When our parents were young

                               My dad (1911-1992) when about two or three years old



         "If I am in therapy do I have to bash and talk trash about my parents ?",  the new client asked.

     Such is the stereotype that some harbor about what happens in counseling sessions.  I hear the question often although the words may differ.  And I respond that while some parents treated their children with willful cruelty or negligence, I believe that most parents had endeavored to do otherwise. Sometimes, however, the child's needs (not always the same as wants) had not been met and scars remained unhealed.

  Preferring to speak little about fault or blame, I focus instead on responsibility and accountability. And by those criteria, not all parents pass the grade, perhaps because, well, they  had parents who did not.  Some traits and behaviors are part of one's DNA as surely as physical distinctions. Identifying and healing those can break the cycle of hurts and abuse.  Such for me is the strength and appeal of Family Systems Therapy.  Individuals are not locked into a rigid repetition of the past.

   Knowing what life was like for our parents when they were young reduces the wish to blame and enlarges our capacity for greater self-understanding and responsibility for our own desitiny. Sometimes I invite clients to imagine their parents and grand-parents as children and  youth ---  not a  particularly easy concept.  Vast gaps of information exist, at least that is my experience.  All this came to mind again within the past  few weeks when cousin Sharon began  posting (from her mother's collection)  pictures of my youthful parents which I had never before seen.  These along with several that I already had sometimes raise as many questions as answers about their own youth.

             Sharon sent this undated photo of my parents
             Likely before their first child was born in 1938

Such as the above photo of mom and dad . . . we have no idea of when, where, or why it was taken. But, gosh, they were young. 


And, there are various kinspersons pictured from earlier days:

    Maternal grand-parents early in their marriage. I remember a lot about them. Wish I knew more

Aunt  Rachel (standing) and Cousin Clarice  

Both now great-grandmothers

                               Uncle Morris on his mother's lap and his brother Cecil
                                       Morris died in 1963 and Cecil in 1962
                                 Morris was the father of my cousin, Kenneth

                  Maternal great-grand-parents.  Mom spoke of him occasionally.
All I know is that he survived Civil War battles and walked home to NC  from Va

                        Paternal grand-father.  He arrived in the US around 1890.
                                           Picture taken before dad's birth in 1911


And, I believe all these relatives were good people and this has not been a veiled 'bashing'.  I have a better understanding of myself and a greater appreciation for their influence for good in my life.  If yours are still living, talk to  parents and grand-parents about their early years. You will likely learn a lot !  (Maybe even about yourself !)

      Satchel

RE--TIRED

   No, I  have not acquired enough birthdays to retire from my profession-- at 82, nowhere close!  That is a consideration for another day.  Actually, this has to do with re-tiring as one of life's little annoyances.

   It started out like this . . .  needing an alternative view other than our walls and yard --even for a brief interlude--last Sunday afternoon, my  wife and I spent an hour roaming back country roads around our town., having no particular destination.  'Meandering, it's called. (So named for the winding Meander River in modern Turkey, for the Trivia buffs.)

   When we decided we had travelled one particular stretch of road as far as we  wanted, I began searching for a turn-around spot. Finally, the long, gravel farm driveway provided ample space, and off we went in a new direction.  My wife had commented on the rather large size of the gravel but the conversation turned to other matters and soon we were back in our  driveway. 

   Two days later as I walked up the driveway, I noticed that the rear tire on the driver's side was flat.  At the time, I did not make the connection.  I lack both the tools and the muscle to change the tire, so Triple-A came to the rescue. (Not a commercial, paid or otherwise, but that has been a beneficial investment !)  The driver replaced the casualty with the small 'donut' spare, a temporary expedient but hardly safe for long or high speed travel.

  When I saw the deflated tire, the 'dots connected'.
A   LARGE piece of rock penetrated the tread, beyond repair. 
Then I remembered the gravel driveway from our  Sunday ride.

    And that was when I knew it was time to visit "Dr. Hal" who knows tires better than anyone in town.  He and his now-deceased father have operated a local service for many years.

Barely visible on the left, Hal plies his trade
               

He recommended a replacement and in  'no time flat'
(even I know that is an awful pun),  he had it mounted.
(Lest you may think otherwise, this is not an advertisement, paid or otherwise for his business.)

Good as new 

              Does this all-too-common automobile experience have a 'moral' to the story?   Not to over inflate its importance, maybe it's something like this: "Be careful where in life you turnaround, You may get rocks in your head or tires." 
   That last was so bad that it is time to retire this post.

     Satchel 

From Couch to Computer Camera

 
                              WELL,, IT STARTED IN VIENNA NOT SO MANY YEARS AGO . . .
                     
                                   Sigmund Freud sculpture by Andrew Thorne
                                                     (@ThorneSculpture)



     "GO HOME" our Director told me on March 18th this year. Gratefully, I was not being terminated.  The Corona Virus had begun  its devastating, still ongoing, disruption of life.  Aware that my age placed me in a vulnerable group,  she was expressing care and empathy that I minimize susceptibility  for infection.

    I have since seen the interior of my office only on a couple of  occasions when supervising one of our Residents who uses it rather than his smaller office. We are using video via a platform that the hospital has made available. Truthfully, there is a bit of 'homesickness' for the familiar surrounding; but not enough  to return just yet. Now I also  conduct therapy sessions in the same format, albeit on a different platform. . . Doxy.me (say it fast; it's a pun of sorts).  I have renamed my home office "Winston-Salem", the location of our Center .  Now, when I go downstairs for sessions, I tell my wife "I'm going to Winston-Salem".  Does not require the hour or so commute to the other office.

                                 Freud's Famous Couch
                          In Freud Museum, London, England

    The Chad  Mitchell Trio, a group popular in the 1960's, sang The Ballad of Sigmund Freud: "Well it started in Vienna not so many years ago when not enough folks were getting sick that a starving young physician tried to better his position by discovering what made his patients tick . . . "  Dr.  Freud famously conducted  psychoanalysis with the patient reclined on his couch.  Few therapists use that piece of furniture now.  For that matter, none of my colleagues even sit behind their desk while in session, dispelling another stereotype. And while still influential, Freud's theories hardly encompass the various modalities of contemporary therapy/counseling.

    Now, because of the Covid Pandemic, after 30+  years of doing face to face outpatient therapy, I, like many therapists, have transitioned to video 'tele therapy'. Initially, the 'learning curve, presented challenges because my tekkie skills are limited.  And even now EACH week seems to bring new 'learning opportunities'.  There were some normal anxieties associated with implementing the change. A few clients decided not to proceed; however, those who continued as well as new ones have expressed their satisfaction. Acknowledging the  'differentness'  helped to normalize the process.  Sessions initially focused primarily on establishing life routines for structure and identifying resources upon which to draw for promoting emotional stability.  

    So, to express the obvious . . . who knows 'how long' this will be standard practice.  Could not have foreseen it 'once upon a time'.
While I do not record sessions, I think it would be fascinating to see videos of sessions of the pioneers.  And, how would they have substituted their couches for computers . . .

                      Satchel