Happy to Report!

Contrary to what you might think (and I was concerned about), on-line therapy is working very well, according to the studies. There’s something about frequent texting, combined with optional video and audio, that seems to bring people closer and invite the sharing of confidences.

It allows my clients and me to leave notes for each other in the chat room, as well as to see each other and talk in real time. So for the client, it’s contacting their therapist as often as they want, 24/7, without having to get dressed and travel to the therapist’s office.

You might think that this keeps the therapist chained to the computer, but it doesn’t. While my clients can text me at 3 a.m., I won’t read it until 9 a.m., and that’s fine with them (and me!). When they read my response in the morning, they may opt to take some time to think about what they want to say next, maybe an hour or even a day or two. It doesn’t matter - the office is always open, although I’m not always in it. I do have office hours, of which my clients are aware, that are totally flexible, so I can accommodate everyone.

This works out well for the client who doesn’t have a therapist nearby, or wants complete anonymity (fake names are fine), or can’t afford face-to-face therapy. The only drawback, for both the therapist and the client, is that without visual cues, text messages can occasionally be misunderstood, so it becomes important to ask questions such as, “What did you mean by that?” I consider it excellent training for developing communication skills, which is what therapy is largely about.

Would I use an on-line therapist, myself? Absolutely! I would want to start with video, because I put great store by visual information, and then use the texting for ongoing back-up. But the video is not required, and people who are video-shy just avoid it.

If you’re interested in becoming a client, contact me at www.talkspace.com/room/samanthawhite. If you’re a therapist and would like to trying working through this medium, please contact me at samantha@LifeCoachSamantha.com There are cash bonuses available to therapists in underserved states, and I’d be happy to mentor you.

Chocolate Rules

These are two of the rules I live by:

1. Chocolate is not allowed to remain hanging around, at my house, tempting me. It must be entirely destroyed as soon as possible.

2. The only way to destroy it is for me to eat it.

I lust after all chocolate, from the finest Belgian handmade truffles to everyday candy bars. York Peppermint Patties call to me, too, and M&M's that have rested in the sun so they're all melty inside. I got very hooked, once, on Toffifay, and walked to the convenience store every day for my fix (and promised myself each time it was my last). My favorite, though, is dark chocolate - anything with very dark, hardly sweet, chocolate, especially if it is a covering for crackers, pumpkin seeds, or any kind of nuts or fruit. Or ice-cream. Hot fudge sundaes!

Basically, pure and simple chocolate, chocolate-filled or chocolate-covered anything.

This craving is a widespread affliction among women, it seems, more than men, and I don't know if anyone has figured out exactly why. We're agreed that it seems to have something to do with endorphins. Bingeing on chocolate is possibly diagnostic, as well as remedial, for feelings of disappointment and drop in mood.

I had a job interview, once, at which I was told that I could forget about finding work in the industry.  Afterward I went straight to the day-old-bakery outlet store and brought home a dozen chocolate cupcakes, some chocolate-frosted donuts, chocolate cookies and a package of brownies. I wasn't even thinking as I swept the stuff off the shelves. I just knew I needed this, fast!! (The interviewer's dire prediction was untrue, by-the-way; a few weeks later I landed my ideal job!)

There have been many similar episodes in my life. Chocolate restores my feelings of self-worth. Why? How does that happen?

I'm not going to wait for the medical and nutritional scientists to battle it out and propose the reasons chocolate is, or is not, a real remedy, or whether I'm just fooling myself. Chocolate is always welcome at my house, and my rules stand.

True Story

Have you ever thought about writing a book about your own life? Most people have. Thought about it, that is. And they would do it - if they could just tell the story of their life to someone who would write it all down and go off and create a book from it! Sitting down to write is not usually how most of us want to spend whatever free time we can squeak out of our busy lives. It’s hard work, and very, very time consuming.

It starts out as fun. Most people begin with the title, and then stop dead in their tracks. There’s something about a title that is satisfying enough to quell the urge to tell the world what happened to you. My cousin wanted to write a book about his experience of social isolation he felt in an alien environment, and he was going to call it, Among Many There was One. That, basically, was the story he wanted to tell. As far as I know, he never wrote another word of it.

I have some favorite titles that tell the whole story. Marry Later, Marry Smarter is one of them, and another is Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway. Those aren’t memoirs, though. Finding a title for your own life is more difficult. I was going to call my memoir, Not Crazy, but my friends were unanimously opposed, said it was too negative. I considered it positive, to be “not crazy!” 

The “working title” (I kept thinking of it as Not Crazy) drives the writing; the title that is finally applied usually comes at the end of the writing, when the book is ready to be printed and bound. The title my groupies agreed on was Someone to Talk To, which I still wish I hadn’t used, since it doesn’t really tell what the book is about.

The writing was difficult . . . onerous, invasive, taking over my life, for well over a year. I became ill from the stress. I became obsessed with the fear that I might die before I finished it. 

Am I glad I did it? Very much! Will I write a sequel? Probably not. I don’t want to work that hard again.

If it’s so strenuous, why does anyone write a memoir?

A writer named Sally Miller summed it up this way: “Our stories of overcoming adversity and hardship . . . . are monuments of hope to those around us. . . . . When we share them, we extend permission for others to say, ‘Yes, me, too!’”

That’s why I wrote mine. And it’s why I love reading memoirs, which I devour with great gratitude to those other writers who were also driven to share their experience for the possible benefit of readers. 

Memoirs inspire me.

Riding a Rocket!

In the final scene of the classic movie Dr. Strangelove: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, actor Peter Sellers zooms off into space straddling a rocket bomb as if it were a racehorse on a fast track to a new universe. That’s what I feel like. The rocket is telemedicine, and it has overtaken my life, carrying me into uncharted, exciting territory.

A few days ago MarketResearch.com published a list of “10 Companies to Watch in the Field of Telemedicine.” Many of them will bring a physician directly to your home via your computer to diagnose an illness or prescribe a medication. The two companies I work for specialize in Behavioral Health, or counseling and therapy.

The article reports that, “The mobile health market could reach an astounding $86.6 billion by 2020, a yearly increase of 20.8 percent over a five-year period.”

TalkSpace.com, one of the companies I work with, now employs over 200 fully credentialed and licensed therapists and is recruiting new ones at a rate of more than 50 a month. They serve a client base of well over 6,000 and growing.  BetterHelp.com, the other company I work with, is becoming the Behavioral Health arm of Teladoc, another company on the list of “the big 10.”

For me, this means I can do the work I love in my comfy clothes, in my favorite spot in front of the sliding glass doors that overlook the lake beside my home. For my clients, it means having more affordable access to me via texting, live chats, audio and video messages, phone and Skype. Some of them use made-up names, and I don’t mind. They can feel safe telling me about the most private parts of their lives, because it’s confidential. We exchange messages as often as the client wishes, and we come up with solutions to their problems. One client said, “I just need someone to vent to,” and another said, “It helps to have another person’s perspective on things.” Then there are the heavy-duty issues like, “Should I marry this person who is an active alcoholic?” and, “How can I feel lovable when no one has ever loved me?”  The elderly struggle with chronic illness and social isolation.

Many of my on-line clients are in their early 20’s and suffering from acute anxiety, so many that I think there may be an epidemic of anxiety going on. Or maybe it’s just about being 20; I remember that year in my life as being very stress-provoking, and I tell them that.

The best news is, the therapy works.

You can drop in at one of my online offices at www.betterhelp.com/samantha-white , or www.talkspace.com/room/samanthawhite. Or you can find me at my website, www.LifeCoachSamantha.com. Ride the rocket with me! (You can use a fake name.) 

Cyber WHAT?

The Internet continually comes up with new ways for us to use technology, socially and privately. Now there's telemedicine, a developing genre of sites that in the near future may make a trip to the doctor's office unnecessary. Some physicians are already diagnosing and treating online, reaching people in underserved areas who would otherwise have no access to medical help.This particular application may take a few more years to become mainstream, but one health-care specialty in particular has already generated such a large following that a lively competition has emerged among multiple sites, creating its own burgeoning market as it attracts new patients and clinicians daily. 

Call it cybershrink, e-therapy, or online counseling -  it's the new wave of mental and behavioral health care delivery quickly gaining followers in the U.S., Canada, U.K., South Africa, Australia, and generally wherever English is spoken, and even where it's not.

Imagine this scenario - you feel anxious and need someone professional to talk to about it, but you don't have a therapist. You don't want to let anyone know that you think you need a therapist.  You see an ad on Facebook: "Wouldn't you rather be happy? Click here for a licensed counselor you can chat with 24/7."

Too good to be true? The fact is, it is totally true. These sites are not "dating" sites, nor for late-night sultry, suggestive conversations. It's really e-therapy, or online mental health counseling. Some people see it as more like coaching, since there is no diagnosing of mental illness nor any drugs being prescribed.The counselors or therapists (the platform vocabulary differs among sites) are fully credentialed and licensed to practice in an office, and most of them do. But for a lower fee than you would pay if you drove to their office to see them face-to-face, you can be matched with one of those same therapists for on-line texts, live chats, or videos. No appointments necessary - you text whenever you want to. No travel involved. You can even show up in your pajamas!

Does it work? While many people have more faith in the old-fashioned face-to-face kind of therapy setting, many others feel able to open up more freely using the anonymity of the computer, where a client can use a fictitious user name with the counselor, initiate conversations whenever they like, and leave long posts or videos for the counselor at any time of day or night. The process moves along rapidly, just as the phenomenon is doing, like a train so new-age that the regulatory agencies are racing to keep up with it.

Relocating to another part of the country motivated me to examine the options for opening a new practice. I jumped aboard the e-therapy  train and the referrals began rolling in. My new clients, don't need to travel to meet with me. They gain access to all my professional skills, training, and experience, while I get to do more of the work I love.

Win-win!

Why Work?

Did you ever ask someone to explain something they had just said, that made no sense to you, and they responded by repeating it word-for-word, only slower and louder?

“I still don’t get it,” I told him.

“The. Only. Thing. Wrong. With. Work,” he repeated with emphasis, “is that it’s WORK!”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said. “What’s bad about work?”

The answer was, of course, that it’s work.

When I was a child, Daddy went to work every day. Mummy stayed home. Daddy dressed up and carried a briefcase, leaving cheerily in the morning and returning cheerfully for dinner in the evening. Mummy dressed down, in an apron over something called a house-dress, and flat heeled, lace-up shoes, and shuttled mounds of laundry from washboard to clothesline to ironing board, made up beds and scrubbed floors, all while preparing, serving, and cleaning up after meals three times every day. After dinner Daddy read the newspaper in the living room while I helped Mummy wash and put away the dishes, pots, and pans.

I knew for sure that I didn’t want to be a housewife when I grew up. I was going to be one of the people who dressed up, carried a briefcase, and had fun all day. And read the newspaper in the evening. I would go to work!

I grew up and got the suits and the briefcase and enjoyed earning a paycheck. But then I lost my job at a very bad time in my life – I was drowning in personal grief, trauma, betrayal, and loneliness –and I needed a lifeline.

I realized that the reason my father had been happy all those years (he worked until past his ninetieth birthday) was that he had work that he loved. He helped lots of people, that was what he did, and it made him happy.

So I stepped out into the darkness, off the edge of a cliff, into a graduate study program that I couldn’t afford, because it was the only route I could see that led to a reason to get up every morning, to go on living.

I became a healer of people, a helper, like my father. I am not very good at housework, as a visit to my home readily shows, but I love getting up in the morning to get to work. My work saves my life every day. And there’s nothing wrong, and everything right, about it!

Right Livelihood. The Buddha taught that it is one of the steps on the Noble Eightfold Path to peace, wisdom, and bliss. I have found it to be true for me.

http://buddhism.about.com/od/theeightfoldpath/a/rightlivelihood.htm

Better with Time

I’ve spent most of my life feeling homely and insecure. As my feelings of self-worth slowly grew, my body and face aged, and by the time I finally liked myself as a person, I was embarrassed by my body.

A local art school needed an unclothed model for a 6-week sculpture course. They wanted realism, code for “not a centerfold.” Elderly was good.

I was ready for a new experience.

I entered the studio wearing only earrings, a head scarf, and a robe, carrying a small hand drum. I took my seat on the platform and dropped the robe. I didn’t look down at myself, because that would have made me want to cover up and bolt. 

I sat motionless for hours, with short scheduled breaks. “Realism,” I reminded myself. “This is what a woman of my age looks like.” I watched the students study me while their hands worked the clay. At every table, I saw little images of me develop and take on form. Like me, the little figures bulged and drooped, looking like little old ladies. Nude little old ladies, holding drums.

As my eye traveled from figure to figure, I saw that they all looked very much alike, and - they were beautiful. Beautiful little old ladies, sitting with their shoulders back and their heads up, looking proud of who they were.

I fell in love with all of them, and at the end of the course I bought one of the figures, who now sits on a sideboard in my living room - head up and tilted to the side, eyes closed, hands on her drum. She is a mature, giving woman, with a strong back and graceful hands, and a body that bespeaks decades of living.

The poet Robert Burns wrote, “O wud the gods the gif tie gie us, to see oursils as others see us.” A gift, to see ourselves through the eyes of others.

I feel beautiful.

The Things That People Say and Do

I hadn't received a response to my application to graduate school and was desperate to learn whether I was in or out. I went to an orientation and looked for clues. After the question-and-answer period I approached one of the deans and introduced myself. Upon hearing my name, she turned away to speak to someone else, and I was left looking at her back.

"Uh-oh," I thought. "I didn't make the cut."

When the meeting broke up a little later, I had just introduced myself to a faculty member. As I gathered my purse, books, handouts, etc.,he said, "Here, let me help you will that."

He walked me all the way out of the building and to my car, asking me questions about myself and my desire to become a social worker, and told me he hoped to see me again.

I was puzzled. The dean had made me feel rejected, but the professor seemed to indicate I was accepted. Which was true?

As it turned out, neither of those actions was really about me. The dean was rude (she lost her job shortly afterward), and the professor was kind (as I got to know later, as a student, when he became my faculty advisor). I have since learned that other people's behavior is almost always an indication of who they are, not about you. People who complain about you are complainers, people who smile when they see you are smilers, those who yell at you are yellers, and those who hug you are huggers.

Watch the behavior of people around you, and see what it tells you about them! The things that people say and do are all about them, and not about you. (I'm sorry that it rhymes, but it does make it easier to remember!)

What’s your least favorite emotion?

In an unpopularity contest among emotions, Grief would probably win hands down. No one wants to feel it, and few want to be around anyone else who is going through it. When someone is dying, most friends and family stop calling or dropping by, not wanting to be where people dwell in the enormous grief of the end of a life.

In case you hate to even read about it, I’ll keep it short:

Grief comes to us all, in different forms, at different points in our lives, and sometimes we feel as though grief itself could kill us. But in life, everything changes. We adapt. We are altered by it, and can choose whether we emerge stronger or permanently damaged  –although that choice may not be apparent to us at first.

The important thing to know is that we eventually come out of it, albeit not unscathed. The scars we bear can ultimately become our greatest strength. I know this because it happened to me.

Confused Emotions

I saw a  mother rush to her young son, who had fallen from a small tree he had climbed. She hauled him up by the arm and spanked him, all the while yelling at him. She was conveying anger, but was actually discharging the fear she had just felt when she had seen him fall. Shouting and hitting felt normal to her, and was how she responded most readily whenever she was upset. The message her child received was probably distorted and humiliating.

When I was younger I feared anger and felt safer with tears, so I wept helplessly when anyone around me was angry. But when I was angry, I drew inward and appeared depressed. I’m sure my behavior baffled people. It’s no wonder I was misunderstood – I was sending contradictory messages!

We confuse each other by substituting more comfortable emotions for real ones which are painful to feel. When confronted by someone’s emotional reaction, including your own, consider that it might be a self-protective cover-up for what is really happening inside.

How is a "recipe" different from a "formula?"

As a chemist long ago, I worked with formulas, using calibrated containers to create compounds, and instruments to assay, desiccate, and weigh them precisely. Predictably, everyone using the formulas correctly achieved the same results.

 But when cooking, I start with a concept, a recipe - which may be merely an idea or a list of ingredients to start with - and then I make it my own. In rice pudding, for example, I substitute fruit for the sugar and add my favorite spices. It comes out different every time, but I always enjoy it.

 Recipes are adaptable, a creation of the cook. In any good recipe for healing, you are the "cook." Starting with an idea, you can omit or replace "ingredients," and add new ones, to make it yours.

There's no formula for healing, because everyone's pain and needs and dreams and hopes are unique. Life coaching needs to be about you, because it’s your life, to live and enjoy your way.

What does "support" mean for you?

How many definitions of “support” do you know?

One is “to provide for,” the way the main wage earner supports a family.

Another means “to subsidize,” as in making contributions of time or money to public broadcasting, community theater, local charities  etc.

Office staff, who answer the phones and sort the mail, support the work of the company.

There are many more synonyms and definitions, but the support ingredient in A Recipe for Healing is the kind that friends and family give just by showing up; the kind that comes from the community in the form of get well cards and casseroles; someone who listens to your troubles; a club, church, group or program you belong to that fills a hole in your life; or the neighbor and the nurse, who deliver your groceries and tend to your wounds.

We were never intended to struggle through life alone. 

Whom do you support, and who supports you?

A Recipe for Healing #2: Healing-vs-Curing

Do you know the difference between healing and curing?

To cure is to banish the symptoms of a disease or medical condition. Healing is something else. It means mending, or becoming whole. Applied to the spirit or the soul, it means overcoming suffering. 

Defined this way, healing is the rising above any kind of misery - whether fear, confusion, grief, poverty, boredom, indecisiveness, stress, abuse or mistreatment - whatever may be causing someone unhappiness or dissatisfaction, or holding them back from realizing their dreams.

Today's Recipe for Healing is: Take good care of your body but don't stop there! Tend to your happiness as well. Decide that you are going to stretch yourself, extending your reach, aiming for what will make your life richer in peace, purpose, and joy. This is called setting an intention, and it's easy. Just decide you're going to do it, and you will have taken the first step.

A Recipe for Healing #1 - Mental Illness? Not necessarily!

Did you know that much of what society calls mental illness is actually the normal reaction of healthy people to unfortunate or toxic situations?

Some behavioral disorders stem from true mental illness, but what most of us struggle with are just the demands of living. If we are overly criticized, we may develop low self-esteem; if we receive a diagnosis of a serious disease, we may become anxious; someone we love dies, and we grieve. Most of our emotional reactions are sane, normal, and typical of what anyone else might feel under the same circumstances.

Today's Recipe for Healing is this: avoid labeling emotional behavior - yours or anyone else's - as "craziness," or mental illness. Recognize and accept that most personal problems stem from normal needs for being loved, feeling safe, making sense out of disappointment or disaster, and having reasons to hope.

Your comments invited! If you'd like to receive my monthly "Recipes for Healing" and are not already on our mailing list, please e-mail me here.

The Surprise Gifts in Simplifying, Part II (Conclusion)

Tomorrow at dawn we will leave New England for our new home in Florida. Our car is packed;  boxes, bike, and drums have been shipped ahead. My husband, Lacey (our toy poodle) and I are ready to say good-bye to the home in which we came together as a little family rather late in all our lives, and embark on a new journey.

What started out as a project to declutter my home has become a total revamping of my life. I’ve traded my cramped and overly-furnished home for one that is smaller but simple and restful, devoid of a lifetime’s worth of books and assorted collectibles. We’ve given away all the things we don’t need or can’t use, and are headed for a little villa on the coast where the weather is sunny and mild, and the vistas pleasing. We’re ready to live less encumbered, giving to the world and being supported by it in the ways we enjoy most, embodying “The Power of Less.”

I will have with me only what I need, and be doing only what feels right, I’ll be kayaking the mangrove swamps instead of surfing the Internet, taking long walks instead of constantly checking my e-mail, sitting at my harp more and at my computer less.

I’ll still check my e-mail daily, because remaining connected to people is crucially important to me, and I will continue to follow the people who inspire me, online and in print. In two weeks I will begin an on-line training program in harp therapy (IHTP), combining my love for music and healing work, something I have wanted to do for twenty years but didn’t have space in my life for, until now.

 I have identified what is essential to my life: time with my husband, time with family and friends (whom I’ll continue to see), and some time alone, doing the things I have longed to do and of which I have done too little. My top-priority list is short: 

1. Health.
2. Husband.
3. Harp.

Clearing the clutter has allowed me to see that it all comes down to how I want to spend time, so precious and unpredictable, the currency of life itself. My husband and our health, and music – the stuff of our fulfillment, peace, and joy – are my priorities. 

As we are doing now, my book has taken flight, moving on into the wider universe. I hope it will continue to make its way to people who will find something in it they can use or enjoy. I hope readers will continue to recommend and share it – and when they look at its cover image of quiet beach and blue sky, they will see my life as it is now. Serene.

Today, life is good, and full of hope and promise. I deeply and truly wish that your life, too, be and continue to become what you want it to be. 

Always,

Samantha

The Surprise Gifts in Simplifying, Part I (#10 of 11)

Simplifying, the third principle in Leo Babauta’s “The Power of Less”, demands a certain amount of letting go – of “stuff” that serves no useful or important purpose, of plans and activities that waste time and energy, of things that are no longer necessary. 

Unfortunately, doing only that isn’t always enough. To really pare down to the essential, sometimes a major shift is required: retiring (as in my case) or leaving a job we love because our health has declined, moving away to be closer to a loved one who needs us, dropping out of clubs and activities in order to focus more on the things that matter most, the things that are essential.

“Focus” is Mr. Babauta’s fourth principle, and my focus is shifting to my health and serenity in this, the eighth decade of my life. I feel lighter for having made the decision to retire and to move away from the harsh New England winters I’ve known all my life. It didn’t come easily, giving up so much of what I’ve loved and worked so hard for, but I’m ready. Saying good-bye to my home and my neighborhood, knowing I won’t see the people I love as often, threatens to break my heart. We’ve promised each other we’ll travel to spend long, lovely visits together, and to keep in frequent touch via phone and the Internet. I am so grateful for the Internet!

On the last evening we were in Florida, before coming North to sell our home, my husband and I dined on a deck overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. We talked about the nine years we have been together, recalling how sick I was when we met, how we hadn’t been able to fully enjoy our grandchildren when they were little because I was so ill and so dedicated to my work, and he so intent on taking care of me and getting me stronger.

Afterward we took a walk on the boardwalk to the beach, down by the jetty, and stood on the sand, facing West. The sun was low in a puffy blue sky, and the surf softly lapped at the shore. We held hands.

“Look,” I said to him in wonderment, “it’s the cover of my book. Serenity. And we live here now. The picture has become our reality!”

We watched the fiery disc sink to the horizon, touch its own reflection and become larger as it sank into the sea, leaving a blazing trail of red, orange, pink and purple streaks across the darkening blue. 

I squeezed his hand and kissed him. “We live here now,” I marveled again.

Now that I’m well enough, we can finally enjoy the the time together that remains, doing the things we love most. We can’t know how long it will last, but we can make the most of every day.

(To be concluded next week.)  

The Unutterable Lightness of Decluttering (#9 of 11)

Now that I’m somewhat recovered from the binge of exceeding my limits which I wrote about last week, I’m having a wonderful time with this surprisingly joyful project. Every time I realize there’s something I no longer need, especially if it’s something that consumes a lot of space, I feel a sense of victory over the belongings that have taken over my life.

My husband and I are longing to settle into the tidy little villa in Florida. Our newly decluttered and repainted home in Massachusetts is on the market. We have looked at everything we own and asked ourselves, “Do we really need this? The filing cabinets, the media bench, the floor lamps?” and, equally important, “Where would we put it?” (We voted to keep the media bench, live without the filing cabinets, and we’ll bring only two of the four lamps. We’re donating a lot of our clothes, especially the winter ones.)

We’ve been applying Principle #2 in Mr. Babauta’s book, “Choose what is essential.” We have given away almost all our furniture, including sofas, tables, chairs, a lovely pine desk, and two bookcases. I’ve recycled most of my books, keeping my music books and one bookcase in which to store them. My husband gladly agreed to give up his huge old vibraphone for a new compact one which will be delivered in Florida.

I have two weeks left in which to say good-bye to family and friends, see my doctors for check-ups and a flu shot, and anticipate what lies ahead: time in which to read for pleasure, stitch for relaxation, exercise for health, and meditate to quiet my mind. When we walk out of our old home for the last time, I’ll probably look at how shiny and gorgeous it looks, stripped of all the clutter and polished to please the eye of a prospective buyer, and I may wonder why I decided to give it up.

But only for a moment. I know why, and I’m elated at the prospect of living the simple life in an easier climate, and finally being fully retired. Deciding to move has made the war against clutter easier; we’re just packing the essentials and divesting ourselves of what’s left. 

A famous quote from Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince left me stunned the first time I read it, hand lettered on an original painting that hung in the home of a friend:

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”

Choosing what is essential goes beyond furniture, lamps, books and filing cabinets. It’s about lifestyle. Serenity is my essential goal, intangible, but unmistakable, and literally invisible to the eye.

The serenity will be in the new spaces in my life.

(To be continued next week.)  

Speed Limits . . . . (#8 of 11)

I have run smack dab, headlong into a major obstacle to my downsizing/moving project.

I ran into fibromyalgia, which I sometimes forget that I have.

I usually control the fibro by limiting my activity, eating right, and resting frequently. On “good days,” I feel fine. But one of the symptoms of fibro is forgetfulness, made worse by my age-related memory loss. This combination – feeling fine and having a poor memory – sometimes makes me forget that I have fibromyalgia.

For example, last month a colleague invited me to a job interview with her boss. Forgetting that I’m planning to retire, I said, “Sure!”, jumped into my car and drove forty miles down unfamiliar roads in the near 100 degree Florida heat, forgetting to bring a bottle of drinking water. My friend and I trudged through miles of hospital corridors to the interview, which lasted a long while. Afterward, heading back to the parking lot, I became painfully aware that I had forgotten to bring the cane that I keep in my car.

I had been hired! Spirits high, I did a little shopping on my way home.

Back in the villa at last, exhausted and aching, I collapsed and slept until my husband served dinner, and then I collapsed again.

I spent most of the next few days horizontal, more tired, weak, and internally disrupted than I had in months. I phoned my friend’s boss and explained that I could not accept the job because of the fibromyalgia which I had forgotten I have. 

That was by far not the first time I’d made myself ill. My enthusiasm for new projects and adventures springs eternal, and from time-to-time I over reach my limits, taking on something I used to be able to do very well B.F. (Before Fibro), and forgotten I can no longer do.

Now I am awash in refashioning my home, my professional career, and my lifestyle. At the start, in my enthusiasm, I planned to clear and pack a room a day. Now I’m finding that I am worn out by Noon. Pushing too hard makes me ill, and so, predictably, I’m in a fibro flare-up, wiped out, hurting all over.

The first principle of the art of decluttering, according to Leo Babauta, is: Set Limits. I need to continually remind myself to remember that I have fibromyalgia, and slow down, take my time, set limits to match reality, which is no more than a room a week, at best. 

The short list:

1. Set limits.
2. Be realistic.

When I find myself worrying about whether I’ll meet the schedule I’ve set for accomplishing this enormous task, I remind myself . . . I’ll do the best I can, and it will take as long as it takes. The only pressure is what I create for myself, and I must stop doing that. I really, really need to “take it slow.”

And with this realization, The Simple Life begins, as a mindset, an approach to living.

(To be continued next week.)  

Is It Worth the Struggle? (#7 of 11)

Decluttering our home, already a daunting prospect, has now been combined with staging it for the market. It’s a mammoth undertaking, and time is short. This calls for detailed strategizing.

Strategizing can be time consuming, but it really impacts how well a project proceeds once it is put into motion. I’ve found this to be true about most large undertakings – long trips, remodeling jobs, writing. 

I wrestled with the content and purpose of my book far longer (about twenty years) than it took me to finally sit down write it, straight through (fifteen months). 

I mentally remodeled the kitchen, with its terra cotta flooring, compatible counter tops and wall paint colors, comparing paint chips and material samples, for longer (about two months) than the installers spent transforming the kitchen (three days).

When we travel the 1500 miles between the overly furnished home we’re sprucing up to sell and the neat villa we’re gradually moving into, my husband and I plan the route, the stops, and the snacks and clothing we’ll bring along. We’ve learned that planning pays off in a seamless experience once we’re underway.

I enjoy spontaneity, but when faced with a large project and a short deadline, I’m a planner.

So I’ve been reading books on organizing, simplifying, packing and moving. I ordered boxes in four sizes, packing paper and bubble wrap, marking pens and miles of packing tape. In two weeks something called a “Pod” will be delivered to our home and two strong men will come to help us load it. Most of our stuff has gone to charities that have been coming by to pick up our surplus and recycle it. We’ve filled a lot of trash bags. We’re only about halfway through.

My goal is to leave our house neat, polished, and “staged,” as sterile and also inviting as an elegant hotel suite, with only basic furniture and minimal decor. The dining table will be set attractively for two, with place mats and napkins, color-coordinated plates and stemware, tall candles in cut-glass bases, and a tasteful arrangement of really convincing artificial flowers. I never use artificial flowers in my real life, but no one will be there to tend to real flowers. The bed will be made up with an ivory-colored comforter. Matching towels will hang on the towel rack. The closets will be empty.

I am concentrating on Mr. Babuta’s advice:

1. Identify the essential.
2. Eliminate the rest.

It sounds easy, but it’s not. I am in a hurry to start living The Simple Life, but this is a tortuous process and can’t be rushed. We leave in four weeks. So much to eliminate, so little time!

I must admit, though, that every time we relinquish something we don’t need, don’t enjoy, or haven’t used, I feel a flash of satisfaction, knowing it brings us closer to our goal. If you’ve been tempted to downsize, I recommend you try it, and let me know how it feels for you!

(To be continued next week.)  

The Low Road’s the Right Road for Me (#6 of 11)

After working for sixty years, I am finally retiring, lured by visions of great chunks of free time in which to practice music, dabble in art, relax with needlework, and read everything I can hardly wait to read. I’ve been walking around the house singing the lyrics of a catchy song from the 40‘s by Jamie Cullum which go:

“Some like the high road, I like the low road,

Free from the care and strife.

Sounds corny and seedy, but yes, indeedy

Give me the simple life!”

That’s what I want. In The Simple Life, I would not be drowning in paper that pours from the mailbox, the front door, and the computer printer. There would be fewer phonecalls, e-mails, catalogues, and bills. I would have all I need and nothing extra. There would be  time to meditate, exercise, eat right, read, practice music, enjoy at least one more activity of my choice every day, nap, and still get the laundry and shopping done.

But Elaine St. James, in her book Living the Simple Life, recommends having only three or four ongoing goals at any time, to avoid self-sabotage by overwhelm. So I have narrowed it down to:

1. Exercising

2. Practicing music

3. Enjoying time with my husband.

I figure that meditation, socializing, reading, crossword puzzles, and laundry will fit into the spaces and not get overlooked. And in the Simple Life, I can cut myself some slack.

Now that I can see it manifesting right before me, all I have to do is finish the decluttering project I’ve begun, responsibly close my professional practice, and embrace what lies ahead. 

But another complication has arisen.

A couple of posts ago I wrote, “I’m seriously considering selling our cluttered house in exchange for a neat one.” I wasn’t kidding. Now Husband and I have decided to leave our home in New England and make our vacation in Florida our permanent lifestyle, instead. So I am paring down my life while simultaneously redefining it and also relocating it.

I’m giddy at the prospect of living in the sun by the sea, where it’s always Summer (by New England standards), with the wonderful new friends I’m making there. 

Have you ever noticed that when a room or a whole house is being cleaned and tidied, first there must be some disorder? As drawers and closets are emptied, and the step stool and cleaning supplies and equipment are added to the mix, the room or house can quickly resemble a disaster area for awhile. It seems that creating order requires first an increase in chaos. 

So my home has become a shambles of boxes and piles of dishes, mountains of clothes and books. The decision-making (keep? store? recycle?) is endless, and exhausting.

I can barely tolerate thinking about all the upcoming goodbyes and sad partings from family and old friends.

As I pursue my dream, The Simple Life, the burning question for me is, “How can I keep this simple?”

I'm wide open to ideas and especially encouragement.

(To be continued next week.)