I have always enjoyed writing and laughing, even as a kid. I love dialogue in movies and the power of words. I discovered my ability for writing in high school and did not consider it a "talent" until a few of my friends in my class brought it to my attention during essay tests. They would witness me writing away on a test and slap me and say "What are you writing? How do you know how to answer this? How do you have so much written so far?" I would laugh and shrug my shoulders. I was a terrible student yet writing was one of those things "I could just do somehow". In grad school I wrote a project for my group dynamics class and it was like writing a screenplay; hours went by like minutes. I was obsessed with working on it and became completely in the flow, lost in the story. My mom read it and was laughing hysterically, which made me beam with pride. After this project, writing became my passion. I have found writing as a therapeutic outlet for me as well since I am a mom, a Licensed Clinical Professional Counselor (LCPC) and a health/wellness coach. I finally finished my first novel, a fictional coming of age story, which is loosely based on my family and our funny and not so funny experiences. My novel is about growing up on the south side of Chicago and the mentality that comes along with it; or maybe it's just me. I struggled for years with the fear of "putting myself out there" and worrying what people think until I realized that unless you put yourself out there, you will remain invisible in this world. A South Side Story is now available on paperback and kindle through Amazon and Barnes and Noble.
Quillan Kelly-Dunn is my pen name.
A South Side Story https://www.amazon.com/dp/1548863572/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_LKoBAbNE0ZJND
The most difficult class I took in grad school was called Group Dynamics.
I walked in to a large classroom set up with thirty desks facing each other in a circle. The only person in the circle without a backpack at their feet, was a lanky, tall guy wearing a plaid shirt and navy tie.
He resembled a 45 year old Alex P. Keaton with Dick Van Dyke legs. His legs were crossed and he looked way too casual for a student. His elbow was propped on the desk and his hand held a pen that he clicked repeatedly next to his ear. He continued to look at each of us, yet didn’t say a word.
When the clock displayed the 6:30pm start time, no teacher introduced themself. It was odd. Five minutes went by without anyone speaking. The clock seemed to move in slow motion. The quiet was deafening and awkward.
After about 15 minutes, we all started looking at each other with that WTF-bewildered-look. Some raised their hands, no response. Students talked out loud, asked questions, some whispered to each other.…crickets…most students shrugged their shoulders.
We sat there in silence for 50 minutes. 🦗
It was maddening.
At the end of the class, the syllabus was passed around and the teacher left.
His name was Dr. Wolf.
The Assignment for the next week was to turn in five group dynamic observations we learned from this class.
But, we didn’t learn anything?
I scoured the book for hours all week trying to figure it out. I turned my sentences in, received it back at the end of class -grade 0/5. What?
Week after week I would relentlessly read and compose informative sentences only to receive a big fat zero. So I tried harder, read the chapter longer.
Continuous weekly ZEROS.
Each class, the silent Dr. Wolf would remain unresponsive, despite the students were becoming visibly frustrated, emotional, & downright irate.
When I received a zero on my test, my chest collapsed in devastation. I remember walking out of school into the January cold, sobbing. That Ugly cry. I cried all the way home and considered dropping the class.
Unfortunately, the class was mandatory in order to graduate.
I never tried so hard at anything in my life. Finally, I got angry.
I said “Fuck it.” I stopped trying. I stopped caring. I didn’t look at the book for a week.
After the next class, I half-assedly wrote down what I observed in the class. I relished in my passive aggression to the teacher.
Get. Bent. Dr. Wolf.
My statements:
1. “Without proper leadership, a group begins to look to each other for a new leader because their current one sucks.”
2. “Without direction or rules, a group breaks into cliques or subgroups and complains or talks about their own topics.”
3. “When the leader ignores the group, the members become frustrated, disrespectful, or withdrawn.”
4. “Without leader guidance, group members may want to leave the group.”
5. “Emotionally unsupportive male leaders may become strangely attractive to group members.”
The last one cracked me up.
Clearly, I got a thing for tall, lanky, emotionally unavailable men. 😉
I turned in these statements at end of class. I didn’t even wait until the next week. I wanted him to associate my face with my answers. I gave him an obstinate look as I tossed the sheet on his desk.
That following week I was excited to receive my zero. At least I didn’t waste hours of my time for this F/Zero. I hoped to see some type of expression on Dr. Wolf’s smug, stupid yet sexy face.
The paper was given to me with a
5 out 5-100% in red ink!!!
My neck snapped back like I was in a head-on collision. My temples throbbed like I had a case of whiplash.
Huh?
Then the epiphany…
Ohhhhh, he wants to know what I think, not what the books says.
I learned this without him saying one word.
I was also trying way too hard instead of seeing big picture.
“Work smarter, not harder” finally became clear.
From that day on, I was on fire.
Once I “got it” … I was unstoppable.
Imagine if I quit before it clicked. What a shame that would’ve been.
I learned more from this class than any other in my entire educational career.
Why?
Now this occurred 20+ years ago.
What would’ve happened if this class occurred in 2024?
Most would’ve just given up, dropped the class, maybe even changed majors. There was no instant gratification.
The giving up reasoning aka whining or excuses would probably sound like:
“It’s too hard!”
“He is emotionally abusive.”
“I’m being bullied.”
“The teacher is racist.”
“He’s a narcissist.”
These are paraphrased statements that I have heard from my own children and from other kids/teens; even adults.
Which I usually counter with “Maybe they are, but what are you learning from this?” as my mind flashes back to Dr. Wolf…
However, I never realized that at times, I was enabling my kids to use their feelings as an excuse; or making them feel too special so they thought they didn’t have to try.
My intention was to empower my kids, instead, I may have been fostering dependence on my approval.
I believe collectively, we all wanted to ensure our children had a more positive upbringing than we did.
Unfortunately, it may have gone too far and it seems to be backfiring.
As Simon Sinek states here & in the below link that this mindset could’ve been exacerbated we started to give everyone participation trophies.
Kids learned that everybody gets rewarded even if they don’t try, so why bother exerting effort.
Painful revelation
I am humbled to admit this:
When my husband encouraged my kids to throw away all of their participation medals & trophies, my kids (7 & 5) were crying, I erroneously sided with my kids.
I didn’t understand what my husband was trying to accomplish. He was ten years ahead of me. All I could see is how upset they were.
My own childhood confusion was prolonged by not having the “WHY” explained, so I convinced my husband to explain WHY he wanted the kids to do this. It made sense, sort of. I still didn’t see how this would have an impact on their future.
I see it now.
How else are they are going to learn to get back up when they are knocked down?
When things get tough, are they going to get back up or quit.
Are they going to keep trying after they fail, or surrender.
Honestly, how many times a day do you think you think or say:
WTF IS HAPPENING?
Obviously, there are many topics currently, that I want to say wtf about.
One in particular, applies directly to us, to our kids and the future generation.
I thought it was established, especially during quarantine, that teachers are way underrated.
Teachers should make quadruple of what they are making now. Teachers should be treated like politicians.
I have many friends that are teachers, so this is a combination of stories that I’ve heard from them. There appears to be an ongoing theme:
No Respect for Authority
Sense of Entitlement
Expecting HIGH grades
with LOW effort
Little Value in Hard Work
We all had to start at the bottom and work our way up. There is no skipping this step.
One of my friends,W, went back to school while raising three kids. She now has a job as a science teacher at a high school.
W is one of those gifted individuals who can bring out the best in people, especially kids/teens. She can make them laugh just by a facial expression.
W sacrificed so much to earn this degree. W lost a lot of precious time not watching her children growing up to apparently raise other people’s children.
Gradually throughout her first year of teaching, she has appeared worn down, discouraged and burnt out. At times, it’s as if she lost her spirit.
Every time we go for a walk, W has some ridiculous story involving:
Students are on their phones during class and not paying attention. She has to repeat herself four or five times. The more she tries to enforce no phones, the more argumentative, irate and even aggressive the students become.
The students are rocking in their seats to soothe themselves from the absence of this device. They don’t know how to tell time on the clock on the wall. They keep asking her what time it is. They don’t know how to read. They don’t know how to follow directions. They don’t know how to think without googling the answer. It’s like they’re complete zombies without that phone.
The best story so far was when a female came up to W during class stating that she needs her phone so her boyfriend can call her from jail.
The female student states “He only has a certain time that he can call me so I don’t know what to do.”
W replied “Well, for starters, you should probably find yourself a new boyfriend”
Thankfully, the girl laughed & returned to her seat.
W is the only teacher that is enforcing a no phone policy during class, because the other teachers have understandably, given up. It is too exhausting. It sounds as if the faculty is perpetually in self-preservation mode & walking on eggshells around these teen toddlers.
W is presenting a new policy to the board to enforce an all-school-no-phone-use-during-class. Why? Because the kids aren’t learning when they have a phone distracting them. She CARES.
She is making a difference, but caring is taking a toll on her.
She’s had to break up fights in class, students are getting in her face, & other are students recording it. How is this fair?
If these teen-toddler bullies do not receive consequences and limits, they will just grow up to be an asshole.
It is scary that teens are now attempting to bully and intimidate adults/authority figures
Perhaps it’s because all the students are staring at their phones, they don’t have to interact with anyone around them. The only person that may be directly speaking to them is the teacher.
Teasing & Bully encounters can be good among peers. It builds character. It teaches a person to learn how to stick up for themselves.
Sometimes, when friends or foes make fun of you, you may learn to stop doing some inappropriate or annoying mannerisms in public. You learn how to speak to people, have a filter, & understand what can be perceived as rude or ignorant. It’s part of growing up, the socialization process.
We all need feedback.
This interaction is also good to prepare individuals for dealing with difficult people in the future. If you don’t experience this type of social banter growing up, you may end up being naive and fall for a lot of jokes/pranks.
What is going on behind-the-scenes in the mind of a bully:
No one deserves bullying however, these frustrating social interactions teach us something. Getting pissed off and fed up is motivating. Taking action to become a victor instead of a victim.
Speaking of victims, have you ever encountered a teacher that you were sure had it out for you?
Sometimes they do have it out for you. Some are micromanagers, bitter, resentful, angry, sadists or feel powerless them selves.
However, the majority of teachers really do care.
If they didn’t care about their job, the students and their future, they would just operate on autopilot, turn a blind eye or laugh it off.
Looking back, every time I got in trouble, I was terrified. Once, I was escorted by a teacher to the disciplinarian’s office.
You know what, I never pulled that crap again.
I didn’t realize at the time that my teacher who spent the time escorting me to the office, actually cared about me.
Biologically, teenagers do not have the mental capacity for empathy. They do not comprehend how they are wasting the teachers time, effort and energy. Teens are biologically self-absorbed.
Kids, teens, even adults should receive consequences because that’s how they grow and learn from mistakes.
I am only one person and I have no clue how to help rectify this. I am sure there are many individuals who can see the big picture of the disaster that is waiting for us in the future.
Soon people will be a shell of themselves
I’m tired of shaking my head and muttering WTF is happening.
Any ideas???
Simon Sinek describes the dopamine rush from phones in these clips. An unmonitored cell phone is like an open access liquor cabinet for kids and teens.
For about ten years, things were great with our team. We became a little family. We embraced each other’s idiosyncrasies. We invited our spouses and kids to our quarterly get together’s. (Mom Friend) MF invited all of us to her husband’s 50th party because all he wanted for his birthday was to “jam.” I had never been to a party where they had a real band in the backyard equipped with stage, dance floor, microphone, and instruments. MF’s brothers and brother-in-laws all were musically gifted as well. They all performed and sang on stage, even MF, her husband, her kids. It was by far, the coolest party I had ever attended.
I had planned on sleeping over so I was lucky enough to witness a real “acuostic jam session” between MF, her brothers, sister, nephews, nieces, and her kids etc. Everyone was enjoying drinks and were sitting around with their instruments. MF nephew asked her if she had heard of the song, “Angel of Montgomery” By John Prine, sang by Bonnie Raitt. MF replied “Kinda”. He said, “All right, Let’s do it.” Her nephew handed her a notebook with the lyrics written inside. All of MF brother’s, nephews etc began playing as if they rehearsed this everyday; which they didn’t. They all had regular jobs but played music for enjoyment.
I always knew MF was a good singer, however, I was soul blown when I witnessed what I did that night. I hate to sound like Stepbrothers, but honestly, she did sound like a combination of Fergie and Jesus; as if Bonnie Raitt or the Angel of Montgomery herself was in the room. It was fascinating to watch. When she was done singing and the guys were all done playing, everyone seemed to say “Whhooooaa” simultaneously.
Soon after, MF’s husband hurt his back really badly while landscaping, his mother died of Alzheimer’s and his business fell apart. He was unemployed and lost. Meanwhile, their son was approaching high school graduation and becoming a legal adult, which was setting MF and her husband into a tailspin of anxiety and concern about his future.
It did not help that MF was going through menopause and this seemed to trigger a new onset of mood disturbance symptoms. She could not sleep, she would fly off the handle and at times it was as if she could not stop talking. One day I teased her and asked her how much coffee she had that day. When she asked “Why!???” In a paranoid, attacking way. I told her she reminded me of Kramer from Seinfeld when he drank too many cafe latte’s. That didn’t go over well 😬.
Thankfully, the Doctor and Rokstar could always get MF laughing no matter what was going on; usually by taking a break and watching a few SNL clips or Thug Life videos. Of course her flying off the handle led to some comical stories. MF would often to refer to herself as a “Straight up Ridah” inspired by “Ambitionz of a Ridah” by Tupac.
Our personal favorite “Ridah” story was when MF got into a debate with a bad ass, hilarious, six foot tall Amazon woman at work. At our next party, the two of them decided to settle this debate by agreeing to disagree and then by having a “dance off”. Both tenacious women claimed they won and it was an event we still laugh about, mainly because of the “Ridah’s” perspective and comments about it.
Following the dance off party, MF was doing well again for a while, until her family was struck by another tragedy. Her niece that she was extremely close to, lost her 10-day old full-term newborn.
Understandably, MF fell apart again, and it seemed to take her much longer to bounce back. This seemed to break her heart and spirit more than anything else ever had. Seeing a beautiful, angelic baby in a bassinet/casket is something that no one should have to witness. I went to the service. It was a traumatizing sight. It is one of those things I deeply wish I could “unsee” because that image is burned in my brain. I cannot fathom the pain that MF, her family or this baby’s mother had to endure.
One day MF conveyed to us that she finally found comfort from the tragedy in the bible verse Matthew 10:29, 31. It was difficult for her to see God’s plan this time through the baby dying, however her faith helped her find peace. I still was detached from my faith so I ignorantly teased her for being a “Bible Person”. When she explained it to me, I hated to admit that it made sense, I had not yet made my peace with God.
After this incident, MF’s husband to seem to spiral out of control. It seemed he could not cope with the severe back pain, the financial pressure of losing his business, his autistic son’s future, his daughter’s financial & college career and then his wife’s grief and depression.
MF was struggling with her husband’s episode because he was always the rock that kept her and her son together. His patience with his son was limitless and MF would frequently say that he has the patience of a saint. However, since her husband was self employed, worked alone at home, he did not have time for many friends or a support system of coworkers as MF did.
Rokstar was very concerned when MF did not show up for work February 8th, 2016 and she was not responding to texts or phone calls. Rokstar, The Doctor and I were talking on the phone together on three-way and we decided that we should stop over at her house to make sure everything was okay. It was snowing and we were thinking something may have happened with their power. Deep down, we all knew something was wrong.
I live the closest, and already out, on the way home from work, so I stopped over first. Rokstar was on her way also. The doctor lives in the city, so no need for her to drive.
I rang doorbell, no one answered the door, it was eerily dark and quiet until the dog started barking. Then I walked by the garage and saw a dark liquid that looked like oil on the sidewalk from the garage.
The Doctor called the police on her home phone while the three of us remained on our cell phones together. We all had a sick, nauseous, trembling feeling. The bond the three of us share from that night changed forever that moment. It was an unspoken promise, we are forever together from this.
The police would not disclose anything to Rokstar and myself except that there was someone deceased in the home and that they would contact us once the identity was confirmed.
One can only speculate why MF, her 18 year old son and her husband were found dead in their home. One can only guess what happened based on the information that is known.
Ironically I found peace and comfort in “Don’t be afraid, you are more valuable to God than a whole flock of sparrows.”
One thing I do know is that when you have a a friend that you love, you do not want to see them in pain. I do believe she is no longer afraid. She is not in pain anymore and does not have to worry about her son’s future because she is right next to him. Additionally, she would be going ballistic everyday if she were here to see Trump president😂.
By the grace of God, their daughter took some time off, but eventually graduated from college and sings everyday. MF’s strength lives on in her daughter’s heart, soul and voice. #margaretstrong
Update:
Katie was hit by a train February 16, 2019, the 3-year anniversary of the funeral service. I am sure this was no coincidence, but who can blame her. No one should have to endure that pain, devastating loss, and heartbreak. To be honest, the pain was so raw and debilitating when Katie was alive. Your heart shattered, literally everyday for her. Especially when she posted herself singing. Thank God they are all together now.
I don’t know about anybody else, but I am definitely not myself from Martin Luther King day until about Presidents’ Day. Four long, full weeks, with no days off.
Flat affect on blast 💥
During this time, I’m pounding vitamin D supplements like nobody’s business. It takes effort to feel motivated. A tremendous amount of energy & preparation is required to go for a walk outside.
Work, grocery shopping, exercising, cooking dinner, raising-teens, dishes, laundry, etc. the day-to-day feels so much heavier.
Now, this is the time where it’s a good idea to schedule some self-care & make plans with friends and family. Having something to look forward to makes a difference. Seeing the people you love in person, has an impact. Social connection has the power to help get you out of this funk.
I know this. Yet, I’m too tired to reach out. I’d rather just sit on the couch and wallow in this.
Yesterday, a Wednesday & Valentine’s Day, was an exceptionally tough day. It is my husband’s birthday so I wanted to cook a special dinner. I always forget to take the day off, thinking I can handle working, then rushing around cooking an elaborate spread.
Yes, I was going to make my kids assist, but sometimes delegating is even more exhausting. I do not always have the patience. Plus they may screw it up. 😂
Clearly, I was in my head and taking everything way too seriously.
I received a random text from a friend, T, that I haven’t talked to in a while, like years.
I’ve been meaning to call her especially after finding out too late, that her mother had passed.
I have had a post-it on my wall to send her a card for almost three weeks. It’s like, “Why don’t I just execute and do it? Why do I keep waiting?”
I was waiting for a “good time” to call her and finding the “perfect card to send her .”
So instead of texting her, I just called her right then, even though I was in middle of a car maintenance appointment.
There is no perfect time.
The call was interrupted, chaotic and silly but in that 35 minutes, it was real. Also, we were both laughing hysterically.
We hang up and go about our day, working & juggling motherhood. I went for a walk on my lunch since the sun was out. I asked my retired friend to join me, which also helped me get out of my head.
Early evening, after we both got through our day, T texted me, thanking me for the call.
She then goes on to tell me some amazing stories about her mom.
Why do we find out how spectacular someone is, after they’re already gone?
Such as, her mother had TWELVE children.
My friend T texts about her mom:
She’d tell my husband “mi hija es chingona. Sabes porque? Porque es mi hija.”
Translation: “My daughter is a bad ass. You know why? Because she’s my daughter. “
How cool is this? She sure sounds like a fun & fiesty lady.
T texts:
“Yep. I got all my seven sisters matching t shirts that say “chingona como mi madre”
Badass woman like my mother.👊🏻
T goes on to say:
“She loved the Rocky movies because my brother that passed, idolized the character. I went to Philly for work and took her with me to walk the steps and see the statue of Rocky.”
“I played the Rocky theme song on my phone while she walked up the steps.“
This is on my bucket list, so I’m intrigued. T sends me these fantastic pictures.
I am tearing up & smiling. I have the chills. Now…I’m obsessed with her mom. I am grieving this woman that I, unfortunately, never had the opportunity to meet.
Good reminder: The grief is always there. The griever will want to talk about the experiences they shared & the great things their loved one brought to this world. If they don’t, let it be their choice.
Don’t ever feel like “I didn’t want to bring it up.” It’s not like the person forgot about the loss. That pain is always lingering in the shadows.
I assume and doubt anyone is like “Oh, I forgot my mom died, thank you for the reminder & ruining my day.”
We can’t be afraid or avoid talking about this because it’s part of the beauty of life. The more powerful the love, the more powerful the loss.
To my surprise, by T talking about her loss & grief, she remembered a great accomplishment of her own.
T Texts:
“Omg and when I ran Chicago marathon my niece (my deceased brother’s daughter) made this poster for me.“
These trembling chills emerge down my spine, goosebumps on my arms as I’m reading her text, sitting in my office with these pictures right next to me:
If I never called her, I would’ve never known about this coincidence…this connection. This obsession we had in common.
I was chilly and involuntarily tingling for some reason. I put my cold hands under my thighs. I looked down at my chest and observe what I’m wearing.
I swear to God, this is 100% true
This is one brief moment in an ordinary day. Life again reminding me to:
Wake the fuck up 🫣
Make the call. Send the text. Go out when you don’t feel like it. Show up for your friends. It’s not about you.
That imperfect phone call at a horrible time…
Wow.
P.S. My Husband “slyly” suggested we go out to dinner instead. I didn’t shower first and I wore the Rocky sweatshirt. 🤗
I’ve been also grieving Apollo Creed, Carl Weathers, Chubbs like he was my personal friend.
Have you ever had a vivid memory of an experience from decades ago come flooding back to you out of nowhere?
I had this memory tsunami happen to me yesterday.
I have been doing this Meditation challenge since the beginning of 2024. This app was referred to me by my brilliant colleague. (Links below).
Yesterday morning, I completed session four of the “Taming Anxiety” challenge. The topic was about cognitive distortions.
I haven’t thought about my own battle with cognitive distortions since college.
Feeling compelled to share my experience in case anyone is feeling stuck or discouraged. I could’ve used the information below way earlier.
This life-altering moment occurred when I met with the school counselor about my schedule. Apparently, something I said was a red flag to the counselor that I was struggling with anxiety.
Thankfully, she did not use the word “anxiety” at the time. Unlike now, that uncommon, scary word and its symptoms were foreign back in the 90’s.
The counselor handed me a paper describing cognitive distortions (CD). I distinctly remember reading these, with my eyes bulging out of my head. I was in utter shock that this wasn’t a “normal” way to think.
As a student, I was able to start seeing her weekly for free. If it wasn’t free, I would have never gone through with it. I needed to save my money for nickel beer night. (A non-clinical, absurd cognitive distortion. 😏)
Each week, I discussed all of the stupid, irrational, and impulsive behaviors I did while operating in a perpetually, anxious state-of-mind.
It took a tremendous amount of effort to retrain my brain, unlearn old ways and reframe the CD. I truly believed I would NEVER be able to stop them.
I kept showing up even though I dreaded it and was uncomfortable.
By going to counseling & actively participating, I inadvertently leaned toward anxiety and its clutches.
Then an emotion showed up…humiliation aka cringe.
All I can say is thank effing gawd there were no cell phones or social media back then.
I experienced all of these:
After about 20 sessions, the counselor subtly addressed my lifestyle and inquired about how I have been coping with these tricky little fuckers.
The counselor then pointed out that contrary to popular belief, alcohol will only temporarily help. “Alcohol and marijuana are like a band-aid, and they make anxiety worse if using them to “self-medicate”. They may also cause paranoia.”
Every single one of those pesky, mind-fucking, cognitive distortions were on blast all-of-the-time. Ironically, they were present before, but I did not notice because I was detached from myself.
Suddenly, when I got in-tune with my body & mind, I felt paralyzed with anxiety. I froze, couldn’t make decisions, and just stopped everything.
Which led to…
Social anxiety & social isolation
I was terrified that I would have a panic attack in public. Panic attacks are real & scary AF.
I was very confused that I felt worse in therapy. The counselor gently reminded me that “Things get worse before they get better, it is always darkest before the dawn.” I let go & trusted the process.
Once I accepted it…I became consumed with talking about anxiety and explaining myself to everybody.
Side effect of untreated trauma+anxiety=lack of boundaries…
Thankfully, I had a very, wise friend, who could see the big picture. She said something profound to me like this:
Engaging with a friend who “gets you” without judgement, makes a monumental difference.
With time, patience, and lifestyle changes, this way of thinking extinguished itself. Of course this anxiety got “canceled” by utilizing a combination of counseling, mindfulness, physical exercise, limiting caffeine/sugar/alcohol, spending time outside often, taking vitamins, journaling, yoga/pilates, mindfulness, medication and most importantly, in-person human connection.
Looking back, it appeared to be absolutely impossible to overcome.
Now it seems like no big deal. I had to feel it, do the emotional work and allow it to pass.
I am glad that there is less stigma & more awareness about mental health and anxiety, currently.
However, it should not be used as an excuse to give up. No one IS their diagnosis. The more you avoid, numb, or hide from it, the longer it takes. Running from it only prolongs the process. The process can be conquered with the proper guidance, effort, & dedication.
In 1998, there was no other option in my outlook, except to keep trying. It was also way easier to unplug and detach back in the olden days.
How terrifying for gen z, teenagers & children right now? The social pressure, “cancel culture”, picture-perfect-life-posting and the “it’s-too-hard-I-give-up” mindset is disheartening.
Humans have survived thousands of years before iPhones, social media and the internet.
Reminder: Humans are resilient.
The epiphany empowered me today to push my teens to face uncomfortable emotions that sting.
Pain teaches you something.
Nothing ever grows in a comfort zone.
It’s a constant effort to remind myself of what is considered a big deal to my kids.
Social connection is getting worse, not better. Therefore, it is never too early to start healthy coping strategies. I mean, if nine-year-olds are spending $900 at Sephora on anti-aging skin regimens, then it wouldn’t hurt for a child/teen to unplug their mind for 15 minutes a day.
What I really like about this app is it makes the decision for you. It is like a parent that perhaps all adults need sometimes. “This is what is on the agenda today, do it and stfu.” It has a calendar that keeps track of your progress. Lastly, the founder, Dan Harris, describes how he had a panic attack on national television.
Any generation could understand how mortifying that had to be.
If numb & detached, you can’t feel love Since I published this, I completed this 7 out 10 day challenge. I don’t know why but this little badge made me feel a slight bit of accomplishment.
This is a revised re-post. It’s was a therapeutic, free association that is too difficult for me to shorten…
September 8, 2020…When I saw that “CobraKai” was the #1 watched series on Netflix, my mouth dropped open. I started trembling. I assume this reaction was due to a level of euphoria that I have not been able to publicly get in touch with since 1986. It was an intoxicating feeling of true belonging, like “I am not that big of a weirdo” after all. Other people in this world are clearly are obsessed with Karate Kid as well.
My siblings and I can quote The Karate Kid pretty much word for word. I’m sure people who have witnessed us in “Karate Kid (“KK quote mode”) must have thought, “Jeez, how many times have you watched this.” Daniel Larusso’s self-righteous anger & Johnny Lawrence with his gleaming, blonde, visor haircut never gets old.
“Belonging is the innate human desire to be part of something larger than us. Because this yearning is so primal, we often try to acquire it by fitting in and by seeking approval.”
Brené Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection
Over the years, there has been brief moments where I’ve had the courage to be my authentic-KK-loving self. This was usually brought on, subconsciously, by enough alcohol that could kill a small child. Some may get white girl wasted, but I prefer to say Mr. Miyagi wasted.
This first incident was released by liquid courage, not true courage. I was 21ish, enjoying the last few hours of the weekend at Reilly’s Daughter. As Cruel Summer by Banana Rama began blaring, one of my sloppy, drunk, guy friends slurred these words to me “Hey! The Karate Kid song!” Omg. Suddenly, there was something there between us that wasn’t there before.
As he was clumsily swaying back and forth to the song, holding a pitcher of Lemovox in one hand, a full cup with a cigarette in the other; he stepped out of the friend zone and he became strangely attractive. I was captivated by his lack of rhythm and impeccable hand-eye coordination. I was entranced and ready to make out with him in the middle of the bar; kinda like how Daniel nearly swallowed Ali at Golf ‘n Stuff.
By the grace of God, he slipped and wiped out on the perpetually sticky and damp, bar floor. The pitcher of lemovox spilled all over his clothes, hair and eyes. He stumbled to get up, screeching that the cheap, acidic combo was burning his eyes.
The laughter of all the guys combined with his fall, broke the lemovox induced spell.
Where am I? Perhaps I should re-think this?
Anyways, it was a close call. This was my first indication that my private obsession with Karate Kid could potentially become a big problem. If I acted on my irrational impulses, it would have been, literally, a cruel summer for me. My friends would’ve ripped me apart for the next six months; perhaps years. I made sure to keep this side of me repressed in the future.
I will play possum until this goes away
The second time, the obsession re-surfaced during an emotionally vulnerable time. I was married for two years and had my first baby. The newness of having a newborn had run its course. The financial pressure of adulting with a mortgage and unpaid maternity leave left me no choice but to be back at work in 10 weeks.
I had just stopped breastfeeding/pumping and the hormonal-fluctuations resulted in giant eruptions on my chin. My body…that awful in-between phase of maternity clothes and regular clothes. Nothing fit right and I felt uncomfortable, bloated, and fugly. My wardrobe consisted of stained tops and a choice of either cameltoe khakis or muffin-top black pants. I wanted to hide.
All this combined with running on 3 hours of sleep and the fluorescent lighting of the emergency room where I worked; left me feeling real attractive.
To make matters worse, my husband and I were working opposite schedules to be home with our son. We slowly became disconnected, sleep-deprived roommates.
Meanwhile, a single, energetic, childless guy started training in our department who was extremely witty and funny. I was shadowing this guy to make sure he was performing the psychological assessments correct. The patient we were evaluating lived in Reseda, Illinois. The guy says to me:
“I never heard of Reseda Illinois. I thought it was in LA. I only know that because of Karate Kid. “Oh you have a date? With whoommm? Not that boy from Reseda.”
My eyes widened and without thinking I replied, “Yeah Dad, he’s from Reseda.” Then I nervously laughed, blushed, & started to sweat.
“Yea whoop dee do. You want me to do cartwheels or something?”
Suddenly, my KK repressed self was unleashed. I could not stop. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed like this or felt so alive. We continued this banter the rest of the evening; driving my other co-workers nuts. Walking to my car that night, physically exhausted, but mentally, I am was in the best mood. I felt like “me” again.
At the time, I thought he put me in the best mood, but in reality, he just made me feel comfortable to be myself without pretending.
Sometimes joking isn’t about making fun of someone, it’s about making fun of a situation to disconnect ourselves from whatever uncomfortable emotion it creates in us.
Brené Brown
Braving the Wilderness
This guy had the ability to connect with anyone, he had everyone laughing. However, I started getting jealous, wanting his attention. (Don’t judge me, when you’re dying of thirst in the desert, you don’t care who gives you the water.)
However, since I had not felt this type of connection in so long, I continued to make awkward attempts to keep it alive. Thankfully I got the hint eventually and knocked it off.
In hindsight, I did not recognize how disconnected I was from myself, my values and my pain. This having-babies-rite-of passage is a huge adjustment. The more I tried to “pretend” I had it all together to avoid feeling the shame; the more I kept myself in this vicious cycle. Kinda like Daniel LaRusso, who likes to blame the school, his bike, his mom, and moving to LA on his current situation.
It’s not about the bike asswipe
Most recently, this movie came up again last year when my son went on his first date. At the time, I didn’t realize it was a first date because my son kept saying they were “just friends”. When I picked her up, I witnessed how the two of them were interacting… Unfortunately, this revelation unfolded in slow motion in my brain; …omg my son is…a GUY.
Flashbacks of my son and I holding hands, snuggling on the couch began to flash before my eyes. My little boy is gone. In the middle of this bittersweet epiphany, the girl’s dad came to the car door to meet me. I behaved like a complete fool, a total awkward nerd. I turned into Lucille LaRusso and I had no control.
Lucille was a damn good mom.
Anyways, I have accepted my siblings and myself are weirdos. I love this about us.
In our defense, we have a good reason. Our memorization of KK wasn’t a typical situation. The Karate Kid was part of our daily routine.
You see, our brother, was non-verbal and wheelchair bound. After he got home from school, there was not much he could do but watch or listen to TV. So this movie was playing continuously in the background. My youngest sister would sit in her playpen eating melba toast and my brother would lay on floor and they would watch this movie (and The Muppets) together almost everyday. It was so cute that we would sit with both of them and watch it, again.
Despite our age difference, this movie connected all of us.
My Mom & Johnny
In spite of my brother’s limitations, his stellar personality and sense of humor shined through. Our brother, Johnny, would have this smirk on his face while watching KK.
Over time, we noticed a pattern in what Johnny found the funniest. He laughed the hardest when people were loud, yelling, angry or sniffling/crying. When I say laugh, I mean he displayed that shaking-silent-laughing-so-hard giggle.
One time I was crying about some nonsense, sniffling. My brother erupted with the laughing. I wanted to tell him to shut up, which is funny in itself. I stopped crying and started laughing too. This was the first time I recognized the irony of his reactions. There seemed to be a deeper, non-verbal message he was trying to communicate.
“I’m laying here on the floor, I can’t walk, talk or feed myself. What the hell are you crying for? Get some real problems”. -Johnny Durnell
Johnny passed away from respiratory failure on July 21, 1999 at the age of twenty.
I suppose repressing The Karate Kid is also like repressing the grief and all the uncomfortable emotions that go along with grief. Guilt, anger, despair, resentment, etc. feelings I don’t want to feel.
Trust your gut Johnny, ignoring those feelings. will only hurt you in the end
What these three examples have taught me is that the story I told myself kept me stuck. How repressing these emotions can result in HUGE mistakes if caught in an irrational, raw, vulnerable place.
The most difficult part of our stories is often what we bring to them—what we make up about who we are and how we are perceived by others. Yes, maybe we failed or screwed up, but what makes that story so painful is what we tell ourselves about our own self-worth and value.
Brene Brown
Thinking or talking about The Karate Kid makes me think of my brother, my childhood, and what this movie triggers inside me. It brings me joy, but it makes me feel pain in my heart. This movie unleashes a floodgate of all emotions.
If I want to feel, I have to feel it all. You can’t “show up” and “hide” at the same time.
Alcohol is a slippery slope, especially with trying hard to numb & repress grief. It is a band-aid that works at first, then it just makes it worse. Sleep deprivation, hormones, poor self-worth, disconnection contribute to an irrational & vulnerable state of mind. My coworker caught me at a weak moment emotionally and unknowingly made me feel safe by bringing up this movie. The connection felt euphoric because I blocked my story for so long.
If you won’t allow yourself to feel the sadness, anger, shame, grief and pain; you will also deny yourself the feelings of love, joy, growth and happiness.
Owning our stories means acknowledging our feelings and wrestling with the hard emotions—our fear, anger, aggression, shame, and blame. This isn’t easy, but the alternative—denying our stories and disengaging from emotion—means choosing to live our entire lives in the dark. It means no accountability, no learning, no growth.
I found myself bending over, while someone dragged their fingers down my spine. I slowly walked back to the class wearing my plaid skirt, round collar blouse and unfortunate weskit (vest) and forgot about it.
I didn’t think about this random, bending-over screening again until I read the book Deenie by Judy Blume.
I was so confused by Deenie’s choice to hack off her hair because she was so angry about having to wear the brace.
I remember thinking “What’s the big deal about the brace? She only has to wear it for a few years. It’s not her fault. “
Then I saw Sixteen Candles…
I laughed just like everyone else did at “Geek Girl #1” played brilliantly by Joan Cusack. GG1 is a more memorable character, yet she doesn’t even have a name.
At least THE GEEK, the OG of geeks, receives an additional title aka Farmer Ted.
I always found the parts with GG1 hilarious, until July of 2020, when I observed my daughters spine X-Ray.
Reels of Geek Girl #1 played repeatedly in my head.
To make matters worse, the doctor (recommended by the pediatrician) never came in to speak with us. Instead I had find out from this nervous, pipsqueak physicians assistant. His beady, little eyes were peering over his mask. All I heard was custom brace, follow up every six months.
The nurse, not the doctor, calls to advise me “The doctor said that your daughter has to wear the brace 23 hours a day.”
Me: So you want ME to get my 12 year old preteen daughter who cannot tolerate a TAGtouching her body to wear a brace for twenty-three hours a day?!
Nurse: Yes. Okay then. Good luck. Call with questions…Buh bye now.
Now all of your inner-parental-bullshit-meters, may be saying, “get a new doctor”. It was clear she had to wear a brace, I already got the order. Yada yada yada…I had bigger issues at hand.
I had one kid starting high school, one starting 8th grade and the giant task of getting my daughter to wear the brace…
Let the battles begin.
Since she was supposed to wear the brace 23 hours a day, we were pretty much fighting all day long. She adamantly refused to wear it during school. Her argument: she already has braces to maintain, she has to wear a mask all day at school & she would have to remove the back brace to go to the bathroom and have someone help her put it back on. This is all during the peak of covid. I surrendered on that one.
Finally we were able to get her to wear it while sleeping.
She was miserable and angry. We attempted to have her go to counseling to process her emotions about scoliosis, she refused to talk. We attempted to have her go to physical therapy, called the Schroth Method for Scoliosis. When she had an appointment in the evening, she was a beast the entire day.
Her amount of tenacity was baffling.
My daughter was told at PT that “even if you wear the brace 23 hours a day, we cannot promise that you won’t have to have surgery.” After this, my daughter begged to have the surgery every minute of every day that she was awake. I would leave the house as much as possible, but not many places to go during quarantine.
July of 2020-July of 2022 the brace war continued. She grew five inches and her hip and shoulder shift was becoming visible, so we had to get a new brace. I finally met the doctor. He saunters in the office with his lab coat and I’m not kidding, wearing khakis with hardcore, Roadhouse cowboy boots.
At this moment, I was glad for the mask that hid my disgust at his arrogance. Cowboy boots in Chicago seemed so unprofessional and downright odd. He then tells us in a condescending manner that “since she only wore the brace while sleeping, she can throw the brace away because she needs surgery.” This was the final straw.
I was was ready for the surgery but no way in hell was I gonna let this drugstore cowboy touch my daughter. I delegated the “battle of the brace” to Dad to find a new doctor.
My daughter loves to tell tales of her father during this time… When her Dad “went full on Karen.”
Introducing the male version of Karen:
Maciej (pronounced Ma-Chea)
Well… after “shooting many messengers” debating with many doctors & pulling my daughter out of school countless days for appointments; Dad found a winner.
When it comes to your kids spine… “Going Maciej” is the only way to go, he got it done effectively & efficiently. No mercy.
Our daughter had the surgery May 30th, 2023 at Ann & Robert H. Lurie Children’s Hospital of Chicago. It was a success!
Overall, her new doctor, Dr. John Grayhack, was extremely smart, confident, sweet, funny & absolutely wonderful throughout this entire process.
Our daughter received exceptional nursing care, PT/OT and pain management/muscle relaxers.
She discharged on June 2nd. She had a rough three weeks at home with pain, not wanting to eat, medication withdrawal and exhaustion. She was instructed to walk twice a day and her body would adjust its own alignment. She was wiped after walks.
I told her pediatrician about the big dumb bohunk she referred me to and she deleted him from her system. She now refers to our doctor.
Follow up on July 10th with full release to normal activities. Just in time for her 16th birthday in August.
Sorry Jake Ryan, it is more important for her to love who she sees in the mirror.
P.S. I know some cool, fun, laid back Karen’s. Unfortunately your name is just an adjective for effect. Nothing personal.
I’ve been at a crossroads for some time, stuck in a moral dilemma.
I keep waiting for my sense of humor to arrive to discuss this topic in a jovial manner. However, some things just aren’t funny.
The Perk: My counselor really helped me when I was in high school, so I wanted to become a counselor when “I grew up” to help others. I also wanted to be a part in ending the stigma about mental health and substance abuse.
Yet, I’ve been involved in a personal mental health situation and found myself contributing to the stigma by wanting to “keep it quiet” and “not wanting anyone to know.”
When I caught myself saying “don’t tell anyone.” I realized the truth.
The real truth is…I have been afraid.
Afraid of being judged.
Because let’s face it, we all judge. We all have our own opinions, our assumptions. Our brain defaults to judgement even if it is not our intention. It is a conscious effort to be mindful of this all the time.
After all, “Other people’s opinion of YOU is none of your business.” (Salt-N-Pepa got it swinging again…)
I have accepted this as human nature and decided to stop being afraid of IT.
“IT” meaning the harsh reality, the fear of the judgement, the blame, the assumptions of other parents, adults & maybe even teens. That “we must have done something to mess our kid up.”
Now I am being 100% sincere, I am NOT looking for reassurance or for anyone to say that I didn’t screw up as a parent. I know I am a good mom. I know we are good parents. We did the best we could with what we had at the time. We all know there is no parent handbook for every situation. No matter how many books you read, you are never 100% prepared.
Why does Ruthie look like 39 year old Mrs.Roper instead of a high school student?
The Perk: Raising awareness to help other parents. This is a reminder that this could happen to anyone. My hope is that if anyone else is going through something similar, then perhaps this story would bring them comfort or direction.
When I caught myself saying “shh, don’t tell anyone” I realized, being quiet about this situation is a betrayal to myself.
It is also a betrayal to all those patients/clients I promised that they had nothing to be ashamed of. In order to break the mental health stigma, I have to overcome my own bias, my own self-stigma.
Despite my profession, addressing my own parental believe that this condition is a sign of personal weakness or that it should be able to be controlled without help. I had to let go of “that someone/something is to blame” or “it’s our fault.”
I realized that regardless of what the cause is, it happened.
So I’m just going to rip this off like a band-aid and blurt out my story.
We choose to admit our 17-year-old son to an outpatient partial hospitalization mental health and substance abuse program (8am-2pm) in the fall of 2022 for three weeks.
We didn’t wait for him to get “caught” by the school. We didn’t wait for him to be mandated to have an evaluation. We knew something was wrong.
In the spring of 2023, I had a call 911 on my son for suicidal ideation. An ambulance & paramedics came to our house. (My retired neighbors were so confused.:)
The Perk: I knew what to do, kept my cool throughout the crisis, and understood the process. Even if my son was bluffing, I wasn’t playin.
Later, we admitted our son to a locked, inpatient psychiatric unit for a depressive episode and marijuana-induced psychosis for 10 days. He then did the outpatient program 8am-2pm for another three weeks.
He hated us, despised us for atleast five days.
The ironic dilemma, I am a mental health counselor who has had to assist in admitting individuals who suffer from mental health problems to an inpatient psychiatric unit or an outpatient program.
On a personal level, I’m struggling with this. As a parent, I am in shock. I am confused. I thought if I did everything “right” as a parent, my kids would be okay. Secondly, I never thought marijuana was “that big of a deal” until I witnessed what happened. These concentrated vape pens are no joke and can be purchased easily at gas stations & vape shops without being carded. Good times.
I tell patients all the time that “Everything is going to be okay. Your health is the most important and if this was a medical problem, no one would be embarrassed; so you shouldn’t be. You should be proud of your courage that you got help.”
Yet there I was, feeling ashamed.
As I smashed onto a four-foot long cot in the ER waiting room, I remembered many of those parents I had to talk to, while they were attempting to sleep uncomfortably in ER chairs.
I found comfort in remembering the empathy I provided them for the pain I imagined them experiencing.
The Perk: Growth. Nothing matches the pain of being the one going through the actual hardship. No one could understand fully what it is like being on the other side of the situation, as the terrified parent, until you are in it.
I was reminded, you truly never know what a person is going through until you go through it yourself. You can imagine, but you do not know their story. It is so easy to pass judgement and assume.
However, we are all able to CHOOSE to be mindful and be aware of our own “human stuff”.
The Perk: I learned how to re-frame my thoughts. We do have control over our own thoughts and possess the ability to CHOOSE empathy and compassion. We can CHOOSE not to judge.
Our son is alive and well. He is not ashamed and is glad we got him help now. He is a lot more insightful, but still an impulsive teenager thou. 😉 We are taking things day by day, mostly great days.
The Perk: Even on the “bad” days, there are still good moments in every day.
P.S. Go ahead and judge away, I’m cool with it. I get it. You won’t fully understand unless it happens to you. I hope you never experience it. Also, the more you judge, gossip, assume & blame, you will continue to be a part of the mental health stigma.
Push play 😊
•I did not cause it•I cannot control it•I cannot cure it•
Felt compelled to share this informative article as a mom and also a mental health therapist. As a therapist, it’s easy to see other people’s issues. As a mom, things become cloudy. I can understand how any parent can become confused or unsure what to do. Nothing is black and white with kids and teens. Everything becomes gray: Is it a phase? Is it hormones?
As a parent, you don’t want to over-react or under-react. It’s tough to know the answer. Sometimes reading something in black and white can be helpful, like this article below.
Quillan Kelly-Dunn 