How To Listen To Your Aging Parents: What They Really Want From You.

I work with seniors in a therapy group designed to deal with many issues which are appropriate and common to their stage of life, among them, how can I get my adult children to see me for exactly who I am?

If you have aging parents, think about it: Do I really listen to them?

If you're truly listening, you're likely to hear some things you already know, but don't want to accept, like: I'm not 55 any more. I can't move as fast as you think I can. It's too physically taxing to cook the holiday dinners any more--please don't ask me to do it. I miss your father (mother) terribly and I feel lonely much of the time. Getting out of the house is a challenge, especially with all those stairs. I can't hear you as well as I used to. And the list goes on.

The complaint I hear most often, as aging parents open up about their relationships with their adult children is: My children can't face the fact that I'm aging. It seems to be too much for them to handle, so they just ignore it and tell me how great I'm doing. The truth--how I really am--they just won't or can't accept it.

Conventional reasoning suggests a simple reason why you can't accept an aging parent's reality: It threatens, on some level, your own mortality.

Possible? Perhaps. Consider the fact that once your parents die, you--your generation of siblings, cousins, friends and schoolmates--are next in line to go.

I don't mean to be morbid here, just realistic. Again, these are facts that almost everyone knows on some level; but many of us have difficulty actually accepting them. And, by extension, it can be difficult to hear and accept our aging parents' actual decline.

Aging parent? Adult child? I sympathize with you both. As I've often said, old age isn't for sissies.

I truly believe that one gift you can give your aging parents is the gift of acceptance. Hear them when they say, "I can't do that any more, " or  "It's really difficult living alone," or "I'm scared of dying."
What do parents want most from you? Quit trying to fix it. Just listen.

And, ultimately, you know that they're right. It's very, very unlikely that you will be able to "fix" old age. What you  can do is meet your aging mom or dad right where they are. Offer advice when asked. Pay attention to changes in health and mental status. Offer to help them cope. Don't ignore or sidestep their limitations.

For children of aging parents, it can feel like a balancing act between doing nothing and forcing our agenda on a parent "for their own good."  This will be a dance that you do with each other. But, you will not be able to help--a little or alot--until you actually hear and accept your parents for exactly who they are now.

For some families, reaching that level of understanding may be all the "help" the parent will accept. For others that understanding, that we all get old and die, may enable you to actually talk with your parents about life and death, and how to navigate their days to come.

From a professional standpoint, much of healthy family functioning--at any lifestage--starts with listening and acceptance. From a personal standpoint, I know how important it was that, in her last years, my sister and I accept my mother's limitations, along with the natural decline that comes as one passes 70, 80, 90 and beyond. It made it easier to help negotiate her last years with dignity-- honoring her safety, her true wishes and, ultimately, her happiness. And, isn't that, fundamentally, what we want for our loved ones?

Until next time, call your mother. And, thanks for listening.

How're You Gonna Keep Em Down In Paree, Once They've Seen The Farm, Or, The Restorative Effects Of Digging In The Dirt.

It's difficult to pinpoint when it happened. It may have been late last July when our apricots came in. Or, maybe, last August, when our few precious ears of sweet corn matured.  Maybe it's been a culmination of two successful summers of heirloom tomatoes--and more on the way this summer. While I can't nail down a precise date, I am sure it's happened. Somewhere along the way, my partner and I--two erstwhile city boys--have become farmers.

Ok. I exaggerate a bit. "Farmers" is a bit extreme. Maybe, "growers?" "Coaxers of the earth for good things?" Perhaps, "weekend weeders and gopher fighters?"

The truths is, it's been mostly my partner and his continual efforts to convert so-so soil to our own fertile crescent. It's been a labor of (mostly weekend) love and sweat--and occasional swearing, including truckloads of "special" soil, augmented by countless bags of soil enrichers, fertilizers, mulch, specially researched seeds, carefully nurtured seedlings--and the list goes on.

All of the above is the tended with loving--and seemingly unending--care: tilling, watering, dusting with organic pesticides, plugging, flooding and baiting gopher holes. And finally, with the addition of
sonic technology, a modest reduction in gopher trails--symbolic of a possible detente in the war of the roses, et al?

For all these efforts we get beautiful flowers--an abundance from March through November: starting with March daffodils, April tulips, May irises, June roses, July dahlias--and more, right through the last zinnias of November! 

Our table is equally blessed with vegetables. We have had varying degrees of success with carrots, radishes, beets, potatoes, lettuce, corn, zucchini and beans. And, thanks to my partner's inherent knowledge and unending curiosity about plant material, we have had wonderful, gorgeous, juicy--delicious!--tomatoes. Seven varieties, to be exact. Each with its own unique color, texture and flavor. All welcome on our dinner (and lunch and breakfast) plates. All bringing the satisfaction of being able to casually acknowledge, "Oh these. We grew them."

Incredible flavor, and the satisfaction of growing produce with your own two--dirty--hands. I'm not sure which tastes better.  But,  I know that, despite the fact that I refer to our little garden place as "the farm," (which induces groans and eye-rolling from my partner, subtle laughter from others--and I'm perfectly ok with both), the land we tend pays us back with delicious, fresh food.

The not-so-secret fact is, almost anyone--citified or country--can accomplish this on a smaller scale--right at home. All it takes is a sunny patch (window, porch or yard), a bit of soil, some seeds or plant material, and a desire to make it all come together. Yes, it takes some investment of  money and time. And, if all of this leaves you asking, "Why not just get it at the store," then gardening may just not be for you.

But, if the idea of a tomato (or corn, potatoes, zucchini, herbs, etc.) fresh off the vine appeals to some inner part of you, then I urge you to get thee to a garden shop and begin the odyssey. Never grown anything before? Take a chance. Experiment. What's the worst that could happen? Suppose nothing grows? Then, you'll end up back at the produce section or the farmer's market. But, at the very least, you'll have a greater appreciation for where our food comes from, and the efforts made to put food on our tables.

So what does this have to do with therapy? Well, ask any gardener. The answer you're likely to get is: Gardening IS therapy. For me, digging in the dirt is rewarding. Watching the flowers and vegetables grow is elating. And, with summer heading into full swing, the idea of my first, home-grown tomato sandwich? Well, it's almost intoxicating. Ask any tomato fan.

Happy summer. And, thanks for listening.

Spirituality & Psychotherapy: The Story Of An Elephant's Dilemma.

From time to time I attend seminars and workshops, partly because all licensed therapists are required to fulfill a quota of continuing education hours and, partly because I need and want to continue to grow as a therapist. This being said, I was recently intrigued by a talk on the subject, "Psychotherapy and Spirituality."

At first, the two subjects may sound rather disconnected. But, at closer examination, they're connected in some fundamental ways. The speaker at this recent talk made some wonderful points, but what I'd like to convey here is a story that illustrates the journey many of us make at one point or another. It's a journey where the experiences of spirituality and therapy can intersect, with profound results.

The story goes like this (with apologies to those who remember it differently or more completely).

There once was an elephant who thought he was a mosquito.  He tried very hard to behave as mosquito. He attempted to flit and fly, buzz, light on flowers and tree limbs and ponds--all to disastrous results. And, consequently, he was very unhappy.

Yet, he continued to approach his life endeavors as a mosquito, albeit a very unhappy one. Like other mosquitoes, he earnestly wished to have another mosquito as his life partner, and tried dating other mosquitoes, again, with no success.

This was one very unhappy guy.

Time passed and, undeterred,  he continued to pursue his goal to be a happy, successful mosquito.  But with no luck.

Finally, feeling greatly discouraged, the elephant was drawn to do some "spiritual work" in order to "find the true mosquito within."  It didn't happen.  But what did happen, with some spiritual guidance, was that the elephant began to see the truth of who he was--that is, not a mosquito, but an elephant.

Our speaker, also a therapist, asserts that the true healing happens not when you get what you want but, rather, when you discover and can be happy with who you truly are.

So how does this relate to psychotherapy? Pretty well, actually. Our speaker (and many other therapists and academics in the field) believes that the wear and tear of life--the abuse, neglect and emotional distress we encounter--causes us to build a protective armour around ourselves. To survive, we insulate ourselves from our own reality. And this keeps us from knowing who we truly are.

The root work of psychotherapy, many believe, is to help us find our true selves.

The root work of spirituality, for many, is to help us make meaningful contact with ourselves, our place in this universe and our way of being.

I sit daily with individuals and couples who struggle to make sense of their lives, their choices, their present circumstances and their futures.  It is not my job to judge, offer pithy advice or witty discourse. In fact, as our speaker so aptly put it, the successful therapist is a "grownup" who is "quite unspectacular" but constantly present. Resistant to contrivance or cleverness, the therapist's job--my true job--is but to listen and allow my clients to discover where their armour is and, as a result, who they truly are. Sometimes, to their initial dismay but to their eventual relief--and joy--they discover that they are mosquitoes, not elephants.

And, that there is nothing wrong with that. Nothing whatsoever.

Until next time, as always, thanks for listening.

"Please" & "Thank You," Or, Minding Manners Mends Marriages.

Have you ever noticed that we sometimes treat strangers better than we treat family? I've noticed that, often, couples treat me, as their therapist, with much more courtesy than they afford each other. And couples often complain that their spouses doesn't know what each needs from the other in the relationship.

Perhaps, at times, it's all in the way we ask.

It could also be, that in our need to "get" something from our spouse, that we forget to tell him/her how much they mean to us. This leads to feeling taken for granted, resentment and misunderstanding. Not exactly fertile ground for an important request.

Try this instead. First, one of you--it doesn't matter which one--address the other. Face each other and take one another's hands in yours. Speaking slowly and deliberately, look directly into each other's eyes, and one of you will say,

          "One thing that I absolutely and genuinely love about you is ________."

Fill in the blank succinctly--one thing, easily understood, with no additional baggage, such as ...but I wish you were more like that all the time  or ...unfortunately your other habits make me so mad.... Don't undo the good. Just say one thing. And mean it.

The receiver of this complement has a job to do, too: just say "Thank you." And shut up. Don't evaluate, don't feign surprise. Accept what has just been said, and say "Thank you." Nothing more.

Next, reverse roles.

Notice how it feels to hear something positive and genuine from your partner.

Repeat two times.

After this exercise you might find it easier to try asking for something you'd really like from your partner. So try it, gently, this way:

Facing your partner, holding hands, looking into each other's eyes, one asks: "One thing that I would really like from you in our relationship is __________." Again, be succinct. One thing that is understandable, not a litany of needs. Just one thing. And be still.

The receiver has three--and only these--necessary responses:
1. I hear that what you would like from me is ____________.
2. I hear that this is really important to you.
3. I will try my best.

And nothing more.  You have given your partner three important gifts: the gift of hearing him/her accurately, the gift of understanding the importance of the request, and the gift of a promise to try.

Now, reverse roles.

It's probably best to make only one or two requests of one another to start.  Then the work starts of being mindful throughout the week of the request you've made and responded to. For this to work, you do have to try to meet the request. This being said, you, the requester, need to acknowledge your partner's efforts as opposed to pointing out failed attempts.  It takes being mindful of your goals: to hear each other accurately,  to honor the importance of what you partner needs, and to try to give each other what you've asked for.

There is no magic to this exercise. Like all attempts to improve communication, success is directly related to your willingness to try to improve your own behavior. As I've said in previous posts, you can only be successful when you work to understand each other, not to "win" over each other.

Does this exercise work? Yes. Sometimes. When a couple is really ready to give up winning and start understanding.

If you'd like, please give it a try. And, as always, thank you for listening.

Your AARP Card Is In The Mail, Or, Getting Older Takes Attitude.

Many of us of a certain age (50+) have had the pleasure of the cheery notification from AARP (The American Association of Retired Persons), which reads something like, "Congratulations! You are eligible for the many benefits of AARP! Don't wait! Reply today for these exciting membership benefits...." And it goes on to tell you the many--and actually very beneficial--reasons to join the ranks of your cohort of 50+ year-olds.

It also says You are now officially an old fart.

I have compared notes with others who have received this notice. The reactions varied from "Who cares?" to "It felt like my draft notice."  All kidding aside, this is, in my opinion, a great organization. If for no other reason that its AARP prescription discount actually saved my mother significant dollars on her medications in her later years.

The operative words here are "mother" and "later years." Not me. Not at my age.

I have to say that I have nothing against aging or getting older. I have no illusions about my age, my looks or my stage of life. I've earned my laugh lines. I exercise to stay in reasonable shape, but my knees remind me, almost daily that, despite the fact that they've each survived trauma,  and a major surgery , they have continued to serve me faithfully for more than 21,000 days--and they are tired. And yet, I soldier on.

I have good friends and family who are pushing into their 60s and 70s with varying degrees of acceptance and grace. Some claim to "embrace" their age; others grit their teeth and endure it; still others seems to go blithely on without so much as a blip. They look wonderful, eat everything they want, sleep great, are as active as they care to be and, for the most part, exude contentment.

My mother was like that. All the way up to age 92, when she died.

So, how do they do it, those contented acceptors and doers of the improbable? How do they flourish in old age?

One word seems to surface again and again, in both my personal and professional observations of thriving older people: attitude.

A positive, accepting, realistic attitude about old age is about the only thing they have in common. Other than this, they have varying degrees of health, independence, social support and financial security. It seems, from what I can gather both professionally and anecdotally, that attitude is the key. Not a Pollyanna attitude, but one that says, without reservation, Yes I am (fill in the appropriate age--truthfully) and I'm basically ok with that. I recognize my limitations, but I also embrace my remaining abilities. I am grateful for what is, not despondent over what isn't.

Easy. No. Not for one minute would I pretend that those flourishing in old age have come by their stellar attitudes with ease. It has take them some combination of work: self-examination, self-reflection,  acceptance of what is and the ability to ask for help. None of these are easy, and yet, the payoff can be big.

So, AARP, bring it on. While I have resisted joining for the past 8 years, who knows? You may get me sooner than I might like, but later then you have invited me.  I really don't have anything against you or getting older. It will just take me some time to adjust to the idea that, like everyone else, if I'm lucky, I will get old.

Until next time, thanks for listening.

Agreeing To Disagree, Or "To Love, Honor and Agree?"

It never fails to amaze me.  Couples work is often the most challenging--and interesting--work I do. Inevitably, the couple brings conflict into the room. Something, done or undone, said or unsaid, has caused a breech in the relationship. Correction: the breech is usually the result of a long series of action or inaction which has not been addressed for some time. By the time some couples seek the help of a therapist, things are often ready to blow.

It can go like this in session:
He: She just doesn't get it! If the washing machine is too full, nothing gets clean.
She: I follow the directions on the machine: "Load to fill line."
He: Everyone knows you're never supposed to fill the machine that full.
She: Everyone? Who is everyone?
He: What part of this don't you understand?

Does any of this sound vaguely familiar?  In a conversation like the one above, the real issue isn't about how clean the clothes get. It's about a variety of underlying voices we carry with us from our collective experience: "Being right is very important. If you're wrong, you're bad." Or, "You need to take responsibility for everything. If you don't do it personally, it might not be done the right way." Or, even, "No one is going to push me around or tell me how to do things. I had enough of that when I was a child and I'm not a child anymore."  And so the voices go.

These "voices" usually aren't as clear or defined as I've outlined above.  But, if you subscribe to the idea that we are the sum of all our experiences, chances are, like it or not, you got messages in your life that made an impact, and helped inform how you respond in a variety of situations.

Challenging those voices, those embedded messages, is part of the work of therapy.

Another concept therapy can bring into the room, radical to some, is the idea that both of you are right.

Think about the conflict that might fall away if we were to entertain that idea in our daily lives, especially with our loved ones. You are absolutely, completely right. And...I am absolutely and completely right.

Absurd? Well, not according to couples who hold their ground--and their entrenched beliefs--on disagreements over child-rearing, sex, money, religion, jobs, friendships...well, you get the idea.

Where conflict melts away is when we give each other permission to differ. Put another way: we agree to disagree, not to win.

Granted, on some issues, you'll need to find some common ground. But, compromise is built on the premise of actually conceding territory for the common good. Your common good.

The idea of not agreeing is foreign to some of us.  But, if you can let go of the idea of winning, it really changes the game. If there's no need to win, then there is room for two opposing ideas to co-exist, sometimes quite comfortably.

Of all the weddings and commitment ceremonies I've attended, not one couple has ever promised to "love, honor and agree."  Nor, in my opinion, should they have to.

Doubtful? Give it a try. You might be surprised to find that "winning" is highly overrated. And loving each other by agreeing to disagree? Well, being loved, I find, is always a win.

Until next time, thanks for listening.

Letting Go, or The Power of A "Garage Sale Of The Mind."

This weekend my partner and I and a few of our neighbors are having a garage sale. Whenever I hear those words, "garage sale," my mind immediately goes to the sister phrase, "trash and treasure."
And, for me, it's an appropriate descriptor of a powerful emotional component of such a sale: Even though, intellectually, I know alot of this stuff is, essentially, of no real value to me any more, I did, at one time, treasure it--or at least the memories associated with it.

And there's the rub: Parting with the "stuff" signifies a parting with the memories--the emotional "stuff."

Clinically, this parting could be classified as "acceptance." In simpler terms, it can signify "letting go."

Now I realize that some of the "treasures" in tomorrow's sale meet all--and every--qualification for "trash." Or, perhaps, more kindly, they are the ghosts of questionable choices, lapses in retail judgement; or more radically, What the hell was I thinking when I bought this? In this category falls the pine-bark covered photo album (never used), the "extra" bargain bath mat (also never used), a handful of instructional books (mostly only thumbed-through) and a myriad of wicker baskets, seasonal trinkets and bric-a-brac that were idolized for an instant in the checkout line, and then languished in a closet or cupboard for the rest of their questionably "useful life."

However, there also exist some items, which, while not exactly "treasures," do have meaning, context, and even a brief--or even extended--role in a few acts of our life-play.  For instance, now-emptied picture frames which held photos of once-dear friends, who, through time, distance and--God forbid--age, faded from dear to distant to who was that and why did I save that photo?  

Then, there are the in-between items which, at first (and at the pleading of my partner) go, reluctantly into the "sell" pile; and then, upon reflection, back into the "keep" pile.  Not surprisingly, these in-between items are harder to part with. While here and now, in 2013, these items serve no rational purpose, they still tug at an emotional part of me. They will get a temporary stay today.

Others, however, I recognize from previous forays into boxes marked "save," from previous garage sales. Over time, for reasons I don't completely understand, those items, so thoroughly embedded in my emotional brain, no longer have that hold on me this go-round. With little hesitation or fanfare, they graduate to the "sell" pile with not so much as a sigh.

It's often same with emotional ties. Some call it "emotional baggage." It goes by other names, too: "grudge," "crush," "jealousy," "regret," even, "insult."  It usually doesn't take too much digging to identify our own emotional baggage. What takes more effort is, metaphorically, clearing it out of our psyche, putting it on the curb of our memory, and letting it go.

While there are few "buyers" for our emotional baggage, it's much like the physical "stuff" of our actual garage sales. It occupies space--space that we might need or want to devote to our current lives and loves. Space that might give us "room," or lighten up our environs.

And, so, when we're ready, like the dusty, hot-air popcorn popper we haven't used or seen for, possibly  years, we let it go. We say goodbye to a useless grudge, set free an ancient hurt, kick to the curb an old anger, and make room for other feelings: Lightness. Gratitude. Peace.

When you're ready, give it a try. Unpack some of your emotional baggage. Take a minute to see how it serves you now. If it still does serve you, even in a way that seems irrational to the rest of the world but makes complete sense to you, then...maybe you'll save it awhile longer. But, when you find it no longer deserves a place in your emotional attic, you may want to simply say goodbye.

Let it go. And set it--and yourself--free.

Until next time, thanks for listening.

The Power of Silence. Or, Risking Authenticity.

I'm sitting in the sun on a warm spring afternoon, on the deck overlooking a recently-greened vineyard. There are the usual background noises: feint bird chirps, a caw of a crow, the very distant hum of cars making their way up the asphalt ribbon of 101 North-South. What makes this all notable, is the literal absence of the city cacophony.

No angry car horns. No city hum. No human chatter.

It is powerful. It is the power of silence. 

And yet, in the company of others, and in the therapy setting, silence can make us, well, a little...uncomfortable. 

Filling the void with voice. In this age of burgeoning communication options--cell phones, voice mail, texts, tweets, Instagrams (and yes, I'm certain I've forgotten others)--the need to be saying something--anything!--seems to be overwhelming us with words and pictures.  

The same seems true in the therapy office, at times.  Early on in my training as a therapist, I was encouraged to use silence as an intervention--a tool--to allow my clients to go deeper into their story.  Almost always, that first foray in to voicelessness was met with fidgeting clients asking, what do you want me to say next?

Of course, it wasn't about what I wanted at all but, more accurately, what comes up when we're actually allowed to simply be in the moment with our thoughts. To not be prompted, replied to, affirmed, judged or otherwise cued by another as to the worthiness of our sentence.  

Buried treasure. It seems that we are often so eager to either garner a response or to offer one, that a thought left hanging in the air is a rarer and rarer thing these days.  A luxury, of sorts. But, given space to breathe and expand, one's thoughts, ideas, stories and true feelings often emerge, like artifacts long buried, only now unearthed.

In the therapeutic conversation it is simple yet, again powerful. And I often marvel at the profound and moving things that clients share, when simply given the room to do so. 

Perhaps that's why silence can be scary at times. Because, in the absence of another person's word, the invitation to continue is implied. And, for some, it's uncharted territory: I didn't hear you comment. What do you think about what I said? Was I right? Do you agree? Do you approve of me? Silence is the green light to go ahead, but without the safety net of another's approval (or even disapproval--at least you know where you stand!).

The gift of not saying a word. In our hectic lives, how often do our friends, family, colleagues, even strangers give us the chance to muse, without comment?  My guess is, not often. So, it's not surprising that, given the gift, we're sometimes unclear about how to proceed. And yet, left to our own discourse, we will almost always find resolution on our own.

Here's an idea: take the leap. Venture a deeper thought. A more novel idea: make room in your conversation with a friend for him or her to keep going. Give them room to muse, think, come to an authentic conclusion. Ok, they might think you're giving them the silent treatment, so use the least intrusive prompt you can: Go on.

You might be surprised with how the conversation unfolds. And if, as I've endorsed before, you are truly listening to understand and not to win or persuade, you are likely to learn a great deal about your friend--and possibly about your friendship.

Until next time, thanks for listening.

Repairing A Broken Relationship Or, The Long Road Home.

Working with couples has been some of the most challenging and satisfying work I have done as a therapist. I say challenging, because couples have often reached a crisis point in their relationship when they decide to seek help. More often than not, by the time we sit together for the first time, the couple has made a multitude of mostly unsuccessful attempts to "fix" each other, which often leaves the couple exasperated. The work is also extremely satisfying in that the couples who are willing to try to find different ways to listen, understand and accept one another can, with time and work, repair seemingly insurmountable rifts in their relationships.

The initial couples session sometimes starts with an enactment of how the couple tries to solve their problems at home. The conflict can range from mild blaming to outright name-calling or more. The mistake most couples make is to try to convince or persuade me that one of them is the "good guy" and the other is completely at fault. What couples learn very quickly is that I don't judge, take sides, or invest very much in the blaming process. Who is at fault--actual or perceived--almost never is the therapeutic issue.  How couples communicate and the goal of their communications are much more vital to the healing process.

"It's not me, it's HIM." It's not hard to understand why couples blame each other. No one likes to be "at fault." And, if blame can be shifted away from ourselves, we stand in "the right." In couples therapy, "right" and "blame" are much less important than understanding your partner. Empathizing with your partner. Giving benefit of the doubt. Forgiveness. Loving.


Sounds good, but it usually takes practice. And it definitely takes shifting away from blaming to understanding.

Moving from head to heart. I work with many highly intelligent couples who manage many responsibilities in both their personal and professional lives. Often, in an attempt to impose order or make sense of a hurtful situation, one or both of the couple will strive to intellectualize their differences. While this might provide logic, it inhibits the feeling process. Sometimes, there just is no sense to be made of human behavior. People are fallible. And, often, in moments of lapsed judgement or hurt, they behave in ways that defy their own values and ideas of who they are at their cores. It can be upsetting at the least; and horribly shaming. No wonder we try to try to make "sense" of it. It helps us avoid feeling our hurt. And yet, in order to begin to acknowledge our behaviors and the effects we have on others, we must feel. We must shift from processing our transgressions in our heads to dealing with them in our hearts.

Are you here to punish? You're in the wrong place. Couples sometimes do hurtful things to one another, and they're often still hurting when they walk in my office. Some come with the express purpose of extracting vengeance--with me as the audience! I can only say, I can't allow that to happen in my session. There's enough pain in the world without adding to it. And vengeance just adds pain on top of pain. What can happen, and often is very therapeutic, is to slow the couple down so they can actually hear each other; and then an amazing thing is allowed to happen: they can begin to feel their partner's pain, without having to create more pain in the room.

The purpose of their communication shifts, sometimes radically. Understanding replaces blaming. And healing can begin.

I honor every couple who has the courage to move through the process of couples therapy. Like many journeys, it can be difficult, but also very rewarding. At the end of every long road home is home--the place we build with the ones we love. And there is rarely so satisfying a destination as this.

Until next time, thanks for listening.