“In order to understand the world, one has to turn away from it on occasion.” ― Albert Camus
“Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.” ― C.G. Jung
Though it’s not officially autumn yet, I feel the urge to go underground, to hibernate prematurely. Like caterpillars who cocoon in a chrysalis and emerge in a new form as a butterfly, it’s my desire to find a safe place to enable transformation.
The world seems like it’s becoming more threatening, whether it’s our natural world and the consequences of climate change, or our political environment and the actions and policies by those currently in power. On a personal level, things sometime happen to us — and for me — how I respond makes a difference in my emotional and spiritual health and serenity. While there are storms happening outside of me, there’s also turmoil and uncertainty stirring within.
Recovery has given me many tools. Fred Holmquist, Senior Twelve-Step Advisor for the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation at a recovery enrichment workshop I attended two years ago at Edgewood College stated, “We see things the way we are, not the way things are.” Today, I’m retreating and going underground at the hideout to take a look first, at how I am, before paying a lot of attention to the way things are.
From the first installment of the series, Dispatch from the Hideout
Now, before I go any further, it’s important that I share with you that my hideout is a virtual one. I don’t have a cabin in the woods, or a bunker in the basement, I only have my home, a 645 square foot apartment. It’s where I wake up in the morning, retreat at the end of the work day, hideout on the weekends when I’m writing or feeling introverted, and end my days, often falling asleep on the couch watching TV. Yeah, I’m that girl. I live alone and most days I’m happy with that choice.
This is the fourth in the series of Dispatch from the Hideout
Maybe I Should Talk to Someone
I recently binge-watched a series on Showtime, Couples Therapy. What made that viewing experience interesting to me is that I’m not currently in a committed relationship. As I’ve stated before, my most recent partnership of 15 years ended a dozen years ago. My last therapy relationship was 12 years ago with my therapist who I saw for 17 years, including extensive sabbaticals.
Though I’m not currently part of a couple, I enjoyed being a fly on the wall in the therapist’s office working with couples. Many of the issues addressed were topics that I could relate to and problems that we encountered in my relationship with my partner.
Though my former therapist has retired, she always encouraged me to return to therapy as needed; I’ll still take her advice. I contacted the clinic to obtain her contact info so I can ask for a referral. One of the many things I trusted about my therapist is she always practiced professional boundaries, even on those occasions when I would see her out in the community and wanted to make a more intimate connection. I’ll certainly trust her recommendation.
As in the past, during the self-help and recovery movement of the seventies and eighties, I again find myself on trend with the growing awareness of the benefits of therapy to 
nurture mental health and challenge the stigma of getting help. Social media, entertainment content, self-help Ted Talks and authors of best-selling books, including Brené Brown and Lori Gottlieb, are all spreading the message that it’s actually a healthy sign to reach out for help.
After a friend recommended the book, I picked up a copy of Maybe You Should Talk to Someone. From the author’s website, “Every year, nearly 30 million Americans sit on a therapist’s couch—and some of these patients are therapists. In her remarkable new book, Lori Gottlieb tells us that despite her license and rigorous training, her most significant credential is that she’s a card-carrying member of the human race. “I know what it’s like to be a person,” she writes, as a crisis causes her world to come crashing down.”
In addition to her book, Gottlieb answers questions from readers for The Atlantic in a column called Dear Therapist, plus a weekly column for New York Magazine’s, The Cut.
During the past week as I started drafting this essay, HuffPost began running a daily series of wellness articles on the topic of therapy (see related reading below). The series is interestingly entitled, You Should See Someone.
Okay, I will!
Premature Hibernation
I often retreat to my solitary life, isolating more as the seasons change, beginning late fall or early winter. I’m a social person and someone who values time for myself. I fall somewhere in the middle of the introvert/extrovert continuum, making me an ambivert. During the Midwestern winters I begin living the ‘mole life.’
This year, the urge to hibernate was premature. As early as August, I began scheduling more time during my three-day weekends to write, to rest, to reserve time for myself, though I continued to fulfill my commitment to spend time with family and friends on one-on-ones and the occasional group activity.
I spent less time at larger group events which gave me pleasure in the past including, The Dane County Farmer’s Market on the Square, the neighborhood and music festivals of the summer, the Art Fair on the Square, Taste of Madison, Pride celebrations, and the list goes on. This weekend is the Willy Street Fair, my favorite Madison festival of the summer, and I’m already feeling ambivalent about whether I want to attend.
Dane County Farmers Market on the Capitol Square
Now, when I look at the possible causes for my premature hibernation, a couple of reasons quickly rise to the top of the list. The first is I’m grieving. My sister Cindy died in January, on my birthday no less, of Stage IV cancer. Unlike the deaths of our mother three years ago and our sister Roz, seven years ago, there were indicators of physical or mental health issues which gave us time to prepare emotionally for their passing. With Cindy, it was less than a year from her diagnosis to her death. Cindy and I also had a complicated relationship based on our family roles. In the end, I don’t feel like I had enough time to make amends and work through the unfinished business with her.
The death of family members and friends, including my AA sponsor, Jane Rowe, have reminded me of my own mortality. My overall health is generally stable with the the help of preventative care, but like many Midwestern Americans, I’m overweight, being treated for hypertension and Type II Diabetes, and suffer from arthritis affecting my mobility, and the list goes on. This year also began on New Year’s Day with a trip in an ambulance to the ER with a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop. It was the first of three ER visits for nosebleeds, plus follow-up doctor appointments yielding no definitive diagnosis for the cause. I spent the rest of winter undergoing cataract surgery in both eyes.
Gratefully, I’m a member of a Death and Dying Group, a peer support group that’s more about life and living. We check-in with each other monthly, read excerpts and books on the subject, watch documentaries and Ted Talks, and design the end of life that we wish to have, at least the parts we can control. Even in my creative life as a showrunner and co-producer of a web series, Hotel Bar, the themes deal with the end of our lives, how our lives are judged, and the legacy we leave.
Capping off the grief associated with the loss of loved ones, declining health as I age, and an awareness of my own mortality, other factors contribute to my situational depression. The politics of the last three years, including tragic gun violence and domestic terrorism, the unfair treatment of women and children, stripping our rights to make decisions about our own bodies, the plight and separation of immigrant families, plus income inequalities that impact access to healthcare and the rising debt of a higher education, weigh heavily on our daily lives and sense of well-being.
Illustration Credit: Creative Commons
Since I’m a baby boomer, I’m adept at ‘naval-gazing.’ When I find myself isolating too much and experience a one-way musing with myself, it’s time to talk with someone. I’m lucky, I’ve spent many hours as the recipient of the benefits of the power of circles and time spent on the therapist couch.
An excerpt from my memoir Perfectly Flawed when I re-entered therapy after the dissolution of my first sober relationship and the beginning of a 17-year therapy relationship:
Six years after I stopped drinking and when my first sober relationship ended, I was sitting again in the office of a new therapist. While I waited for her to get situated, pen in hand and notebook opened to a blank page, I imagined that she wrote the date and the words, “Client: Linda Lenzke, initial intake appointment,” I looked at the table in front of me and took an inventory of the objects: Kleenex, Koosh ball, magic wand with sparkly stars and floating glitter, and a plastic windup toy; I thought, these must be the tools of therapy. I smiled to myself.
The therapist looked up after her fountain pen stopped gliding across the page and asked, “So, what brought you here today?” I immediately began crying, sobbing in fact, grateful for the Kleenex in front of me. The therapist did not change expression when she asked her follow-up question, “Do you know why you are crying?” I didn’t know the answer, only that I was where I needed to be, that I was at the beginning of a journey of discovery and restoration, that I was feeling something; emotions are energy in motion and the tears were evidence of the flow, the waves of feelings I would first experience in my body then learn to name with words.
It took me ten years of sitting on that couch, talking, crying, consuming Kleenex, picking up the magic wand, praying for insight and understanding, squeezing the Koosh ball, digging deep, winding up the toy and watching it walk, then tip over, winding it up again only to walk and fall over, repeating the cycle until I finally learned how to be sad, mad, then glad.
Time to exit the hideout and talk to someone.
Full Disclosure
As I’ve shared before in Mixed Metaphors, Oh My! I’ve journaled regularly for the past 12 years. I title my journals, and the one I began this month is called, Full Disclosure. I consider myself an open person ― an open book to mix metaphors. Some of my friends and family think I overshare in my blog and on social media. It’s probably true, however, as a person in recovery from alcohol, substances, and relationships, I find this axiom to be true, I’m only as sick as my secrets.
Opening the last closet door and walking into the light.
Having said that, one more reason for my return to therapy is to prepare to open one more closet door for full disclosure. I’m not ready to say much more, other than as I write my memoir, Perfectly Flawed, there’s more to my personal story and history to reveal.
Stay tuned…
Related Reading from Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!
Another Dispatch from the Hideout
Hibernation & the Holidays: Retreat to the Hideout
Drinking from a Glass Half-Full
Conversations w/My Next Girlfriend: Episode 10
Related Reading on Therapy
Why We Launched You Should See Someone
You Should See Someone, A Guide to Doing Therapy
How Do I Know If I Need Therapy?
12 Things You Should Know Before Finding a Therapist
Maybe You Should Talk to Someone
35 Hilarious Tweets About Going to Therapy
The Couples Therapy Obsession: How Watching Other Couples Fight Makes Us Feel Better About Ourselves
One of your better recent offerings! I empathize. Lewis.