Some sacred things are better communicated…

with pictures.

Boo!

Now how darn cute is she?

This is Bianca. My 13 year old, American Eskimo Spitz. I adore her. She adores me (even when I dress her up for Halloween).

What’s so funny?

I know some people have very mixed feelings about dressing up animals. I do it rarely and when I do, it’s only for quick photo ops.

In our house, it really is a dog’s life (and goat’s life). Bianca eats only organic dog food and yes, at times, only gets spring water. She takes a multi-vitamin every day, gets plenty of exercise and so much love its been deemed symbiotic by some. But there is something that always cracks me up when I see an animal dressed up and Bianca is no exception.

So, Steph, WHERE did you get this??

Shopping for our annual Halloween BooFire a few weeks ago, my niece saw this at Target.  She tapped me on the shoulder and held up the hat. We shared nothing but a nod as she tossed the hat into our cart onto a pile of other must-haves. For $1.oo, I figured, “Who even cares if it fits?” ;-)

Remember to keep an eye out for what makes you laugh today. As I say every week, it really is the best medicine.

So tell me, ever dressed your animals up…even if just for a quick photo op?

Who knew the topic of curtains would generate so much discussion?

I loved reading all your comments! Thank you for taking the time to stop on by.

Susan pointed out that curtains are an indication of a true commitment to a home. So I guess my interest in dressing our windows means we are ready to take things to the proverbial “next step” with this house we built. I’ll keep you posted on how the relationship progresses. Tomorrow, I am going to buy fabric for curtains in the dining room. The house, me and The Bird are going to take things slowly. One room at a time. We don’t want to smother each other. :-)

Today I’d like to offer a tip about the grieving process.

This time of the year, people often start to experience some twinges of emotion. If you venture into a Hallmark store or a local mall, all indications are you’re already behind on your Christmas shopping. All we need is the echo of The Salvation Army bells accompanied by their red, metal kettles to set off the mad holiday dash at this point.

Often though, the fall of the leaves and frost on the pumpkins draws the pain of loss up to the surface. Clients will say, “Steph, I’ve been feeling pretty good. I don’t know why I’m regressing not progressing.”

Here’s what I tell them.

The change of seasons is a trigger for feelings of loss. Oh, and any new feelings of grief are NOT a regression it is all progression. Remember, grieving is not a linear process. It is dynamic.

When the weather changes, so too, do our emotions. Memories of traditions with family or friends who have died from years past can wax nostalgia. It’s normal as a result to feel cranky, distracted, even unmotivated.

The good news?

This period of sadness will pass. Journaling, exercising, even a good cry can help. If the sadness persists and interferes with every day routines, consider seeking help. Grief counseling can be very effective. Trust me…I know.

Do you find any shift in your mood this time of the year?

See you Friday for somethin’ funny. Here’s a preview of this week’s post. Bianca is the star.

Fridays are funny around here because even I need a break from so much sadness and loss. So, in case you’re new to my place, Fridays I add levity because it really is the best medicine.

I don’t know what I would do without my nieces and nephews. God willing, I will never have to find out and with almost forty-one of them, I think I’m in good shape. :-)

Last night, I was on the phone with number 1-my very first niece who bestowed the beloved title of “Aunt” upon me first. She is only 5 years younger than I am so we are much more like sisters. When we are out together somewhere and we introduce ourselves as aunt and niece, people shake their heads like cartoon characters doing a double take. “Huh?” They say. Read more

A few weeks ago, I got a call from a gentleman looking to start therapy. In the last twelve months he buried his wife and father.

“I’m really surprised. I thought by now I’d be feeling much better. Some days I feel like I’m actually getting worse.”

Don’t fall for this!

In my line of work as a grief and loss therapist, I hear this expectation on a pretty regular basis. It is a myth that after the first year, those grieving the loss of a loved one will feel like they’ve turned a magical corner. If I could find the culprit who started this vicious rumor, I’d give it a good smack on what we Italians like to call the culo.

It’s Dynamic

Grieving is not a linear process. It is dynamic-it changes over a lifetime. People often say, “You’ll have good days and bad days.” I like to break it down even further. How you feel will change from moment to moment.

You are normal…it’s all normal

Most of the time, what people who are grieving need is some education about the process. This is what my client needed. He needed to know he wasn’t “losing his mind” because he cried more now than he did a year ago. He needed to know that his recent bout with sleeplessness could be attributed to this anniversary and a continued need to mourn. Once he discovered what he was feeling, thinking, and doing was all normal his anxiety reduced and he began to sleep more easily.

Tuesdays tip: Grief is dynamic.

While it would be wonderful to think after a year life returns to “normal” that’s simply a myth. The second year is often harder than the first because the reality begins to set in. The good news is, however, that over time, we do begin to find a new normal and the pain and sorrow do subside but when that actually begins to happen is very individual.

Know someone who might benefit from this Tuesday’s tip? Please pass it on!

What have been your experiences? Following the death of a loved one, when did you notice you began to have more peaceful moments than sorrowful ones?

See you Friday for something much lighter. :-)

Suggested reading: How To Go On Living When Someone You Love Dies by Therese Rando, Ph.D.

On a Lighter Note

Friday’s are funny around here. So much of what I write about has a mighty heavy tone (even I can only take so much grief and loss) and I know, I for one, need a chuckle to balance things out.

This week, Funny Friday comes courtesy of a video my husband sent me that made me laugh out loud, on a day when I was in desperate need of levity. Read more

Tuesday Tips

This tip is for Dads- buy your daughter(s) flowers.

When I was six years old, our door bell rang. It was February 14, 1973 and my twin sister and I were first-graders.

Just off the school bus, Gee and I were in our room peeling off our parochial school uniform jumpers when my Mom stood at the doorway and said, “Did you hear the door bell? You girls might want to go see who’s at the door.”

Our home was perched on Nectar Lane, a cul-de-sac in an early 1970′s suburban subdivision in bucolic Chester County, Pennsylvania. Growing up a knock at the door or chime of the doorbell was a quotidian occurrence.  We didn’t lock our doors, the kids played outside long after the sunset and in the winters we ice-skated on the two neighborhood ponds.  When the door bell, rang, Gee and I figured it was either Doree, Dayna or Lori, our childhood friends, sporting rosy cheeks with ice-skates slung over their shoulders anxious to ask, “Can the twins come out to play?”

My Mom rarely displayed a sense of urgency, so when she suggested we go see who was at the door, Gee and I ran around the hallway corner, pulling sweaters over our heads. To this day, I’ll never forget what greeted us when we got to the end of the hallway and made the sharp right passed the iron railing toward the front door.

There with two long white boxes with bright pink ribbons tied around them, stood my Dad. Leaning on the top box, he signed a piece of paper and offered a hearty, proud thanks to a delivery boy bundled up in a black peacoat standing outside on our front stoop.

I remember being slightly confused. The whole scene felt foreign but the grin on my Dad’s face spoke of a seminal event.

He slammed the door shut, turned and handed us the two foot packages. “For you girls. Happy Valentine’s Day!”

The four of us walked into the living room and there on our wool, orange serpentine couch, Gee and I tore open the boxes. Inside on a cushion of baby pink crepe paper were a dozen delicate pink roses. The buds barely peaked open. Resting on top of the bouquets were small, furry grey squirls with red bows tied around their necks and a sign that read, “Be mine.”

It’s one of the first times in my life I ever remember feeling like I mattered.

“For us, Daddy?” we asked. My Mom responded because my Dad was too teary to talk. “Daddy wanted to be the first man to send you girls flowers.”

Gee and I kept those squirrels and the pink bows from the long white boxes tied around our canopy beds well into our teenage years. I’ve been a lucky girl to have been blessed with many a flower delivery over the years but every time I’ve answered the door to a delivery man, I am reminded that my Daddy was the first.

When is a time when you felt like you mattered?

This picture is from Center City Philadelphia last night.

The Bird and I saw it yesterday on our date in the city. This banner hangs from one of the most prestigious private clubs in the city.  In case you haven’t heard, our Phillies are on the brink of clinching The National League Division Series.

So, what’s so sacred about this banner?

Baseball, in my humble opinion, is not really just about the game. Sports is often the great unifier. The thrill of the Philles’ run transcends all socio economic, race, sex,  age, and size barriers. Blue-bloods and blue collar’s alike, are all on the same team this time of year around here. Egos, psychological facades, income levels, all those man-made distinctions melt away-we are one people. It just so happens the Phillies brought us all together.

GO PHILLIES!

Where my Jimmy Fallon fans at? (I know that’s a fine butchering of grammar but it sounds funny…at least to me).

I love Jimmy Fallon and yes, I mean love. That’s no hyperbole my friends. Not in an, “Oh my God, he better call me, text me, Facebook chat me!” love but in the, “He has a great personality,” love way. Only The Bird has my true heart. :-)

Anyway, I digress.

Laughter is often the balm my spirit needs after a day companioning clients grappling with grief and loss. Jimmy Fallon makes me laugh. Some nights he makes me laugh-out-loud-laugh.

So, this week, he tweeted a hashtag #mycoworkerisweird and asked viewers to tweet their answers. The following tweet, cracked me up.

#Mycoworkerisweird because he likes to stand by the bathroom and whenever someone comes out he smacks their butt and yells, “Good job buddy, you did it!”

Seriously? Either way you look at it, fact or fiction, that’s funny.

If you have a weird coworker, what would you tweet? I would tweet #mycoworkerisweird because she walks on four legs. ;-)

Have a wonderful weekend!

Last week, when I flew home from my trip to Florida to visit my Dad, I gazed out the window of the plane as we made our descent into Philadelphia.

The Price Was Right!

There was a time when I was petrified to fly. Before my own days “on the couch” I had some ridiculous belief that my fate would be sealed on a large metal flying object during a trip I won on The Price Is Right. Straight out of the DSM-IV, I suffered from a phobia. (In 1991, I was a contestant on the show and won the showcase showdown which included three trips-one to Rome, one to Tokyo and a third to Maui). Read more