Blog
Carl Shurz
Not Boring, Week Ten in the No Longer New Abnormal
As a psychotherapist I’ve noticed that so many people in and out of my office will say, “I know this is boring, but…” Traditionally therapists don’t respond, we only listen. I’m more interactive, so I respond to the statement that they think what they have to say is boring. I’m curious. I don’t find what they tell me boring. But I want to know how they see it themselves. The subject matter is secondary to their perceptions and experiences of living their lives. I am fascinated by that. Luckily my profession affords me to privilege of hearing their insights and opinions regarding their lives.
Parts of Ourselves, Week Seven in the No Longer New Abnormal
“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent”
Victor Hugo
Yesterday I was in sweats, my hair, stiff, frizzy, and dry while getting paperwork done in-between laundry loads. Nothing glamorous about the day. I was comfortable and perhaps a bit tired from a late night. The late night was very unexpected. I had a subscription to the New York Pops at Carnegie Hall. It has turned out to be a marvelous series. On Friday night I, along with a sold-out house, thoroughly enjoyed an evening of Gershwin music featuring the vocalist, Montego Glover and the pianist, Lee Musiker.
Encouraging Compassion, The Fifty-Second Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
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.
Forgiveness, The Fiftieth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal
As the year approaches its end, forgiveness is on my mind. I find that forgiveness is a process, though I used to imagine it was a one and done affair. I earnestly believed that I could forgive someone and then I’d be okay with them. I found that not to be the case. It was easier to forgive if the person made changes. Meaning they either stopped the offending behavior, or they started acting in a way they had avoided prior.
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.
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.
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.
What is Self-Care? The Fortieth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
When I was growing up in suburban New Jersey I didn’t know anything about self-care. The first experience I had that felt like self-care was when my mom treated me to a facial at Strawbridge and Clothier. They were having a special promotion. Although I couldn’t control my weigh, we could try to tackle my acne this one time.
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.
Rest & Activity, The Twenty-Fifth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal
Goodbye Grumpiness, The Twenty-Second Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
I noticed that by the end of my work week I was short on compassion. My go to was frustration, impatience, or barely disguised anger. It was simple things. I was missing paperwork that had been promised me. A pair of reading glasses broke. And then there were a string of simple annoyances.
Mother's Day Ambivalence, The Nineteenth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal
I, like many, have mixed feelings about Mother’s Day.
As a daughter I knew that I loved my mom, and I also yearned for her acceptance, spending far too much of my babysitting money to bask in the momentary approval of an expensive Mother’s Day gift. I’d set up Arlene’s Kitchen, honoring our mom. It was a made-up restaurant in our home with hand-written menus for the family. Nervous about what I might cook, I’d prep all the possibilities from eggs, any type of French toast or bagels & lox. As down home as those brunches were, they were followed by the certainty that my clean-up techniques would be met with inevitable disapproval. No one could make a countertop shine like my mom.
A Full Moon, The Eighteenth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal
It was a full moon this week. I love looking up on a clear night and viewing the magical, mystical moon between the high rises. Ever since I was a child I’ve found the moon an enchantress. Myths have their place, and for many years I counted on myths to justify my outsized love of a full moon. In times of feeling invisible I felt seen by the moon.
Let's Do Better, The Fifteenth Week of the Second Year in the New Abnormal
I came home late last night after seeing a beautifully moving theater piece by Suzan-Lori Parks. Retrieving our mail, I saw a broken glass and a brick on the lobby carpet. Apparently, a group of teens were told to leave the area while smoking. So one of them in anger threw a brick through the window to show ‘them.” It created more work for the porter and super who had to clean up and repair on their weekend off, when they were nowhere near the incident.
Tattle Tales, The Fourteenth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal
I grew up with three siblings. If you grew up with siblings, as I did, you are familiar with the age-old enterprise of tattling. My younger sister, Susan, now Chova Sara, was the tattletale. She was the one that thought it important to report to my parents, usually our mom, whatever misadventures we were enacting. When I was six to her four, she ran to our mom to say I wasn’t letting her play with my Barbies. This was true, but only because she cut their hair and drew on them with crayons. Nonetheless, I had to release more dolls to her based on “fairness.” This made no sense to me, but she got what she wanted, and it spurred her on for years.
Dashed Plans, The Thirteenth Week in the Second Year of the New Abnormal
I am a planner. Though I am open to spontaneous experiences, I usually rely on my calendar to settle into the day. In recent months I have had to change plans a good number of times. Often, I’ve enjoyed folding the new into what I had expected. But this last week too many plans changed, and my equilibrium is off. My sense of self along with my comfort levels are being tested.