I tried being a DeadHead but I liked the tye dyes and the pot more than the music. I was too high strung to chill out and sway to the music. I’d love bumming hits of weed off others at concerts and try my hand at dancing, wondering if everyone knew that I was an impostor.
There’s a joke, what does a Deadhead say when you take away his weed?
What is this crap I’m listening to?
Some of those real mellow songs or super long solos felt like something I’d groan about my parents listening to, not something I’d seek out. I was more into it for the culture and the clothes.
Now that my husband is full blown music fan and has loaded my ipod up with hippy music, I’ve begun to appreciate the actual music talent more, of course not when I am running and looking for something with a little more beat.
But I am trying to apply this relaxed attitude to other areas of my life. After losing my mom, so much of everything feels like the small stuff.
One psychopharmacologist I visited to work out some kinks in my medication suggested I try Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT). From what I understood after meeting with two graduate students is it’s a finite type of therapy (no years of commitment like in analysis) to help patients become more “present” to their emotions and thus control them better. With their pre-scripted answers and specific vocabulary like mindfulness, and eagerness to get me to commit, I was suspicious. So I met with another counselor, actually a PhD student younger than myself. The fact that the secretary made a snide remark did not so much offend me but turned me off from the place.
I comment that she’s younger than me because she, like the other PhD student did not represent an authoritative figure. She was no smarter than me, just trained. I had memorized answers and found ways to handle multiple situations when I met with tutoring students or their parents (a career in my past life) and it appeared these therapists were drawing from a similar finite well. I put the woman on the spot and asked her how she would advise me when I lost my temper with my daughter.
“I’d try to help you identify where the emotions are coming from?”
“I’m stressed, I’m late, I’m tired, and I’ve become impatient.”
She went on saying how she’d tap into the source, but listening to her I deduced that a parenting class would be more productive.
I’m accepting this Zen attitude, not blindly following one person, regardless of medical degrees, advice and instead focusing on what’s important. Like my family. And finding that rare bootleg concert CD for my husband.