The Fifth Carnival of All Substances

THE fifth. Not a fifth. As in, I plead the fifth.

Okay?

Let's start out with something a little different.

Anabolic steroids and other drugs are part of the arsenal of any competition body builder. . . body builders are at risk for health problems and shouldn't be dying at 30 years old so says Mike Hart who tells the story.

If you're in need of a "centre" spelled British style, there's one in British Columbia that Isabella Mori's enchanted with. I'm waiting for the stats, but check out her enthusiasm, curb only if you must.

I'm not a particularly organically oriented person (it makes me think of dirt, mainly, when someone says, It's Organic). But Live Life, Organics and Your Health has some links about drugs that might interest you. If it's not organic, then it's synthetic, right? Does it all comes down to how you dress in the end?

News Syndicated tells us how one town is handling meth addictions.

All this wellness nonsense is now contaminating television, apparently, my last refuge. But if you're really into it, and why wouldn't you be, wellness, I mean, since sickness really is not fun, then check out Wellness TV on the Dish Channel. (I hope I got that right).

As strange as this may seem, a blogger (Money Walks) writes about the merits of this automobile gasoline versus that gasoline and she's walking this carnival as we speak (or perhaps driving a hybrid car). I said that ethanol wasn't exactly the alcohol I was talking about, but okay. It's hard for me to say no to anyone who takes the trouble to RSVP to an open blog carnival invitation.

The Fit Shack is still kvetching about sugar addictions. (I say this while eating a Hershey nugget, toffee, no disrespect, FS)

Quit Coping should be clapping herself on the back for quitting smoking, reinventing herself for her kid. Now that's inspiring.

Health Plans Plus is looking out for you, making sure you don't just accept the verdict that your kid needs pharmaceutical intervention for ADHD. It's an interesting piece.

Is Negativity a substance? It is now. Problem is, I don't see anyone getting high on being negative. Again, how can I say no to these bloggers? Are you people going to tell me I need to be more assertive?

Okay, I'm assertively emphasizing:

THIS CARNIVAL IS FOR STORIES, preferably RECOVERY STORIES, as in Recovery from SUBSTANCES.

That's exhausting, emphasizing like that. Who said assertiveness would be easy?

See you next month,

therapydoc

I just called to say . . .

I probably haven't gone into too much detail about the holidays that I keep, but basically they can last 2-3 days or more. There's no driving around in your car. No shopping. You hang in the neighborhood, see friends and relatives who live nearby. You don't talk on the phone or use your computer or do anything work related. Nope, no teev, either.

By the time the holiday is over you've either gained 5 pounds or there's something seriously wrong with you.

I did my share.

Anyway, after sunset the day is officially over so I volunteered to take my 19-month old granddaughter off to the bathtub so she could go for a swim. R, her mother, waiting by the telephone to hear about a sick uncle, was happy for me to take over with the little tyke.

The kid's very talented and showed me her latest boating maneuvers and an impressive front float, head above water. Ours is a standard 1950's lime green bathtub. We're not talking a jacuzzi here.

I checked phone messages as the kid tired herself out. There was nothing on voice mail nearly as complicated as floating and not getting your hair wet. I had finally convinced her that hair can get wet and nobody gets hurt when the phone vibrated. It was my sister-in-law.

She never calls on a Saturday night.

I got nervous. Bad things have been happening lately. Last week, just before the last holiday, we lost a family member, a young man, only 50. He'd been ill, but no one expected that call. And now R's uncle, also a young man, is really not doing well. These are my peers. People who could have gone to my high school.

S-i-l wanted a recipe for my apple cake.

After I got the baby to sleep on my shoulder while reading aloud from a professional social work book marketing brochure, I went downstairs to do some dishes and call my mom. I never call her on Saturday night. There's something about it, Saturday night. It's always been date night in my head, even though FD and I rarely go out. But my parents used to get baby sitters and go out on Saturday nights.

They're in their 80's (K'H). Dad answered.

"Yello," he said.

He seemed happy to hear from me, but not surprised or anything. Nothing fazes my father. Hardly anything.

"Hi Dad, how're you?"

"We just walked in. We were out with Lenore and Sammy," he said.

Well, of course.

"Did you have fun?"

"Sure, we just came home for a bite to eat."

Sure.

"I'll let you talk to Mom."

You can tell by the way she answers that she's happy that I called.

"How was yuntif (the holiday)?" she exclaims. "How are the kids? It seems like so long. It feels like a week since I've seen or talked to any of you."

It's been 3 days. They're long 3 days.

"Yuntif was great by us, how's by you?"

I'm working on my Yiddish accent. You know that as a Jew ages a Yiddish accent becomes mandatory.

"Very nice. Lenore and Sammy are over."

Of course.

"I'm so glad you called," Mom said. "You and I never talk on Saturday night."

"I know. I just called to say, well, to say hi. You know."

"That was so nice."

"So you guys are okay?"

"Sure. We're fine. It was great that you called."

There's more to that conversation. We were both pretty animated, but still, I don't want to bore you with the details. Basically, you probably know the punchline, why I wrote the post. Right?

It's one of those Don't Hesitate posts. If you think you should make a call, don't hesitate.

You don't think twice.


therapydoc

Britney Spears and Breaking News

Obie Wan, one of my sons visiting more often lately, warned me, "Don't post about the media, Mom. There are millions of media pundits. Why are you doing this? It's not what you're about."

Well, to be socially responsible. To make a statement. Statements.

Jake Halpern in last Thursday's Wall Street Journal tells us about being bumped from an on-air CNN appearance to discuss his book. The book is about why we're so obsessed with celebrities, and ironically, he says, he was bumped because the station had a more pressing "news-breaking" story.

Britany lost custody of her kids.

But there's really little irony in that he broke his story on the editorial page of WSJ. So who's the opportunist?

Britany's heartache has been the feature on Larry King Live, Anderson Cooper 360, Nancy Grace, and Showbiz Tonight, according to Mr. Halpern. She rates.

I'm not criticizing, honest. How can I? I'm at the end of a 500 something page chick-lit novel about powerful women (Lipstick Jungle, Candace Bushnell, real junk, or as the kids say, brain candy). One of a female power triumvirate is losing custody of her kids because she's the working, as in absentee, parent.

Not exactly the same, but still. I'm opting for brain candy by reading that, right? I could lie, tell you that I'm reading Barbara Wertheim Tuchman. She's in the pile by the bed. And I do, I do. But when I'm tired I reach for the sweets.

Concern for Britany is pouring out from compassionate stars who relate to her dilemma, writes Chris Lee of the LA Times. He tells us,

And judging by her curious behavior -- like going shopping instead of attending a divorce court hearing -- the singer seems compelled more by impulse than reason.

The stars, including Dr. Phil, blame her vulnerability to addictions. Shopping's one of them. You'd think he might rule out various other Axis I diagnoses, no?

Then there's Tatum O'Neil.

Speaking to "Entertainment Tonight," O'Neal, the Oscar-winning former child actress, likened her experiences as both a young mother and a recovering heroin addict to what Spears is going through. "I relate to her and feel really sad for her," O'Neal said. "I did everything . . . that she doesn't want to do. I did the drug testing. . . . It was very humbling. . . . I wanted those kids in my life."

It must be like group therapy, hearing these stories, Britany.

Come on, Obie Wan! How could I pass this stuff up?

I bring it up here mainly because perhaps the media does have a responsibility to bring us what appeals to us. We have to sit through the commercials. Surveys project that we're into people. We want to know about private lives, much moreso than rape, violence, murder and genocide, unless we know who's doing the dastardly deed. We need a face. Like OJ.

Except the We isn't universal is it? Some of us would rather know about Darfur, for example. We go to the Huffingon Post and read Mia Farrow's blog.

I, for one, like to know the news behind the news, too, as in exactly how did the French press fool us into believing that the Israeli army deliberately murdered a young Arab child, (otherwise known as the Al-Durah hoax). France-2 doctored hours of videotape to "prove" that Israeli soldiers did this, then sold the lie to millions of viewer seeking news-breaking news.

Natan Sharansky's story is quite impressive.

It's like corrective surgery. But it'll never make up for that first impression, thanks to France-2's bastardization of what could have been real news. There's a story in there somewhere, but millions won't ever hear it and certainly won't forget the original story. They'll never hear the correction and will always think, when they think of Israeli soldiers, that they kill Arab children. And like doing it.

It's indelible, you know. Imprinting takes on new meaning in the media-world.

So no matter what we read about, we really have to wonder about the veracity. Anyone who has ever been in a PhD program knows that the news is full of outright lies, that it's not based upon research, and even stories about research tend to be poorly conceived.

Which is why Mr. Halpern's not so shamelessly veiled plug for his book on the editorial page of the WSJ doesn't really bother me. At least he brings to our attention that network television is just a consortium pandering to our cravings.

And he works for a periodical that for the most part reaches for newsworthy if not news-breaking nuggets, and foregoes the candy. Somebody has to keep us straight.


therapydoc

Stealing from the Closet

It was a little chilly in California, no surprise. It's always a little hotter or colder than I think it's going to be. But every time I pack, Empath Daught will tell me, Pack light. You can wear my clothes. Which I do.

We were going to spend some time outdoors so I said, "Honey, I could use a little jacket, or a sweater."

She got involved with the kids and I was thinking I'd have to hunt something down on my own, when she turned up with this white jacket. It's a little heavier than it looks.

She said, It looks great on you, Mom. See how it hits your shoulder? That's how it's supposed to fit. It's a little big on me. Keep it.

I felt a little funny about that.

"I took a jacket from you on my last visit, too. The jean jacket. You'll run out of jackets. And it's crazy. YOU should be stealing from MY closet, not the other way around."

Don't be silly, she said.

"But I feel bad about it."

Don't. I'll be happy knowing that when you put it on, you're thinking of me.

Which of course, got me in that place that everyone likes to be got. Does every time I think of it.

And I got to thinking that when they're little, it's about you creating them. You make them. First of all you put half of your DNA into them if they're biological. If they're adopted, you go through endless paper work, time and expense, interviews and "proofs" that you deserve to be a parent.

Then you spend the next 18 years dabbing finishing touches to personality, aptitudes, and spend thousands upon thousands of dollars for schools, medical expenses, food and shelter, and watch as they develop into selves.

And finally, you blink, and they're creating you. They're doing it with the help of their sisters and brothers-in-law, if you're zocheh, meaning merit it (Hebrew), and if you can handle it. I'm suggesting here that you do that, when it's your turn, that you handle it.

Some things, or should we say transitions, are surely are worth the trip.

therapydoc

Dependency and Sabatage

So we talk all about independence, and how behaving independently, making our own decisions, doing things all on our own, all by ourselves, the younger the better, makes us unique, confident, powerful people.

And how parents, when they deny children opportunities, simple decisions, complex peer relationships, and alternative voyages out of the nest, undermine that process, generally in the name of protection.

One thing to talk about that with kids. Quite another to see how it plays out in marriage, years later.

Someone like me will see a patient who had been programed as "overly" dependent by parents transition into someone "overly" dependent upon a spouse. This might feel sexy in the beginning (she/he NEEDS me) but it gets boring in time.

The two will come into couples therapy for any number of reasons, but the dependency tends to manifest itself as angry, childish, jealous, unlikeable behavioral traits, traits you see in people with personality disorders.

And our white knight is generally not a white knight, really, but someone who likes the idea of a romantic, traditional marriage, one that values family relationships and "white knight-ness." If he marries her because she's close to her family, he is often very close to his-- or wishes to be close to a family.

That's not bad. I'm not saying that's bad. But it enters into the conflict as soon as the sparks fly. It falls in the unresolved matter of relationships. His/her family of origin fills the need to be needed, admired.

See, it's more than dependency. This is about applause, too.

So at some point dependency can become terrifically dysfunctional and the couple might even separate, often following a violent interaction. They'll go back to their own families of origin. And I'll be working with both of them, building that sense of self, those unique wonderful individuals who really wants to operate independently, deep down inside.

And wouldn't you know? The seemingly more independent partner will inevitably undermine the process, telling the more dependent partner (not in my presence, usually) that he/she is making poor decisions as an independent soul, shouldn't be spending money this way, shouldn't have said this or that to one of their parents, shouldn't have decided to go, all alone, on a vacation.

And that always happens, by the way, as soon as the "more" independent, functional partner skips out of therapy, misses appointments, supposedly glad that the "less" independent, functional partner is getting better, separating from family, growing.

The two of them were never more or less. They were always on the same level, the same page when it came to at least that one very important dynamic.

That's what we mean by an emotional system.

Things are rarely as they seem. You know?


therapydoc

Self-denial and Fasting

Remember those days when I said that I wouldn't talk about my religion? And yet,

All over the world readers are asking,

How did you break your fast after Yom Kippur, TherapyDoc? Please tell us what you ate. We know how health conscious you are.

Ah, breaking the fast. We just completed a powerful day at the synagogue, a 25 hour fast, no food, no drink. All to atone for our sins and everybody else's (Meaning all Jews are in it together. It's one of our enmeshed things we do, atone as a people).

But it's still a lot of sins, no matter how you cut it. I hear, by the way, that the Catholic priests are sending letters home to members of their congregation to come back to confession. Is this because therapy's not working? Is it working for us ethnics? Ya' have to wonder.

Back to the fast. At first I thought I'd title tonight's post Self-Denial. But then I thought, no, you don't deny "self" when you don't eat or drink. If anything, it's all you've got.

Then I thought, perhaps Self-Deprivation. That made more sense. But I asked FD, just to be sure, and he said, "Well actually, it's about resting from food. We take a break from the physical stuff. Oh, and it's about afflicting the body by not eating/drinking." Those are the reasons the Torah gives us for the commandment to refrain from these things on the 10th day of the 7th month. (Don't ask me to explain our calendar).

Right.

So we give it a rest, always a good thing. And at the end of the day, we say, It was worth it. The fast is worth standing all day, praising the Old Mighty, hoping He'll look askance at who we really are. The fast makes us tired, but not so tired. We roll our eyes at one another and point to our watches, feeling pretty bad until it's about to end, then we perk up.

We think about life, and how it hasn't been easy for us. We figure it out that easy isn't what it's all about, probably. Probably people who think that life is about making it easy or just being happy needs to rethink the concept.

We're always waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it will for everyone. The other shoe drops eventually. It HAS to. It's suspended on a thread up there somewhere, getting heavier and heavier until. . .

Kabam!

But even though life's not about being happy, I still hold by the idea that Happy Is Better and that's what we have to shoot for. That's what I keep telling all of the depressed people in the blogosphere. Let that lighter part of the brain reign as often and intensely as possible.

But it's still a sometime thing, like all emotional states. We aim for it daily, but like that song, that Porgy and Bess song, A Woman is a Sometime Thing, Being Happy is a sometime thing.

Anyway, back to the fast and After the Fast and food. Self-deprivation (you can try to relabel it as rest, but come on, really, we're stretching here) self deprivation is good for the character. It's another one of those, What doesn't kill you makes you stronger things (another TherapyDoc world view under the condition that you get therapy to work out the what didn't kill you).

Self-deprivation is the way to feeling grateful. Take away what you've got, take away your usual physically pleasuring comfort-props like food, water, AND sex, and Wow, Are We Ever Grateful To Merely eat, drink, and you know.

But the fast of Yom Kippur is really about atonement, which you do better when you're resting. The fast helps us atone, become more self-reflective. We get a wider lens by fasting, ironically, we think about bigger pictures.

And we regret regrettable deeds of the past year, and self-adjure for incredible laziness and lack of ambition, for not doing the things we'd promised we'd do at this time the year before. The apologizing to others thing can be brutal. But yes, we have a built in Fifth Step into this religion. (12-steppers know what I'm talking about). If we hurt someone, we have to make amends before Yom Kippur. He doesn't forgive us if we haven't tried to get forgiveness from people who matter.

People matter.

Anyway, at the end of the fast the prayers at the synagogue are so loud, so powerful, so full of emotion and meaning, they probably put Gospel meetings to shame. But ours are only once a year.

And as my son said, "And everyone is actually happy those last few minutes of the holiday, looking forward to food."

Chammie turned to me in the middle of the fast and said, "I could go for nachos."

Not skipping a beat, I added, "With the sourcream, avacado, green onions and tomato, right? Maybe add a pinto bean dip?" (People wanted to shush us, but you could tell they also wanted to tell us what they wanted to eat).

She wasn't so sure about the onions and brought up yellow toffee. Anyway, I have no idea what Cham ate after the fast (see, we're not enmeshed, okay?), but FD made me pancakes and I squirted real whipped cream from a can on the rest of a banana cream pie, and am now feeling no pain.

What was that about self-deprivation again?

Moving right along, a quick update on Tante Fela.

If you recall, last year she sat next to me for the High Holidays, a total stranger, a Holocaust survivor. We made friends, enjoyed being connected. I like meeting new people. And she had prayed, with fervor, Al tashichaini. Don't throw me away. (The root of that word, for those of you who are interested, is tashlich/to throw, the very same as in the ceremony some perform on Rosh Hashana, throwing symbolic sins into a river using bread crumbs or stones).

So this year (yes, she sat next to me, it was arranged) I listened to her and heard her emphasize, Al tashlichaini b'ais ziknah

Which means, Don't throw me away in my old age.

I turned to her and said, You? You're not old. She nodded and said, "I'm old, I'm old."

But both of us had kvetched about our backs hurting, so I said, Maybe not so old. And she smiled.

therapydoc

Here Today, Gone. . .

Abbey Brown of the Shreveport Times tells quotes the following:

"A clean slate," LaSalle Parish School Board member Billy Fowler said of why the tree was cut down in the past few weeks. "There's nothing positive about that old tree. It's all negative. And I'm serving on the new School Board, and we're wanting to start fresh on some things."

Read the post below.

See, I would have suggested, LEAVE IT UP. Remembering is the key, not forgetting. Fence it in. Put up a sign. Tell the world what happened there.

Say,

Never Again. No more KKK, No more nooses. No more intimidation.

I'd like to say, they were kids, they didn't mean it. They'll be ashamed when they're adults. But I'm not at all sure. So say, Never Again, and mean it. Start with education. It's a SCHOOL. This happened outside of a school.

From sundown Friday evening to sundown Saturday, according to my tradition, everyone and everything is judged. Tradition holds that that tree was judged last year on this day of the Jewish calendar.

May we all be judged favorably.

I was never one of those "peace on earth" people, but seriously, peace on earth,

TherapyDoc