Asking for Help

Only in the last year of her life did Mom allowed us to push her around the Art Museum

One of my teeny tiny flaws is the inability to ask for help in a timely fashion. I usually wait until I am struggling, red in the face with exertion and completely frustrated before I'll finally ask for help. Then and only then, will I call out to Mr. G for assistance with a weed wacker that won't wack or start for that matter. Most recently this has surfaced because I can barely walk due to my wonky hip and finally agreed to see a surgeon. The hip replacement is inevitable and I'm not pleased but resigned to the obvious. So, I'm stubborn in my independence and not surprisingly this is a rather large club I belong to. In my work I've found many people who are also members. Since in humans this insistance on "I want to do it myself!" starts at age two, I believe it's not one of my finer qualities. Here's an example of someone else who is a proud member of the "I should be able do this myself" club.

I worked with an older gentleman, I'll call him Billy Bob*, several years ago. At the time BB was in his late sixties and he came to me with a complaint about his nearly ninety year old mother, "Priscilla*". BB had to put her in a local nursing home, as she was starting to lose her balance. "Priscilla's been the bain of my existence," he said. "Listen to this: I was at the nursing home, bending over to tie my shoe and she tried to correct how I was doing it! I was just fuming."  I said my usual, "tell me more," and BB fleshed out his tale. "I grew up as an only child with this critical, demanding 'Southern belle' and my father was a pious preacher."  BB still resented his upbringing and especially his Mother each day, even all of the days and years they live apart. I said, "what a pile of energy you've put into this resentment! Let's get busy letting go of that." Now that BB was attending to Priscilla on a daily basis, BB was going to have to learn some new strategies ASAP.

"You've come to the right place," I said, "my Mother was a critical person also and I believe I have a strategy that could work for you. First of all, you're on the right track, asking for help will enable you to broaden your options for responding to your Mom." Frankly he looked almost ashamed that he was asking for help and that seemed hauntingly familiar to me. "Secondly, the key word here is responding, you've spent a lifetime reacting. So, tell me what do you and Mom do together?" A spark of recognition flashed in his eyes, and he said, "I realize though I love the many women, the only one I don't have any fun with is my mother."

I learned early on with my Mom that I had to address the criticism in a lighthearted but firm manner. Then the rest was easy for the two of us, we forged an indelible bond over Scrabble and books. At my encouragement, Billy Bob devised a new plan and very soon became one of those people who only late in life grows to appreciate the mothers that they got.

My strategy for him was simplistically obvious: I said, "Be aware of how amusing southern belles can be and then report all of the amusing stories to me and your friends." Needless to say, her behavior was over the top, one of the best descriptions of comedy. Since this man had a wicked sense of humor, what happened next was really fun.

Billy Bob began squiring his mother all around our small town. Priscilla proceeded to run at the mouth with her outrageous demands, observation and requests. Guess what? People were delighted by her. "Here she is almost 90, and she's flirtatious and treats everyone as if they're about to do her bidding." He was laughing as he told me this. Shopkeepers, waitresses, his friends, his neighbors, joined in the fun and really enjoyed her. This also unleashed a joyous appreciation in my client. In the end, Billy Bob was dear, kind and tickled to be with Priscilla, an attitude he kept for the last four years of her life. Priscilla died happy and Billy Bob was touched and proud of those last years. He learned to let go of who he imagined she was [a bitchy demanding crank who was purposefully trying to piss him off] and learned to appreciated her finer qualities: love, loyalty, the sharp mind, the biting sense of humor and yes, the adoration of a son who she kept trying to 'tweak' to perfection until her last breath. Amen.

I am so grateful that I learned to find my mother amusing and  I also was joyous in her company to boot.

The moral of this story for all of the Billy Bobs out there: it is so worth it to ask for help, it's expeditious.

Amuch loved and appreciated Mother who could be over the top sometimes

*Obviously these are pseudonyms and I mixed up some of the facts of this case with others.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved.

They'll Have Nun of It

All religions are the same: basically guilt, with different holidays.          Cathy Ladman

As the church sinks slowly...

To all things clergic, I am allergic.             Alexander Woollcott

Well, they've done it again, made me laugh at the news. The Vatican seems to have a talent for the absurd. The Vatican is directing the Catholic clergy to again attack the nuns, this time for writing a book. The biggest irony: it's a book on sexual ethics. What's so funny about that, you say? The Vatican has wimped out from the problems of sexual ethics and grossly mishandled thousands of cases of sexual abuse by the clergy for decades. Then they turn around and pounce on a Catholic nun, Sister Margaret A. Farley, who is trying to bring the church into the 21st century. Her book [which I hope will now make it into the bestseller list] is Just Love: A Framework for Sexual Ethics. She modestly states, "It was not to be a book about the current official teachings of Catholic church." No, it's more loving than what is currently being taught by the Vatican. It embraces all people, women, men, gay, bi, etc. In my humble opinion, it is imperative to remember that the criticism leveled at her is the voice of old, mostly Italian men and definitely not God. Let me also add: these are supposedly asexual men [one can only hope]. Remember Jesus dictum was, love one another. Does this sound like love to you?

Before I go on, so as not to repeat myself, please read my post of May 21, 2012 on "A Great Danger to the Church." This focusing on the good Sisters and the Girl Scouts and the Hippies [!] is all such a colossal waste of time and energy when the church could be doing so much good around the world. The world needs help. But they are poor little lambs who have lost their way, baa, baa, baa. They are in need of a good shepherdess to guide them and I think Sister Margaret A. Farley with her bravery and forthrightness is just the one to do the job. All in favor, say Aye! All those opposed--- well you've already had your say, even if it was just keeping silent in the face of intolerable behavior towards gays, women,  and the poor.


No surprise that the Church has become big business, this has been happening for centuries. To be fair that is true of all of the major religions and I believe  it's time to start hitting the most egregious of the intolerant churches in their pocket books. This may be the only way to allow our voices be heard in protest.

The Catholic Church has a tradition of being a business

Let's all join in and at least make fun of the pious people populating the Papacy who are pooping on women predominantly.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Engulfed and Embraced by a Book

Magazines all too frequently lead to books and should be regarded by the prudent as the heavy petting of literature.                                              Fran Lebowitz

I just got out of the hospital. I was in a speed-reading accident. I hit a bookmark.             Steven  Wright

I actually feel sorry for people who don't like to read. As my own sainted mother used to say, "I don't know what I'd do with out my books," and I quite agree. She loved a good book more than just about anything and when she read a book she particularly loved she often would start it all over again after she finished the first time. I know she did this with Charles Frazier's  Cold Mountain, so I forced myself to read the entire book even though it was grim, grimmer and grimmest. Happily my son gave me Charles Frazier's Nightwoods  and it was excellent. Dark but not grim. I hate unrelenting grim. I've been caught up in a good string of books lately. I know that with some in put this can continue. So, I want to know your four favorite books and why they are your favorites. OK, two favorites...

She is too fond of books, it has turned her brain.     Louisa May Alcott

I have this rule about books that I might have shared before: if I've read around 100 pages and believe if I lost the book that I wouldn't care, I won't finish it. I abhor being trapped between the pages of a book whose characters I can't admire in some way. Why have the thoughts of awful people in your head? For me, there has to be an element of love or respect, or again, why bother. These characters in my books may even have grotesque flaws-- like the ones in the last book I finished, Heft  by Liz Moore. One of the main characters was almost agoraphobic and grossly obese, the other was a teenager stuck with an alcoholic mother. I grew to loved them and Liz Moore's writing. I actually missed the characters when the book ended, gold standard for me of a good book.

Am I simplistic in my thinking that if everyone read good literature we'd have a smarter, more compassionate world? I know that there's lots of trash out there but at least people would be thinking if they were reading. At this point most households are viewing and not living their lives, or worse they're living other's lives. Isn't that the fascination with "reality TV?" What a marvellous scam! First of all they don't even pay the participants and then somehow they con huge numbers of people to view this nonsenses...

When all the while, hidden in the recesses of libraries [thank you, thank you Andrew Carnegie] and bookstores all over this land are treasures waiting to be discovered. Batteries not necessary, electricity need only after sunset. As Tex said, "sober, bored and thirsty, are three of my biggest fears," if he had the right books he would never suffer from boredom. One fear solved forever.

Speaking of never suffering from boredom, once when I was visiting Mom in Milwaukee, we went into a bookstore and there on display were books that had been marked down. Among the books was a trilogy by Mom's favorite author, Robertson Davies, the price slashed by two thirds. Mom said, "look at that! That marvellous author being marked down like that!" and she went over and raised a fuss with the owner---"how dare you do that, this is one of our best living authors today!" she said. I was laughing though somewhat embarrassed and hustled her out of there fast. But it still tickles me to think of Mom doing battle with a bookstore owner for Robertson Davies' honor. It's got to be what's bred in the bone...

In the Aerie, a favorite chair, a treasured book.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Swept Away! It Wasn't My Fault!

The biggest excuse makers and whiners that I have dealt with in my practice are the men who have been arrested for domestic violence. Here is a typical, worst case scenario: when men who've lost control of their tempers are confronted about this in therapy, they usually blame their wife or children.  He'd say, "She started it, she asked me about my job when I got home from work and she knows that I don't like that."  I'd say, "So you hit her, in front of the children?" "Yeah, but I wouldn't have if she'd only shut up and leave me alone about the job." "Not so fast buddy, your feelings are your slaves," I'd say despite his murderous look my way. Sometimes counseling is not for the faint of heart. But as you know, my vow is to "tell the truth and run."

In the 1980's I was doing l lot of work with the domestic violent offenders and their families and also I was doing workshops with my therapist pal Laurie. We wanted solutions, not just talk and so we'd delight the participants with many therapy tips. The title of the workshops was "Self Parenting" and our purpose was to help the participants do just that, parent themselves in a loving, mature fashion. The participants at this workshop needed to recover from their childhoods or other traumas and face life wisely. Laurie and I found that often many of these people were so stunted from their childhoods, that they'd embrace the roles they fell into as children and stay hopelessly stuck. [See the post on these roles "The Road To Well Is Paved Wit Good Intentions" of  May 6, 2012] We had many remedies for breaking free from old stuck patterns. We loved watching our participants make the great "ah-ha" connections in a mere week end. Of the many tips we gave them, the one tip that elicited the most discussion and controversy was--"your feelings are your slaves." "Huh?" they'd say, "what does that mean?"

Many of us were raised in households where feelings either weren't permitted or they lorded over the house causing all kinds of fear and chaos. "Your feelings are your slaves" means precisely that you can choose how you're going to respond to whatever life hands you, not just react. [Or more truthfully, overreact] To many this was an eye opener and an entirely new concept, respond? not react? We were my no means urging people to suppress all feelings, nor were we suggesting that they were to indulge every last feeling. Instead it's a studied and practiced method, to size up the situation in seconds, take a deep breath and respond in a genuine helpful manner.

Responding to whatever life dishes out, of course,varies wildly to the circumstances. If you've just heard that a loved one has died, you might indulge your grief and throw yourself on the ground and wail like a baby. However, if your children are in the room you might not have the luxury of doing this since it would scare the pants off of them. The mature response is to be there for the child and do your grieving in a more measured way. It truly sucks, but that's life. [I give myself as an example of this, with the post on "Be Careful What You Ask For" of 4/19/11.]

There is not a more romantic notion than being "swept away," a veritable slave to one's feelings. I am here to report that many, many clients have used this notion to justify having an affair. The very unglamorous answer to this very human attraction is to first level with your partner [more, "tell the truth and run" therapy]. Then examine your conscience and decide if the ugly truth is that there's something is wrong in your life or the marriage.

There isn't a more blissful escape from reality than falling in love. [Most of the time it's really falling in lust.] Granted, there are a few exceptions, but most of the people who are having affairs are trying to change their lives. What do they choose to do? They start by blowing it up.  Too bad, and unfortunately too common, there are people in their wake, and they too are "swept away" in the explosion.

Desire and fear hold us in bondage to time, and detachment breaks the bond.                  Simone Weil

Once a long time ago I saw a greeting card that had an enormous foot on its cover. I opened it up and all it said was, "it's bigger than the both of us." Sometimes this is true, someone has married the wrong person, both are miserable or unsuited to each other. Then, someone appears on the horizon who is seemingly perfect, someone who will solve all their problems, and this feels---well, bigger than the both of you. The tendency is to immediately give into being swept away. Ah, swept away with all of those fabulous endorphins racing your through your brain, bliss. STOP, this is when, in my humble opinion, counseling comes in handy. Instead of reacting and acting foolishly,  you need to respond to this attraction as if it's a crisis. Talk to someone you trust and sort out the good, the bad and the ugly. Take a time out and take the time to take responsibility for all of your feelings and make your decisions based on love, kindness and loyalty. Stay awake and aware, know what you know and see what you see, then come to a decision with consciousness.

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you,

Don't go back to sleep.

You can ask for what you really want

Don't go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill

where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and opened,

Don't go back to sleep.

Rumi     13th century

susansmagicfeather copyright 2012 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved