NO REGRETS

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There was a heart-warming story on the news last week about an 89-year old World War II veteran who was learning to read for the first time.  Ed Bray lives alone in a single-wide in Cookson, Oklahoma.  He was at Normandy and earned not one, but two purple hearts plus more than a dozen other medals.  But he says the most difficult challenge in his life has been illiteracy.  He talked about how he covered up and compensated over the years.  Until last week, only a few knew the secret shame he carried.

Ed’s goal was to read one book before he died.  He had tried many times to learn over the years, and finally became resigned.  But the soldier who survived Normandy would never completely give up.  Recently, at a friend’s suggestion, he began working with a reading specialist at Northeastern State University and this time it clicked.  Last week he read his very first book.

To me the inspiring part of Ed’s story is his sense of an incomplete task and the need to complete it.  It was something he just had to do.  One of my most probing questions to ask my psychotherapy clients is, “What would you regret never having done?”   Is there something you always wanted to do, meant to do, but now you fear you are too old to do or that you simply can’t do?  Don’t tell that to Ed.

One of my favorite theories in psychology is Erikson’s Stages of Development.  Erikson postulated that we go through eight stages from birth to death, and each stage has a task and an outcome associated with it.  In middle adulthood (ages 40-65) life is all about work and productivity.  We are challenged with living a life of generativity versus stagnation.  In order to complete this task, we need to create or nurture things that will outlast us.  This might include parenting children, having meaningful work, or volunteering at something that makes the world a better place.  We want to make a contribution.  By the time we get to Ed’s stage (65 and above), we need to be able to look back on life with a sense of fulfillment.  We need to know we completed our mission on earth.  If we fail at this task, we may have a sense of regret or despair.

That was a very wordy paragraph that basically means we don’t want to get to the end of life with regrets.  Ed’s story challenges me to keep on growing, to keep becoming.  Ed had a lifetime of evidence that said he just couldn’t be taught to read.  Ed could have surrendered to the belief, “I can’t do it.”  But Ed believed and lived the words of another World War II hero, Winston Churchill.  “Never give in.  Never give in. Never, never, never, never…never give in.”

 

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WHO DID YOU USED TO BE?

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I was vacationing in Palm Springs last week…actually in Palm Desert which is one of several little towns that lies just south of Palm Springs.  It is a trip I make every year with my husband and my sister and her husband.  This area is made up of mostly retirees.  Retirees: a euphemism for old.  Elderly.  Very old.  Everywhere you look there are octogenarians and older, except in old Palm Springs which is paradoxically young, hip, and happening.  There are also many younger, active seniors in the area, but my attention was especially drawn to the elderly in a way it hasn’t been on previous visits.  I am looking into my not-too-distant future trying to imagine that part of my life.

I am observing and studying these precious ones.  There is the woman in the bright yellow jacket who shuffles past us in a lunchtime-crowded restaurant just as we are getting ready to leave.  She has a blank look on her face and I think she is confused.  I see an elderly gentleman stop the waiter and say, “I can’t find my wife.  I think she may be lost.”  He is not panicked.  This is obviously something that happens fairly often.  I wonder who they used to be.  Who were they in their prime?  By the way they are dressed I can imagine they must be financially comfortable.  Did the man have a powerful career?  Did she?  What was their life like in their thirties and forties?  What has been their love story?

We take a break from golf and decide to go to an afternoon movie.  The theater is crowded and even though we are also seniors, we are bringing the age demographic down by a decade.  I realize again I am getting a glimpse of my future.  A foursome enters the row just in front of us as we are waiting for a movie to begin.  One man is barely moving and is requiring a great deal of aid to be seated.  I watch him swat his wife’s hand away repeatedly as she offers assistance, but gladly accept help from the other woman.  I wonder what he was like as a younger husband.  Is this the kind of marriage they have always had, or is this behavior recent, perhaps a by-product of an age-related illness?

There are more.  The British couple getting ready to play golf, chatting in their charming accents about the beautiful weather.  The elderly couple sitting next to us having breakfast.  Their table is so close to ours I can observe the papery translucence of his skin.  After their oatmeal is served, he reaches across the table for her hand and he prays for several minutes.  It is a beautiful thing to see.  They talk animatedly throughout breakfast.  As we are leaving, I visit with the wife.  I learn they have only been married for ten years.  She tells me that she was formerly a building contractor.  She built many homes in the area.  “But that was a long time ago,” she says.  I wonder how they met, what he did for a living.  I want to know their story.

We all have a life story with a finite number of chapters and pages.  Some of us have longer stories than others.  What will my next chapter be?  How many pages are left?  How do I live well the time I have left?  These are all questions I am pondering.  I am thinking about old age in a new way.  I no longer turn away from it; I feel a combination of curiosity and confidence that I did not have before.  I think I can do this!

 

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DO I NEED CHANGE OR GROWTH?

Do I need change or growth?

Do I need change or growth?

In my last post, I encouraged us to consider change.  But we often get change and growth confused.  One of my favorite quotes is, “Change is inevitable; growth is optional.”  Life is changing every day whether we like it or not.  Change can occur suddenly, like a death or job loss.  Often change happens outside our control.  But change does not automatically produce growth.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CHANGE AND GROWTH

Change can happen suddenly.  Growth happens incrementally.  I didn’t become a psychologist overnight.  Even though I have the degree and the license, I think I am still becoming a psychologist.  When I stop growing in my profession, it’s time to quit.  When we are growing we are moving steadily in one direction, toward a goal.  This could mean gradually getting fit, working toward a promotion, or becoming a better spouse.

While change can come from the outside, growth comes from within.  We make a decision to grow, to become.  Hopefully we have the support of others, but it is up to us to do the hard work required for growth.  We have to become self-motivated.

CHANGE OR GROWTH?

We may need to evaluate whether we need change or growth.  There may be times when we need to take a big, radical step in a different direction.  But at other times we may need to stay on the current track.  We might just need to keep moving forward.  When things get tough it might be a mistake to think we need to make a change.  We might need perseverance instead.

How can you tell whether you need growth or change?  One way is to consider if you can improve things by really trying.  It is too easy to turn and run when things get tough.  Sometimes we lie to ourselves by saying, “Well, I tried,” when we really haven’t put much effort into changing the situation.  But if you have tried and feel that the situation will never get better, it might be time to consider making a change.  But be aware, sometimes we reach our best potential by staying in a difficult spot.  Peter Marshall reminded us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are created under pressure.

 

 

 

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THE BLTN CLUB

Never too late to change

Change Your Life

I saw a piece on the news a few mornings ago about people who were making life changes at mid-life or later.  It could be something as simple as taking up a new hobby or learning something new.  For others, it was a major shift, such as changing careers, changing locations, or even marital status.

This topic is near and dear to my heart, because I became a member of the BLTN Club at age 48.  That is when I decided “Better late than never,” and made the decision to go to college.  Ten years later I realized my dream and graduated with a Ph.D. in Clinical Psychology.  After that it was time for the next phase: beginning a practice as a clinician.  The excuse “It’s too late,” doesn’t go very far with me, although I understand the feeling. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that we live finite lives and the clock eventually does run out.  For example, it is definitely too late for me to have another baby Thank you, Lord!) or become an Olympic athlete.  But it is not too late to become a surrogate parent or grandparent to someone who needs an older friend.  And I can certainly benefit from a workout regimen and push myself within reason at the gym.  If I am open to possibilities, there may be more than one way of making my dreams come true.

Change is risky.  We don’t know if we are up for it, if we can do it.  We may not be sure of the ending.  What if we fail?  What if we get to the finish line and we don’t like it?  The alternative is a 100% chance of staying where we are.  As my friend Charles likes to say, “If you’re not moving forward, you’re backing up.”  Change is taking the risk to experiment with your own life.

Often we are pushed into change by a crisis.  Sometimes in the busyness of our everyday lives, things may seem fine on the surface.  But when a crisis occurs, life comes to a halt, giving our circumstances an opportunity to speak to us.  Maybe something is not quite right.  A crisis can be a gift because it gives us an opportunity to change.  We may not have as much to lose as we otherwise would.

But we don’t need anything as drastic as a crisis to motivate us to try something new.  Boredom, a sense of standing still, and a yearning for more can be a signal that there is more for us out there.  I have a suspicion that we are presented with opportunities all the time, but we ignore them or tell ourselves, “I can’t do that.”

My list of what I want to accomplish is most certainly not the same as yours.  Sometimes we just simply might not want to do something new and that is okay.  There is a lot to be said for contentment.  We all get to pick and choose how we want to do life.  We just don’t want to get to the end with regrets over what we never tried because we were too afraid.

As I write these words I am preparing for a new adventure in a few weeks.  I am going on a mission trip with my church to Kenya.  It is more out of my comfort zone than I can describe.  At first I was afraid to commit, and kept asking myself, “What are you thinking?”  But as the weeks have gone by, I find myself excited and open to opportunities and growth.  I am 67 years old and this is my first mission trip.  But better late than never!

 

 

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THE POWER OF AN APOLOGY

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The Power of an Apology

 

Two of the most powerful words in the English language are “I’m sorry.”  Those words have the power to diffuse tension and melt away resentment.  When we say, “I’m sorry,” we are taking ownership of our behavior.  We are acknowledging an offense or injury.

Before we can admit a wrong to someone else, we first have to admit it to ourselves.  I think that is one of the reasons it can be difficult to apologize.  We don’t like to come face-to-face with our own shortcomings.  Who likes to admit that they are wrong?

When an apology is done right, it can be so powerful.  Above all, an apology should be heartfelt, not just mere words.  A good apology does not include a “but.”  Benjamin Franklin admonished, “Never ruin a good apology with an excuse.”   Even though the other person may have a role in the incident, a good apology only addresses my part.  When we add the words, “Will you forgive me,” we have placed the ball squarely in the other person’s court.  Now the onus is on them.  They may chose to hang on to resentment, but we have done our part.  Even though we may feel vulnerable, we have to let go of the outcome.

Why are apologies so important?  Because we need healthy relationships.  Failure to take ownership of hurting someone is like pushing the pause button on the relationship.  An apology can provide the energy to move the relationship forward.  Saying you’re sorry shows the other person that you care and are willing to admit your own shortcomings.  It says, “I don’t want to hurt you.  You can be safe with me.”  Even if the relationship is ending, we don’t want to leave unfinished business.  Owning our part can give us the ability to move forward.

 

 

 

 

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THE TOP FIVE THINGS I’VE LEARNED FROM WORKING WITH COUPLES

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  1. There are at least three sides to every story.  There is her side, his side, and then there is what really happened.  I’ve learned that perspective is so important, and often our own perspective blinds us to the truth about a situation.  In my own life, I am trying to slow down and see things from different angles.  I’m learning to challenge my assumptions.
  2. What happens to you as a couple is not nearly as important as what you do with what happens to you.  We are all subject to the vicissitudes of life.  Sometimes (actually, often) life does not turn out as we planned.  Give yourselves a little time to grieve, and then ask, “What are we going to do with this?  What is this trying to teach us?  What are the hidden gifts in this situation?”
  3. Conflict in and of itself is not bad.  It’s how we resolve conflict that matters.  Some of my couples are conflict avoidant; they never address the elephant in the room.  Others are so conflictual they fight about over everything.  They make every issue a hill worth dying on.  We all need conflict resolution skills and those can be learned.
  4. Divorce is not the answer.  It doesn’t end the relationship; it merely redefines it.  Often couples continue to battle over the same issues long after the ink has dried on the divorce papers.  Or the ex-spouse continues to hold so much emotional power over them it’s like living with a ghost.  Many times I see a divorced person go on to recreate the same patterns in a second marriage.  However, as a pro-marriage therapist I have also learned that not every marriage can or will be saved.  I believe if you are willing to do the work, you can emerge from a divorce a healthier and better version of yourself.  As a side note, I would say to every young person, be very careful with whom you choose to make a baby.  That person is going to be in your life for a very long time.
  5. One person can save a marriage.  Many times there is one member who really wants to put in the work while the other is just “doing time.”  That way they can say, “I tried.”   I have learned to identify the agent for change in the relationship.  If I can get that person to change the dance, the other spouse has to learn the new steps.
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THE FAMILY DRAMA or “WHY DIDN’T THE HOLIDAYS TURN OUT LIKE I PLANNED?”

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It happens every January.  My office is full of clients who need to process what went wrong during the holidays.  They left before Christmas, full of anticipation (and some apprehension) about going home and being with parents, siblings and extended family members.  It is going to be just like a Norman Rockwall painting.  And then something blows up; they step on a land mine, they get blind-sided.  They are left wondering what went wrong.  There can be many explanations for family occasions going awry, but I believe one of the most common reasons is the gravitational pull to return to the roles we were assigned in our family of origin.

It was William Shakespeare who said “All the world’s a stage and the men and women merely players.”  Nowhere is that statement more accurate than in our families.  All families have roles and scripts.  This is especially true in dysfunctional families.  And even though as adults we have gotten healthier, the pull when we return home is to stick to the original family script.

What are some of these roles?  One is is the family hero.  This is the one who is the achiever, who gets all the positive attention.  The hero’s accomplishments help the family feel, ”We are not so bad.”  The hero may enjoy the attention, but on the inside he may be plagued with perfectionism and a fear of failure.  He may become a workaholic and controlling unless he gets the help he needs to be able put some balance in his life.  The healthy hero must learn to live with imperfection and be able to say “no.”

The family scapegoat serves a useful purpose in the dysfunctional family by becoming the designated symptom bearer.  When we can download all our bad stuff onto someone else, we don’t have to acknowledge that the entire family system is sick.  This person is typically the black sheep of the family.  They may come across as angry, impulsive or bad, but inside they may feel shame and alienation.  Without help they may struggle with addictions or legal trouble.  Or they may continue to re-enact this role in relationships or on the job.  They must learn to do things that foster a sense of self-worth and they must learn to love themselves.  Above all, they must quit accepting the blame for someone else’s bad behavior.

Dysfunctional families tend to have at least one child who is the lost child.  This child never makes waves; she becomes “invisible.”  She may seem withdrawn and may prefer solitary activities.  She may be unable to express feelings or opinions.  The family thinks, “Here is one member we don’t have to worry about.”  However, those traits that help her survive as a child may not serve her very well as an adult.  She must learn to have a voice.

The family clown or mascot brings comic relief to the family.  He helps the family avoid painful issues, but he may be carrying his own pain inside.  He may feel afraid and inadequate.  Left untreated, the family clown can remain immature.  He may not develop a full repertoire of emotions and always hide behind humor.  But with help, he can learn to express himself appropriately and use his innate sense of humor in productive ways.

Hopefully as we grow up we begin to take on more adaptive roles for ourselves.  But it is tough to change family systems.  When we go home for a visit, we may find ourselves being pulled back into our old role against our will.  Sometimes we can feel it happening, but feel unable to stop the process.  Change will require setting firm boundaries and a refusal to play our part any more.  Our family may feel resentful at first, and tug even harder.  But hopefully, by setting firm but loving boundaries, the whole family can eventually learn a new and healthier script.

 

 

 

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THE GIRLS OF THE FIFTIES

 

 

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I heard a song Saturday night I don’t believe I’ve ever heard before.  The title was “80s Ladies” and it really resonated with me, although I think I may have mentally taken it in a different direction.  The different verses of the song spoke to the different decades of our lives and what we were like as women and girls.

For some time now I have had a vague thought about Baby Boomer women and that thought began to take shape as I reflected on “80s Ladies.”  As Boomers, we had cataclysmic sociological events that changed us and divided us.  Maybe it is egocentric to hold the belief that we were a unique generation.  After all our mothers had World War II and our grandmothers had World War I.  But this is our story and my homage to the girls of the fifties and the women we became.

We were the girls of the fifties.  Our mothers permed our hair and starched our crinolines and sent us off to school.  We began each day with a prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance.  We learned to diagram sentences and memorize the capitals of countries that seemed a million miles away.  We walked home from school and turned on The Mickey Mouse Club and later American Bandstand.  We spent our allowance on 45s by Elvis or Fabian.  We bought Pink Vanilla lipstick and began to think about boys.  We thought we would grow up to be June Cleaver or Margaret Anderson.

In the sixties and seventies we went to high school, and then to college or the typing pool.  President Kennedy was assassinated and then his brother.  Martin Luther King was murdered for having a dream.  Our guys went off to war and didn’t come back or they came back different.  The Woman’s Revolution began to change us, divide us, and re-define us.  We were raised to be a certain kind of woman, and then the rules changed.  We got the pill and the mini skirt.  Some of us said, “I do,” and started having babies.  Others of us wanted a different life.  We burned our bras and burned our bridges; or we kept the home fires burning.  We raised our consciousness and raised our families.  We either became Carol Brady or Mary Richards.  We were torn between the car pool line and the boardroom.  We questioned our choices.

In the eighties we got big hair and big shoulders.  We watched a girl marry a prince and still held on to happily ever after.  We were busy with our kids or busy with our careers.  Many of us were busy with both.  Oprah challenged us to be the best version of ourselves and we told our daughters they could grow up to be anything they wanted to be.  We sang “Amazing Grace” and we sang “I Will Survive.”  We tried to do it all and have it all.

In the nineties our nests began to empty.  Our babies left for college, careers, and marriage.  And there were still wars.  We became grandmothers.  We went back to work or back to school.  We had new choices to make.  We vowed we would not do the second half of life the way our mothers did.  We got re-acquainted with our husbands.  Some of us said, “I don’t,” and then said, “I do” again.  And again.  A few of us said “I never will again.”  When life gave us lemons, we made lemon pie or limoncello.

And now the girls of the fifties are moving into our golden years.  And we are still re-writing the playbook.  We may be engaged in second careers or traveling to some of those exotic cities we learned about as children.  Or we are doing both.  We volunteer, we take up new hobbies, or we may be raising our grandchildren.  We are trying to negotiate retirement and decide how to live well the time we have left.  Some of us have lost a husband or a child.  Over the years we may have lost our health, lost a breast, lost our way, or lost our hope.  We may have felt that we were losing our minds.  But there have been gains along the way.  Hopefully we have gained wisdom, gained perspective and gained a tolerance for our sisters who have made different choices.  We have learned to let go of the things that don’t matter and embrace the things that do.  We are the girls of the fifties.

 

 

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HOW TIMES HAVE CHANGED

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Tonight is the BCS National Championship and as such, I thought it was only fitting to write about football.  Anyone who knows me knows how much I love college football.  Now I can talk football with the boys, but tonight I would like to take a girly approach.  Let us to consider how fan attire has changed over the years.

I grew up in Dallas where football and the Cotton Bowl were a part of life.  The first college football game I remember attending was the Cotton Bowl game in 1956 when Ole Miss played TCU.  I was a little girl and I went with my dad.  The only reason I got to go was because at the last minute my mother couldn’t (wouldn’t?) go.  I wore a felt circle skirt and sweater set.  That was a very long time ago, but in my memory the ladies were wearing suits, heels, and stockings.  And I think they wore hats.  The men were wearing sport coats and they also wore hats.  Not ball caps…hats.  Like Tom Landry, Clark Kent type hats.  It was a stadium full of Ward and June Cleavers.

In junior high and high school, when I wasn’t wearing a cheerleading outfit, I wore Bobbie Brooks wool skirts with dyed-to-match sweaters to the games.  We all did.  No pants; skirts.  With penny loafers and bobby socks.  And in cold weather you could break out the mouton jacket!

If you got lucky enough to go to a college game, you wore a Butte Knit suit with hose and heels.  And if we were wearing hose, that means we were wearing girdles.  And girdles had those horrible supporters that attached to your hose.  Why did we need to wear girdles and stockings to a football game?  Maybe this was just a Texas thing, but I doubt it.

Somewhere along the line it became acceptable for women to wear slacks to the games.  It must have coincided with the women’s movement.  Some woman got smart enough to figure out that sitting in the cold for four hours with those supporters digging into your thighs was as painful as what was happening on the field.   I imagine things were changing for the guys in the stands too, but how could you notice with a girdle cutting off all circulation to rest of your body.

I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point we all wised up and decided jeans and some team-related tee shirt or jersey made sense.  The Texas girls still haven’t completely caught on.  At OU-Texas you can still see them decked out in their suede and leather in 100-degree temps.  They look great, but at this time of my life I’m sticking with jeans and sneakers.

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PUTTING AWAY CHRISTMAS

 

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The older I get, the more difficult it becomes to decorate the house for Christmas.  It requires boxes of decorations being brought down from the attic, rearranging my furniture; ladders, and boxes and boxes of decorations; and at least two days of physical work that leave Jerry and I with backaches and stiff muscles.   We like to put everything up early so we have a long time to enjoy our tree and everything that goes with it.

Of course, what goes up must come down.  That requires two more days of hard work and many trips up and down the stairs. After all the garlands and lights and ornaments are put away, I feel a mixture of emotions. I’m glad to get my house back in order, but I miss the lights of the Christmas tree in the mornings when I get up and make my coffee.  And I miss the anticipation of Christmas.

I love everything about Christmas: the lights, the music, the smells, the foods, and the relationships.  We had one of the best Christmases of our lives this year.  I’m not exactly sure just what made this one more special than the others.  I think we made more time for relationships this year. And maybe that is what made it so special.  Maybe it is the knowledge that time is running out that makes me treasure each Christmas.  I used to tease my grandmother for saying, “I wonder how many more Christmases we will have to all be together.”  Now I get it

I guess relationships are the most important part of Christmas.  After all, relationship is the reason we have Christmas in the first place.  God desired a relationship with man, so he came to earth to dwell among us and provide a way for us to be in relationship with Him.

As I pack away Christmas, I want to keep part of it all year long.  My greatest gifts are my relationships.  My relationship with Jesus is primary.  But my family is my treasure.  I’m so blessed to have my husband and our children and grandchildren.  We are so blessed to be a part of a large and loving family.  We are a part of a vibrant and loving church family.  We are blessed with friends and co-workers we enjoy. 

Thank you, Lord for Christmas.  Help me to celebrate all year long!

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