compassion. conversation. clarity.

Tag: therapy

Accepting (Even Inviting) Influence

Well. 2022, wtf?
As I write this, roughly 3 months after my last post, which was full of hope following the prior two years of hard, RADICAL acceptance, we’re all witnessing (and some of us, more directly experiencing) a whole lotta more, and not necessarily in the enjoyable ways. More Covid variants with more infection possibilities as employers and employees alike wrestle with in-person comingling opportunities, more financial traffic jams (is this inflation or recession??), and what feels like the piece de resistance — terrifyingly up-close images and sounds of senseless, deadly war.

How are we holding up?

I won’t bother to offer simple consolations on the above-mentioned. I do, however, offer space and room for shaking it off, putting all the thoughts (including the hardest) out on the table for display, airing, deconstructing. I may occasionally offer a different POV; sometimes, though, my own brain comes up short. Human, I am.
I am a fan of humility.

The only way that I know of (okay, maybe not the only way, but it’s what’s coming to mind right now) to make Humility a good — no, REALLY good — thing in my existence, is to connect it with the rest of that stuff that keeps me from crumbling: For me, those things are dogged persistence, deep deep deep belief in The Good including Nature, and years of experienced knowledge that if I let life impact or influence me and I ride it like a big wave on a long board, I can not only survive but find joy in the journey.

What and who are you allowing in, on, around – to influence who you are? And who is that, exactly?

One of the ways my influences are shaping me is toward bringing my session fees up to market standards. My practice has been based all these years on making sure I’m at least offering lower fees and including a sliding scale for uninsured people who are living on wages considered lower-middle to lower income. Getting in-network with the insurance ‘train’ in 2021 was another way of making my services available to people who cannot afford full fees for mental health services.

Starting in June 2022, my regular fee per session for new clients will increase to $150 per session hour (still below the market rate for my location.) Now, if you’ve been a client of mine for awhile, you already know that I don’t bump everyone’s fees up when I raise the rates for new clients. You have each experienced a $5 raise starting in the past January, so whatever your fee is now is good to go. But — if you’ve ever considered referring a friend, acquaintance, or family member to me, now (before June) would be a good time, to save them a little money.

One big reason for accepting this influence toward bringing my fees closer to market standard: I’m now available more often to see clients in person at my Lacey, Washington office. My in-office hours are technically 3 days a week, but as things with the pandemic change for the better, my in-person availability will change as I and my clients see fit. In short, keeping an office available for more days each week requires more office rent. It’s all interdependent (or, as we like to say in the LMFT world, “it’s all relational”…)

So — if you refer friends, family, colleagues to me, be sure to advise them to let me know you’ve sent them. Also, if you have any concerns about being able to afford therapy for yourself, please please let me know: I will work with you to see that your mental wellness needs are addressed. And finally, I encourage everyone to intentionally practice bringing to their mind those times in life when comfort and joy were the prevailing emotions — dwell in those moments regularly, to feel the influence of your own life’s wisdom, so that you can keep putting one foot in front of the other and influence others around you thusly.

 

Meditation for Regular People

I’m excited to finally be offering meditation classes. But wait, I hear “What do you mean by ‘regular people’??”

I’ve often recommended meditation to clients. And many have let me know that they think meditation might be just great — for someone else. The thought most often expressed: “I can’t make my mind be quiet.”
I hear this so often, it’s like the only people who manage to quiet their mind are Super Special, maybe monks or nuns or priests…

I get it.
I started my meditation journey more than 20 years ago, and I’m clear that it’s not easy. It’s like exercising a muscle you’ve never used before… not easy at first, and might even feel a little sore, but if you stick with it, little by little… you end up with a stronger muscle and greater ease.

That’s kind of the point of meditation: a stronger mind and greater sense of ease.
So — my saying “regular people” is just a nod to this: You don’t have to be Somehow Special in order to benefit from meditating. You just have to stick with it.

This class will cover a lot of ground in a little time:

Each session is only ½ hour long
(but I ask participants to arrive 10 minutes early, so 40 minutes total.)
You will not be meditating during that whole time!

We’ll cover a ton of stuff: From the historical to the biophysical to the practical.
We’ll quite literally practice meditation for anywhere from 2 to 15 minutes.

My goal is to help you become familiar and comfortable with the tool of meditation, so you can practice it on your own, if you want.

After our first 10 learning-filled sessions, not-quite-weekly and taking place over a period of about 3 months, those who wish to move forward will be invited to come later (or stay late after a review class) and focus solely on practicing meditation.

There’s a caveat: This class is only being offered (for now) to my therapy clients. Part of the reason is because I will not be offering conversation during these classes. Rather, these first 10 classes will be me, teaching. Plus a few minutes of all of us, practicing. With only 30 minutes for class, there won’t be much time for Q&A (and sometimes, none at all) and definitely no time for more in-depth discussion. But I will certainly be happy to make myself available during later scheduled sessions for participants.  

So, if you happen to be reading this and
wondering how to get invited to the meditation classes:
Reach out to me directly. Whether that’s by email (tracy@tracymorris.com) or text or voicemail (325-261-3566). Let’s talk and figure out if this class will be right for you. That’s my highest concern, and I’m honored to discuss it with you.

If you have received an invitation from me for this series of classes: Please respond and let me know if you can attend, as soon as possible.
I’m excited to get this going so you might benefit before the end-of-year holidays!

Our first class will start the week before Thanksgiving  (Thursday, Nov 15) at 9:20am.

The rest of the classes will be on weeks after Thanksgiving:

In Houston office only:

Nov 29

Dec 6

Dec 13

Dec 20

Jan 3

Jan 10

Jan 17

Jan 24

Jan 31

Each session is only $10. As always, you’re welcome to pay by cash, check, or card. You’ll find a basket at the class where you can deposit your payment (or an authorization note, if you’re using a card.)

I’m really looking forward to sharing my meditation journey with you!

we've all been there

Squirming Through Courage

Feels like there are weights in the soles of your shoes at every step down the crowded hallway where you recognize every mark on the tile floor because you’ve done this every day for months (years?), staring down at the next tile in your path because you don’t dare look up and see the faces of all the people who are — apparently — so much happier, more confident, and just plain cool.

When the chance to say “hey” to someone — anyone — arrives, because there’s some part of you that keeps thinking there’s a way you should be doing this better because you’ve seen the videos and read the books and people in those always end up chatting with other people… your voice withers away, disappearing into nowhere, and that someone, anyone, never responds the way you hoped.

Eating dinner alone again, with the one person in the world you’d die for in a heartbeat, you attempt small talk with a smile and a joke because you know it’s the right thing to do, to try and connect at least once a day (a week?) and you worry they’re growing even farther away from you and you want to take the pain of life away from them even though you know can’t — and their snarling response just reminds you of your lowly impotent place in their new world.

And do we even need to comment about the pool party scene? No, we don’t. The crippling pain is just too lavish there.

I jokingly (sort of) refer to myself as “entertainment challenged” because I haven’t owned a TV in years or seen a lot of movies, but the other story is that I’m extremely picky about how I spend my precious entertainment hours. Last week, I selectively chose to spend my time and money on the movie, “Eighth Grade,” in part because I’d heard the writer-director (Bo Burnham) talking about it, and also because my 19-year-old kid ‘knows’ Burnham’s work and is a semi-fan.

If you’re in 8th grade (or lower grades, or probably even 9th or 10th grade), you probably won’t like it. It’s too disgustingly real.

But if you’ve lived the tale to tell it, whether you’re now a parent or just on the other, safer side of the K-12 nightmare, you may find yourself amazed at the unnerving power of such simple, everyday scenes of life in a suburban girl’s last week of middle school. It’s been many decades since I walked middle school hallways and only a few (eternally long) years since my own offspring was busy surviving that scene, but we were both squirming out loud on the protagonist’s behalf. I was also roiling with not-too-distant emotion in relating to the film’s dad and his poignantly courageous, persevering, flailing attempts to initiate even the most mundane conversations with his daughter who skillfully, savagely cut him down to size every.single.time.

Why on earth would this itch-raising exhumation of pitiful pasts be considered entertainment?

Because of the sparkling moments of courage.

They might be hard to spot and easy to miss, those minutes (seconds?) of purely ferocious expression by Kayla, the main character — but they’re there, supported at times by sweet musical backup, and other times by nothing more than the raw sounds of hundreds of adolescents living on the loose.

Just like life.

Like the rest of us, she was tethered to a treadmill over hot coals, requiring occasional explosions of awkward animation to release the building pressure, resulting in respites of celebratory relief so brief they go unnoticed because there’s only more of the same ahead.

we've all been there

Spotting those moments of courage and reveling in them — for her, for my kid, for me — made that time I chose to spend on this movie something I’ll remember for a very long time.

And I’m so grateful I — and we — survived 8th grade.