The Mystery of Parenting

Future counselor or not, I don’t think I could begin to give parenting advice. Parents learn quickly: What in the heck do we know? But it helps to share the moments that go well. Still, just when we get a little cocky and think we have something figured out, it either backfires or something new springs up out of nowhere. It’s like some persistent virus or the brooms in Disney’s "Sorcerer’s Apprentice." Disney’s version in Fantasia was based on Goethe’s poem "Der Zauberlehrling."

Essentially, the apprentice (played by Mickey Mouse in Disney’s version) grows tired of hauling water and when the sorcerer leaves, Mickey dons his boss’ hat and uses the wand to enchant a broom to help carry water. But when the broom goes out of control flooding the room, Mickey cuts it in two, but then both halves come alive, turning into full brooms like planarians and carrying more buckets of water. The more he axes the brooms, the more brooms there are running around until chaos reigns and water is pouring from the house until the sorcerer returns.

Parenting isn’t quite so bad, and there are plenty of resources to consult, but in a way, it is that bad, especially if we don’t take responsibility for our stuff, and as a result perpetuate unhealthy patterns. But, no resources can tell you exactly what’s right for your kid. It’s an intuitive process of educating ourselves, listening, remembering how we felt as children and applying the combined knowledge creatively (on our best days). On our worst days we say to Hell with the books and intuition, and we set all our best efforts back ten paces and flood the house with stress hormones. If we are to parent well, our contract should guarantee hot meals made for us, at least seven consecutive hours of sleep, and an annual trip to Hawaii (kid free)! Taking care of ourselves so that we can take care of others is so important.

I am surprised at how many people do not remember their childhood, or don’t remember how they felt. I am a day dreamer and my short term memory has never been that great, but I remember what it was like to be three like it was yesterday. My main beef as a kid (and I had plenty for which to be grateful) and a large part of why I have become a counselor had to do with being taught to stuff my feelings. In general, kids that didn’t were ostracized and criticized by adults. There didn’t seem to be a happy medium – there were either good, quiet kind children or raging, unruly children. No one knew how to walk in the gray area. That's not anyone's fault - it was cultural.

As counselors we are supposed to be up on the latest innovations, discoveries and decisions about diagnosis. Fortunately, while we are required to have an awareness of diagnosis, we can refer to a psychiatrist for that. Ultimately, after all of the reading and classes, it comes down to using experience, smarts and intuition – like parenting: reading, listening, remembering, being creative and holding unconditional positive regard.

“Unconditional positive regard” was coined by humanist Carl Rogers. It would be a great concept to also apply to our children who are trying to stay afloat and swim forward in a sea of technology and hormones. It’s no wonder so many of them disappear into a bedroom and close the door! We are their guardians, which means while they despair and flounder, we are asked to remain centered so that they can stand on our foundation until they build one of their own. We are discovering now that brains don’t develop until much later than we once thought. Being their guardians doesn’t mean pandering to every desire, but it does mean we are asked to deal with our own stuff and face our personal shadows. The better we are at clear communication and boundaries, authenticity and compassion, the better models we are for healthy living. So, I guess I can’t proclaim: “Do as I say and not as I do.” Lord knows I have resorted to that a few times. This sweating, breathing, parenting, eating, loving thing called life is messy, but more now than ever there are techniques and support to get healthy and mindful. We don’t have the excuses our grandparents had. The Sorcerer always comes home.

Life and Death

My dad, Jerry, wrote to me about a conversation he had with a friend of his who is dying. Dad said that the conversation felt “unsatisfying,” that he may have made his friend feel worse. The trouble with death is we can’t fix it. I remember when the family guinea pig died. My mom and stepdad were out of town and I was taking care of my much younger half siblings. They watched as I dug a hole in the front yard to lay the little furry squealer. My sister (about age 4) was crying as I lowered it into the hole, but my brother (age 2) was angry. “Don’t put it in there. Wait until Daddy gets home. He’ll fix it!”

In my reply to my Dad, I wrote that I can't imagine what it's like to be losing a friend and trying to find the right words. But, I continued, in my minimal experience with death, it seems like people always want to find the right things to say when the best thing we can do is to listen and be present with what they are telling us. I remember when my dad’s mother, Margo (or Nonnie as we all called her), was nearing the end of her life. She said: "Everyone seems to want to tell me what I'm going through when I'm the one dying." Maybe I was afraid to hear what she'd say. Fear gets in our way. Death is a solitary, often lonely, process it seems, but we can learn from each other's experience of it. So maybe just my dad taking the time to be on the phone with his friend was enough.

When my stepdad, Phil, was facing death, deteriorating from Multisystem Atrophy (MSA), he seemed so resigned and lost in a way. One day I was sitting next to him on the bed watching TV and he said that he had dreamed he died the night before. I asked him what it was like and he said: "It wasn't so bad!" and then he laughed. I couldn’t believe we were laughing about something so grave. But, I learned that to keep our senses of humor even in the face of death is the way to go.

I am fascinated by death and how people die in peace - or not. For an assignment for my Masters in counseling program, I interviewed a chaplain at our local hospice. He said that he helps people find meaning, which helps regrets take a back seat. He said he listens to their stories and then points out how they contributed to the world and to others' lives. As a counselor, though, we primarily work with the grieving families so I’m not sure I will move in that direction. I want the chaplain's job!

One of my favorite books is A Year to Live by Stephen Levine. He says: “In whatever condition and conditioning we find ourselves, whether we have just won the lottery or discovered we have only a year to live, there is a basic, even essential, gratitude contemplation that is always appropriate…It acknowledges the enormous opportunity of being alive and awakening to our true nature.” Every page of that book is precious and I am moved no matter how many times I read it. Essentially, when loved ones around us are dying we are given, again, the gift of life and an opportunity to deepen our relationships to self and others and to appreciate this day, this moment in these dear bodies. And when it comes to their experience of transitioning from this planet, all we can do is listen and bravely follow their cues.