A side effect of the work I partake in includes the delight of gaining glimpses into the perspectives of others. Therapy fosters a space that allows for a therapist to join with someone on their journey, even if only for a moment. Some days, I feel like I have the secret keys to a time traveling machine, serving as an empathetic perception traveler, weaving in and out of varying realities that grace my office. It’s a neat and often humbling opportunity.
Some of the perspectives I find myself uniquely fond of are the realities of those on the Autism Spectrum. These are notoriously the most misunderstood perceptions out there. I often normalize the challenges for parents in connecting with their Autistic loved ones. Metaphorically, I have found the particular “key” to use when stepping into the perspective of those on the spectrum have a password that must first be cracked before gaining access to the key. This is where I jump in. Instead of demanding the password, I embrace unconditional positive regard and simply insert myself as an observer. I outwardly recognize the privilege that I have identifying as neurotypical and the honor it is to be invited into their reality. Here, the pressure is alleviated to “mask” and the authentic human that sits before me begins to peek through their defenses that are vital to their internal safety. As this incredible soul begins to peer around their “masks”, I begin to listen for the soft notes of their tempo, their language, the distinctive notes that color their experiences. Quiet and hesitant at first, I gleefully and humbly listen, cherishing the moments I join with these clients. I hold space for the pain, the loneliness, and the long-held grief that is a side effect of being misunderstood. I empathetically jump into the topics that keep their soul alit despite the mountains of challenges. I immerse myself in the music of their perceptions. Then, ever so magically, I begin to access the password to connection and fostering nonjudgmental spaces. I take these passwords, put it through my therapeutic translator, and later communicate the messages and the experiences my client’s struggled to convey with the world whose tempo just does not make sense. Try as they might, the ability to settle into the neurotypical world escapes them. Now, the tables have turned and suddenly these resilient individuals are now the teachers instead of the students. The empowerment of this unlocking still dazzles my soul when I bare witness to it. There is so much to learn from a perspective that differs from our own. Different is just different. Not bad. Not broken. Just different. Those on the Autism Spectrum are unabatedly aware of this. While I will not try and speak for anyone, it is typically the tempo of the neurotypical world that colors “different” with negativity. Those with Autism are plagued with the monstrous task of learning to function to the notes of a reality that is far too unfitting and unyielding. They are told from a very young age their “different” is wrong, is sad, is something to be pitied and looked down upon. Where in the world is the empowerment in that? Something that I listen to often is the silenced plea to have others let those with Autism lead the tempo from time to time. To join in their worlds. To empathically recognize they may never “get it” but their humble recognition of a reality that is different than theirs can still have some good parts. That joy, love, and enjoyment is still very much a reality, it just looks and feels different within the tempo they experience life in. Embrace the many tempos that individual perceptions dance to. Lean into the melodies and recognize that different is just different. Novelty and differences can lead to connection, if only we bare witness to the soft notes that accompany them. Pause. Listen. Embrace the melodies that are different than your own. Then, prepare for the onslaught of connection to those whose tempos can finally find a place in this world.
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An unspoken expectation hidden within the imaginary parenting guide is that nagging comes with the territory. Children are notorious for their selective listening skills, and these only become more discerning as they travel into their teenage years.
Parents nag kiddos. The sky is blue. Each are unarguable. “Pick up your towel!” “Put your shoes away!” “If I trip over this Xbox cord one more time…” The issue here in lies the lack of boundaries between these annoyance-tinged reminders and the ways we encourage healthy relationships with food and bodies. The encouragement to nourish their bodies and look after their eating and exercise patterns begin to mimic the grumbling nature of our broken record requests. “You’ve already had a slice of pizza today, are you really going to eat another?” “You need to get outside more, or you’re going to regret it!” I say this while exuding compassion… Cut it out! Here is your wake-up call, folks. Attempting to guilt youngsters into engaging in something does not get anyone anywhere healthy. All this guilt and passive aggressive complaining does is foster a negative self-image, defeating self-talk, and lackluster motivation at best. Instead, model the choices and behaviors you crave to witness in your children. If you want them to embrace a healthy eating habit and relationship with food, be the role model! Become aware of your own narrative attached to the way you view your body and your food choices. Take the shame out of the equation and there will likely be a different result. If you want your children to be more active, get active with them! I want to validate the exhaustion and depleted motivation that comes with being a parent. It’s not easy to wear all of the hats you have to wear to identify as a responsible adult. However, your kiddos are watching and listening to your every move. The narrative that plays out in your mind can get passed down to your kiddos relatively quickly, whether you like it or not. Children are sneaky in this way. Remember that healing you talked about engaging in? Healing those old wounds, you swore you’d never pass down? Hop to it friends. Be the change you crave to see in your children. Bare witness to your narrative and rest assured they are listening. I am totally and completely aware of “fads” that occur within the culture of our youth. Whether it be viral Tik-Tok videos, popular YouTube streamers, flipping bottles so they land right side up, you name it. The perk of working with a lot of youngsters is that they happily introduce me to all sorts of fads, so I can sound “not like a millennial”, whatever that means.
A recent point of popularity that’s captured my attention is the proclivity to describe oneself as “annoying”. As apart of my therapeutic treatment plan, I assess and encourage exploration of one’s internal narrative, exploring the person they experience themselves to be. It is also easily the most uncomfortable dialogue for a kiddo to sit with. The most common deflection of this exploration is “oh, I’m annoying”. Since when did it become conventional for our youth to paint themselves in such a defeating light? To identify most closely with “annoying”, is like asking yourself to run a marathon without shoes. It’s uncomfortable, sometimes painful, and all too awkward. I find myself looking around for the culprit of this popular point of identification. Is it within the parent’s culture to communicate the message “you’re annoying, stop behaving like a child”? To be fair, it’s quite the fad for parents to post pictures of their children rocking fashionable clothes, obtaining certain achievements, and overall, not embracing the silliness children are meant to embody all over Facebook and Instagram. Rarely do we see posts about quirky interactions between youngsters, emotionally unregulated outbursts, or the “oopsies” that notoriously plague the art of growing up. The obnoxious part about this fad is that it could rob kiddos from the privilege of being, well, youngsters. Or perhaps the culprit is the culture of our education system. The ever-increasing plight to stuff our youth into a metaphorical box of complacency and average test scores. If you have never heard about the Common Core Standards, consider yourself lucky, or perhaps naïve to the strict nature of our education culture. It’s chalk full of “shoulds” and ineffective curricula that has cost America billions. Teachers have been placed under insurmountable pressure to embrace this ineffective model of teaching, which has left them utterly exhausted and burnt out. This is when I begin to hear sounds of impatience with our kiddos in the classroom, which fuels an internal dialogue of “I’m annoying if I have unmet needs or am confused”. Questions are not encouraged in our classrooms anymore. Only stringent cooperation. So, let’s see here. We’ve got trend-seeking parents, conformity-fueled education systems, and youth hyper-focused on their social media portrayal. Where in the World is there room for childhood? For the messiness that is meant to inspire growth-oriented humans? For the generation of uniqueness and the encouragement to embrace all that comes with growing into well-adjusted and functioning adults? I certainly don’t see much wiggle room. It’s a therapeutic point I strive to foster as a clinician that I generate a space dedicated for room to explore what it means to be the client. The child. The human. I am passionate on cultivating a safe and inviting space for the messiness of self-exploration and identification. It is extremely vital to a kiddo’s development to be given grace for the oopsies, validation for the hardships of being a little person existing in an expansive World, and room to figure out how they want to be known, not only to others but themselves. We must meet our children where they are at first and foremost. Set the trendsetting drive aside for the time being and recognize childhood is hard. Realistic expectations have evolved into idealistic expectations, and it’s no wonder mental health deterioration is currently plaguing our youth. Friendly reminder that “annoying” is an adjective attached to behavior, not the essence of a person. Sure, humans have a capacity to illustrate annoying behaviors from time to time. However, leaning on and adopting the trait of annoyance is like waving the white flag of defeat. Dig deep, my beautifully imperfect humans, as you are far more worthy than “annoying” allows you to take credit for. Challenge the blanket terms our World’s culture pressures us into accepting as our truth. We are meant to recognize and embrace our complexity, not the all-or-nothing “fads” tied throughout idealistic expectations. What did that little yellow thing represent though?
It represented the freedom that accompanies innocence. I think that’s the bulk of it. Innocence supports a feeling of safety, a veil of solitude away from the big bad wolves out there. I long for the consistency and security that those whom I admired fervently gave. All of the sudden, my “big girl” goals are achieved, and I’m left looking around, craving for my next moves to be rolled out gracefully before me. I did the education thing, and my equestrian show partner dedicated eleven years to the competition limelight. I married the love of my life, and we’re dedicated to nurturing our financial blueprints so we can grow and blossom in the ways we crave. There’s a sense of loneliness when we witness the closing of chapters for ourselves and others. Whether it be tearfully sending our children off to boot camp as they embark on their own dreams, or kissing grandparents farewell, with a pinky promise to see them on the other side. Promising your aging show horse a comfortable retirement, longing for one more ride, one more dance in the show pen, just one more… How much heavy can a heart withstand? How do we carry on and “fight the good fight” when our souls are bored of the burdens and exhausted from the heartache? You see, I identify as a therapist, yet I securely know that some answers are not mine to hold. I sit with clients, normalizing the bravery that is admitting “I don’t know” at times of immense vulnerability. When we don’t know the next steps or the next “to-do” to accomplish a sense of peace or fulfillment, it’s a challenge not to panic from the sense of loneliness. Boredom that accompanies the sensation of wandering aimlessly through our routines can creep in and fester. Here’s what I rely on and am leaning quite heavily on as I carry out my responsibilities with a heavy heart and a tired soul. I know there are three things guaranteed in this reality: the beginning of life, the ending of life, and change that happens in between. I’m thankful this heaviness holds the promise to be temporary. I’m reminding myself to focus on my foot being place in front of the other. Pushing myself, knowing the only way through this heartache is forward. I am fixating my gaze on the glimmers surrounding me: my loving rock of a husband, my tenacious family, my compassionate work crew, my quirky kitty and her fascination with the movement of water. Drip Drip Drip Life carries on to her own tempo. Invest in her promise of reaching new terrains, new opportunities, and novel chances to embrace what makes you feel alive and whole. I love my cat for a number of reasons. Her quirks never seem to disappoint squeaking a smirk from my lips, even on the dullest of days. One of her idiosyncrasies includes sitting in the soaked shower, just under the showerhead promptly after I finish my nightly cleanse. The leftover droplets cascade below, scattering delicately around her. Each time one lands, she gazes quizzically at the place the droplet expanded into a uniformed puddle surrounding her toes. Her gaze does not lose its complexity, no matter how many beads of water fall below.
Drip Drip Drip Life is one of the most impressive marathon runners. She sets her pace and sticks to it. Seconds tick methodically, routinely, and do not skip a beat. She carries this pace without tiring, without pausing. Carries on into the abyss, unconcerned with PRs or possible stumbles along the way. I envy her ability to keep the pace. I’ve noticed I’ve been watching life run her marathon, feeling as if I’m cemented to the sideline. Perplexed by the notion she continues on at this pace while I feel mesmerized by her fluidity. Perhaps this is how my cat feels as the droplets scatter about. Maybe I’m bored with the burdens I’m carrying. As life has run her race, I feel as if I’ve been running alongside, carrying around the same yellow backpack and that shit gets heavy. This bright yellow backpack was so shiny and appealing in the beginning. The neon reflectors kept me safe as I ran in the dark. Its snug straps supported my body and propelled me forward. As the race carried on, as did time, this shiny yellow backpack began to weather from the seasons. It began to rip from the wear and tear. At first, the tears were manageable and small. A piece of duct tape could quickly do the trick. But now, oh now there’s not enough duct tape in the world to piece it back together. The yellow sheen has faded, and the reflectors have fallen off. The marathon continues on, life moves forward at her methodical pace, yet I feel burdened. Tired of the worries I’ve been toting for what seems like something past its expiration date. Rationally, I’ve learned about the consequence of time. To live means to age, and to age means to cease one day to exist. I know this, yet I’m finding my heart grappling with the idea of forever. Desperate to do a deal with the Devil if that meant renewing the bright yellow backpack to its formal glory days. Drip Drip Drip How does one invest in their own narrative while bearing witness to the conclusion of others they cherish so deeply? Yes yes, I am very familiar with the phrase “it’s OK to not be OK”. It is a favorite hashtag of mine on social media. A thought of reassurance for others yet does little to console a soul who is mourning for what once was. I miss that yellow backpack. What did that little yellow thing represent though? *I was recently asked to respond to the prompt “What nature taught you”. I thought I would share my tid-bit in response*
Nature has taught me the necessity of reboots. Recharges. Restarts. Life has a funny way of locking our perspectives into a tunnel-vision mindset. Hyper-focused on the next day, the next stressor, the next thing to worry about. Along the way, we can get stuck in the quicksand of this mentality. Step into nature, and it is the most consistently nurturing teacher. She’s always there, compassionately cultivating the changing of seasons. The waxing and waning of the weather, the flowers, the leaves dancing in the trees. Reboots are vital to our well-being, just as the changing of seasons is necessary for the health of the natural world. Recharging encourages rest. Restarts encourage moments to pause and take a step back. So, step into nature often, friends. She’s there to remind us of our humanness and the vitality that accompanies reboots and recharging. A lot of running happens in therapy. Running in circles, from the past, away from emotional turmoil. Deflecting away from the hard stuff, the pain, the grief that we all encounter at some point in our journeys. Somewhere along the way, some emotions began to embody the big, bad monster that lurked under our beds as children. Something we more subconsciously than not pull the metaphorical sheets over our heads in feeble attempts to cower from. Perhaps we are so fond of running because we hate the ending of most everything that is “good”. The conclusion of a relationship, the closing of a life chapter, the death of a loved one. Unless the ending is on our terms based on our clocks, we want nothing to do with it. Even the ending of a TV series or the conclusion of a good book can send pings of longing and hints of sadness dancing delicately down our spines. A witty commercial once termed this experience falling into a “show-hole” and I still giggle at the accuracy. I wish I could convince others (and myself) that running from “the end” is only going to leave us exhausted, lost, and with no sense of satisfaction. Grief is apart of the human condition. I feel like someone left this out of the “How to be Human” handbook. It’s the balance that is necessary for a full life. Just as joy and the full extent of enjoyable emotion is inherently ours to experience, grief is just as required. We forget to acknowledge the beauty of grief and the purpose of this heartbreaking sensation. Perhaps this is due to the breath being knock from our lungs and the punch in the gut that follows. Can anyone guess why grief is a side effect of humanness? Anyone? Grief exists because love ensues. Personally, I think the most courageous act a person can do is to love deeply following the experience of grief. We begin our lives with innocence enveloping love. Innocence serving as a protective barrier away from the existence of conclusions. Love only means connection, security, snuggles, and togetherness. As we grow, the harshness of reality chips away at this barrier, some quicker than others. However, there is typically enough innocence left over for our “first loves”. I believe we can all envision a memory of either experiencing or witnessing a “first break-up”. The dramatics of it may make you cringe, so sorry if it did. I’d like to fill in the blank in your “How to be Human” handbook. Grief will come, and the wave of its entirety will knock you senseless. For a moment, or perhaps a block of time, you may not know what is up or down. The sensation of emptiness and longing will leave you gasping for air. You may clutch at your sides in a futile attempt to hold your broken heart together. Grief will come because love ensues. This the beauty in the chaos. This is the rainbow after the storm. What a privilege it is to love deeply and to be apart of a story that exceeds our wildest dreams. I wish we could have a say over the conclusions that we care most about, but these conclusions are simply not meant for us. The extent of our power as humans only reaches so far. Let yourself feel it. Let yourself cry. Allow yourself to crumble amongst those whom you cherish. Validate your gamut of emotions that will wax and wane, for these are yours and they are meaningful. “For what is grief but love persevering.” Imagine a world where your perspective is locked downward. Your focus unwavering from the path before you. No break from the reality of unrelenting tunnel vision. The pain in your neck twinges as you march on, hyper-focused on the next step, the next move, the next *fill in the blank*. Sound familiar? We humans are perpetual creatures of habit. We find safety in the ruts we create within our lives, solitude in our reliable routines. While this focus on comfort is endearing, it can also leave us in a state of stuck-ness. Perhaps a reliably consistent theme not only within the therapy room but in my own life is that our gaze can become stuck in a downward glance, comfortable in the discomfort of one fixed outlook. When I experience this particular sensation of stuck within my own life, my mind wanders to the mountains. My husband and I share a passion for hiking, particularly in the undulating terrain of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Being that I am a Florida native, navigating precipitous paths is not my strong suit. Funny enough, we habitually place bets on the number of times I am bound to trip prior to any beginnings of a trail. Of course, this sparks the competitive zeal within me, and I find myself hyper-focused on the earth beneath my feet as we begin our march up the mountain. Unlike the Florida flatness that I’m numb to, these mountains emphatically encourage me to pause and look up. The views, the colors, and the idiosyncrasies tantalize my fixed downward gaze to shift and bare witness to the wholeness of the present moment. Can you imagine how dull the hike would be like if I never looked up? Can you imagine how exhausting life could be like if we never shifted our focus? Our souls rely on these shifts. Our mental and emotional well-beings satiate themselves on refocusing our lens from time to time. It is utterly valid that a particular routine or standpoint is necessary for our functioning within our worlds. The workplace is one situation that demands this often. However, one viewpoint is not necessary for the duration of our days that fade into years. Just as my soul is numb to the beauty of Florida, it craves the reminders to climb out of my rut in the ways I experience my world. So how can we remain mindful to the vitality of these shifts out of our normative tunnel vision ways we hold onto from day to day? Do me a favor. Close your eyes for a moment and let your mind wander to a place you find peace. Where did it go? Perhaps it’s your back porch when the sun is tucking itself in for the night. Or maybe it’s the symphony of song the morning birds orchestrate outside your window as you wake up. It could be the experience of going for a jog, sipping on your morning coffee, or reading your kiddo their favorite bedtime story. Wherever your world sheds it’s glimmer of peace, make it a point to check-in with yourself. Relax your jaw, release your shoulders, and fill your belly with a breath. Move your neck from side to side, as it could be aching from the fixed stare at all that lay in front of you. You will get to where you need to go. However, the journey is far more radiant if we just remember to look up and bare witness to the wholeness of our present moments. As I mosey along this life journey of mine, I find myself in the position of asking questions and listening to other’s narrative vs the latter. Subconsciously, I think I’ve somewhat adapted to playing to role of empathetic listener and inquirer in and out of the therapy room. It’s a running joke in this field to hold off on disclosing what you do for a living to others, because it’s all too common to get responses like “Oh, I need to come see you!” or “Are you analyzing me right now?”.
So, it’s a unique experience whenever the table is turned, and someone inquiries about me that goes deeper than the stereotypical “what’s shakin’?”. I must admit, these times are mildly unsettling because I am so unused to having the coin flipped. Recently, this question was “What makes you feel confident?” Perhaps this is just a therapist thing, but I had to take a raincheck on my answer because I wanted to sit with it. It’s one thing to say you’re confident, but it’s another thing to identify what exactly perpetuates this confidence. As I continued to mull over this question in my mind, I invited it into the therapy room. Posing the question to others as we toss around other relative themes such as self-worth and self- image. I have to say, it’s led to very fruitful processing and exploration. I’ve been discovering that confidence and worth are two phrases utilized interchangeably within our worlds. Two words referred to as synonyms, however they’re actually quite different. It would be like saying a doctor and a dentist are basically the same thing. Good luck having a doctor fill a cavity! Let’s take worth for example. We have a tendency to put our worth into the hands of others or into the places we cherish. Tying our worthiness to the temporary sensations of validation from others, or the goals we set that are influenced by many aspects largely outside of our control. There is a roadblock with this framework for one’s worth because we are viewing it as something that is transient. Where in reality, our worth is constant. Grounded. Anchored to the uniqueness each soul holds within themselves. Our worth is tied to our voice, our values, and our resiliency just to name a few. Switching gears to confidence, this is where the fluidity we experience comes in. Confidence is a wave that is notorious for waxing and waning throughout our lives. Some days, we are rocking our favorite heels paired with that perfect lipstick and we walk down the sidewalk to that meeting we know we will crush. Confidence oozes from you as you feel as if you could conquer the world. Then, we have days where all of our clothes feel frumpy, our hair is doing that weird flippy-thing, and all you want to do is curl up on the couch with your cat and lock away the world. Confidence level those days could be close to zero. Confidence is a product of our humanness, worth is inherent of our being. Our worth demands to be respected, and runs deeper than the materialistic contributions that may boost our confidence. Our confidence deserves compassion for its fluidity as a part of the human condition. It’s OK to feel “extra human” sometimes, however our worth is unwavering during these experiences. If anything, our worth is highlighted during our “frumpy” days because when our vulnerability is showing, our worth glistens from our persistence and resiliency traveling along our journeys embracing the beautiful, messy, imperfect, feeling souls that we are. Valentine’s Day is right around the corner.
I’m a little disappointed that this candy-riddled day falls on a weekend. Since I work with a lot of youngsters, I have a special place in my heart for these kinds of fun days that can spark different flavors of processing and exploration. Therapists enjoy a smile-worthy shake up from time to time. The narrative revolving around this rosy-colored day has always irked me. Our culture embraces such a linear take on love, and I am rolling my eyes as I type this. We can celebrate nine types of knowledge but only one type of love? Wake me up when this snooze fest is over. But in all seriousness Valentine’s Day could use a reframe. Intrinsic and extrinsic motivation are frequently thematic points of conversation in the therapy room. We live in a world that hyper-focuses on extrinsic joys and motivation yet neglects intrinsic or self-reflected anything. Our culture thoroughly draws attention to the latest and the greatest thingamabobs and the burst of joy that could ensue if one were to obtain such doohickies or accomplishments. Just turn on the TV or glance at social media and they will prove my point. Same goes for love. We tend to place a price tag on love, just as we do on the whose-its and whats-it in the store. I frequently hear “If I could just lose 10 more pounds…” or “If I would have tried harder…” Rip that price-tag off! Genuine and authentic love is priceless. We are inherently worthy of this love for the mere fact that we are uniquely us. Layering on the materialistic hoopla can distract away from the love that’s meant to be celebrated not just one cloudy February day, but every single damn day. So, here’s a thought… Recognize the intrinsic love within your world as well as the extrinsic. If you have a honey, share those extra words of affirmation and carve out time to embrace cherished moments of connection. However, don’t forget to celebrate the day by weaving in some self-love and compassion, however this looks for you. Each soul is worthy of this kind of love. |
Katherine Scott,
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