Changing to…?
When asked what they hope for in seeking psychotherapy, many people answer that they want some part of their lives to change: change in their levels of anxiety and/or depression change in their relationships: romantic, family of origin, work, friends change in their sense of themselves, e.g. self-esteem Usually, the implication is that the change should be for the better and not fully understood. And yet, what does it mean to change? And what are the effects in our lives when or if we do? This is the first of a series of posts concerned with the topic of change and the sometimes thorny path it takes. In his research and writing, Murray Bowen posited that a whole system could be changed if one aspect of it were altered. If that system is a computer program, it may be relatively painless (although I’ve never changed anything on my computer that’s been anything other than a pain). When we’re talking about people–in particular, families with long-standing patterns of interaction–that change probably won’t be integrated without great difficulty and even greater patience. Indeed, that system may not want to change at all and will work hard to get you to change back. For instance, in families where people convey information indirectly, e.g. a parent communicates with his or her son through the daughter, and that daughter no longer carries her parent’s messages, will the parent then speak directly to his or her son? Or will that parent increase his or her efforts to re-engage the daughter’s earlier role? More often than not, the latter is the norm. It requires support, energy, and determination not to allow yourself to be pulled back into a well-worn role and/or to experience the complaints of those who relied on you to play that role. Having a group who encourages you to continue on your new path, helps you develop new ways of interacting, will bear with you the growing pains, and celebrate the growing gains with you, can make a huge impact on your ability to navigate the effects of changing....
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The part of town I live in is great for walking, which also happens to be my favorite form of exercise. Like many people, I tend to follow the same route for most of those walks. So, I see the same streets, houses, gardens, even dogs, over and over. A few months ago, I had an errand that meant I could kill two birds with one stone (get some exercise and run the errand); I would walk the same route but I would have to walk it in reverse. I would see all those houses and yards, but from a different angle. Initially, it all looked pretty much as usual, but within a few blocks, I began to notice previously unseen aspects: a beautiful door leading to a hidden garden; a canopy on one house that looked like sails that might carry it off on some Jules Verne voyage; a house whose backside belied the well-kept front. A neighborhood I thought I knew intimately turned out to have hidden beauty, ugliness, and whimsy. I started wondering how often I’d missed these same bits of my own life, of my friends, family, myself. It’s hard to see the other parts unless I walk the path a little differently. And can I remind myself when it all looks the same from this angle, to move just a little to the left? It’s difficult to imagine when you’re in the clutches of depression, anxiety, grief, rage, or any intense emotional state, that there is anything else. When will that feeling lift just enough to allow you to glimpse another part of your life? And, if it does, will you miss it? You might. We all do. I have found, however, that we get more than one chance. Sometimes you have to walk the same street for many years before you see the other...
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