Voicelessness and Emotional Survival Message Board
Voicelessness and Emotional Survival => Voicelessness and Emotional Survival Message Board => Topic started by: Dr. Richard Grossman on October 04, 2011, 07:11:10 PM
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Hi everybody,
The theme for this year's Rosh Hashanah/Yom Kippur services was "Passages". Here's my talk:
Passages
(For Louis, Frances, Mitzi, and M. [my daughter])
A few months ago my 26 year old daughter, M., e-mailed me a link to the Google street view photograph of a 6 story brick apartment building in Brooklyn. It was not the townhouse in Brooklyn where she lives. Rather, the photo showed a rather ordinary and peaceful looking six story brick apartment building on a busy city street. It was two doors down from the house my maternal great-grandfather, great-grandmother, grandmother, and her two younger siblings lived. The reason M. sent it to me was that it was the building from which my great-grandfather, Louis, then in his mid 40’s, jumped to his death.
Most people would look at the photo briefly, think to themselves, “poor man”, and move on. After all, it was almost 100 years ago. But not me. Somehow, I’m drawn to pain and suffering. Or, it’s drawn to me. For example, the other day I was driving home from the dog park and I saw a road sign that said, “blind driveway ahead” and my heart sank and I immediately said to myself “Oh my god—not another one. Can’t anyone do anything? And then I catch myself.
So, I look at the photograph and zoom in to look up at the top of the building. (I’m not sure Google had this use in mind when they invented streetview technology) And suddenly I’m Louis, my great-grandfather, standing on the edge. All I feel is inescapable pain. I don’t look down because it’s too scary, and it may stop me from doing what I need to do. And I make the final decision for the 1000th time to end my suffering. I close my eyes, and either by will or fate, I jump.
I suppose you might think that that’s not a good thing, to respond to a photograph in this way. And you might ask (as my psychiatrists did in my two failed therapies): so where did you get that---that, shall we call it, extreme sensitivity?
When my mother was dying 17 years ago one day she said to me, before eating breakfast, and in a “by the way” tone of voice: “You know, people in my family committed suicide.” And I said, “I know”, and to prove my point, I listed all of them: “Louis, Nana Frances’s sister, Edna, and Edna’s son—I can’t remember his name—and Louis’s son Norman refused a life-saving operation.” And my mother said: “Norman didn’t refuse a life-saving operation.” And I said: “Well that’s what I was told at the time.” And then, without pause, we moved on to the scrambled eggs.
My mother, Mitzi, was intellectual, tough, and secretive. She rarely shared anything personal unless there was a particular reason and certainly, nothing ever about her vulnerability. However, she always tried to do the right thing, and dying, she felt obligated to tell me something that she had never wanted to talk about. I knew, and she knew I knew, it was not about Louis and his children. It was about her. What she was telling me was that she had often felt despair during her adult life, that it was an inherited trait, and she knew she had passed it on to me.
So, here I am holding the bag. And now you know why seeing a sign that says “blind driveway ahead” affects me the way it does. You might think it strange, but I would not trade the bag for anything. Not that it hasn’t caused me a great deal of suffering. It has. I know what Louis was feeling on the roof. But the passage of genes from Louis to my grandmother, to my mother, and now to me has affected my life in positive ways as well. My extreme sensitivity has allowed me to make attachments to my family, my patients, and a small number of friends in unusual ways. These attachments are, I think, the best part of life. Of course they also create an obligation to stick around. Sometimes I think about my grandmother, Frances, 16 at the time, looking up at the roof of the apartment building from which her father jumped. I imagine what it must have been like for her traversing that same sidewalk for years afterwards.
I also think about my daughter, M., and my genetic passage to her. She and I have had long talks about what it is like for each of us being in the world--how it is the same and how it is different. These talks I will always remember and cherish.
And I think about Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”, a poem about choosing whether or not to continue living. Frost and his children faced very difficult genetic passages. Frost survived. His son, Carol, did not. You may remember the last stanza of the poem:
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”
Have a good year.
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Thanks, Dr. G. Many things to process before I can say anything.
Happy New Year.
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Hi Richard
for a non-American, can you explain what “blind driveway ahead” means? I don't understand why you say 'Can’t anyone do anything'.
It sounds to me like a sign indicating that someone may drive out of a concealed entrance/exit?
Yours, confused.
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Hi Bones and Freshwater,
Thanks for responding.
Bones, I’m glad there is something in the piece to process---that’s always my wish. (The few movies I enjoy are the ones that I think about the next day…)
Freshwater: “blind driveway ahead” means: you’ll soon pass a driveway where exiting drivers won’t be able to see you coming---so be careful. Can't anyone do anything to stop driveways from going blind?
Richard
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I like the subtle humor you wove throughout your speech. :) I like other aspects of it as well, but that you can bind up that deep (and what could be exclusively depressive sensitivity) with humor is wonderful.
Happy New Year!
tt
PS And I sure hope I didn't inadvertently assign humor where you intended none.
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Hi tt,
What humor? :wink:
Richard
P.S. Thanks for your comment!
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:lol:
tt
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Can't anyone do anything to stop driveways from going blind?
We have mirrors that stop the blindness...
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Hi Bones and Freshwater,
Thanks for responding.
Bones, I’m glad there is something in the piece to process---that’s always my wish. (The few movies I enjoy are the ones that I think about the next day…)
Freshwater: “blind driveway ahead” means: you’ll soon pass a driveway where exiting drivers won’t be able to see you coming---so be careful. Can't anyone do anything to stop driveways from going blind?
Richard
You're very welcome, Richard!
One of the things I am processing is the similarity in our family histories. Your maternal ancestor committed suicide. My maternal great-great-grandfather also committed suicide even though, back in 1873, the official ruling would never openly state that it was a suicide. (The newspaper report of the inquest ruled it an "accident" even though the witnesses described the incident differently...he deliberately put himself in harm's way.) It also helped me to understand that alcoholism could be traced back through several generations along with other issues that were kept "hush-hush" for years. It only proved to me the saying: "Sick as your secrets"......
Bones
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Richard,
I feel very sad to think of you feeling despair.
Sending you a gentle shell.
A friend of mind gave me an image once to try:
Imagine that you are surrounded by a thicket of roses, in the most beautiful color you can imagine.
All the blossoms, thick and fragrant, are turned toward you. Softness and beauty surround you completely.
The thorns are on the outside, protecting you.
(You can safely reach out. No harm can reach in.)
Hops
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Deleted.
tt
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Thanks, Hops. I'll give it a try when I need it next! I hope it helps you too, given what's going on with your daughter...
Richard
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To me, only people "create an obligation to stick around".
(I'm not interested in writing a great book, or launching a new tech gadget, or being 'recognised' for my 'contribution' - I say these things because I've known people who actually didn't care too much about other people, and those things were way more important to them.)
I suppose when you get past that particular obligation - no: actually there is no obligation to stick around at all. It's a choice, just like a lot of things, if we're lucky enough to have that choice and not have it made for us.
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One of the things I am processing is the similarity in our family histories. Your maternal ancestor committed suicide. My maternal great-great-grandfather also committed suicide even though, back in 1873, the official ruling would never openly state that it was a suicide. (The newspaper report of the inquest ruled it an "accident" even though the witnesses described the incident differently...he deliberately put himself in harm's way.) It also helped me to understand that alcoholism could be traced back through several generations along with other issues that were kept "hush-hush" for years. It only proved to me the saying: "Sick as your secrets"......
Bones
Hi Bones,
When you see a traceable genetic line, it is quite powerful. It has been very important to me not to keep it secret from my daughter. As I mentioned in my edited piece (I actually give the talk on Friday evening), the talks I have had with her about genetics and how similar/different our experiences of the world have been are very important to both of us. With my patients as well, I try to counter the negative passage of genetics (and, of course, prior experience) with the positive passage of feelings, love, and attachment, although for some people this is not enough.
Richard
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A friend of mind gave me an image once to try:
Imagine that you are surrounded by a thicket of roses, in the most beautiful color you can imagine.
All the blossoms, thick and fragrant, are turned toward you. Softness and beauty surround you completely.
The thorns are on the outside, protecting you.
(You can safely reach out. No harm can reach in.)
What if somebody has a sprayer full of Roundup?
Or some garden shears?
Not to mention the bees.
And if you have to go to the bathroom how do you get back in?
mud
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Ohh poo, Mud. Let me clarify:
I KNOW that was an extremely feminine image. Contemplated it quite consciously and decided, so what. If one just takes it for the actual idea....it's kind of powerful. For any person. Even Mud Bunyan.
Snicker away. Hummpphhh. Worth contemplating what's scary about that kind of comfort...
I think for you (if Doc G doesn't mind a wee hijack of a sober thread...) Mud, I'd suggest a bubble bath. Perhaps with lavender.
If you prefer some image like an armored Transformer bulleting away, have at it.
They've never done any any good except in the short-term.
I prescribe a wall of roses.
Mystics used to talk about whiffs of fragrance as a spiritual message. Visitations of the holy.
Hops
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Dr. G:
Tonight is Yom Kippur. May your fast be an easy one.
Bones
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Hi Bones,
Thanks! Actually, (shhhhhhhh!) I don't fast. I try to apologize for all my sins as they occur. I'm the kinda person who hates going into debt.
Hi tt,
I'll get to your question tonight (after the service) or tomorrow, probably as I'm munching on a bacon cheeseburger.
Richard
P.S. I didn't say that about the bacon cheeseburger...I did???? O.K. I apologize.
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if Doc G doesn't mind a wee hijack of a sober thread...
Judging by his last comment, it would not appear so. :D
mud
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Hops, one of my visualisations includes Mud, with weapons, to protect me.
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Okay, I got it...
Mud, with roses in his teeth and lavender draped over his ears, rising out of the bubble bath like King Kong (but armor instead of fur)...defending us all against the Nplanes buzzing around our heads...
but he shows us they're just skeeters...
Yup, this notion is definitely working.
:)
Hops
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Hate to disillusion you guys but I wasn't even too good at protecting my own family from the creeps.
I hope I'm better at getting back some of what they stole, although there is no recompense for a lot of what was taken from us.
mud
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I beg to differ....
you may not have been able to prevent the first attacks (who can?)--
but you
REALLY
FOUGHT
BACK.
And that is being protective.
And a success.
(((((((((((Mud))))))))))))
Hops
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Hi Bones,
Thanks! Actually, (shhhhhhhh!) I don't fast. I try to apologize for all my sins as they occur. I'm the kinda person who hates going into debt.
Hi tt,
I'll get to your question tonight (after the service) or tomorrow, probably as I'm munching on a bacon cheeseburger.
Richard
P.S. I didn't say that about the bacon cheeseburger...I did???? O.K. I apologize.
LOLOLOL!!!! Thanks for the laugh, Dr. G! I needed that! :lol:
Bones
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Hi tt,
Here are some answers to your questions:
Could you talk a little about attachments vs relationships? What is the difference? I'm trying to decipher whether I have attachments or relationships or a mixture and if a relationship can be a part of an attachment? Am I doing relationships well? Are my attachments healthy?
Most of us have “relationships” with many people, but attachments to relatively few. I think it’s a matter of degree—how much does the person affect you (both when you are with them and not with them) and how much would it affect you if they left permanently or died? The people we are “attached” to have much larger effects on us—and I suspect there is attachment circuitry in our brain that is different from the typical relationship circuitry. I also suspect that the attachment circuitry is part of many animals for survival reasons. If parents did not form these attachments to children and children to parents, the children—and their genes-- (at least in the human species) would be far less likely to survive.
It is interesting to note that Buddhism sees attachments as pain inducing (in part because they are always—ultimately—temporary), and through meditation people learn to reduce the affects of inborn attachment circuitry, and substitute other brain pathways.
So, are attachments healthy? Desirable? And if so, with whom? How emotionally and psychologically independent/self-sufficient should one strive to be? In my talk, I gave my personal answer to these questions, but each person must answer them for themselves.
By unusual (attachments), I'm thinking you mean it in a very practical sense (like perhaps forming a bond with one of your buds at the dog park) as opposed to unusual in a strictly psychological sense?
Actually, I suspect, given this particular dichotomy, I’m referring to the latter. I cannot talk about my attachments to my patients (for obvious reasons) except to say that (and I think I’ve said this before on the Board) up until this year, none of my long-term patients has ever referred to me another person except for a beloved family member—and that’s only happened twice I think (and with some ambivalence). Now, that may mean my patients feel they got stuck with a lousy therapist, and they don’t want to inflict the same on others they know. But I think (and hope) that what it means is that 1) they don’t want interference in the relationship from other people revealing information about them, of their revealing information about other I know, and mostly 2) they don’t want to share me. It is the second reason that my patients have talked about—and this, IMO, has a lot to do with unusual “attachment”. I say unusual because, in my experience, most people in therapy who are happy with their therapist, if asked, are more than willing to recommend their therapist to a friend. (BTW, if any therapists-to-be ever read this post: mine is a lousy business model.)
Re: unusual attachments to family/friends, I’ll just give one example. I e-mailed M. (my daughter) a copy of my talk this year (above). She got back to me almost immediately, said it was “great”, talked about the importance of genetic “passages”, told me that she had found on-line many of the family graves in Brooklyn, and suggested we do a walking tour together--a kind of father-daughter “morbid family bonding” experience.
Also, I've tried to find one of your posts from about two years ago where you mentioned that your daughter lived not far from the burial sight of her grandparents. I remember the comment you made about it being right humorous, something to do with her visiting them. I couldn't find the right word to get the browser to pull it up. Do you remember the one I'm talking about?
Sure. That was on the first page of the lovely Daphne Merkin thread:
http://www.voicelessness.com/disc3//index.php?topic=9595.0
BTW, the mausoleum I refer to in that post belongs to my father’s side of the family--another stop on the walking tour!
Richard
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Richard
suggested we do a walking tour together--a kind of father-daughter “morbid family bonding” experience.
next time she visits?
(I asked for something similar, although not morbid, a revisiting of my very early life places, shared places. It didn't happen.)
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Hi Freshwater,
Sorry, I wasn't clear. My daughter lives in Brooklyn, NY--and the cemeteries are in Brooklyn and Queens, NY (both part of New York City). So, it would be the next time I visit her. BTW, I have never been to the cemeteries in question, nor do I know where they are, so she would be the tour guide based on her research. I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to visit the places that were important to you...
Richard
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Almost all of my people are buried in two cemeteries. Almost all of my dead relatives are buried in two cemeteries. The cemeteries are less than 1/4 mile apart. They were purposely put on high places and they are rural. Depending on the time of year and the weather, you can sometimes see one of them from a mile or so away. It is beautiful. As a matter of course, country people like myself often visit the cemeteries where their kin are buried. I have a cousin whose hobby is archiving burial sites.
tt
TT,
Your cousin sounds like she's into genealogy, which is a fun hobby! I need to find a bumper sticker that says: "I brake for cemeteries." Other family historians will understand.
Bones
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Hi Freshwater,
Sorry, I wasn't clear. My daughter lives in Brooklyn, NY--and the cemeteries are in Brooklyn and Queens, NY (both part of New York City). So, it would be the next time I visit her. BTW, I have never been to the cemeteries in question, nor do I know where they are, so she would be the tour guide based on her research. I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to visit the places that were important to you...
Richard
I think I didn't read too well Richard (sorry)! Thanks for your words. It's just difficult for me to even find them on my own. Letting go is a constant, it seems.
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Hi tt,
I think the Merkin article generated irritability/conflict—so I didn’t take your response personally. We do have a wonderful group of people here—thank you for your kind words.
“Maybe I didn’t want to share you.”
Even on a message board, if you make an "attachment" with a person, I think it can be hard...
Richard
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Hi Dr. G:
Thank you for sharing this "passage" of your life. Like others here, it prompted memories and thoughts. I can clearly identify with the story. There were two aspects of your story which I found especially inspiring. I think it must have provided some measure of comfort (however small) that your mother was able to share (or at least infer) during her last days the kind of impact that a history of family suicide had on her life. Perhaps it added a level of understanding to you about your life...perhaps not. But it is the kind of honest conversation that rarely occurs when dealing with N parents. The second was the fact that somehow you were still able to find and maintain attachments in your life. That is huge.
I identified clearly with your story. There was suicide in my family history as well...not to mention depression My uncle committed suicide but no one spoked about it. At the time, my uncle's teen daughters blamed my dad for not doing more. Much later in llife, they had an honest conversation with my dad, who had said he tried talking to my uncle about getting help. But I'm not sure how hard he worked at it. My family, on both sides, has a history of turning the other way, keeping secrets and generally ignoring issues that are really important.
I have been suicidal in my life as well. I know in my heart that I'm capable of it. When I am sinking to that level, I try to do things to keep myself safe----like coming to this board and either sharing or lurking. There was a time I came close. I was online trying to explain how I was feeling on a forum....(not one like this). One of the online members (who was young and did not understand either suicide or depression) called the police. I found two local police at my door, which my N mom answered. The police checked my computer and asked if I was feeling suicidal. When they left, my Nmom responded with such anger at me. She screamed, "Whatever it is, just fix it!" It was all about her being humiliated by the local police visit. She, I know, would never ever have the conversation with me that yours had with you.
I, too, experience a deep sense of empathy and sensitivity.....especially for painful events or about people who are suffering. I suppose it is just who I am. It is good and bad. It makes me more compassionate....but it also tends to make me more vulnerable to situations where people take advantage of it. No one in my family, as far as I could tell, inherited this "empathy or sensitivity" gene, nor my predisposition to depression.
I see myself often, figuratively, of the situation you described of someone standing on the roof of a high-rise building contemplating jumping. I experienced that same feeling even as I read your description of the event. I understand that feeling even as I grieve it.
In the end, it is a gift to be able to pass on to others the willingness to talk openly about this deep sense of despair we feel. It is only now, after many years of struggling, that I understand this kind of despair is not felt by everyone...in fact, by relatively few people. As such, others are often incapable of understanding. For those who do, like those who come to this board, it is such a comfort to be able to share our common understanding.
Thanks for sharing your "passage".
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Hi sunblue,
Thank you for your wonderful comment. I’m just able now to get back to it, given the events of the past couple weeks. I wanted to respond to one thought that you had in your last paragraph (although many others deserve equal attention):
“It is only now, after many years of struggling, that I understand this kind of despair is not felt by everyone...in fact, by relatively few people. As such, others are often incapable of understanding.”
Even as a young adult, I thought the same way. I assumed everyone felt what I felt. But people are very different, and there are actually very few with the blessing/curse of extreme sensitivity (yes, despair is part of this). And even fewer are able to use this trait productively in their lives. Most of my favorite writers had this trait. I mentioned Robert Frost in my talk, but I am fortunate to live close to the cemetery where Eugene O’Neill is buried (Forest Hills in Boston). Even luckier—it is a cemetery that allows dogs, so Hildy, Beau, and I sometimes go there to walk the beautiful grounds (Beau swims—on-leash of course—in the pond), and I always look for O’Neill’s grave as a reminder of the connection between sensitivity, art, and human suffering. Like Frost, O’Neill survived his extreme sensitivity, but his son, Eugene Jr. did not. He committed suicide at 40. (O’Neill’s daughter Oona, of course, married Charlie Chaplin when she was 18 and Chaplin was O’Neill’s age--54).
Always, always, we (the sensitive) must try to make the best of things, help sensitive others do the same—and do both with as much grace as possible (sometimes, an impossibility). At least, that is my thought of the day…
Best,
Richard
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((((((((((((((((((Richard)))))))))))))))))))