Slowing Down, or "How Would You Know If Your Body Was Saying No?"

Summertime.  A time when alot of us take a vacation. Time away from work, from our regular routines. Time to relax, recharge, reset.

Often, a vacation is exactly what we need to temporarily move out of work mode in order to give our bodies--and minds--a respite from daily stressors.

But, what if a vacation isn't enough? How would you know if you needed to do more than slow down for a week or two? And, what if you really needed to make a lasting change in the velocity of your life? How would you know? Where would you start?

Most twenty- and even thirty-somethings rarely think about slowing down.  If anything, life is about wringing the most out of each moment, experience, opprotunity or relationship. "More" and "faster" are simply better. And, twenty-and thirty-year-olds, more often than not, have the physical stamina to keep up with their inner expectations.

As we age (can you tell I was recently called a "Senior?") our bodies often send us different--even disconcerting--messages regarding our ability to withstand stressors.  Daily, repetitive mental stressors can take their toll in a variety of ways that often show up in a yearly physical (most healthcare plans, even the bare-bones plans, provide for a yearly "wellness" exams. If you're not sure, ask!)  The effects of stress and what I call "time-starvation" (not enought time to do everything) can show up in the form of elevated blood pressure, weight gain, aches and pains, insomnia, and a variety of other somatic (bodily) symptoms that might not point to anything by themselves, but add up to a wake-up call in the aggregate.

So your doctor says, "you need to slow down, cut back, de-stress." A reasonable question is, "How?"

Just as weight loss requires a lifestyle change (or at least a change in one's relationship with food), so "stress loss" requires a change in your relationship with yourself--your professional expectations, physical expectations, relationship expectations, and possibly even an adjustment of your self image.
Sound like alot? The longer-term alternatives could be chronic stress, obesity, headaches, bowel disorders, high blood pressure, depression--even death.  Stress, untreated, can literally be a killer.

Obviously, therapy can be a healthy start to treating stress and making life changes to reduce it. If you're thinking of taking steps to de-stress your life a bit, here are some questions to consider:
*how many hours a week do I devote to work?
*how many hours of vigorous (make you sweat) exercise do I get on a regular weekly basis?
*how stressful are my primary relationships (partner, children, colleagues)?
*have others commented about my stress/anger/health?
*how many hours do I devote to activities that renew me (hobbies, passions)?
*when was the last time I had any solitary--me--time?

If you can't remember when you even addressed the above questions, it might be useful to sit down--and write down the answers. At least begin the conversation with yourself. If you're wondering if you're stressed out, ask someone close to you for an honest opinion.

The road to stress-reduction starts with the understanding that maybe--just maybe--you're cramming too much into your life--and enjoying it less.

And, if your life feels mostly like the opposite of a vacation, it might be time to slow down and see how you might begin to put things back into balance.  The good news is, you took on your life obligations--you're the one who can prioritize and, if needed, reduce them.

Until next time, thanks for listening. Enjoy your vactation.

The Gift of Perspective: It's As Plain As The Nose On Your Face.

I've mentioned my former client "Charlotte" in several posts. She's 95. She's wise. And she's dying.

Quite literally, Charlotte is in physical decline that limits her to her home and relatively mundane activities like watching TV and reading. This, quite a change for a woman who, in the not-so-distant past drove herself to current events meetings, luncheons, history classes, church meetings, family gatherings. therapy groups and poker games.

Charlotte's lot is not unusual. Charlotte is a social being who, through aging, has been reduced to a life of limitations.

We speak of these limitations in our weekly visits. She muses on her limitations and the hereafter. I counter with, "It could be worse." And she rolls her eyes in mock disdain.

It could be worse.

No one, especially someone who is captive to the limitiations of  life, wants to hear that phrase.

Now, I don't mean to minimize the frustrations and disappointments that aging brings. I watched my mother's gradual--and might I add graceful--decline from age 80-92. There just comes a day when 18 holes of golf turns to nine. When walking becomes a chore, not a recreation. When the physical effort required to go out to dinner outweighs the usual enjoyment of the ritual.  And, gradually, napping, resting, turning down invitations, saying "no" to a host of previous enjoyments begins to become more the norm than the exception. Isolation and depression can result.

Or... perspective can take hold.

In the case of Charlotte, we recently talked about her actual limitations and abilities. On the minus side, she can't venture out of the house without assitance and lots of trepidation. On the plus side, she still can get up every morning, dress herself, talk on the phone, receive visitors and do some simple cooking. On the minus side, she needs daily assitance from a home healthcare worker. On the plus side, Charlotte likes her helper, and Charlotte can still live in her own home. Minus: Charlotte tires easily and is often lonely. Plus: she can still enjoy a good book, understands world affairs and can hold her own in almost any discussion.

A time-backward comparision to her fomer life leaves Charlotte a bit sad, lamenting all she has lost.

And here's the perspective part...a lateral look--to each side--may prove both illuminating and encouraging: when you look at what could be in your minus column...it could be worse.

Some call this Pollyanna thinking. If it is, I'm guilty. So be it. But I truly believe that, if we decide to perform the occasional assessment of lives, we are bound to be thorough. Which means looking at our lives from all angles, possibilities and perspectives.

When I used to be stumped by the obvious, my mother used to laugh and remind me the solution as "as plain as the nose on your face."  Looking back, I realize that sometimes, we need to step back a little to see the obvious. I can't see the nose on my own face. But, with the help of a mirror or a photograph, there it is! It just takes another perspective.

So, if, regardless of your age,  you're facing up to the limitiations in your life, remember to be fair to yourself. Hold up a mirror. Take a good look. Find your nose--and a broader, fairer, and kinder perspective.

Until next time, thanks for listening.

My First Sip of "Senior" Coffee, or Acceptance: Caf or Decaf?

It's almost impossible to believe that three months have passed since my last post. As with all lapses, it feels difficult to re-start after a long absence, but here goes....

I never imagined that a major life milestone would come to pass in a local McDonald's. But it did.

According to the tall lanky, gap-toothed server pinned with the "Michael" name tag, I am officially a "senior."

One morning several weeks ago,  I stopped in a convenient McDonald's for a cup of  coffee on the way to work. Coffee snobs, take note: I like their coffee. It's always hot. They always get my order right (half decaf, 2 creams, 1 Equal). And they do it with a smile.

This particular morning, coffee in hand and preparing to pay, Michael announced that I owed 55 cents. "Wow," I said. "Have you cut your prices?" "No," he cheerily replied. "Senior Coffee is only 55 cents."

Senior Coffee.

It took me a second or two to realize He's talking to you. You're the senior who just got the discounted cup of coffee. Pay the man.

And that's what I did. I had saved 60 cents, and lost my middle age--all in a single transaction.

Now, I've never been sensitive about my age. But I, vainly, have always thought that I look--at least a little bit--younger than my age.  But, here it was: without so much as asking me, Michael had made the determination--on looks alone--that I qualified as a "senior."

I've written in past posts about the work of acceptance, and the therapeutic value in accepting what cannot be changed. Certainly, my age cannot be changed--except with the addition of minutes, hours, days and years. Older is one option. Death is the other. Going backwards is not.

My father's favorite quip about turning 80 was, "It's a helluva lot better than not turning 80."  It's often been said, jokingly (or is it?) that the alternative to aging is pretty grim. And, while death does carry a grim reputation, I have had some deep and engaging conversations with my 95-year-old client "Charlotte" about the hereafter. Whether or not death is a preferable state is a debate left for another time.

All this being said, I now embrace my seniorhood. Well, not exactly--I embrace my cup of Senior Coffee--and my 60-cent savings--every time I go to McDonald's. I must admit that, I secretly harbor the faint dream that one morning some fresh-faced young thing at the counter will take my order, pause for a moment,  look at me quizzically and offer up those magic words: Are you sure you're a senior?

Hasn't happened yet.

But back to that fateful morning with Michael. As I took my first cup of Senior Coffee and turned to leave, I stopped and asked Michael, as casually as I could muster, "So, by the way, just how old do seniors have to be, you know, to get Senior Coffee?"

Without blinking he said breezily, "Fifty-five."

I brightened just a little, secure--at least in my imagination--that at least Michael had taken me for 55. And not a day older. Two years younger than my birth certificate will attest. And that is my acceptance, half decaf, two creams, and one Equal.

Until next time, thanks for listening.

Stop Fighting Yourself: On Courage, Wisdom & The Serenity Prayer.

I recently Googled "The Serenity Prayer," and up came 2,130,000 results in a scant 0.9 seconds.

The reason I looked was to refresh my memory on the exact wording:
God grant me the serenity 
to accept the things I cannot change; 
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.


The Serenity Prayer comes up a lot in my senior group discussions.  As I've mentioned in previous posts, I hold several groups each week where senior clients (mostly women, mostly in their late 70s or 80s) support each other as gravity, body chemistry,and life alter and/or take away the basics of independent living. Said another way, they're learning to cope with the effects of aging.

Aging. Talk about something "I cannot change."

I also work with a variety of other clients who are navigating the younger end of the lifespan; while not exactly challenged yet by "old age," they have their own life difficulties, some changeable, some not.

What is challenging, sometimes saddening, but always rewarding is helping and watching clients come to moments of "acceptance:"
I will not be able to drink like a "normal" person.
The relationship is over.
I will need to take medication--every day.
It's not "everybody else." It's me.


And so it goes. The realizations often come hard, but often with a sense of relief.

Once we can stop fighting the truth about ourselves, we can start devoting that energy to either courage (to face a difficult change we need to make in ourselves or our lives) or acceptance (of that part of ourselves or our relationships that is difficult, but true).

When the familiar words of the Serenity Prayer popped up on my screen,  I also saw something new. What I didn't know is that the attributed author, theologian Dr. Rheinhold Niebuhr, had a second, less quoted part of the prayer, which goes like this:

Living one day at a time; 

Enjoying one moment at a time; 

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; 

Taking, as He did, this sinful world

as it is, not as I would have it; 

Trusting that He will make all things right

if I surrender to His Will;

That I may be reasonably happy in this life 

and supremely happy with Him

Forever in the next.

Amen.

Regardless of your belief system--God, the universe, divine spirit--try, for a moment to plug into the basic tenet: taking this world as it is...not as you would have it,...trusting...surrendering...that I may be reasonably happy in this life.


Reasonably happy. Sounds promising. Amen

Until next time, thanks for listening.

Can It Realy Be March? Or, We're All Allowed A "Do-Over."

Winter typically give us time for introspection. The days are short; the weather is often wet, cold and drives us indoors. We may not be as active or social as we might normally be.

And so, we sit. And we think. And we ponder. Hence my last post on finding purpose in one's life.

Five short weeks later, it's March and what a difference. The days feel substantially longer (light!). The daily temperature swings a bit higher and dips not quite as low.  If you're into gardening, you know that the soil will now accept seeds (yes!) even three weeks before the last predicted frost.

In other words, spring is upon us. The season of renewal. Birds return from the south, earthworms till the soil, sun warms our faces (yes, there is usually rain--and more rain, in our area, but this season seems to be an exception).  It's the season that has traditionally signalled a "waking up" from winter, and a rebirth of living things.

If you've had a season of introspection, stagnation or even despair, spring provides the chance for a giant "do-over."

I work with many clients who face chemical addiction on a daily basis. While many are in recovery and have significant "clean time," others experience occasional relapse and the myriad of emotions that come with it: shame, frustration, disillusion, even sadness.  Despite much knowledge, support, 12-step work and personal work for sobriety, my clients who relapse often report a feeling of having to "start over at day one" of their sobriety. It can be heavy and disheartening.

I was fortunate to train with an experienced and savvy addiction recovery counselor who told her groups,
"You may be in day one of recovery, but no one--I repeat--no one can take from you ANY of the days you had sober. You earned each one of them. They are yours forever. So now...you start adding to them, one by one."

It's true of recovery. What's more, it's true of any behavior you've successfully mastered, and then may have fumbled. Did you slip away from your diet over the winter? Fail to get to the gym as much as you planned?  Maybe you vowed to volunteer, keep in touch, be kinder, work harder, etc.

Well, spring is coming. And you, like all of the rest of us, can use the start of the season for your personal "do-overs." Start small, but start!  If you want to feel successful, start keeping a record of your improving behaviors.  Make a chart, keep a journal, mark the calendar. When you can see your progress, you'll feel your progress. Try it.

I can almost guarantee that forward movement will feel better. Like the sound of your robins returning from their winter vacation, the greening of the hills around you and the sun on your face, the renewal of your best intentions can feel wonderful and invigorating.

Like your own personal spring.

Until next time, watch for the robins. Thanks for listening.

What Next? Or, Finding New Purpose In Your Life.

A constant refrain that I hear from colleagues and clients alike is, "I wish I had more time in the day!" As a species that is experiencing the cutting edge of technology designed to make our lives easier, we continue to find more and more to do in less and less time.  It seems that, as technology reduces the time it takes to accomplish a task, we find more tasks to take on.  Which can lead us to apexes of efficiency--punctuated by bouts of exhaustion, frustration, leading to deeper moments that call up the big question: What's it all about? Is this--the frenzy, the efficiency, the ticking off of "to do" lists--is this what it's all about?  Why am I here?

I have had the privilege of working with people of all ages, across the lifespan.  And, my clients have shown me that past the age of 18 or so, "the big question" above comes into play at many of life's transition moments: For teenagers leaving home for work, the military or college; for young adults getting married, having their first child, moving or choosing more defined career paths; for those who lose jobs or relationships either unexpectedly or after a clear period of dissatisfaction; for those faced with their first physical limitations of normal aging; for those facing serious illness; for those who face retirement and the conclusion of their professional "usefulness;" and, in the ending phases of life those who, examining a life of accomplishments, failures, compromises, regrets and losses find themselves asking: What was it all about?

The people who seem to weather the question the best are those who, at various stages of their lives, find a way to "repurpose" themselves. They find a way to adjust, replace or augment a value system that no longer serves them.  And, in the process, they also, unconsciously or not, redefine the meaning of "satisfaction" in their lives.

The young couple who starts a family may initially find the transition from couple to family limiting and difficult, until they recognize and elevate the importance--and joy-- of raising a child.  

Job loss--often a devastating blow to the ego at first--can be an invitation to re-examine what you really would like to to if there were no limits to your choices?  I've worked with several clients who have found themselves in just that position--and have taken the opportunity to find new purpose in their daily work.

Serious illness or loss of a loved one can act as a life signal to pause--or at least slow down. Loss, of either our own functionality or independence--however temporary--can be a cause for pause. Death of a spouse, family member of friend can further underscore our own relative impermanence--and the finite nature of our span on earth.  The question often becomes: What legacy will I leave? Did my time here matter?


Another life marker, retirement, can be a time of reinvention or a time of feeling adrift. Many older adults reach their retirement years facing the question: Now what? If your job so thoroughly defines you, if your professional accomplishments are your primary source of life satisfaction, you may find yourself reaching retirement asking the same question.

Fortunately, we are, as a species, remarkable in our ability to reinvent--to repurpose--ourselves. Businessmen become tutors in retirement; accountants become landscape painters; physicians become organic gardeners. Successful retirement years become a time for passion to either augment or replace profession.

And, finally, in our final years, we are often blessedly equipped with the time--and the insight--to conduct a life review: an examination of where we've been and what the journey has meant. And most of the aging adults I've had the privilege to work with have been blessed with another ability: acceptance.   Acceptance of accomplishments, failures, even mediocrity--at the end with a minimum amount of energy  devoted to regret.

It's then that an amazing transformation can occur--the shift from wondering if one's life was worthy--to acceptance of the life we actually lived, peaks, valleys and the terrain in between.

Until next time, thanks for listening.

Why They're Called "Resolutions," Or How To Bolster Your Resolve.

We're one week into the new year and, chances are, it's likely you know someone (perhaps yourself) who has committed to improve, overhaul or otherwise change a behavior in the next 52 weeks. Some goals are lofty (lose 50 pounds!); some are more modest (be kinder to co-workers); and some, despite our best efforts, may be unattainable, which leads not only to disappointment, but also builds resistance to change in the future.

In my work, I'm privileged to sit with intelligent, motivated individuals who are working for change--or acceptance--in their lives. Some of the tools we use in our work together may be helpful to those of you who are fortifying your resolve for change in this new year.  Here are a few suggestions that may help.

Set attainable goals. Take a look at your goal. Write it down on a piece of paper and read it aloud to yourself. "Run a marathon" may be completely doable if you're healthy enough for vigorous exercise and have some experience with running. If you've never run before, you may want to set a more reasonable goal--say, walk every day, with a goal of one mile by day 60. You may need input from your doctor or a trainer. The point is, attaining your goal will be a real ego booster. If your goal is too ambitious, you may be setting yourself up for failure.

Set measurable goals. To succeed, you need to know how you define "success." If your goal is to lose weight, it will help to quantify your goal: "Lose 5 pounds  by March 30th." If you miss your goal you can always reset. But having a target and a timeline can help keep you on track.

Make sure they're your goals, not someone else's. Our friends and loved ones may have wishes for us that will make our lives better, healthier, etc.  But the fact is, if you're not invested in your goals for change, you're not likely to be motivated to do the work to change.


Don't set yourself up for failure. "Become an astronaut" sounds, to me, like an exciting goal; but, at my stage in life, it's unlikely to happen because of the training, physical stamina, and skill set needed to journey into space.  Don't get me wrong. Don't abandon goals just because they're lofty. But look honestly at your goal and ask: Am I ready to make the commitment? Can I commit the time and resources needed? Are there any intermediate goals (in this instance, say, attending a space camp) that will help me get to my end goal?

Set up a support system. Let others know how they can help you reach your goals. If, for example, you want to stop smoking, you may find it difficult to be around your smoking friends for awhile. It might be helpful, in this example, to let them know that you need a smoke-free environment for the near future, and that you want to spend time with them when they're not lighting up.

If you slip, start again. Miss a day of exercise? Indulge in a piece of Boston cream pie? Move on. Lamenting your slip won't undo it. Try your best to understand how the slip happened and what you can do to avoid future slips. Learn what you can, accept that you're human, and train your eye--again--on the prize. Move on.

Adjust goals if necessary. Finding that you just can't make it to the gym seven days a week? It may be realistic to temporarily adjust your goal so you can find satisfaction in meeting it. If you're continually disappointing yourself, it will likely erode your resolve to continue with the larger goal.

Take small steps. Your bigger goal may logically have several "building blocks" to success. Set incremental goals that move you toward your ultimate goal. This way, you're always moving in the right direction, and enjoying your incremental successes.

Finally, reward yourself for your progress. Positive reinforcement is a great motivator. Take time to monitor your progress and reward it. Did you eat in a healthy way for five days in a row? Take yourself to the movies, write "Good Job!" on a post-it and put it on the refrigerator, share the news with a friend and enjoy a compliment.  You'll be motivated to continue.

Whatever you decide to do in the new year, remember: if you set the bar too high, you may be sabotaging your own success. Be realistic. Build goal upon goal. Recognize your slips and move on. Reward your successes.

May your new year be blessed with your own successes, and more.

Until next time, thanks for listening.