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Strength from pain

November 21, 2006 by

I currently am teaching another class of wonderful women who are in the first phase of acquiring professional stature in the field of family therapy. Many of these women have been working informally for years as advisors and counselors and teachers. Many simply have the insight and will to help others.

This week, they completed an assignment I had given them in which they had to assess themselves in terms of what they were bringing of themselves to the therapy relationship. All of them were candid and open to discovering themselves. Virtually all of them understood something that is little understood elsewhere, but should be. They understood that many of their greatest strengths came from the adversity they had suffered. Their ability to withstand the challenges they had been given enabled them to become stronger. Their having lived through adversity enables them to understand others who are enduring or who have endured similar challenges and to be able to understand the complex web of feelings that pain and suffering activate. They understand that one can feel hurt and angry and embarrassed and ashamed and frightened and abandoned and worried– all at the same time. That tangle of emotions is what makes people unable to express themselves because it is all so confusing. My students understand that having gone through such tangles of feelings, they are sensitized to others’ feelings and able to understand them and provide the support that others need.

Many years ago a doctor (who neglected to read an x-ray report that the radiologist had written that identified the pain in my hip as a stress fracture) and had sent me for a bone scan, became convinced that I had a tumor and sent me for a stat CAT scan and an MRI. He explained that if it were a tumor, it would be secondary to cancer somewhere else in my body. I naturally believed at that point that I was looking at the last of my days. I began to see the world differently. I realized how future oriented speech is and how detached I already was becoming from the world of people whose futures stretched out ahead of them. I remembering passing a cemetery where a funeral was taking place in the rain and thinking that soon I would have my day. Somewhere in all of that, I remember thinking that if it turned out that I was OK, then I was having the most unbelievably enriching experience because from then on, I would know what it feels like to think that one’s days were ending.

The results were, of course, good. It was only a couple of years later when I was transferring my records that the original radiologist’s report fell out of the large x-ray envelope and I saw the cause of my pain. However, because of that experience I was able over the years to relate in a more relevant and compassionate way to people who had terminal diagnoses.

One of the paradoxes of life is that adversity can build understanding and compassion and that having suffered pain becomes an asset in terms of bringing caring and kindness to the world.

My students are all lovely women. They will go out into their communities and bring with them not only their enthusiasm and caring, but their deep understanding of others and most important, the knowledge that adversity often builds strength.

Filed Under: Emotional health, Relationships, Spirituality

Worries

October 22, 2006 by

A thousand years ago. when I was newly pregnant with my first child, I was all too aware of everything that could go wrong with a pregnancy. Many of the people we saw socially were physicians and pretty much all of them had at least one horror story to tell me about a tragic pregnancy or a severely deformed baby. Within a week or two of telling people I was pregnant, I was convinced that no one ever survived a pregnancy or had delivered a normal baby. So I worried…

But I told myself that once I got through the first trimester, I wouldn’t have to worry since most miscarriages happen before that point. Of course I soon came to realize that that wasn’t the end of the worrying, because prematurity too was a danger and so if the pregnancy lasted 27 weeks, there was an outside chance that the baby would survive (since that was the earliest gestational age at which a baby had survived at that time in history). But then I realized that I wouldn’t really be able to stop worrying until the baby was born. Because only then would I know that he or she was whole and healthy (this was long before the days of ultrasound imaging in pregnancy).

But when my beautiful perfect son was born and I began to attach to him and feel overwhelming love, I realized that I didn’t know that he would develop normally. After all, there was no guarantee. So I worried. I worried about his vision. He must have known Iwas concerned because I can recall being awed by that fact that as I held him in the hospital, he focused on a light in the ceiling of the corridor, and as I swayed with him, his eyes held the light, compensating for my movements. Then my concern changed to his growing normally. Again, my child was enormously reassuring, gaining well. I worried about his hearing, but the noise of my dropping things in the house eventually caught his attention. I worried about whether he would turn over, crawl, walk, and talk, and as each of these milestones was reached, I focused my worry on the next one. Would he be able to learn to read? to write? to add and subtract? Would have friends?

As the school years passed, I still wasn’t out of the woods. I worried. Would he be able to succeeed in high school? Will he be able to resist the temptation of smoking, alcohol, and drugs? Will he learn to become appropriately independent and still stay close to me emotionally?

I kept looking for an end to the worry, but every stage that passed only opened up a new set of worries.

When he left for college far far away from me, over the sea, in a time before there were cell phones, before dorm rooms had telephones, before there even were pay phones in the hallways, I worried. We exchanged letters regularly, but even good mail service made any turnaround ten days long. If I wrote a question to him, it would take a minimum of 5 days for him to receive it and if he wrote an answer the same day, it took a minimum of 5 days to get back to me. So any word from him was precious and the distance did not help my feelings of worry subside.

Once he finished university, a whole new source of worries arose. He was going to the Army. Hostile people who want to kill him with lethal weapons will get a chance to do that. I didn’t like that one bit.

And then there was the question of who he would marry. The day I met his bride to be, that worry was over. She was lovely. I could stop worrying. I even told her that with their marriage, he becomes hers. Their wedding was a very happy occasion. I thought that was the end of the worrying.

But then there was my daughter-in-law’s first pregnancy when she became ill and I feared for her. I worried about the baby she was carrying. Blessedly, she recovered and he was perfect.

But finally I understood. Once you’re a mom, the worrying never stops. First it is about the child and later, one worries too about his/her spouse and later, if we are particularly blessed, it is about the grandchildren. The joy, the pride, the love, the warmth, the caring, the kindness, all make it more than worthwhile, but you can’t help but worry.

Filed Under: Emotional health, Family life, Parenting, Ramblings, Spirituality

Oh my soul!

October 19, 2006 by

I don’t know how much other people think about their souls. I am not even aware of when I first began thinking of mine. It might have started that summer at camp when each morning, before we began our prayers, one of the counselors would talk in depth about one of the prayers we were about to recite. The prayer I remember is one that began, “my G-d, the soul you have given me is pure…”

I was overwhelmed with the thought of the gift I had been given. Imagine! All of us were given a pure soul as a gift at birth. Realizing that, I understood that I had an obligation to keep it pure.

I began to think of what fouls the soul. Surely hatred, clearly hurtful acts, jealousy, insensitivity, and deceit. All of those are products of our own making– all things we can teach ourselves to avoid. We can reason, plan, understand, and choose how we act. As we change our behavior, our thoughts and feelings also change.

But what of outside influences? How do we ensure that the soul is not polluted?

Portrayals of violence pollute the soul. They reduce human beings to mere flesh and blood, as dispensible as an old newspaper. Sensational news with details of violence, injury, sadistic acts, and murder pollute the soul. Details of torture, graphic pictures pollute the soul.

Just thinking about all this makes me want to flee to the safety of things that enrich and nourish my soul. And the world is full of so many:

The closeness of my husband, the warmth of my children, the sweetness of my grandchildren, the kindness of my friends and relatives, the warmth of the sun, the blueness of the sky, the garden glistening with dew, the trees, heavy with fruit, the aroma of jasmine and lemon and roses, the sparkling of the night sky, the smile of a stranger, the ability to walk hand in hand…

And memories- of people I loved, of beautiful places, of Shubert’s “Unfinished Symphony” in St. Marco’s Square in Venice and of “Aida” at the Baths of Caracalla in Rome and of “The Nutcracker” at the St. Petersburg Conservatory- and earlier in Lawton, Oklahoma. Memories of my wedding and the early days of marriage, of giving birth to each of the children and the triumphant arrival home…

There are so many.

Sometimes as the days and weeks go by, we forget that our soul needs maintenance. We need to keep ourselves free of hatred and unkindness and insensitivity, guard ourselves from the assault of pollution from the outside world, and nourish our souls with the healthy elements of our life and experience.

Filed Under: Emotional health, Family life, Spirituality

Training parents– Part 2

September 22, 2006 by

Visiting time boundaries

Fictional Donna and David have been working the last two days to enforce phone boundaries. It is difficult. Donna’s mother always has “one more thing” to say before she hangs up. Donna is working at a quick, “Well, I’ve got to go now, goodbye” hangup before her mother goes on to the next topic. David has less difficulty telling Donna’s parents that Donna is busy now and that he has a lot he needs to get done. David realizes that if he just changes his language, things go easier. If he tells Donna’s parents he “would like to” or “should” get something done, they continue talking. If he says that he “needs to” do something, they wind down a bit and he’s able to do the quickie, “thanks for calling, bye.” So they are seeing a bit of progress in their handling of her parents’ intrusions.

In general, now that Donna is beginning to see the problem as a boundary problem rather than something wrong with her parents or with her, she is less defensive and she sees that she and David are on the same side.

The next task they have is to teach Donna’s parents that there are boundaries on their visiting. That isn’t to say that Donna’s parents aren’t welcome. In fact, they can be delightful with the children and of course Donna has a great deal of affection for them. What they don’t want is for her parents’ controlling behavior to get in the way of the possibility of pleasant times together.

They have noticed a few conditions that seem to accompany negative interactions:

1. There are times when Donna’s parents just show up. They come in and expect Donna to drop everything to talk with them. Donna’s mother invariably comments that the house is “a mess.”

2. It seems that the longer they stay, the more controlling they become.

3. There are certain subjects that seem to set them off.

4. There are reactions that seem to make them become even more emphatic

With those in mind, let’s see what Donna and David can do.

The first thing is that they can tell Donna’s parents that they would really appreciate a call from them when they are thinking of visiting. That would allow Donna to let them know if it’s a good time for her and would enable her to get the house straightened up and to sit and talk with them rather than being in the middle of folding laundry or making a meal or some other household task. They should tell Donna’s parents that when the visits are spontaneous, Donna never feels as if she can just sit and enjoy their company and she would like them to see her at her best and not her frazzled worst!

When her parents call, she should be honest and tell them a time that is acceptable to her. She should also put a limit on the visit. “Mom, I would love for you come over at 10, but I am going to need to go out at about 11.”

She really should not discuss with her parents where she might be going or what she will be doing. That only encourages intrusiveness.

If there are subjects that set them off, then obviously, Donna and David should avoid them. If Donna and David encourage her parents to talk about their own activities, they will minimize the advice-giving. If there is really something that her parents can offer them in terms of experience and knowledge, they should ask her parents for help so that they will have the pleasure of helping their daughter.

David and Donna also need to become sensitive to the types of responses that make her parents go into high gear. One would be opposing their ideas or giving counter-examples. Donna’s mother, for example, may think that the baby will have colic if his feet aren’t covered even in 90 degree weather. Rather than opposing that as ridiculous, Donna and David can say “You might be right,” and nod their heads thoughtfully. Ideas and attitudes that have no immediate application should not be debated. When Donna’s parents are confronted, they will always charge on. The best thing to do is to listen and nod. The goal in interactions with them is not to win on logic and not to show how independent David and Donna are. It is to maintain a warm relationship. David and Donna are under no obligation to comply with her parents’ advice.

If Donna and David are able to begin building these boundaries, they will notice that the stress that they are under will begin to lessen and their own relationship will be enhanced.

Filed Under: Emotional health, Family life, Parenting, Relationships

Training parents– Part 1

September 20, 2006 by

Well, since you asked….

Many people have the same concern: Why can’t my/my spouse’s parents understand that we are adults who are caring for our own children? Why do they think we can’t make healthy decisions on our own? Why do they think they have to tell us what to do?

The simple answer is that for some reason, these grandparents/ parents of adults forgot that their children grew up. They don’t know how to offer support without imposing control. The tighter they attempt to hold on to control, the stronger the adult child’s need to put some distance between him/herself and the parent.

Often, this creates friction in the younger couple. In general, people want to be kind and loving toward their parents, but the parents’ actions can make that difficult.

Let’s take David and Donna, two fictional people who we are meeting for the first time today. David’s parents live at a great distance from them, but they maintain telephone contact and most of the time the interactions with them are pleasant, if not extremely close. Donna, on the other hand, lives only a few blocks away from her parents. Donna’s mother calls her several times a day. She asks her what she is feeding her children for each meal, what clothing size the baby is, how much weight Donna has lost since the baby’s birth. In addition, Donna’s father needs to know how much money Donna and David are putting into savings each month and whether David has found a good financial analyst. He also asks Donna questions about David’s work that even she doesn’t know the answers to. On their frequent, unplanned visits, Donna’s mother checks out the amount of dust under the sofa and comments on the dirty dishes in the sink. Donna’s father suggests that the houseplants need to be fertilized and they are being under-watered.

Is it any wonder that David blows his top after every interaction with Donna’s parents? He resents not only their interference in his life, but also their interference in Donna’s. Donna too resents her parents badgering, but she feels angry when David points it out. She even sometimes says things like, “Oh, so your parents are so perfect– like if we all died they wouldn’t know until a week from Tuesday when they get around to calling again.” David, of course, then responds with something like, “Well at least they aren’t always in my face; your parents are suffocating me!” Donna, feeling defensive then responds with something like, “Well, at least they care!”

And so on.

The truth is that the problem is not with David and Donna. It is that Donna’s parents have not yet figured out that she grew up. She no longer asks them for money and she has made good decisions. But somehow, they haven’t gotten it that she grew up! Perhaps they are so used to being in control that they don’t know how to give it up. Perhaps they don’t know another way to be close to their adult daughter. And perhaps their life lacks other sources of connection and satisfaction.

Think of it… It take a lot of energy to be controlling. When would one have time to have fun?

Clearly, Donna’s parents are not going to change on their own. The change in the relationship has to come from both David and Donna. They need to redefine the problem as inappropriate boundaries. Simply put, Donna’s parents have been breaching the marital fence that David and Donna have constructed. Somehow or other, the “no trespassing” signs have not been seen or taken seriously. David and Donna need to strengthen that fence. Depending on the types of intrusion, there are several strategies.

Today let’s start with time boundaries

Telephone:

There should be clear “call” and “no call” hours. Donna’s parents should be informed that because of their family activities and Donna’s need for things like sleep and a shower and feeding the baby and cleaning and straightening and cooking, it is not a good idea to call before x hour in the morning or after x hour at night. If a phone call does come in at those hours, then David or Donna needs to politely say, “I’m sorry, this isn’t a good time; can you call me at [and supply a time within the call hours]?” If they persist, say, “I really do want to hear what you have to say, but I need to put down the phone now. ‘Talk to you later. Goodbye.”

I know it sounds harsh, but it is necessary to be clear and consistent. Hints won’t make it! They need to know that there is no talking or listening outside of normal talk/listening hours.

Next time: Visiting time boundaries

Filed Under: Emotional health, Family life, Parenting, Relationships Tagged With: , ,

Parents

September 17, 2006 by

When we enter the world, they are there. Our parents. They are there to love us, nurture us, teach us, guide us. They are, of course, only human, so despite the love they feel for us, they may say and do things that harm us physically or emotionally. But still, we look to them for guidance and for approval. So strong is the drive for a parent’s love that an overly close attachment is frequently a sign of overt child abuse. The child, thinking himself the cause of the parent’s anger, tries desperately to regain the parent’s love.

As we go through life, our parents are our guides and protectors. They help us understand the world. They teach us their values. They work to give us all of the things that they want us to have. When we don’t meet their expectations, they disapprove. They lecture. They punish. But they do it because they want us to be the best we can be. They want to be proud of us.

So we struggle between our desire to have a close relationship with them and our desire to find ourselves. Throughout our teen years, we discover our own values. In our twenties, we test those values in the real world, and by our thirties, if we are lucky, we finally know who we are.

All this time, our parents are fading into the sidelines. Now instead of being directors of our lives, they are the critics. They offer their opinions— thumbs up, thumbs down. Sometimes they offer guilt trips. But they are there. They are always there for us to connect to and draw from. They offer their experience, their expertise, their love.

And most of the time, our relationship with them is complex. We love them and they drive us crazy. We want to be close to them and we wish they would leave us alone.

And then, if we are lucky, they grow older, and they need us to help them out. As their physical strength wanes, we must take on the caregiving nurturing role. Sometimes that offers a chance to connect in a new way. Sometimes it becomes a test of wills and a difficult challenge for the children. But always, the parent remains a parent and his or her love is what the child desires.

And they when they have gone, we children begin to realize anew how precious were moments that we shared with them. We remember our mother’s laughter, her blush of self-consciousness, her clever wit, her unbounded energy. We remember our father’s gentle voice, his soft touch, his optimism and his appreciation of beautiful things.

We hold these within us and cherish them. We take on these qualities to honor them and remember them. We understand the fragility of life. We know that patience, a kind word, a smile can heal and we know that if we want to live a life with few regrets, that we have to remember that we never know when a goodbye will be the last one.

Filed Under: Emotional health, Family life, Parenting, Ramblings, Relationships

At loose ends

August 25, 2006 by

One of the things I learned as a young mother is that children need structure. Their world needs to be predictable. They need to know what to expect. That structure and predictability are part of what provides security.

Well, here I am, an adult, at least chronologically, and with the end of the active warfare, I am still at loose ends. The war, in a way, provided a structure. The bad guys are trying to kill my people. The good guys are putting on uniforms to go and defend us. We are going to fight until the bad guys give up and understand they can’t do this any more.

But that isn’t what happened. The bad guys (shorthand for the people who want to kill all of my relatives) still have their weapons, still have designs on killing us, and through some sick (and I really mean SICK) process, the sympathy of the world.

So yes, I am at loose ends.

But I am convinced it’s not just I who am not able to resume real life. Today at the supermarket I bumped into a friend. She said that she was looking forward to going to a musical evening because she’s been so out of sorts. She told me that this morning she had burst out crying.

I knew what she meant because there are times when after reading or listening to the news or even just thinking about the situation our country is in, I feel on the verge of tears.

Our Prime Minister is out of touch with reality, still thinking that concessions will win us love. Our Defense Minister didn’t know that Hezbollah was a real threat. Our Army Chief of Staff ran a campaign that was ill-equipped, ill-designed, and didn’t achieve any of the country’s objectives. Our President is being questioned about sexual harrassment allegations as is our formerJustice Minister (he resigned this past week)…

And Iran is still saying that it will destroy us and the UN whose charter such a statement violates, has said and done nothing. The Iranians continue to work on their uranium enrichment program and people think that we have plenty of time to do something to prevent them from attacking not just us, but the rest of the non-Islamic world.

It feels like events are just spinning out of control.

Filed Under: Emotional health, Israel

Get over it!

August 23, 2006 by

A while back I wrote about being a grownup. Recently, I have been thinking once more about grown-up behavior. Judith Viorst wrote the book that I might have written called “Grown-Up Marriage.” In it she talks in depth on the subject– in a very entertaining manner, by the way. I highly recommend it.

But being a grown-up is important in all of our relationships. All of us have values. There are behaviors that we dislike in others. Yet, sometimes when we see others “behaving badly,” particularly our family members, we forget what our values are and we violate them by getting hostile, sarcastic, and worse. We forget that we really like being loving accepting people. Worse, if the other person has acted in an unkind or thoughtless manner, he or she may have just been having an off day and perhaps wasn’t thinking. If we allow that behavior to fracture a relationship that we had valued, then we are violating our own values. Sure, the other person was thoughtless. Sure, he/she shouldn’t have said or done what he/she said or did, but if we are grownups and value the relationships we have with our family members, we realize that a fractured relationship reverberates throughout the family and forgiveness and reconciliation must occur for the family as a whole to heal.

Sure, we are hurt. Sure, we feel devalued. But we need to get over it. Pride in one’s self can come from being the grown-up and getting back to the business of creating harmony and warmth and security and love with those who we care about.

Filed Under: Emotional health, Family life, Relationships

Grandparents

June 18, 2006 by

Next week I am going to be talking to a group about making memories for your grandchildren. I have asked my children to collect stories about grandparents from their children and to share any memories they might have as well. I would welcome anyone’s input. Specifically, what are some memories you have of your grandparents? What things did they do with you or for you or say to you that were important to you? If you have a story you would like to share, please do.

Oh, and HAPPY FATHERS DAY to all of those loving and terrific men who mean so much to their children and grandchildren! Check out today’s Writer’s Almanac for a special Father’s Day edition. Make sure you bring your handkerchief.

Filed Under: Emotional health, Family life, Parenting

Loyalty

June 14, 2006 by

My first awareness of the Holocaust was, probably like most children who grew up in the 50s, the story of Anne Frank. I didn’t even need to read her diary; the story was being told everywhere—in school, at home, on television. What I understood was that Anne, a girl like me, had had the misfortune to live in the wrong place at the wrong time and had died all too young as a result of the evil perpetrated by the Nazis.

The story touched me on a very deep level. I had lived while she had died. She had deserved to live as much as I had, but I was alive and she was not. And therefore, in some way, I had to make it up to her. I had to fulfill the wishes and hopes she might have had. I had to do all of the good that Anne and other girls like her had not been able to do themselves. I owed it to them. I owed it to their memories.

It was a burden, however, it was necessary. And it didn’t feel like a burden that could be shared with other Jewish girls my age. It felt like a personal obligation that I myself had to fulfill.

As time went on, I took on more obligations. I felt obligated to make my parents and grandparents proud of me. My maternal grandmother became so close to me that her suggesting that Hebrew school was important was enough to make me continue on through Hebrew college long after she passed away. It was to honor her and to pay her back for the warmth and love she showed me. I adopted the obligation toward my maternal great-grandmother, a woman for whom I was named and about whom I know very little. I learned that she was hospitable and it was to her that all of the new immigrant relatives would come when they reached the US. They would stay with her until they found themselves employment and homes. And so being hospitable was a way of paying back my obligation to this woman I had never met, but who gave birth to my grandmother who bore my mother to whom I owe loyalty as well.

So it comes with such pain to me when I see young people throwing aside their ties with their past. It pains me not only in a cosmic sense in which kindnesses of the past deserve loyalty in the present, but it pains me because what they throw away is precisely what helps to make life significant.

Many years ago, I took a course called “General Semantics.” Our professor spoke of the major difference between humans and animals being that people are “effective time-binders”—that we are able to transmit experience from one person and from one generation to another. When people reject the good that has come before them, are they not diminishing themselves as humans? Isn’t preserving what was best in those who came before us not only the just and right and good thing to do, but exactly what makes life significant and helps us find meaning in a seemingly random world?

I wonder.

Filed Under: Emotional health, Family life, Spirituality
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