The Safe Circle

Barbara: The other day, Deb and I were invited to join a small circle of women—there were 9 of us—spearheaded by Certified Therapist and Life Coach, Anne Pustil. Check out her website here and her blog here.  Anne is a charming and sincere listener/therapist, and she’d gathered us together because she hoped we might share some of the linchpin problems we face as women in midlife (yes, Deb did crack that the term “midlife” implies that we’re all going to live into our hundreds! Anyway…). Anne will be conducting several “hitting the wall in midlife” group sessions for women in her hometown of Vancouver, as well as over the phone for those who are interested but don’t live in the vicinity. 

As you guys know, Deb and I are all about the “let’s talk honestly about what we face every day.” That’s why we’re here, right? But what we both—what we ALL—found fascinating at this get-together (in a beautiful home, eating fabulous food!) is that despite our ongoing conversations and examinations, there is still and always a new question to ask, a new perspective to consider, and another, previously unconsidered, tool that might help resolve our issues. And while the 2½ hours flew by (several of us had to leave by a certain time), there were so many interesting tangents and thoughts, far beyond what I think even Anne expected (by that I mean, we often went “off topic”, but whoa, the off-topics were stimulating), that I think we could’ve easily chatted for hours more.

It got me to thinking that, as much as I think we need to keep chatting here (and other places like this), there is something to be said for the real-life get-together where your responses can be fluid and mutable, where you can talk much longer than your poor fingers can type, where you can speak without editing yourself (because, let’s face it, when you write you can tune and fine-tune what you say). Because sometimes the “messy”, non-edited words that you speak in real conversations can carry kernels of other resonant and important, maybe half-formed, ideas; the Freudian slips, as it were, that will lead to other extraordinary epiphanies or revelations.

Anne encouraged us to feel that we were in a safe zone at the get-together, and that our “secrets” wouldn’t go beyond the circle of discussion. Then she prompted us with a few succinct and loaded questions: “What do you love about this age?” “What do you regret?” “What do you wish you’d been told?” (etc.) I bet you can imagine, much like our Five Crazy Things post, or any question that makes you examine your own (at the moment) truth, each of Anne’s questions could evoke a whole evening’s discussion in and of themselves, with as many viewpoints and life-experiences as there are individuals.

I’m sure Deb and I will springboard off some of the more compelling subjects we touched on here in the blog, subjects that will hopefully prompt all of us to more discussion, but I would also like to propose something else to you: would you consider—no matter what your age or sex—having such an evening (or lunch, as ours was, or coffee or tea...) specifically dedicated to broad analysis? Getting together with a few people that you think might be open to it, and asking some basic trigger questions? After all, and even despite the fear that can come with being open, “knowledge is power”. And the knowledge we are all most equipped to search out, the knowledge that increases our life quality and sense of empowerment, the knowledge that can lead to some inner peace (even for a brief moment), the ultimate knowledge that we are singularly equipped to absolutely accept, is, of course, self-knowledge.

Deb: It was wonderful, and the reason it most resonated with me is the fact that it always shocks me to learn that the people who seem the most together and most confident share my fears and concerns too. I likened the afternoon to an emotional/psychological clothing swap: you bring something to the table (in this case a piece of knowledge or a coping skill) and that piece is useful to someone else and, by the same token, you take away some gem of information that the other person brings that she may no longer need. I wish when I was going through menopause I had had the wherewithal to bring my friends together to talk and share. Doing otherwise sometimes made me feel alone and isolated. The same applies to any life bump I think. It’s nice to know that other people are feeling the same way you are. And it actually can help! Ultimately what the get-together left me feeling again is that women are fantastic! That was my best takeaway.

                                                                                                                              

Therapy Browner

Deb: I am happy to report that at the ripe old age of 57, (COLIN JUST SCREAMED “57???” ), I have found another thing I excel at. Therapy. I am not only good at it, I am a therapy browner. When I was in grade five, the smartest girl in the class would dress up to get her report card. Party dress. Really. I, on the other hand, tried hard on report card day to look as much as I could like my parents’ signatures.  At this stage in the game I have given up on the dream of academic prowess. My academia fantasies are all drawn from my anniversary copy of Love Story.

I have gone into therapy to help me with the pain, issues, guilt and stress around my parents’ transition in life. I am a very in touch with my feelings kind of person, as you may have noticed, so one would think that I would serve as the perfect therapist for me. But try as I might, I could not find my old psychology degree anywhere, so I thought it was best to call in the big guns. And by that, of course I mean a registered legal therapist.  What therapy has reminded me (yes I’ve been there before) is that the “physician heal thyself” does not work even for the most introspective among us.

I go in to my sessions knowing exactly what I want to talk about, focus on, target. One question or comment from my therapist can take me down a whole new path of discovery. It is a kooky journey. It is sometimes painful, but it is always freeing. And always uplifting. Because it reminds me that I can always change. I can change it right up to the year, week, or minute before I die. And my therapy sessions are little treats. I never have to rely on my dogs to eat my therapy homework as I am always excited to get to it. I have been applying these lessons to everyday life and I am nailing it, I am kicking its ass. I AM therapy. 

It’s funny how I grew up thinking about the concept of therapy. Growing up in the 50’s was all about “what happens in this house, stays in this house”. The idea of therapy was for weaklings, for the rich, and for the rich weaklings. A “quality” person would take pride in conquering one’s own problems in the privacy of one’s own head. They would pull themselves up by the bootstraps and get on with it. “Be grateful for what you have. Stop whining.”

When I first went to therapy I felt a little like that. As soon as I walked through the door, I felt I had failed myself. I was walking through this door because I could not handle it myself.  It was like when I first got a cleaning lady. I did not grow up with one. Well, actually we did—called her Mom.  But for years after getting a cleaning lady myself, I would still leap to my feet when she came into the room, hiding my Instyle magazine under a cushion. Partly it was my shame of allowing myself this gift of help. And partly it was the thought that I could bloody well do it myself, as I was brought up to believe. The same with therapy. But after I started therapy, I realized that it was my own emotional intelligence that brought me there. I was clearly an emotional genius!

My problem however is that once I get started, I don’t want to leave. Previously, my therapist had to politely kick me out. She said, and I quote, “You know at this point you are paying me good money for us to sit here, talk and laugh.” My response was that I had hoped she hadn’t noticed. It is nice to delete your trash with someone who did not have to hear it as a friend, who was expecting to spend a fun evening with you.

And part of me wants to stay because I am a great student. Top of the class. First time in a long time I have done well in school and I cannot wait to get back there! Sadly, I am left wanting for a gold star or even a seasonal sticker. I do feel that the “professional” therapists are lacking in that area. No stickers, no stars, no chewy candies of any sort. But I know I deserve a star. And so does my therapist. I am rockin’ it! Sticker or not, we’re not fooling anybody.

Barbara: Well, Deb, you certainly get a gold star from me (I’ll bring one on our next coffee date)! And, while it’s been years since I went to therapy, and while I did accumulate a fair collection of real honest-to-goodness gold stars in my childhood until I started to … not (cough, math, cough, history, cough, chemistry), I totally relate to your sense of excited accomplishment from the School of Couch.

I had what I like to call my midlife consciousness crises when I hit my late 30s. Nothing had turned out the way I’d imagined and everything felt wonky, false, contrived, exhausting. I finally realized I needed some help. Smartest thing I ever did. I never understand people who rail against therapy, who are insulted and demeaned by the very thought of it. People who, in fact, would probably benefit a really really lot from it.

But I—get this—actually have a little bonus point for you all here, a brownie point beyond my full endorsement of Deb’s charming post. I just finished a wonderful book called How the Brain Changes Itself by Dr. Norman Doidge—it was, in fact, so interesting, I was going to blog about. I probably still will, but one of the many impressive points he makes is that because all our bad habits, emotional and otherwise, come out of the basic science that when our “neurons fire together, they wire together” (ie: I’m sad, I need to eat; something goes wrong, I feel guilty, and on and on), and in order to undo that network (which you CAN do: “the wires that fire apart, wire apart”), you need a kind of systematic mental exercise, like push-ups for the brain. Therapy gives us that exercise. A good therapist will illuminate your weak spots and remind you of them over and over so you can breathe away from the habitual old responses … until the neurons have, quite possibly, finally, wired apart.

I congratulate you, Deb, and I wish you continued success. You are pure gold all the way!