Category Archives: psychotherapy

Not Spry. Or Spunky. Perhaps Getting Grumpy

I am, apparently, just about at that age where, should some mischief attempt to befall me on a morning walk, perhaps, the news story (as if Seminole ever gets news coverage) would start like this:

“An elderly Seminole woman defended herself against (fill in the blank – loose dog, unusually defensive coyote, a foolish person, etc.).  Dolores Puterbaugh, age (yup), of Seminole, was spry and spunky enough to fight off (problem creature). Etc., etc.”

There is nothing wrong with the word spry. It means agile or nimble, and if we were still applying it across the lifespan, it would be one thing. As it stands, however, we do not call college gymnasts spry.  We also do not describe 40-year-old males who stick up for themselves as “spunky.” These terms have been relegated to the equivalent of “aren’t you cute” and a pat on the head, reserved mostly for men and women of a certain age.

I once read an article in which the author asserted that elderly people often fall or are otherwise injured because they are moving quickly in order to prove they are still spry. This is simultaneously hilarious and offensive. Guess what, whippersnapper; we aren’t thinking about your opinion at all. We’re just doing life. Plenty of young people faceplant on the sidewalk because they hit uneven pavement, or aren’t paying attention. We don’t call their just-seconds-ago pace an attempt to show off their, oh, I don’t know! Let’s call it spryness.

In our performative culture, perhaps the fact that most of us of a certain age really aren’t sitting around, wringing our hands and hoping we can get the approval of younger people doesn’t make sense to the cohorts that crave constant feedback. We value the love of our families and friends, but that’s different than needing approval. I suspect a bit of projection in the notion that seniors are busy putting on a show for young people.

Yet, to be honest, I hope to demonstrate something. I hope I can live out what aging gracefully looks like – what it looks like to do the work of it, and balance determination and accommodations with a spirit of surrender to God’s process here. I would like very much to do this without grumpiness. It will require a lot of grace. But that’s different than showing off agility or trying to impress people with my courage. Or is it spunk?

Critical Boundaries

Are you absolutely sick of hearing about “boundaries”?  Yeah, me, too, sometimes. And yet, here I go.

Many of us are also tired of hearing, “I have a right to my opinion.” Yup, we all do – and we then have the right to experience the consequences of sharing said opinion.

In particular, I’m thinking about the encroaching that parents of adults routinely make in regard to their independent adult children. The adult who is still dependent, perhaps living under a parent’s roof or otherwise supported, forfeits a little in the boundary department when it comes to behavior in the home or financial issues. That is a separate conversation. I’m also not talking about an intervention for a severe problem; addiction and its consequences, for example, can require strong measures.

I’m talking about the comments, questions and subtle criticisms that so many people think are acceptable conversational elements when it comes to their independent adult children.

Adults who are independent and living well, do not need uninvited advice on what they should be doing. “Living well” may not mean “living just like me” or “living as I would in the same circumstances.” Parents who offer such advice think, I love them and I want to help them with my hard-won wisdom.

That is not what their children hear. They hear,

Nothing you do is good enough/right/acceptable, or,

You are incompetent to handle your life.

The adult child is, understandably, offended by such criticism, direct or implied. They may think, they have no idea what life is like now. It’s not like it was then. Why can’t they even ask before they just go firing off advice and telling me what I ought to do?

Fair enough.

If you wouldn’t walk up to a stranger or a neighbor or acquaintance with the same uninvited guidance on how to improve something in their lives, why do this to another adult who happens to be your offspring?

Imagine walking up to some stranger in the produce department and announcing that leggings with such a short top might not be the best look for them since the vacation/surgery/baby and adding a helpful, “I’m just saying,” before wandering off to inspect the fresh spinach.

Or perhaps interrupting a neighbor’s enthusiastic description of a recent vacation with, “Don’t you people ever get tired of cruises/hiking/camping/theme parks/bicycle tours/ etc.?”

Would you walk up to a coworker and pepper them with questions about their preference for leasing over buying motor vehicles, barely listening to their response before piling on another criticism barely veiled in a question?

I have met people, of course, who would freely do all the above – and they are not exactly models for healthy relationships. Yet many other people will speak to their adult children this way, and be indignant when their children push back or just get quiet.

None of this seems worth cutting off parents for; to me, it seems like a hard conversation waiting to be had. I have seen families ruptured by this; the parent who refuses to accept reasonable boundaries, the adult child seemingly eager to take offense. Flags on the field all around, from my perspective. But both have to be willing to accept their slice of responsibility if things are going to get better.

Thanks for reading.

Set-Ups, Near Occasions & Solution-Focused Brief Therapy

Haven’t we all had times we felt set up for failure?

Near occasions. Think of them as set-ups. Human beings are spectacularly good at setting ourselves up, for good choices and for the not-so-good, too.

We Catholics refer to near-occasions of sin – the people, places, things and behaviors that we might see as “set ups” for us to make poor choices. There’s nothing inherently “bad” about gathering at a bar and grill with friends, but if you are trying hard to maintain your recovery as an alcoholic, it is a “near occasion.” It’s a set-up to make good choices even tougher. Likewise, the trip to the mall to “just walk around” when you’re trying to work your way out of debt. Why set yourself up for failure?

In the same way, there are what may be called “near occasions of Grace,” the people, places, things and behaviors that increase our odds of making good choices. The friends who are uplifting and don’t gossip; the entertainment that doesn’t feed envy or anger; the activities that make the rest of the day better. We “set up” the likelihood of good choices, too.

Solution Focused Brief Therapy (SFBT) similarly looks at people, places, things and behaviors. You may be thinking, well, duh, what sort of therapy does NOT focus on solutions? Different forms of therapy have different emphases in terms of finding solutions. For example, psychodynamic therapy emphasizes developing insight that leads to new choices; behavior modification focuses on step-by-step actions to guide the client towards reaching goals. In SFBT, there is a particular emphasis on the clues (factors that set up outcomes) in people’s lives and using these clues and the client’s strengths to develop solutions. In many ways, it is looking for near occasions of the goals the client has for therapy. When has the goal in question already happened, or part of it happened?  What was going on then? What was happening right before that? What were you doing? What were others doing? As a team, we investigate the near occasions of success so the client can use the clues to develop solutions that make sense for that client’s life.

Just as a quick example, let’s consider the person who realizes that getting the morning off on the right foot tends to lead to a better day, all-around. We look at examples of those “better days.” What did happen in the morning? What happened the day before that might have contributed to that morning? There are usually plenty of clues and examples of times when the person has been successful in doing things that either led to a “better day” or set the stage to some degree.  Some clues might be eating a reasonably healthy dinner, getting to bed “on time” and not using the phone or other screened device, getting up on time and getting out of bed right away instead of starting the phone-scroll. The person identifies the factors and then we look at how to increase the incidence or likelihood of those recurring. Breaking it down further, let’s take the dilemma of the phone next to the bed and its appeal as a way to deal with insomnia, or its interference with just getting out of bed on time. “I can’t leave it in the kitchen. It’s my alarm clock,” people will assert. Yes, I understand- and I understand that I bought a little travel alarm clock – a couple of AA batteries that have thus far worked for years – that wakes me reliably every morning whether there’s a power outage or not, and I do not have my phone over there, flashing lights and buzzing every time an artist friend posts a painting. It seems many other artists are night owls. The solution, if what is wanted is actually a reliable alarm clock function, can be had for less than fifteen dollars.  If the phone is off in another room, you’ll have to get out of bed to get to it. And by then you will probably have done something besides scroll – brushed your teeth or started the coffee or fed the dog. You will be vertical, approximately on time, and therefore have “set up” a more likely success story about getting into your day “on time.” The phone by the bed is a “near occasion” of extra time awake during the night, more time in bed, and then being rushed, grumpy and unprepared for the day. Nothing is inherently bad about the phone – but it might be part of a “set up.”

We all have “near occasions” – of sin, grace, good choices, bad choices. The negative ones have less power when we know what they are, and the good ones can exert their power when we focus on them.

Willpower: Perfect, Free and Permissive

It’s the nature of psychotherapy that we enter into people’s suffering with them, and there we face together the big, awful questions of life. For believers who struggle (and who doesn’t?) and those nonbelievers whose skepticism and doubt are underscored by the terrible events of life, I offer, not for the first time, a clumsy explanation about the role of will. I take no credit for the originality of these ideas; a wise priest, C.S. Lewis and others get all the credit. But in case you are not in the market to take up a theological book, or even Lewis’s wonderfully clear and concise “Mere Christianity,” I offer my awkward summary.

Many religious people pour salt in their own suffering by imagining that, since everything that happens is due to God’s Will, then they have to wrestle with a God who wanted, for example, their loved one to be killed by a drunk driver. That grief is a terrible burden to bear, made worse if you believe that the God whom you love and serve orchestrated it with terrible precision. Adding to this is the unhelpful, albeit well-intended, “comfort” offered by those who say it’s all God’s Will.

This problem of what a good God is up to, which I dare to wade into, is the difference between what we believers might describe, (and again, I borrow the terms from wise people) as God’s Perfect Will versus God’s Permissive Will. And between them stand, like obstinate toddlers, all of humanity with its free will, myself included.

The Perfect plan, if I may, would be all of us living in harmony. Each would be using their gifts to bring service and joy to others; kindness and generosity would rule the day. The earth itself would continue to evolve to perfection – what we look forward to with the final end of disease and suffering.

And … we have free will. That messes things up. In the Perfect Will of God, that drunk driver would not gotten drunk. They would have not gotten behind the wheel, they would not have been deluded into believing they were “fine.” But free will allows that stupid, selfish, and evil series of choices. It also allowed the choices by other people: to not intervene, to not be ready to be the fun killer who takes away the keys and calls a rideshare or deliver the drunk home oneself. There are usually not-so-innocent bystanders in such situations. Not everyone drives drunk. Some people text and drive. Some people gossip. Some people attack other people on (anti)social media. Some people have numbed themselves to the loneliness of someone right there, in their own home. Most of us probably do some sort of selfish act every day, even if we are oblivious to its impact on other people. I am certain I do, and it’s probably far worse and more often than I imagine.

So here we all are, stepping on one another’s toes at best and causing profound suffering at worst, making a tremendous disaster of a world that is supposed to be evolving to perfection. And that mess is what might be called God’s Permissive Will. It was not God’s Perfect plan, but since free will was given, this is what we get.

I will now go out on a more fragile limb and offer a thought: that when Scripture tells us that God works all things together for good for those who love Him (Romans 8:28) that perhaps what that means is that our own free will comes into play here. When tragedy strikes, will I draw closer to God (good for me) or pull away (bad for me)? Will I go through the struggle of discerning what would God want me to do in this new and terrible circumstance, which I did not want, or will I just rebel or seek comfort in self-destructive numbing?  God, I believe, does not allow someone die tragically in order to “teach you (or me) a lesson.” But I believe that, when tragedy arises, then the “good” to be worked out will be to try to discern how to be a good person despite the tragedy, which will always lead us closer to God.

I hope this is helpful to someone who is suffering.

What are they thinking?

What are they thinking, we wonder. It’s a question we toss about in conversation. It frequently comes up with someone is doing something that seems self-destructive, or bizarre, or just unexpected.  For psychotherapists, like myself, a lot of people seem to believe we have a secret insight into what some particular person is thinking. Of course, I don’t. I have theories, sometimes, based on study and thirty-plus years of experience in mental health and sixty-plus years of experience being human, most of that as a voracious reader. But even with all that, I am often stymied and stumped as to what someone is thinking.

I recently dropped off art for a show and met another artist. We were introduced, we shook hands. He is a tall man with big, baseball mitt-sized hands. At least, compared to mine. And my small hands are twisted up and deformed with arthritis, with many joints completely failed, such that my ability to hold a brush or a pastel stick is pretty much a miracle. What was this man, a visual artist whose attention to detail is apparent in his work, thinking when he squeezed my hand as if I were a big man with whom he was about to enter an arm-wrestling contest? I don’t know, but what comes to mind is unkind. So, I try to assure myself it was a moment of oblivion.

We have many people in our neighborhood who walk their dogs and assiduously clean up after them. There is one person (I hope and pray it is only one because it is almost unbearable to think there are more) who very carefully picks up after their dog with proper little dark plastic bags, knots the bags carefully … and then leaves them behind. On the sidewalk, on someone’s driveway and once on the table at the end of our driveway where we had set out the abundant crop from our starfruit tree to give away. What was this person thinking as they left their little present next to the box of starfruit and the big sign announcing, Free Fruit? I hope I never figure it out. My husband, who is better-hearted person than I am, suggested that perhaps it was dark and they thought they were just adding to the trash pile. Hmmm.

What are they thinking when … we all wonder. And I am sure people wonder it about me. Certainly, my little adventures such as hiking up and down canyon walls and white-water rafting when I don’t even know how to swim generate some of that. Then there are the times when I nervously blurt out something stupid, awkward but well-intended when a friend shares difficult news, such as a scary health diagnosis. Being a professional is not a vaccine against that. And perhaps about you, too, sometimes, inspire people to wonder, what were they thinking? Reminding myself of this helps me give a little grace to other people’s weirdness or inconsideration, because I definitely have my moments of being weird, inconsiderate or just plain oblivious.  And at those times, no doubt someone is wondering, “My gosh, what is she thinking…?”

Quitter’s Day Part 3: Know Thyself

Micro? Macro? Or just bored?

Toe in the water, a cannonball dive, or just hanging out poolside?

Do you go for a haircut and, if it’s a new-to-you-stylist, ask for a half-inch trim so you can find out whether they actually listen and measure – or just grin and say, “Do whatever you want”? That’s your small vs big change preference in a nutshell. Then there’s never making any change that isn’t forced upon you by circumstances, like that little mishap when you to do layers like the stylist you follow on YouTube.

Because, if you’re a small-change person and you tried to take on too much in one step, you may become overwhelmed. Small-change people are often big-picture people: they see a small change (spend fifteen minutes a day learning a new language, for example), and immediately realize that fifteen minutes comes from … somewhere. And somewhere ought to be figured out so nothing important is accidentally left out. A small-change person will do better with a small and carefully planned step into change, and build from there.

But … if you’re a big-change person and you tried to make a small change, perhaps you got bored. It seemed hardly worthwhile. In that case, experiment with suiting your temperament.

Or maybe you just got discouraged because persistence with any change – big or small – can be difficult. Being persistent, sticking with the essentials, isn’t easy for most people. If it were, we wouldn’t marvel at the accomplishments of those who have developed outstanding skills in any particular domain. We know “outstanding” takes persistently showing up and doing the work.

Whatever the reason – too much, too little, just bored – maybe this week do a reboot that suits your temperament as an experiment, and see what happens.

Quitter’s Day Part 2

So … a week since the second Friday of January, what is sometimes called “Quitter’s Day,” for the frequent demise of New Year’s Resolutions. If you’ve given up, or fallen off track, every moment is potentially a new start.

Perhaps you need something a little more manageable: a small step instead of a massive change. Here’s a second suggestion, building on last week’s short post, for a small but potentially life-changing experiment. If you’re not already doing this, get outside in natural light early in the day – as soon after sunrise as you can manage, and, if it’s feasible, again at day’s end. Follow the sunset session with softer lighting indoors; night is not the time for blindingly bright lights. By getting early daylight, end-of-day light and softer, warmer indoor lighting, you will set your brain up for a more natural, sleep-friendly chemistry. With some sources citing 40% of adults having insomnia or other sleep problems, experimenting with the benefits of the right light at the right times could be well worth it!

Quitter’s Day – part 1

On New Year’s Day morning, Fr. Mike noted in his homily to those of us at early Mass that the second Friday in January is known as “Quitter’s Day,” because by then 80% of people would have quit their New Year’s Resolutions.

Perhaps you find yourself in the 80%. If so, may I suggest considering one or more short experiments – trying on a change, for a week or two – and assessing its usefulness for you. These are simple but not easy.

If making such changes were “easy,” we’d be a country overflowing with clear-thinking, peaceful, energetic, well-rested and generous-hearted people. Based on my 15-minute daily ration of news, that seems to not quite be the case.

Starting with the most basic – the marker of life at birth – breathing, which turns out to be something that we so easily can get wrong. If you are in good health and your medical provider doesn’t object, you might experiment with a practice of better breathing. This can be as simple as practicing slow, deep breathing for a few moments three times a day and then as needed when you want to calm yourself.  Breathe comfortably, slowly and deeply, so that the belly expands, rather than a quick, panting breath. Breathing out through the nose can help. “Slow” doesn’t mean make yourself dizzy or lightheaded; it means comfortable and relaxed. This kind of breathing impacts the nervous system in the abdomen and signals the brain to slow down its fight-or-flight, anxious mode.

It’s an experiment that you might try early in the morning, again when you shift gears between day and evening, and at bedtime.  You can find plenty of tutorials online with demos on relaxation breathing. If you have any medical conditions, of course, be sure that this is safe for you by consulting your healthcare provider.

Some people find this very useful as part of changing between activities, such as stopping work for lunch or at day’s end; before a stressful activity such as a presentation or dealing with a negative person; and when preparing for rest at night.

Thanks for reading!

So … Where Do Those Characters Come From?

Every author hears that question. Probably more so, it’s what people wonder when a therapist starts writing fiction. Friends, family and, possibly, clients and colleagues, wonder whose secrets I have mined to create the characters in my books.

Well, with the first novel in the series out there (Falling Feathers) and a second expected out before year’s end (Never Just One), two more in the queue for 2026 and one in development for 2027, I am happy to take on that question directly.

The fact of it is, unfortunately, that I am tucked into each of these characters.

I am Alex, the put-everyone-else-first person until the stress gets to critical mass and then she must say, No, that’s enough.

I am Joe, who can get so excited about a topic of interest to me, that I can turn any dialogue into an awkward monologue/college lecture.

I am Sandy, who wants to save the world, and probably needs to stop talking about how much better the organic produce is. But it really is better, that’s the thing.

I am Beth, who thinks if I just work a little harder, I can fix any situation.

I am Gloria, who thinks she knows best what everyone else should do. Period.

I am Bob, who smiles and nods at others’ advice and then wanders off to do what I please.

Even the characters I dislike have pieces of me. That’s the way it goes. Writing fiction is like a long and brutal examination of conscience, thrown out there for other people’s enjoyment.

To the extent any reader feels a flash of recognition – well, hello, friend! Looks like we have something in common. I hope you enjoy the books.

Believe that there is more to you

It is a sad and common theme.

A person is struggling: with an addiction, or obsessions and compulsions, or moral injury, or the impact of trauma, and has come to a place where the sense of self has been entirely subsumed by the problem and its pain.

The definition of self becomes “the addiction,” or “the monster who did (whatever has led to moral injury)” or “the mental disorder diagnosis.”

And, of course, as a therapist, I believe it is critical to address mental health troubles with the best of the science we have, with the particular approaches suited, as discerned ongoing, with the specific needs of that client.

But I also believe that a parallel need is extant and urgent: the need for this person, who is suffering, to come back to an awareness of self as a deeply beloved child of God. Not generically loved, like we may say that we “love” some food or activity or type of animal – but particular, personal, and intense.  Women who, like me, have been blessed to give birth will recall that wild wave of emotion that engulfs us when we meet that little person face-to-face after the peculiar intimacy of pregnancy. It makes us irrationally jealous of everyone and anyone; what mother doesn’t remember resenting the nurses and physicians who separated us from the baby long enough to do the general assessments and necessary care? Well, that is a reflection God’s love for each person.

If a person who is suffering is willing to enter into, and do, the hard work of therapy, which will include lifestyle changes and “homework,” and also becomes open to reconsidering his or her existence as a deeply loved person, someone who is more than the addiction, or bad choices, or terrifying memories, or intrusive thoughts and painful compulsions, then true and deep healing can happen.  This is what I would wish for every person struggling with emotional wounds.