Yesterday, I asked this question on Twitter about freaking out:
People were freaking out about many things, including money, health issues, work, family members, relationships, the pandemic, other people’s behaviors, etc., etc., etc. Indeed, some people suggested that a better question might have been “What are you NOT freaking out about right now?”
I didn’t answer my own question, but I was freaking out about our kitty Joan, her ongoing mastitis, and how she outsmarts us and every cone we put on her to promote its healing.
There’s Joan, trying to figure out how she can lick her wounds after my husband Michael tried to adapt her cone with a well-placed paper clip.
When I freak out, it’s usually because I feel helpless, so yesterday I ordered TWO MORE cones in addition to the inflatable cone that’s being delivered today.
Joan’s irritated area extends down into the top of her rear leg, so it’s very difficult to get a cone that completely prevents her from accessing it with her rough kitty tongue. Also, most cat post-surgery body suits don’t cover that area.
Over the past month, as we’ve treated her with antibiotics, applied topical lotion to the area, sent lots of pictures of the area to the vet, and helped Joan adjust to the different types of treatment (while trying to bond with her), we’ve seen the problem area get better and then get worse.
It freaks me out that I know so much about trying to help a cat heal, but we’re still not past this.
When I freak out, Michael tries to calm me by focusing on the positive: she’s not in pain, it’s not going to kill her, and she will get better, even if it takes much longer than we expected.
When I freak out, it also helps me to write about it in this blog. This blog — and all of you — have helped me get through many freak outs over the years.
Let’s see if the Daily Bitch is all about freaking out today.
It is!
Here’s what I find on YouTube when I search for “freaking out.”
What might you be freaking out about right now? Whatever it is, chances are you’re not alone.
I have so much freaking gratitude for all who help me write this daily blog, including YOU!
Fortunately, there are always more everythings, every day, to notice and share.
This blog is everything to me, so I’m planning on including it in my five-minute “Ted Talk” about Picking up the Pieces at my upcoming 45th college reunion.
Here’s what I wrote about that, this morning:
So as I tell my story to you today, I wonder, perhaps along with you,
what has allowed me to survive, so intact, through all these years of
uncertainty and crisis? What has helped me pick up the pieces, over
and over again? As when I was a child — the love of my family and
friends sustain me. Also, about seven years ago I expanded my
network of friends by starting a daily blog. Every morning, including
today, I write about my heart, my son, my boyfriend, my work,, my
passion for the healing power of groups, my music, my cats, my
hopes, my fears, — whatever helps gird and prepare me for the day
ahead. The day after my heart valve replacement surgery is the only
day I needed a substitute blogger — my boyfriend Michael let my
thousands of readers know I had survived the complicated surgery.
The comments from my readers that day included “This is the best
news that I could receive!” “She’s going to be alright guys’ is the best
line ever!”
As I know with my work with groups, community is essential for
survival. Perhaps because of all the traumas I’ve been through, I need
a bigger group than most to keep me going. Thanks for being part of
my group, today.
I’ve written several drafts to make sure that talk is everything to me and to my listeners at the reunion. I hope everything, above, will make it to my final speech. I’ll keep you posted about that and everything else.
I don’t like killing, I don’t like killing one bird (much less two), and I don’t like throwing stones, but I’m using this title today because
it means “achieving two aims at once” and
I’m killing two birds with one stone right now.
The two “birds “are (1) an article I promised to write for a professional group therapy organization’s newsletter before I leave for a two-week trip to Scotland on Saturday and (2) today’s blog post.
The “stone” is the following:
When the intrepid editor of this newsletter asked me to write a 600 – 800 article about what it’s like to be the President Elect of NSGP, I thought that would be a relatively easy assignment. I mean, I write a blog post every day, I used to be a professional writer before I changed careers in the 1990s, and — most importantly — I AM the President Elect of NSGP, so that perspective is immediately accessible.
However, I’ve been working on this article for days, and it’s been remarkably difficult. Perhaps it’s difficult because in all the years I’ve been a member of this wonderful organization, I never dreamed I’d be writing an article like this one. Indeed, when a nominating committee member called me earlier this year to ask if I would consider being president, I asked, “president of what?”
Perhaps I’m finding this assignment difficult because I’m not sure how to separate out the perspective of an NSGP President Elect from all my other perspectives as a human being who
has a passionate belief in the healing power of groups,
kept changing careers until she found the right match for herself,
lives to communicate with others in a meaningful way,
loves her work providing open-access therapy groups at the Primary Care Practice at a major teaching hospital in Boston,
appreciates every opportunity to learn and grow,
maintains hope for the future even during difficult and challenging times,
has faith in people’s and organizations’ ability to adapt and survive,
is sustained by “personal medicine” including family, friends, music, good food, the ocean, travel, singing, cats, and NSGP,
was born with an unusual heart,
is sometimes intimidated by brilliant colleagues,
has learned to overcome fear in many aspects of her life,
tries to keep her sense of humor no matter what, and
is aware that she needs several hundred more words to complete this article.
Perhaps I can fill out the rest of that newsletter article with photos …
Earlier this year, I attempted to explain The Meaning of Life. Thanks to my niece Julie’s lovely Christmas present to me last night …
… I am choosing to revisit this topic today.
Because I’m a group therapist, I usually like to go to the group, first, about any important topic. Therefore, my esteemed group of readers, what would YOU express in a journal called “The Meaning of Life”? Might you fill that journal with:
thoughts?
feelings?
the past?
the present?
the future?
hopes?
dreams?
disappointments?
yourself?
other people?
lessons?
warnings?
the facts?
imagination?
words?
images (like these, from yesterday, Christmas eve 2015)?
Your meanings will give more meaning to this meaningful post.
Happy Christmas, love, and peace to all my readers. And I mean it.
Yesterday, I encountered an unexpected snag when I tried to transfer my photos from my phone to my laptop during my morning blogging. That resulted in my losing the opportunity to share several photos I had taken the day before.
Sometimes, when I encounter unexpected snags, I end up losing it.
I didn’t lose it yesterday morning, though. What prevented me from losing it?
Blogging, which centers me wonderfully every morning.
Skills I’ve developed over decades of dealing with difficult and challenging situations.
Skills I’ve developed over years of working as a psychotherapist.
The inexplicable appearance of one and only one photo from the day before:
Note the last column, third item from the bottom, in that one photo from September 29 that chooses to be easily available to me, even now.
Yesterday, faithful reader Mark Bialczak prevented me from losing it about my photos with this comment about yesterday’s post:
And I choose to mildly suggest that when Apple won’t share the photos between them — I hate when that happens between my iPhone 6 and iPad Air — you could type all your text on your laptop, save draft, call the file up on your iPhone, and add the pictures last.
Thanks, Mark!
I’m guessing Mark chose to “mildly” suggest, there, because he’s read posts of mine when I’m on the verge of losing it about strong, rigid, and unhelpful suggestions from doctors and other experts.
Lest you think I’m losing it, now, I’d like to share those previously missing-in-action photos from two days ago.
Of all those photos from two days ago, which best represents “losing it” to you, and why? I promise I won’t lose it if you ignore those questions or this one: which photo are you most glad I did not lose?
Falling behind in my obligations and departing from my regular routine can put me on the verge of losing it, so here are the photos I took yesterday:
I was successful in not losing it, yesterday, as I was taking all those pictures in the midst of
pouring rain,
fog,
various gatherings of people and vehicles,
an appointment with my Primary Care Physician, where she told me that somebody at her hospital ended up losing their job when they took a selfie that included patient-sensitive material, and
other challenges.
However, I DID end up losing it, temporarily, after a 90-minute meeting at my son’s high school last night (not pictured) which focused on many stressful details and deadlines involved in his applying to colleges and for financial aid.
Personally, I believe it can help to lose it, every once in a while, in order to find it again.
What’s the “it” I’m talking about losing and finding again, in that last paragraph?
Composure.
Tranquility.
Control.
If I don’t include some music here and now, you’ll probably think I’m losing it, this morning.
I’m not.
Here’s a tune I heard on the radio yesterday (as people all around me were trying to not to lose it in rainy traffic):
Together, my son Aaron, my boyfriend Michael, and I support each other in not losing it, every day.
Losing-it-and-gaining-it-again thanks to Aaron, Michael, Mark, Dr. Laura Snydman, Ella Fitzgerald, Tom Waits, blue skies, my work, music, blogging, taking pictures, and everything in this world that helps me not lose it — including you!!!
be a thousand times grateful, every day, for this blog.
There are a thousand different ways I could celebrate this thousandth blogging day. For example, I could write a post that contains exactly a thousand words. Or, I could share a thousand memories from over the last 1000 days of blogging. Or, I could include a thousand links to past posts. Or, I could quote a thousand favorite comments from you, my readers.
However, after a thousand thoughts and feelings about this, I’d like to use my tried-and-true formula, here and now.
Therefore, today’s thousandth day post will include sharing less than a thousand pictures. Yesterday, I took almost a 1000 (base 2) x 1000 (base 2) photos, when I went into Boston to see a matinee of A Little Night Music with my son Aaron and spent the evening with Aaron and my boyfriend Michael.
I hope this thousandth post doesn’t take a thousand seconds to load, with these all these images:
Perhaps you have a thousand things you might say or ask about those photos. No matter what number of words it takes, consider leaving a comment to celebrate this thousandth post.
I bet if you took a thousand guesses, you wouldn’t come up with the song I’ve chosen for this “A Thousand Days” post.
Should I wait a thousand seconds while you guess?
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Times up! I’m sure you didn’t get it, because it includes a much higher number than a thousand.
“A Hundred Million Miracles” is the song that was in my head, yesterday, as I was thinking about this thousand-day post.
As that song says, a hundred million miracles happen EVERY DAY. Infinite thanks, to each and every one of you, for sharing some of those miracles with me.
If you’ve been binge watching this blog, you know that I like to define my terms.
binge-watch
[binj-woch]
verb (used with object)
1. to watch (multiple videos, episodes of a TV show, etc.) in one sitting or over a short period of time:
“We binge-watched two seasons of the show in two days.”
verb (used without object)
2. to engage in this activity.
Also, bingewatch, binge watch.
My 16-going-on-17-year-old son, Aaron, and I have been engaging in the activity of binge-watching this TV show:
Here’s one result of binge watching a series about compelling, manipulative, and smart schemers:
When I’m doing or saying something for my own self-interest, it’s difficult NOT to feel evil.
Aaron and I agree about that side effect of binge-watching House of Cards.
My boyfriend Michael — who has seen the original, UK version of House of Cards — plans to bingewatch the American House of Cards when Aaron and I are away, binge-watching all things California, next month.
Other things I’ve been binge watching lately include …
… the current season of American Idol (thanks to the recommendation of binge-watched and binge-watching blogger, Mark Bialczak) and …
… snow.
As you may have noticed, Oscar the cat likes to binge-watch me (among other things):
This week, I shall be binge-watching — and also be binge-watched by — doctors, nurses, and other health professionals a) where I work and b) at two other Boston-area hospitals, for lots more cardiac tests.
What do you think would be a good binge-listening accompaniment for this binge-watching post?
I’ve already used the theme music from House of Cards in this here recent post, so how about this?
(Live version of “Watching the Detectives” by Elvis Costello available for binge-watching here on YouTube.)
Many thanks to dictionary.com, Aaron, Kevin Spacey, Robin Wright, all the other talented people responsible for the fabulous binge-watching experience that is House of Cards,, Michael, binge-watching cat Oscar, my friend Carol (appearing in yesterday’s post and with Oscar, above),Mark Bialczak, American Idol,Elvis Costello, and YOU, for binge-watching or otherwise watching this blog.
three years ago, I was hired at a large Primary Care Practice of a major Boston teaching hospital to be a “Change Agent” (introducing more group work and more in-the-moment responsiveness to patients in emotional distress),
changes we choose can feel a lot different from changes that are thrust upon us,
change is a part of growth and healing,
noticable change — even good change — often evokes resistance in others,
change is scary for many human beings,
small changes can seem invisible, trivial, and unimportant, and
I’ve witnessed enormous changes starting with one, small change.
I think about change SO much, that the small change list above could be much, much larger. However, I’d like to change this post into a more visual one, now.
Today, on the first day of the new year, I’m considering this small change:
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Changing my profile picture, here at WordPress.
Now, you have to admit that’s a REALLY small, unimportant change — totally undeserving of a dramatic reveal like that, or of much time spent by you OR me.
Nevertheless, this is exactly how I choose to spend my first moments of 2015, here at WordPress.
Here are some candidates, for that particular change:
#1:
That’s Jane Austen, still my favorite writer after all these years, who appeared in this recent post I wrote, which — I think — has already created observable changes in me.
#2:
That’s one of my favorite T-shirts, from one of my favorite diners, which has appeared in several important (to me) “Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally” posts (including this, this, this, this, this, and that).
#3:
It’s another t-shirt, which I created a few years ago because I (and many experts) honestly believed I was the longest surviving person in the entire world with a cardiac pacemaker. I don’t wear that t-shirt any more. Why? Because, somebody — who found this blog and who got her first pacemaker before I got my first one in 1963 — contacted me. So, I changed about that, too.
#4:
That image appeared in this post, a year and a half ago. I found it, just now, by searching the word “chocolate” through all 730 of my previous, daily posts. Would anybody like to guess what number of posts that was? Personally, I wouldn’t change a thing about any of all that.
#5:
That was my profile photo from my first year of blogging. Returning to that might seem like the opposite of progress, but as I’ve described here, here, and elsewhere, we cycle through changes in our lives, often going over similar territory (but always moving up and onward).
#6:
That’s a nice photo, but it’s not me. Also, it’s never appeared in this blog before. It’s just a picture I saved a while ago before I got my hair cut by the fabulous Mia (previously appearing in this blog — according to my search for “Mia”– here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here).
#7:
That IS me, and it continues (while also substantially changing) some personal visual mysteries I’ve created so far, in this blog. But that’s a little scary for a profile picture, isn’t it? I hope I didn’t scare my then 15-year-old son Aaron — who was in the emergency room with a collapsed lung — by looking like that while I was with him there, back in June 2013. By the way, that black cat around my neck is a gift from my guy/boyfriend/partner/whatever-you-want-to-call-him, Michael.
#8:
That’s similar to my current profile picture, with two obvious changes — the tiger is wearing a hat and NOT wearing glasses (which I do need, to see clearly). I should also confess this: I’m not wearing that hat these days.
#9:
That photo continues the tiger theme, plus it shows two puppets very important to me, one I’ve had since I was a little girl. I inadvertently changed the larger puppet (named “Tiger”) when I placed his head on a lightbulb, so he could listen to me practice piano, many years ago.
