Mindful Moments
By Tina Clark, Licensed Professional Counselor
September, 2011
 Reflections on Summers Well Spent
By Tina Clark, Licensed Professional Counselor
For many of us the beginning of September signals the beginning of the busy season. I can always tell September is here when my todo list has to be written in micro-type to fit in the allotted space in my calendar. The morning mountain air begins to feel almost chilly enough for another layer. There are other not-so-subtle cues too. I haven’t stepped inside a major retail location in a week or so but I would imagine an endless array of holiday items are beginning to take up significant real estate there. I will save my thoughts on that for another time. Since, according to the The Farmer’s Almanac, summer does not officially end until 5:05am on September 23rd, I choose instead to focus my thoughts of gratitude for the present season.
When you think of summer I am guessing many of you are thinking about vacations, sandy beaches, cookouts, a more relaxed pace and your favorite pool or swimming hole to cool off in. When I think of summer I think about all of those things too, but mostly I think about summer camp. My life forever changed the day I stepped out of my parent’s car and into the white gravel parking lot at Camp Green Cove one June morning in 1983. I could write a book about my experiences and life lessons learned there…and some day I might very well do that. For the sake of brevity, suffice it to say that it was the beginning of one heck of a transformative journey that continues even today. A painfully shy, redheaded, tomboyish adolescent emerged from her parent’s car full of conflicting emotions. I was petrified and yet thrilled beyond measure. I had no idea what camp-life would entail; yet I somehow knew it was going to be terrific. I looked around at all of the other campers (girls as young as 8 and old enough to be seniors in high school). Many of them looked really excited and super comfortable. They hugged each other and ran off to get settled in their cabins. Some of them looked like me, seemingly frozen in apprehension, wondering what they were supposed to do next. Before long a counselor with a big smile came over and offered to help me find my cabin counselor and get settled in. She reassured me that I was going to have a great summer. I believed her and she was absolutely correct.
Green Cove became my summer home and by the time I graduated from college I had invested nine summers there (transitioning from camper to counselor). The camp has a long-standing tradition of rich self-discovery based on the philosophy that children need both roots and wings. It is also asserted that neither is much good without the other. The camp also fosters a non-competitive atmosphere in which children focus on celebrating personal victories and achievements without having to inflict defeat in the process. As a parent and therapist I am now able to see another enormous benefit. It is a place of empowerment. For me, summer camp was the first place where I felt like I could truly color outside the lines. Each day I was encouraged to try activities I hadn’t even imagined before (rock climbing, horseback riding, canoeing, etc.). Not to mention these very things had a tendency to petrify my mother…particularly the rock climbing one. It is no surprise that those were also the greatest personal victories. I pushed myself a little bit more every day. I began to trust that I could accomplish anything I set my mind to do. Perhaps, most importantly, I also learned that it was okay to be my most authentic self. I didn’t have to impress anyone with how I dressed or who I knew. Mud was a common fashion accessory and badge of honor. By each summer’s end my growth was wildly apparent to me. My camp friendships had a depth and richness steeped in endless hours of adventure. Many of these friendships have lasted the test of time and are deeply cherished. In fact, my husband of 15 years and I met at camp as adults (he worked at the brother camp – Mondamin).
Many of us, myself included, have now transitioned from camper to counselor to parents of a new generation of campers. Fortunately the camp is family-owned and run and the founding principles remain very much intact. Several summers ago we decided to take a leap of faith and enroll our then 8 year-old daughter for a 3-week session. I can assure you it is far easier to be the camper being dropped off than the mom leaving her precious daughter in the hands of a group of virtual unknowns. Thanks to all of the research I have done on the art and science of parenting I knew what I was supposed to do. Actually doing it, however, took seemingly superhuman courage. I obsessed over every packing detail, spent the weeks showering my daughter with endless “nuggets of wisdom” to best prepare her for her upcoming experience. I do recall an abundance of eye rolling and rightfully so. I was smothering her with my worries. The truth is, I was going to miss her and I was that mom that was spending countless hours worrying about every conceivable what-if. I remember standing in my daughter’s cabin, lost in thought when a tiny voice woke me out of my fog. “Mom…you can leave now…I’m all set,” my daughter injected. I looked down at her. She wore a bathing suit and a broad smile and indeed looked confident and ready to begin her summer of adventure…without me. I gave her a hug, told her I loved her and that I was very proud of her. She hugged me back and ran off with a gaggle of cabin-mates to take her swim test in the lake. Admittedly I shed a steady stream of tears as I headed down the exit road. My tears lasted on and off for a few days until a tiny pink envelope with recognizable handwriting arrived. “I’m doing great and making lots of friends,” it said. The day we went to pick her up I will never forget the hug. Her eyes lit up and she bounded over with a giant genuine koala bear hug.
My daughter, now 10, has spent 3 consecutive summers at camp. She seems to handle the separation with ease. After her first summer she asked if she could go to the longer session because she wanted “more time to be able to do more stuff.” Every summer she emerges from her time away, a more confident, fun-loving and self-directed child. We miss her while she is away but the separation has gotten considerably easier. We have joked that I will no longer be the mom who is freaking out when she embarks on her college journey. It is assumed I will have loads of healthy separating experience under my belt by then. Psychologist and author of the book The Parents We Mean To Be; How Well-Intentioned Adults Undermine Children’s Moral and Emotional Development, Richard Weissbourd seems to agree when he says, “It’s important too for us to see that taking vacations without our kids or sending them to camp may not only be the key to developing their independence but also to developing our own, so that we can work to master the anxieties and vulnerabilities created by these separations.”
As parents we inevitably worry. Worry about the safety of our children, worry about doing a good job as a parent, worry about our children being successful…you name it…we seem to worry about it. In my experience, worry comes with the territory but we don’t have to be paralyzed by it and/or allow it to consume us to the point where we are unable to let go and let our children learn how to navigate their own territory and gain essential life skills. I agree with the roots and wings philosophy. Without the roots and wings I received at summer camp, I am quite certain I would not have taken many of the risks that became accomplishments that I hold so proudly in my heart. It is also with those roots and wings that I am now able to confidently pass on the same gift to my daughter.
March 2011
Mrs. Clark's Opus Coping with Grief and Loss by Tina Clark
As a counselor I am
constantly looking for ways to improve my insight and sharpen my
skills to better assist my clients. Sometimes these improvements come
by way of reading new material or attending a conference or seminar.
Sometimes they come from truly listening to someone and extracting
wisdom from their story. And sometimes life simply hands us
circumstances that challenge us and we learn from the proverbial
School of Hard Knocks. It seems that grief and loss is one of the
most profound of these circumstances. After a loss we often find
ourselves overwhelmed with a complex array of thoughts and emotions.
Last month, life
presented me with a loss that many will weather in their lifetime and
often multiple times…the loss of a cherished pet. Opus, our golden
retriever, will forever in my mind be a model of great courage and
grace. She was an integral member of our family for 14 years and
during that time did not always have the easiest of medical
circumstances. Born the runt of a large litter of puppies, Opus was
born with greatly deformed hips that required a triple osteotomy
(major pelvic surgery) at the tender age of 3 months. She seemed to
weather that gracefully despite the obvious discomfort and ridiculous
looking “cone of shame” she had to wear to protect her surgical
site. She recovered fully and went on to enjoy a good decade of
family life complete with ball fetching, hiking and swims with our
family. One day, about four years ago I came home and noticed Opus
acting strangely: staggering as if she were intoxicated and unable to
swallow. Our vet recommended an immediate trip to the closest
veterinary hospital that had a neurology department. There she was
diagnosed with a cancerous tumor located on her brainstem which, they
advised me, was treatable. We took it day by day but Opus responded
remarkably well to her treatment and the cancer was eventually
eradicated. The vets who treated her over many months regularly
commented that they had never seen a dog so good-natured about
receiving chemotherapy. They even confessed that she was so well
liked by staff that she was never kenneled. Apparently she preferred
to “go on rounds” with them. Opus spent the past four years
giving unconditional love to everyone she met including a new puppy
we brought home last summer. She mothered that puppy as if it were
her own. Finally last month, Opus began to exhibit signs of distress
and considerable discomfort. It was clear she was no longer enjoying
life and nearly everything was a struggle. We knew it was time but
dreaded every moment of that realization.
In my lifetime I
have weathered more pet and people losses than I wish to count.
Despite the often-excruciating sadness I have also been able to
extract some unexpected gifts. These losses afforded me an
opportunity to learn a great deal about myself, about my loved ones
and perhaps, most importantly, how to ask for a shoulder to lean on
or an ear to listen. Academically and intuitively I have also
learned that everyone’s grieving process is unique and what might
be comforting to one might feel unhelpful or even harmful to another.
An example of this is the suggestion or reaction to quickly “replace”
the lost pet with a new one. This might be a positive suggestion or
solution for some but unconscionable for others. Another important
consideration is to acknowledge that when a loss occurs within a
family it is often helpful to honor the loss within the family. The
afternoon that we said goodbye to our sweet Opus we all left the
veterinarian’s office with heavy hearts. That evening we found it
very helpful to look at old photo albums and reflect on what a
wonderful and rich life she had. The children found it particularly
helpful to see her as a puppy looking lively and happy. We then
turned to a wonderful picture book that I have found helpful for both
children and adults called “Dog Heaven” written and colorfully
illustrated by Cynthia Rylant. We had purchased this book after our
family’s first dog loss many years ago and had inscribed the name
of that dog (Hobbes) wherever we saw an appropriately sized black dog
throughout the pages. We scoured the pages to find the dog that
looked most like Opus. Sure enough there was a slightly rotund (Opus
lived to eat) light brown dog that definitely resembled her. The kids
and I went to work with our Sharpie marker and Opus was “officially”
welcomed into Dog Heaven. My 5 year-old son then asked quizzically,
“Mom, do you think Opus has found Hobbes yet?” With a lump in my
throat we looked at every page to “make sure” that they had found
each other again. Finally on the back inside cover there they
were…reunited. We all seemed relieved and comforted by this, though
that “proof” appeared to be vitally important to my son.
When
it comes to
grief and loss, one of the reactions I see most often is the fear of
processing the loss. It appears that we are afraid to “go there”
because we know it will hurt and we will have to deal with painful
feelings. Unfortunately denying the process of grieving can increase
and prolong our suffering. Perhaps our friends and family find it too
difficult to talk about. Perhaps we aren’t comfortable expressing
our genuine deeper emotions with others. Perhaps we have other
unresolved issues around grief and loss that haven’t been dealt
with. A counselor can be helpful during these times. A counselor is
trained to listen well and guide you as you sift through difficult
feelings. As much as many of us would like to side-step grief and
loss in our lives, the sobering news is that it is inevitable. In our
lifetimes we will likely lose more loved ones than we would ever dare
imagine. Sadly our furry friends don’t live as long as our human
friends so we will likely suffer those losses more frequently. When I
lost my first dog (who, in my mind, was my first child) I felt
shocked and overwhelmed. Though my support system was very kind and
compassionate, I knew I needed to “talk it out” with a trusted
counselor. I was and still am grateful for that session.
Tina Clark is a LPC practicing in the Women's Wellness
& Education Center. Read more about Tina here
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April 2011
Spring Forward…Embrace the Growing
Season! My favorite season is upon
us. Every year I yearn for warmth and tiny signs of life and color amidst the
seemingly bleak, gray and lifeless landscape. As I look around today the trees
are bursting with color, flowers blooming, birds chirping and people emerging
from their winter dens. Of course people are sneezing and dealing with itchy
eyes thanks to the burst of pollen from all of this blooming, but I, for one,
accept this irritation as a small price to pay for the many benefits of the
season.
I believe spring is a
terrific metaphor for counseling. In counseling we must accept a certain amount
of discomfort to fully enjoy the benefits of growth. We could stay inside in a
controlled environment to avoid the discomfort of pollen thereby missing out on
the sights, sounds and sensations of the season. Inside our homes would we be
able to feel the sun’s warmth on our face? From inside we can only imagine the
sights, sounds and smells of a spring day. In my work I frequently encounter
people who are unhappy, fed up, unfulfilled, stuck and yearning for positive
change but fear facing what ails them. They avoid addressing issues that may be
painful because they don’t want to experience pain. True…it seems counterintuitive
to invite discomfort, but avoiding, denying and repressing it only serve to
prolong our unhappiness. Facing our fears and discontent with a trusted guide
has the potential to enlighten, empower and provide lasting relief.
I believe the therapeutic
process should be collaborative, empowering and malleable. I believe the pace
of therapy is variable. When a client is feeling energetic and empowered we
will tend to take bigger steps, while sometimes a client has been making great
strides and will need to take a moment to reflect on that progress and rest
before tackling something else. Sometimes the issues are intense and require a
gentle path. No matter the pace the goal is always relief, growth and
self-awareness. What wonderful rewards those are.
Often people come to
counseling when their life feels bleak and lifeless (much like a winter
landscape). As a counselor I have often likened myself to a seed planter. I
enjoy the process of getting to know a person’s thoughts and feelings and how
they have shaped their choices. Using my best judgment I will gently toss out
“seeds” or new ideas. Sometimes these “seeds” are met with ideal conditions (an
open mind ready to try a new way of being) and they germinate quickly.
Sometimes the conditions aren’t quite right and it may take a while before that
seed is able to spring to life. Some of my most gratifying moments as a
counselor come when I see these seeds take root and create positive change.
These are the moments when a client is able to find peace and forgiveness,
relieve their burden of paralyzing anxiety, unearth their inner gifts and/or
face the world with a refreshing sense of purpose and self-worth.
I wish you all a happy
spring and encourage you to take the time to engage in this beautiful season of
growth. And for all of you allergy sufferers…neti pots work wonders!
Written by:
Tina Clark, Licensed Professional Counselor at the Women’s Wellness
& Education Center
June 2010
Mindful Moments by Tina Clark,
LPC
As I take a
moment to reflect back on the past month in my practice I recognize so many of
those moments can be measured in tissue boxes. May was a big month for Kleenex
in my office. As a counselor this is a bittersweet accounting of a busy month
in the Women’s Wellness Center. On one hand I was pleased to see so many brave
souls seek help. On the other, I was impacted by the heaviness of their hearts.
So many of these brave individuals came forward because they simply couldn’t
bear holding on to the heaviness any longer. Many have been holding on to their
pain for decades in an attempt to bury the hurt and move on. Not only did it
take an extraordinary amount of energy to attempt to contain it, but, in nearly
every case, that strategy only served to compound it.
One of my
favorite books, The Art of Happiness (written by The Dalai Lama and Howard C.
Cutler, M.D.) points out that suffering can only be avoided temporarily.
According to the authors, “like a disease that’s left untreated (or perhaps
superficially treated with medications that just masks the symptoms but doesn’t
cure the underlying condition), the disease invariably festers and worsens.”
Going with this analogy, I recognize that many of the brave souls I met in May
recognized that their suffering had only festered and worsened despite their
attempt to bury, deny, numb or deflect it. Using the disease analogy, wouldn’t
it be prudent to “catch it early?” Wouldn’t it be wonderful to address the
painful issue while it was still one issue? Sometimes we don’t have that
luxury. Some of our pain began early in life and we simply didn’t have the
emotional safe space to receive support. Fortunately as adults we can make that
decision for ourselves. We can acknowledge that we need and deserve support. We
can find that emotional safe space in which we can tell our story. Instead of
spending our precious energy working to bury, deny, numb and/or deflect we can
shift that energy into healing the heaviness in our hearts and eventually into
building the life we truly want.
As we shift that
energy we must also recognize that healing takes time. So many people come into
therapy and want to know how long it will take until they are “better.” While I
would love to be able to promise quick and guaranteed results, that it simply
not realistic. According to the Dalai Lama, the process of change and the
achievement of happiness require five main components: “learning, conviction,
determination, action and effort.”
I can attest that these components are central to positive counseling
outcomes as well and they take time.
My hope for my clients is that we can lay the groundwork to galvanize
long-lasting positive change…even if it takes a whole bunch of Kleenex boxes.
Tina Clark is a
Licensed Professional Counselor at
the Women’s
Wellness & Education Center
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