Thoughts on Healing

Harper turns three years old today. Nathan adopted her from a pet rescue organization when she was just over a year old and she has lived with me (along with her dog brother Toby and Nathan) for almost two years–most of her life. Shortly after Nathan moved in with me, Harper decided that I was going to be her person. Like most young dogs she is full of mischief, light, and love. She is simultaneously too intense (her favorite activities are gregariously greeting visitors, playing with Toby, and giving the cats and her humans far too many “kisses”), and unbelievably eager to please. She rarely needs to be called more than once, is relatively easy to train–in fact she often asks to be trained…and her favorite place to be located is usually smashed up next to me with her head resting, ever so slightly possessively, on my lap.

Harper watching deer play in the yard.

Harper is a VERY good young dog and she will probably be an even better mature/old dog. I am incredibly grateful to have her in my life because she has a habit of teaching me small lessons about love, play, fun, and loyalty. Harper also teaches me about healing.

Harper Gets Her Nails Trimmed

Like most of us, Harper has a particular activity that she STRONGLY dislikes. Harper HATES having her toenails cut or filed. We suspect that something might have traumatized her before she came to us because no matter how many treats we give her, what rewards we use (we have consulted with three dog trainers), no matter who trims her nails (vet, groomer, me…) or the methods that we use (file, treats for “scratching” on sand paper mounted on a board, clippers, etc.) she HATES having her nails trimmed.

This past January, at the suggestion of our vet, we gave her 150 mg. of Trazadone. The plan was for Nathan to gently hold her while I give treats and file. The drama started as soon as the Trazadone started to kick in. Harper knows that when she is “drugged” she is about to get her nails trimmed and she starts the most pathetic and dramatic groaning imaginable. Finally, when it appeared that she was sufficiently dopey (she is always a little dopey–even when she hasn’t been drugged). Nathan gently, but firmly held her. I spoke soothingly to her–noting the panic in her eyes–and gently lifted her paw. She screamed, jerked wildly, pooped all over Nathan, and continued screaming like the sound track of some awful “B” horror movie. All three of us were left disgustingly filthy, traumatized, and a little annoyed. I took a three minute break, and then gave Harper (and myself) a LONG bath.

Nathan and I decided then that we wouldn’t be cutting Harper’s nails again ourselves. It just wasn’t worth it. Luckily, Harper’s nails grow very slowly. I suspect that this is achieved somehow through the force of her will alone. If there ever was a dog that could will her nails not to grow because she hated to have them trimmed, it would be Harper.

Last week, after postponing a visit to the vet for far too long, I decided that seven months without having her nails trimmed bordered on cruel. It was time to trim Harper’s nails. If Nathan was telling this story, he would interject here and inform you that I decided to cut Harper’s nails mostly because I was tired of her stepping on me with her beastly claws. Both perspectives might have some veracity.

I decided against the tranquilizer and simply led/coaxed Harper into the garage. She knew exactly what was about to happen and immediately started to panic. Fifteen minutes later I was a bloody mess (note to self: DO NOT to wear shorts next time), Harper was panting, we were both emotionally exhausted, but Harper’s nails were cut. We took a ten minute break from each other so I could jump in the shower to wash the scratches on my legs from Harper’s nails. In true Harper fashion, as soon as I got out she tried to lick my “wounds” clearly concerned about the state of the skin on my legs.

My scratches and bruising from trimming Harper’s nails

On Emotional Healing

My scratches and bruises have started to itch a bit in the last couple of days. Despite all my years of training and experience as a therapist and coach nothing seems to illustrate the process of emotional healing better than physical injury for me. While I am very competent (even excellent) at holding the pain and discomfort of others’ emotional wounds, I remain somewhat challenged when it comes to navigating my own. I keep telling Nathan that he has seen my cry more than anyone else in my life–and that I have cried more in the last two years than I did throughout the entire rest of my life.

On Monday I will have been divorced for a year–it has been two years since he dumped me. Healing from that seventeen-year-long relationship has not been easy. In addition to my anger and sadness about the end of a relationship that I did not want to end, I’ve been fired twice, felt overwhelming feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness, and been terrified about essentially starting over financially and occupationally (in the very last year of my forties–and in the midst of a global pandemic). I am unemployed (again) and really struggling with trying to remember that I am more than my paycheck, titles, relationships, bank account balance, and credit score.

Nathan, my family, and a couple of friends have been absolutely amazing. They keep telling me to “slow down,” “focus on yourself” and that, “the grief comes in waves.” I hear them, and their well-meaning encouragement makes sense, but I feel like Harper getting her nails cut in the garage.

I hate not having control! I know that I will get through this–but it is terrifying. I know that sometimes my internal turmoil ends up flailing about and inadvertently scratching up the folks I love and–just like Harper penitently trying to lick the scrapes and scratches–this too is hard for me.

I am healing. I can feel it. But it is a scratchy and itchy process. I am learning to trust (in others and myself), perhaps for the first time. I am trying to be o.k. with life not turning out as I had planned it. I am trying to discover a more authentic version of myself that isn’t reliant on a projected version of what I think others want me to be. Most of all, I am trying to be o.k. with not knowing what the future will bring. I am trying to live today: not in the past and definitely not in the future. This is new and arduous work for me. I am a planner. But my life has taught me that even perfect planning simply does not and will not produce perfect results. Too much of my life is outside of my control. So I am working on living today–I just don’t think I am very good at it yet.

Embracing My “Dark” Side

The last few years of my life have been challenging. The last year of my life has been my most difficult year to navigate yet. Here is how it all started:

One year ago my husband informed me that he was leaving me. Initially I believed that things had been sort of rough so he just needed to take some space, maybe go on a trip or rent an extended stay suite. He quickly disabused me of that notion by informing me that he had signed a year-long lease on an apartment a few blocks away. At the time we had an open access cell phone policy. At the time I thought this was a good idea. I no longer do.

Through reading his text messages I discovered a text to his sister that informed me that he was leaving me for good. I also discovered his many texts to his new lover (almost twenty years younger than me).

I began all the negotiating, bargaining, and questioning that lovers who are being left often engage in. We had spent seventeen years together. Wasn’t that worth something to him? None of it mattered. He was done.

A few months later after almost complete silence from him, with prompting from my father and wise family, I filed for divorce. It was clear that he wasn’t going to do it. Throughout our years together he had maintained an uncanny knack for avoidance. He avoided his family of origin for seventeen years. During this time I purchased almost all holiday and birthday presents for his family. He felt a sense of responsibility to them, but he wanted nothing to do with them. Intuitively, I knew that this was the new status to which I had been relegated. I had been relationally disposed of. It took me months, and a great therapist, to come to terms with my new reality. I had been discarded and rejected by the person I loved most in the world.

To add insult to injury, I was three chapters into my dissertation (which he had been editing for me) and I was teaching at a local community college which meant that I would have no income for the summer months. He left me with our dog who was severely traumatized by his departure (he lost almost all of his fur, in spotty sore blotches all over his skin, over the next few months), in a very lonely home. For months afterwards I woke up crying every morning in our awful bed, in a condo that we had purchased together, I felt profoundly alone. This space, that I had initially adored, had become a horrific prison of memories for me.

I scraped together my resolve, got a summer job at a local winery (luckily he continued to pay some of our expenses–but there wasn’t much left over afterwards), and continued working on my dissertation. Despite my heart being broken I was able to finish my doctorate that fall.

However, my life was about to be even more complicated by even more drama.

In 2017 I had been asked by a friend to apply to teach at the local community college. At the time I had about 12 years experience teaching in higher education as well as a twenty year history as a mental health counselor.

Within the first two weeks of arriving at the college it became apparent that the practices of the counselors there were not aligned with the state and federal requirements for counselors. Additionally, only one of the counselors there was actually licensed. However, all the counselors were practicing as if they were independent counselors. However, there were some huge gaps in understanding of standard counselor practice. For example, a student was raped off campus during those first couple of weeks of my arrival at the college. A well-meaning, but terribly untrained and ill informed counselor within the department sent an e-mail (containing the student’s name and personal details) to over fifteen individuals within the college. This was a gross violation of the students’ privacy.

At that time I became deeply concerned about some of the “cultural practices” within the department and subsequently shared these concerns with my supervisor (who did little to nothing to act on them). After this there was a great deal of pushback from the counselors within the department who were upset that I had discussed the situation directly with my supervisor. Several of them began a “campaign” to discredit me. First, a complaint was made to the union about me alleging that my attempts to bring the department into alignment with state and federal law constituted an “act of a supervisor.” The union discarded the complaint stating that it was too technical to deal with and referred the complaint back to the administration.

It was now December of 2018. My husband had left, I was prepared to defend my dissertation in two weeks. I received a letter from the HR department at the college stating that a complaint had been made against me for an alleged Title IX violation, and that I was going to be investigated for allegations of gender harassment and bullying made against me by another counselor in my department. My office was quickly relocated outside of the counseling department. The next few months were painful and embarrassing.

Just prior to the end of the investigation the lead counselor in the department disseminated new standard intake forms for all of the counselors in the department to use. I noticed that these forms did not comply with the requirements established for counselors by the state Department of Health. I noted this discrepancy to the lead counselor and my supervisor. I was told that the documents were approved by the attorney general (AG) assigned to the college. When I continued to challenge that I didn’t believe that the AG had the authority to approve documents that weren’t compliant with the law I was told that I could use whatever paperwork I wanted.

Two weeks later the investigation was closed as being unfounded (e.g. I didn’t do any of the things that had been alleged that I had done). One week later I received a curt notice from my supervisor stating that my contract was being shortened from a full academic year. I would be unemployed in 30 days.

It was now the end of February 2019. I had been actively searching for a job since the beginning of January (but with little luck). I decided to hire a job coach and also pursue a potential labor law suit against the college.

Currently my labor lawyer states that while I have an excellent case, it may not be “cost-effective” to sue. However, the firm is still exploring the possibility that I could possibly be awarded “damages” due to my professional reputation being marred by an egregious allegation.

I hired the job coach. It is now the beginning of May. In the last four months I have applied for over 200 positions but have only received two interviews (for positions that I did not receive). I decided to take a break from the job coach (e.g. it doesn’t seem viable to keep doing the same thing that isn’t working).

I still see my therapist weekly. I am on some heavy duty antidepressants, my new WONDERFUL boyfriend sleeps over a few times a week and his dogs live with me now (my dog is doing MUCH better now that he has a new “pack”). I have been unemployed since the end of March 2019. For the first time in my life, I receive unemployment checks. In the next couple of months my divorce will be final. I will lose my condo. I will lose my health insurance. I am hoping that I will have a new job by then but hope seems very emotionally expensive at the moment.

I am struggling with sadness, loss, fear, and anger. I am struggling with feeling cursed. I am struggling with being “positive” and “happy.”

I hold a doctorate in education, I have had years of being a relatively effective mental health counselor in private practice. I am adept at understanding concepts like Dweck’s “growth mindset” (if you believe you can, then it is much more likely that you can). I am applying for positions as a Learning and Development Specialist/Manager/Coach. I have successfully navigated the periphery of this job title for years. The concepts are not new to me. For years I have also been utilizing Seligman’s (2011) “Positive Psychology” as a framework for working with students and clients. On LinkedIn these ideas and slogans are plastered on the pages of my coaching and development peers. Everywhere I see the slogans posted that when condensed read: “Negative Thoughts=Social Withdrawal=Failure”/”positivity leads to extroversion, engagement, a positive attitude, and productivity.”

Full disclosure, I have always been a bit of a pessimist. I, unapologetically, consider myself to be a member of the house of Slytherin (slogan: do what must be done). However, I am also a strong advocate of Positive Psychology. There is simply too much evidence that suggests that, for the most part, it works. My problem, at the moment, is that I am struggling with sadness, loss, fear, and anger. I am struggling with feeling cursed. I feel broken. The academic skeptic (pessimist) in me is (uncomfortably) challenging my chosen professional framework. I am now asking a lot of questions. What happens when we cannot feel happy? What happens when we feel trapped by circumstances over which we have little/no control? Is the Positive Psychology framework really just an old school capitalist propaganda tool used to shift responsibility from broken and toxic organizations to the individuals who struggle to navigate within them?

I’m currently reading Kashdan and Biwas-Diener’s (2014) “The Upside of Your Dark Side: Why being your whole self-not just your “good” self-drives success and fulfillment.” In it the authors ask the question, “Has Happiness Been Taken Too Far?” Their conclusion: Perhaps!

The authors cite research that suggests that positive emotions and thoughts are not always useful. Specifically because:

1. Your happiness can interfere with long-term success.
2. The pursuit of happiness sometimes backfires, ending in unhappiness.
3. Sometimes people want to feel bad.
4. Someone else’s happiness can impair your performance.

Their first assertion was interesting (essentially happiness can lead to naivete that can create longer-term blind spots). But the author’s third and fourth points are what are resonating deeply with me at the moment.

Sometimes People Want to Feel Bad

It turns out that most of us have an intuitive understanding of the function of negative emotions and that sometimes we select these “down” states in order to achieve a goal. The authors gave an example that given the choice of music before confronting a perpetrator, most individuals don’t want to listen to soothing music. 33 percent of individuals even chose “hard-core” acid rock to get “pumped up” for the confrontation. The authors state that emerging research clearly establishes that:

Anger trumps happiness when trying to confront a wrongdoer,

Anxiety trumps happiness when taking precautions against danger, and

Sadness trumps happiness when securing help to handle loss or personal difficulties

My take away is not so much that I “want” to feel bad at the moment, but that feeling bad might be my brain’s wonderful way of making sure that I will be o.k. given the difficult events that I have experienced during the past year (as uncomfortable as my feelings are at the moment, I’d like to make a quick shout out to my brain–thanks for the protection–however uncomfortable it might feel at the moment).

Someone Else’s Happiness Can Impair Your Performance Too

The authors suggest that happiness can lead to “big picture” thinking (e.g. project managers) and that unhappiness leads to detail oriented, analytical thinking (e.g. detectives). Researchers found that when a leader (who appeared to be sad) assigned an analytical task, followers completed the analytical task 400 percent better than their peers with a “happy” leader. This idea was replicated in another study where participants were asked to complete a boring, but crucial task (e.g. sit in a chair and determine whether or not two “planes” were about to collide). In one group the leader was a cheerleader (emphasizing how well each person was performing). In the other group, the leader was more “real” and acknowledged that the task was boring but that they would all “get through” the painful ordeal together. In this study the participants with the commiserating leader not only performed better but also rated the task as more enjoyable. The authors’ conclusion: “do not create a culture based on the assumption that positivity must reign supreme. Instead create a culture where everyone knows that it’s safe to be real, and depending on the situation, it is sometimes better to feel something other than happiness.”

Professionally, I believe that the events of the past year have made me a much wiser mentor and leader. Hopefully, when I return to the workforce (and I am REALLY hoping that this is sooner versus later), I will have a deeper, more informed perspective about happiness and how it relates to the REAL lives of the individuals with whom I engage, teach, and develop.

My personal take away is a deep challenge to try to start accepting my “darker” thoughts and moods these days. The research suggests that this state of mind may actually be protective for me on a long term basis. So hang in there with me family, boyfriend, therapist, and lawyers. This current crisis is bound to end eventually–and the research suggests that I’ll be better off (happier?) because of it!

Love and Friendship/Abrahamic and other gods…

Asma Hasan begins her book Red, White, and Muslim with a quick note to the reader and the following quote from the Qur’ an:

It may be that God will grant love and friendship between you and those who you now hold as enemies.  For God has power over all things; and God is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful.

I love that Oft-Forgiving and Most Merciful are capitalized.   It is as if  these human qualities are alternative names for God themselves. I wonder how Western culture might be different if “we” worshipped Oft-Forgiving instead of Jesus and the Christian god (I have a hard time understanding the necessity of a crucifixion if REAL forgiveness is involved)?

I love the idea of the personification and embodiment of benevolent emotions in a god.  Pantheistic and Pagan religions and traditions do this almost by definition.  One of my favorite Buddhist deities is Avalokiteśvara.  This god (Boddhisatva–more like a deified saint)  hears the cries of sentient beings, and works tirelessly to help those who call upon his name.   Avalokiteśvara has 33 different manifestations (including both genders) and each of these manifestations exist to suit the mind of the various individuals with which the god interacts.   Avalokiteśvara is most often portrayed with multiple arms (with as many as a thousand) each willing and ready to dispense comfort and aid to those in need.

While I am rather suspicious of seemingly codependent “celestial bellhops” I do think that the idea of a god as an archetype/manifestation of human emotion has been quite helpful as a schema to help us order our understanding of ourselves and each other.  I also think that the deification of these human attributes has helped us foster and emulate altruistic ideals.  The Roman pagans seemed particularly adept at imagining these characters.  I suspect that an unfortunate side-affect of abrahamic monotheism is that while God is given different names that coincide with certain imagined attributes, these names are often overshadowed by the perceived awful omnipotence of the numinous.

Those of you who know me well know that I tend to be harshly critical of religious practice.  Some of you might misunderstand my criticism and believe that I am critical of all religion.  This is not the case.  Unlike my favorite curmudgeon atheist authors Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens I believe that humanity should be grateful for our religious traditions and knowledge.   It is within the world’s religions that we find the stories that expose our historical state-of-mind.  Essentially our ancestor’s psychological meanderings and journeys are all contained within our religions.  It is in our holy books that we find hope for redemption, thrilling hopes, and our darkest fears.  However generally I remain quite aligned with Dawkins and Hitchens about the contemporary practice of religion being superfluous and even psychologically harmful. I believe that religion should be explored and discussed, valued and questioned, but NEVER practiced (my glib apologies to those of you who do).

Red, White, and Muslim is a beautiful book with an annoying proselytizing flavor.  Hasan’s passion is likeable and very accessible.  She adeptly portrays the humanity and beautiful commonness of the average muslim.  Her description of her American family is like that of any other.  Their is a welcoming familiarity in her description of her relatives and family events.  Additionally, her description of various Islamic sects is informative and rather orienting for an average American accustomed to a media that tends to .  Yet, despite an admirable effort the reader will most likely be disappointed (because Hasan is so like able) when she fails to convince us of the virtues of some of the more restrictive Islamic practices.  Hasan’s desire for Islam to be a feminist friendly practice is endearing but naive.  Her earnest explanation for the Qur’an’s mandate that daughters receive half of the inheritance that their sons receive is downright uncomfortable in it’s ridiculousness.  Still, her effort is appreciated and her informal language and descriptions are captivating.  The reader almost wants there to be veracity to her claims.

Red, White, and Muslim is a great read–especially for those of us who might be a bit uncomfortable with our own prejudices and ignorance about those who practice Islam.  I look forward to the day when more of us are able to call each other friend instead of enemy.  May whatever diety, philosophy or creed you follow grant you the wisdom to choose friendship over enmity.

Backyard Fun

This is the first year following our Urbanweeds debacle that I’ve felt like spending any time in the backyard.  So far it’s been pretty fun hanging out there.  Aesthetically we are making some slow progress–now if we can just get some sun…

Personal Commandment 5: Wake Up

The curious thing about my personal commandments is that none of them are really all that stagnant. They are dynamic and constantly evolving.  This commandment in particular is a relatively new one for me. I have been honing and refining it as I have been reading Robert Rowland Smith’s book Breakfast with Socrates. In Smith’s somewhat overly formulaic book, he takes us on a breezy overview of western philosophy. In his third chapter, Smith introduces us to the mind of Nietzsche.

Since my college days I have been fascinated by the writings of Nietzsche. Originally I was drawn to the contrarian subversiveness of his writings.  His proclamation that “God is Dead” seemed deliciously wicked to me. I was reminded of and offered a different perception of Nietzsche’s nihilism during graduate school when I read Irvin Yalom’s When Nietzsche Wept.  Yalom introduces us to a Nietzsche whose ideas are disturbingly similar to someone suffering from a Major Depressive or Dysthymic disorder.

I keep a copy of a compilation of Nietzsche’s writings on the top shelf of my desk at work.  Only my most well-read clients ever comment on my little ironic and somewhat disconcerting private joke.  I generally don’t utilize Nietzsche’s ideas as a guide for my practice.  Rather, the presence of his book is my own personal reminder that brilliance and insight can still be found right in the middle of profound mental illness.

Smith’s book reminded my of my favorite and simplest of all Nietzsche’s challenges: “Make your reality your ideal.” Live today for today.  Make the most of it.  Ditch the fantasy of another world or a heaven to save you from yourself and your mistakes.  Live as if this is the only chance you get, invest in your life, WAKE UP and live!

I suspect that even my most conservative Christian friends might find some wisdom in the idea that we should be as responsible as possible for our own choices on a daily basis.  So often I sit with clients who have romantic notions of how their life might be better “if only” some aspect were different.  “If only” they weighed less; “if only” they were loved more; “if only” they made more money.  It is these very fantasies that keep them trapped in a perpetual purgatorial sleep.  They wish to be “delivered” from their miseries.  But these fantasies of being magically “delivered” are a terrible hindrance to what we can accomplish here, today.

So I choose to be awake.  I choose to experience the pain and inevitable suffering of being alive, I choose to experience ecstasy, disappointment, rejection, aging, tragedy, sexual rapture, sickness, health, disgust, love, and all the myriad of other emotions that this life has to offer me.  I choose to be awake.  I choose to live this life and not disregard and gamble it away for the sake of a potential mythical alternative.

Love Stories

Last night I watched Chris & Don: A Love Story which is a beautiful documentary exploring the 33 year relationship between author Christopher Isherwood and his lover, portrait artist Don Bachardy.  I have been a fan of Isherwood’s work for as long as I can remember being interested in any author.  As an adolescent I was enamored by Cabaret, shortly after I came out Isherwood’s autobiography Christopher and His Kind became something of a personal bible for me.  I found Isherwood’s descriptions of his experiences, longings, and gay life not just familiar but comforting and affirming.  Isherwood taught me to be proud and unapologetic about who I am.

I cried the first time I read Isherwood’s A Single Man.  I cried again when I watched Colin Firth’s performance in the movie adaptation.  I cried a third time when Firth won his Oscar.  Each of my tears was bursting with concentrated gratitude for Isherwood’s art and life which has helped me find and claim so much meaning in my own.

Chris & Don is uncomfortable at times.  Older men coupled with younger beauties is common to all men (gay or straight).  Less common is a 30 year age span.  Yet as this love story unfolds we are given access to a beautiful lifelong symbiotic relationship. Bachardy’s description of his daily drawings of a cancer ridden Isherwood near his last days are simultaneously horrific and inspiring.

Isherwood led a rich and very full life.  It is easy to see why his writings are so compelling when given a glimpse of the complicated yet rich and loving relationships that both he and Bachardy he enjoyed.

Meet Dexter

Recently I referred a new friend to this blog and realized (with some small amount of shame) that I haven’t posted an entry this year. Overall my year has been a good one. I spent a month of it in Buenos Aires, I turned 40 and perhaps more importantly, on June 25, 2011 we adopted Dexter.

It’s been about 18 years since I’ve had a puppy. I’ve forgotten how much they gnaw, bite, pee, poop, cry, whine, and beg. I’d also forgotten how fun they are to snuggle and all the attention that they get as you walk down the street.

Dexter pretending that he is a perfect puppy.

Dexter has a bit more energy than most pups I’ve known. At 14 weeks he already goes to doggie daycare (yes fellow dog owners this is early but also vet approved) mostly because he seems to need more stimulation and socialization than we can provide (how ironic that I may have a behaviorally challenged–e.g. ADHD–dog). When we pick him up from daycare the staff will usually make a comment about how “active” Dexter was during the day.

Dexter can be simultaneously frustrating and hilarious. Yesterday we had a friend over in the afternoon. I put out some baby carrots, cut peppers and ranch dressing for us to gnaw on as we chatted. After about three minutes Dexter launched himself (in ONE leap) onto the coffee table and got four good licks of Ranch dressing down before we could stop him. He KNEW he wasn’t supposed to do this and he made sure he could accomplish his little feat before he started.

Then there are times, like right now, when Dexter sleeps sweetly resting his head on my feet as he pretends that he is already the perfect pet that he will one day become.

Exercise and Mental Hygiene

Yet another re-blog from my professional site over at Seattlecounselor.org.

Over the years I have noticed a correlation between my most anxious and depressed clients and their levels of exercise. In general, it seems that the more depressed or anxious a client is, the less exercise they get. While it’s likely that depression and anxiety interfere with the desire to exercise, it’s also often one of the most effective ways to ameliorate these intense feeling states.

Even a moderate amount of casual walking (e.g. a mile a day) can have a positive effect on the amount of “feel good” hormones like seretonin, endorphine, and adrenaline that are available to our brains. In addition to relatively immediate benefits to our mood, we know that there are multiple other benefits to be gained from regular exercise.

The idea of a mind/body connection isn’t new to most of us. Still, we frequently find excuses to skip our regular (or not so regular) workout routine. Life happens, and we find ourselves side-tracked by work, friends, kids, hobbies, and various random distractions.

We need to remember that exercise is crucial to both our physical and mental health. One of my favorite questions for my clients is whether or not they have showered, brushed their teeth, and applied deodorant that day. I tend to get ever so slightly uncomfortable–and occasionally indignant–responses in the affirmative. These activities help us to be physically healthy. I believe that regular exercise is as important for mental health as these other activities are for physical and social health — yet we routinely neglect exercise more often, simply because the detrimental effects aren’t always as immediate as bad breath or body odor. I wonder what we would think if we could directly track our lack of exercise on our feelings, moods, interactions with others, and even our relationships?

The benefits of journaling…

The following is reposted from my professional site over at Seattlecounselor.org–a bit ironic considering my lack of blog entries in Q4 2010. Happy New Year all!

One of the key elements of wellness is developing self-awareness. Many of us are prone to anxiety and the hidden traps that sometimes accompany anxiety. One of these traps is perseveration. Sometimes individuals who struggle with anxiety repeat or focus on the same thought or worry over and over again.

One of my favorite ways to challenge “internalized perseveration” is to ask my clients to journal. The art of journaling provides the individual with a tangible way to capture a troubling “rogue” thought that keeps running around in your brain (bumping into other more useful thoughts and generally making a nuisance of themselves). I often utilize imagery from the Harry Potter movies with my clients. I compare the process of journaling to that of wizard Dumbledore taking his magical wand and pulling a memory out of his head and depositing the memory in the “pensieve” where it can be kept, relived, and reviewed at the memory holder’s convenience.

New to journaling? Try these exercises as a way to start your journal. Are you a pro at journaling? Why not think about adding a new element to your journaling such as creating a journaling scrapbook, photos or even starting a blog so that you can share your thoughts with others.

Regardless of how you choose to “capture” your rogue thoughts the process of journaling can be a great adjunct activity to almost any formal therapeutic work you might be engaged in.

Meet Grizelda

Grizelda (Grizzy) is the newest member of our clan. She arrived one week ago in a little box lined with a tiny little heating pad (the kind that fit into gloves an mittens). We’ve been spending a ridiculous amount of time attending to this little beast. But she’s worth it. Grizzy is a Bearded Dragon. Dragons originally came from Australia but they have been VERY successfully domesticated and bred in homes. They tend to make great pets and they remind me of my dear Australian friends (shout out to Sandy and Jamie–no you don’t remind me of lizards…she’s sweet and I miss both of you).

"Grizzy" the Bearded Dragon

I had no idea that ANY reptile could have this much personality. In the morning she crawls up onto my hand as if to say, “whatever took you so gawdawful long?…I’m starving!” She will then ravenously eats 7 or 8 crickets in rather rapid (and impressive) succession. However, raspberries are her favorite food thus far. She will eat collard greens but only if I hand feed them to her. Her favorite activity is basking underneath the crazy expensive UVB light that I had to purchase for her. Welcome Grizzy! You are a little bit silly but a very fun little addition to our family.