Home: Your Place in the Family of Things

This November, MHT is participating in the Miry’s List Friendsgiving Fundraising Drive. The money goes to programs that support refugee families that have been resettled in the United States. In tandem with these efforts, our clinicians are writing posts reflecting on what home means to them.

“...that is so much of what therapy is about—creating a home. ”

“Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.”

-       Mary Oliver, excerpt from the poem “Wild Geese”

When I think of the word home, I think first of a feeling…the feeling of a warm, summer night.

Home is sense of belonging, a sense of returning, of being found, of having a place—a place that waits just for you. That welcomes and loves you. Not so much a physical place but an emotional place. A place that can hold you, no matter what form you may arrive in. That remembers you, no matter how long you have been gone. That is the first thing I think of when I think of home.

And then, right after, I think of how often in the human experience we do not feel that. How often we feel the opposite of that—a lostness, a feeling of being strange to our self or to another, a homelessness. A longing for that feeling of coming home in the moments when it feels unreachable. To me, that is so much of what therapy is about—creating a home. A person, a place, an hour of the week, that is just yours. That holds and remembers you even when you feel strange and unfamiliar to yourself. That knows and welcomes you. And about how, over time, that sense of home becomes internalized—becomes not only a place that you go to with yourself and another in your hour each week, but a place inside yourself. What a lovely thing that is to build with another human. 

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HERE'S HOW YOU CAN PARTICIPATE IN FRIENDSGIVING WITH US:

Give! Visit our Miry’s List campaign page and make a donation. It's that simple and no sum is too small. Truly.

Follow! Be sure to follow us on Instagram and our blog throughout the month of November. We will be reflecting on what it means to be welcomed, received, and known.

Share!  Help us spread the word. You can do this by sharing our social media posts or links to our Miry’s List Friendsgiving Fundraiser page.

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A little about Miry’s List:
Refugee families come to the United States seeking a safe haven from violence and persecution in their home countries. They leave behind family and friends, as well as virtually everything they own. Many Americans, seeing these families in their communities, wonder: What can I do to help? Miry's List provides a mechanism for people to directly help new arrival refugee families with the things that they need to get started in their new lives – from diapers to beds to cleaning supplies and toiletries. To learn more, visit miryslist.org.

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Chelsea Small, MSW, is an Associate Clinical Social Worker, ASW #78503 working under the supervision of Saralyn Masselink, LCSW # 28617. Chelsea believes in the wisdom of the therapeutic relationship to ignite transformative growth. She has extensive experience working with people impacted by trauma, domestic violence, and the effects of emotional dysregulation.

Home: Where Memories Reside

This November, MHT is participating in the Miry’s List Friendsgiving Fundraising Drive. The money goes to programs that support refugee families that have been resettled in the United States. In tandem with these efforts, our clinicians are writing posts reflecting on what home means to them.

If we’re lucky, most of us can think of a place that we call “home.” Just saying the word aloud immediately conjures mental images – of a beloved apartment, a familiar city, or even a romantic partner. The feeling of comfort and security that accompanies these images is unmistakable.

 It’s difficult, however, to determine when a place has truly become our home. We move to a new house, or a new city, and perhaps we begin to call that place our home shortly after we arrive. How long, though, until the word “home” makes us think of this new place instead of the house where we grew up? Maybe there’s a minimum time required. But sometimes there are instances where that process happens almost immediately. There may be others where that sense of safety and warmth never arrives, even after we’ve lived somewhere for years.

 When we call some place home, it means that part of our memory rests there. A home is a place where we’ve shrieked with joy, where we’ve hurt and been hurt, where we’ve cooked and cleaned and hosted friends and fallen in love. When a place provides enough moments that make an imprint on us, that place has, in some sense, made us into somebody new. Perhaps a house becomes a home when, as a result of living there, we are a different person than we were before.

“When we call some place home, it means that part of our memory rests there. A home is a place where we’ve shrieked with joy, where we’ve hurt and been hurt, where we’ve cooked and cleaned and hosted friends and fallen in love. ”

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HERE'S HOW YOU CAN PARTICIPATE IN FRIENDSGIVING WITH US:

Give! Visit our Miry’s List campaign page and make a donation. It's that simple and no sum is too small. Truly.

Follow! Be sure to follow us on Instagram and our blog throughout the month of November. We will be reflecting on what it means to be welcomed, received, and known.

Share!  Help us spread the word. You can do this by sharing our social media posts or links to our Miry’s List Friendsgiving Fundraiser page.

******

A little about Miry’s List:
Refugee families come to the United States seeking a safe haven from violence and persecution in their home countries. They leave behind family and friends, as well as virtually everything they own. Many Americans, seeing these families in their communities, wonder: What can I do to help? Miry's List provides a mechanism for people to directly help new arrival refugee families with the things that they need to get started in their new lives – from diapers to beds to cleaning supplies and toiletries. To learn more, visit miryslist.org.

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Marguerite Maguire, MD, is a human-centered, general adult psychiatrist who has a special interest in Women’s Mental Health, particularly in health around pregnancy and hormone changes.

The Freedom of Movement

I fancy myself an amateur athlete. I love to move, to challenge myself, to constantly find facility over a physical skill. But there are modes of movement that I’ve shied away from because of a self-defeating belief that I cannot (or I am not made to) move that way.

“‘You’re in over your head. You could leave right now. Nobody would know,’ I heard my inner critic say.”

These beliefs have influenced specific movement patterns in my body – they are often linear and (sometimes) rigid. I run, lift weights, and move through yoga classes where poses are performed within the confines of a 2x6 foot mat. Over time I have noticed that my propensity towards these kinds movements parallels how I tend to orient within the world: I can be rigid in my thinking; I often follow rules with little question; if not attentive, I can slide into being dogmatic– focusing on the expectation or goal, forgoing my intuition, and lead myself into danger, injury, or overload.

Knowing that I have a tendency toward being overly controlled (in mind and body), I began to wonder about ways I could still enjoy the endorphins released by exercise while moving outside my proverbial fitness box. This wondering led me back to my self-effacing beliefs, to all the ways I’ve thought I was not made move: flowing, fluid, emotionally evocative, somatically dynamic.

I have always envied dancers. These artists (using their bodies as an instrument) tell stories in ways that are nothing short of miraculous. The control and skill needed to move so freely is a paradox that intrigues me. And my awe of them has always kept me an observer. My inner critic has scared me from engaging with such freedom in my own movement.

As I mused on this month’s theme of freedom here at MHT, I thought about how my inner-critic keeps me a prisoner of my own false beliefs. I know my critic functions (albeit misguidedly) to keep me safe. By assuming I am terrible at something, I don’t try. And if I don’t try, there’s no chance of failure. The critic helps me stay “good” and safe within my pre-conceived/contrived limits. 

But what if being good isn’t the point? I know that many of my athletic pursuits are motivated by wanting to gain speed, power, strength – some measurable unit of improvement. But there I go again thinking linearly. What if mastering movement isn’t the point? What if simply being movement is the point?

This reframe in intention brought me to The Sweat Spot - an unassuming dance studio tucked between a hip vintage clothing store and vinyl record shop (it’s in Silver Lake… so go figure). My heart was pounding. I hadn’t been in a dance studio since the screeching failure that was pre-k ballet lessons. I didn’t feel like I belonged here.

I’d paid and pre-registered for a class called Gaga People. If it was a Lady Gaga themed drag queen party, I actually might have been more comfortable.

Gaga People, developed by renowned dancer and choreographer Ohad Naharin, is described as a ‘movement language’. The class facilitates space for people to tune into a deep awareness with their present physical sensations and invites exploration and interpretation of those sensations with expressive movement (i.e.- movement language). The point of the class is to be the movement, to embody the sensations that are experienced.

I had no idea what to expect. I filled out a waiver and proceeded to a small staging area with benches, cubbies, and an in-wall window into the studio space. The preceding class was finishing up. I watched in awe as dozens of dancers performed some kind of primal modern choreography. The staging area began to fill with other Gaga attendees; they seemed un-phased by the talent on display. 

“You’re in over your head. You could leave right now. Nobody would know”, I heard my inner critic say.

“But what if being good isn’t the point? ”

Before I knew it, flushed and exuberant faces began cascading from the studio into the staging area. I pressed myself up against the closest wall and waited for my turn to walk into the studio – feeling like a cow being corralled toward the slaughterhouse.

There were more than two dozen of us - various ages, genders, ethnicities, & bodies all taking up a small portion of dance floor real estate. The instructor came to the center of the room and invited us to look at our hands and begin to move our fingers. 

“Imagine that each of your knuckles could move in all directions…” she said, “…like a ball & socket joint. Imagine and try to find as much movement in the joints of your fingers as you can find in your hips or shoulders.”

I knew (thanks to high school biology) that it was physically impossible but I was intrigued by what it felt like to try anyway. My mind was fully present in the sensations and efforts of my fingers, palms, and forearms. I had a fleeting feeling of expansiveness. I was trying to move in a way that I logically knew was impossible… and yet I acted into it anyway and felt more alive due to my effort. In that moment, I understood and embodied freedom.

Faulkner once wrote:  “We must be free not because we claim freedom, but because we practice it.” That Gaga class let me practice freedom. It helped me experience how I imprison myself, restrict my own freedoms, and how I can decide to let them go whenever I choose. 

For anyone interested in finding some embodied freedom, The Sweat Spot offers their Gaga People class Thursdays at 1pm. They’re located at 3327 Sunset Blvd. Los Angeles, CA 90026.

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Lauren Ziel, MSW is a Registered Associate Clinical Social Worker, ASW #76483, working under the supervision of Saralyn Masselink, LCSW . Through the use of movement and mindfulness, Lauren develops specialized treatment for anxiety, depression, eating disorders, challenges in life-stage transitions, relational difficulties, and identity/intrapersonal development.

The Delights of Nature

How delightful are these ornamental corn cobs? If you could pick one up and hold it in your hands, you’d get to feel the texture of the bumpy kernels, smooth and knobbly, you’d notice how glossy and bright each kernel appears, and if you looked closer, you’d see the amazing depth of color trapped beneath the surface of each membrane, the hues of red, purple, and blue. Each kernel is like a rare gem - a cob like a chest of rubies and sapphires!

As an adult I don’t take the time to soak in the details of nature like this very often. My delight in these corn cobs (and the imaginative lens to see them as gems) is a remnant from my childhood. When I was about 9 to 12, I used to become completely absorbed in studying the five or so ornamental corn cobs my mom would set out as part of the fall decor every year. I remember feeling a sense of wonder studying these corn cobs, amazed at how beautiful a vegetable could be! (Ha!)

Maria Montessori, whose philosophy of education is popular today, was a careful observer of children and how they learn, especially in nature. She noticed that when children are given time to freely explore the natural world, they often become instinctive students, natural scientists, absorbed in the details of grass, bugs, rocks and so on. And beyond showing impressive attention and observational skills, she noticed the emotional effect that this kind of time out in nature tended to have on them as well - the way they seemed to grow more fulfilled, happy, and serene.  

I think it’s fair to say it can have a similar effect on us as adults, too! This fall, whether its with your kids or your own inner kid - I hope you’ll make it outside to enjoy the sights, smells, and textures of nature.

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Allison (Allie) Ramsey is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist Therapist. Allie works with individuals on a broad range of issues, including anxiety, depression, relational challenges, faith integration, divorce, and aging. 

Fear No Dragons

Envy is one of those complicated emotions; it can sneak up and slap you in the face, stalk you stealthily, or slowly simmer for years. Often it demands to be hidden, and brings along its friends doubt, shame and worthlessness. Something about envy has the impulsive feeling of a small child’s cry, “I WANT!”, while the adult in us may look on asking why, and wonder what will soothe this want. Envy has regular haunts – social media, for example, is a favorite hang-out – and often seems to want to emphasize our separateness or distance from others. It compares, contrasts, measures.

“When greeted openly and without judgement, envy will likely be able to tell us things we didn’t realize before, help us to identify parts of ourselves that need attention and nurturing.”

I often find it useful to consider where an emotion is felt in my body; perhaps in the pit of my stomach, in the tightness or droop of my shoulders, in my clenched fists or shaking knees, or hovering in my chest breathlessly. These somatic responses provide helpful clues for understanding more about my emotions. If envy lies coiled in my stomach, is there fear and hunger connected with it? If in my clenched fists, is it connected somehow with anger? If envy makes my shoulders droop, is there a feeling of hopelessness along with it?

Envy alone does not inspire, but it can motivate. While envy’s language is the primal “I want”, “I lack”, “I need”, it isn’t simply those states alone. Another clue! Envy itself demonstrates that emotionally we’ve grown up enough to add the aspect of self-inhibition. We no longer simply move from ‘want’ directly into grasping, with little thought between. The want exists, but we hold back. Clearly this in many ways is a positive social development, however if it also means inhibiting awareness of our want it may be self-harming. Hidden in the dark, envy is able to coerce and dominate us without our knowledge. Envy is not a pleasant feeling, and we therefore often shun it, run it out of town before asking where it came from. When greeted openly and without judgement, envy will likely be able to tell us things we didn’t realize before, help us to identify parts of ourselves that need attention and nurturing.

Envy, when partnered with more sophisticated friends such as acceptance, gentleness, and compassion, becomes transformed. In this transformed state, envy may even spur us into positive action. Through such compassionate reflection we strengthen our own agency, our ability to act in the world and to understand and meet our own needs, balanced with those of others.

I’m reminded here of quote from Rainer Maria Rilke which seems to perfectly capture the paradox of envy: 

“Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love.”  ― Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

Perhaps, indeed, we can learn to greet envy as a helpful acquaintance able to point us towards unrealized paths in our lives.

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Natalie Cargill, MA, MFT and Art Therapy Intern, has two decades of professional experience with children, adolescents, and families, and is passionate about helping them thrive. As a therapist, Natalie works with clients of all ages, approaching therapy with both individuals and families through relational models, seeking to understand attachment patterns, and the systems that impact them.