Sep 08, 2013 by Janet Zinn

I am writing a blog post because I have a list of Shoulds, and posting on my blog is on the list.  It will be a short post, after all, I have a lot of shoulds.  I was supposed to get some paperwork done for my practice, but that's been on my list for weeks now.  This weekend is the hard deadline, so I'm certain that will get done before I hit the pillow tomorrow night.  Some shoulds stay on the list, and I know I should let them go, but I'm not ready to quite yet.  Just like I should get rid of clothes that linger in my closet years since I've worn them last.  But they each have...

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Aug 18, 2013 by Janet Zinn

I’m zipping down Park Avenue.  Now I’m on 54th Street trying to cross during a grid lock.  I glare at the driver of the black SVU, as I choose which end of the car is safest to pass.  Okay, the front, I think.  There’s barely enough room from his bumper to the Volvo in front, but I make it past only to get to the other side where there are fur junior executives side by side blocking the side walk.  I’m going at a clipped pace, and I don’t like to be slowed down.  I wait for the guy on his lunch hour to pass going the other way, then I aggressively move past the four juniors and go right...

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Jul 27, 2013 by Janet Zinn

“Ooh, Ooh,” I moaned with my hand raised high, wishing for Mrs. Mishaw to call on me. “Silence. I do not call on anyone who is making noise,” Mrs. Mishaw said in her snipped, stern tone.  She was wearing a straight knit skirt, in brown, of course, a starched blue blouse with a peter pan collar with darker blue piping, and thick stockings with brown, medium-heeled  pumps.  The heels clicked on the over buffed wooden floors as she went up and down the aisles with her pointer.  Always with her pointer. She did not call on me.  It was only when I didn’t raise my hand and hadn’t been paying attention that she called my name to shame me in front of...

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May 31, 2013 by Janet Zinn

I received a message last week that a client wouldn't make it to her psychotherapy session since she was sick. I felt as if she was lying. She had a lot going on, probably felt overwhelmed but couldn't say that. Being sick seems like a more legitimate excuse. I get a lot of lies in my line of work. You'd think that people want to bear their souls, tell the truths they can't tell others. And, that happens often, but there are always lies hidden amid the truths. I am not offended that they fib. Why should I be? If they lie in their lives they'll lie to me. ...

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