Trust--A Path to Freedom from Fear

Anxiety is more than "jitters", nervousness and worry. For many sufferers, anxiety ultimately is rooted in a sense of being unsafe, out of control or mired in unpredictability.  If we peel back the worries, examine the distorted thoughts that fuel anxiety and panic, we find that people struggle with trusting that things will work out. They fear the worst, predicting horrible outcomes and creating potential responses to negative situations that haven't yet happened. When clients slow the internal maelstrom to look critically at their mental scripts, we can work together to develop a plan to help clients recreate a sense of trust in the world. Through tools like thought stopping, mindfulness, addressing mistaken beliefs and exploring their spirituality, clients can begin to learn that the Universe will provide for them, that risks are worth taking, and that the outcomes that await them are filled with possibilities.

Medical Collaboration in Therapy

At the initial therapy appointment, your counselor may ask you to sign a physician collaboration form. This consent allows your therapist to contact your internist, family practitioner or medical specialist to ensure you receive the most consistent, comprehensive care throughout your therapy experience.

A Team Approach

More often than not, clients initially question the need to have their primary care physician involved in their counseling. "Why does my doctor need to know I'm seeking therapy?" clients may wonder. Issues of confidentiality may also arise; I've had clients express concern that the information they share in counseling will be automatically communicated to their physician. The therapist should educate and reassure the client that only information pertinent to the client's physical health will be shared, and even     then, only with the client's knowledge and complete agreement. Perhaps even more importantly, therapists need accurate information about a client's current and past medications and dosages, illnesses that may affect emotional health (i.e., thyroid disorders, diabetes) and previous or planned medical procedures that may impact a client's mood or functioning. Creating an effective, individualized treatment plan for each client requires a thorough understanding of the individual's physical and emotional health. Collaborating with your physician helps ensure that all treating providers are fully informed of how to help support you through the therapy process, providing the best chances of an efficient and effective therapy experience. 

Lessons from the Desert

The Arizona desert seemed like an odd vacation destination in the beginning of August. My family was sure they would melt in the heat, and I had to cajole them with promises of daily ice cream outings and a hotel room next to the pool. But in the midst of the stark, dry landscape, we discovered these timeless lessons:

A change of scenery creates a new inner perspective. Our three-hour flight from Chicago brought us from a humid, muggy, and flat landscape to a terrain of cactus-pocked mountains, arid rolling desert and hiking paths framed by red dirt. Arizona is as different from Illinois in topography as an elephant is from a shark. A two-hour time difference showed us how vastly disparate reality can be; no ONE perspective or viewpoint is the absolute truth.  All we know and feel is influenced by our surroundings.

Beauty, danger and sustenance co-exist naturally. During our tour to the Grand Canyon, we learned that certain cactus bloom with vibrant, gorgeous flowers that dot the desert with fiery color. Other succulents contain a toxin that can create illness and even death in other creatures. And others contain enough moisture to keep a lost hiker alive for days. Those things that scare or amaze us can be our savior as easily as they can be our ruin. 

Risk can bring reward. Hiking the trails of the Grand Canyon is arduous and even frightening at times. I considered turning back when the temperature rose above 110 degrees, and the path narrowed to a foot-wide ledge dipping dangerously into a steep decline. But when the guide urged me to continue through a low-hanging arch, I was gifted by eons-old pictographs etched into the canyon's face, images of animals, fish, human handprints left by our ancestors. Pushing past my fear and fatigue brought me a sense of connection to generations past that I could have easily missed.

The Child Inside

As my son enters his junior year of high school, I am regularly reminded that he will soon be launching from our everyday lives into a more independent, autonomous incarnation.  This summer has been chock full of milestones: he got his drivers license, his first part-time job, and braces within a two-week span. His height and hairiness alone are constant reminders that a man-child occupies the bedroom down the hall. My son would like me to focus on the "Man" part of his identity (I.e., provide him with unlimited driving privileges and throw my support behind 17-hour video game marathons), and I have found myself praising his use of mature logic and a burgeoning understanding  of consequences of his behavior. (When a recent all-night gaming session was followed by 6 hours of herding grocery carts in 90 degree heat, my son assured me he "wouldn't be doing that again anytime soon.") Noting that the browser history on his iPad included "college scholarships" and "saving for a car", I feared my son's childish goofiness was being replaced too soon by a grown-up seriousness, a focus on planning his future.

KIDS WILL BE KIDS

And then last weekend happened. My wife, son and I met up with my best friend, Monica, and her daughter at the mall to shop for wedding attire for Monica's upcoming nuptials. I overheard the kids kvetching about how long it would talk them to save money for a car of their own, and compared experiences with rubber bands and braces. Listening to them, I was again reminded of the swiftness of time, of how quickly our children go from holding our hands in crowded stores to rolling their eyes at our fashion suggestions. But in the midst of my melancholic musings, Riley and Courtney decided to pretend the escalator was an opportunity to show off "surfing poses." (Mind you, we live in the Midwest--neither child has seen a SURFBOARD in real life, much less ridden a wave). They challenged each other to surreptitiously take candid photos of fellow shoppers, and they imitated the awkward contortions of store mannequins. Courtney teased Riley about his penchant for eyebrow waxing, and he blushed crimson when we busted him checking out a young lady exiting a dressing room.  We laughed all afternoon at our kids'  sarcastic jokes and goofy attempts to get me to try on outfits 20 years too young for me. Their playfulness reminded me that our childlike "parts" are never fully buried. No matter how old they -- or I -- become, the silliness, energy and lack of self-consciousness that speak of childhood is still available to us. If we can notice and celebrate the "child" in our growing children as a gift they never need to fully leave behind, we impart the lesson that adult-ness is not the "end-game" of living. And by keeping alive the child within US, we can ensure that playful connection with our kids and our world is but a decision away. Next time I encounter an escalator, watch out, because I call "SURF'S UP!"

Expecting the Best

A healer and energy therapist, Carol Tuttle challenges us to assume the BEST. Of ourselves, our circumstances, the motivations of others. That simple shift opens us to possibilities that anxiety, fear and negativity can never provide. When I invite a calm, productive day to unfold before me, I am much more likely to notice glimmers of grace: an effortless drive into the office, a blue jay perched in a tree above me on my morning walk, a Facebook shout-out from an old friend. Even when obstacles creep into my awareness, my expectation for positive happenings somehow cushion me from their sharp corners. I used to consider "looking on the bright side" to be naive, a Pollyanna-ish approach to a complex, sometimes scary world. But, as Tuttle suggests, if we assume the Universe is moving more and more towards operating on a higher energy level than ever before (I.e., more rapid medical and technological advances than in past centuries combined, longer human life spans, more people adopting lifestyles conducive to spiritual wellness), we can more genuinely embrace the belief that goodness and plenty ARE boundless. My capacity to love, to invest more deeply in my work and my relationships, even my physical activity levels are expanded when I turn my focus from what is broken, scary, and stuck to an expectant invitation to all that is lovely and nourishing and forward-moving to enter my awareness. No, I haven't forgotten that pain and trauma and loss and injustice exist around the globe, even around the corner. (I AM a social worker, after all!). But, time after time, I find that looking for the good, even inviting and EXPECTING its arrival, is a practice with no negative cost. Why wouldn't I choose to delight in my dogs' cute wiggling behinds as they chase each other in the yard, or flood my senses with the comforting smell and feel of my son's hair fresh from the shower? A driving teacher in high school, of all people, was a wise philosopher of sorts when he warned me, "You'll STEER at whatever you STARE at." In the past, I could easily drive myself into the chaos of depression, hopelessness and fear. But today, I'm choosing to steer toward joy.

"For Life and Death Are One" -- Khalil Gibran

I attended two memorial services over the weekend. Jim, a friend from church, died after a long illness, and my high school friend's mother, Marilyn, passed unexpectedly. Both of these beloved people were past 80, although their lengthy lives don't alter the grief of their family and friends. As I connected with old friends, church members, and family members of those who had passed, we shared stories about our loved ones. We laughed at old tales from our childhood, joked about church politics, teased one another about graying hair or faulty knee joints.

LETTING GO, MOVING ON 

As the sharing went on, our memories of Julie's mom, of Jim's decades-long commitment to the church, gave way to queries about each others' kids: had they started college visits? who was anxious about the ACT? which parents would be delighting in their empty nest, and which would be caught off guard by sorrow? We provided updates about our own aging parents, fussed over Jim's widow and children. We pencilled in coffee dates that were long overdue. We updated cell numbers and email addresses, traded names of tutors for reliable referrals to orthodontists. Even in the midst of our breaking hearts, we couldn't resist attending to the daily tasks of living. As we wept, we were aware of the breath catching in the person beside us, could hear the signs of the mourner behind us. I realized that, as much as I tried to wrap my mind around the reality that I would not share space again with Jim or Marilyn in this incarnation, my heart was filled with love for the people around me, my mind with plans for the future. I was aware of a knee-jerk guilt for not mourning "more" for the souls who wouldn't be here for the next holiday, the missed hugs and family portraits. But equally present was the sense that, even in grief, our instinct needn't be to STOP living, but to look FORWARD. Despite the holes in our hearts, the space our loved one's one leave that will be forever gaping in our lives, we can choose to move ahead, to embrace one another, to honor those who are gone by loving and living with all that we have. Perhaps that's the truest, most honest memorial of them all. 

The Many Faces of PTSD -- Part III

SEEKING HELP FOR PTSD 

Treatment for PTSD can help symptoms from getting worse, especially if help is sought soon after the event. But regardless of how long ago the traumatic event occurred, the following therapy options can help sufferers move forward, away from the feeling of being "trapped" in the trauma, to a future of calm, strength and hopefulness:

1. Family therapy

2. Trauma-focused cognitive behavioral therapy

3. Medication to alleviate secondary symptoms like depression, difficulty sleeping, panic or agitation

4. Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing (EMDR) therapy

Like a home that needs to be rebuilt after a devastating tornado, the life of a survivor with PTSD can as surely be refashioned to allow the survivor to reclaim her power and step confidently into a resilient future.

If you or someone you know has been diagnosed with PTSD, reach out to your physician or contact a mental health professional in your area for help, The suffering of PTSD doesn't have to last--you have the right to take back your life and to move forward with health and happiness.