13 Things Mentally Strong People Don't Do

I have to admit, lists rankle me, especially when they are lists of shoulds.*

But Amy Morin wrote a list of should nots. The book, 13 Things Mentally Strong People Don't Do, pulled me in, just like Where Have I Been All My Life, life coach Cheryl Rice's biography, last week. Love those book tours.**

The good news is that the list of don't isn't as focused on avoidance as it  leads on. That's good, because avoidance isn't generally therapeutic. In fact, it can be anti-therapeutic. Just don't  ___ (fill in the blank), never works, not for very long. Humans are far too willful, prone to habit and addiction. Therapy is a process, an examination of the whys and the wherefores of pain--the opposite of avoiding problems.

We even suggest that patients lean into problems. Don't avoid. "Bring it up in a safe place" (before leaning in in vivo). Enough focus and we get sick of feeling sick, leave it for awhile.

Remember what the late Morrie Schwartz suggested to his biographer in a different kind of book, Tuesdays With Morrie?  Morrie's path: embrace the pain, feel it, pass through it. This is mindfulness and it works for some, but it isn't a be all, end all. Yet I find myself referring patients to that book lately, especially when therapy is about a materialistic obsession with success.

So you see why  just don't is too simple. In therapy, we do. Or we intentionally postpone tackling a problem, give it a time and date for re-examination. Timing is everything.

This book, these 13 Things, does manage to focus on doing, thankfully. The "tips"embedded in each chapter are rational-cognitive-behavioral strategies, in list form.*** Alternative behaviors (huge on her suggestion list) add to self. Morin's formula: monitor behavior, regulate emotion, and think about thoughts are basic CBT steps, a steal (totally kosher) from the well-known Beck A-B-C's, affect, behavior, and cognition.

A glimpse inside the mentally strong, the first chapter:

They Don't Waste Time Feeling Sorry for Themselves.

If anyone has the right to feel sorry for herself, our author qualifies, having lost her mom, her husband, and her beloved father-in-law in a few short years. Any loss can throw us into another universe, center us on ourselves. And self-pity, if you're a 12-step aficionado, is stinking thinking. Amy uses herself, just once, as proof that we can rise above it, our pain, use our strengths to take the negative and make something good out of it. In her case, a book, and a good one.


We could and maybe should stop here, but the idea for this particular book tour is that the reviewer choose one of the 13 and personalize it. The chapters apply to most of us, so this isn't all that hard. Look at the first eight.

Mentally strong people . . .

Don't Give Away Their Power
Don't Shy Away From Change
Don't Focus on Things They Can't Control
Don't Worry About Pleasing Everyone.
Don't Fear Taking Calculated Risks
Don't Dwell on the Past
Don't Make The Same Mistakes Over and Over
Don't Resent Other People's Successes

I stopped at the last, because I remember telling friends that I never envied what others have, wasn't quite sure of the meaning of the word jealousy, not until my daughter and son-in-law moved to California. He would attend graduate school, ostensibly, but had family, close family, in L.A. The likelihood of their return to the cold Midwest seemed dismal at the time.

The negative feeling, however, whatever one calls it, jealousy or envy, set in after the grandchildren started coming along. His parents had them. FD and I did not.

Me, to the fellow on the left at the zoo: We have to stop meeting like this.

Then in February, when the temps are below zero in Chicago and I'm visiting a little guy at his other grandmother's pool: We have snow in Chicago. Isn't that better?

And to those children scampering ahead on a hike in the mountains: Wait up!

I tried to keep it in, and truly, my son-in-law's parents are wonderful, and if anyone is going to be good for those kids, they are. To manage my negative feelings, all a person like me has to do is share with others (long dinners with friends, my preference), remember that things do change (there are universities in Chicago), find conferences in Los Angeles (and stay a few weeks, why not), and stay creative, be a grandparent that grandchildren want to talk to, want to visit. Be your best possible self.

It isn't easy, as we say, to rise above it.

therapydoc



*I tried to like BuzzFeed, ended up writing that list, Ten Things to Do Other Than Text While Driving. Went nowhere.

** Next post, seriously, we won't review anything and it won't be about me.

***For those who like to write up reminders and tuck them into their wallets, just a mantra is a good idea, something like, Do I really want to stop at the bar on my way home? (Watch another show on Netflix?) Maybe it is time I worked on myself, or helped somebody, somehow.

Enmeshment and Parenthood, the TV Show

(1) The Queen of Enmeshment

We've talked about finding meaning in life, the search for self and identity, and how the dynamics of our closest relationships, enmeshment in particular, can make that quest seemingly impossible.

Cheryl Rice

But nobody will teach you more about what it is like to really be enmeshed than Cheryl Rice. How the needs of a parent can hijack a child's sense of independence and well-being are the essence of her memoire, Where Have I Been All My Life, the definitive treatment on the subject.

Where Have I Been All My Life

I don't want to spoil it, but the first obvious sign that Cheryl is in trouble starts with kindergarten. Most children are anxious, their moms excited to send them off to their first full day of school.
Have a great time, don't forget to write!

Cheryl can't handle the separation, probably because her mother set the stage. She can't handle it.

Tears of separation anxiety, sobs of sadness, breaks even the unbreakable resolve of kindergarten teachers, those masters of child psychology, professional child wranglers, my personal heroes.

Only attachment-disordered children fail kindergarten, have to start over the following year. Kindergarten is only the beginning. In a few short years Cheryl will tearfully, hysterically, beg the staff at summer camp to send her home. She will plead non-stop, yearn for her mother's warm cocoon, love sick, wondering if this longing for her other half will ever go away.

Textbook enmeshment, her father is powerless, can't look his daughter in the eye, suffers his own emotional demons. When he does deign to speak he is critical, unhelpful. Cheryl's take on it: her idol, her father, can't possibly love her, not if his few comments all point to her weight.* Eating disorders, come to her naturally. She welcomes anorexia, her relationship with food, like her relationships to everyone, grasps at control.

Enmeshed children know only one relationship, that with a needy parent. Rejected by one parent, captured by another, Cheryl's feeble attempts at surviving relationships are all about pleasing. She is good, kind, giving. Literally self-less. Intimacy, sharing about herself is impossible, for she hasn't a clue who she is. 

Yet this young woman is bright and hard-working, marries and has a career as a life coach. She may not know it at the time, but she writes well and is very funny, creative.

In her mid-forties she suffers the the worst thing possible. Her mother dies, little warning. cancer. Cheryl is back to therapy, and that relationship, with its ups and downs (she falls deeply in love with her therapist right away) is the path to wellness. Apparently everyone falls in love with their therapist.
I had no idea.

Parenthood Screen Shot

(2)  Parenthood, the TV Show 


It starts with the theme song Forever Young, by Bob Dylan

May god bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you

May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every run
May you stay, forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you

May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
And may you stay forever young

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift

May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
And may you stay forever young

We all have our shows, and one that millions of Americans pine for, a second only to Everyone Loves Raymond as a dramatic, yet sweet enactment of enmeshment, is on its way out. On Thursday, January 29, 2015, fans will say goodby to Parenthood.

Get the tissues ready.  True Parenthood fans watch it for permission to cry.

I came in a few seasons late, as young mother Kristina (Monica Potter), battles cancer. She makes a friend in treatment, one who will ultimately surrender to the disease. So charming, so kind, we know the friend, a mentor for survival, won't survive. One of the very few relationships that exists outside of the family doesn't last.
Not to be left out, I catch up to learn that Sarah Braverman (Lauren Graham, still a  Gilmore Girl at heart) has returned home, a failure as a single mother with two teenagers. She can't make it alone. Her family supports her decision to return, helps her find work, and counsels her children, lost and confused, now separated from their alcoholic father, a grade B musician.

There's conflict with that loose end. What if Dad somehow steals back the loyalty of the kids? What if he sobers up? Will he take Sarah away again, too? We are left thinking her decision to leave the first time a consequence of poor decision-making. She is a poor decision-maker without her parents. And why would a Braverman ever leave Berkeley, anyway? Mother Camille (Bonnie Bedelia) doesn't say I told you so outright. She doesn't have to.

It is the family support that neutralizes the tension, that tension of too much closeness in the family. Even therapists will learn from the treatment of Max (Max Burkholder), the grandson with high functioning autism (formerly Aspergers), and the management of his disorder. We witness a family's love, caring and patience with Hank (Ray Romano), too, Sarah's boyfriend, who has the same problem as an adult. 


As the seasons progress, it is implied that, Zeek (Craig T. Nelson), the patriarch of the family, is often on another planet, not fully present, perhaps a function of post traumatic stress suffered as a Vietnam war veteran. Yet everyone loves him, respects his opinions, and he learns to be present, a powerful lesson. He will ultimately make difficult decisions regarding his health, and the idea that he might not be around much longer has the family scurrying maniacally to support him, to make his last years richer, to show their love and appreciation.

This is functional stuff, if seriously bordering on enmeshment at times. We haven't even talked about Crosby (Dax Shepard), the middle son who still brings his laundry home to his mother, until Jasmine (Joy Bryant) captures him with her pregnancy and beauty. That's enmeshment, bringing home your laundry in your thirties.

Maybe we should define enmeshment as expected, unbounded family loyalty that conflicts with one's likelihood and capacity to meet developmental milestones.

But the Bravermans, for the most part, meet theirs. Far from feeling pathological, it feels lucky, good to be in this family. Season after season, the in-house support makes us all wish we were Bravermans. Maybe this accounts for the show's popularity, living it vicariously on Thursday nights. The intimacy in Parenthood takes our breath away.

What we'll miss, besides the Dylan song, is the thought of three generations constantly colliding, noisy family dinners around an exceptionally long dining room table, the family's sprawling Berkeley homestead, complete with barn. We'll think of adult siblings frequenting each others' living rooms, endlessly toasting to small emotional victories. And the idea that everyone is expected to attend everything.
Adult siblings survive a nephew's school play by sneaking off to smoke pot in the school bathroom together.

Attendance is mandatory at Little League baseball games. The scenes with Victor up at bat, the adopted son having difficulty finding his place, move us, despite the predictability, in a wonderful way.

We'll think of barbecues, old cars, and botched home repairs that require son-in-law Joel, the Jewish carpenter, to rewire; and the emotions that each grandchild suffers, trying to cope with problems that everyone will share with everyone else. All secrets are spilled, shared. All doors are open, even at the workplace, where family members habitually barge in to offer advice or beg opinions, support.

Enmeshed, sure, but is it so bad, these travesties, when people make one another happy? There is no turning anyone away because of that expectation: We will be there for one another.

Just don't leave.

therapydoc

PS. Haddie, one of the grandchildren, does leave. Off to college with her female lover, ten will get you twenty she's back for the last show. 

*Take note, parents. Kids get it when you think they are fat, and translate fat to ugly. Not good for their self-esteem.

Finally, thanks to Cheryl Rice for sending me her memoir. I hope I did it justice, feel your pain and love that it is a story about recovery, growth and healing. I'm sorry for your loss.