If people are consistently pissing you off, you could move, or unfriend, or repost, or complain - or you could unplug, go outside, and look for the bright spots. There are lots of bright spots in this crazyass world :-)

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Several years ago, on a Thursday morning, I decided to take our dog Penny (rescue, mostly redbone coonhound) for a run. Less than a mile into the run, a neighbor’s dog busted through their invisible fence and lunged at Penny. She nimbly darted out of the way, so the golden retriever’s teeth landed in my hip. I don’t really remember how we got away from our attacker, just that we did, and ended up at the local Urgent Care getting a tetanus shot (fortunately the dog was up to date on rabies shots). 

For the next couple of days I was on an emotional rollercoaster. I would cry for no reason, snap at my husband and kids, and alternate between feeling restless and feeling lethargic and depressed. Bewildered by my uncharacteristic volatility, I called a friend of mine who trains dogs for a living. He immediately knew what was wrong. “Susanne, you have PTSD. The reaction you are having is totally normal. You were attacked by an animal, and even though you know you are safe, your body still has a lot of stress hormones to cycle out. You should be fine in a few days.”

I went for a run (without Penny, avoiding the attacker, and now with pepper spray handy). It didn’t help. Normally my workouts are great at helping me feel calm and happy, but I felt no better. On Sunday I was teaching yoga and I didn’t really feel like it, but it was my gig, with my loyal crew, and I could not not show. When I teach, I do the class with the students. So I showed up, did my usual thing, starting with a dynamic warm-up, working the core, some balancing and stretching, ending in some mindful breathing and relaxation. And suddenly I realized at the end of it that I felt completely back to my normal self! I stayed that way - it was as if the one hour class had allowed my body to flush out the crazy-making hormones and my central nervous system to get back to baseline. I had no idea how this had happened, but suddenly I understood why so many clients had told me that they felt calmer after my classes than they did with anything else in their self-care and/or therapeutic programs.

And so began my voracious investigation into yoga for depression, anxiety and trauma. I read books, took training courses, got certifications, listened to podcasts, watched videos and webinars, and eventually landed in another Master’s program, where I am now (MEd Clinical Mental Health Counseling). I have worked in addiction treatment centers, as well as taught classes that included survivors of school shootings, military combat, abuse. One of the things I have learned is that many people who survive trauma (a friend of mine who works in mental health says that anyone who survives 2020 can be considered a trauma survivor!) don’t think of themselves as trauma survivors, especially when they are somewhere like the treatment center for First Responders, where I have the privilege of teaching. I remember when I first realized this, a firefighter who had been in some pretty awful situations at work, not to mention the stuff he endured as a kid in an abusive home, tried to downplay his trauma. “My stuff is nothing compared to Joe’s,” he said. 

My little dog attack was really not a big deal compared to so much else people go through (including myself at other times in my life). And yet, it had a real effect on my physiology and mental health, and I now understand why. I now understand why trauma comparison is actually missing the mark. 

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This stress arousal mechanism doesn’t differentiate between a set of golden retriever teeth in the hip, and something far more catastrophic, or for that matter, going to a job every day where your boss is an asshole. If you are in a situation where you feel helpless, powerless, and you’re not in control, this is enough for your situation to be categorized as trauma. The part of your brain that activates all of those incredible, life-saving activities and processes that equip you to escape the sabre-tooth tiger does not stop and check in with your rational thinking part to see if this is really a life-or-death situation. And this makes sense back when the human blueprint was created, because taking time for a mental board meeting would mean sure death. 

This is important to understand (and I am definitely giving a super brief, cursory explanation here; for an incredibly thorough, fascinating explanation pick up Widen the Window by Elizabeth A. Stanley, PhD). Playing the trauma comparison game is not helpful. In fact, it can be really harmful. A few years ago I was having lunch with my friend Jeremy Richman. His daughter Avielle was a first-grader murdered at the Sandy Hook Elementary School on December 14, 2012. Eight years ago today, as I sit here writing this. Jeremy and I met for lunch regularly, as I was helping with some stuff with The Avielle Foundation he and his wife had set up to help understand and prevent violence. I had met him soon after my cousin died by suicide, and we spent hours talking about violence, depression, grief, trauma - as well as really cool stuff like our love for running, how exercise and mindfulness change the brain, etc.. This one day I was feeling really sad. But I felt weird telling him how I felt, and he sensed it. He said, “Susanne, your trauma may be different from mine but it is still trauma. I can’t stand it when people don’t want to share their bad days with me. We all have bad days. Just because yours isn’t because your kid was murdered, and mine was, doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here for you.” I realized then how further isolating trauma can be, when we make assumptions that someone doesn’t want to hear about our stuff, or that we don’t think we deserve their empathy, because it’s “not as bad” as their situation. 

Life is hard. For some people, for whatever reason, life is harder. Right now we are closing out 2020, which will definitely go down in history as the greatest shitshow trainwreck awakening of modern times. For many of us, things have been disruptive as work was moved home or ended, school was moved online or in-person but in really bizarre ways, socializing stopped, trips canceled, and toilet paper and sanitizer became black market items. For many, true hardship has occurred, as well as tragic loss. Even if we did not experience anything we consider comparatively catastrophic, this year’s disruptions were novel, unexpected, unpredictable, uncontrollable, and feel like a threat to our survival for many. The good news, though, is there actually are things we can do to recover from this disruption, and the sooner we start, the better. I think one of the most important first steps is to recognize that this has been quite a year, and no matter what, we are all in some way altered by it. The next thing is to consider how we are handling things. Are we drinking booze every or most nights? Are we angrier than usual at our kids? Do we get migraines? Have we gained or lost weight? Are we sharing lots of opinionated stuff on social media? Did we stop working out? Are we being unfaithful in our relationship? Is the Amazon Prime van at our house more often than the regular mail carrier? Have we stopped socializing even virtually? Do we dread Monday mornings? Are we sleeping less than 7-8 hours on a regular basis? Are streaming platforms running out of shows to watch? Does our back hurt? Do we have digestive issues? Autoimmune conditions like chronic fatigue syndrome and fibromyalgia? Do we snap easily? Are we sure that everyone who doesn’t agree with us is an idiot/asshole and we should unfriend them? Are we avoiding intimacy by working/drinking/exercising/eating etc more? Do we feel disconnected from the people around us? Do we chase intense experiences? Do we take crazy risks? Do we regularly do stuff we know we "shouldn't" and we can't imagine taking a year- or month- or week- or day-long break from? These are all some of the symptoms that it may be a good idea to talk with someone about what’s going on. They can be signs of trauma, from this year and/or from previous incidents and situations. And fortunately, recovery is certainly possible. 

To learn more about trauma and recovery resources, here are some places to start:

Widen the Window, Elizabeth A. Stanley, PhD
In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, Gabor Mate, MD
The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk
Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma by Peter Levine
Robyn Brickel, MA, LMFT has an amazing blog
TED Talk by Nadine Burke Harris, MD: How Childhood Trauma Affects Health Across a Lifetime

If you can do some yoga, please check out my videos on YouTube, like this one for a healthy back:

And please, reach out. If you are thinking, “this isn’t real trauma, compared to______” don’t believe that part. It’s the part that is trying to protect you from something, but it hasn’t been updated with the latest information. Reach out to me, a therapist, a trusted friend. ​

Today my dog, Bruno, and I each had a PR. Bruno ran 5 miles with me - his longest yet! We started running together this fall, as the weather got cooler and I was curious to see how he would do if I sped up our daily walks and got him running. The veterinarian and the dogsitter had commented on his girth, so I figured he needed a bit more exercise. So we started with some walk-runs and ended up regularly running 3-4 miles. It has turned into an almost daily morning ritual for us, no matter how cold or how rainy. Sure, my MapMyRun average speed has gone down since I can’t be bothered to stop the tracker for his pit stops, and I often end up running with a poop bag in one hand. But especially the last several months, with so much heaviness in the world, I have found that this treasured ritual helps me stay motivated to run. Bruno gets so excited when he sees me putting on my Hoka running shoes! And many of the motorists who pass us can’t help but smile. I have been told that he looks like he’s grinning as we run.

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“I think that guy and girl are struggling.” Bill, my husband, was watching a pair who looked like a father and teen daughter, as they tried to swim back to shore. We were at a beautiful beach in an off-the-beaten path location, where we could easily socially distance from others. There were no lifeguards. We had rented a stand-up paddleboard (SUP) and I had taken it out a little earlier, but it was a windy day and the current made the experience challenging. I decided that my 30 minute ride was it for the day and nobody else would go out, as it felt too dangerous. I had been forewarned by our AirBnB owner that this particular beach, that seemed so innocuous with the beautiful sandbar, had a dangerous rip current and a few people had drowned quite recently. 

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When I was in 7th grade (in Mexico City), things got so bad for me that I started to feel that my only and best option may be to end it all. I don’t even remember if “suicide” was part of my vocabulary at that point (I didn’t know what “homosexual” meant until 9th grade; it was the early 80s in Mexico and there was a lot you just didn’t talk about). I sometimes talked with the guidance counselor at school and while I remember him being super sweet, I don’t remember him being in the least bit helpful as I felt my world closing in on me.

The source of my depression was mostly at school. I had 3 best friends - SS, AD and SM. SS and I had gotten closer and SM was threatened by this and she manipulated SS and AD into turning on me. It didn’t stop there. The poison seeped into the rest of the grade and culminated in a scene that still makes me cringe: it was the class Spelling Bee and whoever won would go on to represent the school at the U.S. Embassy, against other schools. The winner of that would go to the National Spelling Bee in Washington, DC. The competition was in the final rounds and only one other girl and I remained. And then I lost. And the entire grade boo’ed me. It was absolutely awful. At the same time, I was being bullied outside of school, at my ballet academy, by a schoolmate and her younger sister. While I was in class, being tortured by the sadistic London School of Ballet teacher, MN and her sister XN would be in the locker room destroying my precious Hello Kitty stuff that my dad had brought me from the U.S. on one of his business trips. If they caught me in the changing room or headed to the bathroom and no one was looking, they would actually hurt me physically. 

It wasn’t bad enough that I had awful acne. And braces. In fact, I had a head gear. The orthodontist told me to wear it 24 hours a day, remove only for meals and shower, and I did. When I returned to him after 3 months, he was shocked and said I didn’t need to wear it any more as my teeth had progressed faster than he had ever seen. He asked me, “how often do you wear it?” I blinked and replied, “24 hours a day, like you told me to do.” He shook his head, “No one has ever actually followed my instructions before you.” So, no more head gear. But then there was the fact that I was in a school where anyone remotely relevant at least had Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. I, on the other hand, had to wear polyester. My dad worked in textiles and his clients made fabric so periodically, we would go to local clothing companies and be able to get lots of free clothes. The problem is they were all polyester, because that is the fiber my dad's company made. I still remember the 100% polyester pants I regularly wore, that were this really sandpapery texture that even today, as I think of them, make my skin crawl. I had these pants in various colors. I think I just realized where my textural issues may have begun (which continue today).

The torment at school continued. As did my growing feelings of loneliness and basically feeling like a loser. Even now as I think back to those times and how I felt, I feel this intense foreboding and instinct to crawl up into a ball. 

Eventually, things changed for me. I made a new friend in 8th grade at school (Alejandra) and reconnected with some other girls I had drifted away from. I no longer had suicidal ideations but I still wasn’t exactly loving life. Ninth grade was in the same school (it was a private, K-12 school) but in another building. I remember being very much alone that year. During lunch, I would go sit by myself outside in the shade with a book, or I would go to the typing room and teach myself to type. At this point, the bullying had ended at both school and at ballet (note: my mom, a tiny little Swedish thing who seriously wouldn’t hurt a fly, actually got into a shouting match, almost punching the big, loud, rude woman whose daughters had destroyed my stuff and left a few bruises on me; the ballet academy owner came running into the lobby to break up the fight and later told my mother she couldn’t stand the other mom or her daughters and thank you for standing up to her. My mom passed away 16 years ago and this is still one of my favorite memories of her). 

I did have some bright spots at school that year, namely my friendship with a girl a year below me. Sasha and I had been friends since grade school as we rode the bus together. We lived on the other side of the enormous city so our bus rides were typically an hour long. She became my best friend based on those bus rides and our geographic proximity. When I was in 9th grade she was in 8th grade, so we were in different buildings. But during these lonely times, I would sometimes venture over to middle school during lunch and hang out with Sasha and her friends. Being a bookworm, I would read a diverse collection of books and at some point I started to read a book, Girls & Sex. Suddenly I had very important information and the 8th graders were eager to learn what I knew about this mysterious topic. (Remember: I was in a conservative country at a conservative time. And there was no YouTube). I then read the book’s counterpart, Boys & Sex. I became the expert on all things dating, relationships, sex - and I had never even kissed a boy at this point. But this is when my lifelong passion of helping people, especially teens, with all things regarding mental health, relationships, self-respect, matchmaking, etc began. As I helped others, I helped myself, as I began to feel less like a misunderstood loser. These very popular 8th graders were seeking my wisdom and wanted to hang out with me, so I guessed I just needed to find my people.

The summer between 9th and 10th grades was when everything changed. My friend Alejandra had moved to San Diego after 8th grade and I went to visit her for two weeks. This was the first time I had traveled without my family. I loved California! Here I was, on a beautiful beach, and nobody knew me. No one knew I had been this studious, pimply, head-gear-and-polyester-wearing bully target, and it didn't hurt that it was too hot there for my polyester pants. My pimples had cleared up, my braces were gone, and I discovered the magic of reinvention. The cute lifeguards noticed me. One of them even taught me how to throw a frisbee, and this launched a lifelong love of frisbee (and ultimate frisbee in college). I felt so free! It was exhilarating, and I knew I would never go back to how I had been. That same summer I got my period for the first time too (while on a flight to Brussels, actually). 

When I think of 10th grade the overwhelming feeling I have about it is that I had stopped caring what people thought of me. I had this deep, warm knowing that I mattered, that I was pretty, and smart, and cool, and no one could take this away from me. All of the people who had been part of the middle school angst were still at school with me, and we were even friends again. I was what I call a floater. I did not hang out with one group, but sort of floated around between groups. The social scene at this school, as I remember it, is that there was the American clique (ex-pats whose parents worked at the U.S. Embassy or multinational corporations); the most popular clique, who were mostly wealthy Mexicans. Then there were lots of other smaller groups. I was friendly with all, but by 10th grade my closest friends were not in my grade (Sasha in 9th grade and Vicky in 11th grade) and I otherwise floated. After 11th grade my family moved to the U.S. so I once again had a chance to reinvent myself, for 12th grade in N.J. (As you can imagine, this was another opportunity to build resiliency skills!).

As awful as 7th grade was, and as awkward as 8th and 9th grade were, I would not change that experience for the world. I know what it feels like to feel like a total misfit, to be deeply lonely, and to feel like there is no way out and no end in sight. I know what it feels like to feel like this is the worst day of your life and there is no way in hell things will get better. (Note: it was not a smooth ride from there on out, as later in high school I began a journey through bulimia, and I thankfully eventually recovered but there were definitely some dark times…). I am certain that these painful years led me to the work I do now, as I instantly empathize with people who feel like a square peg in a round hole and feel like they are stuck. And now, during COVID, when so much of what we took for granted about our life has been replaced by the unsettling realization that nothing is permanent or certain, many of us feel this sense of when will this ever end? I hear it every day, from kids and adults, bemoaning the uncertainty that is the only guarantee as we make plans to return to school, to be employed, to stay healthy. Fluid is the new black. Mental health is declining, especially among our youth. So much feels tenuous to them and they lack the perspective of our grandparents, who have weathered other chicken little times (world wars, Cold War, 9/11...) and figure, this too shall pass. 

As I walked my puppy this morning I reflected on these collective feelings of despair and hopelessness, and was immediately transported back to my middle school self. I decided to write about this because I found it comforting to zoom out and feel the pain of my middle school self, while being in the time and place I am today. I contemplated the impermanence of things that seem so certain and intractable, which is a concept that can feel unsettling or can be a relief, depending on how we look at it or what we apply it to. When my son would text me from his 8th grade hell at school, “THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE,” my heart would shrivel up and at the same time I would know, this too shall pass. Of course, by the time he would get home and I would ask him what had happened, because my own middle school self knows what a hostile world that can be, especially since we had just moved and he was having to start from scratch in a new state and school, he would reply with something like, “It got better.”  It still sucked - but he would just keep going, and he would come home and share some of the stories of rejection and awkwardness and bullying and ineffective school staff. And I would listen, and inwardly cringe, and he would know that I knew it sucked, because of my own history.

​Maybe the most useful thing about middle school is it prepares us to face life shitshows. I recently learned that based on research, hope is actually a skill, which means it can be taught and strengthened. I think I will start to think of middle school as Hope Academy, and if you come out alive, you have a master’s degree in hope. If you are reading this, you probably have this same degree, which means you are fully equipped to deal with all hard things.

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If you feel like you need to talk with someone, this website has some wonderful resources:

American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

Keep going. One day at a time, one step at a time. 

Listen, I get it. When we find Jesus, sobriety, Beyond Meat burgers, whatever it is that makes us realize we have been an asshole for years and now we know better - it is really tempting to want to hammer our new gospel down everyone’s throat, no matter what it takes, especially if we know it is the righteous way to be. And in the anti-racism work, we are learning that if we are not calling out people, we aren’t really anti-racist because silence = compliance/complicity. So, out of our desire to avoid shame at all costs, we need to transfer our shame to someone else, and fire off a judgmental email, post, comment. Gosh, that felt good, right? But maybe there’s a little bit of ugh in that action, because we are being motivated to act by an urge to rid ourselves of our own lingering shame. 

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This morning a very dear friend of mine, who is African American and is exhausted, as are many of her black brothers and sisters, shared this post with me:

How about if we start with ourselves? Rather than spending all kinds of time and energy on creating and feeding shame storms, here are some suggestions, that can actually lead to positive change:

1. Read the books, listen to the podcasts, watch the YouTube videos and documentaries, and learn. We have been brainwashed by educational and other systems full of racism, so we are finally learning how whitewashed our history and civic lessons have been. We are learning how our “justice system” is only just if you are white and have money and connections. We are learning shocking information that even in this day and age where it feels unfathomable that people can get away with genocide in our own country, are doing so, and we are actually paying for it. Please, learn. 
2. Discuss with your friends and family what you are learning, but especially now, try to focus on sharing with like-minded people who will challenge you, and accept your challenges, knowing who you are. In other words, spend your energy on loved ones in conversation, rather than acquaintances and strangers on social media, who can easily misunderstand you and trigger a shame storm or you can trigger one for them. 
3. Engage in self-reflection. Write your thoughts down. Consider hiring a therapist, especially one who has experience with trauma and that is their focus. If as a child, your family was poor, or you had some other type of trauma even if you feel like it was minor - this may be why today, you continue to be stuck in shame and fear, which perpetuates your racism. A part of you that is self-protective is activated and until you do some work to figure out what that’s all about, you will probably be stuck. At some point, intellectually knowing something will only go so far. Ask someone who has a drinking habit and knows it’s contributing to the possibility of them having breast cancer, which runs in their family, why they still drink? Dr. Nzinga Harrison in this podcast episode talks about how racism is an addiction - listen. 
4. Use your energy and desire to have a positive impact by looking at ways to change your local laws and policies. Do what you can right now, given the constraints we have with COVID-19 and physical distancing, to immerse yourself in communities of color. If you have black acquaintances, make an effort to strengthen the relationship. If your town has 3 black families, trust me, they have felt very alone even as they “provide a better life for their kids.” Build the bridge, and not when it’s most convenient to you. Go to the areas of need and roll up your sleeves and get to work, and mostly, LISTEN and observe. Don’t post about it, just dive in. A couple of years ago I went to a talk by Glennon Doyle and she said, “Until you have immersed yourself in the cause, and the community, for at least a year, you have not earned the right to speak.” That sort of humility is inspiring to me. LISTEN.

Finally, I want to share some great advice from my grad school professor (who teaches Multicultural Counseling at the College of William & Mary):

​"I want to share with you something that I have seen in the field all too often, which I feel is damaging. Others speaking for others without first taking the needed steps of advocacy. We are seeing more and more of this right now in our nation...However, no matter how 'good' we think our intentions may be... we cannot speak for others but instead listen to their wants/needs - and then use that to help guide our associated actions." - Eleni Honderich. 

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While out on a run just now with my son, my son pointed out some fanfare going on. Turns out a young woman who had been training for a marathon that was supposed to take place today (and was obviously canceled), with the encouragement of her mom and I presume husband/boyfriend, decided that if she ran 26.2 miles today, it was still a marathon. She didn't need all the other stuff (crowds, aid stations, medal, swag...) to be a marathoner. We cheered for her - she only had 10k left at that point.

At one point my son gestured toward a trail that was off the paved path. I thought hmmm, it is probably going to be super muddy, and as we headed onto it, unable to see what lay ahead, I thought about my first Ironman. I had trained for a measly 10.5 weeks (don't ask) and just before we left for the airport I asked my coach, what is my strategy? He said, the swim is your warm-up, the bike is more warm-up, and in the marathon, you just focus on running from aid station to aid station - they are spaced a mile apart. My only goal had been to finish before the 17 hour cutoff. Everything was fine until about mile 18 of the marathon, when the fact that I had never trained my digestive system for this collided with the fact that the race organizers had grossly underestimated how much toilet paper would be required for the event and it ran out hours earlier (sound familiar?). My coach's words "go from aid station to aid station" kept me focused in spite of complete discomfort and misery. And I trusted that if he believed I could do this, then it must be so. The marathon was dark, we were all spread out for those last few miles, and I sensed we were each quietly in this together. I finished a couple of hours before the cutoff.

Right now, we have no idea what lies ahead. Three weeks ago I could not have predicted so much of what is real right now. So I focus on right now, and on doing my best in this moment, and even if I can't see my fellow travelers, I know we are all in this together.
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And I remind myself that this is my race, and someone else's race may look very different. It is easy to compare and think, "they have it so much easier than me" or "I have no right to complain, compared to how they have it" - but the reality is we all have our challenges and privileges and may be putting in different levels of effort, but it all matters. It all counts. And we each need to remember that we truly do not know what others are going through. So let us remember to show grace, to be kind, and to do so from 6 ft apart. We do not know what lies ahead, but there are some things we can control, so let's focus on that.

I have always said that the children are the canary in the coal mine. So the alarming amount of anxiety, depression, suicidation, addiction, bullying, violence, self-injury, eating disorders, etc. - to me have always signaled that something is incredibly toxic in the world in which they are being raised. Their parents are busy and stressed and shuttling them (via "Muber" and Uber) between myriad activities that they yes (sometimes), love, and also make them more appealing college candidates, and therefore rather than being fun, healthy endeavors are now another way to measure their worth. Their teachers entered the profession wanting to help kids learn and are largely stressed because they are forced to focus on tasks and requirements that force them away from feeding their students' inner spark. Their schools have become boxes that keep them sedentary, indoors, with the occasional active shooter lockdown drills. Their healthcare professionals have been taught to compartmentalize them into parts, divorcing the brain from the rest of the body, pathologizing healthy reactions to their toxic world as conditions that must be medicated and addressed by professionals that are actually not covered to a large extent by their insurance, and that require special accommodations at school. Why do so many kids have 504 plans? Perhaps it's the system that needs to change, rather than the children?
Now our kids are home for a few weeks, possibly longer. Their caregivers are (for the most part, though certainly not all, especially if they are medical professionals - THANK YOU if this is you!!!!) also home. Kids are having to deal with boredom, with finding ways to feel connected socially (turns out they actually do want to see their friends in person). They actually have the opportunity to sleep. Their SAT's have been canceled through at least May.
The children are the segment of the human population who so far are physically unscathed by the coronavirus (with some exceptions if they have underlying health issues). Interesting how nature is sparing them, no?
What if during all of this, which could be a forced global reboot, we look at what we can learn and apply going forward? What if being forced to spend time at home, with our kids and animals, and outdoors, is actually the vacation we really needed rather than the bank-breaking trip to Disney World? What if we start to realize that without the pressures of the rat race, our addiction to "mommy timeout wine" is not because of the stresses of being a mom, but because of everything that was distracting us from connecting us with deep, meaningful work and connection? What if this will finally get rid of the horrible SATs and the increasingly dysfunctional world/industry of education as we know it? What if our children will start to heal, as we collectively slow down and focus and prioritize and connect in more meaningful ways? What if the next round of rap songs are about helping our neighbors, listening to our wiser elders, finding comfort in community and love rather than Gucci and Xanax and meaningless hook-ups (I know, that may be pushing it).
All we have is this moment. There is so much uncertainty around us. The kids are looking to us for signals of how they should feel and be. Maybe we should start looking to them. While we are social distancing or in lockdown, maybe we should worry less about lesson plans and instead look for signs of spring in the yard, reorganize the furniture, make vision boards, teach the dog a new trick, learn some Tik Tok dances, learn how to make a fire in case we ever end up on Survivor, create a new Bucket List that actually does not require a plane ticket, start a gratitude journal or a bullet journal, try out some YouTube yoga practices, find stillness in meditation and prayer...
What if this is really just the beginning, and our children will finally get through to us?

This past weekend, I was immersed in a yoga teacher training course and on Saturday, when the course was done for the day, I headed to Whole Foods with my husband and son to pick up something. We were headed to the back of the store when someone came from the other direction and crashed her cart into ours. I couldn’t see the person, just the obnoxious crashing, and my fried brain (this teacher training is intense!) was taking all of this stimulation in so when I rounded the corner and saw the person’s identity, I had a moment of confusion. And then the thrill and gratitude set in. My daughter, a freshman at college, was home 4 days earlier than expected, and she and my husband decided to surprise me! I cannot describe the joy of knowing our family of 4 was back together for 4 days longer and sooner than expected!

And even as I sit here in gratitude, I am also deeply sad that the parents of a fellow student will be spending a very different Thanksgiving than they had planned.

When we were visiting our daughter at her college for Parents Weekend a few weeks ago, a fellow freshman went missing after a frat party and his body was found two days later.  To add to the parents’ despair, there is a code of silence about what happened at that frat that night, but there is a general assumption that alcohol was involved, given the measures being taken by the school’s administration, and the comments made in the media by the family’s lawyer. It is unfathomable to contemplate what Antonio’s parents have been going through, and will, for the rest of their lives. They have set up an anonymous number where students can text or call in any information that may shed some light on what happened that night. 

In the media stories about this tragedy, and a few others that have happened this year on other college campuses, there is the common point that fraternities were involved. The word “hazing” has come up as perhaps being the reason for this excessive amount of alcohol that resulted in young adults dying of acute intoxication. In general, this is the definition used for hazing: “humiliating and sometimes dangerous initiation rituals, especially as imposed on college students seeking membership to a fraternity or sorority.”

I actually think we have this wrong. I have spoken to a lot of people, from current college students to people who are 2-30 years out of college, and I think that what is going on is actually much more subtle than what we think of as hazing. I think it may be more along the lines of peer pressure. But not the kind of peer pressure that is overt “drink this or you’re a loser” - again, a subtle way that people tend to do something, normalize it, and if you don’t join them, you are an outsider, so you end up doing something you may not have otherwise. 

About 10% of the alcohol consumed in the US is by kids ages 12-20. 
One in 6 US adults binge drinks 4 times a month (defined as 4 drinks for women and 5 drinks for men, over a 2 hour span). 
Alcohol causes 88,000 deaths per year in the US and of those, 1,825 are young people ages 18-24. 
Each year, 696,000 college students are assaulted by someone who has been drinking - 97,000 of whom say they were sexually assaulted or raped.

Based on stories people have shared with me, this may be a typical scenario at a fraternity or sports team or similar type of collegiate party: freshmen eager to make friends and have fun and blow off steam join the upperclassmen in drinking copious amounts of alcohol. To the point of puking. And then they drink more. Nobody is pressuring them, telling them they have to do it. But it seems like everyone is doing it and part of them is intrigued, part of them wants to be wild and crazy and fun, part of them is craving a sense of belonging, bonding, feeling accepted and maybe even admired. I can imagine this was the situation at many of these occasions that resulted in tragedy. I imagine that the people who were there truly never really thought through to the consequences part, and if they did, they stopped at hangover. Certainly tragedy was not part of the realm of possibility. And the more alcohol thrown on the fire, the less involved the still-underdeveloped prefrontal cortex became.

I often talk with parents about this whole drinking thing and kids. They want to know, what can they do to lessen the chances that their kids will end up making poor choices? They consider “training” their kids to drink so they “learn how to drink in moderation.” Like the Europeans they say, you know, wine with dinner with the family (note: this is a myth. It does not work. In fact, it’s probably a really bad idea especially if any kind of addiction or mental health issue runs in your family, plus, a child’s brain is at a key developmental stage between the ages of 12-18 and introducing alcohol and other drugs is something you really don’t want to do).

I have also heard parents say to their kids, “just know your limits.” That one boggles my mind. What does this even mean? Know your limit before you get to the point of... puking? Passing out? Hooking up with someone you never would kiss sober, let alone have sex with? Losing your wallet/sense of direction/dignity? Crossing a line you never thought you'd cross? What is the limit? Is this your limit or your child's limit? Do they even know? Do you?

Thanksgiving is in 3 days. Do you know your limits? Do you stop before you reach them? I am guessing not. Of course we don't. Perhaps because the expectation is to gorge, it's even encouraged, and most clothing has spandex today (I certainly find myself only buying stretchy stuff). My point is, sometimes our limits are vague, and sometimes they are "supposed" to be blown through.  So when it comes to life and death stuff, maybe we should be a little less vague?

So, as you have your kids home this weekend from college, I would ask you to consider taking the opportunity to talk with your kids about a few things. 

1. Social anxiety. We all experience it. Anxiety is the most common mental health complaint, and social anxiety is its most experienced form. I meet lots of adults who are now sober who say they first started drinking (or using other drugs including nicotine) in order to feel less self-conscious and awkward. I also meet lots of adults who cannot imagine not drinking when socializing, going out to dinner, going to their kids’ ____ tournament, going to a fundraiser, going on a date… If we do not experience the discomfort, we will not learn that it is normal, and temporary. We will not develop the skills we need (eg conversational skills) as we navigate social situations our whole life. As I say to my kids, “Do you want to have to rely on alcohol or other drugs to have fun when hanging out with your friends or your partner?”

Parents: how do you feel about this? Do you think you could go one month, 6 months, a year without drinking or smoking weed in any sort of social situation or in anticipation of one?

2. Stress. We can all agree that life on this planet is stressful. It always has been and it always will be. It is the human condition. What may be different today is the way we handle stress. It can be argued that we are currently collectively in a state of intolerance of stress. Tony Robbins says we humans are motivated by two things: seeking pleasure, and avoiding suffering. It's totally normal. But for the first time we have really a perfect storm: the ready availability of all sorts of ways to avoid or numb discomfort (iPhone, pills, weed, booze, etc); a lack of real connection with people and communities who keep us grounded and accountable and help us feel supported; industries that feed off of our hunger to feel better about ourselves; a virtual world that means we are constantly reminded of how stressful the world is and how inadequate we are. And in all of this, we send our kids off to college with a "be careful, know your limits, keep up the good grades, have fun." In 2018, 63% of college students felt "overwhelming anxiety." I have heard kids say, "I am so stressed. I can't wait to go out and get sh*tfaced." 

I remember before my daughter went to college, one day she was having a stressful day with some stuff involving work. It was adult-level stuff. And I said to her, "this is adulting." I also remember on other occasions when she would be complaining that she didn't feel like doing something (must have been her laundry, or some other tedious chore). I said, "welcome to adulting" and explained, adulting means doing what needs to be done even though it's a total drag.

Adulting does not mean this:


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I know that a lot of these memes are considered funny, and I certainly used to laugh and share stuff like this. So I struggle to write this stuff because I don't want to come across as preachy and pious. I get it. It's one of those things where, as Maya Angelou said, "When you know better, you do better." I know better now. I know how destructive alcohol can be, and I find it particularly irresponsible when certain people and organizations and brands who have a certain amount of influence over parents and kids take a casual stance over something that really does impact mental health and wellness. I think it's one of those things where

We don't know what we don't know.

Parents: how do you relieve stress? Have you fallen into certain habits that perhaps need some updating?  What message do you think you are relaying to your kids about coping with stress?

3. Values. What do you value? What is important to you? When you think of your life, where do you hope to be going? How do you want people to think of you? Honesty, honor, integrity, kindness, compassion, loyalty, genuine, sincerity, intelligence, wisdom, maturity, gratitude, humility - if these or other attributes are important to you, are you living this way? In all things? This is not about perfection. It is about intention. It is so easy to compartmentalize our values. A student may think of himself of being a loyal, hard-working person, but then turn into a jackass as soon as Jack Daniels shows up. We humans all do things that seem totally out of character in certain contexts, but if we are not talking regularly with our kids about values, and ask them what theirs are, then chances are, when things get hot and heavy it will be much easier for them to go with the flow, which is very often far below their (and our) usually acceptable standard. 

Parents: have you experienced cognitive dissonance - when you identify as being one way, but your actions, choices, priorities don’t support that?

4. Belonging. We all want to belong. We are wired this way, as a survival necessity. When we belonged to a tribe, back in the ancient days, if we got separated from our tribe it was guaranteed death. Today we just need to make sure we have a charged phone and a signal or wifi, so it seems we are connected, but we really aren’t. We need and crave human, in-person connection. We want to be invited to stuff (even if we really don’t want to go), we want to be missed, we want people to laugh with us and share experiences with us. At college, we desperately want this and we want it quickly. Greek organizations provide a built-in tribe. Get accepted and you have your instant friends. The allure is understandable. A lot of these sororities and some of the fraternities actually do some really good stuff. They provide social acceptance, a place to live, a network, and a way to be of service through philanthropy. Boys and men typically have a harder time forming bonds and intimate friendships in our US culture, so frats can be a good way to provide structure to the awkward friendship experience. And their parties provide a fun experience with dancing, themes, a way to meet people. So how can this occur in a healthier way? If a college bans Greek organizations, how can these fun social experiences still be provided? (Because they will find a way, and perhaps more dangerously without the oversight that happens at approved Greek events).

​Parents: do you have close friends? A tribe? Do you socialize in ways that are fun, and do not involve alcohol?  

5. Entitlement vs. empowerment.  I have heard, "If they can do this, so can we." "I have the right to do this." Often in the context of young women asserting their right to be equals to their male counterparts, when it comes to substance use and sexual behavior. This is one of those things where maturity, experience, and education come into play. And in many ways, ties back to the topic of values. Do you value compassion? Is pumping your body and brain with stuff that can lead you to lower your standards, including using another human being (because yes, using people is an equal opportunity habit) an act of compassion? And is engaging in the same behavior that other more privileged people or genders have typically done without social impunity truly empowering? I think this is something that even if we don't feel comfortable directly addressing with our kids, we need to be thinking about. 

Just because we can doesn't mean we should.

This is the thing. We cannot assume that our kids will do the right thing, even if they are smart enough to go to a great school. From the choices they make for themselves, to the decisions they make that affect others. I remember when my friend’s son was a toddler, and he was reaching for something that she didn’t want him to have, she said, “I don’t know how I feel about that” to him and I thought, “well, if you don’t know how you feel about it then how do you expect him to know?” So often we make assumptions of what our kids will think or do. But I think we need to be clearer. I remember a boyfriend I had in high school, his dad said to him, “If you ever smoke pot I will be furious with you and hugely disappointed.” So he never did. Why are we so wishy washy about this stuff?

​One of the reasons that 40% of teens today are vaping is because no one ever told them not to vape, because quite frankly, this whole thing took us by surprise. We didn’t even know what vaping was until about 2-3 years ago. By the time we adults figured it out, millions of kids were addicted to nicotine. Because of the brilliant (EVIL) marketing, the perception of harm was low for kids. Flavors like grape bubble gum and cool packaging etc, and we adults never educated them about the dangers (again, we didn’t know, in all fairness). But with alcohol, we do know. We know that the World Health Organization this year said that alcohol is not safe in any quantity, for any person. We know that most suicides involve alcohol, and it is the #1 date rape drug. (By the way, I tell my son that if he ever hooks up with a girl he is not in a committed relationship with- ie there is a certain level of trust and respect and agreed-upon boundaries- and she has been drinking, he had better be prepared to accept the possibility and the consequences of being accused of sexual assault). Alcohol greatly increases our chances of cancer, especially breast cancer and colon cancer (cognitive dissonance moment: holding a wine tasting fundraiser for breast cancer). I could go on and on but you get the picture. So why do we tell our kids, “just know your limits” - why do we set the bar so low? (Pardon the pun). 

Antonio’s parents, and other parents whose college kids won’t be returning home this week - or ever - are the deeply unlucky ones (grossly inadequate understatement). Because this could have been anyone’s kid. Because we are all part of the problem if we are not looking at the way we are role modeling, or thinking about how we are talking with our kids about this stuff: making friends and how hard it is and it takes time; blowing off steam and handling stress in healthy ways rather than quick fix, mindless ways; looking out for people and standing up for our values, knowing we may feel lonely when we don’t follow the herd; looking at the long-term impact of the decisions we make today, because who we are in 5, 10, 20+ years depends on what we are doing consistently today and going forward. 
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I had the privilege of leading a group of beautiful, resilient women through a meditation so I decided to write something special for them. I am sharing it here in case it helps someone who lands on this page.

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You are here. You are awake. You are conscious. You have always been here. You were born knowing everything you needed to know.

And then, along the way, you started to learn other things.

You learned that it can hurt to fall and ice cream makes me happy.
You learned that you can control people and situations and when you do, the fear feels less overwhelming.
You learned that it feels good when people like and accept you, and you can get that by putting their needs in front of yours.
You learned that you can change yourself to be like the people around you, like a master chameleon.
You learned that you can avoid feeling anger, loneliness, boredom, like a failure, by eating, drinking, using, manipulating, conquering, running, moving…

And eventually, you learned that there was not enough ice cream, wine, lovers, jobs, trips, geographics - to keep you from feeling, to fill the God-sized hole in you.
In the process of awakening, you have unlearned the layers of beliefs that have been piling up on me through the years, covering the deep knowing you came into this world with.
You unlearned the “you’re not good enough!” “you don’t deserve any better!” “you deserve one more!”
and relearned “I am enough.” “I am worthy.” “I don’t need anything I can buy, eat, drink, pop, screw, achieve - to make me amazing.”
You are learning that the things that you have done, have served you, have kept you afloat, have kept you alive.
And you are learning that you are so very strong, and resilient, and beautiful in your  imperfection.
You are learning to see your cracks as the places where the light comes in, to see your weaknesses as the impetus to reach out to others and see your strength reflected in them.
You are learning to surrender to the knowing that you are powerless over things that once felt like a way to control your world, and you are softening in the surrender, astonished at the freedom of no longer having to wear the mask and grip the reins. You are reawakening, the way the spring flower buds start to appear after a long winter. Slowly at first, and then suddenly in a burst of color and life.
You are gentle with the woman, the little girl, you were not too long ago, and who you will always carry within you. You love her and know she was always doing the best she could.
​And now, you love this woman you are becoming, as you remember who you are, and always were.