When my son was four years old, I would give him a $5 dollar note and send him to the little corner store about 10 houses up from our place. Pulling a rusty red wagon behind him, he’d head off up our road to buy a couple of cartons of milk, feeling like he was Buzz Lightyear on a very important mission.
Read MoreThis morning when ordering a take-away coffee, I ask the barista how he is doing? With a big beaming smile, he shares that last night he proposed to his girlfriend.
Touched by the beauty of his delight, instantly my eyes fill with tears. We laugh at my response and unperturbed he goes on to tell me the details of the proposal, as well as his desire to marry with all of his family present, including his elderly grandfather.
Read MoreIn my work, I meet a lot of people who described themselves as “stressed”, “not-coping”, “anxious”, and often in these states, fear that there is something that is terribly wrong with them for this to be happening in their world.
In this short post, I will outline some simple lifestyle changes you can make that are likely to reduce your stress levels.
Read More
Sitting across from me in my counselling room is a young man who twirls a thread, dangling from the knee of his jeans, as he stares uncomfortably down at the carpet. When he’s done with that he absent-mindedly pulls at the hairs on his arm, not that long ago they were pale and downy but recently they darkened and became coarser.
There are a million other places he’d rather be than sitting and talking to a child and adolescent counsellor, but “Tom” (not his real name) has reluctantly agreed to come because he’s tired of how he feels. He’s sick of being asked what’s wrong and would tell them, if only he knew himself. Sure, he gets that exams are stressful and the kids at school can be d%*#heads sometimes, but there is more to it than that. Only it’s hard to tackle it, when you don’t yet know, what it is.
And whilst I sit with him, witness to his anguish and vulnerability, I am profoundly aware of the strength it has taken for this young person to simply turn up today. Coming to counselling is an act of bravery. To commit to a process, to change how your life feels, is seriously admirable. For some, the amount of courage that needs to be summoned to speak with a therapist can be huge. And during the tumultuous teenage years, the decision to ‘give it a go’, I believe is even more commendable.
However, it never ceases to amaze me how that risk pays off. As the therapeutic rapport grows, we gently explore that which we have ignored, suppressed or denied. In time this affords us incredible liberation as we gain a greater sense of control over how we deal with our experiences and relationships. The sense of relief at moving through depression, anxiety, loss, grief, compulsive behaviours or anger, can be life changing.
Counselling can be hard work; no doubt about it and having concerns about how that might feel is perfectly understandable. But hang in there because the discomfort is worth it.
I have enormous respect for Tom finding the courage to show up for therapy and I admire his trust in the process. Together, we work to make the experience of counselling, worth the risk he took.
(Specialising in working with children & adolescents, Megan Rees, works from her practice The Grove Counselling, located in the Melbourne bayside suburb of St Kilda East .)
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Spring has sprung here in the southern hemisphere
The mornings and evenings are lighter
After so much greyness and cold, the blue canopy of the sky feels like a relief
Waking to morning birdsong, brings a smile
Soothing to the eyes, vibrant green growth burst on to the no-longer winter silhouetted trees
The nurturing rays of warm sunshine felt on bare skin
The sweet fragrance of jasmine blooming, punctuates the air
The delight of children playing outdoors travels in the wind
A sense of possibility
Just as we experience the movement of nature in the seasons
With a sense of wonder and gentle curiosity
I invite you to take time to connect to this moment
And notice, what may be budding within you?
(Believing in the power of present moment awareness, Sarah Sacks works as a counsellor advocating growth through transitions. She practices at The Grove Counselling & Therapy, St Kilda East.)
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This morning amongst the morning rush at the local café, I sit down at a table next to an elderly gentleman. Perhaps it is the twinkle in his eye or maybe his gentle presence that invites the engagement….whatever it is, within moments, we find ourselves holding hands and through his faltering voice, I learn that this gentleman is at the cafe celebrating his 97th birthday.
His adult granddaughter attending to paying the bill and organizing a taxi to accompany her grandfather home, the gentleman and I stay together for a couple of minutes sharing each other’s presence.
The joy and sweetness of the moment pronounced, I become aware of the grief and sadness gripping at my heart within.
I work hard to stay present to our shared experience.
After a while the gentleman is helped to standing by other members of the public, and as he leaves, we hold hands one last time.
Watching him as he shuffles towards the door, outside, I see the yellow taxi that will take him away. I feel big full tears rolling down my cheeks.
My father died over a year ago, yet the grief still overcomes me when I least expect it.
Through my tears, I notice a group of older women nearby, who had witnessed this moment. One of them reaches out to comfort me, and in response I ask in her experience does grief ever pass? She shares the question with her friends…
One recounts how just yesterday, 29 years on, she found herself filled with tears of loss of her mother. Another talks about the transformation of grief to sweet memories of joy. And a further lady speaks to the passage of time being a part of the process of healing, yet acknowledges how she is still triggered to grief in unexpected moments, such as this scene today. All agree on the need to express their grief and allow it to have its place.
Knowing there is truth in all, I thank them for their wise counsel and for sharing this moment with me.
Sitting in the café, I cry at the beauty of humanity.
I allow my grief to flow.
I remember my father.
And I invite you, to allow a place, for the grief in your life….
If however, you find you are struggling to make sense of your grief, or loss is affecting your life beyond a way that you live with, seeking the support of a professional can help.
(Trained as a whole-body focussing oriented therapist, Sarah Sacks is an experienced counsellor, who specialises in working in supporting people through periods of transition, especially around issues of grief and loss.)
If this content interests you and you would like to receive regular updates of developments at The Grove, please leave your details in the "Subscribe" box to your right.
It all began when I started boarding school. I was 12 years old, a long way from the comfort of the farm, in a big city. On the first day, through the blur of tear stained eyes, I said goodbye to my family, and from that moment on, found myself having to navigate the world on my own. In colours it felt as if my life had moved from vibrant green to lifeless grey. I was terribly homesick and felt incredibly alone. The rules of the time, dictated that children and parents were to have limited contact, so that the children could ‘learn to manage’. Consequently at least for the first term, there were no phone calls, no visits and certainly no trips home. Apart from a couple of photos, a few well loved items, and my name sewed onto all of my belongings, I didn’t have much around me to remind me of who I was or where I belonged.
And so the writing began. Once a week on a Sunday, I would sit down at my desk and write to the family. Trying to sound cheerful, my letters became a place to share, my new world of experiences. Equally in return, I would receive weekly letters from my mother and as often my father, telling me the news of the farm, my brothers and how proud they were of me. Sometimes there might be a sprig of blossom from the garden or a newspaper clipping about the local footy team, tucked into the envelope too. All were equally treasured.
Letters became a place of heart-to-heart connection, and as such writing became a place for me to find who I was and where I belonged.
It is only now that I grasp the enormity of the joy and pain of the authentic voice on the page, that comes from this childhood longing to be loved and to be held, that runs deep through my stories told.
And so it is often the way, that not until I sit and write that I realize what is stirring inside of me.
Born from childhood experience, writing has become a place for deep exploration, articulation and sharing of experience.
Think back to your early years, what did you do to help yourself make sense of your experiences and to channel your energy? Was it imaginary play, music, construction, dance, sport or artistic expression…whatever it was, I invite you to consider making space for this part of yourself in your day-to-day life, and just see what springs forth…you may be amazed at the resource that lies within.
(Sarah Sacks works from The Grove Counselling & Therapy in St Kilda East. Often in her work she invites her clients to explore the use of reflective practices, as a tool to assist in their journey towards healing.)
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When I was growing my first born, I thirsted for all the information I could lay my hands on to make sure I offered her the best start in life. I spent every spare dollar on books and read all of them from cover-to cover. I pored over, What to Expect When You Are Expecting, The Rhythm of Life and Positive Affirmations for Pregnancy and Birth. I hung off every word Dr Christopher Greene had to say, downed blueberries, folic acid and raspberry leaf tea like there was no tomorrow, all because the ‘experts’ said I should.
During the pre-school years I pounced on Melbourne Child warm off the press and could recite Toddler Taming by heart. I continued to seek every piece of information and advice from friends and professionals alike, as my children transitioned through all their ‘firsts’ – first sleepovers, first day of school, first menstruation - right up until I attended seminars on, Parenting an L Plater & Surviving VCE. Of course, I didn’t take heed of all the advice some of it was too difficult and some of it was just plain ridiculous! I couldn’t see the sense in reading advantage for 3 year olds and I certainly wasn’t going to disguise vegetables in desserts. I cherry picked the pieces that worked for my family, and with the guidance of all those experts, mostly we bumbled our way through. So when my 18 year old announced she was off to live in New York City to attend Acting School, (after picking myself up off the floor) I decided to turn again to the experts to guide me through parenting, but this time, an independent young adult.
There wasn’t necessarily a shortage of Empty Nest literature, but the advice was pretty universal, “Get a life!” Well that was well and good, I already had a life, a thriving private practice, friends and family to travel and socialize with and 2 gorgeous dogs (one that belonged to said daughter!) that demand my time, but what was I to do about this aching hole in my heart? I missed my daughter so badly it hurt.
Oh dear, what had I done? I’d fostered independence and celebrated her for being true to herself and to her dreams. I’d reminded her enough times that she is responsible for her destiny and to welcome opportunity. And what did she do? She listened! Seized the day and embarked on a great life adventure. Now while others tell me how proud I must be, I envy them their Mother/Daughter time, their chats over coffee, and their weekends away. I ponder how to stay connected to her during these years as she really transitions from girl to woman. As her Mother, I feel short-changed. I haven’t finished yet; I have plenty more to say!
And as I lay in my bed Facetiming her at 2am, (during her lunch hour at school) I realize it is my daughter who can guide me how to navigate this new parenting frontier. I just have to allow her to. I still cry myself back to sleep sometimes after we hang up but then I sense I am no longer hanging up from my little girl but rather a capable young woman that now shares my joys and sorrows while I continue to share in hers. And as much as I treasured baking muffins together for class parties and receiving burnt toast and cold tea in bed on Mothers’ Day, there is something equally heart-warming and precious about this next chapter in our relationship. When my eldest sends me an encouraging text on the morning of an important presentation or posts a photo of a curry on Instagram with the hashtag #notasgoodasmum’s, I remind myself that times may have changed but the love between us is the same and maybe, if I am open to it, the connection woman-to-woman runs even deeper in its unexpected reciprocity.
Reflection - "What have your children taught you?
( Specialising in working with children & adolescents, Megan Rees, works from her practice The Grove Counselling, located in the Melbourne bayside suburb of St Kilda East .)
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Last night, I found myself seeking a glass of wine. Usually only drinking socially, I was alone in the kitchen preparing dinner for the family. It had been a busy day…what was this seeking of an experience altering substance about?
Growing up in rural Australia, alcohol has always been present in my life. My father drank to alleviate the stress and pain of history written in his body. My mother drank to be with my father. I drank to because that is what everyone did once they hit adolescence. Alcohol was always present. At dinner, at events, at celebrations, at commiserations, whenever adults were gathered there was always alcohol. It was a “social thing” ….or was it?
As children, we live moment to moment, and those moments define our experience. Whether it be joy in discovering the first egg laid by the family chooks in spring, or the rage of injustice as one sibling crosses the other…children live in their experiences. Yet in our growing up, it appears that some children learn that both the pain and the ecstasy of life are too much and that rather than learning how to regulate their experiences, they begin to seek distraction and in time disconnection from these highs and lows of life.
At the extreme, modeled in; alcohol dependence, excessive food consumption, cigarette addiction, overwork, social media obsession, or perhaps our inability to be alone…as adults, we demonstrate to our children how to disengage from truly living in experience.
This learning to disconnect from experience however is multi-faceted. As parents, as teachers, as caregivers in a child’s life, being unable to simply be with a child, regardless of whether it is meeting the child at their best or at their worst, if we, as adults can not tolerate a child’s experience, how will a child learn to tolerate their own? It is in how we respond to the child in their distress, with acceptance, with love and with care, that they discover their own capacity to self regulate.
Pause and take time to be with our own experiences and with the experiences of the young people around us. This is an investment in both ourselves and the generations to come.
Reflection: “What is your relationship with alcohol or similar detractors from experience?”
(As a Wholebody Focusing oriented therapist, Sarah Sacks actively supports her clients to come into relationship with their experience)
If this content interests you and you would like to receive regular updates of developments at The Grove, please leave your details in the "Subscribe" box to your right.
Originally I came to meditation through yoga. After many years of a very physical yoga practice, I found my home practice had become less and less active. Allowing my body to guide me, at home on the mat, I no longer sought physical expression, but experienced a deep desire to sit. Sitting in the unknowing, meditation became me.
It was in this sitting, that I came in contact with a deep unidentified grief. Whilst incredibly painful, it was only in this sitting in the grief, that I began to experience glimpses of the potential for opening beyond the pain. During this time, I continued to regularly attend yoga class and at home listened to my body, allowing myself to sit in mediation or to reflect in my journal. This period was transformative, resulting in me opening to a new path in my life.
Many years on, as I reflect on this experience and other pivotal moments in my life, I note what has sustained me. Consistently it has been a blend of physical expression and reflection. Noting that without one the other loses strength.
Whatever the form, our exercise and reflective practices take, I sincerely believe that it is only in being in contact with our physical being, that we can find the strength to be.
Reflection - what do you do to support your capacity to find both stillness and expansion in your life?
(As a therapist trained in holistic counselling, Sarah Sacks supports her clients to use meditation and reflective practice techniques in their therapy)
If this content interests you and you would like to receive regular updates of developments at The Grove, please leave your details in the "Subscribe" box to your right.
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