When Grief is Messy: 3 Lessons Learned (Plus a Bonus)

Photo by Danie Franco on Unsplash

When Grief is Messy

I work with cancer patients and go through the ups and downs of diagnosis and treatment with them. Having recently lost my father-in-law and previous to that, lost family members to unexpected causes, I understand that grief can be messy. 

Earlier this year, for reasons prior to my own recent loss, my relationship with grief started to shift. I miss people I’ve lost but I’m starting to accept that grief and loss are a natural part of life. While it matters how the person passed away and whether I had a chance to say goodbye, their physical absence is permanent and nothing I do can change that. I still feel saddened by their loss, but the grief feels calmer, more settled. Through my lived experiences and the witnessing of other people’s grief journey, I’ve come to three lessons learned. 

There’s no one way to grieve

When I listen to jazz, I’m reminded of dad. While washing his clothes, I teared up. We bought a used RV and he had previously questioned whether that was a good idea. I’d speak quietly to him, saying, “Dad, we’re going on an adventure”. I talk to other people about missing him. I want to be with others but I also want to be alone. 

My husband uses dad’s old keychain and will wear one of his Hawaiian shirts to our friend’s wedding tomorrow. He says he feels his feels but he doesn’t bring up dad. He has a quiet resonance to my sharing. There was a time when I wasn’t sure if he was distracting himself or avoiding his grief. I couldn’t tell, but I also need to trust his words for it. 

Grief doesn’t look any one way and it doesn’t need to. How we choose to honor the memory of those we’ve lost is very specific to us as individuals, so let’s not insist that we must cry at funerals or else it means that the person didn’t matter to us. Or, it’s a celebration of life, so no tears allowed; only happy memories. Or, how can you book a trip to Disneyland when it overlaps the deceased’s birthday, favorite holiday, or death anniversary? That’s so heartless!

How we grieve is how we grieve. How others grieve is how they grieve. Let’s not judge. 

When one grief leads to another 

The thing is, grief is messy; it’s not linear. I even intentionally mixed up the stages of grief in a previous post about cancer. Not only is grief all over the place, it also connects our hearts to other losses in ways we least expect it. 

While sad about dad, I was reminded of his sister whom we lost to cancer a few years back. Then I started missing her. As if it’s contagious, my mind shifted to an uncle on my MIL’s side of the family and we lost him almost eight years ago! My heart was whelmed over. WTF, I thought I’ve grieved the loss of these people! And I have, but that doesn’t prevent my heart and mind from making these connections. I was missing them all over again, and for a moment dipped into the pain of those losses.

It’s okay to cry again, to be surprised by your own emotions, and to replay the sound of that person’s voice in your head. Deaths are significant, no matter how long they’ve been. So take a moment and let your emotions run. The word “emotions” contains the word “motions.”

Your emotions need to move. Let them move from the inside out.

Grief happens when it happens and lasts as long as it lasts

As you can imagine, death doesn’t wait for you to be in between jobs, for your kid to be off to college, for there to be at least a five-year gap from when you last experienced a loss. Neither does grief. Grief happens when it happens. I was writing this blog and started to tear up. You can be reading a receipt and be reminded of your son’s hockey jersey number. We would need to stop watching most shows if we don’t want to be triggered by death and dying. It doesn’t take much for grief to surface and when it does, let it be. 

Grief also lasts as long as it lasts. When asked how long is my sister, my wife, my dad going to grieve, grief expert David Kessler answered, “How long is the person going to be dead? If the person is going to be dead, they’ll be grieving for a long time.” The first two years are merely the early stage of grief. Mature grief is when we live out the rest of our lives without that person. 

So, if those five days of bereavement leave didn’t do anything for you, that’s because it’s better than nothing and yet completely insufficient. Your friend got over their partner in a year and remarried and you’re still a puddle on the floor? Their grief is their business and your grief is yours. 

Let your own grief journey take you to your healing.

Bonus: Remember how you remember

If there’s no one way to grieve, there’s no one way to remember. However you choose to remember your loved one is right. And when you want to switch up your ritual, it’ll be right then too. Going fishing is a great way to grieve, as is riding on Space Mountain or eating curry fish. You don’t have to wear sackcloth and ashes to be considered legitimately grieving, though no offense if that is you. Only you would know if you’re grieving, so do you.

An invitation to grieve

My hope for you is that you may stay present with your grief and take some time with it. If you need help through the grieving process, you know where to find us. 

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Ada Pang is the proud owner of People Bloom Counseling, a Redmond psychotherapy practice. She helps unhappy couples find safety and connection in their relationship. She also helps cancer thrivers and their caregivers integrate cancer into their life stories. She remembers her friend Molly when she sees creepy art and eats Heirloom oranges. She celebrates her aunt when she eats dim sum. May you find your ways too.

Three Tips on How to be a Good Friend During a Medical Emergency

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

Having been through a family medical emergency recently, how to best support the immediate family is top of mind. Friends and the larger community come with the best intentions, but sometimes, things get missed. Here are a few tips on how to be a good friend during these critical times. 

1. Drop off food in disposable tupperware - During a medical emergency, the last thing the family needs to worry about are dishes. If you want to drop off food, and there’s no obligation to, use unquestionably disposable tupperwares that do not need to be returned. If the family doesn’t answer the door, leave food on the porch and text. If they do answer the door, keep the conversation short. They might not have the emotional capacity to engage right now. 

2. Expect no responses - Everyone is different and we all respond to situations in our own way. When you reach out to your friend to show care and support, expect no responses. If they engage, great! If they don’t, let them be. They’re not trying to be offensive; they’re simply preserving their emotional and physical energy to cope with their loss. 

3. Respect your friend’s wishes - If you hear through the grapevine that your friend doesn’t want to be contacted for the time being, you’re no exception. Just because you’ve known them for a long time or you’ve been through similar situations doesn’t make you the person they want to talk to right now. Chances are, if and when they want to talk, you might very well be on speed dial. Until then, respect their wishes for limited contact. 

Similarly, if they requested vegetarian dishes and you make a great meat lasagna that they used to love, listen to what they’re wanting right now. A meal for two with no leftovers is not a code word for something else. 

It is hard to not be able to give the help and support you want to give when your friend is suffering. This is the time for your friend; not for you. When the tables are turned, I hope they’d show up for you too, in ways you find most supportive to you. 

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Ada Pang is the proud owner of People Bloom Counseling, a Redmond psychotherapy practice. She helps unhappy couples find safety and connection in their relationship. She also helps cancer thrivers and their caregivers integrate cancer into their life stories. She’s grateful for the power of friendships and how they can ease emotional burden during human suffering. Thanks for being that friend. 

How to be an Emotional Support Human during a Medical Emergency

I’m writing this from out of town following a family medical emergency. The days are long and the waiting is hard. Little comments bring tears to our eyes, after which we move onto what needs to be done by whom when. Someone once said, “There is as much life in a moment of pain as there is in a moment of joy”.* We’re trying to take in all the moments.

As a trained therapist, my family is obviously not my clients. However, when one of us is upset, I naturally step in to give permission to feel our feelings, to provide empathy and validation, to give a hug and to remind everyone what the medical team has said. I think about pets and how they can be emotionally supportive and soothing during upsetting times. What can we learn from animals on how to be emotionally supportive during a medical emergency? 

Three tips to be an emotionally supportive human

When you don’t know what to say, say nothing

Animals don’t talk; they stay close and make themselves available. They sense that you’re in distress and they come near. People have the best intentions and they want to be supportive, but when they don’t know what to say, they can say the weirdest sh*t. “Oh, they’ve lived a long life,” or “At least you get to marry somebody else,” or “A similar thing happened to my sister…” and then they go on to tell their story.

Just. Stop. Talking. 

And never begin sentences with, “At least…” These words convey the opposite of empathy. For example, “At least they’re in a better place” is to say it’s a good thing that the person is no longer with us. When someone is grieving a loss and missing the person, that might not be comforting. 

Similarly, when you begin sentences with the words, “I’m glad…”, for the grieving, there might be nothing glad about the situation, not in that moment of pain. So, before you say something, ask yourself if it’s to make you feel better or do you really have the other person in mind? If it’s for you, keep it to yourself.

Keep your judgement to yourself

Animals don’t judge; their presence is unconditional. You can have bad breath, the worst hair day, be in a bad mood, feel horrible about yourself… It doesn't matter. When you want to climb into a hole, your emotional support animal climbs in there with you. 

People have judgments about what should’ve happened to prevent this or that or how something should be handled now that we’re where we are. People have opinions and some people have more than one, which inadvertently places judgment on an already very sad and heavy situation. 

Before you share your opinion, ask yourself, “Am I just saying this to be heard or is this solely to benefit the other person?” If it’s the latter, ask for permission to share. “I have a thought about this. Would you want to hear it?” It’s an overwhelming time for families going through a medical emergency. Even if you’re trying to be helpful with your comments, now might not be the time. Be respectful of how much information can be absorbed. Even good and helpful things can be left unsaid. 

Take care of basic needs

Under stress, there’s a tendency to throw basic self-care out the window. I’m talking about drinking water, going to the bathroom, keeping good posture, regulating your body temperature, etc. As an emotional support human, remind people to do these basic things. “It’s time to take a break from visiting and go for a walk” or “Let’s eat something now”. Be respectful and gentle with these prompts and never demanding. If it can be helpful, let them know the person they’re visiting would want that for them too. 

Taking care of basic needs would include your needs too. Imagine an emotional support animal that is sleep deprived, hungry, dirty and holding in their pee. They can get agitated, be smelly or accidentally wet the couch. Take breaks, keep up with your personal hygiene and get some air. You can only be emotionally supportive if you stay healthy and well. 

Take good care. 

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Ada Pang is the proud owner of People Bloom Counseling, a Redmond psychotherapy practice. She helps unhappy couples find safety and connection in their relationship. She also helps cancer thrivers and their caregivers integrate cancer into their life stories. After this blog, she’ll do some light stretching on Peloton and go for a long walk. Just taking it a moment at a time. 

What’s in a pronoun? How I came to understand and appreciate they/them

Photo by Carlos de Toro @carlosdetoro on Unsplash

If you’ve been on a Zoom call lately, you’ve probably noticed that pronouns are listed under many of your colleague’s names, and that you can edit your pronoun with a single click. What a concept! Technology has enabled us to express this important aspect of ourselves to anyone we e-meet so they can know our pronouns at first glance. Wherever you lie on the gender spectrum, you can’t miss the changing landscape of gender diversity awareness.

I identify as queer, and my pronouns are she/her. While I don’t use gender-neutral pronouns myself, I appreciate organizations and workplaces that place importance on respecting people’s pronouns in conversation. I want to share my journey of love/hate relationship with the they/them pronouns, and how I eventually came around to the love side (the TL/DR version is, just respect people’s pronouns, dammit!)

When pronouns first entered the collective conversation, the English language purist in me struggled with the grammatical inconsistency of the they/them pronouns. I insisted that grammatically, it does not follow to refer to a singular person as if they are a collective “them” in a sentence. Perhaps partly in response to this very concern, the LGBTQ community came up with other pronoun options, called neopronouns, such as “Ze/hir,” or “xe/xyr”used to indicate non-binary gender. 

For a comprehensive list of gender neutral pronouns and short but sweet history lesson of the evolution of the inclusive “one” instead of “he/she,” pronouns, see this great resource from the University of Wisconsin.

Personally, I’m in the camp that would prefer to add new words to the English language than to butcher grammatical rules.  When I learned about options other than “they and “them” for gender neutral pronouns, I was 100% on board! I wanted to shout from the rooftops that everyone with gender non-comforming preferences could choose a neopronoun, and we could finally be rid of this pesky misused “they.” But change isn’t quick to come, and people haven’t picked up these other pronoun options like I hoped. Neopronouns are used by some, but they’re not very common. They/Them have won out as the most commonly used gender neutral pronouns. A recent survey showed that 25% of LGBTQ youth in the US use gender neutral pronouns. Just 4% use neopronouns. The English nut in me refused to accept it for a long time - I clung on to a wish for the way it could be, if only everyone just adapted and chose anything but “they/them!” Be a ze! Be a xyr! A Mx or a per! Ok this is turning into a Dr. Seuss rhyme.

Grammar be damned

Our constantly evolving world has made me take a hard look at myself. In the last few years I’ve been consciously working on inclusivity and questioning my resistance to the they/them pronoun. The first thing I questioned was the obsession with keeping the English language “pure:” who says things have to be the way they always were? Language evolves - English is the way it is because of cultural shifts and geographic migrations over centuries. Even “perfect” grammar as it was taught to me would probably be appalling to someone from the 1700s. This Here is a great resource explaining all the scenarios where “they/them” would be appropriate to use. While change can be hard to accept, ultimately changes to language are natural, and show that we are progressing as humans. Modifications to language are reflections of changing attitudes, and in the case of expanding LGBTQ rights, this is a welcome cultural change. 

Respecting my fellow humans

I also started being more mindful of people’s wishes - recognizing their human right to have non-conforming gender expression, gender identity, and pronouns. All this meant making a deliberate effort to think in terms of pronouns. I thought about the people I know with gender neutral pronouns, and I made a conscious effort to use them, both in my thoughts and in conversation. If you’re not used to using non-binary pronouns, try it out:

“Xander wasn’t in English class today, have you seen them?”

“Oh, they had a dentist appointment. They should be back by third period. You don’t have to worry about them, they’re fine!”

Practice practice practice 

If you know someone’s pronoun preferences, think of them in the terms they request, and practice using their pronouns when referencing them. And remember they have the right to change their pronouns over time, as they learn about themselves. Practicing using people’s pronouns will hopefully make you feel confident that you’ll get it right when speaking to your friends with neutral pronouns directly.

Simplicity

So, xe/xyr didn’t take off. That’s ok, maybe someday… (but for those who do use neopronouns, more power to you!) For those that use they/them,  I’ll concede that this has its pros. Using they/them simplifies the pronoun question for anyone who is new to the concept, or may find the other pronouns options confusing. They/them is a palatable approach that may bring pronoun preference awareness to the mainstream consciousness. We already use the words “they” and “them,” so these words can easily be added to the lexicon in another context, without having to learn new words. For many, there would be less resistance to this pronoun than to brand new words. 

Giving it meaning

I learned to appreciate they/them on a philosophical level as well: When we pluralize a pronoun that’s referring to a single person, I see it as a way of including all aspects that make a person who they are, including any and all gender expressions with which they identify. Using the term them includes the many ways our identities intersect to make us our unique selves.

Thanks for letting me take you on my journey of acceptance of something I shouldn’t have been so resistant to in the first place.  I know I have completely fixated on they/them pronouns here, but it’s mostly out of necessity because they’re the most prevalent gender neutral pronouns we see these days. All that to say, I don’t mean to dismiss other pronouns. All pronouns are welcome! I hope that with time, people feel more comfortable stating their preference for the pronouns that make them feel like their authentic selves.

If you’re not sure what someone’s pronouns are, just ask! And it’s also ok to screw it up at first  - most people in the LGBTQ community appreciate the effort to get it right. And if you do mess up, the best approach is to correct yourself and move on, without apologizing.

I wanted to end on this blog with a delightful Schoolhouse Rock throwback about pronouns - who would have thought back in the day when we were watching our grammar lesson cartoons that these conversations would be front and center in our collective consciousness 30 years later? Enjoy!

If you need support in understanding your own or a loved one’s gender identity, a trained therapist can help. Reach out to one of our therapists today.

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Karen Lenz is the Office Whiz and Insurance Guru at People Bloom Counseling. She writes blog posts as a human navigating this world, a client sitting across from a therapist, much like you. She enjoys cooking, hiking, playing with her dogs, and dabbling in yoga.

A Non-Holiday Blog on Self-Compassion

It’s the holidays again and I, for one, do not know how 2021 passed us by. Rather than inundating you with another blog on how to survive an endemic holiday, here’s a poem by James Crews to remind you of self-compassion to take with you into the holiday season and beyond:

Self-Compassion

My friend and I snickered the first time

we heard the meditation teacher, a grown man,

call himself honey, with a hand placed

over his heart to illustrate how we too 

might become more gentle with ourselves

and our runaway minds. It’s been years

since we sat with legs twisted on cushions,

holding back our laughter, but today

I found myself crouched on the floor again,

not meditating exactly, just agreeing

to be still, saying honey to myself each time

I thought about my husband splayed

on the couch with aching joints and fever

from a tick bite—what if he never gets better?—

or considered the threat of more wildfires,

the possible collapse of the Gulf Stream,

then remembered that in a few more minutes, 

I’d have to climb down to the cellar and empty

the bucket I placed beneath a leaky pipe

that can’t be fixed until next week. How long

do any of us really have before the body

begins to break down and empty its mysteries

into the air? Oh honey, I said—for once

without a trace of irony or blush of shame—

the touch of my own hand on my chest

like that of a stranger, oddly comforting

in spite of the facts.

- James Crews 

However you wrap up 2021, may your heart be filled with Oh honey, and your hand, self-directed, bring stillness and comfort. 

We look forward to being with you in 2022. 

With care,
The team at People Bloom

People of Color May Have their Defenses Up, and with Good Reason

Photo by Alan Billyeald on Unsplash

Our recent adventure

Husband and I went on an RV trip to Central California in late-September. School has resumed; it’s time to travel in the off-season and enjoy the changing fall colors. We went as far as the south bay to visit my in-laws and then to the Stanislaus National Forest where my husband used to camp every year growing up. We had many memorable moments, but what stuck out was an experience that helped deepen my understanding of what BIPOC and other marginalized groups might feel on a regular basis. 

We pulled into a busy campground close to San Francisco on a busy weekend. The site was packed and fully booked, hustling and bustling with people. Kids were playing, riding on scooters, swimming, and visiting the petting farm. It was happenin’! At check-in, we were told our campsite with full hook up does not have a sewage hookup. However, these “VIP spots” involve a dark and grey water tank truck that comes by 8 am in the morning to empty it for us. Thus, we were told to leave our box unlocked. 

All that was fine. By now, the sun had 45 minutes to set. I was ready to get our rig set up so I can go for a quick jog, so time is of the essence. We rolled into our spot and there was not one, but two cars parked there. One of its owners quickly moved out while the other owner was nowhere to be found. While I know in my head that everything takes longer during COVID, it is no less frustrating to wait for someone to move their vehicle so our evening could continue. 

Things don’t always go as planned

Husband and I did the best we could, coming head-to-head to the vehicle and starting to level with blocks as best we could. By now, I’d given up hope that I could go for my jog. After 15 minutes of waiting,  the property manager finally drove up in his golf cart carrying the driver of the remaining vehicle. Looking sheepish and with a faint smile on his face, he hopped into his vehicle without a word and drove off. 

I was upset. What the fuck was that? We had to re-park and re-level, taking up more of our time. If one of us were a white male, would the dude have apologized before driving off? Being Asian-American looking, even though our identities are much more complicated than that, it’s one of those things we’d never know. It’s also hard to not notice how many of the RVers are White, as RVing amongst POC, while growing during the pandemic, is still lagging. Here’s an article about the outdoors being a predominantly White pastime. 

Sigh. After chatting with my husband and naming what this brought up for me, I could either stay upset or move on with my evening. I did my workout in the RV instead, careful to lay off on the jumping, and carried on. 

The gut punch came the next day, or at least what I thought was the last straw that broke the camel’s back.

The tipping point

We left our tank hookup area unlocked, as suggested by the office. When we went to detach the water source the next morning, we found a pinch-off lock tool in the place of one of the shutoff valve handles for the fresh water drain. Did the rig rental come like that? Why didn’t we notice it, having done hookups multiple times during the beginning of the trip? By now, it is hard for my mind to not go to this place of us having been pranked. Hatred against Asian Americans has been on the rise since COVID and as much as we tried to continue to live our lives as best we could, I felt less safe in that moment.

When microaggressions add up

I’m usually a friendly person, but now, I have the resting bitch face on. Looking unfriendly feels protective and gives the message, “Don’t mess with me”. 

My husband, being a fourth-generation Japanese American, is a bit more removed from his Japanese racial and cultural identity. He took the more neutral position and kept questioning whether this was how we picked up the rental. Following his lead, I jumped on the conclusion bandwagon and emailed the manager of the RV rental company with photos. Within hours, he got back to us, saying that’s how the rig came and they’re waiting for a replacement part to arrive.

Now, you could say I misunderstood or wrongly thought we had a target on our backs. That was partly the case, but think about the experiences we had that led up to the last event: two cars parked in our spot, no apologies from the driver who kept us waiting, the sight of mostly White neighbors when we’re used to seeing other POC in our Seattle communities… Everyone can misunderstand at times; that’s part of being human. But when people from historically and all the more currently marginalized communities go through life, thoughts about whether they were treated one way or another because of their race, culture, sexual orientation, language, appearance, etc., can become top of mind. 

The right to not be friendly

With time, my resting bitch face slowly melted away because I felt mostly safe in the dominant culture, tapping into adaptive strategies to keep going. I went on with the rest of my trip, waving and saying hi to strangers, like my usual self. But through all this, I was reminded that people don’t have to be friendly back. People from marginalized groups can have additional reasons for how they show up in the world. Being friendly and smiley to strangers may be welcomed in some cultures but not others. People might just want to go on their walk and be left alone, and that’s ok. Just because I want to tell people I see them does not mean they need to reciprocate. Whatever they might be going through, ignoring me is a valid response.

All that to say, our inner experiences affect how we show up in the world. It’s not good or bad, right or wrong. It just is. If you need help navigating your intersecting identities, our counselors are here for you. We are a diverse group of people and personalities, with different lived experiences. I hope we can help!

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Ada Pang is the proud owner of People Bloom Counseling, a Redmond psychotherapy practice. She helps unhappy couples find safety and connection in their relationship. She also helps cancer thrivers and their caregivers integrate cancer into their life stories. She identifies as a Hong Kong immigrant, Canadian, US permanent resident, cis-gender woman. That is so much more than being Asian American. For that reason, she celebrates the identities that make you uniquely you. 

Letting Go When a Friendship Ends

Photo by Clarisse Meyer on Unsplash

There’s so much advice and guidance out there on how to heal from break ups. If you just broke up with your honey, Cosmo gives you full permission to have a good cry, bust out bonbons, put on a Rom Com and stay in bed all week. But there’s very little in the self-help world about what to do when platonic friends go separate ways.

We’ve all been there - and it feels weird and confusing.

Why we hang on

Sometimes we hang on to friendships because we don’t know any better. We do it because the friendship is comfortable and it’s scary to walk away.Other times we hang on to friends because of fear that we’ll hurt their feelings if we leave their side. Still other times, we cling because it’s what we know, and it's hard to imagine our life without the person we were once close to.

Why we break up 

Even if you had amazing times with a friend in the past, it doesn’t mean that connection was meant to last forever. As we get older, we often change so much that we’re no longer compatible with old friends. Or maybe you’ve stayed the same, but your friend’s interests and values have shifted, or vice versa.  Sometimes our life circumstances change. There are countless reasons for going separate ways, and all are valid.

Not all friendships are meant to persist. With age we learn to distinguish between friendships that we should fight to keep, and those we should release. If you tune into what fills your cup, you know deep down what’s best for you.

Whether you have a conversation about breaking up or the friendship dissipates on its own, it can be uncomfortable. Telling someone you can’t be their friend feels harsh, even if your words are true. Ghosting feels flakey and lacks heart.

However you go about ending a friendship, it’s ok to free yourself of the guilt you feel. Keeping a friendship that no longer works for you can feel disingenuous. It is likely taking up spoons that you can use elsewhere. When you let go of a friendship, you’re setting boundaries and doing what’s best for you.

When a friend lets us go

Sometimes we’re the ones hanging on to the past. In this case, you and your bygone friend aren’t on the same page - you want to fight for a friendship, but you see signs that your friend doesn’t reciprocate this feeling. If you were once close, this can feel as painful as a romantic break-up, and no one ever prepared us for this scenario.  

The comfort I want to offer is this: know that parting ways with friends we once loved is common and normal. Friendship goes through seasons and sometimes, these relationships wither and don’t make it to that next season. Mourn the friendship by remembering the good things, and then honor your friend’s choice to let you go. 

And it’s also ok if it takes time to accept. When you have to say goodbye to friendships that mattered at one point, it makes sense that it would hurt. There’s no manual for how to do it right, or how to heal So, take your time getting over this breakup like you would a relationship breakup. Significant friendships were once intimate after all.

Finding your own closure

Because the end of a friendship is usually muddled in a grey area and doesn’t always get the closure that some romantic partnerships do, you may have to say your goodbyes on your own.  You can do this in a journal, in your thoughts and prayers, or in conversations with people you trust. Honor these past friends by acknowledging the good things they brought to your life in the season you had together. There was a time when it served you both well. It wasn’t all for nothing but it’s also time to move on.

Friendship breakups can be disorienting - but they are part of being social creatures, and I’m certain they’re the topic of many therapy sessions. If you need extra support, our therapists can guide you through this change in season, and help you see that your life can be whole, even as friends come and go

Let us know if we can help!

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Karen Lenz is the Office Whiz and Insurance Guru at People Bloom Counseling. She writes blog posts as a human navigating this world, a client sitting across from a therapist, much like you. She has noticed that old friends from past lives coming out of the woodwork during the pandemic and decided to share some reflections on those that have gone their own way.

How to Talk to your Partner to Get at the Heart of the Matter

Photo by David Dvořáček on Unsplash

Change my partner!

Sometimes, couples come into our offices and they want to see behavioral changes: “He needs to not log back into work after the kids are in bed…” or “They need to go out with their friends less often!” or “I can’t stand her telling me what to do throughout the day!”

“They need to STOP!!!”

During these incidents, emotions run high and they get stuck on what the partner needs to do differently for the relationship to improve. As a couples therapist, I’m often attuned to what’s really going on underneath. What message does it send you when your partner does this or that? And even then, it’s much safer and less vulnerable to focus on behavioral changes. I slipped into a moment like that myself a few weeks back. 

Here’s what happened. 

Lost track of time

Husband plays online board games on Monday and Wednesday. It’s his time with his friends and I totally support him. One of these nights happened to fall on the second Seattle heat wave and we usually would move the portable AC unit from his office to our bedroom to help cool down the space for sleep. Husband is usually done by 10:30pm-ish, but on this night, he totally lost track of time. 

His gaming session was lively and I waited and waited and waited. Surely he’ll be done by 11pm. Right when I’d think about interrupting him, I’d tell myself he can’t be that much longer. At my wit’s end, I finally peeked in and said, “I need the AC.” 

Husband sprang up from his chair and said, “Oh shit!” apologizing profusely when he reached the bedroom. I was fuming and couldn’t muster up any helpful words. Husband then returned to finish the game, as he couldn’t possibly leave his team high and dry. It was at that time I remembered how it takes time for the AC to cool down an inside temperature of 96F.

Needless to say, I couldn’t fall asleep. 

What’s really going on

My husband came to bed eventually and I said the easier thing, “We need to set up a time limit for board game night so that you are done by 11pm.” Definitely casting blame, I was asking for a behavioral change to prevent future occurrences. Husband then got hung up on problem solving with me: “Are you saying I need to be done by 11pm or I need to have the AC in here by 11pm?”

By now, it’s late and pointless to get into a board game curfew. So instead of insisting on the behavioral change, I went to the heart of the matter: “I felt forgotten when you had the AC blasting in your office while the bedroom was steaming hot and I have to get up early for work tomorrow.” Husband apologized, said he got carried away with the game and asked that I interrupt him earlier next time. 

What’s different about this interaction is that I told him how I truly felt and he heard me, without dismissing or minimizing my experience. To tell him I felt forgotten was significantly harder than focusing on what he needs to change. It required me to be in touch with that hurt and to own my vulnerability. And, seeing his impact on me in this way, that tugged at his heart string in a deeper way.

On the outside perhaps the result looks the same, regardless of approach: We’d both work to prevent this from happening in the future. I can come in to interrupt him sooner and he can try to remember that if the AC is still blasting in his office at 10:30pm at night, the unit is likely needed elsewhere. If you look a little closer, however, there’s a difference: I could either try to micromanage him, which leads to emotional disconnection. Or, when his behavior has an impact on me, I could share what it brings up for me and how it affects me.

Because I did the latter in this case, he was receptive, and it brought us closer together. 

Future late nights

Last week, my husband came to bed late again, but this time it was work-related. I went into his office to say goodnight and asked him to give me a kiss when he comes to bed. The next morning, I asked if that happened and he said yes. He said I moved briefly but was otherwise asleep. It felt sweet to know that he remembered. That’s all that mattered. 

Go beyond behavioral changes

When you come into our office, we want to help you get to the heart of the matter. When you bring up what you want to see change in your partner, our couples therapists are here to help you go deeper. We don’t just want to help you change your behaviors; we want to help you feel closer and more connected to your partner.

Don’t settle for less.

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Ada Pang is the proud owner of People Bloom Counseling, a Redmond psychotherapy practice. She helps unhappy couples find safety and connection in their relationship. She also helps cancer thrivers and their caregivers integrate cancer into their life stories. As with many of these posts, her husband gave permission to share their moments of humanity. She wouldn’t be able to do this work without his support and his kisses.

How to Face your Fears. It’s Not what you Think.

Society’s image of brave 

Popular blogs write about “overcoming or conquering your fears” as if you’ll be confidently standing on the opposite side of fear. Movies stream what used to be struggling characters rising to the occasion in triumph and casting their fears aside. But, what if in your everyday life, as you face the stress of leaving the house, of meeting up with a date, of asking for that promotion, you don’t feel or look that courageous? Does that mean you’re doing it wrong? 

As you take steps outside of your comfort zone, what if you’re sweating in your pits, trembling in your legs and ready to make a run for the bathroom, does that make you a coward? Or is that you being brave, even though you don’t look so put together?

I’ll come back to this in a moment.

Here’s my spider story 

I don’t like spiders. Never have. They look freaky with all those legs. I scream every time I see one. I sometimes ask my husband to pick them up and put them in his garbage can. Other times, I just need to face them alone. I love LOTR but I dread the spider scene. Peter Jackson, I guess that’s one way to face your fear of spiders.

Anyhow, after all these years of needing to face spiders, I still haven’t overcome my fear of them, per society’s definition. I still scream bloody murder at the first sight of them, my heart races and if my husband is near, he’s it! But, if I need to face the creepy creature alone, I wet a square of paper towel (sorry trees!), fold it in half and I go into battle! Not as a triumphant warrior signaling a confident posture, mighty paper towel in hand. Rather, as a whimpering child, screaming the whole time as I charge towards the eight-legged speck. 

Am I less afraid over time? No. Do I kill spiders, even though it causes a scene? Yes. Have I broken anything during these battles or allowed spiders to get in the way of my everyday life? No. Will I now voluntarily hold a tarantula at The Reptile Zoo? Hm, heck no!

The face of courage

What if courage isn’t so brave looking, but is full of screams, whether audible or something we keep to ourselves? What if sweating profusely while doing the hard thing is the face of courage? What if the problem is not in the discomfort of feeling afraid but in the fear that’s keeping us from doing what we want in life? 

What if we don’t have to feel so confident as we face situations that are daunting, but rather, we  forge ahead, even when we want to pee our pants? Confidence may be a side benefit of acting courageously, but it’s not a prerequisite to being brave. What’s more important is that you go after that spider or go on that date or ask for that promotion. Yes, you possibly risk the spider escaping (it has happened before!) or face rejection, but, what’s worse: attempting and not getting the outcome you want or never having attempted at all? 

We’re here to help

If you need help acting brave even though you don’t feel or look so brave, we’re here for you. We’re a group of therapists who don’t always feel or look brave but still get up every morning to do what matters to us, which includes meeting with brave souls like you. 

Just saying you need a bit of help along the way is an act of courage.

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Ada Pang is the proud owner of People Bloom Counseling, a Redmond psychotherapy practice. She helps unhappy couples find safety and connection in their relationship. She also helps cancer thrivers and their caregivers integrate cancer into their life stories. If she ever needs to hold a tarantula, she’ll probably be in tears, drop the poor thing and make a run for the door. She has a lot of appreciation for bug petting zookeepers. 

A Therapist’s Story: Why it can be Harder for People from Marginalized Communities to Show Emotional Vulnerability

Photo by Raychan on Unsplash

As a therapist and fellow human being, I love Brené Brown. She challenges the notion that we need to have our sh*t together, hide our vulnerability or be alone in our shame. She encourages us to take risks, surround ourselves with arena-minded people and embrace our imperfections. What’s not to love about that? 

More recently, I’ve been thinking about how this might show up for people from marginalized communities. What does being vulnerable and taking risks look like for people from underrepresented groups?

A caveat

As a 1.5-generation Chinese Canadian woman living in the US in a stable home environment, I know I have a lot of privilege, but that doesn’t always translate to feeling emotionally safe in my environment. I do not pretend to fully understand or speak to the complex sociocultural identities of different marginalized groups. We are not all the same and we have our unique experiences and identities. As a WOC, I am, however, trying to shed light on the possibility that taking risks and giving perfectionism the middle finger can be harder for people from marginalized communities. 

To more fully understand someone’s current experience, we often need the back story. 

My back story

I was born in Hong Kong, a British-ruled colony that was handed back to China in 1997. For the first eight years of my life, I was with my people. Everyone looked like me and there were no issues with representation. The sense I got was that White people were seen favorably in HK. Some spoke Cantonese and held high government jobs, though I didn’t see it for myself. Impossible western beauty standards of pale skin, large eyes and “the straight nose” prevailed, but I didn’t think much of it as a kid. My parents modeled hard work and that was that. 

As uncertainty about the handover loomed, many  people considered migration. My family immigrated to Vancouver, BC, Canada when I was eight years old. I remembered answering a question from my teacher on the second day of class, “What color was the plane you flew in from?” 

“White and green,” I answered quietly.

I was so nervous to speak out loud in front of everyone. I went from being with people like me to being one of two Asian students. The other kid was a CBC, a Canadian Born Chinese, so even then, it’s not like we were kindred spirits. Kids mocked my English fluency (or their lack of) and the soy-marinated drumsticks my mom packed for my lunch. One time, two popular White girls pulled my chair from behind me so I might land on the ground. I noticed the chair moving and instinctively put my hand between my legs to grab a hold of the seat and heard, with giggles, “Oh, look at where her hand is!”

Kids tease each other all the time and I’ve heard much worse bullying stories. But, there’s an added element of wondering if I was picked on because of my race. Sometimes, it’s an obvious yes. Other times, it’s much more subtle. 

In the first few years, my sister and I changed schools often. Where we lived, there wasn’t a qualified English as a Second Language (ESL) program to help me go beyond my second grade Hong Kong (British) English level. Finally at Kingswood Elementary, we went through ESL classes with Mr. Kibblewhite,  whom nearly every student had a crush on. Given the influx of immigrants coming into Vancouver at the time, we were kicked out of ESL, not because we were proficient, but because of limited resources. 

At various times, I made friends with Elaine, Roy, Frank, David, Xavier and Susan who were CBC, white, Flipino and Black. There weren’t a lot of people who looked like me but I also wasn’t the only one who was different. We laughed; we joked. I had a place and it was with a diverse group of beautiful people. Life was simpler then and those were good times. 

My parents, in the meantime, worked their tails off starting their own telephone and alarm installation company as a condition for Canadian immigration. They had limited connections and had to break ground on foreign land. Mom was an English major, but couldn’t always find the right words to express herself. For dad, speaking English was like doing physical labor. Try going to a foreign country and using their language to get by, not for fun, but for survival. They felt that exhaustion.

A growing majority minority

In the late 80’s and early 90’s, Vancouver’s demographics began to change. Mass migration from HK and Taiwan meant that people who looked like me flooded the city, the province, the country. I moved through middle and high school with Chinese-speaking peers. Chinese businesses, shops, restaurants, malls and grocery stores started to pop up everywhere. Because of accessibility to my own culture, I reconnected to my roots and started listening to pop Chinese music, passing notes in my native tongue and drinking lots of bubble tea. It was a different kind of belonging.

We were slowly becoming the majority minority.

Meanwhile, my parents' business picked up. Serving mostly their own people and a blooming market, there was more work than there were hands to do it. Many decades later, they recall a very kind white-identified regional manager at Panasonic who visited their warehouse often and took them to their first Canadian fine dining experience. They were very sad when he passed away from cancer at a young age.

College days

By the time I went to college at The University of British Columbia (UBC), it was easy to spot Asian people on campus, especially in economics and computer science classes. My Department of Psychology and Family Studies was predominantly White but I joined a CBC college group where it was yet another kind of belonging. My Chinese speaking and writing ability deteriorated and my English proficiency increased again. During a class in Family Life Education, I disagreed with the professor on an assignment and my parents asked me to stand down. “Don’t rock the boat. Write what they want to hear.” I rebelled and stated my point of view. I got a C+ for that assignment, the lowest grade since I declared my major. My parents thought that was a lesson for me and it was: speaking out against authority can be costly but I also don’t regret it one bit. 

Two and a half hours south

I got my green card my senior year in college through my aunt’s family petition 15+ years earlier. Post-college, I came down to Seattle to work for a local Chinese non-profit organization before getting into Seattle Pacific University (SPU) for grad school. Being one of three Asians in the cohort, I was back to hustling. We were a tight-knit group and I made a lifelong friend, but there was something about being in the US, only 2.5 hours away from home, that made me keenly aware I was different from the dominant culture. 

I didn’t have my community with me; I had to make new ones. I have to fit in to get in. I clearly remember a conversation with a White classmate about our skin colors. The word, “Yellow” came up. I held my hand next to her pale white skin and said, “When I think about yellow, I think about this,” pointing to a canary yellow on my pencil case (remember one of those?! I still have said pencil case). “Our skin colors aren’t that different.”

Looking back, I was denouncing a part of my cultural and racial identity in favor of the White dominant culture. If we’re not that different, you’ll accept me, right? If I work hard enough, I’ll make it here, right? These thoughts point to the need to assimilate, but it also conveyed uncertainty. I do not know for sure that my efforts paid off.

Alas, I found people like me: 1.5 generation Asian working professionals who came to the states for college, or, ones who were  born here but came from an immigrant family. There is an ease to our shared experience. To this day, they remain my closest friends. 

Emotional vulnerability as a woman of color

As I consider my early years of studying and working in the US, I’ve been shaped by various cultural expectations of what it means to be a WOC. Don’t rock the boat. Work hard. Try to fit in. Smile and be nice. As the only person of color in a very supportive practicum group, I was afraid to take up space, so much so that when my practicum supervisor said gently that the most valuable resource people can give me is their time, I broke down. Six months into my first job, my supervisor picked up on my tendency to be hard on myself. Here are her words, verbatim: “Ada, I don’t expect you to be perfect!”

Being emotionally vulnerable requires me to be okay with falling short, to sit with people’s grace and/or judgment and my own shame, to be honest with what I might need in the moment and to courageously ask for it. Everything about that goes against the grain of what I’ve been taught to do to “make it,” to be successful as a WOC. But Brené is inviting me to let my guard down, because to be vulnerable is to be courageous. Does she know what she’s really asking of me?

Emotional vulnerability in marginalized communities

I then consider other marginalized communities where it hasn’t always been safe to be driving while Black, to be the first Hispanic in your family to graduate from college, to come out as queer, to be neurotypical but not a child prodigy, to be undocumented, to be fat-bodied, to be living paycheck to paycheck, to keep showing up even when you feel misunderstood or at times, “othered”. When your basic hierarchy of needs are not always met and you get the message that you need to stop exerting so much control over your environment and your outcome, that can be a total heart and mind fu*k. 

I argue that when people from marginalized communities are accepted, welcomed and fully celebrated for who they are, then they have more energy to risk being emotionally vulnerable. To experience this sense of belonging without the need to act a certain way or otherwise risk being racially profiled, favorably or not; that’s emotional and physical security. If Brené is inviting all people to come forward and show their cards, then we need to be aware of the additional layers of complexity and risk this might pose for marginalized groups. They might have more to lose. 

While equity and liberation movements continue to work at removing systemic barriers to access, it is not an even playing field and we shouldn’t treat it as such. It is in the safety and security of a responsive and inclusive environment that we learn to come forth as more fully ourselves. It is in these corrective emotional experiences, new experiences that correct earlier ones, for the better, that courage in vulnerability can show up. 

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Ada Pang is the proud owner of People Bloom Counseling, a Redmond psychotherapy practice. She helps unhappy couples find safety and connection in their relationship. She also helps cancer thrivers and their caregivers integrate cancer into their life stories. While she has written many blogs, this one took the longest to write. She encourages you to listen to the narrative of people different from you.