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Anger
Angry Moments, Week Thirty in the New Abnormal
It’s a beautiful morning today. There is a light breeze, the sun is out but not scorching, and the sky is clear. The temperature dropped so it feels simply delightful. I left my apartment before 7:30 am so that I could get in a destination walk to and from Trader Joe’s to pick up a few groceries for the week. My plan was to be in and out before the Saturday rush. I was walking on the east side of the street, which is less sunny, thus cooler, in the mornings. When I approached 68th Street I was in back of someone else with a cart who had a similar plan at Trader Joe’s. She kept trying to get around a woman with her dog whose leash straddled the entire sidewalk. When I got close enough I said, “Excuse me, we want to pass you and your dog.” She didn’t move. I was less polite in my next attempt. “You’re taking up the whole sidewalk, can you move so we can pass?” “Fuck you” she said as she barely made room for us. As I made my way around her dog, I said “You don’t have to take the entire sidewalk.” My tone sounded as annoyed as I felt. Even though I had been happy to be out and about on a glorious day, I quickly turned into a grouch. Again, she repeated, “Fuck You!” This time louder so there would be no mistaking her ire. I didn’t look back, and I’m not proud to say that I then gave her the finger with my back to her. Only in retrospect could I think clearly and realize she’s not having a good morning. Did I need to add to that?
An Anniversary, Week Twenty-Seven in the No Longer New Abnormal
It’s something of an irony that my and my husband’s 27th wedding anniversary is on the 27th week of this year. I like coincidences like that. When the stars align, I feel good all over. Twenty-Seven years is probably the longest commitment to anything I’ve done in my life. I like variety, so in the past I could do something for a while and then I’d move on. I took a very different tactic for our marriage. While Larry is someone who likes routines and enjoys what he knows, I like to try new things, preferring to being adventurous rather than staying in place. Though we were a bit older than our contemporaries when we got married, I was 38 to Larry’s 45, we had a lot to learn about relationships, particularly long-term relationships.
Letting Go, Week Eighteen in the No Longer New Abnormal
When I was younger and I upset someone, I would replay the incident over and over again. I found it intolerable that someone would be upset or angry with me. It felt devastating. I would apologize again and again, becoming a nuisance. Sometimes people would be more upset with my groveling than they were with the original upset. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. It felt like anything I did that hurt others was unforgivable. There was no fun to be had.
Take Care, Week Twelve in the No Longer New Abnormal
This past week I heard of the death of two people from my past. I heard from three people presently who are ill, and we are all hearing about too many in our world who are in pain, who are suffering, or who have experienced significant losses. Life is precious.
I Like Quotes, Week One of The No-Longer-New-Abnormal
“Just do what works for you, because there will always be someone who thinks differently.” Michelle Obama
I love quotes. When I first started my psychotherapy private practice in the mid-90s before there were iPhones and Facebook, I had an answering machine, and the recording included quotes on there. I changed them monthly or so, and it felt nice. But I was a new therapist and I wanted to do things right. It felt right to me. Nonetheless, I was told by a senior therapist, one who I respected, that I might want to rethink having something so personal on my outgoing message. The common practice was to be as neutral as possible. Her thinking was that a chosen quote could possibly be sharing unnecessary private information about me or, it might be misconceived.
Finding Peace, The Fifty-First Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
This week I’m sharing some past sunsets. Seeing sunrises and sunsets makes me smile. Sunsets remind me that nothing is permanent. And sunrises are an apt metaphor that we always have a chance at a new beginning. Both sentiments give me some peace. And we could all use peace.
Ahhh, Naps, The Forty-Eighth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal
Napping was my top priority this past week. They were usually twenty to thirty minutes max. They made a tremendous difference in my mood. I was able to get through the week with a greater capacity for patience. I had more room for the things that usually get under my skin, like loud car horns in grid lock, or the annoying overspill from packages protected with shredded paper or other messy stuffing.
Spilled Coffee, The Forty-Seventh Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
I spilled my coffee earlier this week. And I then let out a loud string of expletives to vocalize my frustration. I cleaned up the mess and then rushed to work. Not the way I had wanted to start my day. My reaction, though provoked, made it clear that I need some down time. It may not be the vacation that I’ve fantasized, but even an evening in, or a task free afternoon will do at this point.
Nature Speaks, The Forty-Sixth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
Autumn colors fire up Central Park. I had the good fortune of walking through the park on several occasions this past week. I was reminded that this season represents the last of the foliage as the trees and plants prepare for the winter. Following winter comes a renewal as Spring brings greenery and flowers to enjoy. Just seeing the colorful trees brought hope.
Daylight Savings Time, The Forty-Fourth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
I voted early yesterday. I like my councilwoman and I wanted to keep her in office. What I don’t get to vote for is the abolishment of daylight savings time. We turned the clocks back last night, and ostensibly we got an extra hour of sleep. Then in April we “spring” ahead losing that hour. I say, no thank you.
Happy Halloween, The Forty-Third Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
Some weeks are harder than others. Having heard from a number of people this past week was just such a week. I can certainly include myself in that mix. For that reason, I am going to don a virtual mask, making this a quick post, while wishing you all a Happy Halloween. Here are some city pics of the season.
Self-Care Tips:
- Give yourself a break. If things are hard, find ways to let go of the normal routines to provide the energy needed for whatever is essential.
- Dark humor that does not hurt anyone can even help in hard times.
- If you celebrate, enjoy Halloween. If you don’t celebrate, lean into JOMO, the joy of missing out.
Happy Halloween, The Forty-Third Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
Some weeks are harder than others. Having heard from a number of people this past week was just such a week. I can certainly include myself in that mix. For that reason, I am going to don a virtual mask, making this a quick post, while wishing you all a Happy Halloween. Here are some city pics of the season.
Self-Care Tips:
- Give yourself a break. If things are hard, find ways to let go of the normal routines to provide the energy needed for whatever is essential.
- Dark humor that does not hurt anyone can even help in hard times.
- If you celebrate, enjoy Halloween. If you don’t celebrate, lean into JOMO, the joy of missing out.
Those Who Inspire Us, The Forty-Second Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal
’ve been watching Dear… on Apple TV. I found it by accident. While looking for another program a small square with Selena Gomez’s image caught my eye. I clicked on her framed face and came upon Dear… I watched the 30-minute segment and was immediately hooked. The series features individuals in the public eye, some athletes, actors, writers, or activists, as they engage with letters of those who have been inspired by them The featured famous person’s influence has helped to change the letter writers’ lives.
I Am a Jewish Psychotherapist, The Forty-First Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
Do I speak of the unspeakable? This past week marks a tragic low in inhumane acts. I cannot get my head around it. As a Jewish psychotherapist I am in a similar position as I was when we faced the pandemic. I am going through something that I am also hearing from my clients. The sadness, along with so many other emotions, have been omnipresent this past week.
Saying Nothing, The Thirty-Ninth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal
“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” That was a common idiom of our mother’s lexicon. She lived true to that statement. Even when she attempted to comment on something she disapproved of, she did her best to soften it. As a teen, I often was asked the question, “Janet, do you think that’s the most complementary outfit?“ Or it could have been make-up, pants, hair style or any other appearance-related observation. As a sensitive teen I was crushed no matter how much she tried to say it diplomatically.
Hurt by Half, The Thirty-Sixth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
I was ten years old. The person who I had considered my best friend was in the Stafford School auditorium with her class, and I was with my class for a school-wide assembly. Assemblies felt important. Usually the principal spoke. He was a tall, somber man who communicated in hushed tones lending an atmosphere of solemnity to childhood gatherings.
Behind the Facade, The Thirty-Third Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
Growing up my mother and her mother were sticklers for good manners. I made a point of saying please and thank you. I was afraid they would view me as rude, and I didn’t want that moniker. My grandmother would point out other children who might have been louder than us, or publicly whiny, and she’d use those children as cautionary tails of behavior we were to stringently avoid.
Mundane Day, The Thirty-First Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
What am I doing this weekend? Nothing special and everything essential. In an Instagram world of glamourous posts, my weekend is the antithesis of awesome. I started early to ensure I could easily access the washing machines needed for the weekly laundry. Luckily for me, it was a ghost town before 7 am, and I peacefully and quietly secured my machines and loaded them from the full hampers.
Lost in Brooklyn, The Twenty-Ninth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal
I set out to go to The Brooklyn Museum to see the Africa Fashion exhibit. I had intended to see it twice before but got waylaid, so my determination to get there yesterday was fierce. My plan was to slowly jog in Prospect Park getting out at the arch and walking the few blocks to the museum. Once I made it to Prospect Park at an unfamiliar entrance, I opened up Maps on my iPhone and set off.
Ai Instillation, The Twenty-Eighth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal
I was tired, it was hot, and I was happy to be at MOMA, the Museum of Modern Art, on West 53rd Street. The galleries were crowded, but I took my time enjoying new exhibitions and old favorites. After the slow perusal of four floors, I was spent. But I still had almost an hour before our dinner reservation down the block.