Is It A Crisis Or Does It Just Feel Like OneWritten by Dr. Dorree Lynn
Part one of a series on psychotherapyContrary to way most of us think about crises, genuine crises are few and far between. Life or death situations such as serious illness, a bad accident, or a suicide attempt are crises that must be dealt with in moment. An out of control alcoholic spouse, a physically abusive parent, a child swallowing poison, aftermath of rape, are all crises that require immediate attention. In these situations you will need to call a trusted relative or friend, a crisis hot line, 911, your physician, or go to local emergency room. You must take action now. Almost all other situations such as a divorce or your child having a behavior problem just make you feel as though you must do something this second. You want to do almost anything to stop pain, but, in fact, you don't have to do anything in moment. You have time to think and to find best help you can. Ask yourself an important question. Is what you are facing really a crisis or does it just feel like one? Although we live in a culture that demands instant gratification and instant solutions, in actuality there is very little that must be acted on immediately. What most people consider a crisis is simply an overwhelming sense of panic, an intense reaction to a conflict or difficult situation. Since life will always hand us "hard times," it helps to understand that we can learn to manage a situation that feels "out of control." Human beings are remarkably resilient and tend to bounce back even when it feels as though they never will. All cultures understand that upheaval can result in growth. The Chinese symbol for crisis or obstacle is same one that represents opportunity. This is a notion to which I adhere, as a psychotherapist and as a human being.
| | Father's DayWritten by Dr. Dorree Lynn
BASEBALL MEMORIESA DAUGHTER’S TALE My father wanted a son. I understood that from time I could intuit those secret messages that children know without knowing they know. My dad loved me. I also knew that. But, raising a daughter was foreign to him. Certainly, it wasn’t his first choice. So, in ways that a child tries to please a parent, I tried to please him, to fulfill and give him what he wished for. It worked up to a point. Although in later years he was proud of me, for most of our life together, he was never comfortable around me. Baseball was king in New York City when I was a small child, and although my dad was an inveterate Dodger’s fan, we lived near Yankee Stadium and it was there we bonded as much as we were ever able to. Warm weekends, when he was free, we went to game. I looked forward to going with him. The hotdog vendors, and cotton candy, peanuts and all junk food my mother never knew about — a shared secret that made day just that much sweeter, that much more special. Sometimes he remembered how small I was and he reached out to hold my hand. Sometimes, he got caught up in excitement of game, forgetting he had a young daughter to take care of. I understood that too, and in those moments I reached up to touch his hand, sometimes wrapping my small fingers around his larger ones, reminding him of my presence. I learned game well along with roster of great Yankee and Dodger players, with a few others thrown in: Yogi Berra, Pee Wee Reese, Joe DiMaggio, Whitey Ford, Satchel Paige and of course, heroic Jackie Robinson. I watched plays, miraculously caught high pop fly balls, catcher (Yogi) always in control, umps calling their balls and strikes, seventh inning stretch when I was more than ready to go home. And, sometimes, a shared ice cream sundae, one more secret indulgence, before returning home.
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