Bitch & Complain

Bitch and complain! This is what I hear most days.

“I can’t-do it!” “My skin is the wrong color!” “No one will give me a chance!” “I don’t have the money!”

Keep bitching and complaining and I ask, “How’s that working for you?”

Keep posting your woe is me story all over Facebook looking for sympathy and again I ask, “How’s that working?”

Sympathy is not what we need. Get off your ass and make things happen. No one ever got ahead from bitching and complaining how bad their life is. No one ever gets ahead by bitching and complaining. Frankly, no one wants to hear it.

So stop bitching and complaining and make something happen! If you need help, ask.

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Dogs Love to Play

I turned 54 recently and my dog Jack, 14; that translates to 72 in human years. I am grateful we’ve had the last 14-years to spend together. He has brought an immense amount of joy to my life.

20170729_200806We are both growing older. Jack spends the majority of his time sleeping on the couch, rising and finding a different spot to sleep. We still go for walks but they have become briefer. Instead of inspecting the neighborhood and everything, and I mean everything in it; we cross the street where he does his business and returns home. Gone are the days where he would sit outside with me while I read or completed therapy notes on the laptop. He does remain excited about the “walk around the house” Sunday morning when we retrieve the morning paper.

It is a sad thought that at some point he will no longer greet me at the door with his nub tail wagging but we will all reach that point in our lives. Death is one thing which we will all encounter. What we are unaware of the when.

I have learned so much from Jack. He has been an amazing teacher. Like so many moments which take place every day, there are those pearls of wisdom to be gleaned from the sea of life. Too many of us choose not to take the opportunity to see them as lessons.

Jack has taught me and then reminded me of the importance of “taking it easy” and gratitude for the things which I have

Life has a tendency to slow down as we get older. The things which we once saw as being on the list of “need to do” are often relegated to “maybe.” We begin to review our priorities seeing what is truly important and what no longer matters or matters as much. As a therapist, I feel sad for the individuals I see on a  regular basis both in my practice and simply traveling through life who don’t take the opportunity to slow down and reflect. We use this excuse “I don’t have any time” too much. We’re all busy but are we actually accomplishing anything or are we just busy?

One of the greatest gifts we have received in life is time and since we don’t ever know what our expiration date is, it behooves us to take every day and the see the beauty which it beholds. This morning as I was making coffee and getting ready to leave for work, my wife in the shower and my daughter had left already, I heard my grandson say, “Play with me Popi.” He was sitting at his little table and chair playing with his play-doh. I poured my coffee into a thermos and took a seat next to him playing make-believe with his play-doh. This ranks as high for me as sitting outside the other night watching the Notre Dame game with my son while enjoying a cigar.

Make sure you make time for those things in your life which are truly important. You’ll regret it if you don’t and no one likes regrets. Oh yeah, don’t blame others for the time you feel you don’t have and the time you don’t take for yourself.

 

Don’t be afraid to be different!

As a therapist, I have found myself becoming increasingly frustrated with where this profession, the profession which I love is headed.

I was previously “forced” to be a member of the National Association of Social Workers (NASW) in order to get my liability insurance renewed. This was rescinded the following year I am hoping as a result of what I can only imagine are the numerous complaints which this organization has received. The last time I was a member of this organization was sometime in the early 90’s. I didn’t know what they did for social workers then and I still don’t know what they do for social workers. I remain on an email list and smile when I read the headings of the content. The majority of the content starts with “What social workers should think about…..” No thank you. I am very capable of thinking on my own and no I am not interested in who was identified as “Social Worker of the Year.”

I was raised to believe as Steve Jobs had said: “Think Different.” I love my approach to change as do my clients. It works. No fancy bullshit just real, honest feedback.

I was a fan of Charles Bukowski long before it was “cool.” I love Quentin Tarantino movies and other artists who are willing to risk thinking outside the box.

These people are/were game changers. They wouldn’t think twice about coloring outside the lines and breaking the rules.

Ya want to get better? Break the rules!

Time

I greet you with hands clasped together in gratitude for being given another opportunity to grace this earth. For being able to take another breath and enjoy the things in my life which brings a smile to my face. For my eyes and being allowed to see my beautiful wife, children and grandchildren and whatever else graces my view throughout the day.

I have spent quite a bit of time in thought thinking about how I spent this past Sunday. I was on call for Crisis Services. Despite this and my usual Pavlovian response as I nervously wait for my phone to ring; I decided to relax and spend the day the way I wanted to spend it. When I’m on-call I make no concrete plans because a call can come in at any time. As I grow older I see less and less value in filling each day with concrete plans. There are things which need to be done, tasks which need to be completed. Those will get done for there is little which needs to get done at that moment. I found the world will not cease turning if something is left undone.

Jack and I rose and we went for our usual Sunday morning walk. Before returning to the inside of the house, we perched ourselves on the front porch and based in the solitude of the morning. There is, for me no other time of day which brings so much joy. The morning paper was where it is normally tossed by the delivery read and the CBS Sunday Morning News was watched. There remained two cups of coffee in my thermos. I chose to take those outside and sit. To simply sit.

The morning paper was where it is normally tossed by the delivery person. It sat protected in its orange cocoon protecting it from the elements which may have otherwise disturbed my ability to read its contents with some modicum of joy. Jack watched as I ground beans for my morning coffee. As his eyesight fails at his age of 15-years, his eyes grow cloudy with cataracts, he thinks he is going to be fed again. I allow him to smell the freshly ground beans. he takes a quick sniff and turns his head away in obvious disgust as he realizes this treat is not for him. read and the CBS Sunday Morning News was watched. There remained two cups of coffee in my thermos. I chose to take those outside and sit. To simply sit. I have this new coffee an Instagram friend suggested I try. Don’t tell my friends at Death Wish coffee, but I really enjoy this smooth taste. All of the information if you’d like to find them on the Internet and give them a try is right on the bag.

coffee

For those of us who reside in the year 2017, sitting and doing nothing is difficult. We all know this and many of agree using one of the excuses which make every hair stand on end; “I just don’t have the time!” First of all, this is Bullshit!!!! We have nothing but time. It is all in how we choose to spend the time we have. So, when done correctly, the ability to sit and do nothing productive, is, in fact, a momentous achievement. There are some people who see me doing nothing as defined in their terms because whatever activity in which I am engaging does not fit their definition of productivity. These are the people who would disagree with me. That’s too bad because I find reading, lying in my hammock, playing with my grandson, writing, smoking a cigar and drinking a couple fingers of a good whiskey are being productive.

coffee

In the past, I had struggled with sitting quietly alone. I felt like I need to be in perpetual motion. It seems as though the minute I sit my brain begins to wander. My eyes also wander. I begin to see things around the house which may or may not require my attention. Most certainly those things do not require my attention at that time. My son joined me. We both noted it had taken him 4 hours to clean his car inside and out. It’s not that the car was that dirty, it’s that he stopped several times, sat and we talked.

I have a salve for my spirit. It comes in the form of silence, of solitude. When I am physically able to run, it comes in the solitude which I feel during a run and which accompanies my spirit for some time after the run has concluded. It also comes in the form of reading, journaling and smoking a good cigar. My entire professional life I have found myself chained to a calendar and a clock. Questions abound such as “Do I have enough time to do this or that?” These things have resulted in a perpetual feeling of anxiety; of being on-edge. When I apply the salve, which ever one I have chosen, the grip which anxiety has had on me begins to weaken. The difficulty arises when I do not apply the salve as often as is recommended. When I neglect an application, I feel out of place. My mind wanders and guilt, self-imposed guilt reenters or should I say I allow it to reenter. I regret now not doing more in my work life to disrupt that configuration.

Try it sometime. You might actually become addicted to “not doing anything productive.”

namaste

Fifty-plus

As I write this entry, my arms are outreached in gratitude for what I have seen, experienced and accomplished and for those accomplishments to come.

I sat across from my wife at dinner, I thought for a minute and said, “I like being over 50.” She looked at me and asked me what I meant. This August, the 28th to be precise, I will be exactly four years removed from the age of fifty.

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As I get older, I’m caring less and less about what people think of me. Of course, I still seek approval and validation to a certain extent. I don’t think that will ever go away, especially in this world we live in. I have traveled way too far down this road we call life to think about turning back now. Feeling regret, embarrassment, and anger while wondering if I did or said the right thing causes more stress and more anxiety. there is no time in my life for such time-wasters. I now fill my time with the things which make me happy. the other night I sat outside with my 25-y.o. son who miraculously still wants to spend time with me. We had an amazing conversation about our respective careers, disappointments, and life in general.

As I grow older, I find myself enjoying life more. I find myself having more energy for those things for which I feel a great deal of gratitude and for the beliefs, activities, etc. Which I have identified as “time wasters”, I have removed many of these things from my life. I continue to have little use for drama and chaos and spend a great deal of time

As I have spent some time thinking of this subject I became more interested and developed an interest in what some of the great thinkers have had on this topic. As always, I find myself returning to the journals and writings of thinkers such as Thoreau, Emerson, and Whitman.

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Karl De Schweinitz in his 1924 “Guide to the Art of Living” said, “Living has yet to be generally recognized as one of the arts” and as with any art, mastery at it is only accomplished through hours of deliberate practice.

I found there is a strange thing which happens once we stop giving a fuck. I tell people I’m happy because I don’t give a fuck and they judge me and look down their noses at me. I gave a fuck for a lot of years and it got me tired, stressed, anxious and on medication to help manage the anxiety. I won’t refer to anxiety like so many others by saying “My anxiety” because it’s not mine. I didn’t walk into any store, pick anxiety from the shelf, pay for it and walk out of the store with it. It’s not mine! I don’t want it! I noticed the more I stopped giving a fuck, the more I liked myself; the happier I was. hell, I can’t do anything about 99% of the crap we all make a conscious decision to worry about anyway. So why put the energy into worrying and give it more power than it deserves. If you don’t like the way I live my life, I don’t give a fuck! Go ahead and judge. Let me know how happy that makes you and I’ll let you know how happy I am.

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I am grateful for the guides, the mentors from whom I have had an opportunity to share life experiences and learn new, different ways of doing things. Walt Whitman said, “Life doesn’t give you the people you want, it gives you the people you need: To love you, To hate you, To make you, To break you, and to make you the person you were meant to be.” So many of us become so easily hung up on the belief that Whitman’s quote should read the opposite. Many of us believe we should have the people we want in our lives. What we want does not equate to what we need. In short, it is important to ask ourselves about our life goals and then to ask if we have the resources to attain these goals. My kids, years earlier laughed at the few number of friends which I had. I, on the other hand never had a problem with the small number of people who were lucky enough to make it onto and remain for some time on my friend list. In order to make the cut, you need to make sure you have some value to me. I would also hope I have some value in your life. This is not to say that I use people, but that I do not have time for those people who will seek to thieve energy from me and leave me drained and without a thought in my own head. As Thoreau once said, I wish to live my life deliberately.”

I am thankful for these gifts, for the happiness in my life and for the people who helped me reach this destination.

Namaste

 

I woke with my alarm this morning. Five AM. One of my favorite times of the day. I love and live for the solitude that this time of day brings.

I have been waiting for this day for some time. With it came some fear. I could taste it like bile in the back of my throat. you know that feeling you get when you think you might throw up. I wondered if history would repeat itself. Regardless, I got my ass out of bed and accepted the challenge before me.

running

I also have a healthy level of denial about my age. I’ll be 54 on August 28th. I am thankful that I don’t feel my age and have to be reminded from time to time of my age. The reminder comes in the form of aches and pains from over doing it that I didn’t have at half my age. It’s a good reminder because it keeps from pushing farther than my body is capable and thus avoiding injury. As a result of the injury, I hadn’t run since April 6th. That’s a lie. I hadn’t run since July 15th of 2016. The original pain started the day before yet I pushed through it. Instead of stopping and taking a week off, I pushed through it and returned for more the next day. When I returned home after completing a 10-miler on the 15th, I sat on my porch feeling pretty happy there was no pain. Then I got up and heard a pop in my knee. The pop was followed by pain and a tremendously difficult time even bearing weight let alone walking.

It serves me right. I had been pushing myself through runs. the thought of getting up to run was even painful although this pain being emotional in nature was easier to deny. As time passed the pain also lessened. I thought I was healing and after repeated attempts to return to running even short distances, pain followed.

I sucked it up and scheduled an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. The diagnosis was a torn meniscus. I pushed for surgery because his original treatment plan was unacceptable. I was not going to stop running. I was not ready to stop running. Surgery followed as did my first attempt, foolishly at running within one month.

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One year has passed since I ran any distance with the exception of after my grandson or up a flight of stairs. I ran or rather walk/ran this morning. To my surprise, there was no pain. Even better, the love that I had and had lost had also returned. it feels good to be on the path to recovery.

Namaste

I stood and walked toward my office door. I lingered for a second before gently pressing it closed. I heard the gratifying click signifying it would not open under its own power. I returned to my desk, removed my glasses, placed my head into my hands and vigorously rubbed my forehead. The left side of my head humming with pain. Rubbing my forehead briefly allowed the pain to go away knowing it would not return until I left the office. That time would come but not soon enough.

I sit at my desk and my back remains fixed toward the large windows which adorn my office. I am happy to have windows but on this day, not being able to see the sunshine might have been a better option.

The phone rings and I am made aware my next patient awaits. I stand and walk toward the window and see my Vespa through the window. For a split second I am lost in thought; daydreaming about the ride home which will be the most relaxing part of my day. Before I leave to usher my patient to my office, I call one of our nurses and ask for another “cocktail”, the medication which I know will help this throbbing headache go away and will allow me to hobble through the rest of the day.
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After my patient leaves, I begin to think about this session. I realized I have not consistently done the things which I have asked him to do in his recovery. I open my journal to reveal I have not written in it since June 20th. I felt like I had nothing to say; obviously, that wasn’t the case. My meditation cushion has been obscured from view, lying under a pile of opened but unread magazine and newspaper articles. I reached for one of my fountain pens only to find out the ink has dried from lack of use. The pen needs to be cleaned before it can be re-inked. I sigh and walk to the bathroom to clean the pen. As I am flushing out the old, dried ink; I become mindful of my need to flush out these same thoughts which are keeping me tied down. I have allowed myself to dry up and become unusable.

I re-inked the pen, my favorite; a Visconti Homo Sapiens with a nib which writes unbelievably smoothly. I touched the nib to the absorbent paper of my journal and watch as the ink and the words the ink has become, fill the page. Thoughts and feelings are pouring out of me like a water faucet which has been turned on high. I stop momentarily, in disbelief as I previously thought there was nothing there to come out. The clog has been removed. Thoughts and feelings begin to flow again, unimpeded.

Namaste