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Therapist's Manifesto
July 2016
Trumpism is an ideology, not an individual, and it may well endure and grow after the Presidential election even if Donald Trump is defeated. (Variants can be seen all over Europe.) Trumpism is a set of ideas about public life and a set of public practices characterized by:
The statement was written by William Doherty, a professor of family social services at the Univ. of Minnesota. And has been signed by 2300+ clinical psychologists, psychiatrists, CSWs, and other mental health professionals. They know a man with a personality disorder when they see him.
Just something to read and think about.
Posted at 02:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
One of the most damaging ‘dirty little secrets’ of "Blended Families" is the unrealistic expectation that there will be a seamless “blending.’ These expectations are a set-up for hurtful misunderstandings and disappointments.
Feelings get hurt. Someone feels rejected and takes something personally. And these hurts can lead to anger and resentment, taking up so much space in the relationship, there is barely any room available for connection.
Too often, when unrealistic expectations about easy, seamless blending occur, my image is of family members throwing everything into a blender and being surprised when the result often causes a breakdown in communication and makes a mess.
One of my most popular speaking programs is ‘Grandma Passes Down More Than Just Her China’ describing how family ‘ways’ get passed down through the generations. These infused ways are, of course, what newly forming families have to recognize, identify and learn to navigate.
As a family therapist I love to be able to work with a newly forming family addressing the complexities of situations that might arise: different styles of thinking and being, rules of each family regarding mealtime routines, dinner table behaviors, bedtime routines, private time, use of devices, homework practices, chore responsibilities, gift-giving expectations, feelings about what behavior is respectful and what is disrespectful, and what their cultural, ethnic and gender influences might be. In other words, Grandma’s ‘ways.’
I help these families communicate directly and clearly their needs and hopes to each other. We talk about what their expectations have been, any unmet expectations, and accompanying disappointment. Putting words to these feelings can help avoid hurt feelings and misunderstandings.
Our family work includes helping them navigate ways to develop respect for each other's ‘styles’ and overcoming the loyalty and betrayal barriers that have rarely been identified and examined before we talk together.
I don’t love the term stepfamily, but I use it. Usually I ask my clients what term they prefer, and if they like ‘blended’ I just throw in the caveat about expectations and disappointments.
For myself, I think I’ll stick with the term ’newly-formed.’
Posted at 11:10 AM in Communication, Family, Intimacy, Rejection, Respect, Taking Things Personally | Permalink | Comments (0)
By Elayne Savage, PhD
I don't remember much about my high school years. I was pretty much a mess after my mother and grandmother died. I went through the motions of classes, friends, activities. And yet each day was a re-creation of the blur of the day before.
I felt alone and adrift and afraid.
Through the haze of those years I do remember occasionally people tried to reach out. I always pushed them away.
There was one person who stands out in her efforts to reach me. My Omaha Central High School junior year English teacher, Marcia Blacker.
I guess I was pretty disruptive in her class. Whispering to classmates, blurting out without raising my hand. All the acting out was mostly to get attention.
"I Want to Have a Talk with You"
"Please stay after class," she said one day. "I want to have a talk with you." Groan. I plunked my belligerent self down in the chair next to her desk, expecting to be chewed out.
But there was no lecture. Instead she asked, "Is everything OK at home? Is anything wrong?" I was speechless.
In fact, there was a lot wrong at home. But I couldn't bring myself to tell her about how miserable I was. How I was trying hold things together for my dad and my younger brother. How my dad sold his business and took a job traveling the state. How he hired a housekeeper to take care of us. How she would fly into a rage and bounce me from one wall to wall in the basement.
But somehow Marcia Blacker noticed something might have been amiss. She was the only adult who thought to ask me about what could be wrong.
The Creation of "Anna Franklin"
And another first: Marcia Blacker was the first person to encourage my writing. She entered one of my class stories in a city-wide contest. The story was about a child in an orphanage who yearned to be adopted.
According to the rules of the contest, she assigned a pseudonym for judging purposes. To this day, whenever I have to think fast to come up with an alias, I use the name she assigned me, "Anna Franklin"
I remembered her kindnesses – and her love for Edgar Allan Poe. Yet, it was decades later before I fully understood how special this teacher was.
Permission to Act "Crazy" for a Day
When I was working on a PhD in Family Psychology, my 'Understanding Schizophrenia' course included spending the day on the grounds of a retreat. Lots of open space and grass and trees and fresh air.
We paired off and were to alternate with our partner in playing two roles: 'the patient' who could act crazy and do or say anything we wanted and the 'keeper' who made sure the 'patient' stayed safe.
The instructor, a Berkeley psychiatrist, was always nearby to keep an eye on things. To begin he passed out blank name tags, instructing us to choose a fictional name and age. I found myself writing "Marcia – age 15."
For the next couple of hours, I was 15 year old "Marcia," experiencing overpowering adolescent emotions and scary thoughts. I was surprised how quickly I got to that dark place.
Later that night when I was writing up my experience, it began to making sense. I realized why I chose age 15. That's when I was struggling to hold things together. Looking back, I realized for the first time I was probably on the brink of breaking down.
Where did the name "Marcia" come from? And why did I spell it that way? Then I understood. I chose the name of my junior year high school English teacher. Marcia Blacker. Isn't it amazing how the unconscious works! And I trusted myself to listen.
Searching For Marcia Blacker – and For Myself
I knew I needed to find her, but where to start?
I conferred with my instructor, the psychiatrist. He encouraged me to recall whatever details I could. Luckily I remembered her husband was in medical school when she was teaching. I knew his name because years earlier he was a camp counselor. My instructor suggested he'd be easy to find because he was a physician.
When I located him in Texas he connected me with her. She was living in Lexington, KY. I made a recording of my memories of those high school days. I told her how grateful I was for her concern. As I tried to describe my state of mind back then, I had to keep flipping off the tape recorder because I couldn't stop crying.
I had two burning questions for her. First, what prompted her to ask whether everything was OK at home? I needed to know what she might have noticed that led her to ask me about my life at home. Next I wanted to know what she remembered about me.
Clearly I had not only been searching for Marcia Blacker, but for myself as well. I was hoping for some answers to help fill in the blanks in my memory.
I was disappointed she didn't remember more about what led up to that after-class conversation. Interesting how Marcia and I have different memories of what happened that day in her classroom.
She remembers me “as a bright student." She can still see me – sitting next to her desk in my cheerleading outfit – white skirt, white sweater and purple 'C.'
"As I recall, I asked you to stay after class because I thought your "misbehavior" was so unusual there might be something wrong . . . I don't remember thinking it was necessarily a problem at home. I might have even thought you had a problem with me." I immediately jumped to thinking she was wondering if there was something wrong at home.
True, she didn't remember as much about me as I had hoped she would. However seeking and finding her was the beginning of our incredible long-time friendship.
When her son, educator Dr. David Blacker, published a book for aspiring teachers, he included the transcript of the tape I sent her. Thank goodness the tears were edited out. I didn't want anyone to see me so vulnerable.
Clearly Marcia Blacker has had an amazing influence on her students. David collected some of these stories for his book, Dying to Teach: The Educator's Search for Immortality.
Back in those days at Central High I was a kid and Marcia Blacker was a grown up. When I was in her English class she was freshly out of teacher’s college. Years later I loved discovering there were only a few years difference in our ages.True, she didn't remember me the way I had hoped she would, however seeking and finding her was the beginning of our incredible long-time friendship.
Can you imagine what a thrill it was when I was giving a book talk in Louisville, KY and she drove in from Lexington to hear me speak!
The best part was introducing her to the audience as " I’d like you to meet my high school English teacher, Marcia Blacker, the first person to believe in my ability to write!”
© Elayne Savage, PhD
Posted at 10:46 AM in Gratitude, Grief, Teachers and Mentors | Permalink | Comments (0)
By Elayne Savage, Ph.D.
It happens so fast. All it takes is a wilting look, an insulting tone of voice, or a raised eyebrow. You find yourself taking it personally and your knee-jerk response seems all out of proportion to the event itself. You wonder, "Where on earth did that come from?"
When we take things personally we perceive someone's actions as a personal affront, an insult or slight. Someone says or does something (or neglects to say or do something) and we find ourselves getting triggered and overreacting.
Taking things personally involves:
When we take something personally we're feeling rejected in some way.
This rejection is most likely connected with feeling "dissed" - discounted, disdained, disapproved of, disbelieved, dismissed, or disregarded. These feelings come from early experiences with peers, teachers, siblings, parents or other family members, and they replay many times in our work or personal relationships.
How can we not take things so personally?
First, create enough distance to slow your overreaction. Taking a "time out" works great. Counting to ten and breathing slowly is one kind of "time out. Excusing yourself to get a drink of water is another.
Next, become aware of the rejection aspects -this includes judgements and criticism. It's a lot easier to change behavior when you're aware of it and it's no longer a "blind spot." By recognizing signs of rejection and noticing how you react to it, you're taking the first steps in giving yourself some distance.
Ask yourself:
"Might I be taking this personally?"
"What part of me is feeling rejected, judged or criticized? "
"What am I telling myself?"
"Is this an old message? "
"Where might it come from? "
Then, walk alongside yourself: What do you notice about your reactions? This "naming" and "noticing" opens up space for making choices about how you want to deal with rejection. You don't have to continue down the same path once you realize how you got there. You can learn to choose to back up to that fork in the road and change direction.
Finally, try to put yourself in the other person's shoes. If you can get out of the center of your own orbit, you won't feel so much like a target. And in most instances, whatever was said or done says more about the other person and their fears than it does about you!
Don't be tempted to guess what the other person might have meant, because you really can't read their mind. Ask them if your perception of what they said is what they meant. Then you don't have to dwell on trying to figure it out. It will save lots of energy.
Ten sure-fire ways to avoid rejection
© Elayne Savage, PhD
Posted at 04:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
By Elayne Savage, PhD
A driver comes from out of nowhere, slows down to a crawl, cuts you off, tailgates, or flashes their lights.
It feels like an invasion of your personal space. Words or obscene gestures are exchanged, It starts getting out of hand. Before you know it you’re becoming outraged, then enraged, then road raged.
Raging on the road is an overreaction to feeling wronged, slighted, or intruded on. Our personal space feels invaded. Before we know it, we’re feeling “dissed.” Next we are taking it personally and retaliating. One minute we feel like a victim. And then we become victimizer.
Feeling “dissed” pops up in a multitude of makes and models. Feeling “dissed” means feeling disrespected, of course. But do you know there are dozens of “words beginning with “dis” that describe feeling rejected in some way.
Being “dissed might mean feeling “disrespected”, “dismissed,” “displaced,” “discredited,” “disregarded,” “discarded,” ”disposable,” ”dishonored,” or ”disenfranchised.” When you consider the intense emotions evoked, no wonder anger rises to the surface so quickly. Before you know it, the rage builds up. Road rage has the same intensity as all other kinds of rages. AND it comes equipped with a built in weapon — your car.
My definition of rage is “anger with a history.” Rage is an emotion far beyond anger. Anger relates to something happening in the present and reflects “now” feelings. By contrast, rage arises from overwhelming, often unbearable feelings from the past. It is attached to our childhood history or life experiences.
A distressing event in the present becomes unbearable when it reminds us of painful experiences from the past. Before we know it, an out-of-control reaction gets triggered. Old injustices stockpile into a repository of rage, just waiting to be disgorged. And once expelled, it contaminates our surroundings.
By considering rage in a larger context, we can gain some perspective. Then we don’t have to feel so helpless in the face of our reaction.
Let’s take a look at how road rage may reflect past injustices. Do you recall all those times you were hurt by others’ insensitive behavior? The times you endured being “cut off,” “squeezed out,” "ignored," “kept waiting,” “pushed around,” “bumped” or “edged out.” When a similar experience is recreated in the present, that old stockpile of hurts ignites. We overreact. It’s easy to become enraged.
By recognizing the appearance of these metaphors we can better understand road rage. For example, how might you react when a driver suddenly drifts into your lane without a warning or signal? Does it feel like an invasion of your personal space? Does it offend your sensibilities? Do you fume? Do you want to retaliate?
Often the incident triggers a not-so-pleasant childhood memory. Suddenly you find yourself back in grade school, remembering how the class bully used to taunt you, or push in front of you in the lunch line. You probably hated that feeling of helplessness. Maybe you yearned to defend your territory but didn’t know how. Maybe you still cringe at the indignity of feeling victimized.
Now, on the road, that clueless person cuts in front of you and those old feelings get triggered. Revenge fantasies appear out of nowhere, “Boy, are they going to be sorry.”
It is amazing what the cloak of anonymity of the car can do. Before you know it you are turning into the bully you detest. But when you think about it, bullies are not really feeling very powerful. Under that aggressive exterior is usually a scared, hurting, ineffectual person.
When we feel vulnerable, we tend to protect ourselves by taking a tough stance. We engage in rageful or bullying behavior. We puff ourselves up. We act out our rage on the offending driver who doesn’t understand that we are retaliating against all the bullies from our childhood. We may even seek out an unsuspecting person to bully back.
It happens so fast — something gets triggered and we lose control. We get confused and can’t sort out or feelings. Before we know it, we’re behaving badly. How can this be happening? We see ourselves as kind and considerate. How can we be behaving so outrageously on the road?
But, then again, our behavior may merely be a reflection of the outrageous times in which we live. We have to learn to live with it, but we also have to learn to control it.
TIPS FOR DEALING WITH ROAD RAGE
• If you are being raged at on the road, don’t bite the bait, don’t engage. A confrontation is only going to be a lose-lose situation for you. You might get hur
• The next time someone cuts you off, remind yourself there’s a difference between an aggressive driver and an inconsiderate or careless driver.
• Put the incident in perspective by remembering the metaphor theory. Ask yourself what old feelings this incident is re-creating for you.
• Take a breather. Ten slow breaths can work wonders to reduce stress.
• Most importantly, don’t take it personally! Chances are the other driver’s careless mistakes are not directed at you.
If you find yourself dwelling on what happened on the road, you may also discover it gets carried into your personal relationships and affects your concentration and productivity at work. Giving rage that kind of power could ruin your whole day or maybe even your week!
© Elayne Savage, PhD
Posted at 04:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
By Elayne Savage, PhD
Most of us would agree that mutual respect is essential to building relationships – both work and personal.
If you sense someone isn’t respecting you, you’re receiving (and likely responsively giving out) a message of pushing away or rejection, rather than a message of receptivity or acceptance.
Nonacceptance feels like disrespect, which brings up a myriad of rejection issues.
In other words, feeling rejected usually means feeling "dissed."
Here is my "Diss List"
What other 'diss' words can you think of?
Posted at 02:52 PM in Communication, Disrespect, Rejection, Respect | Permalink | Comments (0)
Tags: acceptance, disrespect, dissing, relationship building, respect
By Elayne Savage, PhD
Personal boundaries are about space: physical, mental and emotional. Having good personal boundaries means knowing where you stop and the other person begins. It means not confusing your own feelings and ideas with those of someone else.
Personal boundaries are about respect: respecting your own space and the space of others. This includes honoring each others differences of style, needs, feelings thoughts, ideas and values . . . and not feeling threatened by them.
The following list of personal boundaries is based on writings of authors John and Linda Friel:
Physical boundaries mean respect for physical space for yourself and others. These boundaries are violated when someone uses your stuff without asking or when someone touches you inappropriately, or pushes or hits you.
Intellectual boundaries mean respect for ideas or thoughts for yourself and others. These boundaries are violated when someone tries to discount your thoughts, saying things like, “You’re imagining it” or “You don’t really think that, do you?”
Emotional boundaries involve respect for feelings. These boundaries are violated when someone tries to invalidate or ignore your feelings, takes you for granted, criticizes, belittles or shames you.
Money boundaries involve how we earn it, spend it, save it, and how much you need to feel a sense of security. These boundaries are violated when someone makes judgments about how much money you have or don’t have and whether this makes you a good person. Bragging about money and spending is a transgression of these boundaries.
Social boundaries means a respect for our choices of social contact. They’re violated when someone criticizes who you choose to be with or where you choose to go.
Time boundaries means having respect for your own and others’ ways of getting things done. Some of us operate on time for meetings or completing projects. Others meet our deadlines, but “under the wire,”
Sexual boundaries are about the right to privacy. No one can touch you without your permission. Staring and leering are also a transgression of sexual boundaries.
I would add to this list:
Ethical boundaries are a set of principles for the purpose of guiding decision making, behavior and professional integrity. Many businesses, organizations and professional associations have a Code of Ethics and Conduct.
Boundary Confusion Abounds
Some folks see things as black and white, good and bad, right and wrong. They have a tendency to make other people bad and wrong. This is a common form of boundary confusion.
Some view others as extensions of themselves. They assume other people think the same, have the same feelings, or play by the same rules, In other words, they are unable to appreciate others as separate, This can lead to inappropriate, intrusive and controlling behavior. This, too, is a common form of boundary confusion.
Folks who have a high need for appreciation, often push the limits of boundaries in order to get the praise and attention they crave. To call attention to themselves, some may even appear to push another person into over-reacting. You may recognize this as bullying behavior.
In our early years many developed a facade because we believed we were expected to think or behave in a certain way. So we ended up losing our true self.
A consultation client offers this description of the ‘false front’ he developed as a child. “I couldn’t be myself in my family, and now as an adult I hardly know what’s underneath anymore.”
Yes and No
Learning to say “yes” and “no” defines who you are in the moment — and what you stand for. In fact, these words are great boundary setters.
The trouble is many of us did not have very good modeling of boundaries
in childhood. We had no idea how to define what we stood for or what we needed. In fact, in many families, defining things was discouraged, or even forbidden. Instead, things had to be vague, cloudy, amorphous. Family members played guessing games with each other because being specific was simply not okay. And what could be more specific then learning to say “yes” and “no” loudly and clearly?
Too often we learned to say “yes” when we really meant “no” and we learned to say “no” when we wanted to say “yes.”
When Ginny, a college student, asked her therapist if she could interview him for a class assignment regarding his specialty, he said, “No, I am not able to do that because of my limited time.” Then he added, “My having to say ‘no’ has nothing to do with you, it is only about my time limitations.” Because he was sensitive to Ginny’s issues with rejection, she did not take his “no” personally. She understood that “no” is not a rejection, it’s only a limitation. In fact, it’s one of the best ways to define boundaries.
Some people have a hard time saying “no” because they are afraid they won’t be liked and are afraid of being rejected. In fact, they’re easy to get along with because they say “yes” a lot. Other people have difficulty saying “no” because they have a hard time hearing it from others. If someone says “no” to them, they hear it as a rejection and take it personally.
They’re afraid of hurting the feelings of others the same way they’re afraid their own feelings might be hurt. So instead, they become indecisive, wishy-washy.
Psychoanalyst Alice Miller in Thou Shalt Not Be Aware, states “someone who cannot say no at the decisive moments of life, loses authenticity.” She’s talking about our friend from chapter 4, “Don Juan, the Seducer.”
Remember how “Don’s” mother needed him to be dependent on her and rewarded him for his dependence? It wasn’t okay to be himself because she might be upset with him. He wasn’t able to say to her, “I am your child, but you have no right to my whole being and my whole life.” “Don” still has trouble saying no as an adult, and it gets him into a lot of trouble in his relationships.
In spite of how you grew up, you can learn to say “no” to someone clearly and definitively. You no longer have to pretend to go along with an idea or plan for fear of hurting someone’s feelings, possibly hurting the relationship, or losing the love of that person. A woman I know needs a constant reminder that it’s okay to say “no,” so she hand-lettered a sign for her office: “NO. is a complete sentence."
One of the best ways to set clear boundaries is to learn to clearly say “yes” and “no.” It seems to me that when someone asks you to do something, you can answer in one of four ways:
* “Yes, I can do that.”
* “No, I can’t do that.”
* “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”
* “I can’t do that, but this is what I can do.”
With some practice, you will soon be able to learn to assess a situation without feeling rushed into a “yes” or “no.” You will also, with practice, learn to give the appropriate response.
Claudia Black, in Repeat After Me, has some excellent exercises for practicing saying “yes” and “no.” She suggests asking yourself some of the following questions:
* What do I hear when someone says “no” to me?
* What do I feel when someone says “no” to me?
* How did my mom say “no” to me?
* How did my dad say “no” to me?
* Have any “nos” in my life made me angry?
* When I say “no,” I feel______________.
* Now try asking yourself these same questions about saying “yes.”
If you want to practice saying “yes” or “no,” practice with another person. Maintain a comfortable distance from the other person, look the person in the eye, and loudly and clearly say “yes” or “no.” Now try it a little louder.
By the way, “no” can take other forms as well. A young woman I know has found a phrase that works for her: “Stop. This is uncomfortable for me.”
Blind Spots and Projection – Spreading the Garbage Around
You may be aware Projection is often one of the most confusing boundary difficulties in both business and personal relationships.
Projection happens when we cannot acknowledge certain unacceptable aspects of ourselves, and we mistakenly imagine that thought or feeling exists in the other person. Because these parts make us uncomfortable they stay hidden from us ––Carl Jung called these parts the shadow—the dark part, the part we wish wasn’t there.
When these undesirable thoughts or feelings intrude we often get anxious. Projection is an unconscious way of protecting ourselves from this anxiety. It is a way of dealing with feelings we cannot co me to terms with. Projection means disowning, rejecting unacceptable traits in ourselves and perceiving these same traits in another person or group.
In other words, we may find ourselves accusing them of the same types of behaviors that we find incompatible with how we need to see ourselves.
A coaching client sums it up pretty well, “When we can’t own our own stuff, we try to give it away. I guess you could say that projection protects us from ourselves by spreading the garbage around.
5 Ideas for Navigating Through Boundary Confusion
- Figure out where you stop and the other person begins.
- Know that you exist separately and distinctly from other people, with different feelings, ideas and needs.
- Learn to say “yes” and “no” loudly and clearly.
- Practice putting yourself in the other person’s shoes and understanding what their worldview is in the moment.
- Remind yourself another person’s words or actions are often about that person and that person’s history, and not about you. Can you choose not to take it personally?
© Elayne Savage, PhD
Adapted from Don’t Take It Personally! The Art of Dealing with Rejection and Breathing Room-Creating Space to Be a Couple
You'll find more on blogs on this topic at www.TipsFromTheQueenOfRejection.com under 'Personal Boundaries' in the Archives.
Posted at 12:22 PM in Communication, Peronal Boundaries, Respect | Permalink | Comments (0)
Tags: Alice Miller, Claudia Black, John and Linda Friel, personal boundaries, psychological projection
By Elayne Savage, PhD
If our impressions are discounted often, we learn to discount ourselves as well.
Sometimes we begin to doubt our own perceptions and stop trusting ourselves.
When I was recently invited to a fifties party I started reminiscing about a felt poodle circle skirt I once owned in junior high school.
I asked my dad if I could buy one, but he said we couldn’t afford it. So I made myself a poodle skirt.
I bought an inexpensive, plain felt skirt (pink, of course) and made a wonderful fluffy gray poodle to stitch onto it. I painstakingly made little individual loops of gray yarn for the ears, chest, and tail. Then I made a rhinestone collar and gold leash. I was really proud of that skirt—it looked as good as the ones in the stores – maybe better!
I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. My aunt asked me where I bought my poodle skirt because she wanted to buy one for my cousin.
When I told her I made the poodle, she told me I was lying, that I couldn’t possibly have made it. I got really confused. I actually began to doubt if I did indeed make the poodle. After all, she spoke with so much authority when she told me I was lying that I believed her.
Over the years, I’d continue to distrust my impressions of things. There were times I was attending a play I didn’t especially like, and I’d overhear someone during intermission talk about how terrific the play was. I’d immediately figured I was wrong and they were right.
Do you ever remember when you were little and going up to your mother or father when they looked upset, and asking, “Are you sad?” Did your mother or father quickly tell you, “No, I’m just thinking about something.” You’re pretty sure you saw a sad look on their face, but they were telling you, “You’re imagining it.”
Denials and Discounting and Mystification
Perhaps some of you grew up with these kinds of denials as well: "That didn't happen. You must have made it up." "I didn't say that." You really didn't have a nightmare, you're just imagining it."
I grew up getting really confused about things like that. I began not to trust my intuition. I began not to trust my feelings. I began to regard my own senses as unreliable guides. I no longer could trust myself. I didn’t know what was real; I hardly dared to ask. If I risked stating how I felt, my father would respond, “You must be kidding.” I perceived the underlying message to be, “Are you crazy?”
Sometimes when I asked questions I was given whatever information was handy at the time, whether it was true or not. I felt I was a bother for being inquisitive. Years later, I had a supervisor who would give me misinformation when he didn’t know the answer to something because he didn’t want to ask his superior. I overreacted and blew up at him. Yes, I took it personally, but I can see now how my reaction was triggered from my early experiences.
Some of us grew up in families where you ask a question but never get a straight answer. There is no definition. The subject gets changed, the issue gets skirted, and we are left feeling rejected, dismissed and ignored.
When your feelings and perceptions are being discounted in so many ways, it is hard to be true to yourself, so in effect you are rejecting yourself.
Scottish psychiatrist, R.D. Laing calls this 'Mystification' . . . an attempt to "befuddle, cloud, obscure, mask" what is really going on.
Interestingly, Laing's article begins with: "You can fool some of the people some of the time . . ."
Connected to mystification is obfuscation - the concealment of meaning in communication, making it ambiguous, confusing and hard to interpret.
You can find R.D. Laing’s ideas on Mystification in this academic article
http://www.laingsociety.org/biblio/mystification.htm
© Elayne Savage, PhD
Adapted from Don't Take It Personally! The Art of Dealing with Rejection
Posted at 01:21 PM in Rejection, Self-rejection | Permalink | Comments (0)
By Elayne Savage, PhD
I've been thinking a lot lately about growing up in DC. Especially time spent at my grandmother's corner market at 7th and L, S.E.
I think of my grandma as the Trading Post Lady of 7th and L Streets – a couple of blocks from the Navy Yard in DC.
I think of myself as growing up in two neighborhoods. On weekdays I was a white kid in brick row house in NE. Yep, it was mostly white and Jewish. On weekends, I was a white kid in a mostly black neighborhood in SE
I remember my NE neighborhood being abuzz when actress/singer Pearl Bailey bought a house a few blocks away from my row house. Walking to school I'd peer in the windows to try to catch a glimpse of her. Never did though, so maybe it was only a rumor.
My Other Neighborhood
I spent Fridays and Saturdays in my other neighborhood. My grandmother lived above her corner grocery store at 7th and L Streets, SE. Directly across from the back of the Navy Yard Streetcar Barn. Built in the late 1800's, the building was about a full city block. The street cars entered on M street, were serviced or repaired and exited on L street. They were a daily part of our experience at the market.
Raskin's grocery market, 7th and L Streets SE, DC
My dad and uncle worked in the store with Grandma so my brother Lee and I spent a lot of time there.
A few officers from the DC Metro Police would stop in the store for an ice cold five-cent Coke and a kosher dill from the pickle barrel. Sometimes they would drive Lee around the block in a 'paddy wagon' with the siren on. Lee loved it.
Whenever I see the Marine Band on TV, my memory does a back flip to 1950. Our dad would take us to watch the band practice in front of the Marine Barracks, just a few blocks from the store.
When I wasn't eating up the candy profits, I was playing hopscotch on chalked off squares and skipping rope with kids on the block. In both of my neighborhoods, black and white, the games we played and friendships we made were pretty much the same.
Playing up the street from Raskin's Market
Friday Night Dinners – Eating in Two Shifts
Every Friday afternoon we'd travel across town to Grandma's house for Shabbat dinner. We entered her first floor kitchen to the delicious smells of matzoh ball soup, brisket, roast chicken and just-baked kugel. If we all showed up, we totaled 15. Too many for one table, so we ate in two shifts.
About the time the second shift was finishing up, there'd usually be loud pounding on Grandma’s front door. "Miz Raskin, Miz Raskin, call the police. There's been a stabbing."
For years I would wonder, "Why do they always seek out my grandma?" Finally I figured it out. She had the only telephone in the neighborhood!
And where was my grandfather? He died long before I was born. Everyone told some pretty weird stories about him though. My favorite is about him bootlegging whiskey to some Congress folk during prohibition. It ended when someone tipped off the revenuers. When they arrived they found him hiding under the coal pile in the yard. But maybe it was just a story.
So, with the help of two of her sons, Mike and Henry, Grandma continued to live upstairs and run the grocery business. She was one tough and determined lady even though she only stood 4'9''.
Trading Post and Listening Post
I think of my grandma as 'The Trading Post Lady' of 7th and L.
The market was also a 'listening post.' Neighbors could catch up on the happenings and gossip. But if there was trouble on the street, someone would send a runner to the store. Day or night.
I felt pretty safe on the sidewalks at 7th and L. Grandma's neighbors looked after us because she and her sons took care of them. They made sure no one went hungry during the depression. And extended credit when someone fell on hard times.
Russian immigrant Sarah Raskin and her 7th and L Market were woven into the fabric of the neighborhood. There was mutual respect and regard.
Sure, there was the occasional shoplifting of a can of pork and beans. But get this: no one ever tried to rob the store. Not ever.
I moved away from DC when I was nine. Over the years I guess I assumed the store had been torn down as the neighborhood was built up. Imagine my surprise to learn it's still standing on the corner of 7th and L, surrounded by the renaissance of SE Washington.
The old Streetcar Barn is now painted bright blue and called ‘Blue Castle.’ Plans are underway for condo development.
Lee and I visited the market a few years ago. It looks pretty much the same. I was amazed at how tiny it is now! And there's a bullet-proof check cashing booth off the doorway. I guess times have changed.
Recent photo by Lenny Raskin and Rick Raskin
These days the market is owned by a recently immigrated Korean family. But they don't live upstairs. At first, they didn’t believe us when we told about how much time we used to spend in the store. Luckily Lee thought to bring along some photos from the old days.
I wouldn’t trade those memories of growing up for anything. I’m grateful for the life-long lessons we learned on those streets: consideration, acceptance, and respect.
On 7th and L we were all just kids growing up together – peacefully in the shadow of the D.C. Navy Yard.
© Elayne Savage, PhD
Posted at 03:55 PM in Family, Gratitude, Respect | Permalink | Comments (0)
Tags: DC 7th and L Streets, Sarah Raskin, SE. Navy Yard, The Blue Castle, The Navy Yard Streetcar Barn, The Trading Post Lady, Washington
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