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A few weeks ago, I was hurrying to a medical appointment that I didn’t particularly want to go to, already cutting the time close.
As I made my way to my physician’s office, I was a little dazed and disoriented because I mistakenly parked on the wrong side of the megadeck, a 7-story parking garage adjacent to the hospital I was visiting. In my confusion, I urgently darted about, backtracked, and retraced my steps managing only to spin myself around like a blindfolded child getting ready to pin the tail on the donkey.
Of course, I began to murmur to myself, blaming all the usual external suspects for my lateness: poor garage signage, an absent security guard, and why not, the traffic. Left out of my blame-game were the main and more accurate culprits: my stubborn procrastination and endless dilly-dallying. Those extra sips of coffee and final outfit change before leaving the house didn’t help matters. Besides, I should well know by now that morning time is measured in dog years. Agitated, stressed, and hopelessly late, I resigned myself to the fact that I would miss this important appointment, the one booked nearly 3 months ago. At that exact moment, I spotted a woman about a half block from where I was standing (panting) and decided to flag her down by waving (okay, flailing) my arms. Her hospital scrubs signaled to me that she was likely a safe and friendly person, someone who would know how to help me pin the tail (my anxiety) on the donkey (my destination).
What happened next is something I won’t soon forget, and I suspect neither will she.
I explained where I was going. I was on my way to a big cancer center in the NY Metro area for a routine but necessary follow up visit. My breast cancer was successfully treated two years ago. This stranger was an employee of the center but was also a patient there and was still in the midst of her own treatment. As we clarified the details of exactly which department I was headed toward, we found ourselves comparing notes about our treatment journeys, an exchange more typically reserved for friends than perfect strangers.
It’s hard sometimes to talk about one’s cancer without becoming emotional. As we spoke, tears of recognition welled up in us both. In that shared exchange, this woman and I were sisters. And in the depth of that moment, we became so much more. Without hesitation, we joined hands and prayed together at the entrance to that parking deck. Time stood still as we invoked a higher power, summoning comfort and strength for ourselves and one another.
Our prayer was an affirmative one, meaning, there was no beseeching, no imploring as a child might when praying for a new bike. This prayer happened to call forth what each of us already knew and knows for ourselves: that by focusing on what can go right vs what can go wrong, we can call forth a higher power to support us, sustain us, lift us and fortify us in challenging times. I don’t recall the exact words we said as we prayed and there may have been some slight clumsiness involved (so what follows is smoothed out), but they were something like, “I affirm that each and every cell in my body temple and yours is infused with a vibrant life force, and I am filled with vitality and wholeness. My mind, body, and spirit are in perfect harmony, and I am strong, resilient, and at peace.”
Now, of course, everyone who chooses to pray does so differently. Everyone has her own belief system, or no belief system. All this to say that coincidentally, or … serendipitously, … or magically, … or flukishly, ours matched.
Our chance encounter turned into a sacred moment, a reminder that God/Universe/Spirit or whatever name one chooses, if one chooses any name at all, is always present, often in disguise.
We parted ways. For me, the impact of our encounter will stay with me, always. In that 5-minute conversation, it felt to me as though each of us was some version of, as one of my favorite novelists, Anne Lamott put it, “God in drag,” masquerading as strangers but embodying the Divine and expressing our exquisitely simple humanity.
This experience reminded me that even in the midst of fear and uncertainty, something greater is at work and in fact, working through me. And I believe working through my stranger-sister whose path I will likely never again cross but whose tenderness remains a fingerprint on my heart.
I began to wonder: does each of us carry the power not only to love, but to be love itself?
On second thought, no … I don’t wonder. I simply say yes.
PS
I not only made it to my appointment, but the doctor was apologetically behind schedule, and I waited for him for 20 minutes. It was a fine day.
- please make an allowance for my lop-sided use of the feminine gender in my newsletters. my intention is to include all genders, but the language is clumsy.
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It’s a common problem. The need to feel productive.
The drive to function intensely in our work or personal lives can be a double-edge sword. On the one hand, it can lead to significant achievements and a sense of accomplishment. On the other, it can drain our energy and its reserves if not managed well. Balanced mental and emotional health calls for shades of productivity while paying attention to our body’s need for calm and relaxation. Existing in a constant state of hyper-arousal (adrenaline junkies, please come to the front of the room!) may have us feeling productive, dynamic and “in the know,” however our bodies simply were not designed to be that alert all the time. Slowing our engines may seem as though we’re slacking or being unproductive, but the truth (according to science, not to mention conventional wisdom) is that any machine that is overworked will simple peter out, burn up or malfunction. Think of how you treat your own body. Do you push it to the limit, ask too much of it, ignore signs of wear and tear? If so, consider that you may be headed for a potential problem in the long run.
As you reflect on you own emotional reserves, it is helpful to examine where the “leaky holes” may be. These are the places where our energy leaks out, oftentimes without realizing it. One major source of energy drain is how often we say “Yes” to the expectations, requests or demands of others. This is not to say that others are the cause of one’s problems. If you find yourself saying “Yes” far too frequently, then the question to ask yourself is “What is the reason that compels me to say “Yes” even when doing so may not be in my best interest? Do your yeses have to do with needing to be liked, pleasing, agreeable? Are your yeses your insurance policy against feeling rejected or having someone displeased with you? Are they self-esteem tokens that you dole out like dollar bills to keep people happy with you or connected to you? These are the sort of questions that can take you toward a deeper dive of your true motivations and as a result, your healthiest self.
Saying “No” at times is not necessarily a rejection of another but rather an affirmation of you. Think about that for a moment. Our “No” is one of the primary gatekeepers to our wellbeing. No one can do that for us. We alone control how many times we open and close the gate. The following are several ways in which we can monitor and handle our susceptibility to an energy drain. Review them and do a quick assessment of your mental and emotional tank.
Boundaries of time, space, noise, money. Do you set and maintain them?
Quality rest. Do you allow yourself to get enough sleep or quality downtime?
Delegate. Do you let others do their fair share of things? Do you ask for help or support when you need to?
Digital breaks. Can you separate from your devices? If not, what makes this so difficult?
Nature and movement. Do you get out in nature and move your body as you do?
Alone time. Do you occasionally give yourself some solitude or do you do all you can to avoid being alone with yourself for any length of time?
By acknowledging the upside and downside of living too intensely and adopting these energy-preserving practices, you can maintain a healthier balance, ensuring that your personal needle stays further from “Empty” and closer to “Fulfilment.”
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Rushing Roulette
Why we hurry and is it in your best interest to slow down?
Despite its name, hurry sickness is not an official diagnosis. You won’t find it in the DSM-V, the go-to compendium of mental disorders, nor will your insurance company cover you if you seek help for it. Yet, the pressing need to rush through tasks and make the most of every moment can impact many people – and not for the better. The following is a brief synopsis of the reasons we Americans rush through life, the cost of doing so, and what can be done to rein life back into the present moment.
The Illusion of Immortality: Rushing Against the Clock
When urgency-living masquerades as efficiency, you may not realize anything’s wrong. Below are some misconceptions about the benefits of playing Rushing Roulette.
1. Mortality Awareness
Tick-tock. The clock signals a reality many of us would prefer to ignore: our days are not unlimited. The awareness of mortality gnaws at our psyche. We rush, not merely to meet deadlines, but to outpace the inexorable march of time. We collect moments like we collect rare coins, hoping they’ll buy us eternity. Spoiler alert: they don’t. There’s a better way to squeeze the most out of life and scrambling isn’t one of them. Read on.
2. The Acquisition Myth
Possessions become talismans against oblivion. We amass wealth, status, and experiences—each acquisition a defiant shout: “I exist!” The bigger house, the faster car, the designer watch—they’re not just objects; they’re our battle cries against the void. We believe that accumulation somehow cheats death, as if the universe keeps score. This is unconscious, of course. Intellectually we all know better but somewhere internally, we keep buying things.
3. The Illusion of Control
Rushing is our desperate attempt to wrestle control from chaos or disappointment. We sprint through life, believing that speed equals authority over life. Being in constant motion is a widely used defense mechanism against loneliness, boredom, or emptiness.
4. The Fear of Irrelevance
We fear fading into obscurity. Most of us want to be remembered, missed by those we leave behind. Making our mark is one way we hedge against feeling invisible.
5. The Myth of Completion
We chase after tasks, goals, and achievements, as if – if we do enough of this – we will have “arrived.” Not so. The more we accomplish, the farther the goal post moves. This is life. Totally natural. There is no there there, only here, now. Goals are fine, constructive even. However, thinking we will get to the end point of our desires and then feel a sense of completion is more myth than truth.
6. Embracing the Present
Living in the present moment is essential because it anchors us in the now, allowing us to engage with life as it moves and unfolds. It helps reduce stress and anxiety by shifting the focus away from past regrets and future worries.
How to Cope
A) Mindfulness – Pause and take stock of the present moment. Take as deep a breath as you can and consider the urgency of your situation.
B) Prioritize – Everything may be important but not everything is urgent. Practice setting realistic goals and saying small Nos.
C) Unplug – Limit digital distractions. Pay attention to where your thoughts go. If they go into comparison to others, especially on social media, try to redirect and reframe your negative thinking. Remember your individuality.
D) Self-Compassion – Be as kind to yourself as you can. You don’t have to do it all.
Remember, slowing down doesn’t mean being less productive. It means being more intentional and taking care of your wellbeing.
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Before soulmate was a “thing,” I knew in my bones that I had just met mine.
I was driving home from the first day of graduate school and I don’t know how I knew, but I knew, that the person I had met at the wine and cheese gathering several hours earlier would be in my life for the duration of it. So far, that is proving itself to be true.
Opposites in many ways – she is softspoken, I am prone to squawking like a goose, she likes Springsteen, I’m obsessed with Streisand; of the two of us, she is often referred to as “the warm one,” while I’m slightly more (way more) in your face, she’s calm and even keeled no matter what, I’ve been known to smolder, much the way Mt. St. Helena did shortly before she blew – we are bound by our deep values, love of family (both of ours gone now) and a solid respect for one another.
Still, we have widely divergent histories, experiences, sensibilities, losses, dreams, and expectations. It is around these dissimilarities that our relationship has become at once interesting, rich, and challenging. It is our willingness to navigate these differences, rather than steer the other to either of our ways of thinking, that brings the deepest reward.
When my clients ask about my relationship status, I understand the curiosity behind this inquiry, and I answer openly and honestly. I realize it is a question aimed at whether I can relate to their struggles. The answer is most definitely.
To be candid, our journey together isn’t always peaches ‘n cream. In fact, it can be a bit more like peanut brittle. Like any long-term relationship, we’ve weathered our fair share of storms, maneuvered through rough patches, and learned valuable lessons along the way. Mostly about ourselves.
I share this not to boast about longevity or paint a picture-perfect portrait of my personal life, but to emphasize that I, like everyone, face challenges and vulnerability.
Some things that have worked for us, besides Dawn’s unfailing acceptance of me, my flaws and imperfections are a commitment to communication. We talk. Often. And we remind each other to listen. We are mindful of, though not responsible for, one another’s histories and vulnerabilities. We have learned where to tread lightly. We have a habit of thanking each other for the thankless tasks that we do. “Thank you for emptying the dishwasher,” says I. “Thank you for leaving the last few grapes; I know you wanted them,” says she. When a conflict arises, we try to say something, even if it’s only to say that we’re not quite sure what to say. We know that saying something is better than keeping the other guessing. On those rare occasions when one or both of us feels too saturated to talk further or has gotten a little too heated, we take a break. We let one another know that we’ll be back to resume the conversation, and we keep that promise.
We try not to disappoint one another. We are disappointed, nonetheless.
When this happens, we are not shocked. We simply work it through. Humans do human things. We are committed to being self-aware humans, at least as much as we can. More than anything, we understand that love is a verb. Not just a feeling. And we choose it over everything else.
So again, I share this with you not to project a glossy façade, but to emphasize that I am familiar with the joys and challenges of intimate connection. Relationships take work, and my wish for all couples is that they know the value of nurturing theirs. The skills that are necessary for a strong and authentic relationship can be learned. They can be deepened. And they can become the bridge to a beautiful and lasting partnership.
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Can our sense of spirituality be nurtured in psychotherapy sessions? Do spiritual beliefs have a place in developing insight and emotional authenticity? What about feeling our strongest emotions; anger, for instance? Does a spiritual practice, if we have one, require us to “turn the other cheek?”
My work as a psychotherapist gives me a privileged glimpse into peoples’ inner world. I have become the keeper of profound secrets that are revealed to no one else, of thoughts, feelings, past actions and current urges, both spoken and unspoken. I am a witness to unbreakable strength and glass-like fragility, at times within the same person.
Knowledge, education and training can provide much preparation for conducting psychotherapy, but my patients have taught me that the true work of healing comes not just from the mind but from the heart and soul.
Alongside other good and capable therapists, I’ve learned the art and science of behavioral change. I can speak easily of psychological armor, defense mechanisms, relationship dynamics, addiction, depression, anxiety, self-sabotage and so on. Yet, there is something in the mix when a person comes into my care that is a departure from the conventions of traditional psychotherapy. I want much more for my patients than symptom relief or remission from their pain. What I seek in our work together are these things, of course, but much, much more.
My own personal life and my work with probably a thousand patients in my private practice in Montclair, New Jersey and NYC has taught me something I could have never learned in graduate and post-graduate school: that healing is not something that I do to or for anyone, nor is it something that happens to the patient alone. Rather, it is an alchemy, a reciprocal transformation that takes each of our pain blocks and transmutes them into not just “non-pain” but something immeasurably more beautiful and sustaining: a deep and abiding knowing that there exists an Infinite Intelligence that not only lives within us but expresses Itself through us, AS us.
As a therapist and healer, I believe that I can take my patients only as far down the road of transformation as I have traveled myself.
For this reason, I feel strongly that I must continue to grow as a person and seek to always go beyond my limitations. The more I help myself, the more I am able to help my patients.
As I have navigated my flaws, foibles, missteps and messes along the way, I consulted with several excellent and good-hearted therapists who cared about me and my well-being. I learned from each of them and will forever be in their debt. It wasn’t until one of life’s twists (make that a dark night of the soul) brought me – quite surprisingly – to a spiritual center in North Jersey, however, that I had my awakening. It was my work and subsequently my deep friendship with Rev. Michelle Wadleigh, the Minister who runs the Center, that led me toward a path of greater wholeness (and holiness) than I could have imagined. Not a religious path, you see, but a sacred one. Not paved with rules, but with love. And not exclusive but welcoming to all.
Since then, my work with the individuals and couples who have honored me with their trust has never been the same. I now view fulfillment, meaning and purpose as accompaniments to good clinical outcomes. In fact, I believe that with the former comes the latter. I know this more and more because my patients tell me so.
Over the years, Rev. Michelle and I have had many deep conversations about the role of spirituality and psychotherapy. I love our talks. They stretch me, make me think, and can be very spirited!
If you would like to eavesdrop on our conversations, tune in Sunday nights at 9:pm, EST, beginning January 7th. Or, better yet, ask questions and comment! We’d love to know you’re listening so that we can create, with you, a podcast experience that may very well make your Sunday nights a little more peaceful and your Monday mornings a little brighter.
Join us, live. Sundays, 9:pm, EST, right here at: https://ntmedia.org
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If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of this statement, you know how uncomfortable it can be.
Even when the intention is genuine, this ominous preamble can create anxiety, defensiveness and emotional shutdown, the kind that makes the atmosphere between two people more contentious than collaborative. There are more constructive, neutral conversation openers that can go a long way toward meaningful conflict resolution.
Conversations deemed difficult are like a complex dance where every step holds the potential for misunderstanding, frustration, or growth. As a psychotherapist, I’ve often witnessed that the ways in which people attempt to talk about delicate matters often makes the original problem worse. The escalation or the resolution rests in HOW things get discussed. In this exploration, let’s dive into the nuances of navigating these tricky dialogues, understanding that they are not roadblocks but gateways to deeper connections.
Embrace the Discomfort
One of the paradoxes of human interaction is that the most uncomfortable conversations can lead to the most profound growth. It’s in these moments of discomfort that true understanding can emerge. Instead of avoiding these talks, embrace the discomfort as a signal that something important is at stake. Let the other person know you want to collaborate in finding a solution that feels right to both of you. Try saying, “I’d like for us to try to iron out our disagreement in a way that feels fair to both of us.”
The Power of Active Listening
In the realm of difficult conversations, active listening becomes a beacon of light. As a therapist, I’ve seen the profound impact of truly hearing someone, not just the words they say but the emotions they convey. Practice the art of listening without immediately formulating a response. It’s in the pauses that understanding often finds its voice.
Choose Your Words Thoughtfully
Words have immense power. In the crucible of a challenging conversation, your choice of words can either escalate tensions or create bridges. Think about the impact your words might have on the other person. Consider using “I” statements to express your feelings and concerns, fostering an environment of shared responsibility. Sarcasm, defensiveness, cross attacking, and the silent treatment are all conversation busters.
Cultivate Empathy
Empathy is the secret sauce in any conversation, especially the difficult ones. Strive to understand the other person’s perspective, acknowledging their emotions and experiences. This doesn’t mean you have to agree, but understanding lays the groundwork for meaningful dialogue.
Navigate, Don’t Dictate
Avoid the temptation to control the conversation. Instead, think of it as a shared exploration. It’s not about proving a point but finding common ground. The goal is mutual understanding, not necessarily agreement. The key here is to be more curious than right.
Recognize Patterns of Communication
As a therapist, I often work with individuals to identify patterns in their communication. Be mindful of recurring themes or behaviors in your difficult conversations. Are you prone to putting up a wall? Does overall avoidance take the lead? Recognizing these patterns is the first step toward changing them.
It’s Okay to Press Pause
Difficult conversations can be emotionally charged. If you feel the conversation spiraling, it’s okay to press pause. Sometimes, a temporary break can prevent further escalation, allowing both parties to regroup emotionally before continuing. “Why don’t we come back to this when we’ve both taken some time to reflect?”
In the intricate dance of difficult conversations, remember that it’s not about avoiding conflict but navigating it with intention and skill. As a psychotherapist, I encourage you to see these conversations not as obstacles but as opportunities for personal and relational growth. Embrace the discomfort, lean into empathy, and let the dance unfold—one step at a time.
