If Wounded Peacock (a very impressive yoga move for those who aren’t familiar) is your jam, then hooray for you. But, I’m talking about flexible thinking. I once worked with a man who had a precise 4-step routine to leave his house. If anything interrupted his routine, like someone asking him a question, he would

What’s Something You Love About Yourself? Or Like? Okay, maybe, Don’t Hate? “Everyone’s a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing it is stupid.” (unknown author mistakenly attributed to Einstein) You’re a winner. Your very existence means you’ve won the lottery of life. The

“I want someone to tell me the truth,” my patient said as he sat at his kitchen table. He’d had a stroke in the right hemisphere of his brain. Right brain strokes cause disorientation in place and time. “What’s the truth you want,” I asked? “Everyone tells me I am home, and I must admit this place

“How old are you? The eight-year-old boy in the swimming pool asked my nephew, Kevin. “Five.” said Kevin, “but I’m closer to eight.” “Duh, if you’re five, you’re not closer to eight.” the older boy scoffed. “Well, I’m closer to eight than I am to one.” said Kevin, adding, “And I don’t mean to hurt

You’re in a recovery program, perhaps working the steps. You’ve checked your list and crossed off the names of people you’ve made amends to. Things are going well and then your eyes fix on your fingers. They’re bitten to the quick nubby and sore. Your cuticles look destroyed and torn and you even spot a scab of dried blood. Crap

What is the difference between striving and thriving? The general understanding of the words is the difference between making strenuous effort and flourishing. To me it is the difference between getting clean and recovering. Both efforts are important. One got me to the gift of desperation; the other keeps me on my road to restoring my

“Happy Hour” has a complicated history of origin, but regardless of who and how (The French or the American Navy) there was a collective awareness that at a certain time of the day between 3-7 p.m. people are at the end of their will power. The end of their blood sugar. The end of working hard.

I stood on the playground in my green, parent-volunteer apron. Kids were eating, playing, running, sliding, screaming. A fifth grader carrying a lunch tray frantically ran toward me and then screeching to a halt. His eyes bulged. He looked like he was going to throw up. But there was no sound. Oh my God are you

    My friend’s daughter broke her wrist. I looked at her picture and immediately felt her pain and joined the chorus of others – “Ouch and poor baby!” But then I looked closely at the cast. Scrawled in red were the words: I HEAL FAST. What a concept. Broadcast “I heal quickly” to the world, to your

I am on the verge of a Borderline Personality Disorder diagnosis. When I faced disappointment today, I recognised something about myself that came out in this poem. The stereotype Borderline Personality Disorder sufferer is reactive outwardly. I am not. I wanted to share this. I live in words unspoken, the shore you see, gives no indication