Category Archives: Kindness

Cutting off Mom and Dad, Part 1

We were talking about families, generally, over breakfast.

“I don’t know why family therapy isn’t held in greater esteem,” my husband commented. “Look at what things are like for families…people are really struggling.”

I agreed with the struggling. And, yes, it would be nice if family therapy were more respected. It is rich with the integration of lifespan development, evolutionary psychology, personality, temperament, and culture. Family psychology and family therapy seem to be the neglected child in the world of mental health. Yet every theory of development, and most personality theories, see the family and early life experiences as foundational to the development of the adult person.  How we attach to others, the ease of trust, our expectations of the world, are all rooted in life experiences, particularly those early life experiences most often lived in the context of family.

Well, of course, if we emphasize family then we are saying family is important, pivotal, vital. And that, it seems, flies in the face of much of the mainline culture.

I will take one small slice for now: the bizarre movement to cut off parents who were not, and are not, abusive, neglectful, cruel, or so otherwise dysfunctional that remaining in active relationship with them would be endangering to one’s safety and/or sanity. There seems to have been, over the past few years, a growing movement in this regard. I have spoken with people, and read books by professionals, on both sides of these issues: the grieving parent and the disgruntled adult child; the professionals who attempt to help parents bridge the gap or, if that is impossible, to heal from the grief, and the therapists whose main lens is the toxic relationship that will only hurt you until you extricate yourself.

Are there cruel, abusive and destructively manipulative parents? Yup. And, likewise, selfish, cold and manipulative adult children, too.  And my somewhat limited professional experience (I’ve been in this field about 30 years) is that sometimes children who cut off parents did not have abusive, cruel parents. Sometimes, people cut off parents who did not do what the child wished, did not read their minds, did not feel obliged to agree and praise everything their child did.

And here we come to a piece of the culture guaranteed to undermine the family: the demand that people validate and accept whatever one thinks, feels, and does as indisputably “okay” because it is how we “feel,” etc. Well, now we have a problem that any family therapist could easily explain.

Mommies, generally, give children the majority of early care.  They provide unconditional love and approval because, as Dr. Jordan Peterson often points out, infants are “always right.” If the baby is crying, the baby is right: something needs attention, swiftly, lovingly and gently! That loving care must come even if baby is colicky, pukey, poopy, or otherwise quite disagreeable.  The baby is, after all, always right. However, this stage of life passes, and then Daddy’s influence increases: Daddies specialize in unconditional love with conditional approval. “I love you, and the room is a mess. Get going on it, kid. Here, I’ll give you a hand.”

This coordinated approach works great: it prepares children for the real world, where people have expectations and you can’t just do “whatever” and then complain it’s how you feel, and have everyone act shame-faced, shrug and say, Oh, OK. If that’s how you feel. Whatever.  Children benefit from the solid backing of both parents’ love, and the experience that disapproval of how I behave does not mean I am not loved. It means my behavior probably needs improvement.

The world, or the part of it to which children and young adults are often exposed, plays another tune. The modern message is that the relentlessly approving gaze of a nursing mother ought to be the perspective of parents forever, across all circumstances. That is a set-up to disrupt and undermine the family.

And it appears to be working terrifically.

A child goes off to college and is enlightened about…it matters not.  Politics, nutrition, whatever. They realize their parents are abject idiots. Worse, their parents may be bad and ill-intentioned because, look! A younger sibling is being raised in a religious/liberal/conservative/omnivore/vegetarian/whatever home. Big sibling becomes disrespectful towards the parents, dismissive, and undercuts them in an attempt to rescue little sibling from the fate of growing up in the same family.

Or, a young adult who is apparently sliding along, perhaps in perpetual adolescence, shifting from goal to goal, engaged with street pharmacology or alcohol, resents the parent who dares express concern and perhaps even the intent to turn off the money tap. Anger, resentment, and accusations flare; the young person demands parental fealty, blames the parents, and the parents, afraid of losing the relationship, are tempted to cave and pretend that a ten-year cycle of major changes in undergraduate school is just okay. It wouldn’t be okay even if the young person was the one financing it with their series of so-not-serious jobs; it would still be a waste of talent and youth.

In short, the mainstream culture offers the illusion that new-mommy bottomless approval is what is normal for adults. Do parents contribute to the problem of parent/child alienation? Absolutely; and that will be a story for another day.

What’s up with that?

Why do you do what you do?

No, seriously. Why do you do what you do, whatever it is that you do?

Could you get a bit obsessive about this question? I suppose so. But it is worth asking, over and over again.

You got out of bed at whatever time it was. Why? For what purpose?

Why did you eat and drink what you ate and drank? Or, why did you choose not to eat?

What did you put on your body to wear out into the world, to tell other people about you, your tastes, and your intentions?  Why those messages, and not some other messages? Why are those the messages you choose to give to the world?

Why did you go to work? Why did you choose that work?

Why did you behave that way, and not some other way, towards whatever persons you encountered along the way?

Why, why, why, why.  Sometimes it is important to take a step back and ask that defense-raising question of yourself, repeatedly, digging in.

Well, why, you might ask, and it is a worthwhile question.  Asking ourselves “why” is very important, because, if we drill down far enough, we come down to whether or not we have decided upon a central principle, a guiding ethic, a core belief that allows us to direct our behavior with cohesion and authenticity towards our purpose.  If you don’t have a “why,” you are less focused than the average toddler. A toddler can be remarkably determined in pursuing her goals, despite an inability to clearly articulate the “why” for coloring on the walls or giving Teddy Bear a bath in the toilet. 

For religious people, the central “why” comes down to a covenantal relationship with the Lord and, for Christians, a relationship with Jesus, the Christ.  That is the “why.”

Why get out of bed on time? Because an orderly life (ordered to what is best) requires self-discipline and routine, and honoring one’s legitimate commitments to others.

Why be kind to the barista, the cashier, the slowly shambling person in front of you on the sidewalk? Because they, like you, are a child of God and your rooted relationship with Him requires you to treat others as His children, too.

Why be honest with someone when you know it will be ill-received – the student whose work is apparently plagiarized, the employer asking you to do the unethical, the adult family member who is drinking in excess? Because it is important to be truthful, to not allow dishonesty to muddy the waters of relationships and to let yourself slip into that mud out of fear of conflict. Because your relationship with the Lord requires you to act honestly, justly, and with love.

Wishing you a new year full of the joy of discovering beautiful “why’s” in your life!

When God Speaks

“It just seems awful convenient that whenever my dad prays, it turns out God tells him to do whatever he wanted to do in the first place.”  The teenager was slouched, watching me sidelong through floppy bangs, waiting to see how I, the Christian counselor, would respond to his cynical appraisal of his father’s approach to prayer.  I nodded slowly and asked for examples…examples that seemed, I thought to myself, to at least support the child’s misgivings about prayer in particular, and religion in general.

My experience is that, more often than not, what I experience as God suggesting a course of action is precisely what I do not want to do.  Whether this is because I am by nature and habit a worse person than this boy’s father or I am more honest about not liking to do some things, I cannot know.

If you are not a person of religious faith, no doubt this all sounds pretty crazy.  Perhaps you suspect that Christians are hallucinating, or pretending to do so, in order to fit in with the group.  Who know; perhaps that happens.  What a non-believer may not know is that when Christians talk about discerning a message from God, we are likely talking about one or more of these experiences:

  1. The thought that pops up, unexpected and persistent.  For example, I had the thought pop up to call someone with whom I hadn’t spoken in a year or two. The thought nagged at me. “I really should call ‘Beth.’”  It turned out that ‘Beth’ had just had a death in the family, and other trials, and needed some friendly encouragement.  A non-believer thinks of that as a coincidence; a believer attributes it to God’s Spirit at work in and among us.
  2. The events of our lives: the series of experiences that are, perhaps, unexpected and beckon us to pay attention to a pattern. Perhaps we have been ignoring that pattern; perhaps the busy-ness of our lives has fogged our attention. This might also include
  3. The people around us; their words and actions may plant seeds. They might speak truth to us, including truth we don’t like, such as confronting us on a bad habit or poor choices.
  4. God’s Word: Scripture speaks across the centuries. For example, consider how quick many biblical persons were to rebel and give up when the going got tough – despite all the good they had experienced. How different are we, and what could we draw out of these examples to be more persistent in times of trouble?
  5. Through beauty:  nature, art and music, literature.

There are others, of course, but these are perhaps the most common. I have known two people who claimed to have heard a booming voice speak to them, but mostly, when people talk about messages from God, it comprises one or more of the above categories. They do their daily scripture reading, and then encounter a similar message in a song, or a news story. A friend shares an experience that echoes that theme, and a thought pops in, unbidden and somewhat surprising, “Perhaps I should…” or, “I really need to…”

If you are a non-believer, you might attribute all this to coincidence, or some vague power in the universe. A matter of quantum physics, you might shrug, imagining a little particle in “Beth’s” brain synchronizing across the miles with its partner in mine. It seems that the most elemental grasp of what is suggested by quantum physics should quell any urge towards atheism.

Anyhow…that’s a mini-explanation of what believers often mean when we talk about hearing from God. I hope that clears up any silliness about mass psychosis.  As my young client noted, it might be discernment, and it might be a convenient little personal excuse; that is inevitably our human nature.  We see what we want to see, except when we unexpectedly encounter a mirror. But that is a story for another day.

Taking it to the mats

What ever happened to giving someone some grace?  Or being tolerant?

As regular readers, I occasionally page through popular magazines just to see what sort of toxins are floating around in the public sphere.  It’s less time-consuming and annoying than hours of screen time. Between what I read, and what I hear from those on the receiving end of what is often cruelty, there is a whole lot less tolerance in these self-referentially oh-so-tolerant times than in the past. Often supposedly tolerant people demand that any disagreement be taken to the mats, verbally if not physically.

To be clear, I am talking about disagreements between people where there is no violence or threat of violence. I am not talking about adopting a “live and let live” attitude about child abuse or elder exploitation or criminal acts. I wonder where tolerance and grace went when it comes to the people we encounter in nonviolent settings in our daily lives.

A simple little example was an advice columnist’s suggestion that dealing with an annoying “friend” who calls during work hours and drains your energy and time with daily drama should comprise a formal sit-down in which you express how their thoughtless behavior impacts your feelings and your work, and expect some sort of mature, measured apology.  I am practical. My guidance would be along these lines: this is your “friend.” Surely you noticed before this that she seemingly has the thoughtlessness and flimsy self-control of a spoiled tween.  You accepted the friendship under those terms; she hasn’t changed. You have. Stop taking calls or looking at texts from her during work. What kind of job allows you to chat with friends on the employer’s dime?  Call her back when it’s convenient. And, if you choose to be friends with her, accept that she is as she is. She will be immature and you will have to set boundaries. Sure, tell her you can’t be interrupted at work. But you and I both know that having a nice little sit-down with her isn’t worth the aggravation. Imagine the flood of drama, spilling and splashing all over the table at the coffee shop.

In families, people disagree. At Thanksgiving, if you are fortunate enough to have family and friends with whom you can gather, people will have differing opinions. At least one of them may have misplaced their tolerance or drowned it in some substance of abuse. What to do? You might have fun arguing. My late cousin George, who had Soviet bullet fragments in his leg from his teenage adventures helping people escape from East Berlin, would take a perspective he didn’t necessarily agree with, for the entertainment of developing and defending a position, and do it with a twinkle in his eye. You might find that stressful; your plan may be to discreetly go do some dishes because “here s/he goes again.”  You might enlist at least one ally in a plan to divert and change topics if the intolerant person who expects everyone else to be tolerant starts pontificating. You might decide to politely express your perspective. Depending on the people present, any of those may be prudent.

Some people implode relationships foolishly. I know people who were cut off on the flimsiest of rationale; because they are “too negative,” or “worry too much.”  People cut off parents because their parents do not “support” (as in overtly cheer and brag about) their adult child’s career choice, tattoos, or other decisions.  And, conversely, parents cut off adult children.  In cases where people are dangerous, or truly disruptive (the addicted adult child who breaks in and steals from the parents; the abusive parent; the family member who is aggressive and belligerent about their cause-du-jour, as examples) then yes, safety and sanity require appropriate distance-setting. This is sad, even when necessary.

I’m not an appeaser or a door mat. When it comes to disagreements, I think that freedom requires that we live and let live in peace (that’s what tolerance used to mean) until the circumstances are such that it is necessary. Necessary means that an expectation for compliance is placed upon me, a demand that I change my mind or pretend to agree with something I find false.  It is necessary when harm is being done, is threatened, or is imminent. That is when it is important to speak up, calmly and rationally, to base my position in fact and refuse to play silly word games. Speak calmly, peacefully, firmly and succinctly, refusing to pretend. That would be a way to “take it to the mats.”

Paraphrasing St. Francis of Assisi – Peace and every good to you.

Mental Forecast: Partly Cloudy with a Chance of Passing Befuddlement

I’d prefer, of course, to blame it all on COVID-19, civil unrest and the general zeitgeist.  No such luck. It is solely due to my own sloppiness (how I managed to read information, mistype it, and then overlook my error multiple times while editing, I cannot know) and thus, in my recent article, “The Sin of Referral,” misidentified the professional group mentioned; it should have been the American Counseling Association, rather than the American Mental Health Counselors Association.  I apologize for this.

I would also rather credit COVID with what has apparently been seen, by some parties, as my dismissal of the suffering of young people during the pandemic.  My ability to be clear has failed me; certainly, this was not my intention. I work with many young people and their families, and their suffering has been genuine. I am also aware, however, that young people were suffering greatly, and in a terrible upward surge, for the past decade or more.  The research on the compelling correlation between smartphone use and emotional distress of many kinds, especially in the young, is readily available for the curious reader.  I stand beside the assertion that we adults bear responsibility for teaching young people how to think, how to interpret the signs of the times, and for modeling hope rather than despair, resiliency rather than defeat.  If the constrictions of this past year are unbearable, how do we make sense of the diary of Anne Frank? Of the countless children, in England, Germany and elsewhere, sent away from family to live as often unwanted guests with strangers to be safer from bombs during WWII and yet played, studied, made friends? Of the lives of so many on this planet now, where abysmal living conditions would seem to quell any hope or joy, and yet one finds giggling children, cooing parents, adherence to principles, and the shy, burning moments of young love?

I could point to the fact that in my particular field – the mental health field – we are receptacles for our pain, our loved ones’ pain, and the pain of everyone with whom we work. Yes, this is always the case, and now the strains of the pandemic, unemployment, loss of loved ones, separation from loved ones, has crept like lava over the normal pains of life: grief, depression, anxiety, loneliness.  Most of our conversations are one-sided, in that those conversations occur solely for the benefit of one party, and the party had best not be the therapist. The mutual supportiveness of two-sided conversations is necessarily truncated. Add to this that friends and loved ones (like ourselves) have little reservoir from which to offer solace.  Most of the therapists I know have dug even deeper into prayer, into silence with God, and turning more to colleagues whom we know are on that same trail for encouragement and support.

Perhaps you, too, are noticing strange mental impacts from the cascading stressors of the past year. Perhaps not; we are prone to generalizing from what we know, and if we are introspective at all, then our own experiences are what we “know,” at least to some extent.  I know I am in many ways an odd duck; I dislike clothes shopping and like crows. I would rather stay home and read than to go “out.”  The outside chance exists, then, that it really is “just me,” and the rest of the world is rolling along, firing efficiently on all cylinders.

I doubt it. It doesn’t look to be so.

So, here is an antidote for me, and perhaps for you. Somebody you know, at any rate, could use some.

Grace. Just give one another a bit of grace, even more than in so-called “normal” times, in which grace was already in grievously short supply.

Guess what? People will say things that are stupid, or inaccurate, or sound awful out of context (and stupid and inaccurate, even in context). Even professionals will sometimes screw up! Your physician might seem to not as focused as you’d like, your counselor may give you homework that doesn’t suit or not explain herself properly.  The dentist’s office has to close on the day of your cleaning because of a COVID breakout. None of these is the equivalent of giving you poison or leaving a surgical tool behind when you are sewn back together. Give them a bit of grace.

The mail will be slow. There will be inexplicable gaps on the grocery shelves. (I did lose some patience when Dove dark chocolate and Nestle’s Peppermint Mocha coffee creamer were AWOL at the same time; it seemed a harsh injustice.) People will be anxious and insensitive, so wrapped in their own fears that they forget other people are as fragile and sacred as they.

Friends, family, professionals and strangers alike may be so eager to comfort you that they inadvertently do or say something not entirely useful. They offer silly, unwanted advice and unhelpful platitudes. Let it pass.  Assume, perhaps, you misunderstood, misheard, misinterpreted. The possibility exists. Accept the spirit of kindness and let the trappings go.

One of the side effects of grace is that it enhances humility, and that, too, is a good thing. This way, when I (or you) am the one who fumbles, missteps, speaks foolishly but with good intention, I can, with some embarrassment, acknowledge the error and accept benevolence.

…and if all this talk of grace and humility is more uncomfortable for you than an N95 mask with an extra cloth mask over it, then consider this:  just be kind, for crying out loud. Cut someone some slack. Including, of course, yourself.

The forecast for me, for the time being, is (mentally) partly cloudy with a chance of passing befuddlement. Expect periods of anxiety throughout the evening.  The morning, as all mornings are, will be glorious.

How about you?

An Echoing Silence

Does anyone ever admit that they are not exactly the best communicator around? Maybe even that they are crummy conversationalists, incorrigibly competitive, and a bossy know-it-all, too?  Probably not.

Wouldn’t that be nice to hear sometimes?  Someone freely admitting the “communication problems” are at least a little bit on their side?

Maybe you think there are communication problems – the person in question (spouse, friend, child, parent) “never talks with me.”  It may be on their side, certainly – most problems have multiple factors, and communication is no exception. However, you only have control over you – not them.  So, if the communication problem falls into the “we never talk anymore” column, perhaps the following might offer perspectives.  If it’s possible it might be you…

Are you the Conversation Hijacker?  Does every topic offer you a possibility to wrestle control of the conversation, taking over, changing direction and refusing to yield to the other people in the conversation?  They bring up the local baseball team and you take “sports” and launch into a detailed analysis of an entirely different game, the season ahead, and every stupid mistake the nearest team made when adding new players.

Perhaps you are the Professor. You don’t discuss, you lecture: expanding on your opinion, the evidence as you see it, and what’s wrong with other people’s positions, beliefs, or behaviors.  Expertise is wonderful; battering people with it is not nice.

Related to this, perhaps you become the Guidance Counselor or Coach: giving unsolicited advice, suggestions, and explanations of the person’s “problem” and the solution as you see it.  You don’t stop to be sure you have enough information to even begin to formulate advice; in your unconscious arrogance, you assume you have perfect-fit prêt-a-porté advice for every occasion.

Or, perhaps you are the Competitor.  They have a headache? You’ve had a migraine for days.  Their beloved pet died? You have three sad stories to top their heartache.  They have a muscle ache, but YOU need physical therapy.

Do you just launch into a monologue, barely taking a breath and not allowing the usual give-and-take of conversation?

Sometimes, the echoing silence on the other end of the couch is really on that end – your wife is lost in thought, your husband is anxious, your parent is depressed, or your teenager is preoccupied with stressors.  Perhaps there is some unresolved hurt between you. Perhaps, though, the person you love has fallen silent because they cannot trust you to stay in the conversation with them; they expect you to take over.

Two Old Ladies

There is a kind of dignified poverty encountered in 19th century British literature. Clean, neat, quiet, well-read, hard-working and uncomplaining, these people, dwelling on the fringes of society, are portrayed as reading classics by candlelight after a long day of work, perhaps aloud, while another family member darns a tired sock for the umpteenth time. They take in mending and other tasks from their social betters, and are sometimes invited to large gatherings where they meekly take seats on the periphery. They are fictional creatures, bound up as minor characters in musty books.
My (great-) Aunt Ann and Aunt Marion lived that dignified poverty, although it was the 20th century, in the cold water flats of Jersey City. My grandmother’s younger sisters, their time spanned Jersey City’s deterioration and ended before its re-gentrification.
Passing them on the street, you would not notice them: two older maiden ladies, often arm in arm, purses tucked under their coats in fear of purse-snatchers. Who would give a thought to two old ladies? They kept an extra dollar in one shoe, just in case. They dressed neatly, and well, and cared for their few possessions so that they could be worn for many years. Cursed with a genetic tendency to lose their hair in middle age, they wore demure, neatly styled wigs. Aunt Marion, being a bit flashier, had sparkly corners on her cat’s-eye glasses, and a preference for the color red. They worked in sweat shops and at other menial jobs. Aunt Ann, for a long time, operated the elevator in a business office skyscraper, an opportunity to work in a cleaner, quieter environment. Neither had an 8th grade diploma – the meaning of “graduation” in their time and place. They could not drive. They traveled little, to visit family sometimes. Their tiny apartment was sparklingly clean. They read classic literature, were knowledgeable about history, current events, and the activities of the people they loved. They loved, it seemed, everyone. They were cheerful and generous beyond their means, unflaggingly loyal to their nieces, their nieces’ children, and their children. Devout Catholics themselves, spending considerable time daily in prayer for others, they were remarkably tolerant of astonishingly stupid and bad behavior among their extended family. It mattered not how grievous the misdeeds: the errant youth was, at heart, Aunt Ann and Aunt Marion would assert, “a good girl,” or “a good boy.” After all, look how good she is to her mother; see how thoughtful he is towards his sisters. Anyone whose deity is harsh and unforgiving never met someone like Ann or Marion. The closest they came to criticizing was sharing a sidelong look and a single, slow nod, a kind of connection possible between two sisters who grew up together, raised two nieces from ages 8 and 15 together when one of their older sisters died, and shared the same ancient double bed most of their lives.
Strolling past, you would have looked through them, and unless you are a very special person indeed, you have looked through, perhaps, thousands of people like Aunt Ann and Aunt Marion. Not out of meanness, but because the people of the remnant – that pure and poor bit of holiness – are so often, apparently, invisible. Besides that, both poverty and old age frighten people, and thus we look away. If not away, exactly, then certainly not directly at them.
They have been gone for many years now, and I still regret that I was not a good-enough niece, certainly not worthy of the fondness and praise they heaped upon me. From Florida, I sent some homemade cookies now and then; a randomly spaced letter between birthday and Christmas cards, small gifts that I thought they might like at Christmas. I mentioned, during their lifetimes, my befuddlement at their level of praise for what a good girl I was to my mother, who loved them dearly and called them often. She stopped what she was doing to look at me and said, “Please. Do you think anyone else gives a thought for two old ladies?”
A sad question, that: who gives a thought for two old ladies, or an old man or two?
How hard is it, to give a thought for any other person? “People will not remember what you said or did, they will remember how you made them feel,” is the theme of the “most important award” at our granddaughter’s Catholic school, and one we were proud to hear she had won at the end of second grade. It is good to know that the kindness and sweetness we experience from her flows outwards, beyond the family. Her precocious insight into human nature is something she wields only with compassion. At seven, viewing Goodbye, Christopher Robin, she watched WW I veterans stomping balloons and announced, “They are doing that to learn not to be scared. “ She makes people feel special. Perhaps she has a touch of her great-great-great aunts’ spirits.
The gift of presence is that quality of attention: the attention that lets someone know that right now, they are the most important person, and whatever they are doing with you is most worthy of their attention. (My aunts, having read Tolstoy, could have told you all about it, but only if you brought it up first. They would not show off, and they would never broach a subject that might embarrass someone else.)
How powerful their capacity for presence within their humble, dignified way of life, a life that seems invisible to those who will not look at them. Then again, who would give a thought for two old ladies?