Dr. Valarie C. Cascadden

Warning: Complacency Can Be Hazardous to Your Health

2012-01-21T10:49:00.000-08:00

For a modern-day object lesson, first listen to this from the Rolling Stones:

"19th Nervous Breakdown":

And then this:

"You Can't Always Get What You Want":

Much has been written about how greed is at the basis of our current economic mess. Okay, I'll grant you that -- for awhile, we became spoiled brats, feeling we were not only entitled to, but dammit, we needed a second or third house, or that luxury vehicle, or that boat that only ended up under a tarp in the garage after a time or two on the lake. I'll fess up, I once had a rather long "gotta have this" list. Once I let go of a lot of these internalized demands, it freed me to be able to enjoy what I actually have.

I'd like to suggest that, for those of us (me included) who have been fortunate enough to weather, more or less, the current economic storms, that it's complacency we need to look at. Many of us boomers are realizing that our list of absolute "needs" are pretty damned short, and our "wants" are mercifully negotiable.
As I'm getting older, I'm more personally aware of the benefits of gratitude.

I live in a 1923 house which needs some remodeling and upgrading. These projects are not vital, but they are feasible, and will be done eventually. As trite as it sounds, the fact that the roof is sound, and this has been our family homestead since 1964, is my daily prayer of thanksgiving and humility.

I have work that I love to do, even on days when it's challenging and even sometimes heartbreaking.

My relatives sometimes perplex and irritate me, but their mine, and yes, I love them. Period, no debate.

Ditto all my friends.

At 57, I have pretty good health. And it's getting better, now that I'm steadily losing the excess weight.

So, I want to say that thanksgiving is something I will consciously do on a daily basis, not just on that one gluttonous day in November. Counting blessings doesn't have to be only a spiritual exercise; it's a sound practice for mental health.

Complacency is the antithesis of gratitude. And it fades away when I look around, and take stock of how very lucky I've always been.

Love and blessings to everyone this day, and always.

Transitions

2012-01-07T22:21:00.000-08:00

And now comes the "fun" part...combing through my email address book, and all the business/social sites I'm on, and updating my profile.

As of today, I've launched my two new websites:

To replace the antiquated, cluttered website for my psychotherapy practice, I can now be found at:
www.midlifementalwellness.com. I previously saddled myself with a rather cheerless domain name: www.midlifecrisesrecovery.com (Yikes, what was I thinking when I chose that one??). With the end of this billing cycle coming up, I felt the time was long overdue to freshen up my image.

And...to further promote my writing, I've got a second web domain: www.writepowerfulwords.com. I think of the careful use of language as a neglected skill, one that each of us--and civilization as we know it--needs to rescue before the art fades into oblivion. Sorry if that seems melodramatic, but it's my passionate belief.

Therapy. Teaching. Writing. My life.

It's now 10:17 PM, and except for seeing a couple of clients this afternoon, I've been laboring on Vistaprint's web self-design site most of the day. Tiggy is coming to my side at the desk, meowing and pleading for me to go to bed, as she does when I'm up too late.

So, it's off to bed, and up tomorrow in the early morn. Have a look at these sites when you can.

'Night.

Turning the Page to 2012

2011-12-31T07:15:00.000-08:00

New Year's has always been one of my favorite holidays. My first recollection of celebrating is New Year's 1963, when my big brother bet me a whole dime that I couldn't stay awake until midnight.

Never one to easily shrink from a challenge, I became ten cents richer when 1964 was ushered in.

So, perhaps "staying awake" is something of which I will want to do more in 2012...being more observant, more deliberate, more patient, more thoughtful in lending my voice to the human chorus, and more willing to take intelligent risks.

Much as been said about how horrible 2011 has been. Well, here are some wonderful things I've experienced:

In a previous post, I told about how enriched I felt when I heard Jason Poole speak at my church about "showing up and saying yes." With self-interest still being a major principle in today's world, perhaps I should ask myself what would I lose--or more importantly, gain--by "saying yes" to needs I see around me.

One treasure I'm been meaning to share with readers is a show I discovered recently on byuTV, "The Story Trek." They have a Facebook page (which I've "liked") and are mentioned on byuTV.org. I'm not a Mormon, but I count many of them among my dear old friends from Burbank High School, and am honored by their love. "The Story Trek" is a utterly heartwarming show, as host Todd Hansen goes into the heart of everyday towns, and finds "ordinary people" to tell their "extraordinary stories." In a day when television is loaded with so-called "reality shows," I find shows of this caliber so very refreshing. They've just wrapped their season finale; I can't wait to see more.

In 2011, I have continued to watch "Music and the Spoken Word," with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Fine-arts fan that I am, I look forward to each broadcast. Again, another refuge on the much maligned and abused television medium.

Even the byuTV station identification is nice: "Helping You to See the Good in the World." How uplifting is that?

Among my choices of reading material (much of which I've already shared with readers), I continue to be comforted and inspired by Spirituality & Health Magazine. The new issue (January/February) has a piece, "What Went Wrong with Wheat." Many of my friends have been discussing the gluten-free trend, and so the article was of interest. Grains have been consumed for much of human history, but the article states that we may have engineered this staple out of safe consumption. I'm sure there are those who say the jury's still out on this issue. Excuse me, but in my humble opinion, engineering is something better done when building bridges, not growing our daily bread. It's so risky on so many levels. We often talk about "playing God," and this is an example it can come back to harm us. Perhaps we humans are not ready to assume such responsibility, unless we can then deal with the consequences. This magazine continues to give me (pardon the pun) food for thought. It has something for everyone, regardless of one's religious/spiritual inclination.

Back to a smile, I look forward to the new year. Even though "New Year's" is an artificial construct, it's become a way we've come to pause, celebrate, reflect, resolve, and move forward. However you mark it--whether or not dimes are at stake--do it with joy and hope.

Some More "Show & Tell" Before 2011 Ends

2011-12-29T09:50:00.000-08:00

www.latimes.com/la-me-bottle-farm-20111204,0,7734030.story#.TvymKu2pZrI.blogger">Bottle+Tree+Ranch+is+a+folk+art+%26%23039%3Bforest%26%23039%3B+in+the+Mojave+Desert

While doing my long-promised pre-New Year's cleaning, I found this article, clipped from the L.A. Times on December 4, about Elmer Long's Bottle Tree Ranch in the Mojave Desert. I'm finally sharing it here as more evidence of my love for all things quirky, be they people, destinations, or projects. Does anyone out there remember the famous lone phone booth that was in the desert before "the company" yanked it out? It was even on a "60 Minutes" segment, and people from literally all over the world came to talk on "the phone." I sincerely hope Mr. Long's glass creation is in existence for a long time. I'd like to see Huell Howser do a show on it.

On a more serious note, I also found another L.A. Times article, from November 20, which is another example of generativity (see the prior post on this) and also redemption. The man featured in the article, John Paul Madrona, was only born in 1975, but I'm convinced that the attribute of generativity doesn't have to be limited to seniors. Working in hospice service, especially among the prison population, surely must serve to remind one of the chances we all have, each day of our lives, regardless of the circumstances, to make a difference for ourselves and others.

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-1120-prison-hospice-html,0,6904576.htmlstory

Now for an example of "reverse generativity," I've been encouraged to see evidence of course offerings in "Healthy Aging" (remember how not too many years ago, the concepts of healthy and aging were regarded as contradictory?). UCLA has a Geronet website (http://www.geronet.ucla.edu), and I read on December 11 in the L.A. Times that the College of the Canyons is offering a Certificate in Skills for Healthy Aging Resources and Programs. This is wonderful -- preparing people to be actually educated in the theory of the developmental stage of the elderly, and practice of how to serve them. If caregivers know what to expect when faced with a senior, they will not feel the fear or hesitation that so often comes in "not knowing what to do." Seniors' care will be greatly enhanced. Suspected cases of elder abuse and neglect (the ones stemming from, as I said, the caregivers' not having adequate skills and being overwhelmed) hopefully be reduced, and the "younger folks" will also have their own aging processes demystified.

I've told readers previously about my fondness for More magazine. The current issue (December/January) features a profile on Denise Thomas, owner and founder of Home Instead. This company's mission is to assist seniors to remain comfortably, safely, and with dignity, in their own homes as they live out their remaining years. I worked for Huntington Hospital's Senior Care Network from 2001 to early 2006, and not once did I encounter a senior who positively begged to be shipped off to a skilled nursing facility (SNF, for those in the field). Don't get me wrong; there are many fine skilled and assisted living establishments around. It's just that I found that an older adult--surrounded by the safe familiarity of their furniture, photos, and curios holding so many memories--can dodge the depression that can settle in and then masquerade as "dementia."

Queen Latifah's sassy smile graces the cover of this issue, which also has terrific advice for us ladies that we can actually use -- about retirement options, money, health, and how dress so we look like the gorgeous women we are--forces to be reckoned with and taken seriously.

It's been my pleasure to find items, and pass them along to you, dear readers. I'm not sure about the idea of reincarnation; but, if it's true, perhaps I'll come back as a librarian next time around!

Happy New Year! I have high hopes for 2012--really.

Why Us Old Folks Need to Still Be Around

2011-12-21T11:53:00.000-08:00

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-banks-20111217,0,6676350.column">Retired Los Angeles judge launches literacy project

The above is a link to a wonderfully inspiring piece I read in last Sunday's L.A. Times about retired Judge James Reese. Appropos to the holiday season of giving, I invite you to take a few minutes to read this article by Sandy Banks.

Anyone who has ever sat through a "Psych-101" type of class may have a passing knowledge of the life-stages theory of Erik Erikson. As I read about Judge Reese's recent $100,000 gift to USC--to kick-start a local literacy program--I immediately thought of Stage 7, Generativity versus Stagnation.

From his seat on the bench in Compton, Judge Reese saw human costs of poor education. When he sentenced young men to what we now call "community service," the recidivism rate was often driven by the offenders' inability to read instructions, and hence hold the jobs that kept them out of jail. Later, the judge's learned through online research that illiteracy rates, in some areas, were used as an index of future needed number of jail cells. So, here's evidence of the ripple effect of illiteracy -- personal, societal, legal, judicial. So much easier to educate a youth and make him/her a productive citizen, rather than clean up after his/her despair later on, you think?

Generativity is simply a fancy word for the ability and willingness of the older generation to care for, and contribute to the growth and future success, of the succeeding generation. Judge Reese, at age 92, has done more than just have concern for young men's education. He has put that feeling into action by providing means to facilitate their ability to read. His mother before him had modeled the importance of basic skills in becoming independent members of society.

Bob Seeger is another one who continues to provide inspiration for boomers and younger pop artists. I read about him in today's L.A. Times Calendar section. He's 70 now, and says that he could be retire at any time. Still, in the meantime, he's got the likes of Garth Brooks paying tribute. Seeger's craft has spanned several generations. I, myself, can hear something on the radio that Seeger recorded, and go back to that time in my life. He's a generational touchstone. Who can't remember where they where when they first heard "Night Moves?" How sweet is that?

So, whether it's a retired judge, or an old rock-and-roller, giving money for education or performing for artistic enrichment, we "geezers" are really needed by the succeeding generations, whether they admit it or not. And as we move through the holidays into the New Year, we have more gifts to give to the world. It's our job to make sure we're useful until we're gone, and that our influences will be felt even after. That, everyone, is what generativity is all about.

Des'ree - You Gotta Be |Lyrics|

2011-12-20T06:25:00.000-08:00

I have decided to defer the third installment of my bullying posts. Instead, in the contemplative spirit of the holidays, I have decided to offer this as one of my favorite motivational songs. Enjoy...and keep a lookout for my thoughts on preparing for the new year!
Happy Holidays!
Dr. Valarie Cascadden

Some Stuff I Resolved in 2011

2011-12-20T06:16:00.001-08:00

1. Life is too short to be irritated. That's why I carefully plan my trips to the store, and to recreational venues. I've never been terribly patient by nature. So, when faced with long lines, or a shortage of parking, I now ask myself, "Is it really worth it?" Another reason I'm forsaking Costco for Smart and Final.

2. Taste is everything, especially when one is making the most of a caloric count. As pricy as it is, almond butter beats the hell out of plain old peanut butter. A little spread on multi-grain toast is a great quick breakfast.

3. The only pink in my life, from now on, will be the occasional Pepto-Bismol. The color RED will take a more prominent place in my wardrobe.

4. Out with any flouncy, fluffy, or "aging hippie" stuff hiding in the recesses of my closet. When I think of "professors" and "scholars," what comes to mind are the graying, avuncular men with their pipes and tweed jackets with elbow patches. To craft the feminine counterpart to this look, I'm thinking I'd like to find houndstooth jackets, soft charcoal-gray knit dresses, and sleek A-line skirts. And comfortable shoes one can actually walk in, like Hush Puppies. Damn the sadist who declared stiletto heels beautiful!

5. I want to be able to grow my various career ventures, and be a good, loving caregiver for my mother, who'll be 87 soon.

6. The New Yorker Magazine is well worth the time spent reading it.

7. After years of not paying attention to the often-used phrase, "friends and family," it's beginning to make sense as to why the two are linked.

8. Hard work can keep one young. So can thoughtful fun. And for that matter, moments of spontaneous silliness.

9. With the passing this year of those like Andy Rooney, James Hillman, and Elizabeth Taylor, my generation has its work cut out to find comparable legends for its legacy. Any nominations?

10. We are fast becoming the older generation. We made a lot of noise and headlines in our youth; let's go out in the same spectacular way. If, as I read the other day, "80 is the new 65," what are we going to do about it?

Second in a Series: Workplace Bullying Involving Older Workers

2011-12-14T06:50:00.001-08:00

NOTE: none of the following is to be taken as legal or human resource advice. Please, if needed, seek your own legal counsel.

Bullying--the word seems so out of place in the world of the professional, "mature" worker. It conjures up the images of the poor, hapless kid getting ganged up on in the halls or on the playground. That's one of the reasons why grown-ups are usually so reluctant to identify themselves as being bullied.

In the previous post, I mentioned someone who recently told me about her "Sunday dread," and also some of the common physical symptoms of stress related to me.

Workplace bullying can be isolating. Because of the embarrassment associated with being picked on, many people are reluctant to say anything--to anyone. There has been a movement in recent decades to encourage "assertive communication." This is all well and good, but there are certain persons (for cultural reasons or hard-wired family messages) for whom assertion would be a difficult reach. Even in 2011, we still have a significant number of females who are raised to "be nice," even at their own expense. Sometimes, even loyal friends can tire of lending a supportive ear to the bullied individual, and may begin to subtly avoid the topic--or the individual. If this person wants to spare his or her family any of the ordeal, he or she may just shut down. Depression, alcohol/substance abuse, other addictive behaviors, or explosive anger at seemingly unrelated people might provide very dysfunctional releases.

Shame is often associated with the trauma of any ongoing abuse. Aside from feeling ridiculous about saying he or she has been picked on, a worker may somehow feel that if he or she were "stronger," or "a better worker," the bullying would not happen or continue for so long. This creates a situation of emotional power for the abuser, who can change the "rules" of the "game" at anytime, so the worker never feels validated or safe. This can further feed the abuse, because the perpetrator might say, "Well, if you felt it was so bad, why didn't you say something?" The worker's feelings of credibility, along with his or her courage, erodes, because the abuser counts on nothing ever being said.

With the current job market, a worker may experience the desperation of feeling trapped with a hostile boss or coworker. These feelings become heightened in those who are older, or planning for a semi-comfortable retirement. It's not unheard of, even now, for a worker to simply surrender and quit out of despair. Scarier still is the thought that someone's hopelessness might turn to rage, and he or she might suddenly return to the workplace as one of those dangerous "disgruntled workers" one hears about in the media.

As the existence of workplace bullying gains credence, there are measures any worker can take to protect himself or herself:

1. Keep every piece of work-related documents from the time of hire, no matter how insignificant or irrelevant it may seem. Make sure the file is kept where it cannot be found by anyone else, and contents would somehow mysteriously "vanish." This paper trail can include one's hiring agreement, formal job description, performance evaluations, letters of praise from customers, copies of emails, etc.

2. Be comfortably cordial, but thoughtful about self-disclosure. One never knows how an innocent conversation about one's personal life can provide fodder for gossip or more malicious purposes. Don't ever feel pressured to offer up any more information than what feels safe, even at the risk of appearing aloof. ALSO, think carefully about what personal belongings are left in the side desk drawer, especially if there is no lock to the desk.

3. And NOWADAYS...make sure that your Facebook "friends" setting reflects who your friends really are. Be mindful of what you post, no matter how innocent it may seem. Someone who has less than honorable motives can mine the social media network for things to use as leverage.

3. Carefully observe the workplace culture. Who is "friends" with whom, and who are the obvious outsiders or scapegoats? What is the tone of the gossip? What is the overall style of management-worker relationships? Do shifts in allegiances or divisions occur, and under what circumstances? Are you ever asked to take sides--by whom and against whom?

If you find yourself being targeted:

1. Keep aware and listen to your intuition. Bullying can be as grossly obvious as being tailgated by a Mac truck, or it can be subtle and insidious.

2. Take care of yourself -- now is all the more reason to cultivate interests and friendships outside of work, to exercise, find a hobby or cause...all to keep your senses of self-esteem and mastery buoyed up. Counseling, such as EAP (Employee Assistance Program) services, can help validate and normalize your feelings during these times.

3. Keep your cool, and think long and hard before returning the enemy fire. In the meantime, document, document, document any and all inappropriate words and actions. Then, if you feel you'll get supported, go to your H.R., union representative, or management, but also be aware of the limitations and possible pitfalls of this are. Do research on your rights in the workplace, and get expert legal advice if you need it.

4. Take your time deciding if you can "stick it out," change jobs, or strike out into a venture like your own business. These are very serious crossroads to face, and ultimately, only you can decide what is right for you to do.

Next post: A personal account of bullying.

Workplace Bullying Involving Older Workers: The first in a series

2011-12-06T05:27:00.001-08:00

NOTE: none of the following is to be taken as legal or human resource advice. Please, if needed, seek your own legal counsel.

As we boomers remain on the job--whether by choice or necessity--we can be at risk for unprofessional, unsafe behavior from our peers and supervisors.

In the past year, I have had a significant number of clients disclose that they have been targeted with workplace hostility. They report sleep disturbances, including bad dreams about work; abdominal pains, even when they see their workplace building on a day off; second-guessing their abilities, even when they were highly trained. These people can't "just forget about it and relax" on weekends, and one individual said she gets "Sunday dread," because she knows Monday is just 24 hours away.

Workplace bullying, sadly, is not strictly illegal by itself, per my internet research. It can include a sneaky undercurrent of looks, covert gestures, exclusion from group communication, instances of realizing that one's desk and work files are being rifled through, and one's efforts to serve the public are contradicted in front of the customer. Because so much is done out of the sight or hearing of management, or behind closed doors, the bullying goes largely unnoticed. There have also, in recent decades, some efforts made in corporations to conduct "sensitivity training" or "communication sessions" to help the rank-and-file workers "get along." With supervisors or Human Resource reps in the room, the participants are likely to sit, nod mechanically, (maybe) smile at each other across the table--and then it's back to status-quo in the departments.

Older workers and those who feel socially and economically marginalized are particularly vulnerable. If the bully is confronted, often he/she will deny it, say something along the lines of "Too f***ing bad, if you don't like it, just quit." And so, too often, our worker sucks up their feelings--because, as some of my clients say, "At my age, who will hire me? And I need this job!" They feel trapped, like anyone in an abusive situation. Furthermore, the longer and more pervasive the abuse, the worker's productivity and accuracy can suffer, providing more ammunition for the bully.

Sometimes, a worker will go to H.R. or their supervisors, and the first thing he or she will hear is, "Well, didn't you try to work it out with them? You know, we're in the middle of end-of-month documentation. Can't this wait?" So, a glimmer of hope of support goes out...especially when the bully finds out that the worker has tried to seek help. The abuser may feign innocence to the rest of the department, and then the worker experiences retribution.

In a day when we are trying to pull together as a nation, and revitalize the economy, the childish viciousness of workplace bullying is detrimental not only to the individual worker, but productivity of companies and the country. Let's work this out!

Next post: The personal costs of workplace bullying, and some survival strategies.

Resources: www.workplacebullying.org, U.S. Department of Labor, "The Bully at Work," by Gary Namie, PhD & Ruth Namie, PhD

Laughing at the passage of time

2011-12-04T00:07:00.001-08:00

I can't stop it, or even slow it down. So, I may as well join the chorus of people who poke fun at their own aging process.

Today, at 7:59 AM, I'll officially turn 57. And by my own screwy, defiant reckoning, I'm still lingering in middle age, since I hold fast to the cherished goal of long surpassing the century mark. I'm just now getting started on yet another life stage.

I hit my peak physically at about 22, when I consistently weighed 100 lbs., even after a multi-course holiday meal, and "dieting" meant skipping dessert for a day or two to squeeze back into my slim skirts. Looking back, though, I was a "lightweight" emotionally and intellectually. I was still easily swayed by trends and others' opinions, and filled with anxiety regarding "where I should be in my life." I'd completed a patchwork of college courses, but the seesaw of indecision had been an obstacle to my degree. There was that broken engagement, and a pesky, whining ex-boy/fiance who kept calling, wanting to be friends! (To this day, I've never quite gotten that B.S. concept, except that it's a way of avoiding being brave and moving on to take responsibility for getting one's needs met.) And there was my "Silverlake life," when I resided in a hidden back-house apartment in that funky little L.A. enclave that still holds a tiny bit of the old 1970's charm. The insurance industry was centered on Wilshire Boulevard at that time, and I earned my living as an insurance support staffer--skipping merrily from job to job as my fancy struck.

In retrospect, all this dancing around was productive. I was, at my own pace, observing life and trying it on for size. Some of my adventures were totally benign, some outrageous (material for future posts--maybe!). My family and friends were often bewildered at my impulsiveness, but things were brewing in my subconscious.

At 26, I met my now-late husband. When I was 28, we had our son. At 33, I was widowed. Talk about life taking a hard turn...

I returned to my childhood home, and my mother and I set about raising my son, and developing a mutually-beneficial family arrangement. I've written about this life in prior posts. Men I dated proved skittish about taking on a "woman with a kid," so I became primarily involved with finishing school and working. The Bachelor's finally was completed when I was 40; the Master's, 42, and the doctorate, 52. My work is my therapeutic practice, adjunct professorship, my writing, and caring for Mom. Even today, I thought of a couple of more creative projects to begin soon.

And someone dear holds my affection.

As many of my high school and college friends are winding down their careers, I do lovingly wish them well. I made up my mind in my 20's, however, that I was just going to purposefully keep going. There has been so much heart and mind invested in my callings, I wouldn't give them up even if I struck it rich tomorrow. My post-40 discoveries about the world and myself keep unfolding, making up an ever-increasingly complex tapestry of psyche, an unbroken cycle of sharing and receiving...

So, this birthday greeting is from me to the world, with gratitude. Perhaps I'll treat myself to breakfast before church, waving my AARP card and coyly dropping the fact that it's my birthday. Or if I wait till 4 PM, I could get the 20% senior discount at Denny's...and coyly dropping the fact that it's my birthday...oh, I could have SO MUCH fun.

Where's Betty White when I need her? Her company would be a hoot, especially today!

"For now we see through a glass, darkly," of our future, or not?

2011-12-01T05:56:00.001-08:00

I've mentioned in various contexts that I'm Mom's primary caretaker, and that I've assumed this role willingly and lovingly...

Even in moments when my assistance stirs up an array of unexpected, and even scary, thoughts and feelings.

I kept up the denial for many years, knowing rationally that Mom "might someday need my help." Grownups are not really different from children in this regard. We keep the image of Mom or Dad as a 45-year-old in the forefront of our consciousness, clinging to it as a fantasy even as various capabilities fall away. With some seniors, the decline is rapid; others experience gradual aging as that proverbial "thief in the night."

My mom has been bravely holding out against frailty. What seems (wistfully, to me, at least) a scant twenty years ago, Mom was newly-retired from nursing, enthusiastically doing volunteer work, making gift batches of homemade fudge for everyone from my son's teachers to the trash collectors, baking holiday pies from scratch, and driving her little putt-putt 1966 VW Bug all over town.

Today, Mom confines her life mostly to her bedroom, and her jailer is her fear of falling. A fall which, by the way, has not yet happened.

She reluctantly gets out into the living room for meals, TV, and conversation with me at my insistence. Cautiously wheeling her walker, Mom pauses halfway down the hall, saying, "Oh, I can't do this. This is a mistake." And I'll--taking a breath and holding back any impatience--"Yes, Mom, you can. I'm here. I'll never let anything happen to you." And then it hits me--for the zillionth time--that we've come full circle, and I'm now the protector, as she was for me at the beginning of my life.

I'm not alone, though. My son, all 6'5" of him, puts aside his usual smart-alerk self when he's over here, and actually quells Mom's fears, if only briefly. Getting Mom out of the house and over to Thanksgiving dinner at a relative's home took our combined efforts, but it made my holiday complete to have her there. Eric and his father-in-law picked Mom up, wheelchair and all, transferring her safely and easily from the walkway onto the porch.

Christmas, another important family-gathering time, is something I need to start strategizing now.

Mom's impacted mobility has reminded me how tightly our senses of self are bound up in not just who we think we are, but what we think we can do. Take that away from any one, especially seniors, and the decline can begin. Not a day goes by that Mom doesn't say something like, "I don't know what I'd do without you," or "I never thought you'd be taking care of me." The fact that Mom still has most of her cognitive faculties makes her gratitude all the more bittersweet.

Recently, I posted a link on my Facebook page to the TED talk of Aubrey deGrey, about "Defeating Aging." I viewed it again the other day, and have decided I dislike his proclamation that "Aging is ghastly." Right now, with our current knowledge and technology, aging is inevitable but not horrible. I prefer those who go beyond deGrey's disgust, and focus on the practical "hows" of enhancing quality of life while it exists. Thank goodness we live in an era of AARP, and a plethora or others organizations.

Knowing that our elders have a limited time with us can be scary, and that's why I think the image of "old people" can be depressing or revolting to us boomers. These reactions are merely masks for fear that this can be our future, fear that can diminish our ability to treasure our relationships with our elders in the here-and-now. And it's good to remember that our own children are watching, taking cues as to how to react when our own time winds down. It's easy for my generation, in times of angst, to recall that Who song, "My Generation," and the line, "I hope I die before I get old...". Not me! I like to think, as I sometimes look "through the glass darkly," that total dependence is only ONE scenario that could play out for me. Much of my future, with the help of knowledge and lifestyle, might still be within my control.

And so, we solider on, down this road, Mom and I. With the help of family, friends, and resources through her Medicare and supplement, life is mostly in this good-enough state. I intend to do whatever I can to keep it that way.
That quote from I Corinthians 13, from which I borrowed for this post's title, also speaks of (depending upon the version) love and charity, among other attributes, which are great coping skills for a caregiver's task.

The Girl Who Silenced The World For 5 Minutes

2011-11-29T06:47:00.000-08:00

http://front.moveon.org/the-girl-who-silenced-the-world-for-5-minutes

While doing my usual morning Facebook check-in, I came upon this, posted by a high school friend. I was transfixed.

Before I saw it, I had thought of doing a post with some light, flippant humor, but this young girl's words have taken center stage.

Her message is all the more reason our generation needs to stick around and continue to mobilize. When I have heard the despair of a youngster, it breaks my heart. So what ARE we going to do for our grandchildren? Even as we worry that the future generations won't have a standard of living comparable to ours, what good is it if they won't have a habitable planet? It's given me something to ponder today.

Nostalgia of hearth & home -- when homemakers were honored

2011-11-26T10:41:00.001-08:00

The urge to blog these thoughts came unexpectedly, while I was rummaging around in the desk for a big envelope for Mom's use. Then, I came upon come long-forgotten treasures, reminiscent of female relatives long passed away, and of an era of our country when housewives didn't sheepishly say, "I don't work, I'm just a housewife," or use the current parlance, "stay-at-home-mom." Those of my mother's generation who were lucky enough to go to college, did so to become nurses, teachers...or to major in Home Economics, hopefully to marry and run a home and family.

Despite my own inclinations, I have an admiration for these ladies. They were truly managers of the homes we older folks grew up, felt safe and secure, and dreamed our dreams of the future...

There's the image above to start, but then I've created an online Facebook album of all the images, because I didn't feel right about omitting any of them. They are all fascinating.

I'll 'fess up to being -- still -- a decidedly un-domestic female! Growing up, I did Saturday chores while gritting my teeth, resented having to take cooking and sewing classes in junior high simply because I was a girl (I wanted to take drafting, instead), and was fortunate to find boyfriends and a husband who actually liked to do the cooking! How lucky was that? Do I perhaps give off a "cuisine-challenged" vibe?

I use the microwave as much as possible, and can't remember when I used my iron. On a rare occasion, I'll say to my family, "I think I'll bake/cook...", and their looks of consternation, bordering on panic, immediately register. When I start rattling around in the kitchen cupboards, everyone stays away. Sometimes, I think they're afraid I'll blow things up in there!

Many of you know that I'm a sucker for the historic, the vintage, the nostalgic. Also, in these "challenging times," (really, when has that not been the case?) there is a collective nesting instinct manifesting itself, a yearning for anything of the "home" archetype. And hard-core Sixties-child that I am, I'm right there, too!

Also, here's a few of Grandma's cosmetics, which I found in a zip-lock bag, where I found the cookbook. One of the silver tubes actually has lipstick that has survived almost a century.

Black Friday vs. The 3/50 Project -- holiday shopping reconsidered!

2011-11-25T05:22:00.001-08:00

Yes, the day after Thanksgiving, I'm going to work for a while. The call for my services doesn't stop for holidays.

It's only 5:23 AM, though, and I'm already plotting a mental route to circumvent the cattle-herd already at the malls and on major streets. I go online and am assaulted with ads in bold colors, ALL CAPS TYPE FACES, and repetitive, urgent messages about Black Friday, and save, save, save... My email inbox doesn't look any better. Ugh...

And there's already news about a pepper-spraying melee at a Walmart in Porter Ranch? What's the matter with everyone?

I wonder if all this media/sensory overload might not generate a backlash, if it hasn't already. I'm surprised there hasn't been some kind of "Occupy Black Friday" arising. But our economy needs bolstering, and this is a short-term fix. The stores "need" our business RIGHT NOW, and we "need" those marked-down gifts RIGHT NOW. It's a symbiotic relationship of the most greedy, desperate kind.

Okay, a good deal on that TV or iPad2 aside, may I also offer an alternative? Check out this site: www.http://www.the350project.net. Go ahead...right now, BEFORE you gird on your armor and go forth into the consumerism warfare.

Me, I've been DONE with my shopping for months. As crazy as my schedule can get, I find that using some organization and mindfulness can result in more thoughtful gift-giving that's relaxed and truly from the heart. It's been my practice to be on the lookout for that special thing that I know a certain someone will truly appreciate; even if I see it in March or April, I'll get it and put it aside.

Here in Southern California, there's all kinds of charming little stores offering unique merchandise. For those who are near Montrose, there's a quiet little street of wonderful independent shops. Another area is Magnolia Park, more commonly known as West Magnolia Blvd., stretching down from Burbank into Sherman Oaks. Pomona has its antique and thrift store shopping district, which is where I spent a relaxing day this summer with an old friend...and got many of my Christmas gifts. I'm certain, all across the U.S.A., many of you can identify pockets of businesses that are slow, leisurely, and actually friendly...owned by families or older people who run their businesses with heart. Go, please, and explore them...for their businesses, and for yourself.

Every year, as a culture, we pay fleeting lip-service to the notion that "maybe we should not get so wrapped up in craziness." Maybe, right now, is the time to start...with patronizing the small businesses. We might just even enjoy the holidays.

Shakespeare & Charlie Rose

2011-11-16T07:47:00.001-08:00

A must-see Charlie Rose segment, November 10, 2011:

http://charlierose.com/view/content/11985

TV's increasing din...sitcoms, reality shows, dramas, and round-the-clock news and commentary...enlightenment, entertainment, or escape? How might distant history evaluate our era, using this medium as a measure? What might the Bard have to say about our viewing choices and habits?

Thank goodness for the vast array from which to choose when I press "Guide" on my remote. Busy person that I am, I have chosen just a few to record and watch when I finally land on my sofa: "Person of Interest," "American Horror Story" (a gruesome guilty pleasure), "So Cal Connected," "Holmes Inspection" (for my practical nature), and "Sister Wives."

And then, there's Charlie! Whatever did I do before I was turned on to his show, minimalist in set-up, but so rich in content? "Did my heart love till now?" Sorry, Will, for the pilfer.

I will do whatever I must to make time for this new "Why Shakespeare?" series, which began last Thursday. There was an impressive line-up of scholars and artists on the first segment, most prominently Oskar Eustis, artistic director of The Public Theatre (http://americantheatrewing.org/biography/detail/oskar_eustis).

As a break from the cacophony of 2011 media culture, it would do us good to look through the lens of this series. Not only will we be examining the unequaled genius of Shakespeare (of whose writings many in my field mine for quotes and insights), but we may come away with some fresh ideas about ourselves.

Thoughts

2011-11-15T22:39:00.001-08:00

Hi, this is Dr. Valarie Cascadden again, writing about our thoughts.

Norman Vincent Peale became famous for his book “The Power of Positive Thinking.” Dale Carnegie wrote, “How to Win Friends and Influence People.” Leo Tolstoy stated, “Men suffer from thinking more than from anything else.” And in the Bible, it is written, “As a man thinketh, so is he” (Proverbs 23:7). And, ladies, we’re not excluded from this, either. Throughout history, we’ve been reminded about the power of thoughts, negative and positive.

Almost everyday we say it, or hear someone else say it – “I can’t stop thinking about this…” or, “It’s been on my mind that such-and-such…”. Consider how many times you—as they say, get “lost in thought. We sometimes daydream on the way to work, and miss the street or freeway turnoff, even if we’ve been going that way for years. “Getting preoccupied” can be irritating when it interferes with our attention to a conversation, but it can also lead to fantastic creative breakthroughs (the “lightbulb” over our heads can actually have an energizing affect)– and we wonder why that something didn’t occur to us earlier. Our minds have incredible power, and we’ve often heard anecdotes that we only use about 10% of our brain capacity.

PET or CT scans can show how automatic our thoughts are when we hear or see something. A patient is shown a series of images, and the brain’s circuitry lights up like a Christmas tree. Each of those flashes is from a thought.

When someone disappoints us or says something stupid or hurtful, we have a thought. When we are scared or worried, we have a thought. When we’re insecure, jealous, lonely, whatever, we have a thought. It’s so automatic that we’re usually unaware of it, and it immediately triggers an emotion, oftentimes in the form of anger, fear, sadness, or worry.

People come into my office and want to know how they can get over something and move on. Usually they start with saying, “I can’t help the way I feel.” That’s when I educate them about how those nasty feelings first come from their thoughts, which are reactions to what’s happened to them.

We’re not born thinking any certain way. We usually learn how we think or respond by watching our parents or other adults, and over time we adopt thought patterns whether or not we’re aware of it. Then we usually act in a way that reflects the way we feel, even if the way we feel is based on faulty information. If we then act upon perceptions that are not necessarily correct, it may cause difficulty in our relationships with others.

Take, for example, a midlife or senior person who is convinced that he or she will never find love again after a divorce or death of a partner. There are a proliferation of “older” dating sites online, but our lonely-heart remains unconvinced. “I’m too old for love or sex.” A few dates don’t pan out, and the person retreats, giving real meaning to the old expression, “self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Thoughts are habits, and as with all habits, they can be changed through re-learning. One of the best and most effective methods of therapy is what we call Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy, or CBT. It’s simple, practical, and interactive, and it works well with most age groups and issues. I've alluded to this in other posts, but I personally think that much of the economic and political malaise is fueled by fear that we can again never have "an American dream." As if there was ever any such one-size-fits-all thing in the first place!

When I do CBT, I first take a history and do an assessment. As the client and I identify thought patterns that contribute to the problem, we go to work to uncover evidence that challenges these problematic thoughts, and help the client develop clearer, more rational thinking. As these new thoughts strengthen through the client's practice, so often do calmer emotions.

For further information, or to schedule an appointment, please call me at 818-729-9190 or visit my website at www.midlifecrisesrecovery.com.

My Personal List of Recommended Gift Books for the Holiday Season

2011-11-13T21:24:00.001-08:00

Nothing beats a good read, especially when it's in the form of a gift. What makes the book even more special is that signed and dated message that a thoughtful giver will inscribe on the inside of the front cover.

I love to give, as well as receive, a book that's well-matched with the potential reader. Here are some of my personal picks. All of these have been on the bookstore shelves for quite awhile, but they've stood the test of time:

Disquiet Please! More Humor Writing from the New Yorker, edited by David Remnick and Henry Finder. Any reader of the magazine will adore the wide array of urbane wit from the likes of E.B. White, Steve Martin, and Peter De Vries.

On the Couch: A Book of Psychoanalysis Cartoons. Ninety-four single-frame lampoons of the psychiatric profession that have been featured in the New Yorker, to be appreciated by both those who have, or have not, undergone analysis.

Phillips' Book of Great Thoughts & Funny Sayings, by Bob Phillips, PhD. Quotable wisdom from history's most-quoted people.

The Little Book of Mathematical Principals, Theories, & Things, by Robert Solomon. Sssshhh...I've giving a copy of this to a certain dear nerd in my life.

The Soloist. I met the author, L.A. Times columnist Steve Lopez, and had him autograph my copy at a Barnes & Noble during a NAMI walk several years ago. A must-read of the extraordinary life of Nathaniel Ayers. Sadly, I felt the movie didn't do Mr. Lopez' narrative justice.

For inspiration about how to grow old(er) and really wiser, here are three: Gordon Livingston, M.D.'s And Never Stop Dancing: Thirty More Things You Need to Now, which is preceded by Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart. Also, Helen M. Luke's Old Age: Journey into Simplicity.

And, finally, for those who like to wade in the pool of Jungian thought, anything by Robert A. Johnson is both thought-provoking and very readable. My favorites: He: Understanding Masculine Psychology; She: Understanding Feminine Psychology; We: Understanding the Psychology of Romantic Love, and Owning Your Own Shadow: Understanding the Dark Side of the Psyche. When I was flipping through the latter book, I found one of my underlined passages on Page 47 (I still mark up my books, so many years after college graduation!): "Parrots learn profanity more easily than common phrases since we utter our curses with so much vigor. The parrot doesn't know the meaning of these words, but he hears the energy invested in them."

So, that's it for this evening...we're still not yet at Thanksgiving, so there's time for me to pull more books off my shelves.

The Brass Box, Google Satellite & Memories

2011-11-10T10:12:00.001-08:00

I'm going to now do what little sisters have done since time began -- blame my big brother! He started it!

This emotional exercise began for me a couple of weeks ago when Kevin, 10 years my senior, sent my mom and I some print outs of some Google Satellite images of different locations. The house above is 2967 Elmwood Avenue, Kenmore, New York, where my family lived when I was born, until we moved here to California in 1963--November 22nd to be exact, the day JFK was assassinated. There were some more shots which I will share with the appropriate friends, and another of my mother's childhood home on Mulberry Street. Above it are two shots of my closest playmates on Hampton Parkway, around the corner from the Elmwood house. Some of these folks are now Facebook friends, and I hope we chat about any memories they want to share.

When I pored over the photos Kevin sent, I was surprised at how overcome with emotion I was, and still am. So...in my spare time, I've been rummaging through what is known in my family as "The Brass Box." It's on small casters, with dimensions of only 12" x 15" x 19". But it's a veritable vault, a time capsule. If the house burned down, I'd be challenged to gather my mom, the cat, AND The Brass Box. To let anything happen to it is unthinkable.

While looking through time-worn envelopes, some printed with "LEE'S DRUGS. BUFFALO'S HEADQUARTERS FOR CAMERAS, FILM, FLASHBULBS AND PHOTO SUPPLIES," I thought of that scene in the movie Beaches, where Barbara Hershey's character was frantically looking for a picture of her mother's hands. Even though I don't quite feel that level of urgency, I can relate to the preciousness of family photos more as I get older. I also think of times I've been to the Rose Bowl swap meet, and have seen tables with boxes of family photos...orphaned images, with no names, dates, or people who still find them valuable. So very sad. I'm determined, while Mom's still living, to go through our photos with her, and try to catalog and date those pictures that are not thus labeled. If I can help it, our family history is not going to end up in swap meet boxes!

For more views of my family history, take a look at my Facebook album, "From the Brass Box."

Sleepless in Burbank & More Good Reads

2011-11-06T07:03:00.000-08:00

Before I offer up some more reading recommendations, I wanted to check to see how we're all doing with the early morning time change.

Until about 10 years ago, it never bothered me. I set my clock forward or back, depending on the time of year...and, done!

Somehow, though, with midlife, the hour differential really throws me for awhile. Last evening, after dinner and some down-time, I set three tabletop clocks back, and fell asleep earlier than usual....so deep, in fact, that I woke at 2 AM (standard time), and have been awake since then.

At first, I didn't move. The radio is always on at night, to KUSC, as a sort of classical music "nightlight" for my ears (I can't sleep in total silence!). I thought the soothing melodies wouldn't have a sedative effect, but that didn't happen. So, rather than lie gazing at the ceiling with mounting irritation, I got up and made the best of the situation. It's now 5:55 as I write this, and in almost three hours I have: watered the front lawn (I use manual rather than automatic controls), checked my email, chatted with a few equally-insomniac friends via Facebook, caught up on some work-related paperwork, washed a few dishes in the sink, fed Tiggy, cleaned the litterbox, downed most of a pot of coffee, and stocked up my briefcase for today's work.

Based on my past few years' experience, it will take a day or so to settle back down to my usual sleep pattern.

Moving on to my latest list of useful material for midlife, I noticed that this list appears to be female-centric. I'd like to point out, however, that to be a more conscious individual, it is wise to acknowledge and nurture the "opposite" of one's gender. A man can honor his anima (inner feminine aspect) without compromising his masculine self-concept. Likewise, a woman can be aware of her animus, (inner masculine aspect). These ideas are just a small component of Jungian theory, which is too complex to fully discuss here.

Earlier today, I posted a reference to some of David Whyte's work on my FB page. Equally, I recommend the audiobook by Marion Woodman, The Crown of Age: The Rewards of Conscious Aging. She discusses the archetype of the crone, to which I alluded in my previous post, and points out that the wisdom inherent in crone-hood is not solely for females; males can see themselves as possessing knowledge of the years. So much for dismissing our elders as "old fools!"

Amazon and other booksellers have a list of Woodman's many and varied works. Two that I pulled off my shelf are: Coming Home to Myself: Reflections for Nurturing a Woman's Body & Soul (coauthored with Jill Mellick), and The Owl Was a Baker's Daughter: Obesity, Anorexia Nervosa and the Repressed Feminine. The latter book is very timely, given our individual and collective fixation on weight and body image.

Another by Jean Shinoda Bolen is Crossing to Avalon: A Woman's Midlife Pilgrimage. Indeed, midlife--for men and women--can be seen as a crisis, which is paralyzing, or as a journey, which can be undertaken literally OR psychically, and be a step toward continued development.

Although it might not be to everyone's reading taste, I also suggest going to CroneMagazine.com and look at the magazine Crone: Women Coming of Age. Issue #4 had an interesting perspective of financial crisis in "Thank you, Bernie Madoff: Catastrophe as Compost for New Beginnings."

Have a good Sunday, all, as we venture into November....

C.G. Jung Institute of Los Angeles

2011-11-03T07:29:00.000-07:00

Long before I attended Pacifica Graduate Institute, I happened upon this wonderful, often-overlooked resource of thought, inspiration, and fellowship. Unfortunately, for due to some technical orneriness, my computer won't "let" me post the link, so I'm entering the address: www.junginla.org.

On busy Pico Boulevard in West Los Angeles, you can turn on Kerwood, and just make sure you park being mindful of the resident-only permit-parking signs. The courtyard is tiny, but with overhanging trees and a soothing small fountain. Their library/bookstore is a treasure-trove for people who enjoy looking at the psyche from the perspective of the individual or collective soul. Of course, you can find all things Jungian, but also the works of Joseph Campbell, Marie-Louse von Franz, Marion Woodman, and the recently-departed James Hillman. There are also trinkets and jewelry pieces, if you're looking for one-of-a-kind gifts for birthdays and holidays.

I often attend public programs there, for either clinical continuing education hours, or I take my gentleman friend with me when there's a presentation of a less esoteric nature. When I was culling through some papers last night, I rediscovered my brochure for the Fall 2011 Public Programs (also available on the Institute website). The topic for December 9 caught my eye, "A Conversation on Aging and Death." I think I'll go. After all, these are processes that concern all of us--unless there's someone out there who has concocted a magic elixir of eternal youth. As much as I'm determined to bulldoze my way through past 100, the idea that there will someday be an end for me is both comforting and motivating. It reminds me to live now, and live fully. I wonder how much that sentiment will be addressed at this December 9th lecture.

Recommended "Boomer Reading" for the Season

2011-10-30T08:53:00.001-07:00

First, a brief announcement: I'm down another 2 lbs. I'm pleased.

Now to the topic, fall reading. Much is said about "summer reading lists," but I would also propose that the cooling of the weather, shortening of the daytime hours (be sure to set your clocks back one hour on Saturday night, November 5th!), and the end-of-the-year contemplation in which many of us engage may cause us to consider a good book or two.

Here are some of my favorites:

Monday Morning Memoirs: Women in the Second Half of Life. In this anthology, I would like to call particular attention to the essays of my former Burbank High School classmate, Hillary Horan: "The Swollen Penis," "Miss Rose Kathleen," and "The Trust Thing." This is edited by Maureen Murdock, formerly of Pacifica Graduate Institute (where I did my own doctoral studies), and also now at the UCLA Extension Writers' Program.

Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life: How to Finally, Really Grow Up, by James Hollis, PhD, a Jungian analyst from Houston, Texas, one of my favorite authors, and one hell of a terrific speaker! I went to a seminar he held last year in West Los Angeles, and was honored to get his inscription on my copy of the book, and have a few precious moments of face-time. Should I admit here and now that I was just a tad star-struck? Okay, I will!

Dr. Hollis has also written Why Good People Do Bad Things: Understanding Our Darker Selves. Very thought-provoking, and oddly comforting in its way to help us 'fess up to our "failings."

A third from Dr. Hollis is a slightly more academic, but still quite clear is The Middle Passage: From Misery to Meaning in Midlife.

Gail Sheehy, author of Passages, offers up a candid look at one of our generation's pressing issues in Passages in Caregiving: Turning Chaos into Confidence. I'd like to see this book more actively promoted in caregivers' support groups held across the country.

From Jean Shinoda Bolen, M.D., another Jungian analyst: Goddesses in Older Women: Archetypes in Women Over Fifty. Lest any male reader of mine feel slighted, may I mention that Dr. Bolen also has written Gods in Everyman. All of Dr. Bolen's works are practical, readable, and encouraging. She skillfully draws upon a large pool of ancient myth and legend to show the ways we can conceive of ourselves--and become--the formidable selves we were meant to be.

A final one for this post: Dorothy Morrison's In Praise of the Crone: A Celebration of Feminine Maturity. Another practical guide to feeling better at "this age." Crones ARE NOT ugly old hags, as portrayed in cartoons. Rather, they are wise women; I like to think of them as being the counterparts of the Merlin figure in the Arthurian legend.

Okay, that's more than enough for this post. There is more, especially on the subject of crone-hood, which I will share in the near future.

Best regards as we approach All Hallows Eve.

The Nostalgia Monster has Struck Again!

2011-10-29T07:43:00.000-07:00

Quick, someone stop me!!

It started when I heard Crosby, Stills & Nash's "Our House" on the radio the other day.

I've gotten this urge to add another writing project to my to-do list...about the houses we grew up in, and our memories of them.
I used to sit and pore over the cookbook above as a kid, while sitting on the high kitchen stool, watching Mom do her Whirling Dervish routine. Whenever I see the cookbooks in the drawer (I've posted a few of their images on FB), I can smell the flour, vanilla extract, sugar, eggs, etc., as Mom became a blur....whizzing, responding to the demands of oven, pressure cooker, timer, all with seemingly effortless expertise.

In 1972, I graduated from Burbank High School, Given my age, personal dreams, and the tone of the times, I couldn't run away from this house and Burbank fast enough.

Now I've come full circle. Following the death of my husband, I moved back to the family home (the story of which will be in the above-mentioned writing), to keep Mom company (she, too, was alone), and give Eric a stable, safe place in which to grow up. I've never regretted this decision.

And I've decided it's okay, and maybe a little cool to have fond memories of the stuff that makes up my visual history. Even Eric--rock-star-lookalike as a teenager--has become protective of these household items.

No, I probably won't use the cookbooks much, if at all. But they're definitely staying in the family.

For more, check out my FB Page, "From My Turbo-Charged Rocking Chair."

First follow-up, and my new exercise equipment!

2011-10-23T06:37:00.000-07:00

First, the news. I'm down one pound from last week. YES, I'm totally okay with this. Every reputable weight-loss program, including Weight Watchers, promotes slow but steady weight loss. Dramatic drops are not only unhealthy, but they are usually not maintained over time, especially for "women my age." So, again, one pound DOWN, which means I'm going in the right direction.

When my son and daughter-in-law made their recent move, they had to leave behind this John Deere lawnmower and an edger. I eagerly took possession of both, and have assumed the role of gardener. Someone else had been performing that function, but it's time to save some money, use the muscles the good Lord gave me, and expend even more calories. My mother, who will be protective of me till the very end, is not happy about this, saying that "there's more to this than you think."

What? Am I not capable of doing myself what we've been paying good money to have done for us? Oh, Mom, "of little faith...". And anyway, I've always found gardening--working up a sweat and becoming marvelously dirty--to be the best therapy for me on my day off. Also, I love the smell of freshly-cut grass--aromatherapy for free. I CAN do the reseeding, fertilizing, cutting and edging, along with the weeding and pruning of the roses bushes I've always done. Ever since I re-landscaped the backyard in 2004, inspired by Bob Villa's "Gardening by the Yard" and also HGTV, my yard is MY DOMAIN. Time to reclaim it! I can be extreme in my efforts; I'd LOVE to wear a teeshirt that proclaims, in block stencil-letters, something like "I don't use gardening gloves!"

So, next Wednesday, I'll kindly thank the gardener for his services, send him on his way, and take over from there.

2

Some Maintenance Due for a High-Mileage Chassis

2011-10-19T17:17:00.000-07:00

Sooner or later, it happens to each of us...the day of reckoning with our physicality.

I grew up in a household in which servings of food were oversized, given the influence of my paternal grandmother. Food was dished out by my mother at the end of the table, and we were expected to clean our plates of whatever was placed on them. There was always dessert, and it, too, was "required consumption." To refuse any food was considered a form of disrespect.

I was a decidedly non-athletic kid, and the last one anyone wanted on their team in P.E. So, the only exercise I got was walking to and from school, except when on one of grownups prevailed upon me to let them drive me. I hated the way I looked, but my excess weight was laughingly dismissed by my family as "just baby fat," even into my late teens.

When I finally escaped via a freshman year of college away from home, I quickly made a cadre of new friends and become active. Food was no longer the center of my universe, and I only ate what I truly wanted. The days of moping in my room were behind me, and without my focusing on what was happening, thirty pounds dropped off. Mom and Dad came for Student-Parent Day, about six weeks into the term. Casually bounding up to greet them, I was puzzled by their shocked expressions. Was I sick? Was I unhappy? Did I want to come home? To which I emphatically answered, No, no, and most definitely NO! I loved having the age-appropriate energy--and body--of a seventeen-year-old. It took my family a long time to adjust to Valarie sans "baby fat."

As the years rolled by, I maintained my weight (for the most part) a 100 -105 lb. range. Even after ballooning up to 154 just prior to delivering my son, I promptly got back to my prenatal proportions, only half-joking that, with a new child, I couldn't have afforded to buy a new wardrobe in a new size.

And so the scale stayed at that spot until I hit 40. Then my activity level dropped. My son and I had enjoyed weekends hiking in the local hills and at nature centers, but now he was a teenager who preferred hitting the arcades with his friends. I was working a full-time job, going to school at night, doing an unpaid internship--and resorting to fast food rather than planning to-go meals for my long days away from home. I saw the needle on the scale dial going up....WHEN I was weighed in at doctor's appointments. I would have rather not thought about the number, because I still "felt okay," and could jam myself into my skirts.

Lately, it's been a struggle, and I'm embarrassed to say I've been in a position of lazy surrender. So, after my most recent MD visit, I've gotten on Weight Watchers Online, and (drum roll here), I've begun to drop this ballast! I'm blogging this to go public with my effort, to be accountable. I want to report in to you each Sunday, my friends and readers, as I become svelte again. Here are some of my commitments:

1. To continue to follow the WW Online program to the letter. So many of my friends have had success with it, so I'm without excuse.

2. To avoid drive-throughs -- both food and ATM's. Anything I want to do, or eat, I need to walk towards it. That's what two feet are for!

3. To avoid the "comfort foods," of which I have a very long list. I deserve to be happy, but logically, how does ingesting an extra 500 calories address my mood or issues?

4. To be diligent about daily exercise. I preach about the benefits of activity to my clients, so I need to stop being a hypocrite. Part of this will be to skip the elevators in two of the offices I use. As I climb, I will be carrying my briefcase, purse, and thermos. The extra resistance should help burn a few more calories!

5. To be hopeful. I didn't pack on the pounds overnight. I need to remember that permanent weight loss and maintenance is an ongoing process.

No, I'm NOT doing this for anyone else, or for my upcoming high school reunion. This is for ME, and for the pretty clothes that are waiting for me in the back of my closet.

I will be posting photos--before and after--at a future date. Stay tuned!

WE are the Economy

2011-10-06T07:14:00.000-07:00

"Every man is the architect of his own fortune." -- Appius Claudius

Is anyone else tired of the onslaught of doom and gloom about the financial future of the city, the state, the nation, the world? Even as much as a realist as I am, I know I've long since been "done" with the wave of collective depression and helplessness. When I see the words "economy" and "recession" in the same sentence, my eyes just glaze over and I pull my attention elsewhere.

That's why, despite what I just wrote, I did watch the recent Charlie Rose segment with Warren Buffet. This is a man who looks like he could be someone's kindly uncle or grandpa (he's 81 now, still active, and looks damned good). From what I've read, he's driven the same car for a long time, and lived in the same house for forty-plus years. He's not someone who advocates extremes--living in a tent on one hand, or pulling some series of crazy schemes to get that mansion at others' expenses.

Mr. Buffet's biography reads like an inspirational American-boy-makes-good story. This is a person who started at age 13 with a paper route, started making money as a kid beginning with one pinball machine, and is now a billionaire. Yesterday we lost a visionary, Steve Jobs -- another who started with simple ideas, and wasn't afraid to dream big. Who knows what Mr. Jobs would have achieved had he lived longer, but his legacy, his ideas, will be seed for grander innovations to come.

My 9/10/10 post, "Back to Small," spoke of the potential power of independent businesses. Our country was founded on this kind of sheer hard work. It seems we've come full circle. And yes, even us in, or facing "retirement," need to be considering that we still have much to contribute in terms of energy and creativity. Bluntly, we gotten to be a country that's lost much of its vision, courage, and initiative. We have to make our own lives happen. The times of relying on "someone" (government, 40+ years in one job with cushy retirement to follow) to rescue us are gone. Like someone who gets dumped in a relationship -- once the initial pain and fear subside, the possibilities of independence begin to unfold.

Remember the anti-drug slogans, "A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste?" I have personally committed to actively work past age 100, like that inspirational Hedda Bolgar (written up in last Sunday's L.A. Times). I believe the incredible knowledge, experiences, and wisdom of older Americans is also "a terrible thing to waste." Along with our younger generations, each of us who willingly defies the roles ascribed to older Americans can assist in pushing our country past this current collective despair.

Let's stop thinking of "THE ECONOMY" as some self-propelled blob of evil, ready to consume everything and everyone in its path, like the monster in that cheesy sci-fi flick. The economy is simply the sum total of us, and our decisions. It is our past and present purchases, jobs, and financial portfolios. It is our wise investments, and our foolish impulses driven by greed, fear, or ego. It is each of us, and at the same time, all of us.

Mr. Buffet stated, in the Charlie Rose show, that things will be better -- someday. He spoke of us (collectively) as having been on a spree, and now we're paying for it with the inevitable hangover. Each of us should take his perspective to heart as a call to action. It's not necessary to aspire to be another Warren Buffet or Steve Jobs, but each of us can take responsibility for his or her own life.

Joining a fight that isn't (at least now) too personal

2011-10-02T09:38:00.000-07:00

While doing my usual Saturday grocery run yesterday, I picked up two Dannon Oikos yogurts. For one thing, I've developed a recent love for Greek-style yogurt. Another draw was the coupon I had. The third, and most compelling for me, was the label that said that Dannon will donate at least ten cents for every time someone goes to www.cupsofhope.com, and enters the code under the foil lid.

So, I did, and I feel a little sense of happiness to have contributed to the cause. Each donation of any kind, each 5/10K walk, each...anything...brings us closer to research leading to more effective diagnoses, treatments, and cures.

As far as "The Big C" bothering me, I've been very lucky -- so far. There are the my good genes and family history negative for breast cancer (except for the small tumor my maternal grandma had at 92, which got shrunk to virtually nothing by Tamoxifen by the time she died at 94). I do everything right, I think. Okay, so I'll admit to being irrationally squeamish about the recommended self-exams (What if I find a lump? How will I stand the fear?). But I DO go for the annual boob-squashing ritual, followed by a day or two of breath-holding...but that puts me in the clear, right?

In the fall of 2001, I got a thump on the head, of sorts. At that time, I was working as a case manager at Senior Care Network, a department of Huntington Hospital. It was about 2:30 PM on a Friday, and my office mate and I were doing the usual before-weekend paper shuffling and chatting casually.

My phone rang. A staffer from my doctor's office crisply said that my recent mammogram had been just read, and "they saw something." Would I mind coming in on Monday morning for a follow-up, and...have a nice weekend.

Right. Now that got my attention.

When my RN coworker noticed that I had been sitting for too long in a catatonic-like state, too quiet, she came over and gave me a hug. All of a sudden, words and images welled up and came flooding out, including every cancer story I had ever read or heard in my life. All kinds of "what if" scenarios bombarded me. What if it is cancer? What if they find that it's already spread too far? What if I got too sick to work, to finish my doctoral program, to see Eric grow up and get married....I wanted to live, to maybe find love again, to be a grandma....

Fear. Freaking-out Two of the other f-words. I was off and running with them.

I went home and stuttered out the news to my retired-nurse mom, who actually took it very well. Thankfully, she's always been a hard-core pragmatist, and had a wealth of professional reassurances to share, making my inevitable preoccupation over the weekend slightly easier.

Monday's follow-up appointment transpired, leading to some lab work, two more "inconclusive" mammograms, and a statement that "we'll let you know what else we're going to have done." I went about my work and home lives in a detached state, punctuated by periods of frustrated rages. "(Expletives deleted here), why can't they really tell me something? Am I sick, or am I OK?"

Finally, partly because she was really concerned about my emotional state, and also to quell the storm in our office, my coworker suggested I go to Huntington Hospital's Hill Breast Center. There, I ended up having a state-of-the-art breast ultrasound. They could see my "parts" in exquisite 3-D detail. Even in the throes of my worries, I was fascinated by the technology....and reassured at the end by it.

The doctor came in afterwords, took my hands in his, and said, "You're going to be fine. You just got breasts with lots of fibrous tissue."

I laughed and cried at the same time, relieved as I had never been before. "Fine" and "fibrous" are "f-words" I can live with very nicely, thank you very much. Call me a wimp if you want to, but this is the closest I want to come to having breast cancer. And I wish that for everyone...men (yes, they can get breast cancer!) and women.

Having written this almost makes me feel sheepish. When I think of the women I know who weren't nearly as lucky as me (yes, I know some Stage 4 survivors, and also some who have passed away), I feel somewhat self-indulgent recalling my scare ten years ago. BUT...it's burned in my brain, and I won't look at the issue of breast cancer the same way again.

Comforting anchors, as considered this October 1st

2011-10-01T08:44:00.000-07:00

This is more than a month-by-month calendar. This is a fixture, as permanent to our house as the plumbing or wiring.

It's one of the calendars my Mom orders from the Miles Kimball catalog around early September. We were recalling the other day that she has been placing this same order, every year, for over forty years!

One goes on her bedroom wall, within easy viewing range of her bed, with its large numbers and uncluttered printing. Yes, Mom also has others hung on the walls, especially the ones from various animal causes showing cute puppies and kittens. This is the one, however, Mom automatically glances at when I'm telling her of some social or business-related function I'll be attending. It's her way, even at my age, of lovingly keeping tabs on me...(I sigh at the inevitability of that fact).

Another gets sent directly to my brother and his wife in their tiny South Carolina town, because, as he said to Mom one time, "It wouldn't seem like Christmas if I didn't get my calendar from you."

The one shown above has been hung on the kitchen wall for decades. I even recall--as far back as my days at John Muir Junior High--Mom marking doctor appointments and days I'd be late coming home from school in upper-case black marker notations. It was, for so long, the chronicle of our individual and family existences. Even when my son and I moved back here in 1988, Mom began noting, and continues to do so, "special events" on the very back page, which is the "Forget-Me-Not Diary." Such milestones have included when Eric and I planted the elm tree in the very back lawn when an old garage was torn down in 1988, the day I had the new back walk installed, and even when the cat Tiggy got spayed and had her teeth cleaned!

Fast forward -- and now I sadly admit that I've hardly ever looked at the kitchen calendar recently. It's there, of course, but I'm so dependent now on the one on my computer, with its email reminder feature. The only time I notice the Miles Kimball heirloom is when I'm standing, half-conscious in the early morning, brewing my coffee.

Even Eric, on one of his now-hurried visits now that he's married and moved away, remarked how the calendar is something he'd miss if it wasn't there.

In one of my recent redecorating brainstorm sessions, I actually thought of doing away with the kitchen calendar when I finally get around to repainting. But I don't have the heart. I hate to think of the void there would be if, in one of our family conversations, someone said, "Well, go look on the calendar..." and it wasn't there anymore.

No, the calendar stays, no matter what.

I was a social worker in another life, so here are some things for your consideration

2011-09-29T08:41:00.000-07:00

I consider it both a responsibility and a pleasure to suggest that midlife persons investigate resources, such as the following, for their future well-being.

Please note: I do not have, or imply, any vested interest in the businesses listed below. I also do not assume any responsibility for any outcomes of any of my readers' transactions with these, or any similar businesses.

For Long-Term Care Insurance: Brian R. Kavanagh, Genworth Financial, 805-657-9559, www.genworth.com/briankavanagh. We "boomers" are the "sandwich generation." While we are so busy caring for our young adult offspring--and for our aging loved ones, as well--we forget that we need to plan for the future. Brian is a very knowledgeable agent, as well as having a calming, reassuring demeanor. This is vital for those of us who may experience anxiety when we consider purchasing Long Term Care insurance, or any other contract which forces us to acknowledge that we (who may have gone by the credo "Don't trust anyone over 30") are not "immortal" or "invincible!"

For Financial Consultation: Shawn Francis, World Financial Group, 818-559-6367. In an age where real service and relationships in the financial services industry are rare, I have found both in Shawn Francis. I am appreciative of Shawn's knowledge of the potential financial vehicles available to mid-lifers like myself. Shawn's willingness to accommodate my busy schedule has been essential to me. He has been willing to sit and truly listen to my goals and concerns, and design a program that will address them, though he keeps a very busy schedule himself. I trust Shawn. He charges no fee for his services and while he is happy to serve the wealthy, his focus is on the everyday person and family that would otherwise be ignored by the industry, regardless of income. I highly recommend taking advantage of the opportunity to speak with him.

The AARP Life @ 50+ Convention in Los Angeles--or as I say, "Age be damned!"

2011-09-24T02:37:00.000-07:00

It's 1:30 AM on Saturday, and I've got to wind down and sleep. Still, I feel compelled to write about my experience at this conference, and how it has enriched my life.

In the past several months, when I first became aware of this convention, I vacillated as to whether I was going to go or not, wrapping three days -- Wednesday the 21st, Thursday the 22nd, and today, Friday, the 23rd -- around my standing therapy appointments. In the end, my curiosity won out, and I'm glad I attended. I met some wonderful people, and have come away energized and inspired.

On Wednesday evening, we were escorted to a fleet of tour buses to go to the "Meet & Greet" at the L.A. Center Studios. We almost didn't make it. What was supposed to have been a quick jaunt down Figueroa ended up being an hour-plus odyssey with a bus driver who was young, inexperienced -- and totally lost. After an unintended scenic tour that nearly took us to Long Beach, and having a busload of disgruntled riders ready to mutiny and commandeer the vehicle, some stepped to the front and convinced the driver to get back on the freeway toward "home."

Ultimately, the Meet & Greet proved worth it. There were catering trucks with quality grub, including one from In 'N Out Burger, a bakery, and some vegetarian fare. There was a cash bar and free wine tasting. What made the evening, though, was the jazz sounds of The Spanish Harlem Orchestra. How wonderful to see so many jumping up and down, waving their arms rhythmically as if they were kids at a rock concert, and dancing under the stars.

When we packed into the Nokia Theater on Thursday, passing the bag checks at the security check-points, we were all thrilled hear Jon Secada give a heartfelt performance of the national anthem. Jon also performed at Friday's Ice Cream Social. Major Villaraigosa and AARP officials were on hand to set the tone with an encouraging welcome, and it was also a learning experience. CEO Addison Barry Rand told us that AARP got its start in 1958 by Dr. Ethel Percy Andrus, a retired high school principal who had begun the National Retired Teachers Association in 1947. Dr. Jane Goodall, who most of us remember from the National Geographic documentaries we saw growing up, gave us elders an urgent call to action on behalf of the world our children and grandchildren will inherit. The Jane Goodall Institute, together with its Roots and Shoots program, helps combat ignorance and apathy among youth who have despaired over being able to turn back some of the damage inflicted by prior generations. For a dramatic shift in tone, the show ended with the riotous comedy gifts of Carol Burnett and Tim Conway. I wanted to get Dr. Goodall's autograph on one of her books, but I got distracted among the vendor booths, and didn't get to that area in time. I consoled myself with ambling around the vendors, from travel firms to computer companies--to things like Depends and hearing aids!

My AARP experience was topped off with the Friday return visit to the Nokia Plaza for the Ice Cream Social. The Rope Master amazed early arrivals with his talent with novel moves with an ordinary jump rope. I also enjoyed walking among antique automobiles, buffed to a mirror shine. It was a pleasure to make the acquaintance of some representatives of a local chapter of the Red Hat Society (www.redhatsociety.com). Fueled by a combination of ice cream and Cosmopolitans, I followed them onto a packed dance floor, and we concluded that the music of the Poncho Sanchez Latin Jazz Band is the best damned fibulator in the world!

The most important thing I have taken away is the camaraderie I felt and observed, and the validation of my belief that "life does begin at 50." I feel a renewed sense of purpose, hope, and responsibility to my generation.

www.aarp.org/about-aarp/events/national-event

Thoughts for Labor Day, 2011

2011-09-05T09:10:00.000-07:00

When we're kids, either at play or in school, we are encouraged to ponder, "What do I want to be?"

Fast forward a few decades, and wherever we go, one of the first questions posed is, "So, what do you do?"

At what point, in so many of our lives, does being and doing become separated?

It could start when, after the glossiness of being in that new (often first) job wears off, due, perhaps to fatigue, confusion, or the embarrassment of having made your first "mistake." It's one that usually doesn't result in termination, but it's one that gets burned in your brain FOREVER. It's then that, sadly and often, an older, jaded colleague will take you aside and say, "Hey, kid, it's just a job!"

Ouch. For this you went through years of school, richly envisioned a career path, sent out resumes, ran the interview gauntlet, idealistically hoping that you would stand out, be noticed, and make a difference? How many kids do you hear say, in their playtime fantasies of the future, "Awww, I just wanna job..."? No, they dare to dream, and it usually involves doing something--humble or grand--that somehow leaves a legacy.

At church yesterday, our interim pastor, Rev. Mike Young, led a service that was rich in material to mine for this post. In the opening words, we read in unison, "May we be reminded here of our highest aspirations,/and inspired to bring our gifts of/love and service to the altar of/humanity./May we know once again/ that we/are not isolated beings/but connected, in mystery and/miracle, to the universe,/to this community and to each/other."

Mike then told a sweet story to the children, "The Stone in the Road," about a miserly, rich old man in Persia, who became more abundant in spirit once he shared his treasure, buried under the boulder in the middle of the road, over which everyone tripped. A little beggar boy happened upon the old man's stash as he pried up the rock, simply because he was tired of falling over it. One of the messages Mike underscored to the young listeners was that the "issues" we "trip over" in life can be used to our advantage if we stop simply complaining about them and look for the solution. (More on that in posts to come!). As I heard Mike tell this story, I also thought of Jesus' story of keeping one's candle under a bushel, and how our lighting up people's lives means being bold, and putting our energy out there for everyone to see and use. Being "the light of the world" is generous and loving, but it can be risky on many levels, and that's why so much--in our personal and work lives--remains undone, and unacknowledged. How many times do we not reach out to our loved ones because we assume they "just won't understand?" Or, at work, we sit silent in staff meetings because we're afraid of saying something that would be "stupid," and we think it might reflect badly on the image our peers have of us? Little by little, our "light" gets extinguished, and no one would know the power it might have had on the moment...

It would be easy to belabor (pardon the use of this word) the topic of unemployment stats, stock market, the GDP, the IMF, etc., etc. When the children left the sanctuary, Mike discussed, for the grown-up ears, just how illusory the whole concept of money ("pieces of paper") really is. He also reminded us of something I've said on the web about collective fear being the primary driving force of the economy these days, as opposed to actual scarcity of funds, or seeing community work projects that need doing. The amount of "stuff" is still there; it's a matter of how it's being distributed that is problematic. It's very easy for our society to become like that old man in Mike's story, when competing priorities scream at us from the headlines. Sharing resources with our communities under these circumstances is not always easy, but, as Mike stated, it serves "enlightened self-interest." With each of us doing our small share, we each benefit. Is it any accident that there are now coaches/therapists coming forward in increasing numbers, offering services to help people with their "relationship with money?" In the same vein, there are employment coaches, and therapists who intervene when workplace bullying causes employees to feel threatened and disempowered, trapped in situations that are psychologically unsafe.

Perhaps we also need to look at work as something we are, not simply what we do (re-read the first two lines of this post). I'd be horribly remiss if I neglected to acknowledge unpaid laborers--including volunteers, family caregivers, house-spouses, stay-at-home parents--as part of the force. This can help rekindle some of the initial joy of our jobs, and help take pride in how we serve others on a daily basis. In other words, from a relationship perspective, we can revive the passion we once had, and combat the burnout that can so suddenly overtake us. And for those who have been laid off and are "resorting" to taking a job that is "not what I'm really looking for," I would suggest that there is dignity in all work, and it's mentally as well as financially healing to look for that worth. The pain of this current economy is in large part about feeling displaced, and no longer feeling useful. It's sort of like getting dumped in a relationship, but eventually, other passionate connections can be made. It's a matter of rolling away the boulder, and fiercely, courageously looking at unconsidered possibilities.

At the end of the service, we read Marge Percy's, "To Be of Use:"

I want to be with people who submerge in the task,
Who go into the fields to harvest and work in a row and pass the bags along.
Who stand in the line and haul in their places,
Who are not parlor generals and field deserters but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.
The work of the world is common as mud. Botched, it smears the hands,
crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil, Hopi vases that held corn, are put in
museums but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry and a person for work that is real.

An Unexpected Sunday Gift

2011-08-21T22:28:00.001-07:00

This morning, Sunday, 9:30 AM: I gulped my black rocket fuel from the hot stainless-steel travel mug, juggling my brief case, keys, and overstuffed purse as I hoped that I could get to Studio City, find a parking spot, and dash into church before 10:00 AM worship starts. Not that anyone takes roll -- it's just that my early indoctrination about being ON TIME has stuck with me after all these years.

I briefly considered "ditching," telling myself that I had "too much" to catch up on before seeing my afternoon clients.

Now I'm glad I didn't.

The sermon title on the marquee, "Showing Up and Saying YES!" was certainly intriguing. Quietly opening the door at the back of the sanctuary, the first thing I saw and heard was this man, Jason Poole, calling us to the service with Sounding the Pu and Oli Aloha, traditional Hawaiian welcoming chants. This was new to me, and beautiful.

Jason's talk, about listening to one's inner voice (demonstrated by touching his middle torso) spoke to the need to reach out to others. It also was about the triumph of courage over doubt, indifference, and fear of involvement. His premise, the benefit of saying "yes" when one's knee-jerk reaction is to retreat with a "no," flies in the face of much of our isolating tendencies. All too often, our self-protective "boundaries" have become barricades, interfering with our ability to serve our neighboring human beings. When Jason touched his torso, I thought of the old expression "having a fire in one's belly," and what it is for people to be truly passionate about life.

Jason told about his life journey from Pittsburgh to New York City to Molokai, Hawaii, transitions driven originally by his triumph over illness and a desire to express himself through the dramatic arts. His voice was clear and vibrant, keeping our collective rapt attention. When he gave us several musical offerings on his ukulele, I noticed more than one person moved to tears of joy.

Jason teaches classes in Hawaiian music to New York City youth, and I would love to suggest that he expand this work to include senior citizens. Music is so transcendent, I can visualize the mental health benefits for elders with depression or early-stage dementia.

Check out Jason Poole Pilipo Solatario's blog at: http://themolokainews.com

Of course, the "end" is near...

2011-05-20T22:41:00.000-07:00

Each day we face as we wake up, each moment we live, is both a beginning and an end...in the best senses of the words.

We create our world, and our reality, with our thoughts and actions, all the time.

Instead of reacting in fear, let's use each day--not just tomorrow, May 21st--as a way to reinvent ourselves and make the world the best it can be. Sounds simplistic, but it's about as straightforward as I can make it.

RIP & Happy Anniversary

2011-05-11T08:50:00.000-07:00

Today would have been Lyle's and my 28th wedding anniversary.

Wherever your soul dwells, Lyle, I hope you know that I owe you a debt of gratitude for the time we had together, and for the wonderful son whose life arose from it. In fact, Eric's own second wedding anniversary is coming up next Monday.

I like to think that you're watching us, and haven't missed a thing as we move forward in our lives.

2011-05-01T08:13:00.001-07:00

I've recently become a serious fan of Robert Fritz. His post today, "Regeneration," echoes the sentiments I wrote about in my last blog post. Please go to www.robertfritz.com.

Enjoy this beautiful Sunday, May 1st!

Spring Renewal 2011

2011-04-22T10:49:00.000-07:00

This year, in fact, for the first time in my recollection, I am energized with an urge to renew and change.

The impulse has spilled over into various aspects of my life. Utilizing the muscle of my 6'5" son, I have moved furniture around in my living and dining rooms, giving the spaces a much more open feel. The fireplace mantle is adorned with a steady supply of fresh roses from my garden, and their fragrance is the best form of aromatherapy.

In the kitchen, I'm rethinking what's on my counter-top and in the cupboards. If it's not going to be used, off it goes to charity or to my daughter-in-law. As I do this purge, I recall to mind Dr. David Whyte's concept of "radical simplification," and it's so freeing!

And I'm boycotting my TV for awhile. While I've never considered myself a hard-core couch potato, there are some reruns that, as beloved as they are, need to be put to the side. Instead, I've bumped up my personal reading time, which is as essential to my cognitive health as my professional journal-reading is to my career.

Here's what I've got going on, concurrently, by my bedside:

Passages in Caregiving, by Gail Sheehy. This book will join her other work in my bookcase.

Take the Stress out of Your Life by Jay Winner, M.D. This comes with two CD's, to which I have already begun listening.

The Art of Non-Conformity:Set Your Own Rules, Live the Life You Want, and Change the World, by Chris Guillebeau. This looks like a blueprint for my continued midlife journey.

And, to prepare for viewing the movie, I've resumed reading Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand.

Last, I recommend to my readers some of the work of David Whyte:

This promises to be a season of renewal on many levels for me...

Souvenirs in Concrete

2011-04-15T22:21:00.000-07:00

Call it one of my eccentricities, but I have always been fascinated by the sidewalk. Specifically, those sections of the sidewalk with the contractors' names imprinted in them, or the quickly etched names and dates of those who just can't seem to leave wet cement alone.

I will stop and gaze at these modern-day hieroglyphics, wondering about the people who poured the concrete and then put their company names there. How long ago was it? Did these men (probably true prior to the 1960's, when it was taken for granted that "Men at Work" were exactly that. Did they have a wife and children at home? What did they eat on their lunch breaks? What were their names? Are any of these people still alive, and do they ever think of the impressions on the sidewalks? It's another form of time-capsule.

The sidewalk impressions of the less formal, unapproved type are even more fascinating.

Just who was Cheri E. who inscribed her name and the date May 3, 1973 outside 15760 Ventura Boulevard in Encino, California? Would she even remember doing so, or would someone she knows, by chance, read this blog and let her know that someone in 2011 is interested in her?

Near my church, I recently saw "G.P. 1944" in the cement. Again, I was riveted, just as one might be if one found a bottle with a message in it. What did the writer want others to consider when seeing the initials and date? Again, is this persona alive, and do they remember doing this?

Grafitti just doesn't touch me as much; it can be easily painted over. Words or names in cement, however, carry with them such permanence. There's a guerilla-type defiance to writing in cement. We all want to be remembered, and these people are reaching out over time.

Does anyone else take note of things like this?

Discovering MARC at UCLA

2011-03-30T05:54:00.001-07:00

I regret I have been away from this page for so long. As a therapist, I'm always counseling people to "make time," and I have to say I haven't been taking my own advice.

Yesterday, during my workday, I was told about this wonderful resource:

UCLA Mindful Awareness Research Center

It seems that this was presented to me at a time when I needed it the most. Let me hold myself accountable here, to be in the here-and-now, even when the present wants to take me off on some tangent. The present doesn't wait...we can't expect to have "peace in the moment" by putting it off until an elusively convenient future day.

Enjoy the day...and I promise to be more present for you, and for myself.

When To Tell The Whole, Ugly Truth

2011-01-25T15:37:00.000-08:00

To protect someone you love from emotional pain, or give them the dignity of knowledge...and who might you be protecting, the loved one, or yourself from having to be there to support them? Take a look at the article below from Boomer Living.

When To Tell The Whole, Ugly Truth

For-Profit Higher Education -- My Thoughts

2011-01-21T16:01:00.001-08:00

Google "For-profit colleges," and you can see lots of posts from naysayers. I read something today which spoke of those that turn out "...poorly educated students with heavy debt."

Yes, for every service there appear respectable institutions -- and those simply taking advantage of people's need.

In recent decades, the push for an educated workforce has given rise to the for-profit educational sector. Among those it proposes to empower are single parents, especially mothers, who want to have the resources to command jobs with a future and equitable wages. Not too many would argue against this.

In the 1990's, prior to online instruction, I found for-profit schooling to be a way to finish the degree I had started years ago. Only a few courses away from graduation from a Cal State campus, I was faced with an unattractive option: give up my day job with insurance benefits for my young child and myself, and flip burgers at night to take classes during the day. It seemed that it was either that, or give up my long-range professional goals. That's when I found "my school," and the rest, as the cliche goes, is history.

Here's my opinion about this poor education/heavy debt argument. There has ALWAYS been instruction that's lacking everywhere, on any campus, in any era. And, also, there have also been those who are not mindful of the amounts they borrow, for education or any other commodity. Blame for the lack of value can be shared by many.

When I commenced night-time adult learning, I was reassured by the genuinely collegial relationship I saw shared by the instructors and students. In the main, the professors were successful practitioners by day, and eager to use these anecdotes in class at night to enhance learning. Most students were seeking learning for its own sake, and also to become active contributors to their professions and communities.

I'm saddened to hear and read that for-profit schools are, all too often, looked at as simply a quick route to a diploma. Tuition has engendered an attitude of entitlement, with students complaining about instructors who don't give them the "A" they "deserve" -- or "paid for." Knowledge loses its cachet, and students and society are deprived of so much potential cultural enrichment when there is only superficial material and rote regurgitation of facts and figures. The scene from the 1960 film "The Time Machine" comes to mind, when Rod Taylor finds that the Eloi have allowed a library of books to turn to dust, because they did not know how to use them.

Academic rigor can be a casualty of "quick and easy education," if instructors are not prepared to show that they are passionate about their topics, and firm in their standards. As a professor, how many times have I heard, "Well, the other teachers don't make us do all this...". So, if all we instructors don't take excellence seriously, how can we fault our students for not doing so either?

Bottom line, I'm truly proud of the contribution that my for-profit education had in my life, both personal and professional. I fondly remember my professors for the fine, heartfelt work they did, and try to carry on their influences in my teaching.

It's time for both students and instructors in the for-profit sector to take authentic pride in their schools, even if there are no ivy-covered walls surrounding them. The prestige of learning should be a state of mind, not subject to the kind of building in which it is conducted.

How Facebook Salvaged Christmas for Me

2010-12-18T11:03:00.000-08:00

Until a few days ago, I was ready to gladly hand over my Christmas to the Grinch. He wouldn't have had to steal it; hey, I was willing to scratch the whole damned Yule season permanently from my crazy to-do list of a life.

My mom's increasing need for my care (which I consider a labor of the utmost love); a recent rear-ending of my car (banging ME up, too, pretty good); friends whom I have missed, but put reluctantly on the back burner; and my practice, a calling more than just a job.

All of the sudden, "holiday cheer" and 2010's end were staring down at me. All of the sudden, it all seemed too much. I was let down, irritable, and sad.

This mindset startled me--someone who normally couldn't wait, immediately following Thanksgiving, to haul out decorations. There are heirloom stockings, embellished with each family member's name, that my mother lovingly knitted over many decades. Ornaments, both contemporary and antique, waited for almost-prayerful placement on the tree I browbeat my son into carrying into the house. A macrame Christmas tree hanging, which my mom got as a gift and to which she cleverly fastened miniature lights, has always shown up in the dining room window facing the street.

This year, it seemed like one more pesky task for which I didn't have the energy or the inclination. After a day of dodging a barrage of Christmas carols on the radio stations, I came home, and said to Mom the unthinkable, "I hate Christmas!"

Mom did one of her wise-motherly soft contradictions, "No, you don't!" Even though I was in a prickly mood, Mom is one person with whom I prefer not to do battle, because I do so, with at least one person, on nearly a daily basis. When I'm home, I like to feel I don't have to struggle. I let the conversation drop. I did, however, rant to my Facebook pals, and am glad now that I did. Elizabeth suggested that I "go with" my feelings of angst if that's what I was experiencing. At first that was my thought, but my emotional memories weren't quite ready to succumb. Donna suggested I get a table-top display and "call it good." David reminded me of the "spirit that lasts throughout the year." Others suggested music and wine. The point was that my FB friends--old classmates from Burbank High--stepped up to give me support I needed more than I'd realized.

One night, after a particularly heart-tugging client session, I wended my way through the Burbank streets, saw some warm light displays (including that of my son and daughter-in-law), and was suddenly moved. I regretted my stubbornness about setting up our tree and for allowing the everyday rush to displace the joy I usually feel this season.

Out came the stockings and the window hanging. On the fireplace mantle, I placed two small creches I'd gotten as a little girl in Sunday School back in Kenmore, NY. In place of the big tree, I used my Grandma McKale's electric tree. It's about eighteen inches high, solid ceramic, and lights up with tiny colorful bulbs. When Grandma flew out here from Florida in the early Seventies to live here, she firmly refused to stow it with the baggage. It rode, securely packed in a box, on her lap to its new home. When I bring it out every year, it calls to mind the sweetly stubborn lady who was Grandma. Plugging it in this night, it was more than "good"--it was "wonderful." Once my task was complete, I took my friend Mary Ellen's advice and opened some Gazela Vinho Verde and toasted what will now be a "Merry Little Christmas."

Thank you, friends. Now I don't mind the Christmas carols at all. In fact, they're quite nice.

Another way to find me! At your service...

2010-11-25T09:55:00.000-08:00

This is Theravive, another way directory I'm on.

http://www.theravive.com/therapists/Valarie-Cascadden.aspx

2010-10-21T07:07:00.001-07:00

Postal (Dis)Service: When my elderly mother signs a delivery slip and has me attach it to the mail box for her annual delivery of two calendars from Miles Kimball. The slip gets picked up on 10-13-10, and the days tick by, as my mom sits patiently each day waiting for it to come (she needs to sign for this, too!). Mom has to sit in the living room, due to her limited mobility. She has called the local P.O., informed them that it takes her some time and effort to get to the door. This is supposedly "noted," and Mom is told to wait "anywhere between 8 AM and 5 PM." On 10-20-10, Mom calls up and is told that the package has been "sitting" in the Post Office all this time down the street. Today, I will go MYSELF to pick it up--all I need to do is present a signed letter releasing the package into my custody, and also my photo ID. If there are any further glitches, I'm prepared to raise appropriate hell.

2010-10-03T07:44:00.001-07:00

The Hidden Benefits of the Aging Brain http://ping.fm/FDlpJ

2010-09-30T06:37:00.001-07:00

Host A Screening http://ping.fm/zN9ml

Obama signs small business bill

2010-09-29T10:00:00.000-07:00

A follow-up to my previous post, "Back to Small."

Obama signs small business bill

Something touching as I listen to "Soul Music" on KUSC 91.5 FM

2010-09-26T07:52:00.000-07:00

From poemhunters.com, one of my favorite sites:

Friends Departed

They are all gone into the world of light!
And I alone sit ling'ring here;
Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear.

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,
Like stars upon some gloomy grove,
Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest
After the sun's remove.

I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days:
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmering and decays.

O holy Hope! and high Humility,
High as the heavens above!
These are your walks, and you have show'd them me,
To kindle my cold love.

Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the Just,
Shining nowhere, but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mark!

He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest may know,
At first sight, if the bird be flown;
But what fair well or grove he sings in now,
That is to him unknown.

And yet as Angels in some brighter dreams
Call to the soul, when man doth sleep:
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,
And into glory peep.

If a star were confin'd into a tomb,
Her captive flames must needs burn there;
But when the hand that lock'd her up gives room,
She'll shine through all the sphere.

O Father of eternal life, and all
Created glories under Thee!
Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall
Into true liberty.

Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill
My perspective still as they pass:
Or else remove me hence unto that hill,
Where I shall need no glass.

Henry Vaughan

Wisdom of the "Common Man"

2010-09-14T06:35:00.001-07:00

Are we perhaps returning to the days of the troubadours? Many of us in the "love generation" of the Sixties were laughed at when that decade waned into the brash mega-materialism of the Eighties and Nineties. Maybe our day, and philosophies, have come around again. Click on the link below.

We NEED to see more messages like this on the web. Watch, listen, enjoy, and take to heart:

http://ping.fm/X9K7j

Back to Small

2010-09-10T14:00:00.000-07:00

Right now, I think we're in the "Little Engine That Could" mode. We're SO weary of the uncertainty that the Great Recession has bred, and looking around desperately to see even the faintest signs of recovery.

I know I do. Every time I see a real estate sign on a lawn, and a "SOLD" or "IN ESCROW" has appeared on top, I give a little cheer. Then, going down into the commercial district, as I see small storefronts with "closing" banners, even though I don't know these enterprises or their owners, I feel a sadness. This wasn't just the folding of a business, it was the relinquishing of a dream. And yes, the closing of corporations like Circuit City or Mervyn's is disturbing, what with the adding to unemployment rolls and all, but it's the little deaths that pain me even more. I envision the person who rented the space, invested in inventory, took out credit card debt for advertising and promotions...whether the company lasted a month or many decades (such as Kessler's Jewelers in Burbank), its closing diminishes a community. True, there are venerable businesses that ostensibly close for lack of a young generation to carry it on, but you can't tell me that our current pains don't also have a bearing on the decision.

Didn't even the mega-corporations (like the fast-food chains or computer companies) start with someone's mullings over a kitchen table, or in a garage? It has been the "little" ventures on which our country was founded and has evolved. Capitalism and competition are not dirty words.

There needs to be return a genuine work ethic. "Get rich quick" was not always in our mindset, and the fears of "being poor" have led to average people falling for scams. Can't we each look in our email boxes each day, and see questionable offers for making $$$$$$ per day or week? These offers have always been around, but it seems like they're proliferating--to pander to people's fears and desires to try to carve out some control and security.

I LIKE independent stores. Going up and down Magnolia Boulevard through Burbank, North Hollywood, and Van Nuys, it's almost a way of getting a read on the character of a neighborhood. The last few years have seen more and more store fronts putting their wares outside onto the sidewalk. It actually lends charm, I think, to what used to be a buttoned-down area. We've taken on an open-air bazaar atmosphere, much more inviting.

There is much press about big-corporate bailouts by the government. I'd like the private sector to begin problem-solving how we "little people" can quit waiting for "things to get better," and push things along with hard work, optimism, and creativity. It's happened before in our history. Why not again?

Something I found this AM...just something to keep in mind for us or those we love

2010-09-10T07:08:00.000-07:00

Many of us from the Sixties dabbled in pot, booze, acid, etc., etc. And then we stopped when we "grew up." Or did we? May we were "clean" as kids, and then the midlife work and family stressors got to us...

Alcoholism Among Boomers

Curbing alcohol misuse in the elderly.(PREVENTION IN ACTION): An article from: Clinical Psychiatry News

Substance abuse in the elderly a growing issue.(GERIATRICS): An article from: Internal Medicine News

Los Angeles County child welfare official falsified death reports, two employees claim - latimes.com

2010-09-09T10:01:00.000-07:00

OR: "Where is Charles Dickins When You Need Him?"

It's been nearly ten years since I left my position at a local (now closed) foster family agency, to take the next steps on my career path. We case managers were continually feeling the pressure to "place children," and monitor the situations in the foster homes. Our weekly visits were ostensibly to oversee the safe and proper care of these minors, and to ensure that the orders of the Juvenile Court judges and County Social Workers (CSW's) in the Department of Children & Family Services (DCFS) were followed. Implicitly, however, we were charged with doing whatever possible to make sure that the placements didn't "fall apart," which would ultimately mean lost revenue for the foster parents and our agency.

Bottom line -- many foster children are still not safe in this country. Being minors, they are represented by social workers, attorneys, judges, AND foster parents--the best of whom may be good-hearted, but poorly trained in the psychological processes of traumatized children, and also very overwhelmed. On the other end of the spectrum, I encountered all too many who thought of foster care as purely a business, or the children as an inconvenience. One man called me up on my duty day, and said, "Hey, I hear you pay people to take in kids? How much?" When I stated that it depended upon the the age(s) and number(s) of children that could be placed with him, and his successful completion of our orientation program, this man hastily said, "Yeah, I'll get back to you." We also fielded calls such as the frazzled mom who wanted us to "take my ungrateful daughter and teach her a lesson," and the couple who wanted placement so they could go on a cruise for their anniversary.

Then, after what would seem to be good matches and smooth placements, I would often get middle-of-the-night pages from foster parents, demanding to "PICK THESE KIDS UP RIGHT NOW!" The misdeeds? "They're going to the bathroom too much," "They're not staying in their rooms--can't I just lock them in," "There's too much sibling rivalry; my own kids never fought like this," "He's using the f-word at our dinner table. This is a Christian home!" And those are the tamer calls I got. I would be on the phone, trying to bring myself out of my sleep, giving these foster parents a crash Child Psychology 101 course, and begging them to please wait till I got there first thing in the morning and not do anything rash. Then I would be at the home, as promised, trying to get them to see that these were damaged, traumatized little ones. Despite whatever horrific situations existed with their biological families, it was what was familiar to them. In their minds, all the kids had to do was act up, and they would magically go back to whatever home they had. To expect them to sit with hands folded and be grateful little cherubs was too much of a stretch for them. Sometimes I got the message across--and too often not. In the latter case, I would sigh, call the CSW, and the disruptive process would begin yet again for the children.

And then there were the biological family members. A tiny handful would comply with the court mandates and get their kids back, and it was happily ever after. Others, however, would promise to visit--and wouldn't show up, leaving the kids to be crying, disappointed, and prone to acting out when I took them back to the foster homes. Or worse, there would be those who would spend what was supposed to be time with their children, ranting to me about the injustices of the "system," and that they had "RIGHTS."

Returning to the earlier bottom-line reference: children ARE inconvenient. They need lots of care--from either biological family, or others who can do the job appropriately. As long as this basic human need exists, there will be a need for a social system like DCFS. Please don't misunderstand--my agency did have wonderful foster parents, ones who realized the true nature and enormous responsibility that is foster care. There were also terrific CSW's, and they were prepared to suck it up and handle the hectic, heavy caseloads assigned to them. But until we stop just paying lip-service to family values, patch up the holes in our social safety net, and truly value our children, tragic oversights of the DCFS system will be perpetuated.

Los Angeles County child welfare official falsified death reports, two employees claim - latimes.com

Beware the desire for a "savior"

2010-09-06T17:02:00.000-07:00

Another thing that has been on my mind. Tough times spawn fear,emotional rhetoric, and the desire to get problems fixed--yesterday if possible.

I don't want my blog to become heavy with polemics, but perhaps wherever there lies desire for change, there is a political concern. Just as a generation ago, we women would defensively say, "I'm not a feminist, but..." now people sheepishly admit to their own leanings.

Okay, go ahead and be conservative...or liberal...or whatever. Just don't be sheep. I've seen the videos of the Palin-Beck rally, and now fast-forward through the repetitive onslaught of election TV spots. Regardless of who you voted for in the last presidential election, all I hope is that you didn't do it with the hope that the winner would miraculously save us from years of collective missteps. In the almost two years since the last big crusade (conducted with an almost spiritual zeal), there has been much second-guessing and disappointment.

I think it was inevitable that (given our human nature), whoever "won" the election was going to be set up--first as a rescuing hero, and then as a scapegoat. The political pendulum, as I see it, is being swung more by desperation than by pragmatism. A week or so ago, when I was contemplating this post, I thought that we were in the throes of a 1960's-like division, but now I'm concerned that we're more leaning toward a herd mentality. With divisiveness there remains spirited debate, a check-and-balance; in the thunder of a frightened mass, voices often fall silent. Silence can then engender apathy, and even despair. With lack of knowledge and ideas, a nation is prime for extremists to step in and do its thinking for it. THAT is what frightens me, not Obama-versus-the-GOP.

Our country, and our world, cannot afford the luxury of hopelessness. I noted that the recent 90th anniversary of the passage of women's right to vote got very understated press. Perhaps--at least I hope so--a bigger deal was made of it in the schools. We need an informed and involved populace, and it begins with our youngest citizens, our schoolchildren. I'd like to see publications like the Wall Street Journal, Forbes, and the New York Times become standard classroom required reading for students AND teachers.

Years ago, when I worked in a boys' group home, I was saddened to hear the residents shrug and say things like, "Oh, well, what difference does it make? My life, and the world is f***** up, and it won't change. You grown-ups don't care." Those boys are now in their late twenties, and I wonder just how their statements have been validated. Or if we can each take an active role, and help try to alter the course of OUR history.

Why we need Betty White -- and Beth Weems Pirtle

2010-09-06T15:44:00.000-07:00

At 88, she's achieved what we all envy -- yet another chance to be reinvented. Damn, I think this broad is a cat reincarnated, and only on maybe her third or fourth of the nine allotted lives!

When I first saw Betty as Sue Ann Nivens on "The Mary Tyler Moore Show," her fierce brand of femininity was lost on me. At the time, I was a square-peg young lady trying desperately to fit into a very smoothly-rounded life, one with which I was unhappy, but told that I "should be" content. I was engaged to a "nice boy," and had a "nice job," and didn't want to admit how confining "nice" felt. Still, watching Sue Ann's antics was a guilty pleasure, by which I could vicariously tap into my inner bitch. She symbolized all the women friends who had betrayed me, and was a female I loved to hate. Still, I admired her acting out the same sexual boldness that men always had displayed with impunity. Her Rose Nyland role on "Golden Girls" showed us more of the same, this time with a little more ladylike fluff.

The context of Betty's life, which includes her long-time marriage to Allan Ludden, and her public animal-welfare interest, has diversified her public image and saved her from becoming a one-dimensional "dirty-old-lady" caricature.

With us boomers aging, thank goodness the concept of the "senior years" is being redefined by people like Betty. She is everywhere now again--commercials, TV (how about that SNL performance?), and the big screen. The sharply-timed wit puts Sue Ann's witticisms to shame. Such comments from a 33-year-old would elicit shrugs, but from Betty, they draw cheers. At a time when we think we may be past the need for an empowering role model, along comes Betty.

And then there's the 74-year-old beauty queen Beth Weems Pirtle. Funny, with the ebbing popularity of "Miss America," the news of Pirtle's success was just a little footnote. How regrettable, and why is that, anyway? Might it serve to remind us of our still-ambivalent view of seniors, especially women? If we take glamour for granted in a twenty-year-old girl, why then not celebrate it in an senior, who certainly reflects more life experience in every curve AND age-acquired line in her face. Again, we have another role model, one who defies the "old bag" inevitability.

As I continue my own journey toward 74, and then 88, I know people like Betty and Beth will be among my inspirations. Gray hair? Creases? An ache or two? Bring 'em on! Men have integrated the "distinguished" look into their aging process sucessfully, so it's up to us to do the same.

2010-08-31T07:20:00.001-07:00

It's the '60's all over again -- with all sides digging in!

As busy as I am today, I feel compelled to blog something about diverse things. So, check me out on sagehippiephd.blogspot.com, and then let me know what you think.

2010-08-27T12:35:00.001-07:00

I did some marketing of my practice today. I want to thank Modesto at the Hillside Cafe, and Maria at Lancer's for letting me put a display of my promotional materials in their Burbank restaurants. My family and I patronize these fine establishments regularly, and it's my pleasure and duty to partner with them to give back to our community by offering my services!

2010-08-27T08:52:00.001-07:00

Bad Cat Page-A-Day Calendar 2011 http://ping.fm/IUoOw

The Love of Community

2010-08-19T08:08:00.000-07:00

During my relatively brief occupancy on this earth, I have heard anecdotes that, during hard times, we tend to band together. This certainly isn't the first economic downturn in my lifetime, but I think most baby-boomers agree that it is the most severe in our generation's memory. Not to be nauseatingly Pollyanna-ish here, but surely it will get better someday. And, hopefully, the lessons we take away from it are growing pains of the post-World War II generation.

We've been an individualistic generation--for good, but also to an extreme. Remember, among others, sayings like, "Do your own thing?" "Finding oneself" is healthy, but sometimes I think we (me included) became a little too selfish and short-sighted. Building a global community (not hard with today's technology) is vital to humanity's survival, AND individual emotional and spiritual health.

Personally, my church community has been a large "food group" in my psychological nourishment. It has restored my sense of civic responsibility, and, frankly, made me feel more accountable on a daily basis. My last post was about the ACAC, and a joint drive to give needy children in "the system" basic school supplies. Every week, we have calls for donations of food and clothing items, and it's amazing how, even when finances are tight for many of us, we can spare something to give to the local food bank. The list goes on of the outreach projects of our church members, and many of us have our individual endeavors to help our fellow humans. It honors me to be in this group of like-minded citizens.

Last night, the City of Burbank held a class in a local library, in which composting, conservation of water and other resources, and drought-tolerant lawn alternatives were discussed. As I contemplated how I might make my own premises "greener," I looked around at a room that was filled to capacity, and seeing so many people interested in these topics filled me with hope and pride for our city.

Then, there's my private "circle." As I get older, I really cherish my friends, neighbors, and family all the more. It's my loving duty and privilege to offer my time, advice, and any material resources to those I can, building links of love and support that benefit me as well. I'm so grateful to you all for sharing my life.

As we sing in church each week,

"From you I receive, to you I give.
Together we share, and from this we live."

As this Great Recession wanes into history, let's not forget what we've gained from it. We said we were the "love generation;" let's make our legacy prove it.

2010-08-19T07:19:00.001-07:00

I wanted to let you all know about an outreach my church is conducting, and it will be ending on August 29. "Adopt a Child Abuse Caseworker" is an ongoing effort of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Studio City, and the church has been collecting basic school supplies for children unable to afford them. Can others out there help us in the final days of this drive? Contact the church through info@uustudiocity.org.

2010-08-13T09:10:00.001-07:00

I want to promote an enterprise of a good friend of mine. Nea, a really dynamite person, heads up a social group called Senior Moments -- and it's ANYTHING BUT "rocking chairs and shuffle board" time with this lady's activities. Check these out:
http://www.meetup.com/Senior-Moments
http://www.seniormomentsdate.com

Any tattooes on my midlife sisters?

2010-08-10T07:35:00.000-07:00

I'm a regular reader of the online journal, "Boomers Plugged In," and today I loved the article below by Neal Dranoff ("Done and Done," shown below at the end of my post). Historically, tattoos have been seen as the domain of old, salty military vets, or on the other end of the spectrum, the newest generation of rebels.

What about the women of my age bracket? I'd love to hear from you (keeping your identities secret, of course, if you want me to), and might even turn this into an article of my own. What prompted you to do this? Care to share your design(s)? Any regrets about getting tattooed--or desires to "ink on?" C'mon -- tell, tell!

Done and Done

RIP Patricia Neal

2010-08-09T22:48:00.000-07:00

We've just lost another strong woman legend of Hollywood. I personally was inspired by Ms. Neal's personal strength, that which saw her remarkably rally after the strokes that nearly killed her in 1965. On our black-and-white TV, we watched as she was given a thunderous standing ovation at the Academy Awards. Strokes, or CVA's (cerebral vascular accidents) were pretty much a death sentence--or at least, consigned one to permanent disability. Along with cancer, the risk of strokes has always been a dread of mine, unless I could prevail as Patricia Neal did.

I think back to the film classic "The Day the Earth Stood Still." Ms. Neal's understated performance was significant on many levels. In a day when women were largely assumed to be embodiments of the happy-housewife archetype, Ms. Neal played a courageous widowed mother, who served as a bridge between her world and that of Klaatu (Michael Rennie) to prevent worldwide annihilation. There was also, pre-Civil Rights Movement, suggestion of an implicit attraction between a lonely earth woman and an alien heart-throb--the ultimate interracial relationship. This film was produced in 1951, as the Cold War panic was escalating, and those we feared were not in space, but just across an ocean. To project our fear of nuclear war onto "space men" made it safe enough be Saturday matinee entertainment. And since we were 18 years from seeing the first moon landing, anything not firmly rooted to earth by gravity wasn't yet real.

So, my sincere tribute to this lady. May she be long remembered and serve as a role model for us all.

2010-08-02T15:17:00.001-07:00

I am now an affiliate of LifeBio.com, and offer the use of memory books as part of my service to seniors and their loved ones. Documenting their treasured memories helps seniors with their cognitive skills, boosts their mood and self-esteem by showcasing their life accomplishments, and can help bring the generations together with old-fashioned sharing and storytelling. See my "Goods and Services" page on my website, www.midlifecrisesrecovery.com.

Secrets to Americans Living Happily Below Their Means -- AARP Radio - Jeff Yeager

2010-07-22T08:47:00.000-07:00

When I "went independent" recently with my career path, I had to retool my lifestyle a bit. Guess what? It really works and I'm much happier. Check this out below:

Secrets to Americans Living Happily Below Their Means -- AARP Radio - Jeff Yeager

Have a great, truly contented day!

Death of friends in the senior years

2010-07-20T18:09:00.000-07:00

Bereavement counseling is quite prevalent, a needed sub-specialty of counseling, of course. There are some grief support groups (including spousal and child loss) in my area, although not as many as I think there ought to be. Then, especially connected with hospital settings, one can find a number of groups for those who have lost a baby or a pregnancy. And now, there are groups and therapists who work with those who have lost a beloved pet. All very necessary and commendable.

I wonder though, how much outreach is there for people whose longtime friends have passed away, especially when the deceased and the survivor are seniors? I'm thinking that, beyond the quick "Oh, I'm so sorry about your friend..." that there isn't much done to help the elderly person process their loss. After all, what do you expect? These folks are old, and old folks die someday. Surely they know that.

I was a case manager to home-bound, frail clients in Pasadena several years ago, and often saw seniors who were lonely and profoundly sad. When the subject came up about any social connections these seniors had, so often I heard, "All my friends are dead now." Their eyes would drift off, as if they could somehow make a U-turn down the road of life, and catch up with these old pals who were no longer making the journey with them. How many people, including me, were too busy to sit for awhile, and ask them to talk about these friendships, which, when gone, took a vital piece of our clients' lives with them?

My mother is now 85, and is one of the surviving members of a close, lifelong group of three friends. One of these ladies, who first met my mother when they were five years old, passed away suddenly about 18 months ago. It shocked my mother and the other friend, because they never imagined that "Betty would be the one to go first." In addition to being an unexpected and painful reminder of their own mortality, Betty's passing underscored how each of us occupies a unique position in others' psyches. When we are then permanently absent, it leaves our survivors with the task of making sense of the void. No more birthday cards or Christmas greetings exchanged, one less person who shares the web of memories that make up our consciousness...

Recently, Mom's other surviving buddy wrote a letter detailing some serious medical events, including a stay in intensive care. Now this once fiercely-independent lady has a visiting practitioner who comes in and assists her tasks with medication and bathing. Luckily, she still has friends (younger) who can do the shopping and transporting to follow-up appointments.

Mom has often expressed concern, as the span between their frequent, lively letters gets increasingly long. She has said, "At our age, it could be any time for either one of us." And, of course, Mom and I both know the "it" to which she is referring--the brief note from someone saying, "I think you're were a friend, and I'm sorry to tell you....". And that's assuming that "someone" does bother to write.

Bereavement is differentiated from depression in the DSM-IV-R (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the American Psychiatric Association)as an appropriate, expected expression of sadness upon the death of a loved one. If not acknowledged by the senior and any involved family, the mood can gradually worsen, and depression can set in, even mimicking mild dementia. For anyone who has been bereaved, you know that your thoughts can dwell upon the loss, impacting concentration as well as mood. If the relationship was less than smooth, the memories of the departed can become all the more complex and volatile.

I propose that those involved with any bereaved seniors test the waters...talk about the dead friend, if and when he or she is willing...look through scrapbooks or photo albums, if they're brought out. Ask about letters, shared classes, common interests, past decades of history...offer to take the senior to a burial site, if it's practical and appropriate to do so. It's risky, especially at first, to know the senior's readiness to engage in such a dialogue, but far better than not acknowledging the loss of someone important to them.

I'm concerned about my mom, especially if she survives this last friend. That's why I want to not be afraid to be there for her, nor do I want to avoid saying something for fear that it's "not the right time." Through any tears and the reminiscing she's willing to show, I'll use my instincts and compassion to let Mom show me parts of her life and her self that were represented by her friend. That's how healing and resolution for our seniors can take place, and we adult children become enriched by the experience.

In my private practice, I invite anyone grappling with the problem of how to support their senior loved ones with bereavement and the fear and depression that may follow. Dialogue is one the most basic means of healing, but it's amazing how much it is avoided. For further information about my services, please refer to www.midlifecrisesrecovery.com.

Check this out!

2010-07-17T11:25:00.000-07:00

In addition to my own thoughts, I'm always on the lookout for really energizing and inspiring things to share with whoever reads my blog. Here's a clip off a really wonderful video site:

Check out the Alzheimer’s Research Center site -146

2010-07-15T14:09:00.000-07:00

I urge anyone whose life, or that of a loved one, read this and weigh the pros and cons of joining a clinical trial for pharmaceutical intervention. This is an important piece of the solved puzzle.

Check out the Alzheimer’s Research Center site -146: "Check out the Alzheimer’s Research Center site - 146"

Check out the Alzheimer’s Research Center site -146

2010-07-15T13:56:00.000-07:00

I excited, as always, to pass this information along to my readers. We've got a long way to go, but we are far away from the days when patients were simply consigned to the sidelines of life and family, with symptoms dismissed as "craziness" or "senility." Check out the photos of the PET scans, which are showing us more of what we're dealing with.

Check out the Alzheimer’s Research Center site -146: "Check out the Alzheimer’s Research Center site - 146"

Of old houses and hope for our future

2010-07-14T20:59:00.000-07:00

I attended a meeting this evening at the Burbank City Hall Annex building, which was lightly attended in response to a mailer that had been sent to city residents within the past week.

Burbank adopted a Preservation Ordinance back in 1996, and its Plan was adopted three years later. We are approaching our city's centennial, and as a means of bolstering civic pride, the city is encouraging homeowners like me to explore the possibility of registering our residences for historic landmark status.

One of the homes featured in the power point presentation was the "Rock House" on Olive Avenue. It was built circa 1922, same year as mine. I've hit the ground running on this project, thinking that my little stucco abode might also be honored with a historic designation.

I love anything vintage, be it a wood frame house, a musty book, or an old baking soda tin. One of my favorite TV shows on HGTV has been, "If Walls Could Talk." For me, it's not really the recognition of the house being around a long time and surviving the wrecking ball. The emotional appeal is that these houses, like many people and ideas, have endured the succession of immediate crises and concerns of the decades. Who would have foreseen that the Rock House--and mine--would have come before a stock market crash, a depression, a world war, numerous presidents, and most of my family? I like to think of the workers who had their role in the construction of these houses, who they were personally, and what their own lives were like. Each historic structure that still stands is almost like a temporal reminder of those workers, and also the people who occupied them over the years. You can almost stop and hear the echoes of long-gone people in the creaking of the floor boards...

I have this acute sense of each point in our space-time construct having an eternal life of its own. Even after the people are gone, and also the physical structures, an indelible print is left on that point, changing it forever. Vintage properties are gifts from one point in time to another, almost like a bottle floating in the ocean with a note inside.

I really hope Burbank is successful in getting some homes designated as historic and preserved for the future. For one thing, having people taking pride and responsibility for the city's history is one way to foster a sense of ownership in the future. The kids of succeeding generations should know what a linen closet is, and a utility room, and see a bathroom that has those quaint, tiny octagonal floor tiles. These features shouldn't just be some overpriced restoration mock-ups. Anyone who doesn't get this experience, in my opinion, is the poorer for it.

When people see the "real things" from the past, those who lived before are also real once again.

A History of Burbank: A special place in history

A little life, lived grandly

2010-07-14T16:21:00.000-07:00

It's about realizing when I have all I need, and if I'm a good steward, I'll continue to be sustained.

Family. Friends. A roof over my head. Music on the radio. Ability to support myself. Hope for the future. Intelligence to know the difference between the incessant fear of lack and the sustained realization of enough.

Where are the likes of Thoreau these days?

Another thing to share with my boomer readers

2010-07-14T07:59:00.001-07:00

The following is from one of my new favorite sites, Boomer-Living.com:

Boomers: Coming of Age and Old Age http://ping.fm/nNAFE

I'd like to think of myself as assuming a mentor role to my peers, as we boomers age and make sense of this old-er age thing.

Have a great day.

Nonfiction Writing Classes, Psychology Tutor, Creativity Coaching & Memoir Writing Classes in Los Angeles, Glendale, Sherman Oaks & Burbank CA | Valarie Cascadden is a Betterist on Betterfly.

2010-07-14T00:27:00.000-07:00

From my Betterfly.com page:

Nonfiction Writing Classes, Psychology Tutor, Creativity Coaching & Memoir Writing Classes in Los Angeles, Glendale, Sherman Oaks & Burbank CA | Valarie Cascadden is a Betterist on Betterfly.

Depression may increase risk of dementia, study says

2010-07-13T09:09:00.000-07:00

One study for my readers' consideration:

Depression may increase risk of dementia, study says

Connecting the dots between my teaching, writing, and therapy

2010-07-13T07:40:00.000-07:00

I think I'm developing a bit of a side niche here, and I'd like my friends/readers to help in its development. As I've mentioned, I'm on Betterfly.com now, promoting services as a creative and academic coach. Primarily, but not exclusively, I want to help students of the "mature" demographic to write effective papers and dissertations.

Another inspiration I had recently was to assist people with letter-writing. This is a vital tool, both to express one's feelings when face-to-face contact is just too overwhelming, AND to communicate expectations in the business world. Anyone remember Cyrano de Bergerac's intercession between his unrequited love Roxane and her true love interest, Christian?

Letter-writing is powerful when the sentences and paragraphs are skillfully crafted; otherwise, a communique can just get deleted from the email inbox, or sadly shredded...and thus a piece of someone's soul goes unacknowledged. There are just too many messages floating around in our world of media overwhelm -- making your message heard and understood by that other person is vital!

The same care needs to be taken with business letters, be they complaint letters about unsatisfactory service. Over the years, I've crafted "bitching" to a fine art, so that it has impact, but maintains dignity!

The actual letter is just one step in the actual process, and I can coach people in how to navigate the steps to being heard. Stay tuned online to hear more about this service...

In my work with seniors and their families, I find that writing in the early stages of decline can be beneficial. We hear of people making video recordings of their thoughts, to be passed along to succeeding generations. Shortly after a dementia diagnosis, while the senior still has the physical and cognitive ability, writing down one's thoughts in a simple journal could benefit the patient AND the family who sees them slipping away. Again, I'll have more information I'll share with my readers in future posts.

Q&A!

2010-07-12T10:17:00.000-07:00

Q&A!

The A-Bomb

2010-07-09T11:04:00.000-07:00

I've had periodic insomnia since I was a teenager, and it's frustrating to stare at the red digital numbers of the clock tick by the minutes, excruciatingly slowly, even if it is to the sweet melodies of KUSC. So, I got up and did that previous post.

I also worked on a home-study course I'm completing for continuing education units (CEU's) for my license. Once I'm done (very soon), I'll be able to add CADODTS to the alphabet-soup of credentials after my name. This stands for Certified Alzheimer's Disease and Other Dementias Treatment Specialist. In plain English, I'll be better able to serve clients and families with whose lives Alzheimer's is interfering. Since I market myself as a psychotherapist specializing in work with the midlife and aging "baby-boom" population, this extra layer of expertise makes a lot of sense. Much of what I'll continue to do, besides my already-supportive counseling, is to help senior clients and families explore their process and demystify it through education. I already am well-connected to many senior service agencies and case workers, especially after working five years in Senior Care Network through Huntington Hospital.

I have some dramatic family history related to Alzheimer's. In 1996, my uncle died after a long struggle with the disease. He and my aunt had been married just a little over sixty years. Roger experienced much fear and depression in the first few years after the initial diagnosis. He had been a lawyer, a local judge, and ultimately a New York State Supreme Court Justice. Together, he and Sis had led a full life with children, grandchildren, an active social life, and getaways to a beach house they owned in Canada.

Roger saw what lie ahead, and the sense of powerlessness over its progress ran counter to his lifelong self-concept of intelligence and competence. Sis, the devoted wife, cared for Roger. She reluctantly placed Roger in a skilled nursing facility in the final days, when he became enraged and tried to strangle her. Sadly, the toll was not just taken on Roger; Sis soon died of a heart attack. The family said that she probably "worked herself to death taking care of him."

Roger died 48 hours later, unaware that his life companion was already gone...

As I told a friend recently, who said he had always tried to "fight off getting Alzheimer's," this disease does not discriminate. Even the most gifted, talented, and deserving of us are at risk -- and therein lies the cruelty of Alzheimer's. Among my favorite celebrities that come to mind are Rita Hayworth of old Hollywood films, and the beloved Star Trek character "Scottie," James Doohan.

Aas we baby-boomers age, we're next at risk. And frankly, I'm terrified--for myself, and for my loved ones who would be responsible for my care if I fell to the A-Bomb.

So you see, my mission to help in the cause of Alzheimer's research and treatment is as personal as it is professional. And once more, I put out the call for anyone who wants to join me on November 7th for the Memory Walk in Century City, check out my walker page at http://2010memorywalkla.kintera.org. Please feel free to type in my name to search for my walker page, and make whatever donation you feel inspired to and/or join my walking team!

Let's start conquering Alzheimer's in our lifetime!

What's up with me?

2010-07-09T02:10:00.000-07:00

People are seeing many sides of me on this blog site. It's astonishing, even to me, how many interests and passions are coming forth as I create this thing.

The MFT (marriage and family therapist) aspect emerged back in 1996, and after years of internship stints, I was licensed in 2005. I hung out my independent shingle in 2007, and have been building my practice, one client at a time, since.

My clients' care is very special and important to me. Restless soul that I am, however, it was never my intent to confine myself to private practice. Many of my most inspiring professors have had their own offices, bringing their rich anecdotes into the classroom and bring the theory alive. I wanted to follow in their footsteps, honoring their contributions to my own development. Thus, I embarked on my teaching career as an adjunct psychology professor at National University in 2008. As I stand behind the podium, I see myself in each of the students' faces, their expectations and plans echoing mine a decade and a half ago.

Writing has always been a yearning for me, with my article ideas demanding to be in relationship with me. The words and ideas take on lives and energy of their own. They mirror what has happened, as well as providing suggestions as to what might be next. Ideas are the genesis for yet more.

In addition to creating my own work, I've always enjoyed assisting classmates and friends with piecing together theirs. It's not just tutoring and editing, but also doing real healing work by releasing the blocks to their self-expression. That's why, on top of everything else I'm trying to do, I have become associated with the betterfly.com site. As each of us endeavors to tell his or her own story, it puts into place a piece of the human puzzle, and validates someone's soul.

On some level, the combination of all these roles makes sense.

It's very late, and I need some sleep. I just wanted to share some thoughts...

Join my walk on November 7th in Century City

2010-07-06T20:55:00.000-07:00

This cause is near and dear to my heart.

http://www.care2.com/go/z/e/AFYHa/zk4X/Ot1U

Long-Term Marriages End, Late-in-Life Divorce, Boomers, Separation, Pepper Schwartz -- AARP

2010-07-06T20:46:00.000-07:00

I actually think the "till death do us part" can be harmful, if it's seen as a sentence rather than a loving covenant. Marital strife, denied and unresolved, could also be yet another source of late-life depression.

Long-Term Marriages End, Late-in-Life Divorce, Boomers, Separation, Pepper Schwartz -- AARP

2010-07-06T07:55:00.001-07:00

From one end of the spectrum--lifelong joy--to unanticipated pain:

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

2010-07-06T07:40:00.001-07:00

I just couldn't start off the day without sharing this:

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Making peace with some of my exes

2010-07-05T09:09:00.000-07:00

So, here I go, into another post-holiday work week.

My kitty Tiggy is on my lap, my coffee is at my right hand, and the sounds of KUSC are wafting through my home office. Eventually, I'll put myself together and venture forth to see some clients, do some work-related errands, and then come back here to what I've come to think of as my "command center."

As you can guess, I like words--their origins, and how they are constructed. They can be masterfully woven into so many patterns, morphing fluidly, almost imperceptibly, like the subtle hues and undertones of an oil painting. In one's observation of the interplay, one can get swept up into it without even being aware...

Words take on lives of their own. Propaganda (social, religious, political), print ads, the conversations we have throughout our lives. Like the visual stimulus of the oil painting, each leaves its "thumbprint" on our psyche--positively or negatively. They carry what we therapists sometimes call "feeling-tones." If you remember the last time someone said something either really loving, or really hurtful, you can probably remember not only the words, the tone, but also the impact, both emotionally and physically.

That's why we therapists are concerned with issues like verbal abuse, or the systemic (and often dysfunctional) way couples or families communicate with each other. With each word, and its reaction from another person (think of Newton's third law of physics), reality is being created and built upon (word-by-word, one "brush stroke" at a time).

The same principle applies with our inner dialogues. It's so important to look at how we take care of ourselves by our inner messages. Let me share some:

The prefix "ex" is defined as "outside, or away from." When I hear this, my mind conjures up almost anime-like fonts and colors, harsh blood-red and black.

EX - cuse, EX - clude, EX - cess, EX - haust

Could these words might suggest that we spend much time putting our cognitive and emotional powers outside ourselves, to leave it up to others (like our families, coworkers, significiant others)how we react to our world? At any time in human history, this time most of all, such learned helpless is dangerous.

But--here's another "ex" -- ex - ist, "to have actual being." Some teachers would include this in their lessons about mindfulness.

My point is that we all have life-long relationships with these "exes," and still others. It's up to each of us to become conscious of them and form appropriate ways to deal with them.

We'll talk about this, and other things, more...

Have an aware day.

"The Secret Powers of Time"

2010-07-04T08:04:00.001-07:00

A wonderful thought from one of my favorite scholars, Philip Zimbardo:

http://ping.fm/s2aWQ

Shopping, etc., at 7 AM (or as early as you can)

2010-07-03T10:00:00.000-07:00

It's nice to beat the pre-Fourth of July crowds. True, it's a trade off, because instead of dodging people with carts full of beer and chips, you have to bob-and-weave around the crates and the the early morning crew stocking the shelves. The staff at the store today were pretty accommodating, and even said to me, "Just let us know if we're in the way."

I've always been an early riser, and I find it pays off in avoiding lines, waiting, and irritation. Patience has never been one of my major qualities, and I find trolling for parking around the ATM to be a major time-waster. Isn't it interesting that retired folks, or those with independent work schedules (like me)seem more likely to find the momentum to get up-and-at-'em before the 8 or 9 AM stampede? Far better to get home--or to your holiday destination--and let the rest of the town figure out which of the grocery lines are creeping along the "fastest."

As I hinted in my previous post, the universe doesn't graciously grant us time, nor do we happily "find" it. Running our lives like a business, we have to simply block it out, and take our appointments with ourselves (and our well-being) as seriously as we do the trips to the doctor or the office.

Again, enjoy the weekend! No -- savor it! That's my "assignment" to you all today.

Happy Independence Weekend to all!

2010-07-02T09:33:00.000-07:00

I've posted a couple of items that I liked. One was called "Learn How to Benefit from Play," and another was "Benefits of Being a Slow Study."

It's important that we budget time in our lives for down-time to have enough physical energy, and so that our minds function efficiently. Have you ever noticed, when you've pushed yourself beyond your normal capacity, how you find yourself making errors, getting irritable or emotionally fragile, forgetting pieces of data (names of those you know well, appointments, where you last put your keys, etc., etc.)

That's when it's time to stop and rest. Rest and recreation are not self-indulgent time intervals. In fact, the word "recreation" suggests "re-creation" or "re-building." It's NECESSARY -- so STOP being a martyred workaholic! It gets old -- for you and those close to you (how many times do they hear, "Oh God, I've got so much to do!"). So what? Think you're going to get some kind of medal when you've worked yourself into an early grave or medically-mandated leave?

Declare your independence from a no-win mindset and learn to TAKE TIME OFF. You may find you're more productive in the long run.

Mindful Teaching and Teaching Mindfulness: A Guide for Anyone Who Teaches Anything

Q&A!

2010-07-02T09:11:00.000-07:00

Q&A!

2010-07-02T09:09:00.000-07:00

Q&A!

2010-07-01T10:22:00.001-07:00

Synchronicity and convergence...I'm getting inspired to do another article/book because of the inputs I'm getting from colleagues and clients. In this piece, I'd like to explore the impacts of Alzheimer's on multi-generational relationships. Especially, I'd like to discuss young kids who have to care for a demented relative, and how that affects their own lives....

Oldest U.S. Postal Worker Retires at 95 - AARP Bulletin

2010-06-30T10:22:00.000-07:00

Oldest U.S. Postal Worker Retires at 95 - AARP Bulletin

Today's "school of life" class is in session.

2010-06-30T08:31:00.000-07:00

Life is fun. Life is learning (never-ending). Learning is fun, to keep our minds sharp and open to all the possibilities that are TODAY!Older Women, Younger Men: New Options for Love and Romance

Dating and the Older Man

Life on my own terms: It's only happened now, because I'm ready at last.

2010-06-29T06:50:00.000-07:00

Those of us who are old enough to remember Vietnam (the war, not the country), can recall the plethora of bumper stickers: "America: Love It or Leave It," or its irreverent counterpoint, "America: Fix It or F*** It," "Freedom is Not Free," etc., etc. And with each skirmish in which our nation has become involved, this theme has been echoed.

Security, national or personal, is an instinctive human quest. Freedom is actually the antithesis of security. It involves the sacrifice of those mindsets that make security compelling, but also dangerously limiting.

I've been reading articles about a not-insignificant number of people who are boldly stepping out into their own business and professional ventures right now, despite the collective hand-wringing over the economy. These folks--many baby-boomers like me--are making the conscious choice to "do their own thing." This catch-phrase of my generation has taken on new meaning for us. Instead of simply dancing in the park with "flowers in our hair," we are "leaving home" from the corporate world, which shielded us with steady (?) paychecks and "benefits," but also exacted heavy prices of work loads, treacherous office politics, freeway commutes, and encroachments into our personal time. We intrepid entrepenurial souls are "rebelling" from "the establishment" to grow up and dictate our own lives. No small feat.

Recently, I began wearing a pendant that shows a compass-face on one side, and an saying by Thoreau on the other. It reads: "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams." On my desk right now, I also see a paperweight a friend gave me. The saying on it says, "May you live every day of your life -- Jonathan Swift." These were real flesh-and-blood human beings, living before the luxuries of 401-k's and group managed health care plans. And yet they managed to carve out a philosophy and life plan that meant something once: independence that cost dearly, but fed their souls and freedom.

Harking back to the '60's bumper stickers, freedom on any level costs, often painfully. I recently left a four-day-a-week hospital position that included a check and some health benefits, but was, frankly, pulling my soul out of me. And now, I couldn't be happier.

I'm now budgeting time and money down to the minute and penny, but at least it's my time and my resources. Beholden to no one, I'm now capable of succeeding as I wasn't before . Unfettered, I can only see potential for my future. One slim little book I re-read recently has inspiration in its title alone, Prisons We Choose to Live Inside, by Doris Lessing.

As we approach the Independence Day holiday, maybe all of us--baby-boomers included--can reflect on where in our lives we are still "stuck," and make a realistic escape plan.

Benefit of slowing down as we get older....we can notice more, and even get smarter!

2010-06-26T09:10:00.000-07:00

The last items I have to share from last weekend in San Diego:

2010-06-25T21:39:00.001-07:00

In my never-ending quest to better my knowledge and skills, today I went to Clearview Women's Center for the seminar, "Treatment Strategies for Borderline Personality Disorder and Trauma." In addition to the DSM diagnosis of Trauma, I came away with a better sense about how we ALL are traumatized in numerous ways. That being said, it lends a new meaning depth to my practice tag-lines of "mid-life crises."

Some more things to share from my recent trip

2010-06-25T20:46:00.001-07:00

2010-06-23T21:51:00.001-07:00

I'm researching baby-boomers' search for long-term relationships through online dating. Here's the link to the survey. Please feel free to participate or pass along to someone who will:

Click here to take survey

"The Nine Myths of Aging"

2010-06-23T14:43:00.000-07:00

This is another handout Dr. Young gave us. Enjoy!

Some "show and tell" from last weekend's San Diego event

2010-06-23T14:30:00.000-07:00

This is front and back from one of the handouts Jonathan Young gave us in the "Invoking the Sage" class.

2010-06-20T10:18:00.001-07:00

I'm back from my "Invoking the Sage" conference. It was more than theoretical information; it was a profound experience that added richness and depth to my personal and professional journey. Jonathan Young of the Center for Story and Symbol is a powerful presenter, and I recommend his lectures to my colleagues. More on this a little later -- I'm still reflecting on all this.

2010-06-18T13:15:00.001-07:00

I'm on my way to San Diego for a couple of days of fun getaway and soul-nourishing learning. The teacher is Jonathan Young, PhD, of the Center for Story and Symbol. Tonight, the class is "Writing in Therapy" and tomorrow it's "Invoking the Sage," about aging. Hopefully, I'll bring back lots of good information to share.

Dr. Valarie C. Cascadden

Warning: Complacency Can Be Hazardous to Your Health

Transitions

Turning the Page to 2012

Some More "Show & Tell" Before 2011 Ends

Why Us Old Folks Need to Still Be Around

Des'ree - You Gotta Be |Lyrics|

Some Stuff I Resolved in 2011

Second in a Series: Workplace Bullying Involving Older Workers

Workplace Bullying Involving Older Workers: The first in a series

Laughing at the passage of time

"For now we see through a glass, darkly," of our future, or not?

The Girl Who Silenced The World For 5 Minutes

Nostalgia of hearth & home -- when homemakers were honored

Black Friday vs. The 3/50 Project -- holiday shopping reconsidered!

Shakespeare & Charlie Rose

Thoughts

My Personal List of Recommended Gift Books for the Holiday Season

The Brass Box, Google Satellite & Memories

Sleepless in Burbank & More Good Reads

C.G. Jung Institute of Los Angeles

More Recommended Reading -- Lighter Material

Recommended "Boomer Reading" for the Season

The Nostalgia Monster has Struck Again!

First follow-up, and my new exercise equipment!

Some Maintenance Due for a High-Mileage Chassis

WE are the Economy

Joining a fight that isn't (at least now) too personal

Comforting anchors, as considered this October 1st

I was a social worker in another life, so here are some things for your consideration

The AARP Life @ 50+ Convention in Los Angeles--or as I say, "Age be damned!"

Thoughts for Labor Day, 2011

An Unexpected Sunday Gift

Of course, the "end" is near...

RIP & Happy Anniversary

Spring Renewal 2011

Souvenirs in Concrete

Discovering MARC at UCLA

When To Tell The Whole, Ugly Truth

For-Profit Higher Education -- My Thoughts

How Facebook Salvaged Christmas for Me

Another way to find me! At your service...

Obama signs small business bill

Something touching as I listen to "Soul Music" on KUSC 91.5 FM

Wisdom of the "Common Man"

Back to Small

Something I found this AM...just something to keep in mind for us or those we love

Los Angeles County child welfare official falsified death reports, two employees claim - latimes.com

Beware the desire for a "savior"

Why we need Betty White -- and Beth Weems Pirtle

The Love of Community

Any tattooes on my midlife sisters?

RIP Patricia Neal

Secrets to Americans Living Happily Below Their Means -- AARP Radio - Jeff Yeager

Death of friends in the senior years

Check this out!

Check out the Alzheimer’s Research Center site -146

Check out the Alzheimer’s Research Center site -146

Of old houses and hope for our future

A little life, lived grandly

Another thing to share with my boomer readers

Nonfiction Writing Classes, Psychology Tutor, Creativity Coaching & Memoir Writing Classes in Los Angeles, Glendale, Sherman Oaks & Burbank CA | Valarie Cascadden is a Betterist on Betterfly.

Depression may increase risk of dementia, study says

Connecting the dots between my teaching, writing, and therapy

Q&A!

Recommended reading

The A-Bomb

What's up with me?

Join my walk on November 7th in Century City

Long-Term Marriages End, Late-in-Life Divorce, Boomers, Separation, Pepper Schwartz -- AARP

Making peace with some of my exes

"The Secret Powers of Time"

Shopping, etc., at 7 AM (or as early as you can)

Happy Independence Weekend to all!

Q&A!

Q&A!

Oldest U.S. Postal Worker Retires at 95 - AARP Bulletin

Today's "school of life" class is in session.

Life on my own terms: It's only happened now, because I'm ready at last.

Benefit of slowing down as we get older....we can notice more, and even get smarter!