Tuesday, September 21, 2010

advice from a retired psychotherapist

retirement (for me) means a return to simplicity


At least that was what I had always imagined.  I had also imagined that they would have to carry me out of the office on a gurney.  I loved my career, even after twenty years I had not grown bored with it and there is a great deal of sadness as I am forced to leave it due to health reasons.

I still consider myself a knowledgeableperson when it comes to matters of therapy, psychology, child development, couples and so on.  All I have done is let go of my license and malpractice insurance, as well as my rather cozy office.  This means that I cannot engage in therapeutic work with clients for monetary compensation.  (No, therapists have never been permitted to barter!!)

I love writing about some of the weird stuff that crosses my little ADD brain and I love writing about people and life and art.  In checking stats, something I have never done  before, I found out that the highest stats were  a time when I posted something with ADD in the title.  This makes me think that people have so many questions about therapy that they would like to ask, but often do not know where to go. 

In the last twenty years of practice, many of my patients were first timers and really had no idea about who did what, depending on the letters behind their name and or what they should ask.  How does therapy work anyway?  How does it work with kids?  When do I put my seemingly strange or unhappy child into a therapeutic relationship with someone?  How do I know that they know what they are doing?

I do not feel ethically correct in giving specific clinical advice, or diagnostic advice on the internet.  It is difficult enough to do it well with the person in front of you, but I am more than happy to answer questions and give a try at suggesting solutions for behavioral problems. 

I will see what happens.  If things on this blog stay the same, then I will leave it as is and you will get to see pictures of the things I make as I now, finally, after waiting most of my life, get to engage full time in my "shadow career".  The artist gets to come out into the light.  This week I have been working on some interesting hat beginnings.  I will take pictures and show them when they are closer to being finished.

If it seems that splitting the blog into two is better then I may do that.  I need to hear back from some folks, otherwise my lazy self will make the decision.    peace love health and an absence of soliciters at your door this week.  sopha davenport

Monday, September 20, 2010

Being able to do what you do not really want to do... is...

Power and independence, baby, power and independence!!!
Here , finally comes the simple conclusion to the convoluted verbal mess I made of trying to explain about plunging the toilet. 
We live in a temperamental house.  It chooses to have things work or not according to its whims du jour.  All the things in this house that are in any manner machine like (ie.having more than one piece) or technological (requiring some kind of electrical power), have taken on the attitude of this house. 

I have grown used to the size of my garage door mysteriously shrinking when I try to back my car out, particularly on a day when I am already a bit stressed.   I have also grown used to "teaser" power outages that only last long enough to require resetting the time on everything that blinks otherwise.  Sometimes I wait, but the house is clever and just when I have given up and taken care of all the blinking things, it will of course do it again.  There are days when I do not adppreciate these cute games.

One of the other games is to plug the toilet for no obvious reason.  Like any home, there are times when there is a reason, which, being the delicate creatures that we are, we will not discuss.  For a very long time, I had difficulty plunging the toilet and would, after several useless attempts, have to call my husband in to try to fix it.  Of course, it only took him two seconds.  He never minded either.  Independent woman that I have attempted to be during most of my life this was bugging the _______(you make the obvious joke here) out of me.

My dear beefcake did attempt to assist.  First he got me my very own plunger.  This was a teeny weeny baby plunger and I was initially offended until her explained that it would work better with the female upper body strength... ok, fell for it and tried.  Did that work?    of course not.

My husband is a gooooood man, so he found me a very weird looking purple, sort of pleated, massive plunging instrument. Now, this one had several things going for it.  First, it was purple, my favorite of colors and it was just so weird looking that I figured it had to work.  It is easy to impress the daughter of an engineer with weird looking stuff.  Did it work?

YES IT DID!!!! It did for rather a long time and I felt strong and independent, running out of the bathroom with my purple monster plunger proclaiming my success.  It isn't that I like messing around with toilets, but I would rather live with them and I want to live with them functioning well and be able to fix ist should they fail to. 

Two weeks ago, when I began this little rant, my purple monster failed me and I had to ask for help and watch as my darling took the tiny baby plunger and in his usual two seconds cleared things right up.   Do I divorce him?  Perhaps I could practice secretly, but with what?  

Maybe I should return to finding my independence in work of some kind.  Retirement makes one weird.  Therefore, I am working on a few hats again.   I will show them to you as I finish them. 
Peace, love and co-operative plumbing to all, sopha chesterfield davenport

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

The rationale re: toilets and anything else..

You may recall that a while back I was attempting to get at the subject of plungers and the sense of personal independence.  I will admit in truth, that with so many things that my little wandering brain picks up at the side of the road, the beginning of my thinking did not indicate that to you at all. 

beginning or end

Here is where this whole little ball of wax (ooh, gross!) began. I am now a skosh over 60 and depending on what my apparently low end body is doing, can feel like I am 16 or 160.  (Nooooo, I do not have any desire what so ever to discuss any one of my stupid chronic ailments.  There, aren't you relieved...)

So, back to the story: Early one afternoon, preparing to leave preparing to leave for the closest thing as a hot date I have these days : a visit with my dentist, who is mostly interested in my molars, I spent some time dipping into my bowls and  baskets of mystery preparations. 

(note to my husband: just in case you might by chance read this...baby oh baby, you are my hottest of hot dates, still after thirty years, but I have a story to tell. )


As PT BArnum has been given credit for quoting, mistakenly, I think, "there's a sucker born every minute."  This I suppose is a partial explanation of why I would spend so much as one cent on creams and elixiers promising to make me look forty years younger and come out looking like Julia Roberts.  I have never in my life looked like anything even remotely resembling Julia Roberts.

Still I recall a time in my life (extending into this, when I am sane), when I can slap on a little blusher on my somewhat pale face, call it "instant health" and head out the door.  Now my  primary concern was to floss well enough so that my charming and utterly non-judgemental dentist would encounter nothing larger than a chicken or dead longer than Jimmy Hoffa in the spaces between my teeth.

   ....time to stop now.  I promise to continue this tale of woe tomorrow.  At the moment my husband reminds me that it is tragically past my bedtime with lovely and plaintive "yoo-hoo's" from down the hall.  Who  could resist?  

love, peace and health to you. sopha chesterfield davenport

Friday, September 3, 2010

toilets and world peace


I certainly hope you did not think I would actually show you a toilet!!

You are getting larger type these days because, 1) I am getting old enough to have difficulty seeing some of the itty bitty print that is to be found in some of the blogs and other things that I receive via e-mail, and, 2) Charlie, the chewing hound from hell, ate my computer glasses.  Not actually all of them, but enought to have made them useless.  While this was originally borderline cute, and we were tolerant once we understood that he was much younger than we had first been given to believe, it is now getting to lose it's charm.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

"String of Tears" -- age and hope ?

It has been rather a long time since I have posted, and time and circumstance are to blame, as I refuse to take any responsibility despite the role my daily sloth and idolence have had here.  I'll not bore you with tales of woe, illness, broken computers and all the other things that can get in the way of creating and being true to the creation of even an adequate blog.

It is my sincere hope that things are, while not exactly taking a u-turn at autobahn speed, at least changing course at a speed that would not shame a snail.  I have been attemping to rework the picture part of this blog, given that blogger has now given us more options with which to play, or, break our computers.   You may have fun watching my ineptitude as things change, then, when I find it horribly ugly, or impossible to read, change again.

I did retire from my private practice as a psychotherapist after twenty or so years and have much to say about that.  What I would like to do with this blog ultimately is to split it into three without actually splitting it (yikes  a holey trinity).  I would like to devote one section to talking about mental health, illness and all the states in between.  I can give some counsel, but only within very, very strict parameters. In other words, no advice really. The second part I would like to devote to anything that has to do with finally at my age (60 +1) to devote myself to creative expression.  In other words, to be one of those artsy fartsy types.  All that art school stuff forty years ago should be used before I croak!!

The third is a subject that I have always had difficulty speaking about, but is one that needs to be given a voice during this time in the world.  I have already mentioned my immigrant status.  I am a legal citizen, but that isn't always enough to make for an easy transition.  Stories of my mother, they are.



My mother loved hats, and so do I.  This was one of my favorites until Charlie the madly chewing dog decided to add his own artistic twist to it.  Oh well, I love making hats, so this givesme an excuse, no?
Peace, love and hope to all, sopha davenport     Special prayers of any kind to A and B that they may soon be able to laugh at my side again. s.