Cubs Win!

I watched most of the games, I'm embarrassed to say. Therapists should go home after work, tend to the people in their families (second shift), have a quiet, newsworthy, intimate dinner with someone they love. Be an example to the community. Don't shame-faced tell their friends, Yeah, at the end of the day. . . I watch the Cubs.

But who wants to talk to anyone, in the evening? We want to change into sweats, turn on the TV, and maybe, just maybe, if there's one on, watch the game.

There's a knock on the door, it could be a friend who wants to power walk. Would this not be the better thing to do? No, it would not, you gently explain. You see, the Cubs are going to the World Series this year. You'll see. And this game counts.

Then you go back to  it,  and during commercials toss up a huge salad, maybe bake a potato, check your phone, texts, email. You might even return some calls, straighten out drawers, even a closet. You might do an entire aquarium water change, all the while, the game is on, and the volume is up, unless you had to mute it to actually talk.

It was hard for me, when my mother was alive. She wanted to talk every day, but mostly, she wanted to listen to me, telling her about my day. If the game was on, not so much of a problem. That you can do, watch a baseball game, while talking to your mother.

At the end of the game the guy who is calling the game, maybe Pat Hughes, Ron Cooper, Jim Deshaies or Len Kasper, would shout out at the top of his lungs, CUBS WIN!!!!!!

What a summer this has been for Cub fans. You'd see one, a fan wearing a hat, maybe while waiting for a bus. You would nod and say, This year for sure!! And both of you smile.

THE STORY.

I registered for a conference, the Council for Social Work Education's Annual Program Meeting (APM16) in Atlanta, (CSWE16), had scheduled my flight for Wednesday night, last night, months ago. It never occurred to me to check the schedule for the World Series. And wouldn't you know, the last game, the most important game of the year, the deciding game of the World Series, would begin at 7 pm, when FD and I would be in the air.

So I downloaded all kinds of apps to stream it, and told myself the flight would be late and I could see the game in the airport, but nothing, nothing helped change this most powerless, angry, futile feeling, that we would not see that game, and seeing it in the repeat would not be satisfy.

My son-in-law invited us over to watch the game and I had to tell him I'd be in the air, and he texted back and said, "You're daughter just called you a loser. CUBS!!"

It woke me up. Sometimes someone has to speak the truth.

The backstory is that I had been navigating the app for the conference for a few days, and couldn't understand it. Anyone who knew the organization better would understand it, but having been focused on learning about mental disorders and how to help people who suffer because of them, education, the science of educating social workers, went fallow. So I didn't realize that the modules offered for Thursday didn't even apply to me. I didn't have to be there until Thursday night. I could definitely change that Wednesday flight and hotel reservation.

So Wednesday morning, as soon as I could, I checked United to find that there were plenty of flights early Thursday morning, and they were only $99.00. Sure, we might have to pay to change, but so what?  People paid thousands to get a ticket for these World Series games. I could certainly pop for a few hundred.

FD agreed.

And United, as if they understood what this was all about, was totally on board, waived the change fee.

We popped some corn and brought the salad to the family (those without little babies) party, surprised everyone.

When I told the other kids about changing the flight, the ones who could not be with us, one of the boys merely wrote, Respect.

And when we heard that final, CUBS WIN!!!!   well after midnight, I have to tell you, there was nothing in my experience, nothing quite like it, no words to express. The feeling.

We're waiting for the plane now; there are CUB hats all around, very tired CUB fans in the airport, and I've go on my light blue CUB sweatshirt, and that feeeling, it's in my chest, it isn't going away. And I know it isn't the same anxiety that I get when thinking, "We're gonna miss this plane." This is a good one. This is excitement.

It used to be crazy to be a CUB fan, but it's not in the DSM 5, and nobody can doubt this young team of very talented, highly watchable, men are likely to give us a great run for it next year, too.
It has been #GoCubsGo for months now, and I promise I'll stop.

Next year, however, I buy the white and blue flag.

therapydoc

Prayer

It was an afterthought. 

I was writing about dysfunctional obsessive behaviors: drinking, drugging, gambling, sex, over-eating, and watching way too many baseball games on television.

Chicago Cubs WIN Flag

The usual coping strategies. And I added, as an afterthought, I considered, just for a moment, prayer. 

But stopped right there. Because, can we really pray too much?

This is the time of year that Jews pray for the welfare of the entire world. Our attention, highly introspective, drilled into us by parents, teachers. God is thought to be closer, He, She's sweating the details, paying attention, trying to see who's been naughty or nice. Santa, sorry, is a total steal.

In the synagogue daily, for the past month, or maybe at home, if you live with a musician, the blow of the ram's horn, the shofar, is a wake up call. Wake up! Think about what you really value, think about the important things. Pray for what matters, strive for better, reach to be a better person, extend yourself. We say that God judges the world, all of it on Rosh HaShana, the Jewish New Year.

It begins tonight, and the Days of Awe last 10 days. Last month, the prequel. This isn’t a party holiday, it is serious. Those of us who observe it don’t drink much in celebration, don’t want to be caught napping. There are loftier things to do, learning in particular, praying, and that's how we want to be seen, as if God, considering us for the coming year, will merely think of us this way.  

There have been extra prayers penitential prayers, beginning before the holiday, continuing until Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. People pray early in the morning, late at night, fall into bed exhausted. Why bother with this? Isn't praying three times a day enough?  Either you believe or you don't, is the answer, and if you believe, then you know there is much to pray for, much that neither Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton can or will even try to do a thing about. 

Our lives, the lives of the animals, the fish, the trees, gardens, insects, the atmosphere, the earth's resources, the weather, every income, our stocks, our jobs, you name it, everything is determined, the fates, sealed for a year. It is a one-year contract, designed to keep us on our toes.

Because otherwise, we take everything for granted. This is why therapists try to get you to buy into the idea (with several exceptions) that a little stress is good, a little depression, your problems good too, because these annoyances force our hands, inspire growth, creativity, change. Even learning how to manage emotion, the physiological-psychological baggage that goes with stress, all that painful emotion, is a good thing; managing it, a rite of passage.

When it's not too much.

When it is, when things get really bad, that's when some of us, if we pray at all, start to pray with a vengeance. When things are very bad, people who pray, pray harder. They ask for others to pray with them, for them, for their families. And some of us who never prayed before, begin. Coping in this fashion tends to help us find solace, a little bit of comfort, even if we don't get what we pray for. We will say, You can’t pray too much, you can only pray more. Free will? Sure, but in the end it isn't such a bad idea to ask for help. 

No atheists in the foxholes.

Once I had an acquaintance who, you could tell, prayed daily, maybe three times a day (since she's Jewish), with intention, meaning attention to the words. People in her synagogue thought this because at weekly Saturday services she spent a long time during the silent recitations of prayers, and she cried, sometimes a lot, sometimes just a bit. So most of us assumed that she had problems, and we guessed at what they were, but we all assumed that she truly believed in the whole idea, the idea of prayer.

Just an aside, in Judaism prayer is important, but actions are more important. During these High Holy Days we're judged on tefilah, tzedukah, tshuvah-- prayer, charity, and a return to doing what we’re supposed to do. (We're assumed to have messed up somewhere). Charity and return are behavioral, not contemplative, and an effort at all three at once holds the keys to life in the coming year.

But back to our story. So one day I noticed this friend wasn’t so intent on her prayers, that she seemed much more relaxed, chatting it up with the other women who sat near her. After services, the women were talking, just idle chatter about books and television, and she joined in. She mentioned that she liked some show that actually bothered me, it had so much gratuitous sex and violence, and I teased her, And here I thought you were so religious. 

She laughed and said, Aren’t you?

Sometimes we are, sometimes we're not. It is the way of all people who appear to be religious. 

Chances are, things picked up for her, something lightened her load. Or, she just burnt out, all that devotion, too much to keep up. She would say, my guess, is that as a coping strategy, prayer can be a masterful, powerful form of meditation, focus. Many of us concur. Still others say, It is more than that. It is life or death.

We can't help but hope that when we do pray, when we talk, when we put an invisible concept in the room, as if our words are under consideration, it will make a difference. There's nothing dysfunctional about that, obsessive or not. Perhaps insisting that others do the same, be the same, is.

Have a happy, healthy new year my friends. May God judge us leniently, give us a good one, rich and meaningful, with snapshot memories that move us to good tears, a year that only gently shakes us out of our comfort zones, motivates us to do whatever it is (for I believe it is different for everyone) that our Higher Power wants us to do.

And it wouldn't hurt, honestly, since She is paying attention, if she waved the blue and white WIN flag, and the Cubs win the World Series.

therapydoc