One of my missions in life is to help people let their inner rock start come out and sing, gosh darn it! Because I know they want to and I like to help people do what they want to do. Even when they don’t know they want to do it. I would have been a great drug dealer or salesperson. In fact, Amazon should be paying me commission for the number of red light therapy panels I’ve sold–even to physicians! Fortunately, I choose to use my powers of influence for good instead of evil.
This post was originally written on October 2, 2013. To read the full post, click here.
So you know how much I love Karaoke. I am still singing, but my range is shot because of the damage done by my GERD (acid reflux) and some medications I was taking for 15 years (more on that in next post). Although the fundoplication surgery combined with compliance with my inhaler when exercising has really helped with my asthma and throwing up, my range hasn’t improved much.
I have debated on taking voice lessons over the past year because I see how much my friend Michelle and my niece Sadie have improved–and especially since I have an acting contract and can deduct the cost of the lessons–but I still thought it was a waste. It’s not like I sing for a living. My family and friends don’t care if I can’t hit the high notes when we sing Karaoke.
Luckily my family, friend, and niece wouldn’t let me give up. When I asked my brother if it made sense to get lessons if you had a broken instrument, he said that you can still improve the sound that you get from it. Michelle said that I just need to access my head voice for my high notes and that can be learned. And Sadie, the relentless optimist, said I won’t know unless I try. Plus she thinks I can be friends with Deanna, her voice instructor, and she’s always worried about me having friends because my closest friends are all in Roanoke.
So one day, I decided to research whether you can heal your vocal cords from GERD, and it turns out that you can with voice therapy. I figured voice therapy might not be that different from singing lessons, so I contacted Deanna and asked her if the two were similar. Not only did she say they were similar, but she also struggles with GERD and asthma and has learned to alter her techniques to accommodate these issues. So I was sold after that!
I’ve had 4 or 5 lessons now and already my range has improved, although the strength of my voice is still weak. The most amazing thing I’ve learned iis that the reason why I haven’t been able to sing high notes is that my tongue, vocal cords, throat, and larynx have been traumatized from all the throwing up. So essentially, I’m doing trauma therapy. I do exactly what I do with clients but with the focus on my tongue, jaw, neck, and throat. I am training these muscles to relax. Tell the muscles that they’re safe. We’re just releasing sound and air now.
The other thing that voice lessons have taught me is that I’m too hard on myself. I push until my body can’t take it anymore. A bunch of my loyal readers have told me that I’m too hard on myself but it’s hard to let myself off the hook. It’s hard to accept that I can go easy on myself, despite all the self-compassion practice. Although it’s much better than it was when I started this blog.
In lessons, I’m always trying to force the notes out rather than allow them to come out. Very similar to language used in mindfulness–allow, soften, create space, play. This also applies to why I need hip surgery. Because when my hip started hurting 10 years ago, it never occurred to me that I could have arthritis so I never went to the doctor. By the time I found out in January, I was already at the point that I needed hip replacement surgery.
Oh well. Old habits die hard so I’m trying to have compassion for myself. Pushing myself helped me to accomplish a lot of things, and it was the only tool I had in my tool box at that time. But practicing mindfulness and self-compassion have given me so many more tools, and taking voice lessons is helping me practice these tools in a different way.
And because I’ve also added the lovingkindness practice, I’ve finally discovered how to be happy in the present, in this moment. Even when I’m in pain, with little contact with anyone, and without being able to play pickleball.
The choice is ours to free ourselves from the obstacles we create in our minds. Luckily I have God, my family, my friend, Deanna, and myself to thank for this newfound freedom. And if there’s anything that you think is holding you back, it’s not too late for you to be free, either.
By the way, Deanna gives Zoom lessons and also teaches acting, so if you’re interested in working with her, let me know.
I spent another weekend feeling exhausted and ended up canceling the plans I had been looking forward to. I no longer allow my inner critic to torment me by telling me that I’m just being lazy, because why would I be too lazy to go to a costume party and play tennis? Still, it’s frustrating to spend the entire weekend lying around the house watching TV.
To make matters worse, as soon as I have a little bit of energy, I try to do too much, because I feel like I’ve wasted so much time. And guess what happens? I burn out again, and the cycle repeats itself.
It helps that I have a blog where I have made public declarations about how I’m going to be more proactive about conserving my energy. And I have made some improvements. I am better at setting limits in my relationships. I try to go to bed earlier. I eat more mindfully. But there are other areas where I am still in denial. These include:
1. Hosting. I hosted a Halloween party that I obsessed about for weeks because I have a small place and I never cook and I had to do everything by myself since I’m single. Then my parents came up on Friday and we had another karaoke night, when ordinarily I would be spending the evening unwinding. For some reason, I didn’t think that trading rest for karaoke would affect my energy level.
2. Tennis. In my mind, tennis should not be tiring because it’s fun. In the summer I played 4-5 times a week, but now that I’m working, I only have the energy to play about 3 times a week, which my inner critic does not want to accept. But my body is like, too bad! That’s all I’m doing!
3. Football games. My brothers and I have season tickets, and this year they have been able to come to more games, so I really look forward to going. But it’s an all day affair that ends up affecting my entire weekend, because I don’t have much time to get anything done. Which means I’m really tired the following week. Again, this came as a surprise to me, even though it makes perfect sense.
4. Blogging. I know that blogging takes up energy, but once again, my inner critic is like, why should you be tired? You’re just sitting there typing and reading blogs. How hard can that be? You should be able to write 3 posts a week. But lately two posts a week is all I’ve been able to manage. Otherwise it starts to feel like a job rather than a hobby.
So I guess the lesson is that, while it’s important to have things to look forward to, fun things are tiring, too. Which is probably obvious to all of you, but it is somewhat of an epiphany for me. Guess I need to factor that into my energy conservation plan.
Tomorrow is our annual Halloween party. Which has more recently been referred to as our annual Decade Karaoke Party since some people claim they do not like Halloween costume parties.
In a previous post, I jokingly referred to myself as a karaoke pusher, but some people have accused me of being too pushy in general. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. When I want something, I’m relentless about getting it. It’s hard for me to take no for an answer. I will guilt trip people, wear them down, and resort to psychological tactics that are empirically proven to be effective in manipulating behavior.
I confess, my relentless pursuit of what I want has contributed to problems in my relationships. In fact, I am no longer in relationships with some of my accusers, and I’m sure that my pushiness contributed at least in part to the demise of those relationships. I am trying to be less pushy, but the truth is, I really believe that I am pushing people to do something that is good for them and that they want deep down.
In the 10 years that I have been hosting karaoke parties, everyone who has claimed to hate karaoke really did have an inner rock star. Sometimes it took more time and alcohol to coax that part out of them, but it was definitely in there.
I am even more certain that everyone has an inner child, because it is impossible to be an adult without passing through childhood at some point. And what child doesn’t like dressing up in costumes? None that I know of. And again, in my experience, when I have forced people to dress up for Halloween, they always enjoyed it in the end.
And in my defense, I may be pushy, but I am also patient. I don’t care if it takes them years before they fully participate in the festivities. I’m fine with them sitting there at the party pretending not to like karaoke and costumes for as long as they want. Because that is how confident I am that I will be right in the end. I mean, they keep coming to the parties, so they can’t hate it that much.
Although I have to admit, I have also been accused of always thinking I’m right. Which is also true, but I really am right most of the time, so I think those people are just sore losers.
Here are some pictures from past Halloween parties. Two of the people in the bottom picture claim that they don’t like karaoke, but you probably can’t pick them out, because they are all having a good time. More evidence that I am right about everything I just said.
You know that song “It’s Not Easy,” by Five for Fighting? It’s one of my favorites–and not just because it’s a great Karaoke song. I don’t claim to be a superhero, but I can relate to how hard it is to be the one who is expected to help other people.
Today I saw a client who exemplifies why I became a therapist. His life is filled with traumatic stories involving drugs, alcohol, mental illness, and abandonment, yet he is amazingly well-adjusted–on the outside, at least. He’s never had a chance to tell his story. In fact, he’s been coming to the counseling center for almost 2 years, but there’s very little in his chart about his family history.
Not all my motives are altruistic, however. It’s gratifying to give someone what you wish you had received. It feels good to be important to someone. And in all honesty, when you work with clients like him, you are changed just as much in the process. I know it’s cliche to say that I get more out of it than they do, but it’s true.
Not coincidentally, he bears an eerie similarity to my first husband. It’s unfortunate that the compassion that helps me to be an effective therapist has not served me well in my romantic relationships.
I understand why. With my client, I can be there for him, but he doesn’t have to be there for me. Nor should he be. In a romantic relationship, it needs to be closer to 50/50. But when you are in a relationship with someone who has been traumatized, their needs always seem to trump yours.
Some people see the red flags right away and steer clear of these kinds of relationships. But to me, they look like those orange flags that the ground crew at airports wave to direct you to the gate. They are more like a signal to move in closer than a warning sign of imminent danger.
I haven’t yet figured out what to do with my empathy in red flag relationships. How do I ignore someone’s cries for help when every part of me tells me to go to them, comfort them, and help them feel better? Their pain is my pain, and I don’t want to be in pain.
One of the advantages of being alone is that there is finally room for me to register my own feelings. It turns out that I’m not as needy as I thought I was. But I wish I had someone who can do for me what I do for other people. Today, I wish I had someone to come home to so that I could tell him about my day. Blogging about it helps, but it’s not the same.
I am still hopeful that I can find a relationship where someone can be there for me. But for now, I’ll try to limit my rescue efforts to my clients, my family, my friends, and myself.
I’ve always been a good student. So last night I had to stay up until I finished my homework; I had to finish reading The Book Thief for book club today. I can see why it’s a best seller. It is beautifully written. It’s one of those books that makes me marvel at the power of words–spoken and unspoken.
In the book, Liesel has a love/hate relationship with words. Words were one of Hitler’s most powerful weapons, and she lost many people whom she loved because of them. But words also comforted her, connected her to other people, and ultimately told her story.
I rely a great deal on words in every aspect of my life–except tennis. But even there, you have to at least call out the score. Without words, I wouldn’t be able to sing Karaoke. I guess you can just make a bunch of nonsensical sounds, but that wouldn’t be as fun. The words don’t have to make sense–and I am often surprised to find out what the lyrics are at times–but you have to sing something.
I’m not really artistic. I can’t express myself through drawing or sculpting or dancing like my other family members. But I can write. And I like public speaking. So without words, I wouldn’t have a job. And I wouldn’t be able to blog.
When I write a blog post, I try to keep it as short as possible, so I have to leave a lot of words out. I am always relieved–and surprised–that people understand exactly what I was trying to say in the spaces between the sentences.
Sometimes I have an idea for a post but I’m not quite sure what I want to say. So I just write, because I know the idea is in there somewhere. I usually come up with something I didn’t expect to find. An ending that I hadn’t conceived of at the beginning. Artists often say they don’t create something from nothing; they’re just expressing an idea that’s already there. Sometimes that’s what blogging is like, too.
I spend most of my time listening to and choosing words carefully. People think the hardest part of therapy is hearing people’s problems, but it’s not. The hardest part is understanding what clients are trying to tell you and conveying that message back to them. Again, the idea is in there somewhere, but they don’t quite know how to get it out. In fact, therapists often say that the nonverbal communication is more important than the words themselves.
I guess that’s why what is left unspoken is meaningful, too. There were many times that Liesel wanted to say things but couldn’t bring herself to do it. I love you. I’m sorry. Don’t go. Sometimes we choose not to say hateful things. Sometimes we punish people with silence.
That’s the paradoxical thing about words. You need them, but you also need the space between them. And good writers like Markus Zusak know how to find the balance between the two.
I was trying to write a message about reading my blog in this doodle, but it ended up looking like someone typing on a computer. But that works, too.
I’ve been thinking a lot about addictions lately. Even before Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s death. I have never been the addictive type. My history is so clean I would have made a great political candidate, if I didn’t dislike politics so much. But Richard Rohr, my spiritual guru, says that everyone is addicted to something. So I’m trying to be honest with myself about what that might be.
At times my hobbies have been like addictions. When I first started knitting, I would crank out so much stuff that I made all my Christmas gifts in a month and still had scarves to give away. Same thing with making jewelry. I sold a lot of what I made, but all my profits went towards buying more beads. And I can sing Karaoke for hours. I hosted a small Karaoke party over the summer and we sang for 6 hours straight.
But knitters tend to be fanatical bunch. Jewelry makers can be, too. And for a Filipino, my Karaoke usage is average, at best. Plus these hobbies tend to go in phases. I’m in a knitting phase now. I would describe my interest in these activities as obsessive rather than addictive.
The next addiction candidates would be tennis and sugar. These two things are a consistent presence in my day-to-day life, and I cannot imagine living without either of them indefinitely. Giving them up would require some kind of intensive inpatient treatment program, and even then the probability of relapse would be high.
But playing tennis and consuming desserts has not significantly impaired my functioning, and I’ve been able to cut back. I am only playing 3-4 times a week to prevent injury. And I don’t eat 3-4 desserts a day any more. So I would classify myself as a heavy user but not an addict.
As I was thinking about this post, one of my FB friends messaged me and asked me to write something about codependence. And that’s when it hit me: I am addicted to unhealthy relationships. Ostensibly because I want to help people, but needing to be needed is a form of addiction, too. In the post on solitude I talked about how ashamed I feel for tolerating so much crappiness to avoid being alone.
Based on my experience as a therapist, I know that many people have the same problem. Often clients come in for a relationship addiction. Their friends and family are sick of listening to them. They know they should break it off, but they can’t. They live in secrecy because they’re still in contact with the other person. If someone came up with a detox program for unhealthy relationships, they could probably make a fortune.
I guess in a way I have completed my own self-imposed detox program. And for the first time in 30 years, I did not use another relationship to ease the pain. I rank this accomplishment right up there with defending my dissertation. Maybe even higher. Because after my dissertation I got depressed because there was nothing left for me to accomplish. But as far as relationships are concerned, it’s all up from here.
Interestingly, I started this blog right before the breakup. It wasn’t conscious, but I guess at some level I decided that the energy I was investing in my relationship would be better spent writing. And blogging helped me tremendously during the breakup process. I don’t think I could have made it this far without it.
So until someone comes up with a detox program for unhealthy relationships, I would highly recommend intensive blogging as a treatment strategy.
When I was in grad school, I didn’t have many visitors because it was a long drive and there was not a lot to do in the middle of Ohio. So I saw my family and friends infrequently, and every time I said good-bye I felt this overwhelming sadness–and not just because I wouldn’t see them for a long time. I was also sad because when I was with them, I was completely myself, and I rarely felt free to be myself.
Part of the problem was that the feeling of being different followed me well into my adult years. I wasn’t like the other grad students. I watched reruns of The Flintstones and Gillian’s Island rather than keeping up with what Koresh was doing in Waco. I wasn’t spending 70-80 hours a week on grad school stuff. I didn’t listen to the right music, didn’t hang out at the cool coffee places.
I moved around a lot during that time, too. While I was with my first husband, we moved almost every year because he was never happy where we were–which turned out to be more about him than our location. Still, I didn’t mind the excuse to not get too close to anyone.
When I finally moved back to Virginia and became a part of the tennis community here, I was a little freaked out. There was no way I could avoid being a part of the gossip, what with my failed marriages and all. Plus, I only dated tennis players, so everyone knew who they were. I had no place to hide; giving up tennis was not an option. I had to let people know what I was really like.
Of all the gifts that tennis has given me, my tennis family is the best one of all. These are the only other people who I can be myself around without obsessing afterwards about what I said or did. They have seen me throw up on the court. They’ve been there when I’ve gotten kicked out of restaurants for being too loud. They don’t judge me for always being hungry and constantly having to pee. They don’t expect me to make anything for potluck dinners because they know I can’t cook. (But I do bring the Karaoke and board games.) They even indulge my grandiosity by calling me the Queen.
Often the feedback I get about my blog is about how honest I am. In an I wouldn’t do it, but good for you! kind of way. I’m tired of hiding. I spent the first half of my life trying to be like everyone else. I want to spend the second half being myself.
Last night we had our 2nd Annual Charlie Brown Christmas Party. The party was named after last year’s tree, which looked like this:
This year the tree was more normal looking but my friends were more comedic, as you can see in this picture:
We even had prizes for Christmas attire: Ugliest sweater, Most Festive, and Prettiest Sweater. Guess which person won each prize from the picture below:
I am so thankful to have such good friends.
In my first marriage my husband and I were everything to each other–just like in love songs and romantic movies–but we didn’t have many friends. Perhaps at some level we feared that if we told people what our relationship was really like, they would see how fragile our marriage was.
I believe that lessons are often learned from tragedy, pain, and hardship–particularly lessons you don’t want to learn. What I learned from that relationship is that no single person can be everything you need. And when you lose that person who has tried to be your everything, you are left with nothing.
So I vowed never to allow myself to be that socially isolated again, and I have done a pretty good job of honoring that commitment. In addition to playing and captaining all of those tennis teams, I also organize most of our social events and play the MC at the parties, making sure that our time is evenly spent between eating, singing karaoke, and playing board games.
However, I am still more inclined to play the role of therapist with my friends than friend in need. And I use all the same excuses that my clients use for not asking for help: I am a burden, a broken record, a person whose feelings may be too much for other people to handle. A person who is too needy, too demanding.
I’ve spent today the way I spend most Saturdays–tired and alone. I did text a few friends. And I talked to my brother. And I’m writing this blog post. So I’m trying to reach out. But it will always be more natural for me to help than to be helped.
Perhaps whenever I have doubts about whether my friends want to be there for me, I can look at the deranged elf pictured above and remind myself that only someone who cared deeply about me would pose for a picture that can be posted for all the world to see.
I love Karaoke. And it’s not because I’m some great singer. I just love to sing. And when it’s done in the privacy of your home in front of the people who know you best, it’s not as scary as you might think.
This Friday we are having our second Decade Karaoke Party. Not everyone likes Karaoke. At least that’s what non-Filipinos claim. So I often have to encourage people to sing by having them take baby steps. Baby steps work for anything that you’re trying to summon the courage to do, by the way.
Everyone has an inner rock star: the person who sings in the shower, or into a hairbrush, or without his pants on sliding through the living room in his socks singing Old Time Rock ‘n’ Roll. There’s a reason Tom Cruise’s performance is one of the most famous cinematic scenes of all time. Who hasn’t wanted to give a performance like that?
One of my missions in life is to help people let their inner rock start come out and sing, gosh darn it! Because I know they want to and I like to help people do what they want to do. Even when they don’t know they want to do it. I would have been a great drug dealer or salesperson. In fact, Amazon should be paying me commission for the number of red light therapy panels I’ve sold–even to physicians! Fortunately, I choose to use my powers of influence for good instead of evil.
Here’s how I get people to sing:
I start off the party with a hard song and sing it badly. Not on purpose. I’m really just not that good. Especially if I haven’t warmed up. And if you warm up, this really discourages people from singing karaoke, since you seem all professional about it.
I ask them what kind of song they would sing if they were to sing, or to just name a song they like. Now that you can find Karaoke songs on YouTube, it is very rare that your song is not going to be on there.
I suggest that we play the song, just to see what it sounds like.
I volunteer to sing it for them.
I have 2 microphones, so I coax them into holding the other mic, or at least touch it, just to see how it feels. Because it feels way better than a hairbrush. It’s heavier and more substantial. They don’t even have to have it anywhere near their face if they don’t want to.
I suggest that the whole group sing, because we’re a Filipino family, we usually have six microphones. That’s how hard core we are about Karaoke.
I tell the person to hold the mic far away from their mouth and sing quietly, if they’d like to. No pressure. We’e happy to sing for them.
I ask them what song they want to sing next, because now they’re hooked.
By the next Karaoke party, they’re usually singing solos. In fact, one person secretly bought a Karaoke machine and hid it so his wife wouldn’t know that he had become a closet Karaoke singer. But she eventually found it and they had a good laugh about it. He hosted the next Decade Karaoke Party.
If I could, I would have a Karaoke machine in my office and I would use singing as a therapy technique. Kind of like what Tracy Ullman did as Ally’s therapist on Ally McBeal. She made Ally choose a theme song. Personally, I think it’s more important to sing in front of someone. There has to be some risk involved. Some skin in the game. It’s freeing to know that you can enjoy doing something without worrying about being good at it or looking foolish. You can just be in the moment and enjoy the act of singing. And dancing, if you’re really into it. You don’t even have to wear pants if you don’t want to.
That’s the reason that one of the workshops in the Normal in Training: Rest and Play Conference will be karaoke. I will have people there who can ask the person to pick the song, people who are willing to sing it for them, and I’ll have an extra mic in case the person wants to hold it and maybe sing a little bit too, albeit quietly. And then we’re going to praise the heck out of them for being so brave and how great it was to hear them sing. And then I’ll send them a link to an inexpensive Karaoke machine if they’re thinking about buying one. You can get them for as low as $25 by the way. I got my niece a mini one for Christmas for her dorm room.
Once you let go of those fears, anything is possible. In singing and in life.
