrible and painful.

I think I’m learning more this year — partly because I’m paying more attention. I’m paying more attention because I’m doing work I’m passionate about (group and individual therapy at a major Boston hospital), where listening and watching are really important.

I’m also doing these blog posts, once a day, and that process is causing me to pay more attention — within myself and outside, in the world.

So I’ve been paying more attention to things, some of which are more inherently painful. So it makes sense — doesn’t it? — that I’ve been crying more.

And one thing I’ve been noticing and learning lately:

Kindess can make me cry, even harder than cruelty does.

I noticed that, last week, when some of my co-workers were incredibly kind and supportive to me, as I was struggling personally.

I notice that when I read the amazing and kind comments that people leave here, on my blog. (Like the long one, left by an old high school acquaintance, at the end of this post.)

I noticed that this morning, right before I wrote this post, when I read this portion of an on-line article about people’s kindness to others in the aftermath of the Boston bombings.

In Michigan, Hamilton Elementary School students created a “finish line” by standing on either side of the hallway so their principal could finish the marathon interrupted by the cruel blasts.

“We felt bad that she couldn’t finish the 26.2 miles. So, we decided that we would help her finish,” fourth-grader Ryan Smalley told CNN affiliate WDIV.

The students cheered for Principal Pam Mathers as she dashed to the finish line, high-fiving the students along the way. Some teachers watched, tearfully.

“You know what? I may not have gotten the medal but I’ve gotten many many more rewards from you,” Mathers said Wednesday. “All of you are my medals.”

I see that in other people, too — that kindness can make them cry, even harder.

I see that in group work, when somebody receives authentic, kind, and encouraging words from other people in the group. Sometimes that person cries, pretty intensely.

How do I make meaning of that, right now?

Perhaps kindness can make us cry harder out of …. relief. Being surprised by kindness when we’re so aware of cruelty.

Perhaps kindness can make us cry harder out of …. grief. Being opened up to old losses in a new way.

Not sure I can figure it all out this morning.

But I wanted to share it, with you.

Thanks for reading.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments

Day 104: Things I know about groups

Posted on April 14, 2013 by Ann Koplow

It’s time for a post that has a random collection of stuff I know!

This is my first attempt at a list — which I’ve often thought I should put together — of things that help people communicate more authentically in groups.

Because I am a group therapist (and I am giving presentations, these days, on the groups I’m doing), the focus of this list is from my perspective — a person who runs groups.  (However, I hope that you, dear reader,  might get something out of this, too.)

Things that Help People Communicate More Effectively (and More Authentically) In Groups

(and perhaps in any encounter with other people)

by Ann

  1. People know enough about what to expect from their experience in order to be present with less anxiety. This helpful knowledge includes each person’s role in the group, what is expected of them, and what might be coming next.
  2. People feel safe enough to disclose and share, which includes knowing that other people’s thoughts are not as dangerous as one might fear.
  3. Acknowledging and inviting all the different parts of each person  (including feelings and thoughts) (including the parts that are both accepted and disowned).
  4. Inviting what is shared and common among the group members (similar experiences, feelings, and thoughts).
  5. Acknowledgement of each person’s uniqueness — that they may feel alone and different at times. (This includes naming and validating this common thought, “I am the only one in this room who ……”)
  6. Link  # 5 above with #4, above, to focus on interpersonal connection. In other words, people are unique and may feel alone even while in the presence of others, but they are not alone with that, either!
  7. Inviting people’s needs.
  8. Leaving room for hope but also disappointment, because all personal needs will not be met during each encounter. (Group work is very much about balancing your needs with other people’s needs.)
  9. Leaving room for people to figure out how to continue the work beyond the group session,  including meeting those needs that weren’t met.
  10. Inviting everybody’s strengths and wisdom.

I focused on my needs  in writing this post today. I’m going to leave it with that emphasis, rather than work  much longer on this post, in order to make it more obviously useful to my readers.   I do want to finish this soon, and get out and enjoy the day.

But I do want to say this:

Blogging is another group interaction (at least it is, in my mind).  Considering that I focused more on my own needs in this post, I wonder how I did, in making this post effective for everybody who might read it? 

Oh, that reminds of something else I do in groups:

11.  Tell people there is no right or wrong way to do the group. Invite the concept of “good enough.”

I think I did a  good enough job balancing my needs  with your needs, today,  in this important personal interaction.

Oooops!   That reminds me of something else!

12.  Acknowledge the importance of the connection.

Okay, I’m done. For now.

Thanks for reading.

© 2013 Ann Koplow

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Day 101: Bill Rodgers stopped to tie his shoe

Posted on April 11, 2013 by Ann Koplow

Yesterday, my son’s father told us something I didn’t know, during a discussion about Bill Rodgers, who won both the Boston and New York City Marathons many times in the 1970s. We were talking about what an incredible runner he was, and I mentioned that I had seen a documentary about running where they described him as “perfectly built to run marathons.”

Then my son’s dad said this:

“Famously, during a Boston Marathon where he broke a record, he stopped during the race to tie his shoe.”

I immediately knew that was my blog post for today.

That is such a wonderful, compact little story.  And such a great image, too.  Bill Rodgers, in the middle of a race where he is (unaware) on pace to break the record, stopping calmly to tie his shoe.

And, there are so many ways to “read” that story.

What conclusions do you draw about it? What does that tell you about him, as a runner and as a person?

How do you make meaning of that?

Even among the people involved in that discussion yesterday, there were some different conclusions:

He was smart, because if he didn’t stop, he might have tripped.

Because he was so much better than anybody in the race, he could afford to do that.

And when I googled “Bill Rodgers stopping to tie his shoe” this morning, I noticed it being used to make different points (including The Paramount Importance of Shoe Lacing).

But this is how I immediately heard that story yesterday:

If you’re going to run the race, you need to stop and take care of yourself.

because that’s the lesson I need to be re-learning, right now.

As I’m writing this post this morning, I’m realizing this, too:  Bill Rodgers Stopping To Tie His Shoe could also be a perfect illustration of two other phrases I have found to be helpful (for myself and for other people):

#1.  You have all the time you need.

#2.  Lose your investment in the outcome.

What a great story.

So, thanks to Bill Rodgers, to my son’s dad, and to you, for reading today.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Day 81: An Appreciation Trip

Posted on March 22, 2013 by Ann Koplow

I have the privilege of doing work that I truly love: being a group therapist.

As usual, in this moment, I am very conscious of language, as I attempt to communicate with others — out there in the blogosphere.

Here are some ways I can describe what I do. I lead groups. I facilitate groups. I do groups. I run groups.

My title? Group leader.  Group facilitator.  Group therapist.

None of this language completely captures what I do, and some of it seems misleading to me — giving me too much power, or otherwise not accurately reflecting my role and my experience in a group.

Digression about Language and Communication

I am focusing on language as I write this because language is sooooo important to me.  I really want to be understood. I really want to communicate, to another person, what is important to me.  I want to do that effectively, recognizing that there are so many reasons and ways that I might be misunderstood. There are so many barriers to people understanding each other.  I experience that every day — in my professional life and in my personal life.

Sometimes I say this when I’m talking about communication:  Each person is so unique — with a  history and a current experience that is so personal, so different from anybody else’s — that it’s amazing that we can understand each other, at all.  It’s like each one of us is our own country, with our own culture, language, and government.  No wonder there are misunderstandings — when two separate countries try to exchange with each other.

Now, I know that may sounds extreme.

And as usual, the opposite is true, too — sometimes when I communicate with others, or witness communication, I experience people understanding and connecting with each other in amazing ways — understanding each other so profoundly and unexpectedly, no matter what their differences. Then,  people can seem so connected,  it’s like we are almost one entity. (Not like The Borg, though.  Heaven forbid.)

Hmmm.  I was planning on writing about something simple, but instead, I seem to be trying to communicate Things Profound (and even Trippy).

End of Digression

When I lead or run or facilitate or do groups, I sometimes (if I’m lucky!) work with somebody else, often called a co-facilitator or co-leader.

For the groups I do on Thursday evenings, I’ve been lucky enough to have a co-facilitator this year.

But I work at a teaching hospital, so people who work there are often there for limited periods of time.   And it looks like my co-facilitator is leaving in a month or two.

Which I feel sad about, because I really enjoy working with her.

Last night, she couldn’t attend the group.

So this morning, I wrote her an e-mail, letting her know that I missed her last night and  that I’ll miss her if she leaves.

But I hesitated before writing it.

Why?

For several reasons:

  • It feels risky to let somebody know that I appreciate them.
  • It feels risky to let somebody know that I am sad, because I’ll miss them.
  • I’m afraid she might have some sort of adverse reaction, like guilt for missing last night’s group.

I recognize those feelings and fears, but my priority is  to let people know when I’m having a positive reaction to them (as I wrote about, here.) So I wrote the e-mail.  The subject for the e-mail was

An appreciation trip, not a guilt trip

And I let her know about how she was missed at group last night, as well as my feelings about the possibility of her leaving.

It felt like the next right thing to do. Or more simply, it felt right.  And as I wrote that e-mail subject, I thought, “That’s my topic for today’s blog.”

Which is now done.

Thanks for reading, everybody.

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Day 67: Fears AND Antidotes!

Posted on March 8, 2013 by Ann Koplow

Today, I still have fears that I might be ill with endocarditis.

I am not quite as paralyzed by fear as I was yesterday, when I wrote this blog post  before leaving home in the morning.

 (I am letting go of judgment, right now, of how confusing that post might have been, and about how I might have included Too Much Information.) (Poof! )

Better.

So even though I’m feeling more centered and calm today, I am still in the challenging and difficult position of waiting for the results of the test for endocarditis.

When I work with people in therapy, I point out to them what a difficult place this is to be: Not Knowing, while waiting for important results. How stressful it is being in a position where you have no control over an outcome which may have a major impact on your life.  (For example, waiting to hear if you’ve gotten into the school you want, waiting for the results of a biopsy, etc.)

I often forget to tell myself what I invite my clients to tell themselves: This is a very difficult place you are in. Therefore, be as kind to yourself as possible.

In groups I do, I hear this very common theme: we can see what works for other people, but it is hard to apply it to ourselves.

That reminds me of the following antidote for unhelpful thinking:

The “Double-Standard” Method. Instead of judging yourself harshly, talk to yourself as compassionately as you might to a friend with a similar problem. Also, ask yourself, “How would I react if somebody else did this?”

That gives me an idea for the rest of this post for today.  I’d like to focus  on antidotes. And when I say “focus on”,  I mean “ramble about in that general direction until I get to the point I want to make.”

 I am now going to reframe some negative mind-reading I am doing,  assuming that you, my reader, might find my writing style annoying.  I am going to reframe that into this: “Maybe some people find my writing style … charming!”  Oooh!  That helped me feel better. I will now reframe again into a more balanced thought:  “Some people might find my writing style annoying. Some people might find my writing style charming. Enough people will find it understandable and worth reading.”

Better.

Yesterday, I did two groups at work, and  I was very focused on inviting people to look at The Positive.

Okay, time for a digression about a way I think about therapy.

Digression about How I Think About Therapy

 I think there is a duality about therapy.  I think it is important to leave room for people’s ambivalence — their experience of the positive AND the negative. I think it’s important to leave room for people’s hopes AND fears.  The light AND the dark.  The good in them AND the not-so-good in them.

I think it’s important for me to show my acceptance of exactly where they are AND have hope with them for what they want to change — in themselves and in their lives. And I work hard to invite people to do the same for themselves.

I think it’s important to invite both sides — the positive and negative. But I want to be careful to invite the negative, especially, because — if I focus too much on the positive —  people might not feel seen, with all their pain, shame, and fears about themselves and their lives.

Lots of clients/patients (I don’t like those labels, but I have yet to find a title I like for people I see)  tell me that others  in their lives don’t want to hear their “negatives” — their  depression, anger, despair, fear, or hopelessness.  The people I see at work often tell me they feel bad about  how other people in their lives react to their pain. This might make them not want to talk to other people. It can cause them to isolate.

And I understand how people who love my clients/patients — or who are otherwise connected to them — might not want to see my clients’ pain.  These people may feel exhausted, helpless, or incompetent about what to say.

I think that’s a big reason why people go into therapy, actually, because they are desperate to have the “negative” parts of themselves — their anger, hopelessness, fear, despair  stuck-ness, etc. — acknowledged, instead of avoided.

So human beings are both  positive and negative,   holding both hope and hopelessness — and they are ambivalent about many things.  By “ambivalent”, I mean that they have two conflicting feelings. For  example, someone might want change AND fear change at the same time.

End of Digression about Therapy in General

In the groups I did yesterday, I wanted to go more towards the positive  (while, at the same time, leaving some room for negative thoughts that were in the room, too).  But I remarked in myself that I really wanted to focus on antidotes yesterday.  I wanted to focus on hope, not on leaving as much room for people’s pain in the moment.

And I named that, in the moment, to the group members.

And I knew (although I didn’t name it) that my wish to go toward the positive was related to my fears about my own health.

And we focused on antidotes, during the group.

As I said in this blog post, I like to use props in therapy.  And two of my props are (1) The Bowl of Distortions and (2) The Bowl of Antidotes.

bowls

There they are — straight from my office to your screen!

What’s in The Bowl of Distortions?  Slips of paper containing the definitions of all 13 cognitive distortions.  The Bowl of Antidotes holds slips of paper containing descriptions of ways to challenge these (which I keep adding to).

Yesterday, because I really wanted to focus on the positive, I suggested that we use the Bowl of Antidotes. And each person in the group chose an antidote from the bowl,  and talked about it with the group  (including details about whether the person used that antidote, how they used it, whether it was useful, what got in the way of using it, how to use it more, and so on).

Here are some antidotes the group members chose from the bowl yesterday:

  • List the positives. To deal with the tendency to focus on the negative, make lists of good things that are happening, good things about yourself, and things that you are accomplishing (even little things). Focus on what you ARE doing, rather than on what you’re NOT doing.
  • The Semantic Method.  Substitute language that is less emotionally loaded and less judgmental.  For example, instead of telling yourself, “I should have known better,” you could say, “I didn’t know that.”
  • Cost-Benefit Analysis.  List the pros and cons of a negative thought (like “I always screw up”) or a behavior pattern (like isolating when you’re depressed). A simple version of this is to ask yourself, “Does this [thought or action] help me?”

Another antidote somebody picked from the bowl was “The Double Standard Method,” described earlier in this post. And this one came up, too, which the group discussed at length:

  • The “In Case of Emergency, Break Glass” Technique. Prepare for the possibility that when you are feeling at your worst, coping strategies and solutions might be difficult to remember. Write down a couple of things that might be helpful to remember when you are feeling bad, and put that in a special place. Also, consider telling somebody else about these “emergency messages,” so they can remind you.

The members of the group really liked that one, and talked in detail about ways to put this one into effect.

Here’s two more antidotes, which we didn’t pick yesterday in the group, but which I’ve been trying to use a lot the last couple of days:

  • Reality testing.  Ask people questions to find out if your thoughts and concerns are realistic or true. This is a particularly effective response to the distortion of mind-reading.
  • The So What? Technique. Consider that an anxiety-producing possibility (even the worst case scenario) might not be as bad as you fear. For example, “So what if this one person doesn’t like me? Not everybody is going to like me.” or “So what if I lose my cell phone? It’ll be an incredible hassle, but I’ll be able to deal with it.”

Antidotes can really help.

Thanks for reading.  As always, I would welcome any comments on any antidotes you find helpful.  And, I love collecting antidotes, so let me know if you have others you like in addition to the ones listed here.

© 2013 Ann Koplow

Categories: personal growth | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Day 66: Random Thoughts, before an 8:30 appointment

Posted on March 7, 2013 by Ann Koplow

I woke up this morning feeling scared, and my natural preference for that was to isolate.

So I was choosing to write in my blog, rather than to talk to my boyfriend.

I noted that, and realized that it might be more helpful to connect with another person.

So I consciously chose to talk to him, briefly, before coming downstairs to write this blog post.

My wish this morning is to write this post before I leave for an 8:30 dentist appointment.

I know that what will help me to write this blog post quickly is to give this post a title like “Random Thoughts,” because that will quiet down my critical self, and allow me to just write, rather than judging and rewriting as I go.

I woke up pretty scared this morning, immediately aware of my hip pain, and my associated fear that I have endocarditis.

I wondered if this hip pain is “psychosomatic” — that there is actually nothing wrong with me.

I also have been worrying — now that I’ve blogged about this fear, sharing it with who knows how many people — that sharing this might have been a mistake.

Of course, it’s done, and I can’t undo that, and worrying about what is in the past does not help.

But that worrying has been very pervasive since I posted yesterday, so it might be helpful to look at that for a moment.

What seems to help me — when I’m scared — is to identify a link with my past, when I was a scared little girl in the hospital, dealing with heart problems and surgeries, alone without my parents for most of the time. (I write more about that experience, here.)

I had a pacemaker, starting at age 10, and because technology was so new, the pacemakers would break, a lot. The batteries would run down, the wires would break in various places, once the casing of the pacemaker — which wasn’t strong enough — “got permeated by my body fluids” (I swear I remember them using that exact phrase, when I was a kid).

It’s occurring to me now that my family and I, if we had been a litigious bunch, I suppose, could have sued about this stuff. Because, looking at it now, with the eyes of an adult, in a law-suit-permeated society, I guess we could have “made the case” that they were putting these pacemakers in a child before the pacemakers had been tested enough.

But this was at the dawn of pacemaker technology, and we didn’t have a choice. It was either use new pacemakers or lose me. At least, that was the story the doctors were telling, and i think that was a reasonable story at the time.

I remember my mother telling me the story of how the doctors broke the news to them that they had decided to put a pacemaker in me, at age 10. I had a heart stoppage during an observation visit at the hospital, which the doctors had never witnessed before. We think that my heart had stopped twice before, at that point, because I had fainted, once at home and once in the school yard. “Heart stopppages.” That term might not be accurate, right now, because in all three cases, my heart started up on its own again.

But the doctors still reacted very strongly when I fainted at the hospital, and they realized that my heart had stopped (and then started up again). They totally changed the game plan, and decided to put in a pacemaker the next day. My memories are that they had never even mentioned a pacemaker as a possibility before. (Or maybe they had mentioned it to my parents, who then kept that possibility from me. But I don’t think so.)

So after I fainted in the hospital (which I think was either on November 20th or 21st, 1963), the doctors decided to put in a pacemaker ASAP (which was on Friday, November 22).

That is a date which some readers will recognize immediately. November 22, 1963.

Anyway, I will say more about that in a future post.

So to return to my immediate goal this morning — I want to write a post that is helpful (for me) (and, therefore, perhaps for others) and reasonably coherent, by 7:15, which is 13 minutes from now.

So what is it that is most important for me to communicate this morning?

These random things:

When I am more scared than usual, there is usually an association with my past — when I was (apparently) a terrified little girl, alone in the hospital.

It helps me to name that. It helps remind me that I am NOT a scared little girl, alone in the hospital now.

I have skills I didn’t have then.

I have knowledge I didn’t have then.

I have connections I didn’t have then.

While I feel like I’m alone — while I feel like I have to withdraw from others in order to protect myself — I am not alone.

I think that’s what I needed to write this morning. I feel better now and ready to go out into the world, meet my obligations of the day, and bear my fears about my current medical condition.

However, I have seven more minutes!

So I’ll use the time to write down some other, less crucial random thoughts, dear reader.

Here they are:

When I use the term “dear reader” in my blog (even though both my son and my boyfriend don’t like that term), it’s my way of consciously trying to connect.

I’m good at connecting with people. I had to be, to survive as a little girl alone in the hospital.

I love that I’m good at connecting with people. It makes me good at my job, as a psychotherapist. It adds color and value to my life, every day, at work and everywhere else I go.

When I’m more scared, depressed, in worse mood, “more symptomatic” (whatever language I use for feeling worse), I tend to isolate.

And part of isolating is mind reading — projecting onto others my fears and judgments about my self.

One thing I’ve been doing since I blogged yesterday — which was a tough and important post for me to write — has been feeling some shame about sharing things that feel that personal — and medical — with people I know but also many, many people (even though I don’t know how many) that I don’t know.

It has been occurring to me a lot lately that blogging — sharing in the blogosphere — is very much like doing a therapy group. It evokes a lot of the same benefits — connecting and letting go of old habits and fears — as well as the same fears — have I said too much? will people judge me?

Sometimes I feel like a facilitator (group leader) when I’m doing this “Blogging Group”, and sometimes I’m more of a participant.

When I write about illness and fear, I feel like more of a participant.

Being a participant in a group is riskier than being a facilitator/group leader.

I have three more minutes!

It’s helping me to write down these thoughts.

There are lots of other things that I might write here, because I have lots of thoughts and have had a rich and complex past.

But what feels most important for me to say?

I guess I want to let you know that I have been projecting some old fears and hospital experiences on to you — my readers.

I’ve felt scared because I told you, yesterday, about my fears of having endocarditis. And that got me into a whole series of scary thoughts, which remind me of when I was a kid in the hospital, with a failing pacemaker.

Here are some thoughts that came up when I was a kid thinking something was wrong with me medically (that my pacemaker was failing), and which come up now (that I am afraid I have endocarditis):

Should I tell other people about this?

If I do tell other people about this — that I’m afraid that there is something wrong with my health — something that might be life-threatening — there are some risks.

I might be wrong. If I’m wrong and I got other people scared, I might lose them. They might get annoyed that I caused them unnecessary worry. I might lose credibility with them. “She’s the girl who cried ‘Wolf!’ We stopped listening to her!” And I did feel, when I was a kid, that I had to be right, 100% of the time, when I let people know I feared that my pacemaker was failing. If I was wrong one time, I believed THAT is what would stick — and they would never believe me again. But if I didn’t say something, I might die, because of a faulty pacemaker, which I was aware of, because my heart was skipping, but which was intermittently malfunctioning, so that the doctors could not replicate the problem at first. So i DID need to say something, But I might be wrong.

So being wrong was/is very scary.

I might be right. If I was right, I would need to have surgery (or — if I’m right about the endocarditis, I’ll need to leave work for a while and be on IV antibiotics for 6 weeks, and this will have been the fourth time, and last time, they said they might need to take some drastic measures, like extracting all my teeth) (NO!!!).

So being right was/is very scary.

Okay, I ran three minutes over. I think I can still get to my appointment on time.

I am not reading this over, at all, dear reader, before I post. I might, later, read this over and make some very basic corrections, if my fear is that I’ve lost you too badly. I want you to understand me!

Okay, now I’m done.

One more thing, of course: thanks for reading.

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Day 64: You never know where your day is going to end up

Posted on March 5, 2013 by Ann Koplow

This is going to be a short post because I had a very long day.

And all I want to say today is how my day started and how it ended.

My day started with my sobbing, before I left for work, because I had allowed myself to get in touch with some fears about my health, which I had never really allowed myself to feel before. These fears were a collection of old fears from my childhood and some current fears that I do need to live with, but often deny and suppress. And this morning, because I was talking about these fears to somebody I trust, I allowed myself to feel the fears in a new, very primal way.

And I sobbed.

Then I went to work and lots of things happened.

Then, tonight, I went to a meeting to start planning a high school reunion.  I traveled about 20 miles and about 45 years back in time, to meet with some people with whom I spent several formative years, but whom I have not seen for quite a while.  When I was traveling those 20 miles to the meeting — and because the memories of the past were right there — I had some fears about that meeting. I thought that perhaps these people at the meeting might have judged me in high school and might also judge me tonight.

(I mean, this may be the Year of Living Non-Judgmentally, but we’re talking High School, for cripe’s sake!)

But when I got to the meeting, I realized that everybody there wanted to be there because they felt an urge to reconnect.   And people were as kind as could be to me.

And I was happy to be there with them and to start planning our high school reunion, together.

So, dear reader, that was how my day started and how my day ended.

And I’m happy to be here, now, too.  Thanks for reading.

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Day 61: Accelerated Learning (Part 2)

Posted on March 2, 2013 by Ann Koplow

Okay!  Here’s another in what might be a continuing series of things I’m learning this year — at such an accelerated pace, that I’m reminded of Gary Lockwood’s character in “Where No Man Has Gone Before” from Star Trek (The Original Series).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xeEDtF0bbE

Damn!  I still can’t find a clip that shows Gary’s character learning so rapidly that he speeds through pages he’s reading, really fast. (Although the clip which I ‘ve linked to, above, does show his rapidly acquired mastery of levitating a Cup of the Future, which is probably especially tricky.)

Since I can’t show you the clip I want right now, I’m searching for a good descriptive metaphor for how quickly that Star Trek character learns new things. Like wildfire?   Like Tom Cruise flying some jet in “Top Gun”? ( I’ve never seen “Top Gun”, but that still pops up when I’m trying to think of a metaphor for speed.)  Like some political party member talking to the media about things that are wrong with the other party?

No matter what the metaphor, here’s the deal, dear reader: (1) Gary Lockwood in Star Trek learns really quickly, (2) I’m learning lots of things (although not quite as quickly as him), and (3) you can read more about all that  (with a different clip from that Star Trek episode)  here.

Without further ado, here are more things that I’ve been learning lately, although not quite as rapidly as a Scary, Too-Smart-Becoming Guy on a 60’s TV show:

  1. Projecting fears and critical self-judgments onto other people really screws up a connection in the moment.
  2. Fears about other people’s reactions (anger, envy, fragility) can restrict you, big time.
  3. Worries about whether you’ll be able to sustain or hold on to a current situation, feeling, or thought can really get in the way of appreciating the current moment.
  4. Feeling depressed seems related to focusing on regrets about the past; being anxious seems related to focusing on fears about the future.
  5. It’s really difficult to calibrate and figure out How Important You Are to somebody else (or to a system or an organization).
  6. Taking any action related to How Important You Are can feel very risky, because of #5, above.
  7. You can often do a good enough job at a current task without access to more knowledge or the perfect tools (or the perfect clip from a TV show).
  8. If you don’t have the knowledge or tools to do a job that’s good enough, you can say so, and then find out what you need to complete the task.

That’s all, for now. I hope you enjoyed reading this so much, that it went by as quickly as (fill in your favorite metaphor for speed, here).

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Day 60: Why I’m not listening to the news these days

Posted on March 1, 2013 by Ann Koplow

I used to listen to the news on the radio.

I’ve stopped.

The stories on the news are boring. They’re repetitive.They’re polarized into black and white, with no interesting grays.

The stories on the news have poor character development. People seem simple, reduced to quick definitions. Any shadings seem suspect and facile, provided by others with agendas.

The stories on the news focus on catastrophes. They predict the future and speculate what others are thinking. I hear blaming, all the time. And comparisons. Labeling. Shoulds.  Negative filtering. (The News: a festival of cognitive distortions.)

I can’t listen to news stories any more. I can’t bear the emptiness I find there.

The stories on the news seem arid and soulless, especially compared to the stories I am hearing people tell these days. I get to hear stories that are full-bodied, nuanced, and complex. I am riveted. I believe these stories. I care how they turn out.

The stories I’m choosing to witness these days speak to me of hope, not dread or emptiness.  Whether I encounter them in person or on the blogosphere, these stories are about expansion, not restriction.

I wonder if I’ll ever listen to the news again?

Thanks for reading this story, today.

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