About six months ago (but who’s counting?), I published a blog post with the same title as this one. At the risk of somehow spreading the chaos in today’s news, I want to quote how chaos came up in my group therapy presentation yesterday. This happened in the question and answer period after I described how my open-access groups work in a primary care practice in a renowned teaching hospital in Boston.
Audience member: Ann, I am assuming you are comfortable with chaos. How do you deal with it in your groups, which people can attend as they choose?
Me: When you give people access to the behavioral health care they need, there is less chaos than you might expect.
I actually do not experience chaos in my therapy groups, but I do experience more of it, these days, in the world outside my groups. As I said in my presentation yesterday, I believe people need the support of therapy groups even more in today’s chaotic world.
Yesterday, I was asked to facilitate a group for staff, in addition to my usual Tuesday “Coping and Healing” group. As usual, I was honored to provide a safe-enough space for people to express themselves and to connect with others in a healing way.
In both of the groups, people discussed the tragic events in the news. In one of the groups, the members decided to share and comment on each other’s recent dreams. Whenever I work with dreams in a group, I encourage people to respond to other people’s dreams with “If it were my dream, it might mean ….” People’s dreams included sacrifice, animals, losing a baby, wandering in an enormous house, being chased, and communicating with dead relatives. I mentioned that I’d recently dreamed that I was friends with Stephen Colbert.
If it were your dream, what might those dreams mean to you? What dreams have you been having lately?
I snapped only four photos yesterday, two consciously and the other two unconsciously.
Yesterday, after facilitating a therapy group I loved at work, I went to see my lovely Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) therapist, George. I love EMDR, because it has helped me reduce my anxiety about very unlovely experiences I had in the hospital when I was a child.
Because I’m having open heart surgery at the Mayo Clinic next Wednesday, I loved the opportunity to work with George in reducing my anxiety about that. George and I tried several lovely images to use when I’m going into surgery on September 21, including floating on the top of lovely water or being held by loving hands. I love that I came up with this idea at the end of the session: I said to George, “I shall just see the love in everything.” George loved that, too.
I love reporting to you that after the session, I saw the love in everything and everybody. I love that next week I shall also see the love in:
the lovely Deb, who will drive us to the airport in her lovely Honda Fit,
the security personnel at the airport,
the plane that takes my boyfriend Michael and me to Minneapolis,
the shuttle that transports us to Rochester,
the hotel where we’ll be staying across the street from the hospital before my admission,
all the staff at the Mayo Clinic,
all the tests they’ll give me,
the needles and other things they’ll poke me with,
the questions they’ll ask me,
the operating room,
the hands of my surgeon,
the cardiac care unit,
the machines I’ll be attached to,
the medications they’ll give me,
the tubes going in and out of my body, and
everything and everybody else during my recovery.
Do you see the love in everything I photographed yesterday?
I see the love in those cats named Stormcloud and Peaches, who are being adopted together by some lovely family today.
I see the love in this lovely tune, which my late father sang with love to my late mother at an anniversary celebration.
I will see the love in everything you leave in a comment.
I see the love in all who helped me create this post and in you, here and now.
Last night in a therapy group, nobody was alone — everybody wanted to focus on the topic of being alone.
I, alone, wrote this during the group:
If you have trouble reading that, I’m sure you’re not alone. It says
In ways we are all alone even when we are with others.
In ways we are connected with others even when we are alone.
I did not take that photo, alone. Here are more photos I took yesterday:
I’m going to explain that last photo, alone. I wrote that on my office’s lone whiteboard to show somebody they weren’t alone in eating things that aren’t good for them.
When you think of being alone, what song comes to mind? Am I alone in thinking of this one?
I’m sure I’m not alone in wanting to know I’m not alone today. You can do your part by leaving a comment, below.
Thanks!
When I first published this post alone, a couple of hours ago, I forgot to say that many of us feel more alone today because of the passing of brilliant comedian Garry Shandling. Here’s Conan O’Brien, not alone in missing this man:
I feel lucky that, every day, I find lucky inspirations for my lucky blog posts, like this lucky sign I saw early yesterday on a lucky Saint Patrick’s Day morning:
Even though I didn’t win a prize from any pots of gold, I feel lucky that:
I’ve got a lucky number of consistent and kind readers here at lucky WordPress.
I do group and individual therapy at a luckily large and well-known teaching hospital in lucky Boston, Massachusetts, USA.
My lucky 18 year old son, Aaron, is luckily healthy, happy, and wise.
My lucky boyfriend Michael is lucky enough to have met lucky me.
I’m seeing my lucky cardiologist, Dr. Mark Estes, today, who luckily knows more about pacemakers than almost anybody else in this lucky world of ours.
Today is Friday, which makes a lot of working people feel lucky.
On lucky Thursdays, I am lucky enough to facilitate two therapy groups. Here are all the other photos I was lucky enough to capture yesterday, in lucky chronological order:
While I didn’t order Lucky Hydrox yesterday, I was still lucky enough to
sing from my heart, as I was walking to and from my lucky workplace.
Here’s one lucky song I was lucky enough to be singing, yesterday, with all my heart:
When I sang “Soothe” on my tryout for The Voice last month, I wasn’t lucky enough to make it to the show. However, next month I’ll be lucky enough to sing “Soothe” for my fellow social workers at our lucky yearly party.
Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to see and hear a recording of me singing it, here.
I hope I’m lucky enough to get lots of lucky comments today.
That’s an important topic, isn’t it? How to change minds. I’m certain that — at this very moment — advertisers, politicians, and many others are trying their best to figure out how to change minds.
Yesterday, in a therapy group, we changed our minds several times about which activity to choose, based on the issues people brought into the group room and the resulting 45-minute group discussion.
I had some trouble deciding whether to choose the mind-changing group activity of:
Creating a t-shirt with an important, personal slogan or
Answering the question that somebody in the group had raised: “What does it take to change people’s minds?”
Because I change my mind many times before making decisions, I decided to combine both of those mind-changing activities, as you can see:
Before you change your mind about me, I want to explain that ‘Killing It” is an idiom — in these changing times — for having a passionate commitment (about changing things or about anything else). My changing mind is also noticing, here and now, that I included “songs” twice as I was designing my personal mind-changing t-shirt. Do you agree with me that songs and music are particularly important for changing people’s minds?
Do coincidences change people’s minds? I’m noticing that the last word on my t-shirt and the first word in that “The Times They Are a-Changin’” video have no changes at all. That is, my t-shirt ends and that Bob Dylan video starts with the same mind-changing word — “Quest.”
In my quest to change minds in a helpful way at work and elsewhere, I sometimes use words and I sometimes use images. Here are some mind-changing images from yesterday, when I considered (among other things):
changing the number of rooms where I offer group therapy and
how teachers at my son’s high school change minds, every day.
Did any of those photos (or anything else in this post) change your mind about anything that’s important to you?
If you express your mind in a comment below, you may change minds, too.
Mind-changing thanks to Bob Dylan, to my son’s teachers, to every person, place and thing I encountered yesterday that changed my mind, and to you — of course! — for your beautifully changing mind, today.
I’ve been noticing many different types of expansion lately, including:
the expansion of tasks and obligations to fill every available moment, unless I consciously and continually reserve time for self-care,
building and construction expansions near where I work in Boston,
the expansion of the number of classmates attending my high school reunion this coming Saturday,
the expansion of hope for people who feel supported by others in therapy,
the possible expansion of my group therapy practice to include people who do not have doctors at the Boston teaching hospital where I work, and
this great tune by Pat Metheny, which expanded three times yesterday through my earphones during my expansive walks to and from work:
When I saw Pat Metheny appear on stage alone playing “Expansion” — surrounded by the expansion of all those incredible new instruments in his Orchestrion — that expanded my mind, my heart, and my soul. If you’d like any expansion of your knowledge and understanding about Pet Metheny’s Orchestrion, I’ve expansively included this link.
Today, I’m facing the expansion of all these tasks and obligations:
Individual therapy where I work,
Group therapy where I work,
Checking out office space, as I possibly expand my therapy practice,
Meeting all of my son’s new teachers (who I hope will be contributing to the expansion of his fine mind and understanding of the world around us), and
A board meeting of the Northeast Society of Group Psychotherapy, an organization which contributes to the expansion of group therapy practice around here.
I think every photo I took yesterday, while I was listening to “Expansion,” relates to the title of today’s post.
If you were going to choose one of those images to represent “Expansion,” which one would it be?
If you have any thoughts or feelings about the expansions expanding in this post, I hope you expansively leave a comment in the expanse below.
An expansion of gratitude to Pat Metheny; to people who explore the expansion of hopes and options in individual and group therapy; to teachers everywhere who contribute to the expansion of young minds; to every person, place, organization, animal, and thing that expands my universe; and to you — of course! — for the expanse of time you spent here, today.
Last night, in a therapy group, we focused in the concept of “taking a break”‘(among many other issues).
I am taking a break in this post, already, to interject my belief that “taking a break” was on people’s minds last night partly because their friendly neighborhood group facilitator (that’s me) will be taking a vacation break for the next two weeks.
During the group last night, we discussed how difficult it can be for people to
take breaks, to get some much-needed rest, and
get breaks, from bad luck and other unfortunate circumstances beyond their control.
When I start my two-week vacation tomorrow, I hope I can get breaks from
… but I work hard at getting breaks from those, even when I am not on vacation.
I am taking another break, in this post, to wonder why taking breaks from worry, fear, etc. is SO difficult for me and other humans beings. Geeesh!!! Can’t we ever get a break?
At this point, I am not sure how I am going to get breaks during my trip next week to Edinburgh, Scotland, to send my daily posts to you, through WordPress.
But, PLEASE do not suggest that I take a break from WordPress during my travels, dear readers! I hope I’ve broken through any doubts about something, by blogging daily, since January 1, 2013, through
So, as I like to say, in individual therapy, group therapy, and elsewhere:
We’ll figure it out.
I just hope my thumbs don’t break, with all this typing on my friggin’ iPhone keyboard.
Let’s see what other images I captured on my iPhone, during breaks in the action yesterday:
I took a break during a mindfulness exercise in my 3 PM group to notice that this Buddha on my desk looked like he was laughing. That gave me one of my most delightful breaks of the day.
I took a break during that same group to respond to a group member’s request for guidance in dealing with a difficult family situation.
Then, when my day was done, I took some breaks during the walk to my work garage to snap these seven photos:
I know that Fenway Park in Boston (glimpsed in most of those photos) , was filled last night with thousands of lucky people taking breaks to enjoy two of my favorite musicians — James Taylor and Bonnie Raitt. While I would love to see them both performing live some day, I would never take a break from my therapy groups to do that.
I am taking another break to inform you that WordPress, this morning, is taking MUCH longer breaks than usual, uploading my photos. I wonder if — after posting so many photos for so many consecutive days — I’ve finally broken WordPress.
I just took a break from writing this post to create more storage space for my photos on WordPress, by breaking down the number of pixels for several old pictures here (including some I took during a previous visit to Edinburgh). That gave me a wonderful break to remember how beautiful Edinburgh is.
That’s not one of the photos I just broke down, but I’m sure that my son Aaron (breaking into a smile on the left), my ex-sister-in-law Deborah, and I will soon be seeing Professor Neal Portenza (right) in his new show titled “Catchy Show Title” at the 2015 Edinburgh Festival Fringe (which opened last night!!).
I’m going to take one more break for myself to post one more photo here, of cats taking a break:
A beautiful break of thanks to Bonnie Raitt, to James Taylor, to Cin CA (for posting that video on YouTube), to Aaron, to Deborah, to Dr. Neal Portenza, to all the people in my therapy groups, to everybody who took a healing break yesterday, to cool cats everywhere, and to you — OF COURSE! — for taking a break to visit me here, today.
I’m not sure how to characterize my day yesterday. Maybe you can help me put words on what kind of day it was.
Yesterday was a day when I:
created and ordered this t-shirt online,
got a flat tire on the way in to work, after my car met up with one of the kashmillion friggin’ potholes in my fine, snow-ravaged hometown of Boston,
was enough of an expert on the experience of flat tires that I was able to take care of that and get to work only five minutes late,
got my taxes done,
had some macaroni and cheese in the cafeteria of the hospital where I work,
met with somebody who was very interested in my therapy groups,
took these photos,
posted this in a Facebook group for people who have (or who love somebody who has) a very unusual heart like mine:*
I have a question, group! I am a 62 year old with cctga who developed a-fib in September 2013, and my doctors are now considering valve replacement. I’ve been hearing a lot lately about how adults with cctga become more prone to sudden cardiac death as we grow older. One of the cardiologists I’ve been consulting seems amazed that I have made it into my 60’s. Have other people heard about this as a problem?
One of my cardiologists is recommending that we replace my current pacemaker with a pacemaker/defibrillator combo before we do a valve replacement — an intervention I personally prefer because it’s less invasive. Actually, here’s another question: this same cardiologist says that if they replace my valve, this might actually make me worse. He is concerned they will put me on a machine during the valve surgery and will not be able to take me off of it because of the increased pressure to my heart because of the new valve.
Any thoughts, answers, questions about sudden cardiac death for people with cctga in their 50’s, 60’s, or beyond or about valve replacement dangers for people like me? Many thanks.
received several heartfelt and informative responses to that post– that helped me feel hopeful, sad, scared, upset, happy, worried, calm, surprised, and delighted — including this one:
Ann?! I’m like two towns over! I can’t believe that somebody with my condition is so close.
What kind of day was yesterday? What kind of words might describe it, for you?
I’d say that yesterday was the same kind of day as any other day:
A day that changed from moment to moment.
A day in which I had all my feelings.
A day of potholes and successes.
A day when I could connect with others, if I reached out.
I wonder what kind of day today will be? Here’s one thing I know so far.
Today is a day when I’ve heard the song “Yesterday.”
What kind of day is it, for you?
Thanks to the Beatles, to all who helped make my day yesterday, and to people with hearts of all kinds, especially you!
* What kind of heart did I have yesterday? One with congenitally corrected transposition of the great arteries (cctga). The same kind of heart I have today.
