Growing up, my sister and I fought a lot. I'm sure we drove our parents crazy, bickering about one perceived slight or another--who stole the purple Barbie Corvette, whose turn it was to sit in the front seat--really important stuff like that.
When frazzled adults attempted to intervene, we would immediately attempt to soften the blow of justice by casting ourselves in the role of victim. "She started it!" or "It was all her fault!" These battle cries did little to exonerate us. More frequently, they got us both into more trouble. I am now a mother and witness to my children's whodunnit capers. At twelve and fourteen, when they disagree, it is imperative my children determine whose fault it is or who started it. Back and forth they lob the blame, desperate to "win," until they tire or I go all "Scary Mommy" on them, whichever comes first (hint: it's usually the latter). Thirty-five years later, my children picked up the argument right where my sister and I left it. With underdeveloped egos, children play the blame game because they don't know any better. For them, a complex world is made simpler when viewed through lenses of right and wrong. Why then, in conflict, do adult family members, lovers, or friends (who know better) dissolve into enemies over seemingly trivial things? The answer is both simple and complex. Conflict exposes our unmet needs for love, acceptance, or acknowledgement. The more intense the conflict, the deeper the unmet need. Acute awareness of this hunger makes us feel ashamed. We attack others so they won't notice how vulnerable we are. Acknowledgement and understanding open our channels for love; self-righteousness closes them. Dividing arguments into factions of winners and losers is a betrayal of our hunger. Every time we point our finger away from ourselves, we are unconsciously telling love where to go. If it is love we crave the most, when we are wounded, we must be brave enough to step off the mat, first toward ourselves, then toward each other. While there is no prescriptive formula for this, here are a few things to consider: 1. Know when you are triggered and take care of yourself. "The red zone" (increased heart rate, blood pressure, unclear thinking, etc.) is your body's way of signaling you to stop and pay attention to your own unmet needs. When you start to feel overwhelmed, tell the person with whom you are in conflict that you need to take a quick break to settle yourself. Twenty minutes is usually enough time to reduce cortisol (aka stress hormone) levels and restore clear thinking. When you are calm, ask yourself what you really want. 2. Consider both sides. Compassion inches us toward connection. Like you, the human with whom you are arguing is also lugging around a suitcase full of his or her own unmet needs. You already know your side of the story. Practice arguing his or hers: how might s/he feel? What might s/he want? Exploring another's perspective does not mean we agree with it. It simply means we are open to considering someone else's point of view. Sometimes, feeling heard is enough to convince both parties to drop the rope. 3. Depersonalize outcomes. Ask respectfully for what you want. This does not mean that you will get it. Rarely is this personal. Remember: all disappointment is an invitation to attend to our own hunger. Offer yourself the love you seek from another. 4. This too is temporary. This "thing" that seems so important right now? It will eventually pass. Every feeling we have is designed to last approximately 60-90 seconds. That's it! 5. Set an intention for change and give it time. Like a scab, anxiety can tempt us to pick at a situation that would otherwise heal nicely on its own. Not knowing what to do right now could mean that both time and nature need to work their magic. Set this down for a while. You can always come back to it later. All you need to know right now is that you are open to resolution. 6. You're in this together. All relationships are co-created. You alone are not responsible for fixing any relationship. Resolution requires participation from both parties. There is no shame in hunger. Wrap your arms around whatever it is you yearn for. When we hold ourselves accountable for our own unmet needs, conflict does not divide us. It helps us find each other! Dr. Jill Gross is a licensed psychologist, therapist, and counselor. She offers grief therapy, divorce support, and other counseling services in the Phinney Greenwood area of Seattle, WA. Is your relationship being torn apart by conflict? Schedule a free consultation to find out how therapy or counseling can help put things back together.
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In the checkout line at the grocery store a woman was speaking loudly into her cell phone. "Wish me luck," she bellowed, "Lord knows I need it. I'm broke. And I don't mean financially. I mean emotionally, spiritually broken!"
Instantly, my mind traveled to the slips of paper in the front pocket of my purse. Earlier this year, I attended a party, the purpose of which was to manufacture and spread positivity into world. Each guest was asked to craft personalized poems, memes, and messages of hope, kindness, and encouragement. Our missives were to be distributed throughout the community at random. Unexpected pockets of pleasantry for those who could use it. Upon hearing the shopper's plight, I planned to stealthily slip one of the handmade notes into her grocery bag. Ah...the best laid plans. Either I moved too slowly or she moved too quickly because, when I looked up from the check stand, the stranger was headed for the cart corral. I followed her and tried to put the note in her bag before she could see me. But she busted me--red-handed! Tongue-tied and sweaty-palmed I extended the note in her direction. "Here...I've got something for you." I was shocked by what happened next. The woman who, just moments earlier declared her brokenness to the world (okay, not the world, but at least a dozen other shoppers in the checkout line) recoiled in disgust. It was as if I was handing her a soiled diaper. Or an envelope filled with anthrax. Clearly, the stranger wanted nothing to do the note or its messenger. "Nope. No. NO!" she shouted, with a sweeping motion of her hands, shooing me away like flies off potato salad. "What IS THIS?!" she demanded to know, eyes suspiciously fixed on the anthrax diaper. I told the woman the envelope contained words of encouragement that were written with just this kind of occasion in mind. "Well I don't need it," she protested, "my life is just FINE!" With that, she placed the note on the window ledge of the cart corral and gingerly backed away, lest it spontaneously combust into a toxic cloud of bio-hazardous dust. She must have had a an instant change of heart because she pivoted back and asked, with a heavy dose of side-eye, "Is this some kind of religious thing? Because I am NOT interested in THAT!" "No," I replied, "it's just a little poem I wrote. I thought it might brighten your day. But there is no obligation to accept it." With an air of annoyance, she snatched the note off the sill and escorted her groceries to the car. I"m quite certain the unopened envelope immediately took up residence next to the empty latte cups and wadded grocery lists in the parking lot rubbish bin. I walked away flummoxed. Despite numerous attempts to forget about the incident, I kept ruminating about it. Despite its spectacular awkwardness, the exchange felt oddly meaningful. Perhaps there was something to learn here. After giving it some thought, I realized what I heard in that woman's voice was desperation. Desperation is fear that joins forces with hopelessness, self-doubt, and loneliness. It is an occasional part of any well-lived life. Most of us long to be noticed. To be loved. To be accepted. These longings are most pronounced when we are desperate, yet we are often so ashamed of our vulnerability, we come undone when it is acknowledged by another. We push love away, either by gripping it too tightly (lest it disappear) or by lashing out to throw others off its scent. We cannot be any kinder to anyone than we are to ourselves when we are desperate. The stranger in the grocery store likely responded to me the same way she responds to herself when she is vulnerable--the same way any one of us under the same circumstances might have responded. Desperation can make a powerful argument for urgency: we must make that phone call, take that drink, offer ourselves to that unworthy recipient, or tell that strange lady in the grocery store to bugger off now! Alas, when we are desperate, the best option is to stay put, do nothing, breathe, and let the feeling run its course. Like all moments, desperate moments are designed to pass. It's just hard to remember this when desperate fear wants to take the wheel. When desperation arrives on the scene, shame soon follows. The voice of shame tries to convince us we are weak, pathetic, or unlovable. Shame tells lies; don't believe them. Desperation is not pathetic. It is the cosmic backhoe that exposes us to the rawest, most honest parts of ourselves. There is beauty in this honesty. Even though we may believe we are undeserving of love when we are desperate, this is the time we most need it. Sometimes the love we crave can come from someone else. More often, however, we must reach inward to find it. Your house is one with many rooms. Even when it is barricaded by desperation, the room of self-love still exists somewhere deep inside of you. Trust that it is there. Take a blind leap of faith that you will find. You will! Dr. Jill Gross is a licensed psychologist, therapist, and counselor. She offers grief therapy, divorce support, and other counseling services in the Phinney Greenwood area of Seattle, WA. Feeling desperate? Schedule a free consultation to find out how therapy or counseling can help you!
People often seek therapy to help mitigate fear or discomfort. No wonder. Being on the back end of the life spiral is not much fun. However, did you know that pain and discomfort are precursors to growth? Let's explore this together.
Each of us was born with an instinctive drive to seek pleasure and avoid pain--both real or imagined. As cave dwellers, the latter kept us from getting eaten by predators whilst out foraging for bison and berries. So let's be grateful for that! Times eventually changed and so did our brains. However, the part of the brain that is responsible for logic and reasoning (frontal cortex) is located nowhere near the part where primal fear occurs, (amygdala). Thus, many of us today struggle to accurately interpret fear. Sometimes fear is meant to notify us of imminent danger. However, it is more common to experience fear in the absence of a true threat. Fear in the absence of danger is called "anxiety." Anxiety would have us believe there is a tiger in the grass when, really, there is no tiger. Because fear can be quite convincing, many of us choose to mitigate it with avoidance, even when the feared stimulus is (somewhat) neutral, like dogs, conflict, bridges, public speaking, or peanut butter getting stuck to the roof of your mouth (yes, that really is a phobia). The imagined equation looks like this: fear + avoidance = relief. However, what most of us don't know is that avoidance actually increases the likelihood that we will experience more fear the next time we encounter the feared stimulus. And what coping strategy are we most likely to use to handle this fear? You guessed it: avoidance! So, the real equation looks more like this: fear + avoidance = self-doubt + more fear + future avoidance. This is not how most of us want our lives to add up! I once observed an interaction between a mother and her teenaged son, the latter of whom struggled with social anxiety (i.e., an excessive fear of being judged, scrutinized, or criticized in social situations). The son decided he wanted pizza for dinner and, when it came time to call in the order, the mother automatically assumed she was the best candidate for the job. When I asked why her son couldn't order his own pizza, she was gobsmacked. "He has anxiety!" she exclaimed. As if I was the one with problem for asking. The loving mother could not see how this kind of "protection" deprived her son of the option to know his own strength by challenging his fear. The taproot of all anxiety is the fear of temporary discomfort. For example, if the boy would have phoned in his own order, the worst case scenario was that he would have felt awkward or uncomfortable for a little while. Discomfort, like any other transitory emotional state, is felt and then released. No one has ever died of discomfort. But many have regretting not having fully lived! Avoiding what we fear is a way of whispering"I can't do it!" into our unconscious minds. This is a self-fulfilling prophecy. The more we allow fear to drive our decisions, the smaller our worlds become. The next time you feel gripped by anxiety, try this: 1. Name your fear. Say out loud exactly what you are afraid of. Sometimes we can deflate fear just by hearing it spoken aloud in our own words. 2. Ask yourself: "What might happen if I do ___?" Ask yourself what the consequences would be if you challenged your fear. If the answer is anything that resembles, "I will feel awkward, uncomfortable, look stupid, etc." tell yourself this: "From now on, I choose to live in the light. I am reclaiming strength and joy in my life." 3. Ask yourself: "What might happen if I don't do ___?" What opportunity for growth would you be missing if you chose to avoid this fear? Remember, the temporary relief afforded by avoidance is a prequel to more fear and self-doubt. You deserve better! 4. Go for it! Your confidence is hiding, just beyond your fear of discomfort. Doing what you fear is the only way to access it. Why deprive yourself of feeling capable? (Hint: there is no good answer to this question.) 5. Pay attention to your feelings. As you live by this new creed, pay attention to how you feel. It is okay if things do not turn out perfectly every time. Perfect is the enemy of the good enough. The most important thing is that you tried. So keep trying! Remember that courage is not the absence of fear--it is what happens when we feel afraid and do it anyway. Each step away from fear is a step toward confidence. You are creating the life you deserve by showing yourself that YOU are stronger than fear! Not sure you want to try this alone? Email me to find out how you can kick fear to the curb! Dr. Jill Gross is a licensed psychologist, therapist, and counselor. She offers grief therapy, divorce support, and other counseling services in the Phinney Greenwood area of Seattle, WA. Schedule a free consultation to find out how therapy or counseling can help you get from fearful to fierce!
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Things are amiss in the neighborhood these days. The thirty-something hoodied hipsters, intently glued to their phones while awaiting the Microsoft Connector, have suddenly been joined by a legion of 9 to 49-year-olds, strolling around with their nose planted in the edutainment garden's newest flower: Pokemon GO. Perhaps you've seen them skittering about your neighborhood--huddled in groups over a singular LED display--waiting to capture and tame their digital prey.
After the four thousandth Pokemon GO sighting last week, I started wondering about the precise moment when an unknown phenomenon becomes a ubiquitous pass time. And, individually speaking, the location of the threshold between thought and action. What makes any of us decide to change? As a therapist, I frequently consult with people who are troubled by persistent, unwanted patterns of thought or behavior that seem to have taken up permanent residence in their lives and psyches. By the time most clients schedule the first appointment, these well-worn consistencies have become a source of considerable discomfort. What's more, most of the people I've had the privilege to know are convinced their suffering is the result some kind of personal failure: "If I was just more of this or less of that, I wouldn't feel this stuck." This could not be more untrue. As a newly-minted psychologist, I often sat with people, hour after hour, unknowingly colluding with them to either take or give away something that they were neither ready to discover nor relinquish. This was not successful at advancing therapy because it did little to enhance my relationship with the individuals who were choosing their symptoms to begin with. By not honoring the distinct purpose of anyone's chosen coping strategies, we undermine their wisdom. What we most often identify as a problem is actually a misguided solution. For example, an alcoholic's problem is not excessive drinking. The real issue is his or her belief that alcohol is needed to escape emotions that would otherwise prove too scary or dangerous to feel. Only when what is to be gained by healing outweighs the fear of encountering what has previously been considered too threatening, will the afflicted choose to relinquish any vice. The repetition of any destructive pattern is life's way of inviting us to encounter an important truth about ourselves. We feel stuck when we are not yet ready to learn what pain has to teach us. Pain is a highly effective attention-getter. For most of us, it is when discomfort can no longer be ignored that we are compelled to do something to help ourselves. So we must lean into it. We change when the desire for truth is greater than our need to avoid it. Though this truth is often difficult to acknowledge, the lies we must tell ourselves in order to perpetuate our undoing are far more arduous. We cannot learn from what we do not first acknowledge and then accept. Acceptance asks that we not judge ourselves for what we are doing but, instead, scooch a little closer to the innocent child inside who is struggling to trust that we are already okay; that we alone are enough. Readiness to change cannot be rushed or forced. But the good news is that life will continue to invite us to carefully attend to our unfinished business, to speak our truth, to heal. As we hear and incorporate pain's message, whatever was causing us to feel stuck gently moves aside. The first step toward the light begets a second, a third, and so on until, one day, we look over our shoulders and notice how far removed unwanted habits have become. Sometimes we must travel a path of darkness in order to make our way toward the light. So, the next time you feel stuck, ask yourself how what you perceive as your enemy could actually be a friend in disguise. Perhaps the immovable obstacle in your path is really a paving stone to freedom! If your best efforts have not helped you get "unstuck," perhaps it's time for a little help. Click here to ask me if psychotherapy is right for you.
Dr. Jill Gross is a licensed psychologist, dating coach, and writer. She offers dating consultation and counseling services in Seattle, WA.
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While perusing Netflix a few nights ago, I stumbled across an indie film entitled, "The Queen of Versailles." Weighing in at 1 hr and 40 minutes, this 2012 award-winning documentary really packed a punch.
The film depicts (then) 70-year-old billionaire David Siegel, the Founder and CEO of a large time share empire, and his 42-year-old-former-Mrs.-Florida-wife, Jackie. Together, with their fleet of children, pets, drivers, housekeepers, and nannies, the couple endeavors to build the country's largest residential dwelling. Modeled after its namesake, the 90,000- square-foot home (pictured below), boasts its own bowling alley, several indoor swimming pools, ten kitchens, multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, and even a 5000-square-foot closet.
the lavish parties, private jets, private schools, etc.--came to a screeching halt. Construction on Versailles ceased and the family's flagship home sailed into foreclosure.
A few years after the film debuted, the economy recovered. Siegel was able to salvage the remnants of both his business and his mansion (Versailles is reportedly due to be completed this year). He could not, however, save his 18-year-old daughter, Victoria, who succumbed to a heroin overdose in her parents' home on June 6, 2015. The film was popular, not only because it offered us a peek into the lives of the very wealthy (about which many are naturally curious), but because it examines why, swathed in abundance, so many of us are compelled to seek more. People tend to assume they should feel happy most or all of the time. So, when we experience normal dark emotions, like boredom, sadness, shame, longing, or loneliness, we believe them to be an indication of our deficiency. Into the void we shovel substances, work, people, money, sex, material objects, etc. hoping they will provide us relief. We may even feel better for a little while. But novelty's "high" eventually wears off and, when it does, we seek to recapture it with bigger, better, and more. The wise part of us knows that seeking validation in external things is a fool's errand. But that doesn't stop us from trying. Many of us would rather chew off our arms than sit, even for a moment, with boredom, sadness, shame, longing, or loneliness. People often consult me because they are plagued by too much of something: depression, food consumption, substance abuse, work, etc. What they are often surprised to find is that overindulgence in one area is a signpost for perceived scarcity in another. For example, depression is not the result of too much sadness, it is what happens when we do not trust ourselves to fully experience sadness (without allowing it to consume our lives). The harder we work to suppress dark emotions, the more prominent they become. Filling the void with external things only reinforces that there is something to escape. We all posses a void, the size and shape of which is contingent upon our life experiences. Seeing the void for what it is--a bout of temporary dark feelings--tips us gently toward the light. If you are currently grappling with the void, here are four things to remember: 1. Beauty: In dark times, it is easy to forget that beauty exists. But it does. Everywhere. Need a reminder? Go outside and find something that occurs in the natural world. Study it closely. Take it in with as many senses as you can. You'll be amazed. 2. Gratitude: Make a daily list of at least three things for which you are grateful. The simpler, the better. It sounds corny but it really helps. Why? Think of Gratitude and Joy as your two favorite aunties who live in a duplex with an adjoining door. When you visit one, it is highly likely you will run into the other. Gratitude reminds us we are capable of joy. 3. Worthiness: Though we may feel least deserving of love in our lowest moments, it is then we most need it. We all possess a groundswell of love inside of us. You may not recognize yours right now, but it's there. You can--you will--access it. It's okay if you don't know how to do this. According to Melody Beatty, "H.O.W." stands for "Honesty, Openness, and the Willingness to try." With these three things on board, you're all set. The rest will figure itself out. 4. Acceptance: Try to accept that you will never find satisfaction in bigger, better, or more because they do not address the source of your hunger. Most of us simply long to know that we are okay. We are always okay, in the absence of external validation, even when we don't feel okay. I am often asked by people how long they will be in pain. Typically, my answer is "as long as." We cannot schedule an end date for our feelings. We can simply set a conscious intention to love ourselves through them. The void may never fully go away. This not an indication of deficiency; it is a byproduct of living. We are all doing our best to manage the void as it comes. Replacing the quest for bigger, better, or more with our own patience and love, over time, helps it diminish. If managing the void on your own is no longer working, it could be time to email me for a free consultation. Life can get pretty tough--you don't have to do it alone!
Dr. Jill Gross is a licensed psychologist, dating coach, and writer. She offers dating consultation and counseling services in Seattle, WA.
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Ever since my first child started kindergarten nine years ago, I have dreaded the end of each school year. It starts in mid-April with a pinch of maudlin, a dash of preoccupation with the future, and, much to my children's chagrin, a rampant compulsion to take a ridiculous amount of pictures. The whole process ends in June with full-on weeping at inopportune moments and, of course, more pictures.
This time of year is a sentimental stew of sadness, hope, trepidation, and excitement. Not to mention exhaustion. Every year I know it's coming. Every year it catches me off-guard. Though the early morning awakenings, hurried breakfasts, haphazardly assembled lunches, and mountains of homework take their toll on our sanity, they are also indicators that, each day for seven hours, my children have somewhere to be and something to do (that I did not have to plan for them). I also know that, at 3:00 PM, they will saunter through the door in search of a sympathetic ear in which to pour the news of the day. And snacks. I secretly take comfort in the routine of the school year because, on some level, it sweeps from my consciousness the awareness that time is passing and everything is temporary--even children. Though I knew this from the very beginning, intellectual knowing and experiential knowing are entirely different things. The latter always takes my breath away. Here are four things you may be noticing this time of year: 1. It goes fast. Prior to becoming a parent, I thought this was just mindless cocktail drivel. Once I had children, Monday became Friday. Friday became Christmas. Christmas became Spring Break. Spring Break became Summer. Like cartoon calendar pages, the weeks and months continue to fall away into the wind, one right after the other, faster and faster, until, one day, your baby appears before you in a cap and gown. It is as if we are all aging in dog years. The little boys and girls with whom my daughter went to kindergarten, just last week, must have slipped into some kind of hormonal time machine. The ones I don't see very often, with their deep voices, towering heights, and pimples, are no longer recognizable. This must be why, when I do see them, like a good little old person, I am compelled to blather on about how much they've grown. Because teenagers really do love that. Except they don't. But I still do it anyway. Impulse control is the first thing to go, apparently. 2. Social media makes you feel old. News feeds, once peppered with birth announcements and photos of sweet, sudsy bathtub babies have been overtaken by graduation announcements, prom selfies, and college acceptance letters. Wait a second. Didn't we just wean those babies, like, yesterday? 3. You may feel crazy (but you are not crazy). Watching children grow stirs so many mixed emotions. With each developmental milestone, we must let go of what is no longer needed so that we may encounter what is ahead. Yet there is an inexplicable desire to hold tightly with one hand what we are attempting to release with the other. It is normal and sometimes necessary to experience a mixed bag of feelings as we loosen our grip. This does not make us crazy; it makes us human. 4. Guilt and regret come with the territory. You may be beating yourself up for the soccer game(s) missed, the field trips you didn't chaperone, the Halloween costumes you didn't sew. Guilt comes from a sense of wrongdoing and regret is our mind's way of trying to convince us we knew better when we really did not. Fortunately, our relationships with our children consist of so much more than the incidents about which we feel guilty or regretful which, I assure you, are probably not really all that bad. We all did and are doing our best. And this is enough. Afford yourself the same grace you would afford others. As parents, we are meant to put ourselves out of a job, yet nothing prepares us for the bittersweetness of witnessing a job well done. As this school year draws to a close, remember that your emotions are merely a sign that something important is happening. Take a moment to grieve for what is lost, lean into what is coming, and, perhaps most importantly, take lots of pictures. Dr. Jill Gross is a licensed psychologist, dating coach, and writer. She offers dating consultation and counseling services in Seattle, WA.
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A friend and I were recently chatting about our upcoming Mother's Day plans. The conversation started simply enough but, by its end, we were both a bit misty. My friend lost her beloved mother to cancer several years ago, so Mother's Day usually ends up feeling more like a cosmic hip check than a reason to celebrate. The relationship between my mother and me is somewhat complicated, so finding an appropriate sentiment for the day is a bit challenging. I suspect how each of us feels about Mother's Day is as unique as the bond we each share (or shared) with our mothers. Here are four common reasons why, for some, Mother's Day can be difficult: 1. Our mothers are deceased. For those whose mothers have left this world, the week preceding Mother's Day is riddled with dread. When the day arrives, it is to be tolerated, not celebrated. Each social media homage we witness feels like a pinprick to our hearts. We experience a visceral yearning to bring Mom back, to smell her, to hear her voice again, to feel her loving embrace. If the relationship was troubled before she died, there is also regret for what was done and for what cannot be undone. The day is inextricably linked to loss. 2. Our mothers are absent. Few words can describe the grief associated with mourning a parent who is alive but, due to disease (e.g., Alzheimer's), mental illness, addiction, or abuse, is unavailable. Even when emotional cut-off is in our best interest, things never feel quite resolved and Mother's Day stirs the sediment of unfinished business. 3. Our mothers cannot sustain emotional intimacy. Year after year, we emerge empty-handed from the greeting card isle. Clearly the Hallmark copywriters did not know our mothers. The relationship with Mom is neither good nor bad; it is just not there. Thus, Mother's Day wages an internal battle between what we wish we could feel and what we genuinely feel for our mothers. 4. Our mothers are hard to please. A young man's mother gifted him two ties. When he arrived on Mother's Day wearing one of them, his mother exclaimed, "What...you didn't like the other one?!?" For those of us with high maintenance moms, Mother's Day signifies a futile quest to please the un-pleasable. If you are struggling this Mother's Day, here are some suggestions to help you survive the day:
Remember that many of us do not have ideal relationships with our mothers, Because you are the only one who knows how you feel about your mother, you are most qualified to decide how or if you choose to celebrate the day. Act with loving authenticity and the rest will sort itself out. Got any tips for surviving Mother's Day? Share them in the comments section below! Dr. Jill Gross is a licensed psychologist, therapist, and counselor. She offers grief therapy, divorce support, and other counseling services in the Phinney Greenwood area of Seattle, WA. If mom issues are a source of pain or stress in your life, schedule a free consultation to see how therapy or counseling can help! As a therapist, I often hear many different versions of, "If my partner/friend/family member would do more of this or less of that, I would be SO MUCH happier." Seems many of us believe the road to contentment is paved with another's intentions. When a loved one's behavior is overtly destructive, would a change likely do everyone some good? Sure. However, when we focus exclusively on someone else's motivations or actions, we forfeit our own power to affect change. A pointed finger merely identifies the person to whom we have relinquished it. Emotionally intense (heated) and/or familiar (repeated) arguments hold the key to identifying and resolving the childhood wounds that obstruct intimacy. The heated and repeated words we speak are usually (a) the words we needed to say at the time the wound was created (but we were too small or vulnerable to speak them), (b) what we most needed to hear from the person or people who initially hurt us, or (c) the words we are speaking about and for ourselves. Each time we notice and respond lovingly to our words in the present moment, we move toward healing the past. Each repetitive argument is life's way of asking us to clear the obstacles that keep us from loving more freely. Partners cannot clear these obstacles for us; we must do it ourselves. I know; I've been there. I once struggled in a relationship with someone who did not know how to respectfully treat others. After months of fruitless pleas for him to change, I realized I was the one who was being disrespectful: of him by expecting he morph into someone he wasn't and of myself for ignoring my own words. It was I who had to change. Over time, I came to appreciate how choosing an unhealthy relationship was a necessary part of learning to respect myself. Had I continued to direct my energy toward someone else's behavior, this lesson would have been missed entirely. The next time you find yourself shouting something you've said more than three times, I encourage you to accept life's invitation. Listen to your words. Love yourself by respecting your own words. Your words are a testament to your strength. Your words will tell you everything you need to know. Your thoughts? Dr. Jill Gross is a licensed psychologist, therapist, and counselor. She offers grief therapy, divorce support, and other counseling services in the Phinney Greenwood area of Seattle, WA. Feeling worn down by your own heated and repeated arguments? Schedule a free consultation to find out what these arguments may be trying to teach YOU! When my children were old enough to understand figurative speech, I conveyed to them two choices: love to ski or find a new mom. I have skied with them since they were old enough to walk. They are now twelve and fourteen.
With each trip to the mountain, I watched their confidence grow. First the bunny hill, then the intermediate slope, always with Mom watching and waiting uphill as they wrangled their way down the mountain. An errant pole here, a lost ski there, a mitten on the lam. And don't get me started with the chaotic delegation of wind and waterproof gear. "Whose ski pants are those? We just got those boots last week--of course they still fit! Where's your ____ (insert ridiculously overpriced, lost Gor-tex item here)?" There were many times it was certainly more labor than love. Often, I thought, "I cannot wait for the day they can do this on their own." Apparently, that day came in February of 2016. As we were gearing up to hit the mountain, I realized there were no tearful cries for help from the backseat. No frustrated pleas for skis to be carried through the parking lot. Just a petulant, "Hurry up, mom! Geez." Then, smooth as butter, they made their way down the hill, patiently waiting as I plodded along behind them. After a morning of shredding the terrain together, the unthinkable happened: the kids asked if they could take the rest of the afternoon to ski by themselves. As in without me. Initially, my chest swelled with pride as they boarded the lift, all smiles and giggles. The two kids who once complained about cold hands and heavy equipment now trusted themselves enough to fly solo. As the summit fog carried their chair from view, the balloon in my chest became a grapefruit in my throat. The day I once longed for had finally arrived yet, instead of jumping for joy, I stood, paralyzed, wondering if the full-on ugly cry would be visible through my UV-reflective ski goggles. Today, the hill; tomorrow, college. It was a little bit heartbreaking. Most of us associate grief with tangible loss: the death of a pet or loved one, the ending of a relationship with something, someone, or someplace. But what of life's subtle losses? Any well-adjusted parent knows it's right to foster independence, yet nothing can prepare us for the cosmic sucker punch of its sudden emergence. We rejoice when they walk, talk, and feed themselves, but do we take time to grieve the last freely given hug, packed lunch, or purchased Lego set? With each of life's milestones, it is important to celebrate what is gained, but also to mourn what is lost. Making space for both joy and sorrow helps pave the way for gratitude. A grateful heart is an open heart. Later that day, from the lift, I caught a glimpse of my kids. From above, I witnessed ecstatic hoots and Cheshire grins as they effortlessly zoomed through trees and over moguls. Seeing their confident faces helped assuage my fear and sadness. "They've got this," I thought, "and so do you." Dr. Jill Gross is a licensed psychologist, therapist, and counselor. She offers grief therapy, divorce support, and other counseling services in the Phinney Greenwood area of Seattle, WA. Feeling sad about the changes in your life? Schedule a free consultation to find out how therapy or counseling can help.
Rebuilding After Loss In Parts One and Two of this series, we examined the primary reasons most of us choose to date in the immediate aftermath of loss and what to expect from dating within the first year of separation. Today, we will focus on the importance of creating a solid life, independent of relationship status.
Stable people attract stable people. When we are deeply rooted in own lives, we are better prepared to endure the fickle winds of the dating scene. With this in mind, here are some reminders and tips to consider:
Often, I am asked by the acutely grieving when the whole ordeal will be over. Grief unfolds on its own timeline and healing is retrospective. Often we must consider where we have been to fully appreciate how far we have come. Fortunately, it is not necessary to know how long something will last to keep choosing the next best step. Like a fawn on wobbly legs, we will stumble; this is normal. Each time we get back up again, we prove we are stronger than our pain. Once we have (mostly) healed, the intensity of transitional love will start to lose its appeal. The day will come when we are no longer able to imagine being with the very person we once thought we couldn't live without. It is then we are truly ready for lasting connection. In the meantime, remember we are all doing our best to get where we are going. Be patient, kind, and honest with yourself as you work to transform your old life shape into a newer, stronger one! If you have any questions about what you have encountered in this three-part series, feel free to ask them in the comments section below. Or, if you prefer to have your questions answered in a more private forum, click here! Dr. Jill Gross is a licensed psychologist, therapist, and counselor. She offers grief therapy, divorce support, and other counseling services in the Phinney Greenwood area of Seattle, WA. Feeling lost after divorce? Schedule a free consultation to find out how therapy or counseling can help you get back on track! |
AuthorDr. Jill Gross is a licensed psychologist, grief counselor, and dating coach. Her coaching and therapy practice is located in the Phinney - Greenwood area of North Seattle in Washington. Categories
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