As therapists we often listen, take in, then interpret and advise but rarely do our clients get to peek behind the curtain and gain a glimpse of our own humanity.
We at Michelle Harwell Therapy are excited to take on this journey through humanity together with you.
Viewing entries tagged
grief
This interview with Stephanie Joy Jenkins is a sacred space where two paths converge - the path of a psychotherapist and the path of a soul companion. Stephanie offers a fresh perspective that intertwines seamlessly with the therapeutic work of grief, loss, connection and spiritual growth.
“I have heard trauma being described as anything that happens too fast, too soon, and/or too much such that those who endure it are not prepared to manage and integrate it effectively. I would add that another aspect of trauma is when we cannot hold the complicated and contradictory nature of these ‘TOO anything’ experiences. ”
It was early Thanksgiving morning. I woke up with a feeling of dis-ease. My body lay warm under bedding but the air around my face felt chilled, more by an eerie presence than the cool autumn air of our bedroom. I was on my back and paralyzed; legs pressed together as if attempting to merge my two human legs into a mermaid’s tail and arms pinned – one bent over my chest and the other pulling tight at my side. The only muscles that seemed to obey my mind’s command were the twelve that control the movement of my eyes. I peered to my right.
My fiancée laid gently breathing with his back inches from my unmovable figure. His presence was familiar but my eyes seemed to catch a lesser known form which almost hovered over his blanketed silhouette. I couldn’t quite make it out, but it felt human. My fears lay less about sensing this supernatural entity (as it felt benevolent rather than threatening) and more in the novelty of my presentation of symptoms.
I immediately began to diagnose and rationalize what was happening. “Mild visual hallucinations co-occurring during episodic sleep paralysis,” I thought. “Just wait a few moments…this will pass...average duration of this phenomenon is under 3 minutes.” I even justified the occurrence to myself: “What a year this has been, of course, I’d experience something like this. I bet there is a strong correlation between stress and sleep paralysis.”
Soon enough the hovering figure and my paralysis dissipated. First to reappear was the control of my toes. And as soon as I could utilize my arms and trunk, I turned to my bedside table and picked up my phone: 2:22am it read. “Odd” I thought and I noted this would be a exciting story to share with my partner, as it is customary for us to share our previous night’s dreams with one another in the morning.
But before our alarm could do its work, I woke up to my partner wide-awake and propped up on his elbow. It was still dark out. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“It happened,” he replied. “Grandpa’s gone. I know it”.
No more than 10 seconds later his phone rang. It was his mom. She told us Grandpa Joe (her father) had passed away early that morning.
“We are the paradox – continual growth amid the destruction. ”
After spending a few minutes of sharing grief and memories with his mom, he hung up the phone and we held one another. While this wasn’t a surprise (Grandpa had been diagnosed with Covid-19 two weeks ago and at 95-years-old statistics were against him), as with any passing, the finality hit hard and was compounded by the difficult reality of this pandemic: his family could not be physically with him as he passed.
I have heard trauma being described as anything that happens too fast, too soon, and/or too much such that those who endure it are not prepared to manage and integrate it effectively. I would add that another aspect of trauma is when we cannot hold the complicated and contradictory nature of these ‘TOO anything’ experiences. When terrible things happen, no matter how terrible things get, paradoxically there are simultaneously positive elements to come across… if we are able to hold the complexity of the whole situation. In other words, the ‘TOO anything’ of the trauma response makes it harder to see the ‘and’ in any situations – the good with the bad, the beautiful with the ugly, and joy with the pain.
And this year has been a consummate paradox: never-ending and passing in the blink of an eye; interpersonally isolative yet at times collectively connecting; communally traumatic while somehow showcasing our basic resiliency and unfettered hope. Though this pandemic may feel unprecedented (and in ways it is), this experience has made me reflect and imagine how traumatic events actually scaffold human existence throughout history.
Given the unknown intricacy of our natural universe, occurrences that are ‘TOO anything’ are experienced all the time on an individual and societal level. Natural disasters, war and persecution, death and destruction – one may say our joys are the exception to an overall experience of suffering. And yet, despite being continually traumatized, we (as a whole) carry on and continue to grow/mature/evolve. We are the paradox – continual growth amid the destruction.
This year has brought us a lot of ‘TOO anything’ experiences. After losing my partner’s grandfather on Thanksgiving morning, we then met with my family for a socially-distanced backyard Thanksgiving lunch where I blew my 92-year-old grandmother a kiss from more than 6 feet away. The pain of losing one family member was punctuated by the gratitude of being with family and that joy of being together for Thanksgiving was marred with the physical constraints of social distancing. I sat in the paradox of it, me and my partner at our own fold-out table situated more than 6 feet from the fold-outs of other households. My feelings vacillated minute by minute – the muck and the magic; the pleasure and the pain; the love and the loss.
I recall my feelings at the start of 2020. There was so much hope for the future. Cue 11 months later: a contentious election, a societal reckoning of social injustice, and resurgence of Covid-19 cases, which now hits (for me) even closer to home. I am overwhelmed and disheartened. Some days I struggle to show up for myself… let alone my family, friends, and clients. And yet I’ll continue to hold the paradox of this experience and try to remember that good things can happen while terrible things are underway. As Grandpa Joe was known for saying: “Keep your eyes on the horizon.” I’ll keep looking up and out, taking it all in, and letting each day provide whatever experience is meant for me to go through. I hope that in the midst of your overwhelm, you can allow for the paradox and keep your eyes on the horizon.
Lauren Ziel, MSW is a Registered Associate Clinical Social Worker, ASW #76483, working under the supervision of Michelle Harwell, LMFT. 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.
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.
Meditating on what “home” means to me stirs up a lot of feelings - sadness, pain, grief, fear, disappointment - just to name a few. Having moved homes frequently throughout my childhood and into adulthood, I always felt a strange knot in my stomach when someone would ask about my home or where I'm from; like there was so just too much too explain. As I’ve come into more stable footing and appreciation for the lessons I have learned through all of my moving around, I realize that to me home has always been a place within me. It’s a place that I often find through my connection to the Earth. When I am feeling at home within myself, my body literally feels connected to the ground beneath my feet, and I will imagine all the layers and elemental compounds of the Earth all the way to it’s core, while also tuning in to the shimmering rays of light or the movement of the air, all the way up to feeling the life that I am given by the sun. I come to feel at ease and grateful in the comfort I can take in my own breath and my own aliveness. I feel safe within myself and more eager to connect with the other earthlings living on this beautiful planet.
I trust in nature’s wisdom even through its death and destruction. As storms pass and seasons change, maybe even climates change, I am reminded of how complicated and tumultuous a place called home can be. Amidst the chaos and uncertainty I take solace in knowing that I am a person of the Earth and that I belong here. I hope we can all stay attuned enough to the moods of the only home we really have in this universe to do our part to conserve what we can for future generations of earthlings.
“When I am feeling at home within myself, my body literally feels connected to the ground beneath my feet, and I will imagine all the layers and elemental compounds of the Earth all the way to it’s core, while also tuning in to the shimmering rays of light or the movement of the air, all the way up to feeling the life that I am given by the sun.”
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.
Erika Mitchell, MA, is a Registered Associate Marriage and Family Therapist #109385, working under the professional supervision of Michelle Harwell, PsyD, LMFT 50732. Erika specializes in helping her clients bring mindful, attuned awareness to their sensations and emotions.
Ah envy, of all the emotions, you are certainly not my favorite. You seem to suck out all of my energy. You sweep away my perspective until I am left with only bitter tunnel vision. Sometimes, I’ll admit, you allow me to see more clearly what I want, and maybe even the steps I might take to get there. You can be an uncomfortable but helpful kick in the pants. But other times, you only allow me to see the inherent unfairness of life: that other people get what I want, and I don’t and that’s that.
In our world, some are given extraordinary opportunities, and some are not. Some will be able to have their own children, some will not. Some have a natural talent for learning and performing, some do not. The uneven distribution of desirable things is everywhere, and many people — despite deep desire and persistent effort — have still not obtained what came easily or freely to another.
It’s painful. Perhaps it calls for gratitude for what one does have, for grieving, or even lamenting the injustices that are folded into this life. Probably all of these things. But along with these responses, I think envy calls for a change in perspective.
“While envy can lead us to bitter tunnel vision focused on what we do not have, it can also open our eyes — if we’re willing — to an opportunity.”
While envy can lead us to bitter tunnel vision focused on what we do not have, it can also open our eyes — if we’re willing — to an opportunity. Our unfulfilled longing invites us into perseverance and the development of a certain kind of character. That kind of character has always been, and will continue to be, something that shapes the world. It’s powerful. It allows the doer to do more intentionally, more wisely, and maybe more gently. It allows the artist to illuminate life from a different angle. It allows the thinker to put words to those things that would otherwise never have been realized. The point is, wrestling with an unfulfilled longing creates something. If we’re willing, it can create something good.
Allison (Allie) Ramsey is a Marriage and Family Therapist Intern, IMF #94391, working under the professional supervision of Michelle Harwell, MFT 50732. Allie works with individuals on a broad range of issues, including anxiety, depression, relational challenges, faith integration, divorce, and aging.
