29 January 2016
When A Celebrity Moves On
This month saw the deaths of performers such as David Bowie, Glenn Frey, Kitty Kallen, and Alan Rickman. One month. Happy January.
When we lose someone, even if they aren’t family but someone well-known – a musician, say, whose music was always there in the background of our lives – it can force us to put our own lives into perspective. Suddenly, no matter how old we are, we are made older. The continuity of having a beloved actor or performer always around us can have the effect similar to that of an extended family member…or a family member we wished we had. And, similarly, we can mourn as if we lost someone close to us, even if we never met them.
During these moments we begin to pay attention to ourselves, our accomplishments or lack thereof, using this famous performer’s career as a map of our own less famous trajectory. And, depending upon how we feel, we may end up feeling more lonely, less assured, or perhaps feel that the future is less clear.
This is a good time to talk it out, or, if there’s no one available, perhaps writing about your thoughts in a journal or web blog. Life is life, and when I’m working with clients I’m happy to allow the events which don’t directly involve my clients – like the passing of a well-known performer – to come into the room. Sometimes it can allow the client to search deeply and find feelings and connections they didn’t realize were with them but not realized.
[note: when I first posted this I included singer Joe Cocker’s name, however, while indeed he has passed away, it turns out that this happened a number of years ago.]
If you are interested in learning more about my services, about me, or perhaps booking an appointment, please call me at 416-873-7828 or email me at info@downtowntherapy.ca for more information.
filed under: anxiety• change• death• grief• society
26 October 2015
The Middle Distance: A Beginner’s View of Endings
It’s inspiring to want to change our lives around. In theory.
However, what some of us miss in this fervour for change are things like patience and self-acceptance. When we come to the (perhaps long-gestating) realization that we aren’t happy with, say, where we are in our career, or the types of friendships we cultivate, the temptation is to push for a sea change – now. It’s possible that some of us tell ourselves, using a little bit of magical thinking, that if only we can see ourselves cross the imaginary finish line – a new line of work, or a new workplace, or a group of friends who take as much interest in us as we do with them – then everything will change for the better. And if this doesn’t happen quickly enough, which is almost always the case, we might become discouraged. Our thoughts can be flooded with negative messaging: we didn’t deserve it, we aren’t good enough, it’s not fated to be.
As someone who took to distance running later in life (in my 40s), I look back on how I got to where I am now. I can now run a decent 15km – that’s less than a half-marathon – but I remembering struggling with my first circuit, which was (charitably) about 2km. I remember my next door neighbour seeing me hunched over on the steps to my house, dripping with sweat, heaving for air. I remember her saying “You should do that more often so you get less tired!” And while I appreciated the comment as supportive, I recall bristling on the inside, thinking to myself: Just leave me alone to suffer.
I use this as an example because when I first started running I had no goals. I didn’t know what I was capable of, so I proceeded modestly, purchasing a very basic pair of running shoes and using clothing cast-off from various sports I’d played throughout adulthood. I think if I had begun my running with a goal of 15km – heck, 7km – seeing myself sitting on those steps out of breath would have been pretty disheartening. If I was the sort of person who couldn’t tolerate anything less than x, where x is an ideal result, I probably would’ve been tempted to quit.
Change requires more than a good idea. Planning is advised. I also think many will say perseverance wins out. And perseverance has less to do with crossing an imaginary finish line as it has to do with accepting the patient process of development – the middle distance between beginning and completion. And this is a daunting challenge for those of us who are prone to perfectionistic thinking. Perfectionism tends to obscure the reality of the middle distance; in perfectionistic terms we are either on top or beneath, winner or loser.
Often in the thinking pattern of people who are given to perfectionistism there is very low tolerance for anything that does not represent an unerring diagonal line going upwards: progress. But progress, in reality, includes process. We try something, we see how we react to the conditions of this new thing we are trying, we adjust our expectations accordingly, and we try again hoping that the results eventually please us. A perfectionist, upon seeing that they did not perform to the degree they felt they should have at the outset, will grow intolerant of the entire project. Sometimes this may mask an intolerance for a part of themselves which they wished could always consistently impress.
I suppose what I’m saying is that making room for the middle distance means, perhaps counter-intuitively to some, that the end (whether that be a finish line or something more abstract) may be more realistic and thus reachable. Destinations are rewarding, but the journey is what we ultimately learn from.
If you are interested in learning more about my services, about me, or perhaps booking an appointment, please call me at 416-873-7828 or email me at info@downtowntherapy.ca for more information.
Recent Comments